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botchallthethings · 1 year

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Status of various clothing repair and alteration projects:

Sweater gusset project: 90% complete and fully wearable. Not marked fully complete because I may at some point go back over the line demarcating the original cuffs with black stitches to make it look intentional, and may at some point swap out the buttons for prettier ones. I may also line the neck with a softer woven fabric, as it can be scratchy on my skin if I’m not wearing a high-necked shirt underneath

Pullover to cardigan conversion: complete! I’m very satisfied with it and have gotten compliments on it already. I personally think that the cut lines are slightly stretched out and wavy and would do things a little differently next time, but they’re quite secured and stabilized now (sewn, rolled into a hem and sewn, then a grosgrain ribbon was sewn on). This really fits my style, and I like the three clasps at the bust that make it fit more like an empire-waisted garment than a normal button-up cardigan.

Funky-neckline dress bodice to bolero conversion: functionally completed but I’m not satisfied yet. I think I want to re-sew the bottom hook and eye (again!) so it pulls less. Also, that will necessitate re-sewing the button for visual balance (it was supposed to be functional but that was a pain and I gave up) Ugh, this just was not constructed in a way to fit me but it is pretty enough that I want to salvage it. I may rip out the princess seaming and do a bust reduction; alternatively, I might just get some cups and batting at the sewing store and pad it out so that it doesn’t cave in.

Faintly bleach-stained sweater: Fixed with sharpie, and you know what? I really like it a lot more! Funny how little tiny things can make something feel worn out and unlovely.

Grey undershirt with pinprick holes: mended (and wow there were so many of them! How is it that once you start mending, you find so many more holes??). Now I’d like to soak it in oxyclean because it’s yellowing in some areas. Despite the fact that nobody but me will ever see it, I’ll like it more if it’s well-cared for.

Old cowl-necked black shirt that I resented but also could not bring myself to throw away: mended and loved once more! I could not bear throwing it away, and once I secured some loose threads, fixed a run in the sleeve, and picked away some mysterious red flecks and sharpied the rest, it feels new. It turns out I really love this shirt and my feeling of frustration and boredom was directly linked to all of the little evidences of wear that were not noticeable to anybody but the wearer. It’s really quality, too! Very soft and not pilling despite the amount of wear I’ve put on it

Stained shirt embroidery project: put on hold for an unknown amount of time because I realized I’d forgotten the fact that I owned a matching square scarf with a floral pattern; my original dandelion design needs to complement it and I think I need to re-think it and get new embroidery threads

Coat strap: Shortened effectively and while the thread’s not a perfect match, literally no one but me is going to notice and I really don’t care about it

Socks: two pairs of socks to darn, one of them a pair of wool toe socks (ugh but worth it to fix) and the other pair a decorative pair of cotton socks that are cheap enough that they really don’t deserve mending but I don’t really have any other pairs of lightweight tall socks and like these, so I’d better mend them before they’re too threadbare.

Boat-neck shirt that’s too wide-necked for comfort: experimental lacework at the neckline complete and functional. Unfortunately this shirt needs more work and I’m not keen on doing it, but it’s a nice long-sleeved shirt and really comfortable, so I should get on with it. Ideally I’d add cuffs in matching yarn, and add something to the hem as well (needle lace might be something to look in here). It’s also got some ink stains that I have no idea what design to use to cover, but I have beads and ribbons and thread. This is probably a backburner piece for now. I think I’m going to use it to experiment on and keep it as a comfort/casual shirt for now. I’ve got a darker teal version of the shirt with all the same problems and promises, sans stain, and I think it has a chance of being more polished than this one if I do it right, so I want to make all the mistakes on the stained shirt.

Sweatshirt that I love and treated carelessly: buried with my summer clothes from the move. *sigh*...this is all my fault. I used it to hold ripe wild persimmons and turns out those do NOT like to come out, not even from dark navy clothes. Then, when I tried to use oxyclean because that fixed my last stain, I neglected to read the info that says don’t use it with metal! And my lovely sweatshirt is lovely because of its metal zipper and fixings! So now it’s got purplish-reddish spots on it from the reaction of the metal to the oxyclean and I don’t know how to fix it. I know I need a good blue to balance out what was lost, but the spots are big enough that a real dye rather than a permanent marker is probably in order, and it’s got white cloth lettering so dyeing will be a little tricky.

Not mending: tablet weaving! Slow work in progress and I need to unpick some stuff (ugh! spent a few hours stuck on that last night!), but it’s looking a lot more successful than it did a few days ago. Also, I have oodles of yarn that I should spin. I haven’t, because I think I’m a little bored with the plain white color, but I eventually will get back to it. I should look into dyeing, frankly. Also, I would like to make a sweater, some mittens, and maybe a pair of socks, but I don’t know what my skill level at making yarn is or what I could tolerate the feel of the most, and I’ve got a 50$ gift card to my LYS, which is not too shabby but also not enough for a sweater. I figure I could get a pair of mittens or socks out of it, or I could use it to discount the cost of a sweater. Gotta find patterns I want to use, though...

