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sipsteainanxiety · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

i was tagged by @coopigeoncoo @andypantsx3 @willowser and @namodawrites to do this lil self fic rec game and after finally sitting down to think about it for a very... long... time... i have done it! thank you all for the tag i kiss you each on the forehead and give you a bowl of sliced fruit<3

after looking at all the wips i have in docs right now, i can definitely say that this list would be completely different if i had finished a few of them, but for now this is my ranked list for things i've published already lol

devil's glare — demon!bkg x reader

bakugou katsuki is a powerful demon that you have the pleasure of dating. but when he pisses you off one day, you decide to get back at him in a pretty petty way: drawing a salt circle around you to force him to apologize

i had THEE most fun writing this one shot LMAO. it was based on a tiktok of all things that i'd found back when i was still on the app pfft. i just loved the idea of bkg being all surly and aggravated that his little human had purposely drawn a salt circle to prevent him from encroaching on their space. and like... him dealing with wanting to idk kiss you so bad but you're trying to teach him a lesson and he's sooooo mad and fuck, he's gonna do whatever he can to get you to comply to him lmao. if i could draw, there's this one scene where you're wearing this like. cute little set of pjs staring up at this big ass demon, wings unfurled threateningly, snarl on his face, arms crossed with a line of salt in between the two of you. like i have a vision. too bad i can't draw it LMFAOO. maybe one day

2. holding out (just for you) — dragon!bkg x reader

in which you find a horrendously injured dragon in a cave and make it your duty to heal him, not knowing that he’s the infamous dragonshifter, bakugo katsuki, who has been cursed to remain trapped in his dragon form forever—unless the spell is broken

this fic... oh boy. i've been working on this fic since mmm 2021 i think? i can't believe it's been a year since the big bang LMFAOO. i also can't blv this shit evolved from being a standalone to having 3 spinoffs and a sequel but well. here we are. complaints aside i really do have fun writing this fic!! i dunno!! i dont think i'd ever read a dragon bkg fic before and i was like fine i'll do it myself and this happened. i added way too much plot and you guys don't even know about half the worldbuilding and shit i have planned for the sequel HAHA. i can't even talk about it bc it would be major spoilers rn rhrsfjhrjfrjrhjg. it's also been giving me such a rough time lately pfft, especially with having to make sure everything lines up for the spinoffs n stuff. im so afraid of publishing ch4 and having to go back and tweak things bc i havent planned out far enough sdkjfsjkdf. i think it just means i'm gonna have to go on a hiatus or smthn and write out all the spinoffs + ch4 at once idk

3. and i give my all (to you) — merman!bkg x reader

you think you bit off more than you could chew when you decided to do your dissertation on ocean acidification, leaving you stranded out in the open ocean. alone. for months. well… maybe you weren’t so alone after all

this is another fic that i've been working on way longer than it's been posted for pfft. i can't blv the first chapter was released over a year ago LMAOOO i am so sorry. i do like this fic tho bc it's one of the easier ones to write and i go back to it sometimes between writing for dragon bkg lol. like i have the chapters all mapped out, all i have to do is sit down and write em. ch2's at abt 3k rn tho and i hit a spot where i'm like oof i dont wanna write these descriptions dfhdkfg it's just a silly goofy story with merbaku and dealing with some of the subtle intricacies of getting to know a mermaid. actually, fun fact, this originally started off as a fic for jotaro from jjba, back when i was in my jjba era. but then i went back to my bkg era and switched it over. i didn't even have to change much LMFAOO jotaro and bkg act the same sometimes. also!! this is the first fic where i'm like... drawing little doodles for each chapter!! and it's so nice but also i'm like damn wtf do i draw for the rest of these chapters.... i'll figure it out ig

4. loving all the parts of you — pro hero!bkg x reader

in which you learn to love all the prickly parts that make up bakugou katsuki

i.. don't think i've thought about this fic for a very, very long time. but i just scrolled thru the masterlist and stuff and i... really liked writing it (when i was focused on it anyways). it's one of my gentler fics tbh. it's more of a character study of bkg, exploring a different aspect of him in each chapter. tbh i need to go through and reread it and make edits so it can better match the writing style i have now, but i rly liked thinking abt what would make bkg tick as a pro and as a person. and tbh, with what i know now of the manga and anime i think i could go very deep with it pfft. also the banner i made for this fic is so cute LOL. it's not high on my priority list rn bc i have other things i wanna work on, but i do hope to return to it one day.

5. forget me not — pro hero!bkg x reader

When you first woke up, you found yourself in a white room, lights blinding you from all directions. A bit disoriented, you squinted and looked around, realizing you were chained to a chair, your arms locked behind you. In front of you was a poster of a man, muscles rippling throughout his body, a spiky mess of ash blond hair nestled on his head, and striking crimson eyes glaring right at you from behind a black mask. In the upper right corner was the name “DYNAMIGHT” in black and orange letters. As you observed the poster, the sound of a P.A. system suddenly rang into existence, the deep, hoarse voice of an unknown person echoing around you. “Your name is [Name] [Surname],” the voice said without emotion, “and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki.”

THIS FIC... THIS FCKIN FIC. i have so much i can say about this fic and i am so sorry for the oncoming ramble pfft. firstly, it's both my baby and my number one fucking enemy. like, holy shit i think it gave me the most paralyzing anxiety and bc of this it took me like 3-4 years to finish (apart from being generally busy of course). i started it literally while i was in high school n applying to college, so of course there are aspects of it that i look at now and i'm like mmm don't like that. not to mention there have been so many things that happened in the anime/manga that i wasn't able to add or delve deeper into!! like the war!! bkg's fcking trauma!! midoriya's quirks!! i was an anime only when i first started releasing chapters (and i still am), so i didnt know about the endeavor agency arc or anything so i defaulted to shit with best jeanist and idkidk.

if i could rewrite all of fmn, i think i would. or maybe not all, but a good chunk of it. like i'd condense the first few chapters probably. i also have a different grasp of bkg's characterization now compared to when i was younger lmao. putting bkg in that specific circumstance (iykyk, i wont spoil it) only happened bc of certain outside factors that forced him into that position. which was how i was able to justify it. but... idk. IDK!! this fic had so many things to it that i was not knowledgeable about so i winged a lot of things without doing proper research (i.e. hospitals, police investigations, general bureaucracy and whatnot) and i feel like this has caused certain plot holes that i am not able to detect, but like.... it's been so long already that i'm too lazy to fix it.

i just really wanted to write about having amnesia but... still having this muscle memory and ache of the person you were in love with. that you can fall in love with them all over again. but, jeez, i put the reader through so much that there's so much... trauma and brainwashing and just rhhrhjrkhrhgrkjg. she's a mess and a half!! and this makes it so difficult to read fmn bc she's so frustrating!! but! at the same time idk it was interesting exploring that kind of ptsd and recovery. i think at my core i love writing about truly heartwrenching topics and horror. i rmb i had the most fun writing about reader's nightmares or that one chapter where she was messing around with illusions. actually- one of the things i would change is the reader's fckin quirk and hero name LMAOOOOO what the fuck i made her so op i basically just smashed together dr strange's and wanda's powers for her pfft. i'd also tweak her personality a little, i think.

i digress. anyways. im in the process of editing all of fmn (just like. writing tweaks. changing the phrasing of certain sentences. adding more fluff to descriptions) and i can really see how much my style has evolved lol. like, i am the most happy and proud of the later chapters, where you can really feel certain emotions with bkg and reader. like... the beach scene, or the stakeout scene, or the party scene!! i think i would also add more substance to the investigation and how being a hero is like post-war. the antagonists as well!! there's just so much that could've been built on, but at the same time... i didn't want to go too deep into it bc i was writing an amnesia recovery story.

flaming aside, i am very glad i was able to pull those plot twists successfully LOL. i loved reading people's theories back when i was still updating it, seeing them question things and being like wait a minute... no way... it can't be... it was an era i will never forget pfft. but... because of that expectation i think i was very nervous to reveal specific things or even write the ending bc i didn't know if people would be satisfied lol. fmn was so complicated and for what sdfkjhs. fanfic shouldnt make you this anxious fr and yet there i was. i'm glad im done with it, but at the same time.. i do miss it.

tldr: fmn is the fic that i am the most proud of but also the most insecure LMFAOO. i do eventually want to get to the extra chapters from bkg's pov for it but... idk. i don't wanna even look at it right now sdhfskdfjsf

thank u all for coming to my ted talk B) i'm sorry if u've been tagged alr in this but here we go anyways!! no pressure tags: @earthtooz @call-me-ko @thecatduet422 @boo-kugo @theloveinc <3

#jeez that fmn ramble rly is long but it is what it is #i could go on even more about it ngl #but i wont sdkhksdf #gamer girling w shay

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chidoroki · 7 months

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182 Days of TPN - Day 165

Chapter 165: "You Can Fly!"

(I've finally reached that point where those old chapter reviews of mine became consistent, so if there's some deja vu moments with stuff I say from here onwards then I apologize. Might not happen since those were done blindly while I have a perfectly good idea of what happens in the story now, but I'll look back at those posts just in case so I don't become a broken record.)

I find it so adorable that even after so many years, Isabella still thinks of Leslie.

The hatred I feel for Sarah has grown immensely over the past couple months, so of course now I can't help but feel a bit giddy over her being shipped out. Peter eventually comes in with a comment stating that the farm made the decision based on who, between Isabella or Sarah, would be more beneficial to the farms, and with the impressive results Isabella has made during her time as caretaker, she was chosen as the obvious choice to keep around. And rightfully so. Thank heavens.

I know this poor woman just wanted to be free from all this hell and while I certainly don't wish to see Isabella suffer under the farm's rules and restrictions anymore, I love her too much to just see her get killed off, so you gotta stick around for a couple more years to help out the kids honey. It'll be worth it.

As much as I despise the man, I do like the intense shadow Peter gets across him during this panel. It really makes the sinister aura believable with how terrified Isabella looks, and for a woman who's been around death for so long and perfected a strong facade over the years to actually show some kind of fear, that's quite impressive he managed to make her feel that way.

After all this time and now I'm just getting the feeling that Isabella was crying a bit sometime during that panel of her looking at her number and chip implant in the mirror back at GF. Anyways, I know it was intentional for her to look completely scared upon making this deal with Peter here, but I love that it's all just an act as we later find out in ch170. (also, not important but this is my post so it was gonna get mentioned anyway: absolutely thankful that the second season decided to keep Isabella's hair down during this scene. She may have made the deal with one of the GF demons instead of Peter, but I can forgive the anime for that because Isabella just looked so perfect.)

Duh, everything this woman does is impressive. Sure, it's real bummer for those kids who had to be shipped out, but at least we learned during 181.7 that she did lower the frequency of the shipments so a fewer number of children were shipped out all together. It was a whole quality over quantity idea that worked out well so good for her. The less lives lost the better.

I'm certainly repeating myself from somewhere, but the way Isabella was able to successfully rally all the other moms and sisters together in less than a day is just fantastic. Such a power move. I still geek out over it.

Motherly instincts kicking back in (pfft, silly me, as if they ever left. that's genuine concern on her face). It's certainly a painful way to fix a finger but at least she helped!

The switch from "mom" to "caretaker" happens so quick it could give someone whiplash. Honey, I know this is all part of a grand performance but I don't like when you openly treat your precious children as food!

Still wondering how y'all managed to cross the giant cliff in order to sneak into headquarters but whatever works I guess. I'm certain they didn't just cross the bridge since security probably would've been alerted much sooner and I'm not gonna believe they arrived via random hot air balloons like the second season did. Regardless, it was quite a surprise to see Norman armed with a gun but very welcomed. Seeing him in the shelter jacket and pants is a good look for him too.

Favorite panel/moment:

Oh to be lucky enough to receive a hug from such a beautiful woman.

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

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arklayraven · 20 days

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hi there~, not trying to spook you with a random anon ask or anything aaaa-- just sending this way because i can't actually send from the blog i'd like to, because side blog struggles ; w ; (said blog being @melting-sugar-cubes btw--)

but~, i just wanted to say that even if it's not something you post about very often-- or maybe don't feel like many people pay attention to… i for one still really enjoy seeing another person around who's a fan of Therapy Game/Hinohara-sensei's other works 💕

seeing as those mangas have kinda been my obsession for a couple years now, since i first picked them up lol-- and like… since most other fandoms i've been highly interested in are hella small-- it just… feels nice to see other people sharing in an interest i have for a change-- finally sorry this was so fuckin random aaaaa-- but i had this thought and just... felt like i wanted to share it with you ;////;''

(and just as one actual final thing-- since i noticed from the most recent posts that things seem to be kinda hard for you rn... i hope they get better soon 💖 or that at the very least, this silly/awkward little ask might brighten you day/night a little /)//w//(\)

It's alright, I understand! ;u;

Aaaaa reading this made me very happy! Thank you! I'm so happy to know you enjoy my posts of them whenever I share them here. As well it's so nice to meet another fan of the mangas too! Since they are such a self comfort and joy for me now(even if angst is often involved in them pfft)! ;w; 💜

This reminds me that I planned to make more edits for those mangas again. Just kept forgetting. Hope to not forget this time! lol

(Thank you, I hope so too. And your ask certainly made me feel better and smiles lots too! Thank you!!! (⺣◡⺣)♡ 💖🫂)

#;answered

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murfeelee · 2 years

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Check In Tag

Thanks @ktarsims for tagging me here!

I’m still not dead--luckily, I’m in the home stretch; just two more weeks and the semester’s done! I just have about a zillion papers and exams to get through, FML, LOL.

_____________________________________________

Why did you choose your URL?

Cuz all I could think of was my frikkin name, like a baby idiot with no creativity.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Too effing long. 2023 will make 10 whole years, good grief.

Do you have a queue tag?

No, but I queue up everything anyways.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

Cuz TSR was making me mad, and I liked the simblrs that were already here, and figured this was a great way to have some autonomy over how I simmed and shared content, without the peanut gallery yelling at me every stinking time I tried to upload something.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

It was part of a dumb silly little story I made for TSR back when Dragon Valley first came out, about how the gods blessed Sakura with a baby dragon. I reuploaded it on my simblr for the lulz. Don’t take it seriously, trust me, LOL.

Why did you choose your header?

It's from the same style of header/border I used way back in my TSR days.

What’s your post with the most notes?

My TS4 Rant - Still Unimpressed rant from back in 2015, jfc. It’s been HOW LONG since this wack AF mobile game in disguise was released? I can’t.

How many mutuals do you have?

How do we even tell anymore?

How many followers do you have?

A lot.

How many people do you follow?

Plenty. And I lurk even more.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Sadly no; I’m not clever enough. U_U

How often do you use tumblr every day?

Barely at all lately; this new grad school I’m in is effing annoying; their numbers are woefully low, especially after the pandemic, so they’ve got me doing way too much work on crap that I don’t even specialize in; it’s really starting to tick me off. I didn’t come here for this crap.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I have stepped on soooooo many TS4 simmers’ toes, it’s hilarious. I’ve had EA sycophants and paywall apologists cuss me out in my PMs, IMs, reblogs, etc. I don’t engage--I post my rants for posterity, not to hash crap out with people. My beef is with EA directly.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

My blog my rules. I reblog what i want, and post what I want, when I want.

Do you like tag games?

I lovelovelove questionnaires and games. I avoid tagging, because I’m always afraid I’ll leave someone out, and I don’t want people to think I don’t like them.

Do you like ask memes?

I don’t even wait around for people to send the asks--I always just answer all of them at once, LOL.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Tumblr famous and Simblr famous are 2 different things. I've had quite a few Simblr famous mutuals, but what even is being Tumblr famous anymore? O_o

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No, but I am deeply in love with several simblrs’ art styles and gameplay aesthetics, in TS2, 3 AND 4. Pure chef’s kiss. So inspirational; I wish I had more time to sim, and try new things!

_____________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

I tag anyone; y’all know I can’t do this, pfft!

#simblr #the sims 3 #questionnaire

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yanderelovlies · 1 year

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✨Galaxy Anon ✨ here!

No worries. I just got worried it didn’t send that time but glad to know you’re indulging in your hobbies! Take all the time you want with that ( except sleep and eating. You got to make sure you do that!). Ooh what is it then? Besides as you can tell I took awhile too. I don’t respond on weekends and I could barely look at my phone on Monday.

I give up! * lays on the floor* This is what you done!

Ooh glad to hear you have an interest in it. I promise it does get better and also always keep a look out for some codes and not to mention some episodes will be important later especially a particular episode where it seems silly until you will learn the more sadder implications of it. Trust me it will break you.

Oh definitely understand since you have to make sure you don’t also become a hoarder as well lol. Ooh then I definitely will check it out, I kinda want to find something I want for once other than food to get. Lore hearing is great. Ooh at least I know which one you got into first. Not to mention now knowing which game Dante came from for sure. Thanks I really appreciate it! Oh definitely I respect what they do it’s just a me thing when I can’t hear them for certain reasons. Aww that’s so cute you admire his work for that long and that he has cheered you up in your childhood and now had such a impact on you. Actually since you know how he was from years of watching him what did change in his content? I’m curious now. I’m not complaining or anything I’m actually pretty curious since I watch him only from month to month for like a day or two. Also it was pretty hilarious to me when mark announced if he got a certain amount of bites on his stuff on platforms like Spotify he get a only fans and everyone went for that shit pfft I was like “ Damn y’all thirsty.” It was so funny seeing everyone screaming to check mark stuff on Twitter.

I just hope mark doesn’t ever have any allegations of being a sexual predator or harassment. I actually doubt it because he is one of the people I never expect it from but unfortunately a lot of YouTubers even big names have done some messed up shit. At least I don’t have to worry about that now for him.

Is there any differences in game mechanics or how the world building is?

Ahh I see. As long as you don’t shame anyone who does I respect that. I mean it isn’t your thing and that’s okay. Pfft why so?

Yup.

Hooray can’t wait for you to check it out.

Hehe guess we both have the same habit.

Yes unfortunately in a lot of workplaces we have the toxic mindset the customer is always right and that won’t change and sometimes we the workers need care and nope don’t get that in our job description. At least there were good to you. Hate to think if they weren’t.

Hey no worries. I totally understand. Just know I will always support you. You don’t have to be sorry to have some things private. I mean to be honest a lot of people are to public about everything and unfortunately that could bite them in the ass later. No worries I know you meant no malice by it.

Really? Huh it actually sounded so similar to mine…now I kinda wanna know who requested it lol they read my mind! Person who requested it good idea! Sure no problem do anything you need to do.

Yeah! Hit me up if you ever need angst prompts.

Also viví are you okay?! I saw in your posts your door was opened when you woke up and while I think you said nothing was taken you sure about that? Your belongings still there? And this maybe more awkward but I need to make sure you totally okay there weren’t anything…suspicious on yourself? I don’t want to think something like that happened to you but I need to know you’re absolutely alright.

I would say the Mass Effect series. I own the first three games on three different consoles. the fourth one on two different consoles, and it's always the game I turn to for comfort or boredom. I've been finding myself more distracted these days, and I'm not even sure why??

:> do you need a pillow and blanket to make it more comfy??

lol why does that feel so evil when you put it that way??

Lore is my distressing time, lol. oh gosh, it would take me a long time to compile the changes, but the one I noticed is how he is with a fan base. To me, he went from a more rigid approach to now they are like old friends. He keeps the fan base updated on everything he is doing with his channel. he addresses them when he feels like they are overstepping. Really, I'm just glad that all his success hasn't gone to his like some other youtubers.

Honestly, I have lost a lot of respect for old comfort youtubers cause of that behavior. It even taints some of the groups they were a part of for me. Vanoss and crew are one of them.

for mechanics, yes. Dark Souls is the type of game where you have to time your attack and roll or get punished by the enemy. Enemies and even detects you what attack or movement you will use to attack to get you. You use souls that you get from enemies to level up and upgrade wepons and other things. When you die, all enemies respawn, you get sent back to the last checkpoint, and you lose all your souls.

Devil May Cry, you can change difficulty, which means you can change how you handle the game. you can go all out button smashing and killing, or you can time you attacks, and taunts, to get better grades. on top of that, you can also turn to devil trigger to take down enemies quicker. enemies drop red orbs (which are crystallized demon blood) that you can use to upgrade weapons and abilities. When you die, you can use a yellow orb to continue (that's brings down the level grade, though) or restart from a checkpoint with you red orbs.

World building is very different as well. with dark souls lore can be learned through the little cutscenes and dialog in the game as well as items you pick up. To me, it's hard to piece together on its own, and that's why I turn to YouTube.

Devil May Cry you learn the lore through just playing the game, watching the anime, and reading the few Mangas they released. it's really all laid out. You just gotta put the games in the right order.

Nope! I only shame if it's illegal cause why??

Fire emblem already has things I don't agree with (that isn't in all the games btw) I don't wanna see the Incest fics.

eey habit twins!

Honestly, I think they did cause I didn't cause trouble. I kept to myself and took whatever rooms they gave me. I learned not to complain about what we got since they had a whole meeting about it my first month there. The only thing I got yelled at for was headphones which I never understood.

that's one of my biggest fears. I already dealt with it I don't want some trying to use against my bad parts of my family against me. Thank you for understanding, galaxy 🥺💕

It's a really good idea, and im fleshing it out more. I really hope they like it when its done 😭

Yes, I'm okay! I've checked everywhere and everything. I even checked all my bigger closets, just in case. I was really lucky that nothing happened to me or the animals cause I really have no idea how long that door had been open.

#vivi talks #galaxy anon

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ramonahblog · 2 years

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Sorry for people who need order. I have decided to write and post this out of order. Also not going to lie, a lot of this post is just me wanting the group’s jackets/coats (and Tao’s beanies) throughout the episode.

Overall Here, Episode One Here

Heartstopper Review Rambles

Heartstopper - Episode Six: Girls

Spoilers

- Opening with Nick looking up best lgbt movies. Trying to gear up to suggest one to his mum and see how she reacts? Just trying to find a lgbt movie in general?

- “What about Pirates of the Caribbean? It’s a classic,” - Sarah Nelson. Wow. Okay.

1. Now I feel old.

2. Now I really want to watch it. I’ve seen it before. It was a favourite of an ex-boyfriend. Gonna completely reveal myself and say I have no idea of the plot. I do remember the scene that is playing here though.

The other bits and pieces I remember: “I’m burning!”*, a little kid that appears for like three seconds crying and the stupid-ass corset scenes which I won’t rant about because otherwise we’ll be here all year day. And the sword fight between Caption Jack Sparrow and Will Turner. Please don’t rant about that either. I didn’t rant about the corset, you don’t get to reblog and rant about the swordfight.

*You have no idea how long that line has been living in my head and how I had no idea where the fuck it was from until I watched Heartstopper.

- ah the way Nick’s eyes shift between Elizabeth and Will. It’s starting to click.

- pfft Nick wtf, why are you not using earphones/headphones? Do you not have any? Is this brave or just Nick confirming he’s a himbo? Is his mum at work or something? Does she do a nightshift and so Nick is alone? What is the in-universe explanation for this?

omg silly headcanon alert: Nellie is laying on Nick’s earphones/headphones in revenge for all the months of pining she had to listen to

- omg omg there’s a little toy rugby ball on Nick’s bed. That’s adorable.

- fun fact, the youtuber Nick is watching is a real youtuber. His name is Courtney-Jai and he is bisexual. That’s all I really know since his videos are entitled “bisexual reacts to Heartstopper” and that is how I discover he was an actual youtuber.

- The fucking comments on Tara’s Instagram.

- Darcy is literally just having a conversation about gender-exclusive schools with her girlfriend. And those assholes eavesdropped. She sort of mumbled that “and I’m saying that as an absolute lesbian” comment.

- “It always pays to be prepared with anti-homophobia cheese,” - Darcy. A Queen. Also I did not actually have to watch this episode to say that line correctly because that’s how great it is.

- Nellie being the best wingdog and staying on the grass. 100/100

- Nick’s hair is so floofy (positive).

- Charlie’s curls are really nice.

- I really like both their jackets/coats here. I want them.

- omg Charlie. The way he gently moves Nick’s hands and the aim for a kiss.

- lol Nellie hogging up the entire bed. This is her payment for being the best wingdog.

- Nick being supportive of his musical boyfriend :D

- Aww Nicky came out to Tara!

- Tara’s smile. She’s so happy for Nick. Also I swear half of that smile is a I KNEW IT! smile.

- that little transition from sixteen-year-old!Tara and Nick to thirteen-year-old!Tara and Nick is always going to be adorable to me.

- Tara’s hair is great too.

- So is Darcy’s. Actually, everyone except Tao’s hair is great.

- I want Darcy’s hoodie tbh. It looks really nice and comfortable.

- haha apparently Darcy just needs to wait until someone comes out to Tara to jumpscare her.

I have no musical bone in my body and am not going to even try and attempt to name anything besides drums. It will be much less stressful for all you musical people out there, trust me on this one.

- I’m all caught up with the webcomics so now all I can think about watching this practice-rehearsal scene is comic!Nick’s “I’M SUPER LATE FOR MATHS” panel.

- I do want Tao’s jacket and beanie though.

- I want Tara’s jacket too.

- “When we were thirteen, I think I did like you,” - Nick to Tara. He may not have good taste in friends but his crushes are on point. Yes, I am using this as an excuse to link to this post.

- I really like Nick and Charlie’s jumpers here. I want them. I’m more partial to a hoodie so I want Nick’s jumper a bit more but both are very nice. This is just turning into a giant desire for jumpers and jackets.

- Charlie’s smile as Nick tells him he told Tara & Darcy about them.

- Pfft Charlie tackling Nick in response. The real reason he practiced tackling. My mind is made up now. That’s the true reason, you can’t change it.

- Well I’m back to wanting to throw ben into starving shark-infested waters now. Charlie’s never been on a date?

- Aww, the way Nick asks Charlie if he wants to go on one.

- Pfft the little happy dance Charlie does.

- I am all for the TaoxElle ship but please don’t set up people on dates unless they have asked you to set them up on dates.

- wow. I want Tara’s room. I don’t know what that says about me but I want it.

- omg Tao and Elle are those students. Good for them. Also I want Elle’s outfit. Actually just her jacket. And yep, I want everyone’s jacket/coat in the milkshake scene.

- Elle was very clear to Darcy and Tara that she does not want to reveal her crush on Tao to Tao.

- I still say Bubblegum Milkshake is a great choice and I stand by that statement.

- Sharing drinks on a date is very cute in theory but it should only be in fiction. It’s the drink-version of kissing in rain. Cute in theory, not good in practice. Unless everyone on the date is truly okay with sharing drinks, I suppose.

- Noo, Charlie sweetie. It was a good suggestion.