Lessons learned:

There’s a lot you notice consciously or subconsciously about your clothes that someone who doesn’t wear them wouldn’t, and sometimes small changes can transform how you feel about them.

Once you start noticing things, you keep noticing them, and so you’ll probably find a lot more to mend once you start, but I promise it’s worth it

It’s tedious to finish projects but it’s worth it to stick with them to the end and not call quits until you’re actually satisfied, because “it’s okay” and “it’s exactly how I want it, or at least the closest I can get to ideal using my skill set” is the difference between reaching for clothes and ignoring them for ages

To flesh that out a little, there’s a difference between “I don’t care” and “I do care but haven’t noticed/acknowledged it” and “I’m too frustrated to keep going but I am actually still bothered.” The first one is a good place to stop, but the others are not. Being able to tell the difference between a) genuinely not being bothered by the myriad of little imperfections in handmade/altered clothing, b) being bugged at the subconscious level, and c) being quite bothered at a conscious level but too frustrated to keep going/giving up is really important. A is a good stopping point, B is something that it pays to notice and address, and C is something that asks you to step away for a project for a while but come back to it, because projects in a state of B and C are going to bother you at some level, even if you’re calling them “complete,” and that negativity is going to affect your relationship to the clothes, even if it’s subconscious. A is great, though, definitely stop there if you genuinely don’t care.

It is complicated to figure out how a jacket should fit and attach, especially when there are curves and overlapping edges involved!! Not a quick fix, lots of trying on to do

Iron stuff before sewing. It makes a difference. Really.

Probably don’t use the zigzag stitch to secure an edge of a lacy sweater you cut in half because it stretches it out and you’re probably going to roll the edges anyways and it’s hard to un-stretch and un-curl

Read the instructions of cleaning projects. Yes, even when you’ve used them before on different garments

I also learned how much red goes into navy, though, so I guess there’s another lesson. I wish it just didn’t have to happen to my Perfect Sweatshirt. I have not fully ruled out buying a new blank one from the company that makes it and re-sewing on the decoration, or making a new Perfect Sweatshirt from one of their base ones, but I haven’t decided if that’s overkill or not yet.

#mending and making #a big part of the goal of my alterations is to make my clothes more appealing to me #when konmari-ing my clothing i realized that there were specific things stopping clothing from sparking joy so to speak #it's funny but taking the time to fold and examine my clothes #and then identify what I didn't like about them and committing to actually do something about it #has been really nice! i care about my clothes and i like them more!

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

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Thicker Than Water (Part 4)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here) Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

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He awoke sore and badly rested, tears dried on his face.

Jaskier made it through the next day. He ate a little of the food Ciri offered him, only because when he tried to decline the first time her eyes got large and her bottom lip showed just the barest hint of a tremble. He couldn’t bear it. The dry horse bread that was usual for traveling rations crumbled in his mouth. He was so hungry, it was one of the best things he’d ever tasted.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to even unsling his lute from his shoulder during their trek. His fingers itched to play, of course. He continued his story for Ciri and in his mind he played music for the background, he just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sell his lute in this next town, but before they reached Kaer Morhen he would have to. It would give them money, and he wouldn’t be a burden. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and continued telling Ciri the story.

He noticed a bit before mid day that Geralt was watching him. That wasn’t out of sorts, of course. Yennefer and Ciri were watching him too, he was an excellent storyteller and the tale was enthralling. Geralt didn’t seem to be paying attention to the story though. He was staring-- glowering--brow low and furrowed, at Jaskier.

Jaskier felt hurt lance through him and he almost staggered, avoiding Geralt’s gaze. He knew Geralt didn’t want him along, didn’t want him at all, but he couldn’t even pretend? He couldn’t go back to their relationship before? Not the warm, almost companionable silences that had been nurtured between them, but the grunts and stone faced silence of the beginning of their acquaintance.

Jaskier breathed through the pain in his chest. Twenty years of silences, all kinds of them, stony and friendly and sleepy and painful and quietly nice. But they were back to the beginning, or worse, Geralt angry and Jaskier’s voice filling in places it didn’t belong.

“Jaskier?”

That was Ciri, and Jaskier realized that he’d actually trailed off mid-sentence.

“Sorry little highness,” he smiled and gave a funny little bow. “I’m but a simple entertainer, a poet and a fool, sometimes my mind runs away from me.”

“Fool is right,” Yennefer snorted. It wasn’t totally unkind, but it still stung. It stung even more when Geralt, so taciturn all day, snorted with laughter at her comment. Jaskier felt his ears burn and his chest ache.

“Now, where was I?”

“The king’s son met the North Wind,” Ciri said, matching Jaskier’s steps. “And he has to beat him in a game of wit to gain knowledge of where the sorcerer’s daughter was taken, that’s what you said, but you didn’t tell us what game yet.”

At least someone treasured his words, Jaskier thought. Although they weren’t worth much, he threw one out after the other.

Like garbage, whispered the back of his mind.