- “you didn’t have to witness all the months of intense pining-” - Elle, Nellie would like a word with you. I’m sticking to Nellie was the sole witness to the full-context of Nick’s months of intense pining. And Nellie lives with him. Pour one out for Nellie.

- fucking assholes ruining the scene.

- Yes, Darcy, go after Tara.

- awww, Charlie’s smile as Nick tells him he thinks he might be bisexual. Charlie’s just happy Nick is finding himself.

- aww Tara. Excuse me while I try and climb into the screen again to hug her.

- shoutout to Tao for representing all the tall people who cannot run. Also the fact that he can’t run but was doing so anyway to help find Tara and Darcy is great.

- omg a big leadup to the concert and it just cuts to closing credits. That’s really funny. I mean I’m glad but it’s still really funny.

#heartstopper review rambles #heartstopper show #heartstopper episode six girls #heartstopper episode six #spoilers #long post

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apparitionism · 3 years

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Propagator 7

It’s been quite some time since I updated this story, and if it’s mostly forgotten, so be it. But I finish everything, even if it takes years—and the enthusiasm of kind tumblr users @akittennameddaisy and @crow25 pushed me to get this update out before even more years went by. This is the ninth story in my version of Ballet AU, much history of which is detailed in this post from the instigator, @amatterofcomplication; also see @notallwonder ‘s beautiful program depicting it all. In my universe, prima ballerina Helena is spending her life with materials engineer Myka, who designs wearable items such as costumes and athletic gear. Their relationship, and various associated ones, evolved through those prior eight stories (collected as Dynamics on AO3), and Propagator (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6) is where they are now. Forgive me the self-indulgence, but: I love this family, particularly since I had no idea at first that they would become one. Not like this. Anyway, this installment, in terms of subject matter and, particularly, initial p.o.v., is likely to make very little sense absent all the previouslies.

Propagator 7

The next day you go with Sam and Aunt Tracy to a dance studio you’ve never been to before, to meet somebody who is Sam’s friend. They don’t tell you why when you ask, but Aunt Tracy says, “I think it might be an adventure.”

You are just about as tall as Sam’s friend is—really just about, not just wishing you could be, like with almost everybody else (except you are getting closer to Sam). His name is J.J., so you ask him what the J’s stand for. “If you don’t mind saying,” you make sure to add, because Mom and Mama have both told you that sometimes you ask questions that are too personal, and that isn’t polite.

He smiles, and you get the feeling he likes that you were careful. “I don’t mind. Stands for Janjak. It’s Haitian. My mom came here from Haiti, and she named me for my grandpa.”

“I like that name. I have a friend in school and she’s J.J. too, and her name starts with Jane, which is kind of like Jan, and then Josette. Does that mean it’s Haitian?”

He says, “Well... I don’t know all the names in Haiti. Do you know all the names in England?”

It’s a funny question. “No,” you say. “Why?”

“I heard that’s where one of your moms is from.”

Oh... “Could I know all the names in England?” There are probably a lot, but that sounds like something you might—

“No,” Aunt Tracy says, like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. She’s just like Mama that way sometimes, even though they’re not related. “And please don’t try.”

Sam makes a little pfft noise. “Amateurs. I know every name in the Islamic Republic of Iran.”

You are skeptical. (Skeptical is a really important word that you learned from Mom’s assistant Claudia one time when you told her that Mom would probably think it was fine if you used the lab’s new stress-strain analyzer to test your favorite leotard and your least favorite one so you could get some empirical proof that your favorite one, the Bering one, was better, and Claudia had said it would certainly be proof of something, but she was skeptical about whether she would keep her job if she let you obtain this empirical proof, so you also learned the word obtain but it just means get so it’s less important.) “Every single one?” you ask Sam.

“Sameen,” Tracy says, like a warning, but also a little bit silly, like how she sometimes says “Junior” when you are being more of a kid than she thinks you should but she’s going to let you go ahead and be a kid.

“Yeah, that’s one of ’em,” Sam says. “If you guess the other six, you win a prize.”

You decide right then that you will google about the Islamic Republic of Iran and try to figure out the other names, because Sam is probably kidding and there’s no prize, but Sam might not be kidding and there might be a prize. Because you never know with Sam.

It turns out to be really true that you never know with Sam: because the reason you’re visiting and talking to J.J. is that Sam thinks J.J. could make it so Mama could dance. Not ballet though.

“What would she think about that?” J.J. asks you, about it not being ballet.

You know the answer to this. You look at Aunt Tracy to see what to do, because you are pretty sure she knows the answer too... she nods, so you say, “Mama would think it isn’t really dancing. But she might not say it. To be polite.”

Sam says, “Polite. Right. As if that’s ever been Senior’s—”

J.J. tells Sam to shush, and Sam makes a face but actually does shush. You look at Aunt Tracy again. Now her face is all big, like she’s as amazed as you are.

“Sounds like she wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings,” J.J. says. “That’s a good place to start. If we’re talking about dancing, though, it might have to happen anyway. Both ways.”

You don’t know about J.J., but Mama’s feelings are already so hurt. “Why would it have to?” you ask.

You hope maybe he’ll just say he’s wrong and it won’t have to after all. But instead he says, “I heard you’re in ballet. Does anybody ever hurt your feelings in class?”

In ballet, there is just one right way to do everything. Sometimes you can’t get to the right way because your legs won’t do what you want or you lose track of your hands or you get tangled in your brain. Miss Leena is always nice and says it’s okay, and you know she means it—but it doesn’t feel okay. And you look at the other kids who are doing it right and it feels even less okay. “Yes,” you tell J.J. “But mostly I hurt my own feelings.”

“Tell me why that happens.”

“Because sometimes I can’t do things right.”

He’s quiet for a minute, like he’s really thinking about your words. Eventually, he says, “Or is it that you’re doing things different? Can you show me fifth, then a demi-plié?”

You can. So you do. Like Miss Leena taught you—and it feels like a long time ago now—arms up, round; feet solid, down; feet stay down, arms stay round as you bend your knees and bring your arms low.

Now J.J. says, “What if you do it again, but this time wiggle your shoulders around, back and forth, side to side, while you sweep your arms down?”

Wiggle your shoulders in a plié? “But that’s wrong.”

“Not wrong here. Just different.”

It seems like something you shouldn’t do though. You tell that to J.J.

He nods and says, “Okay. Maybe you shouldn’t. But if your mama wants to dance now, she might have to do things she thinks she shouldn’t. Does she want to dance?”

You tell him what you told Sam. “She can’t.”

“Hm,” J.J. says. Then he asks another one of his funny questions: “Has she always danced the same way?”

“Yes?” you try, because that’s what you guess he wants the answer to be.

You guessed wrong: J.J. shakes his head. “I bet when she was your age, she danced more like you do.”

“You mean she learned. And got better.”

“Got different, anyway. Her dancing changed, with time. And so maybe now, with more time, it could change again. Because her body’s different now, right?” he asks, and you do have to agree with that, because having a hip made out of titanium is absolutely different than having a hip that’s regular bone. He says, “And bodies let us know what they can and can’t do. For example I’m strong, but my body tells me, real clear, real loud, I shouldn’t lift people bigger than me.”

“Could you lift me?” you ask, because what counts as bigger? Is it tallness? You’re just about as tall...

He looks at you, the whole of you. He says, “I’m not sure.”

You like the way J.J. says things, like he is really not kidding. It’s like Sam when she forgets to be careful. “Do you want to try?” you ask.

He smiles big, and it’s like a light turns on—on his face, in the studio, maybe everywhere. “I want to try if you want to. But only if you do.”

You nod at him.

He puts his hands at your waist. “Stay strong in your middle,” he tells you. “Arms out, legs too; don’t wobble.” He lifts you up, and there’s a first part where neither of you is balancing totally right, but then his arms straighten, and you are in the air above him, looking down, arms out, legs too, not wobbling (much), and he is looking up and asking you, “Where do we go from here?”

You expected him to tell you what should happen next, so you start to say “I don’t know”—but then you think of the videos of Uncle Liam and Mama doing the angel lift in the pas de deux in Giselle (whenever you ask anything about that ballet, everybody, even Grandpa, makes jokes about how very meaningful it was, and all they ever say to explain the jokes is that it was how Mom and Mama met each other, but that doesn’t seem like something to joke about, so you are always confused and also a little angry, and then you get angry on top of that, because Giselle is beautiful and you don’t want to have to be confused or angry about it) but anyway every time you see that lift, you sort of wish Uncle Liam would do more than just pick Mama up and set her down again, even though that’s one of the most beautiful parts but not quite as beautiful as the arabesques, so you say, “Can you turn me around in a circle?”

“I can.” He turns in the softest circle, like his feet, his bare feet, are just brushing the floor, and you move through the air just as soft, like you are lying on it to rest or even sleep. Then he turns again, this time stamping his feet, chanting a little “ha” with each stamp, and now you feel the rhythm all the way through your arms and legs, all the way out, your whole body drumming along. “Good circles?” he asks when he stops.

“Best circles! What now?”

J.J. laughs. “My arms are getting tired. Can you somersault down behind me if I lower you head first?”

“I can,” you say, trying to be as sure as J.J. was about turning you in a circle. He lets you down—and you do the somersault! By the time you stand up and turn around, he’s turned around too, and he’s nodding and clapping his hands, that same rhythm of his stamping feet, and you say what’s in your head: “I want to shout!”

“So shout!” he shouts at you.

You do: you shout back, a big “Ah!” because you and J.J. just did something new, together, without knowing what it was going to be or supposed to be, and you don’t feel totally sure that it’s dancing, but you are also feeling a little sure that maybe it is.

He asks, “So how was that?”

What’s in your head now? “It was a surprise,” you say, and that’s a surprise too, that that’s what you wanted to say.

“Could I surprise your mama?” J.J. asks. “Should I? Not with a lift—I’m sure I can’t lift her—but is surprise a good idea?”

Surprising Mama gets her attention. Almost always, and it’s almost always her good attention. Sometimes you try to surprise her just so you can get her good attention. If J.J. can surprise her into dancing... “Yes,” you say, “but only if you don’t make her do anything that hurts her except for her feelings that she might hurt for herself anyway. You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Because Mama’s pain is usually a two or a three or even sometimes a one now. Not eights. And it feels silly to think what you think next, because you probably can’t do it, but what you think is that you want to save her from eights.

J.J. says, “The safety of every person’s body matters to me. I promise.”

Those words make you feel so good. You want to ask why that matters to him, because the way he says it, it sounds like he has a real why. But the promise maybe means you don’t need to ask.

You look at Aunt Tracy and Sam. They’ve stayed quiet while you and J.J. were talking—and even while you and J.J. were maybe (probably) dancing. Sam staying quiet isn’t normal, so it means something. Aunt Tracy being quiet is very normal, but it usually means something too.

You hope it means they’re thinking what you’re thinking: that J.J. might really make it so Mama could dance.

****

The day after their beach day, Myka and Helena receive a Skype call from Tracy. She deposits Junior in front of the screen, saying, “You wanted to talk to them, so talk.”

They hadn’t made plans for a call with Junior before they left. Helena had raised the possibility of setting a time, but in a way that suggested she thought exactly what Myka did about bringing such a plan to fruition: if they had scheduled it, they both would have been waiting for it, enduring the time until it arrived. This way, it’s an unexpected treasure. Or even a reward? Or it might have ended up, depressingly, as a consolation, and Myka is relieved that that isn’t so, but on the whole she supposes her delight (and Helena’s) at the sight of Junior confirms Helena’s point: they are stereotypes, as preoccupied by their child—and as willing to let that preoccupation loom larger than other work—as any other parents.

Myka’s initial question to Junior about what’s been fun elicits a familiar cascade of barely followable information, culminating in “—and Aunt Amanda coached me at swimming and Pete said I can be disease twins with him.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Helena says, saving Myka the need to say it.

“Lice and rabies,” Junior informs her, with seriousness.

What Myka does say, to Helena, is, “What does Amanda see in him?”

“He is very kind to our daughter.”

“I didn’t ask what you see in him.”

“Do you feel some renewed need to familiarize yourelf with the attributes your swimmer finds attractive in anyone?” Helena demands.

The hauteur makes Myka want to disconnect the call and demonstrate what she does want to familiarize herself with. Instead she says, as mildly as she can, “I’d think you’d enjoy explaining in detail how far down she traded.”

Meanwhile, Junior is enthusing, “And I want to grow my hair really really long so I look like Jason Momoa so I can be Aquawoman!”

“Not the worst goal,” Myka tells her. Jason Momoa. She’s never been able to get a clear read on whether she finds Junior so irresistibly charming because she’s her child, or because Junior actually is charming. Of course any real charm, particularly as it works on Myka, is probably down to Helena’s influence anyway. “Speaking of your hair, lean down; we’re not seeing your whole face. Did you grow six inches?”

Junior looks down her body, then back up at the screen. “Not six. Maybe two. And a half.”

“Not six?” Helena asks, her tone indulgent. “Is Tracy failing to feed you?”

“We had chicken curry last night but Sam also had half a can of Pringles and the other half for breakfast today. Can I have Pringles?”

“Absolutely not,” Helena says.

“But Mama, they come in a can.”

“So does motor oil.”

Myka says, “I don’t think that’s true anymore. Not a good counterargument.”

“Well then, so does... wait, what does come in cans?”

“Tuna,” Myka offers. “Kidney beans. Tomato paste.”

“That does not help make my case against Pringles.”

“Maybe tomato paste does. Watch.” Myka raises her voice. “Hey Tracy, how do you feel about tomato paste in a can?”

“I feel like you’re trying to get me to say you might as well let her eat Pringles,” her sister shouts back, “because decent tomato paste only comes in a tube!”

“Not in our house when we were kids, you gourmet snob, and not in my house now!” To Helena, she says, “So it all depends on which kind of snob you want to be. Lots of options. Gourmet, nutrition—”

Junior interrupts, “Guess where we went today!” This is a tone Myka recognizes—also down to Helena—as “I am being paid insufficient attention.”

“What day is it?” Helena asks.

This dazzles Myka. She really doesn’t know. Together, we did that. Lost track of how the rest of the world names successive sunrises. She kisses Helena’s cheek, then turns back to Junior and asks, “Was it a class day? Was it ballet?”

“No, but we met—”

Sam literally elbows Junior out of the way, blocking her from the screen, saying, “So anyway, how’s the pineapples?”

Pineapples...? Myka is stranded. “How’s... what?”

Junior elbows her way back in. “Sam said you went there to have wild pineapples, because Mama couldn’t have them while she was doing rehab.”

A pause ensues. “Wild pineapples,” Helena then says, with an attempt at severity that Myka recognizes as barely contained hilarity.

“You know what I mean,” Sam says. “Tigers.”

She could at least have done them the courtesy of winking.

“Tigers like pineapples?” Junior asks.

Sam nods with purpose. “You bet they do. So much, they invent new ways to have pineapples. Don’t they, Senior.”

As Helena opens her mouth to answer in god only knows what way, Myka hastily says, “Junior, put your Aunt Tracy on right now.”

“She’s indisposed,” Sam says.

“Is she.”

“Busting a gut.”

“I’m fine I’m fine!” Tracy yells from wherever she is, but she’s laughing hard; Myka hears the snort. Since Tracy learned how to laugh, as an infant, she’s snorted, and Myka envies people who are singular, in whatever ways they are. Laughing: pig-snort Tracy wins, and so does donkey-honk Liam.

Helena has surrendered to laughter now too, in her non-singular way, and Myka asks, “Am I the only one who doesn’t find this funny?”

“I don’t get it either,” Junior tells her.

Myka wants to say, “Oh, I get it, Junior,” but she settles for, “You and I can find something else to get, that they won’t. Hey, what about the picture of me and my fabulous sand sculpture? Did you recognize it?”

“It looked kind of like a really thin tall castle.”

“It was a Type A indenter for a Shore durometer!” Myka is appalled at herself for being appalled that an eight-year-old doesn’t know this.

“But it was big. Indenters are tiny,” her daughter objects, and Myka is now appalled at how relieved she is by this objection, which means that Junior does know. “Anyway it was weird,” Junior finishes, petulantly. Helena-ly.

“I didn’t say it was to scale. Or maybe it was; it was looming pretty large in my mind. Once I start working on these wetsuits that I’ll tell you about when we get home, you’ll understand why. Won’t seem so weird.”

“It isn’t weird that it was an indenter! That’s normal! But you were smiling! On the beach! That’s even weirder than tigers liking pineapples! Why is everything so weird right now?”

Her vexed little face, as she tries to parse it all out... Myka would take pity on her, but honestly having any kind of “talk” over Skype, as it relates to pineapples, tigers, and Myka’s own renewed so-in-love-with-my-wife giddiness (Junior’s right: who is this person who smiles on a beach?), is more than a little beyond her. Despite the fact that she is clearly the only adult in either of these Skype-linked spaces. She settles for saying, “Nothing’s as weird as pineapples. Trust me.”

Once the call ends—thank goodness, and Myka could never have imagined the circumstances under which it would seem such a comedic mercy not to talk to their child, but this has been an unusual succession of sunrises—she says to Helena, “Wild pineapples. That we’re having.”

“In Ms. Shaw’s defense, though it pains me to contribute to any such thing, she wasn’t wrong.” Helena smirks. “Tiger.”

“Do you primas ever think about anything else?”

“What is your preferred answer, tiger?”

“How is it that you can get more impossible? And don’t try to get around me by calling me ‘tiger’ again.”

“Why not?” She’s about to say it; Myka can hear it tensing in her mouth, waiting to pounce.

“Because it’ll work,” Myka concedes.

Helena doesn’t say it. But her eyes dance with it as she advances on Myka... and that works just as well.

****

Sam understands that she can’t strangle this kid—if she did, several situations would all at once get very fucked up. However. “What did I tell you right before?” she demands. “What did I tell you?”

“To keep it a secret,” Junior says.

“And what did you chassé your way real close to not doing?”

“Keeping it a secret.” The kid at least winces as she says it.

“See? You do get it. Don’t play dumb with me, kid.”

“I’m not playing dumb! I just almost made a mistake, and you make those too. For example when you almost let Pas De out the door and into the hallway yesterday!”

Sam tries to shrug that off (though the kid has an annoying ability to make a point) with, “The cat wants its freedom. Maybe. Probably. I like dogs. Why don’t you have a dog?”

“Because I wanted a cat. Also Mama said no pygmy goats.”

“Ah,” Sam says, but... goats? “Sure. Logical next step.”

“If you like dogs so much, maybe you should get a dog.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t,” Tracy says from the kitchen, and Sam knows a warning when she hears one.

“Aunt Tracy, you should,” Junior says. “Then Sam would want to be here all the time, and that’s what you want too.”

“But I’d have a dog,” Tracy says, and Sam knows a shudder of dismay when she hears that, too.

Junior shrieks, “But also Sam!”

“No guarantees, Berings,” Sam tries to tell them.

“I’m a Bering-Wells,” says Junior. With that tone.

“And I don’t want a dog,” says Tracy, in exactly the same tone.

Sam gives up. She doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s there in her head: she gives up. What exactly the contours might be of what she’s giving up—that, she’s not so sure of.

****

Some time after the call from home, Myka and Helena go to the beach again—an excursion not lengthy, but sufficient. Helena relaxes under the delicate, attenuated evening light, so different from both the propulsive sunrise and the fierce, insistently cheerful afternoon shine.

“Do you need to sculpt again?” she asks Myka.

Myka leans to the sand, takes up a handful, tests it in her fingers. She then discards it, as if its grains have failed to measure up to the prior material. “I’d just make another indenter. Probably bigger, to make Junior think even harder about the scale.”

“You can’t wait to get to work on those wetsuits,” Helena says, because she knows her wife.

“I kind of can’t. Because I think the polyethylene—”

Helena, so lately thankful to know that she knows her wife, kisses Myka just as the overexplanation hits its on-ramp.

Instead they walk. Helena walks well. Sand is a challenge, but this evening she walks on it well.

When they return to the room, Helena runs a hand up Myka’s arm and asks, “Do you want to?” She’s tired but not too tired. Asking seems right.

Myka seems to appreciate the ask, saying “We don’t have to,” and adding, with a soft kiss as they reach the bed, toward which they have seemingly naturally moved, “we don’t even have to try.”

And they both, Helena knows, feel that as a relief. Decisions like this, now, aren’t decisions.

As they simply lie quiet together, relaxing in the post-decision dusk, Myka says, “You know, I’ve never minded managing you. It’s been my job to manage you. And maybe I’ll miss that if it goes away. Maybe I was already missing that.”

“You can manage me as much as you like,” Helena assures her. Reassures her.

“But what if there’s nothing to manage.”

“I think we both know that’s unlikely to ever be the case,” Helena says, another conscious attempt to reassure. “But... perhaps the stakes can be lower.”

Myka gives her a heartbeat of a pause. Then: “That doesn’t sound so bad,” she reassures back.

“Were we estranged?” Helena ventures, thought she knows the answer. She knows the answer, but she wants to know that Myka knows it—wants her to say it out loud. To get the taste out.

“Yes,” Myka says, with a accompanying nod. Helena is glad to feel it. Myka then says, “In a very literal sense.”

“A very bad literal sense,” Helena says.

Now she feels a chuckle. “You sounded just like Junior.”

“Isn’t it that she sounds like me? I’ve heard she’s my daughter.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Myka says. It’s not a clearing of that slate. This child, this reason. Helena knows she will most likely be unable to keep herself from stabbing with it again, for fights stay the same... but their impact can be, she knows, more or less palpable.

Myka obviously feels the tension, the knowledge, as it inhabits and does not leave Helena’s body. “We will make this work,” she says, with force.

And while Helena is persuaded of that, she needs yet more honesty. “How angry with me have you been? And how angry are you still? Please tell me the truth.”

Myka makes her wait. Helena of course has no morally justified ground from which to hurry her answer. Myka at last says, “I was always more scared than angry.”

“Your sister was right. Change, and how we’ve dealt with it. Or haven’t.”

“And it’s your body. And I can’t even understand it.”

Helena burrows against Myka’s arm. The slightly sunburnt skin of her deltoid is a radiant comfort. “I want to go home,” she sighs out. It is not what she expected to say.

“You are home,” Myka says, tightening her arms around Helena.

“You make a very fine metaphorical point. But I still want to go home.” As she says it again, it’s even more true.

“And leave this tropical paradise?”

“Which you hate,” Helena points out.

“Seriously, were you testing me?”

“I don’t know the real answer to that.”

Another chuckle, one that gladdens Helena. “Fair enough. Look, I’ll change the tickets if you want me to, but I might make you sign an affidavit to the effect that I did not agitate for this.” She pauses. “But you’re right. I think. We’ve done what we came here to do... and I miss her too.”

“You are beautiful and a mind reader.”

“So anyway, we’d better try to have that sex after all, even if it’s rote. Be noisy, make the most of this last Hawaiian night. And then I’ll deal with your strange ticket-changing request that isn’t at all what I also want.”

“It certainly doesn’t matter anymore that it’s Hawaiian, if it ever did. We truly could be anywhere.”

“Anywhere with a sunrise. And a Japanese breakfast,” Myka says.

“Yes. Tamagoyaki making my moral failings far more clear than, say... is there something typical of breakfast in Kansas City?”

“I bet it involves bacon.”

“My moral failings are many, but can you illustrate them with bacon?”

“Don’t they do everything with bacon now? Coat it with chocolate, make it into jam, cookies, pasta... illustrating moral failings doesn’t seem like a stretch. So maybe we just needed a breakfast. Oh, and a bed. You’ve got moral failings; I’ve got decrepitude. I’ve obviously also got moral failings, but I refuse to do anything on the floor anymore.”

“That’s just a challenge. Or it would be, if I could do anything at all on the floor other than fall onto it.”

“Don’t do that. Let’s acknowledge that our floor days are behind us. They were nice days, some of them, but—”

“Some of them?”

Myka’s loop of a smile against Helena’s cheek is perfect, as are her words: “I love that you’re predictable about that, prima.”

That they can make the most of it. They don’t, not quite. But that they want to and can try to and can laugh about not quite doing so... this is what they came here to remember: that even “not quite” is making the most of something.

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Propagator #part 7 #Ballet AU #I said I love this version of them #because I do #I have sat with them for over seven years now #and I have written some very true things #that I didn't know would be predictive #but bodies are fragile #and I assure you #you will do everything in your power #to help repair the ones that matter to you

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lin-nin · 3 years

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Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 4

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer: Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

-- Chapter 4: Library Discussions

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The library offered a quiet solace to you that was hard to find elsewhere. Hardly anyone else ever occupied it, and you were eager to find peace. So much had happened in such a short time, you wanted to just forget it. You considered burying yourself into a book but instead to just drape yourself across a chair. You hung your legs over one of the arms of the plush chair, neck craned over the other. Your fingers skimmed along the floor, eyes boring into the ceiling.

Why was everything so complicated? Who were your parents even expecting you to marry? You figured you would meet him in a few days. Assuming he was alive, of course. Had he met an accident and died, and Techno had become crown prince? Why were your parents so upset about Techno being your fiancé anyways? Surely his reputation wasn't that bad. Perhaps they were overreacting. You had doubts Techno would agree to a marriage only to rid of you.

Questions bounced around your head endlessly, ricocheting off one another. You had very few answers, no bread crumbs to follow for answers. There was no way to figure anything out about Techno without asking him directly. Which would be awkward, since you seemed unable to properly talk to him without stammering over your words. What a fool you tended to make of yourself.

The soft thump of boots on tile jarred you from your musings, eyes opening to seek out the source. When had you even closed them? You scanned the library, lifting your head up to look at the door way. Techno stood there, the faintest quirk to his lips as brown eyes bored into your frame. Right. You were a princess, draped sloppily over a chair. You scrambled to right yourself, dress fluttering around as you did. You flattened the fabric around your legs, pretending that it had not happened.

From across the room, you could hear that same small exhale leave Techno as it had earlier. He really was laughing at you. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck again, and you looked away for a moment to compose yourself. "Techno, I didn't expect you to come here. Not that you can't, of course! Just no one does." You threw your hands up in front of you as you tripped over your words, cursing a little in your head. Damn it. Every time.

You were relieved that his amusement at your fumbling wasn't loud. You probably would have wanted to crawl in a hole if it had been. Instead he simply walked towards one of the shelves, angling his head to examine the spines on the books. "I needed something to do. My father is busy with matters I really don't care to be involved with." That was probably the most he had said to you in one go, and you kinda wanted to gape. You just nodded,before remembering he couldn't see you.

"Me too. That's why I'm here. Lots to think about," You said, gaze never leaving Techno. You watched the loose ponytail sway against his back as his head turned to look at you instead. You met his gaze as best you could, as if holding your ground for whatever reason. He simply grunted, turning back to the books. Exciting. Another conversation dead like it was nothing. That would be happening a lot, wouldn't it?

Your eyes tracked his movements, watching as he took a book off the shelf, flipping it over and extending it out in front of him, rather far, to see it past the school. It was certainly a sight to see. You struggled to suppress a laugh, it coming out in the form of a breathy giggle instead. You couldn’t help it. All this effort for intimidation with a silly skull, just to look like a dork when trying to actually look at something.

"Pfft- wouldn't it be easier to just… not wear that thing? It surely causes more problems than its worth?" You questioned without much thought. You blanched a little when he turned to you again, his hand raising to touch the tusks of the mask.

"I like it. It looks cool," He stated simply. Cool?

"It looks scary until you try to do anything. Why not take it off?" You pressed again. You sat back more comfortably in your chair, watching him curiously. You could hear him huff softly from across the room. He didn’t answer for a long time, and you were positive he was going to just ignore you. You wouldn’t entirely be surprised.

“I don’t like taking it off around people outside of my castle.” You supposed it made fair enough sense. Kind of.

“Does it have to do with your scary reputation, or whatever it is?” You pressed on your questioning. You might as well while you were being given the chance. He carried on his way of perusing the books, grabbing a few and holding onto them.

“Yeah, something like that,” He murmured. You did consider asking him more about the mask, but didn’t want to push it. Something told you that it would be pointless. It was a subject to be pushed another day. Which you were alright with, in truth. You were going to have plenty of time with him to figure things out. The library lapsed into silence, though it wasn’t as unbearable as previous ones. He just continued on his way of choosing books, and you could only think about everything. Your future was very obscured, honestly. You didn’t know what to expect from it.

Your head leaned back as you thought about it all. What was his kingdom like? His family? Would it be warm and welcoming? Or would it be cold? You hoped it was warm, you wouldn’t last in a cold environment. You sighed softly, staring at the ceiling. That was the worst part of this all. The unknown factor of your future.

Books hit the table across from you, causing you to jerk your head up. Techno slid into one of the nearby chairs, lounging into it. You blinked a little in surprise, having expected him to leave the library the moment he had picked out his books. You paused, thinking on if you should start up another conversation. Surely he couldn’t read with that mask on. Not conventionally, at least.

After a few heartbeats, you decided it definitely wouldn’t hurt. “What’s your home like?” You murmured, trying to stamp down the apprehension you felt. Surely it was natural, but it was kind of embarrassing all the same. You toyed with the fabric of your dress, awaiting his answer. It was so hard to read his face, to tell what he was thinking.

“Nice. Mostly quiet, if you ignore my brothers. It’s not too bad there, not too different from here. You’ll probably like it,” He murmured, eyeing the books on the table. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be reading them until he went back to his room.

“Your brothers? What are they like?”

“I have 2, Wilbur and Tommy. There’s also Tubbo, he’s best friends with Tommy so he’s like a brother as well. Wilbur isn’t too loud on his own, he’s nice. Tommy is… loud, and crude. Obnoxious at times,” He sighed, head shaking slightly. “Tubbo is kind. Tommy makes all of them very loud, though. It can be unbearable.” You let a small laugh escape your lips. You supposed that it would be entertaining. If you could deal with them, at least.

“Sounds… Interesting,” You fished around for the right word to describe it, offering up a small smile. He glanced to the side, rubbing at his neck as silence lapsed over the two of you again. This happened a lot, didn’t it? Hopefully it got better with time.

Next Chapter | >

#dream #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream team #dream x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois family #kingdom au #reader insert #t&t

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Perfect Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 完美之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

More from this collection: Gavin l Kiro

[ Released in CN on 24 Dec 2020 ]

MC: Ha--ahh--

During the fourth hour of the meeting, I finally can’t help myself and release a long yawn.

Before my mouth can shut in time, I meet the eyes of Victor, who is sitting in the middle of the long table.

Victor: ...

Victor: That’s all for today’s meeting.

Everyone in the meeting room releases sighs of relief, leaving the room in groups.

When we’re the only two people left in the meeting room, Victor lifts his head and sends me a straight look. Understanding it, I hurriedly head over to receive a lesson.

Victor: Were you working overnight on a program again?

MC: I promised to give it to you today. So of course I had to spend the night finishing it!

Victor: I remember saying that it wouldn’t be late even if you gave it to me tomorrow.

But it’s Christmas tomorrow... I say this inwardly while pretending to look humble, nodding my head repeatedly.

Victor: Don’t do what you can’t accomplish.

MC: Yes yes yes, CEO’s criticisms are correct. Now, could I give you my report on...

Just as I’m prepared to verify the itinerary for tomorrow, an employee returns and interrupts.

Employee: CEO Victor, there’s a small issue regarding the program you mentioned during the meeting earlier...

Victor signals with his gaze that I should wait at the side for a while. I keep the schedule that I had taken a long time to prepare.

With nothing to do, I stare out the window. The setting sun is hanging low along the horizon, and the streetlights lining the roads have started lighting up in succession.

Mainly red and green coloured lights entwine around the trees flanking the roads, and lights in the shape of stars and snowflakes embellish the open land around the city.

MC: It’s Christmas tomorrow...

Ever since we spent a rather hurried Christmas the previous time due to work, I’ve been looking forward to the arrival of the subsequent Christmas.

Despite knowing that Victor doesn’t care about such festivals, I hope we can leave a perfect and ordinary Christmas in our memories.

Which is why since a week ago, I’ve “bribed” Goldman, troubling him to help keep Victor’s time on Christmas free.

Victor: Why are you in a daze?

Returning to my senses, I realise that Victor has already finished his discussion, and has his arms folded over his chest while looking at me.

I once again open the schedule book Goldman left me, pointing at the line which reads “Spend Christmas together with MC”.

MC: Cough cough. CEO Victor, Goldman has requested that I remind you about tomorrow’s schedule.

He sweeps a glance at the notebook, his expression blank as he turns to grab his coat off the back of the chair. After taking a few steps towards the door of the meeting room, he turns his head towards me with a frown.

Victor: Do you have plans tonight?

I shake my head in confusion, not comprehending why he’d ask such a question.

Victor: So why are you still in a silly daze? Don’t Christmas celebrations start from Christmas Eve?

By the time we leave the shopping mall carrying heavy Christmas supplies, the open square next to it is already filled with crowds here to visit the Christmas market.

Our car ambles past the restless streets. I can’t help but roll down the window and take a deep breath. It’s as though the romantic ambience of Christmas is being swept along with the cold air.

Victor: Opening the window while smiling in a silly manner. Don’t weep and wail when you breathe in a stomach full of cold air.

The window of the car rolls up slowly. I pull a long face at the reflection of Victor in the glass.

Broadcast Host: ...it’s another year of Christmas. I trust that every citizen of Loveland City is looking forward to the arrival of this beautiful festival.

Broadcast Host: This Christmas, the Loveland Financial Group will be giving citizens of Loveland City a big Christmas gift at 12am!

Broadcast Host: ...if you have any Christmas wishes, you could participate in our program by typing “LFG’s Perfect Night” in our social media account.

The voice of the broadcast host seems especially excited within the enclosed vehicle.

This is a special Christmas broadcast by the Loveland City Government, sponsored by LFG.

When I received this news a week ago, I tried extricating information furtively from Victor, but his response of “no comment” left me without room for argument.

MC: Victor, you really can’t disclose a little bit on what LFG’s big Christmas gift is?

Victor: LFG is just the sponsor. I’m not privy to the contents of the program.

Victor lowers his head as he flips through a report, looking uninterested in my question.

MC: ...how is it possible that you didn’t check the quality of the program? You even correct the punctuation marks in my proposals.

He doesn’t express an opinion, arching his brows. Refusing to give up, I squeeze my face on top of the report, trying to fill his entire field of vision.

MC: In that case, what does a perfect Christmas look like to you?

Victor: Do you think that I’m idle enough to think about this question while tossing and turning at night?

Sensing the hidden meaning in his words, my ears flush. With an awkward and polite smile, I return to sit at my side.

Through the reflection in the window, I see that he has once again lifted up the report, and I can’t help but mutter softly.

MC: When someone asks you about your perfect Christmas, you should reciprocate and return the question...

Victor: Fireplace, Christmas feast, snow. A certain person has already posted her perfect Christmas on Moments twice.

MC: ...and you don’t know how to leave a ‘like’ even after seeing it.

Although my mouth is grumbling, the corners of my lips curl upwards involuntarily. I turn my gaze to the gloomy sky outside the window.

MC: It’s a shame that the weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow today...

Victor: Is snow that important?

MC: Of course! Just as how fried chicken is paired with beer, and how hamburgers are paired with Cola, Christmas must be paired with snow for it to be perfect.

Victor: At first glance, that does sound a little logical.

MC: It’s still very persuasive even if you give it a careful analysis! Also, everyone on Moments has been feeling regretful that there won’t be snow this Christmas...

Victor seems to be contemplative as he turns to look at the boundless night sky, the corners of his lips turning upwards with a small arc.

Pushing open the door to Victor’s house, a bundle of heat waves rushes towards me.

With a sudden thought, I rush into the living room. Just as expected, the fireplace, which is normally “on strike”, is currently lit with a few tiny flames.

As though I've been set alight by these flames, my heart also becomes warm.

As compared to doing something trivial such as leaving a “like” on Moments, he always fulfils my wishes in a more direct manner.

Pudding: Meow--

A ticklish sensation is at my calf. Lowering my head, I see that Pudding is rubbing the bottom of my trouser leg affectionately.

MC: Pudding, I’m wishing you a Merry Christmas too!

I carry it up, scratching it on the chin. All of a sudden, I start worrying.

MC: What if Pudding gets too close to the fireplace and gets hurt?

Victor walks past me, both hands full with ingredients.

Victor: Do you think Pudding is as stupid as you are?

Pudding: Meow meow meow!

Pudding seems to be responding in protest, struggling for a while before leaping out of my arms.

MC: ...let me help too!

I roll up my sleeves, planning to give Victor a hand.

Victor: If you want to eat soon, it’s better if you don’t cause trouble.

My whole-hearted enthusiasm is doused by his cold water. I stand numbly in place.

Victor: If you really want to help, you could decorate the place with the trinkets you bought.

MC: Okay!

Folding my hands across my chest in satisfaction, I admire my work--

The small bells and coloured lights on the Christmas tree complement each other perfectly. The French windows in the living room are decorated with mistletoe wreaths - simple yet in good taste.

Snowman-shaped Christmas candles are on the dining table and coffee table, and a charmingly adorable Santa Claus doll leans against the arm of the sofa.

Most importantly, the Christmas present I’m giving to Victor is hidden in a certain corner of the living room.

MC: Pudding, what do you think?

Pudding circles and rubs against the legs of my trousers, letting out rumbling sounds. I remove a bow from a branch of the Christmas tree, tying it gently onto its neck.

MC: This is a Christmas present for you.

Just as I plan to call Victor over to check the fruits of my labour, a rich fragrance of cake drifts from the kitchen.

Without prior agreement, Pudding and I follow the fragrance and head towards the kitchen. Craning my head at the doorway to take a look inside, I find Victor half-squatting in front of the oven, looking very focused.

He’s resting a hand casually on the marble kitchen counter, his slender fingers tapping on the surface rhythmically.

Ding-- Just like a magical sound, an even stronger fragrance assails the nostrils the moment the oven stops operating.

And this baking magician methodically “creates” a pair of brightly-coloured red mittens - the pair that I had pestered him to include in the shopping bag.

Despite how distasteful he felt towards the mittens in the mall, Victor still wears them as he pulls the baking tray out, carefully checking the colour and lustre of the cake.

MC: Pfft--

I can’t help but laugh aloud, and Victor immediately turns towards the sound.

Although he's been working in the kitchen for an hour, there isn’t a single oil stain on him. Not a single crease can be found on his shirt either.

Even the stray hairs on his forehead remain as tidy as ever, falling naturally in front of his eyes.

It’s just that pairing the stern, cold appearance of Victor together with this pair of overly jubilant mittens seems a little out of place.

Pudding has long since given up resisting. It walks forward, pacing frantically in the vicinity of the oven.

Victor: Wipe the corners of your lips. Your drool is about to flow to the ground.

I subconsciously rub my mouth with my sleeve, but find that my the corners of my lips are dry.

MC: Liar... there’s no drool.

Amused, he taps Pudding’s head with the mitten.

Victor: I was referring to this greedy cat. Who asked you to take it as a personal attack?

Before I can salvage my pride, Pudding starts meowing, trying to tell Victor about my “crime”--

It shakes its neck. With a tactical retreat, it struggles free from the bow I gave it.

MC: I put it on so it could celebrate Christmas too. But the bow’s probably too heavy, so it doesn’t like it...

Victor stands up, then cuts a thin ribbon from the bag of ingredients on the counter. He bends down and ties it onto Pudding.

MC: That’s right, why didn’t I think of using...

Before I can finish my words, I watch as Victor picks up the bow that Pudding rejected, stretching out his arms and encircling me gently.

His upper body leans slightly on my side, and I feel his steady breaths on the crook of my neck.

MC: ...Victor?

Victor: Don’t move.

My body tenses up, and I don’t move an inch. The fragrance of cake from his arms encases me, and my heart rate involuntarily quickens.

A faint rustling sound drifts from behind me, followed by a weight on my ponytail.

Victor: Done.

I reach out to touch the ponytail on my head, discovering an additional bow on it.

Victor: This way, both greedy cats have bows.

...Victor actually does such childish things too. Could this be what they call “loving the house and its crow”?

[Note] MC is making reference to an idioms, 爱屋及乌 (“ai wu ji wu”), which conveys how if you love a person, the love extends to even the crows on their roof. It means you love everything about something or somebody.

Of course, I lack the boldness to make such a thick-skinned comment. I simply keep touching the bow on my ponytail happily.

MC: Pretty?

Victor: Pretty. Just that you smile like a dummy. If you continue smiling like a fool, your Christmas feast will get cold.

[Note] I’M SCREAMING. MC is clearly asking about the ribbon, but her question is written in such a way that it’s ambiguous as to what she’s referring to. SO VICTOR SAYS SHE’S THE PRETTY ONE UIHRGEJKDV

The facts reveal that Victor underestimated my ability to eat.

Without giving the feast a chance to grow cold, I tuck into the meal while it’s still piping and fragrant. On the other hand, Victor doesn’t eat much.

MC: So full...

I look into the distance while holding my belly, leaning against the chair and sighing with emotion.

Victor: Why are you eating so quickly? No one’s snatching it from you.

MC: I couldn’t control myself since it was too fragrant...

Victor: In that case, what do you plan to do with this cake?

He points at the perfectly flawless cake at the far corner of the table. The tone he uses to ask this question is reminiscent of a CEO who is pressuring his employee to work overtime.

MC: I was too focused on eating the feast earlier and forgot there was still cake... But since girls have an extra tummy for dessert, I can do it!

While saying this, I’m reach for the cake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victor furrowing his brows.

Victor: Don’t force yourself if you’re full. The cake can be eaten later.

I retract my hands in embarrassment, then puff out my chest and clear my throat.

MC: Victor, in order to thank you for fulfilling my perfect Christmas, I’ve hidden a present for you in the living room. Search for it!

Victor’s gaze falls on the colourful decorations in the living room.

Victor: The present you’re referring to - is it how you didn’t make a mess out of the living room?

MC: ...of course not! Also, I put in a lot of effort while decorating, so of course I wouldn't make a mess out of the living room!

Seeing my flustered and exasperated state, Victor chuckles softly.

He stands up, walks to the Christmas tree, bending down to pick up a conspicuous box.

Victor: In that case, it’d be this box.

MC: ?!

MC: When did it get there? I distinctly remember hiding it.

Victor: When you were gorging yourself with food, Pudding carried it in its mouth and walked around in the living room for a long time.

MC: ...Pudding!!

Pudding: Meow--

The chief culprit licks its paw elegantly on the sofa, without feeling apologetic at all.

Victor sits down on the floor next to the Christmas tree, unwrapping the packaging of the box in an unhurried manner. I shift over to his side, filled with anticipation as I observe his expression--

Victor: ...

Victor: Are your designs too novel, or are your skills so poor that they have reached this level?

I lower my head to take a look. The painstakingly arranged handmade biscuits have gotten mixed with the shredded paper meant to be used as a cushion. Even I can’t tell how they looked like originally.

It’s all Pudding’s fault!

MC: H-hold on!

I snatch the box in a fluster, performing a “surgery” to separate the biscuits from the shredded paper. Victor purses his lips, revealing a faint smile.

MC: Done!

I once again present the box of handmade biscuits to him--

A Victor dressed in a Santa Claus outfit, a gingerbread-shaped me, and a few ordinarily-shaped biscuits meant as embellishments.

MC: How are they? I made them myself.

He reaches out to take the gingerbread biscuit, then holds it in front of my face.

Victor: Silly-looking - very similar to you.

Even though his assessment isn’t that nice to hear, the tender gleam in his eyes disclose his good mood.

MC: ...on account of the Christmas feast, I won’t bicker about this with you.

I hold up an ordinarily-shaped biscuit.

MC: Want to give it a try?

Before Victor can express an opinion, Pudding scurries out, grabbing the biscuit in my hand with its mouth.

MC: Pudding!

Just as I try it to release the biscuit from its mouth, Pudding nimbly leaps onto Victor’s shoulder.

As though knowing that it has found a strong and powerful backing, it turns around unhurriedly, looking at me provocatively.

MC: Pudding, spit it out quickly. Cats can’t eat milk biscuits!

Victor observes the farce before him in slight interest, seemingly unperturbed by Pudding’s claws creasing his clothes, keeping himself out of the matter.

Pudding goes one step further to flaunt, affectionately rubbing the side of Victor’s face, seeking his protection.

Pudding: Meow--

Victor: I don’t participate in cat fights.

Seeming to realise the reality that "God helps those who help themselves”, it turns around, leaping towards the sofa. I hastily chase after it.

The heavy curtains of a majestic human-cat chasing war are pulled open.

Pudding excitedly hops atop the sofa repeatedly for a while before turning to the dining table.

After numerous failed attempts of chasing it around, I change my tactics. Pretending to pass by Pudding unhurriedly, I suddenly pounce--

Pudding didn’t expect that I’d have such a card up my sleeve. It instinctively leaps into the air, finally planting itself squarely into the cake.

MC: ...

Victor: ...

I stand frozen in place, sensing two searing eyes at my back that seem to dig two holes into the back of my head.

MC: Erm... Victor... didn’t you keep the cake away...

After a period of silence from behind me, I’m at a loss on whether I should turn around to see Victor’s expression. All of a sudden, something flicks the back of my head.

Victor: Time for a bath, King of Causing Trouble.

He picks Pudding up with a hand, then walks to the bathroom with heavy steps.

...as expected, this Christmas can’t be spent perfectly just like before.

Although that's what I originally think, seeing Pudding lying in the wash basin with its eyes wide and with a piteous appearance makes me happy once again.

MC: Hahaha, Little Kitten, you have your day too~

Beside me, Victor’s movements are adept as he rubs the fur of the cat. Meanwhile, I playfully stack foam bubbles atop Pudding’s head.

MC: Look! A poop hairstyle!

Pudding obviously feels indignant, meowing complaints at Victor. Victor gives it comforting rubs on the belly.

Victor: Don’t fuss over things with a dummy.

I purse my lips in dissatisfaction. As though I‘ve lost all reason, I lift up a heap of foam bubbles and rub it onto Victor’s cheek.

MC: Santa Claus!

Victor pauses in his actions, lowering his head and arching his eyebrows while looking at me.

Victor: Do you find this very interesting?

Reason returns to me, and I’m just about to reach out to wipe the foam bubbles away when he suddenly leans his face over, rubbing the foam bubbles onto my face.

Victor: Mrs Claus.

An hour later, Victor and I finally put an end to this chaotic cat washing battle.

We are all taking a short break on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The wood in the fireplace crackles from time to time, and the warm yellow light from the fire casts our faces in occasional brightness and darkness.

The sweet and refreshing scent of Pudding after its bath diffuses in the surroundings. The song “All you need is love” is playing from the broadcast, resonating in the living room.

Feeling drowsy, I’m using Victor’s lap as a pillow. Occasionally, he uses a hand to comb through my hair.

MC: Victor...

MC: Which movie is this song featured in? It sounds so familiar...

Victor: “Love Actually”. I remember someone mentioning liking that show. Looks like it was just a superficial fondness?

I turn, hugging Victor’s arm tightly before drifting entirely to sleep.

How nice, Victor still remembers that I like this movie.

MC: If it were to snow this Christmas, it’d truly be perfect...

I mutter to myself, descending completely into dreamland.

Not knowing how long I've slept, I suddenly feel a weight on my face. Opening my eyes, I realise that half of Pudding’s body is sitting on my face.

With a dark expression, I carry it away. When I sit up, I discover that a blanket has been draped over me, but Victor isn’t by my side.

The sliding door to the balcony, which was originally shut tight, is now pulled open halfway, and the curtains are drifting slightly.

Stepping closer to it, I find Victor standing at the outdoor balcony, lifting his head and thinking about something.

MC: Are you waiting for Santa Claus?

He turns around at the sound of the voice. Seeing the thin knitted shirt I'm wearing, he frowns.

Victor: Why did you come out without wearing a jacket?

I squeeze myself into his woollen coat, lifting my head and giving him a grin.

MC: I won’t be cold like this!

Victor: The turtledove occupies the magpie’s nest.

[Note] Victor’s use of the idiom, 鸠占鹊巢 (“jiu zhan que chao”), conveys the idea of seizing the territory of someone else.

Despite what he says, he tightens his grip around me slightly.

MC: Why did you come to the balcony? Aren’t you cold?

Victor: A dummy kept talking in her sleep, so I came out to get some peace and quiet.

MC: ...what did I say in my dream?

Victor: Wanting to have a snowball fight at one point, then wanting to build a snowman at another. Not even a moment of idleness the entire night.

I suddenly recall that I did have a dream, and there seemed to be something snow-related in it.

MC: What one thinks about in the daytime will be dreamt about at night... but...

I stick my face close to his chest, hearing the steady and powerful heartbeats drifting from it.

MC: Even if there isn’t snow this Christmas, I’m already very very contented. After all, I had a Christmas feast, baked next to a warm oven, and even saw Santa Claus!

I lift my head, deliberately giving him a teasing glance. He chuckles lightly.

Victor: And Mrs Claus.

That scene from the bathroom earlier is vivid in my mind. Embarrassed, I bury my face in his chest.

MC: Most importantly, I’m spending this Christmas with you. In my heart, this is the perfect Christmas.

My head remains buried in his chest, anticipating VIctor’s response. However, I suddenly feel something cold dripping on the roof of my head.

MC: ?!

I lift my head violently.

MC: Victor, are you crying...

It’s snowing.

The moment I lift my head, I see the entire sky filled with drifting snowflakes.

It’s actually snowing!

The sparkling, jade-like crystals rustle and land on Victor’s eyelashes, and very quickly turn into transparent water droplets.

I reach out to rub at his eyes gently, a moist and cold sensation on my fingertips.

MC: Victor! It’s snowing!

I happily unfurl my hands to welcome the snowflakes, showing them to Victor excitedly. However, I realise that his expression, which wears a slight smile as he looks at me, is not at all astonished by this unexpected snow.

Victor: Mm, it’s snowing.

An answer faintly surfaces in my heart. Before I can open to my mouth to probe further, the host’s voice from the broadcast drifts vaguely from the living room.

Broadcast Host: LFG... big Christmas gift... artificial snowfall...

Just as expected!

It turns out that this snowfall was LFG’s Christmas surprise to the citizens of Loveland City. No wonder Victor looked like he was waiting for something on the balcony earlier...

I deliberately fold my arms across my chest, tilting my chin angrily.

MC: A certain CEO even pretended not to know anything about it...

Victor: I thought surprises meant that they wouldn’t be disclosed until the last second. Or does a certain dummy have an issue with this surprise?

Seeing him arching his brows, I immediately correct my posture obediently.

MC: No, no! On behalf of the citizens of Loveland City, I sincerely thank CEO Victor for the surprise!

He laughs in spite of himself, lowering his head and meeting my forehead.

Victor: Now, you can say that this is a perfect Christmas.

I hide in his arms as I look up at the sky. The snowfall is getting increasingly heavier.

Even though I'm just wearing a thin woollen shirt, I don’t feel cold at all in his arms.

It’s probably because the person before me has shielded me from all the piercing wind and snow, keeping them out of my world.

MC: Come to think of it, do you really not have a perfect Christmas in your heart?

He once again tightens his grip on me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

Victor is silent for a very, very long time. It’s so long that I can hear the rustling sound of snowfall.

Victor: This moment right now. It’s perfect.

Phone calls: here

Texts: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #mlqc best boy pudding #pUDDING I LOVE YOU #VICTOR'S A+ COMMENTS #AHUIEFDJNKS #A+ DATE

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Until after the war

Reiner Braun x Gender neutral!reader

Requested by anon “Growing up in the Warrior program and being immediately deployed to Paradis ... give me Reiner having never been kissed! For all his jokes in the 104th, he’s actually never had the time or chance to experience any level of romantic intimacy before his return to Marley (gender neutral or male partner preferred please).”

A/N-sorry for such a late post everyone!! Hope you all like it!!

Warning- Fluff

———-

Perhaps it had been the fast and chaotic daze of playing his role and keeping undercover, or the fact that he was fighting in a war, but Reiner had never experienced any sort of romantic intimacy. Sure he had crushes on people, he liked to joke about all that, but he’s never got to experience it himself.

It was lame to admit, especially now that those friends from Marley he hadn’t seen in years have experienced many things he’s been left out of. It made him want to try and finally get to experience a little bit of it, but that’s where he bumped into a problem. He didn’t have anyone.

He could think of someone, but he didn’t think they returned his affection.

“Reiner!!” You yell out at him with a smile slowly growing on your face.

Said man turns around to face you, stopping in his tracks to wait for you to reach him.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet, “what are you doing walking all alone?”

Reiner shrugs and begins walking again with you by his side. “I had a day off, I thought I’d see what’s changed.”

“Hmm,” you hum, whilst you let your own eyes wander your town that to you remained as bland as ever. “Well not much has changed since well we’re still “devils.”

“You changed,” Reiner points out, making you smile wider and feel flustered.

“Well,” you sigh, “we were twelve the last time we saw each other.” You put your hands in your coat pockets and turn to look at him, not being able to get over the fact how much he had changed physically, personality wise he seemed the same, he wasn’t as hot headed as Porco, or energetic as some of your other friends, he was still sweet and funny when he made the right jokes. But he was a bit more serious though, and a lot more quieter, he always seemed to be lost in thought. And you didn’t need to ask what brought his change. It was obvious without anyone having to ask.

Which is why you never brought up what happened in his years on the Island. You always liked to keep the topic you were talking about on something else completely.

“Reiner, some of my friends are having a small get together before we get deployed,” you inform him, “Porco is going to be there. You should come.”

“Oh,” he mouths as he looks at you and stops at the bank of the lake. “Uh, thank you, but I think I’ll pass. I’m not in the mood for parties, plus I don’t think Porco will like it if I went.”

You scoff, “well it’s not up to him is it...but hey I won’t force you to go, but,” you pause and sit down on the grass, seeing Reiner fall beside you. “It seems that we’re going to have to find something to do.” You look at the blue glimmering lake and let out a relieved sigh. “Some nice picnic later or something?”

“Uhh,” Reiner breathes out with a blush on his cheeks. “No, no it’s okay, you can go.”

You tilt your head to the side and look at him with a half smile. “It's okay, I want to hangout with you. So what’s it going to be?”

“Well,” Reiner stammers, “uh,” he scratches the back of his head and averts his gaze to answer much clearer. “Yeah sounds good.”

You offer him a grin and drag your knee to your chest, staying in silence for a moment before you smirk and muster up the courage to ask, “so back over on that Island, you have a partner?”

Reiner shakes his head and you miss the way he gets flustered, he shakes his head and answers verbally. “Pfft, no. Do you,” he looks at you to ask, “do you have someone here?”

“No,” you scoff, “nah no one here was interesting enough.”

“Was?”

You smirk wider and hit his shoulder with yours. “I’ll only say this because we're going to be deployed soon, but,” you scratch your head and sigh nervously. “I always liked you.”

“What?” He queried. “You?”

A warm heat grows on your cheeks and you nod slowly. “Yeah. You left so I never got to tell you, but I did, I mean, I do.” You end with a whisper, turning to look at the lake ahead. “You don’t have to answer or anything. I just needed to say it before we left.”

Reiner stays speechless for a moment and his eyes remain on you for a moment while his mind turns with what to say, and what he heard. He took his time, but he slid his hand to yours, only grazing your finger tips before he pulled his hand away and added, “why?”

“Because you were always kind, you were funny...sometimes…you never gave up and well,” you mutter, “I always found you cute.” Once against you meet his gaze and the warmth that had crawled on your cheeks only gets hotter.

Reiner keeps looking at you, but his gaze is unfocused, his lips are parted and his eyebrows are risen. His lips twitch and as you think he’s going to frown, he smiles faintly. “I feel like I have a lot to say, but you know I’ll wait until we see each other after the war. But for now I’ll tell you that I like you too.”

You smile brightly and share a lingering gaze before you drop your eyes to his lips and lean in for a small and quick kiss that made him freeze. When you try to pull away he grabs your cheeks to pull you in for one more lingering kiss.

“Until after then,” you whisper to his lips.

It was silly to admit, but Reiner was glad that he shared some sort of romantic intimacy with someone before going off to fight. No matter if it wasn’t an epic moment, he was happy he got to experience something as small as a kiss.

#attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan imagine #aot #reiner braun #reiner braun imagines #reiner braun fanfiction #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun x reader #reiner imagine #aot Reiner

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myouki · 3 years

Text

Creature Comforts (One-shot)

Chapter Warnings:

Nightmares, death mention

Credits:

Goth: @nekophy

Palette Roller: @angeutblogo

***

Goth laughed as Palette accidentally smudged chocolate ice cream on his nasal ridge, trying in vain to lick it off and sneezing as it dripped into his nasal cavity, then finally using his scarf to wipe it off before it got on the new plush bear he bought.

Why did this feel familiar, and why did it feel as if he was moving on autopilot?

"Goth? You're really quiet... well, more quiet than usual," Palette craned forward as he walked, watching his friend curiously as they stopped at the crosswalk.

"Sorry," the smaller apologized, lightly holding up his ice cream, "Brain freeze."

A faint screech went off in the distance as Palette laughed, "Well, don't eat it so fast, silly!"

Wait... he had heard this before... he had to stop.

Palette stepped off the curb despite himself; a bright red sports car tore around the corner, but his body refused to react to the panic coursing through him and continued across the road.

No... he remembered this... he didn't want this!

He turned to the vehicle speeding toward him as something else darted into the road out of the corner of his socket; he wanted to run, scream, do something... but he just stood there like a literal deer in the headlights.

Please, not again!

Palette felt something slam into him; his body twisted around to see Goth. The monster wore a smile despite the tears overflowing from his sockets... despite knowing what was about to happen as he stumbled back from the force of the push, directly into the car's path and mere inches away from a fatal collision.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

Palette jolted awake, slapping his hand over his mouth; an effort to stifle his scream while also resisting the overwhelming urge to be sick in remembrance of the events following the impact. He clenched his sockets shut, curling up in a ball as he choked on his sobs with tears streaking down his face and onto his pillow. All was quiet in the house as he laid on his side, crying his sockets out... except for the mewling ball of fur pushing against his skull. His sockets popped open to the pale blue and white eyes of his best friend shining in the dim moonlight; their owner was butting their head against him to get his attention.

Palette reached a hand out to stroke Goth along his back. "Mrrp?" the feline chirped in reply, redirecting his attention to the hand petting him.

"Sorry I woke you," the skeleton softly hiccupped, attempting a smile, "I'm okay now; I just had a bad dream." Goth became focused on headbutting his hand and arm, flopping over against him after losing balance before getting up to repeat the process as Palette slowly calmed down from the nightmare.

He knew reassurances and apologies were a useless endeavor, but the cat in front of him still held the soul of his best friend. Even if he looked silly or crazy, talking with Goth was normal for him and he couldn't deny there were instances where it felt as if his companion could actually understand him.

Seemingly satisfied with the attention, Goth rounded the pillow and disappeared from view to find a new spot to settle down in as Palette listened for any other noises in the house. Taking in the silence, he concluded that his mom was still asleep. Sitting up, he checked his phone; he had some time left, so he could get another three or four hours of sleep in before it was time to get up.

… Unfortunately, knowing he should go to sleep and doing so were two completely different matters. Closing his sockets and trying to empty his skull did nothing to quell the remnant feelings of guilt. Even though everyone had assured him nothing could have been done to prevent a soul from being taken that day, he still couldn't help feeling responsible... he should have done something, anything to-

A slight weight pressed against the back of his legs. Shifting his skull, he noticed two pointed white ears peeking over the edge of his sheets; he didn't think much of it since his companion would occasionally curl up in the crook of his legs and laid his skull back on the pillow... only to realize Goth was doing something different tonight.

Goth had climbed up and draped himself over the side of Palette's leg, stretching his forelimbs out ahead of him to dangle in midair. Once settled, he rested his chin upon the skeleton's leg, closed his eyes, and began purring loudly.

Unable to help himself, Palette snorted as he reached out to scratch behind the feline's ear, "What are you doing?" His companion flexed their paws in response, opening their eyes slightly before letting them fall shut again. A smile worked its way onto his face as he laid his skull back on the pillow, continuing to stroke his hand along Goth's back as he murmured, "You're so silly." As the gentle rumbling sound and soothing vibrations against his leg slowly but surely lulled him into quiet contentment, a yawn broke free and his sockets fluttered shut as he murmured, "Thanks..."

---

Palette woke to a rough tongue against his cheek; opening his sockets, Goth's furry face encompassed his vision. Seeing he was now awake, the cat flopped into his face while purring. "Pfft, good morning to you too," the sleepy skeleton grabbed his friend and sat up, setting them on his lap while picking out the loose cat hairs that had found their way into his mouth and retrieving his phone... which said his alarm would go off in five minutes.

Toggling the alarm off, Palette hummed, "Not sure why I still set my alarm when you manage to get me up before it goes off every time." Goth responded by climbing up his nightshirt and flopping against his chest; the skeleton chuckled, petting the cat as they stretched languidly before curling into a ball to slide back into his lap.

Another ten minutes went by with Palette showering Goth in attention before mild hunger pangs prompted him to set the feline aside and leave the warm comfort of his sheets. Raising his arms for a morning stretch, his companion began weaving around his legs. He reached down to stroke them from head to tail once more before exiting the room with his friend trotting alongside him.

Chuckling at Goth stopping at the bottom of the stairs to make sure Palette was still following, he entered the kitchen to find his mom scrambling some eggs. "How are my boy and his shadow doing today?" Dream asked, scraping the spatula against the pan.

"We're good," Palette picked up Goth's food bowl and scooped some kibble into it; retrieving a can of wet food and mixing a spoonful into the bowl, he admitted, "... I had a nightmare this morning."

Dream turned toward him with concern in his features, "I thought I felt something; was it the car one again?"

"Yeah," Palette answered shortly, willing the mental images to not resurface again. Goth's meowing managed to distract him as he set the bowl down on the floor; he pet them as they ate, smiling as their back end lifted into each stroke, "Goth helped me get back to sleep, though." He went on to describe his friend's behavior earlier that morning, only pausing when the older skeleton laughed. Looking up in confusion, he asked, "Why are you laughing?"

"Because Goth was comforting you," Dream explained, turning off the burner, scooping the eggs onto two plates already holding toast slices, and handing one off to Palette, "Cats can purr at frequencies that promote healing in themselves and others."

Palette sat down at the table, his eye lights glancing over at the feline cleaning their face next to him "Wow, really? How does that even work?"

"No one's quite sure; some think the vibrations exert pressure on the bones and muscles while others think it has to do with releasing endorphins," Dream replied, taking a sip from their mug, "it's also possible he was expressing distress at your distress, but judging from what you described, it sounds like he sensed you were in pain and did what he could to help you feel better."

Goth chose that moment to jump into Palette's lap, curling up into a ball and rolling onto their back for a post-breakfast nap. Letting his fork rest against his plate, he rubbed his finger under their chin; the action earned a rumbling purr as the cat craned their head back to give him better access. Noting the frayed appearance of their red collar, an idea came to mind, "You know, Goth's collar's looking a little worn out; you think I should get him a new one?"

"He has had the same one since he started living with us two years ago," Dream commented, "he's grown too, so he could probably use a bigger one as well." Palette slipped two fingers under the band; it did feel a little tight. The older skeleton hummed, and he looked up to find their gaze on the window, "The weather's nice today... I think he would enjoy a trip to the store."

Pleased with the idea, Palette quickly scarfed down the rest of his meal, deposited his dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and dashed up the stairs for his clothes and Goth's harness; his friend bounded up after him, seemingly sensing his excitement as he pulled some clothing from his dresser. Grabbing the red harness, his companion jumped onto the bed in anticipation of an outing.

Palette chuckled as he fitted the red straps around the Goth's chest, testing to make sure they were snug without being too tight before clipping on the leash and looping it around his wrist, setting the feline in their favored spot on his shoulder, and heading out the door with a shout to his mom that he would be back later.

As his companion got comfortable, draping along his shoulders and curling their tail into his scarf, Palette's thoughts wandered over the past two years. Things might not have turned out exactly the way he wanted, but he could still appreciate the second chance he was given regardless... and even if their time together couldn't last forever, if Goth spent every day just as happy and loved as he felt, then it would all be worth it in the end.

#Poth #Goth #Cat!Goth #Palette Roller #CC #One-shot #Reincarnation AU #MyWriting #MyArt #TW: Nightmares #TW: Death mention

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greenygreenland · 4 years

Text

Slang: Father Garmadon & Reader

-saw a post about what if Garm spoke Gen Z slang and I got so inspired I just had to get out of my funk and write

-kinda a crack-ish one-shot??? [also UNEDITED so sorry if some things seem off/awkward]

-i may be gen z, but that doesn't mean I use slang much. I'm a bit old-fashioned, so I had to briefly look up a guide for help lol

Summary:

Someone (Kai or Jay) decided it would be fun to teach your dad Gen Z slang. Now you're stuck dealing with the aftermath.

"Dad--"

"I was bouta throw hands."

"Dad--"

"And so, I asked her to spill the tea, but (Y/n) refused to. I deadass thought she'd get heated over it."

He didn't seem to hear you calling him from across the courtyard, nor did he show any sign of actually paying attention to your presence. Overhearing him gossip like a high school girl to Jay made you send Lloyd a look of confusion.

He knitted his brows and made a face at your father. "What's wrong with him?" You shook your head with a sigh. "I think he's trying to be cool."

"Uh, cool?" inquired Lloyd. You absentmindedly shrugged and made your way over to Garmadon. "Dad, are you busy?" He turned to face you with a warm smile. "Ah, I haven't seen you since this morning." he noted. You blinked, sending Jay an odd glance. "I think that wss because you..."

"Were flexing on my dear brother? I have to say, I've got better drip than him."

Your jaw dropped and Jay let out a laugh that echoed throughout all sixteen realms. "Dad." you said. "No, no. Please don't speak like that." There was a hint of pleading in your voice because, well, hearing a hundred-something year old man speak like a person your age didn't exactly feel right.

In fact, you were sure it caused a disturbance in the force.

As if reading your mind, your father said, "You're capping. My vocabulary is fire."

"Pfft--!" You glanced over your shoulder at Lloyd. He had a hand over his mouth, and as soon as he caught the gaze of Garmadon, he burst into a fit of laughter. Your father suddenly smirked, but when you narrowed your gaze on him, it was gone. Jay made his way over to you and clapped a hand on your back. "Isn't this great? Your dad sounds like us!"

You rolled your eyes. "No, he sounds like you Jay." Jay pulled you close to his side and gave you a good shake. "Oh come on, let him have his fun! He's highkey enjoying this." You gave him a pointed look that made him let out one of his weird laughs.

"Jay's right." your father cut in. "This is sending me."

Never had you wanted to dig your own grave and take an early rest in your own coffin.

---

By noon, your father was still going strong with the slang. He used it like his life depended on, and your friends, oh what traitors, liked it. They actually enjoyed seeing your father as a loose, trendy guy who instead of scolded people, walked around saying silly things like, "Alright boys, let's get this bread! We gucci?"

Your Uncle Wu, on the other hand, didn't quite understand what was happening. He questioned your dad about it, then you, but you shrugged it off with an embarrassed shake of your head. "He's...in a funk." you had said.

"A 'funk', you say?"

---

"I am so woke."

You rolled your eyes.

"Yassssssss!" Garmadon glanced at you, as if he liked to watch the distaste growing on your face. "You're on point--oh, nope. That was a big yikes."

At this point, he was just doing it to annoy you, wasn't he?

---

"Yeet that punching bag, son!"

---

"I'm so done with the weather today."

---

"Shook!"

---

"Sick!"

---

"Highkey!"

---

"Lowkey!"

---

"Bro, you just gotta dab on the haters."

---

The slang was getting on your nerves, and you weren't sure how much more you could take. Just how long until he stopped this madness and acted like his regular self?

At dinner time, you decided enough was enough. This was getting out of hand, especially since your friends and brother joined in on the 'fun'. "Okay dad and family," you heaved in a deep breath to centre yourself. "Would you quit the whole slang act? There's got to be a reason as to why you're...you know..." You made a motion with your hand and trailed off.

An awkward silence followed, but it trighered an odd reaction of smirks amoung your dad and familh. "She did better than I thought." he remarked.

"Better than what?" you snapped. Zane smiled and held out a hand in front of the boys. "It seems I'm the winner."

Lloyd sassily rolled his eyes, mind him, completely ignoring your question. "Zane always wins bets." Cole grumpily handed Zane a few coins. "That's because he's a nindroid. Whose idea was it to even place bets with him?" Jay shuffled around in his pockets, sending Kai a glare. "Who else? Because of you, I'm losing all of this week's allowance to Zane!"

"Hey, don't look at me! It was Garmadon's idea from the start."

"Oh come on Kai," scolded Nya, "why'd you have to give it away?"

Your gaze zeroed on the man only a few seats across the table. He sheepishly smiled, raising his hands in defense. "I was testing your patience, alright? Your friends said you've been having a problem with patience as of late, so I may or may not have been curious to see the extent of it."

You let out a long, tired sigh. "And you all were in on it?" There was a group of mumbled 'yes's' from everyone but Wu. He merely watched the exchange with a look of interest and awed confusion.

"First Spinjitzu Master," you grumbled, "why are you all like this?"

#ninjago lloyd #ninjago kai #ninjago masters of spinjitzu #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #ninjago x reader #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago jay

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tempesrature · 4 years

Text

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”

Pairing: Ride or Die | Colt x Ellie Summary: A highlight reel of the most important moments of their life. A/N: Highly suggest reading this in order (all even numbers for Colt). @lovehugsandcandy @dancingboba

#10 Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

Colt stomps up the stairs to their bedroom with a scowl. His eyebrows set in a furrow and his eyes glaring at nothing.

He is annoyed, tired and pissed.

Nothing seems to be going right today. His buyer for the new Genesis G90, that he was planning to meet up tonight, suddenly backed out. Then, some of the newer crew members have been fucking up most the tasks he’s given them which leaves him with no choice but to clean up after their mess.

He’s already exhausted the maximum capacity of his lungs from screaming at them and he knows that if he doesn’t give himself time to breathe, he’s going to develop a headache.

Colt yanks open the door, slams it shut with a bang, and immediately stomps towards the bed and lays down on the mattress with a groan as he massages the space between his eyebrows.

“Woah, cranky.”

Ellie’s voice cuts through the mess in his head and he sighs. Right, he forgot that she’s here now. Any other day, he would’ve loved her company. But right now, he isn’t in the right headspace. And when he’s not in the right headspace, he tends to say shit that he regrets.

“I’m not in the mood Ellie.”

Ellie opens her mouth, the witty reply already on the tip of her tongue, and she physically has to stop herself by covering her mouth with her hand. Sometimes she forgets herself when she’s around Colt, always pulled into their silly and loving banter they have, that she has to remind herself that there are days when he just needs her to shut the fuck up.

Like right now.

“You got it baby, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

She looks back to her phone, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch, as she continues scrolling through a list of potential companies in the area she’s going to apply to while on her one year break from Langston since she wants something to do. Plus, she really doesn’t like mooching off of Colt.

Most of the job postings fit her criteria—near-ish from the shop, great pay and will definitely not have any run-ins with Colt’s crew—and she saves them all to a Google Doc file so she can start adjusting her resumé once she gets her laptop back from the repair shop.

Ellie hears the springs of the mattress creak and she looks up just in time to see Colt walking towards her with a weary sigh. She grins as she drops her phone to the side and opens up her arms for him. He doesn’t even hesitate as he falls into her arms and tucks his head to the crook of her neck and breathes out a deep sigh.

“Thanks.”

“Mm,” Ellie hums as she runs her hand through his hair and lightly drags her nails through his scalp to calm him down. She can feel the tension around him dissipate slowly, his muscles relaxing as he tightens his hold around her waist, and Ellie can already sense that this is a great time to make him smile. “I’ve got a joke for you.”

Colt groans but Ellie can feel the slight smile on his lips forming against the skin of her neck. “I bet it’s going to be lame.”

“Listen, don’t be rude before you’ve heard it,” She admonishes and playfully grips his hair. He lets out a small chuckle and a slight nod for her to continue. “Okay. So the judge says, ‘you need to pay $120’ and the guy that’s obviously guilty says, ‘what for?’ and the judge says ‘it’s a fine’ and the guy who’s tearing up at this point says—pfft—he says ‘itsa not’!”

Ellie can’t even get through the last of the joke without laughing herself, her voice loud and boisterous in their bedroom. Colt groans but a smile tugs on his lips, the sound of her laughter lifting the weight sitting on his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” He says but he leaves a grateful and loving kiss on her neck.

“Yeah, but it was a good joke wasn’t it?”

Colt sighs, not wanting to give in but realizing that it isn’t about the joke at all. It’s the fact that she can make him smile even on the shittiest of days which is why Ellie is so invaluable to him. A cornerstone of his life that, if gone, he’d be utterly devastated.

“It’s decent.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at the absolute gall of him to lie to her. The joke is a ten-outta-ten.

But she places a kiss on top of his head nevertheless because she’s in love with the little liar.

“Rude.”

#choices rod #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #50 colt #my writing #i cant take credit for the joke #i read it off of reddit a long time ago #a screenshot of a tumblr post #i cant locate it anymore my bad

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munstarr · 4 years

Text

The Guardian

Hello everyone!! I just edited this again and decided to re upload because I wasn't happy with it originally and I wanted to write something id love, now I can say I am super happy with the outcome!! This will be a slow burn, eventually nsfw! Currently working on the next part! Id love and appreciate some feedback! Please feel free to DM me! Thank you so much for reading!!! ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

A little over eighty years ago Earth scientists sent out a signal into space in an attempt to make contact with other beings. In a surprising turn of events an alien alliance ship happened to be passing by, how had they missed earth before? Well the milky way was merely a skid mark compared to the rest of space. After months of back and forth between the alliance and Earth. Many planets had decided to make contact with earth with wonderful intentions and were more than willing to share their technological developments. In exchange most species requested to study human life and their history. After many trials and errors the Earth officially joined the planetary alliance. Together they worked out many systems and programs to mix species and learn from each other, Thus our current story begins!

Planet Yalnak was an unearthly forest filled planet with cool days and a deep purple sky. The program they had implemented was different from others in the Alliance. Humans could only sign up to live on Yalnak to be of service to the home species, the Nuks or to study a trade. Yalnak was one of the more stubborn planets who were hesitant, after learning of Earth’s hatred they were the last from the alliance to make contact. It wasn't until learning and witnessing of Human’s surprising endurance and loyalty that they joined and formed an earth acceptance program.

On Earth, Azura flipped through all the different planetary Alliance program brochures.She had been working as a hospitality and business specialist. Working towards her degree and getting to her dream job in less than three years time. After chasing her career goals she thought she would be happier. Another busy day of working had her coming home drained for what felt like the millionth time. She sure could use a change she thought. Sighing deeply she placed the brochures on the coffee table in front of her. ‘’Pfft’’ She blew a piece of coily raven hair out of her face, Maybe a hot bubble bath would ease her stress instead. Azura drew herself a relaxing milk bath, filling it with different oils; after setting out lots of candles she slipped into the hot soapy water. She sank into the tub closing her eyes, these were the only times she felt that she could truly relax. Her big bundle of raven curls spilled out of her clawfoot tub. Rubbing her rich mahogany body with her creamy bath butter, she whimpered. Her lathered up pink loofah traveled all over her , leaving a trail of bubbles all over her curvy body. It had been a long time since she’d had any sort of real pleasure. Not that she felt she wasn’t attractive, at twenty - four she was a small chocolate woman with a lean body and a bosomy frame ,or so she had thought. It had been a long while since she had been with anyone, let alone on an actual date. She sunk deeper into the warm bubbles as she roamed her body with the loofah, slowly caressing with the soft fabric. With closed fluttering eyes she imagined the type of person she fantasized to be with her. He was strong and tender as he gripped her throat tightly squeezing as he circled her clit with his strong roughened fingers. He caressed her hot button as her head fell back against his solid chest, nibbling her bottom lip as she let out a muffled moan. Azura imagined such a thing could happen to her. She’d gone through college as a studious maverick, putting her grades above all else. She was paying for it now she felt, getting nicely along in her career but feeling very lonely at times. She had been getting a degree in helping others have fun essentially, without ever really having any herself. Without even having any close family or even friends she was starting to feel more alone than ever. “UGH” she grumbled aloud, splashing her hand against the water and huffing in frustration. Now she couldn’t even relax with herself! Of course, only she could make herself sad in the middle of a fantasy. She pouted and decided to drain the bath and cut her losses. After drying off and oiling herself up for bed, she slipped on a satin red slip with a lace peekaboo. Another night of eating dinner alone to the sound of terrible reality tv, after two episodes of bad reality she clicked it off deciding it was time for bed. On her way out of the living room she decided to toss her brochures into the recycling, none of the programs were right for her anyway she thought. Huffing she tossed them into the bin. One dark colored brochure had fallen out, she hadn’t noticed it before. It said very plainly in black letters on the outside the word “YALNAK” . Azura had heard of this planet, it had accepted the least amount of humans into their program, only posting new ads when they had specific positions open. She picked it up reading the first and only page which had ads for tradesmen to study and helper companions. Azura thought being a helper could be interesting but didn’t want to waste her time being a glorified errand girl. Every ad was submitted by individuals of the planet it seemed. There was an entry that caught her eye and was offering triple the pay! The only downside was that she had to submit qualifications and pass an assessment, she’d never been great at taking tests she thought. The description was vague but seemed to offer interesting benefits and career opportunities. Her interest was piqued of course, so she decided to give in and opened her telepad to do the application, what's she got to lose? After uploading her resume and completing the exam online she uploaded both to her telepad. This could be a long shot but she was ready for a new adventure, besides being a helper companion couldn’t be so bad. She decided to send an introduction to the ad placer to tell them about herself and to say how she could be right for the job and how she was ready for a change, whatever it was. Maybe it sounded desperate? No, she shook off that silly anxious thought and hit submit. After sending she smiled to herself and decided to go to bed, excited about new possibilities. A few days later Azura decided to check the ad to see the status of the position , since she hadn’t heard anything back yet. Checking her telepad she frowned, it said in bold red letters “FULFILLED”. She was disappointed but she knew it was a gamble to begin with and probably not even worth her time. Shaking off her unexpected disappointment she went on a run to clear her mind and think about her future. Her big coily space buns bounced on top of her head as she ran, her rich skin shining in the sunlight. After a few times around the block she was tired and decided to walk the rest of the way home to enjoy the cool breeze. Approaching her apartment door she noticed her mail had been delivered. She had received a large metal box and a thick black envelope place on top. Taking the huge box into her house she carefully sat it on her coffee table. “What the hell..” she whispered to herself. She sliced open the letter and it read “ Congratulations Azura Elaine Emem from Earth, You have been chosen to be a helper companion for the honorable guardian Mirin”. She reread the letter in confusion, she was great at what she did but she wasn’t sure how she could be of any assistance to some honorable guardian! The letter continued “Please read the inclosed packets for further briefing on your new assignment”. Azura opened the box to find it contained brief information about the planet, it’s customs, and a request form for Earth foods she’d want while there, and last but not least a black square and a note. Azura picked up and inspected the intricate wax seal before carefully peeling it off and carefully unfolding the letter. In beautiful writing it stated simply ‘Dear Ms.Emem, I wanted to personally contact you because I am looking forward to working with you and want to set you up for success. Inside the black holding bonds I have included your uniform for the beginning days of training along with my crest, please wear this on your right side of your garment.’ With a short goodbye it concluded. Azura was stunned, she wanted a new life but wasn't expecting it to actually happen. She felt a new fire ignite inside of her, she was nervous for a new life but excited nonetheless. With a slurp of her melting iced coffee Azura smiled, wondering what sort of life she had signed herself up for.

#exophilia #my writing #munstarr #oc #slow burn #monster boyfriend #Intergalactic #Original Work #poc fic

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