“Ah yes,” he said instead. “the North Wind sat before the king’s son, and laid out a chess set made of ice and wind.”

“How can chess pieces be made of wind?”

Jaskier smiled, Ciri asked questions at all the right places. “The North Wind wanders, he goes everywhere, blowing cold breath across The Continent. When the North Wind is present and we breath our breath can be seen.” Jaskier smiled here and added an aside, “My little sister used to call it dragon smoke. But by the same magic that gives the North Wind a body to walk the world, he can take our frozen breath and turn it cold and solid as glass.”

Jaskier let himself tell the story on autopilot. His feet ached. He’d been darning the socks he was wearing for a year or more, but he wasn’t good at it and the lumps were rubbing his toes raw. Worse than that, the soles of his boots were almost worn through. Just one more thing he’d have to buy.

He felt ashamed of himself. His boots had been going thin for a while, and instead of saving his coin and getting them repaired or just buying new ones, he’d drowned himself in drink, feeling sorry. Oh, he hadn’t known he would be making a trip up a mountain, but he needed boots regardless. No wonder Geralt had always been upset with him, he always put pleasure over sense, couldn’t even spend coin sensibly.

Couldn’t darn socks, couldn’t budget his coin, couldn’t shut up. A fool.

He stumbled on a tree root and nearly swore. Couldn’t even walk right. One of the blisters building on his foot had burst, he was sure. It was easy to tell, the pain had gone from a rubbing ache to stinging and warm. Only years of practice and performance kept him from interrupting the story.

Something must have shown on his face though, or his scent changed or whatever because Geralt was staring at him intently. That face, always so unreadable.

Jaskier wasn’t going to give him anything else to scowl about. He kept walking, keeping the story rolling and his voice light. His bones ached. He had to stop for just a moment when a button, long past hanging loosely on his doublet, finally pulled free. He picked it up and the head rush nearly took him to the ground. He’d eaten little, slept poorly, and the only food he’d had in a long time before this was ale. He blinked the grey from his vision, trying not to let the panic show when it didn’t go away as quickly as he’d have liked.

It was okay. It was all going to be okay. They’d make it to the village by nightfall. They wouldn’t sleep there of course but he could get proper food. Maybe even slip away and catch a quick nap in a stable or hayloft or something. His whole body was buzzing with a sort of exhausted energy and his heart was pounding.

Jaskier reflected that he hadn’t been well before meeting up with Geralt and his little family. He’d been sick with drink and heartache and had not enough food then too.

Smile through the pain.

This wasn’t even bad as performances could go. Once he’d actually broken a finger just before a set at Oxenfurt. Simple clumsiness, he’d closed his index finger in a door, but he’d played his whole set, with a perfect score from his professor.

It grew darker, the sun just setting when they reached a field at the edge of the town. It was a large open field and, in warmer months, it was likely home to fairs and large market days. Probably in these rural areas people traveled for a week to bring their goods and livestock to this town. It didn’t matter now, mid autumn settling into late autumn. To Jaskier the town was nameless.

They set up camp in the field. It left them exposed to being seen, but they hid themselves behind a small rise on the edge of the field, blocking them mostly from sight. Still, Geralt seemed on edge. Jaskier wasn’t sure it was about the camp. Geralt kept looking over at him with his eyebrows pressed together. Whenever he did that it formed this little crease right between his brows that Jaskier wanted to kiss away.

Jaskier bit his lip, hard, to focus on anything other than that.

The three of them sat, too tired to talk much more. Jaskier had finished most of the story and decided to leave the rest for the next day they were traveling a lot, to give Ciri something else to think about. She was definitely Calanthe’s blood. They traveled all day and she never complained, but also told them when she needed to stop, advocating for herself in no uncertain terms. It was the princess herself who interrupted his thoughts.

“You said you had a sister, do you have lots of siblings?”

“Not really,” Jaskier said, settling down on the ground and feeling his bones pop. His blisters were definitely bleeding inside his boots too. “Two older brothers, Henrik and Teodor, and I had a younger sister, Lotte.”

“Had?”

“She was sickly, always too small for her age,” Jaskier said quietly. “I learned the lute for her, at first. She liked music and was often bedridden. A fever took her when she was about your age.” Jaskier looked down at his battered boots.

“I’m sorry,” Ciri whispered.

“It’s allright little highness, it’s been almost thirty years now. Time flies.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” Geralt said. It was growly, but Geralt always used that tone.

“You never really asked.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Jaskier ate the last of the rations in his pack, waving away Ciri’s offerings and showing her his food as proof that he had some. It didn’t really settle the hunger that had been eating him from the inside out all day, but at this point he figured he could eat a mountain and still have room for dessert.

“Tomorrow,” Geralt said gruffly once dinner was cleared away. “We don’t all enter the town as a group. Yen and Ciri go together. I go alone. Jaskier goes alone.”

Jaskier nodded, so did Ciri and Yennefer.

“If we see eachother, act as though we don’t know eachother,” Geralt said, then he turned his gaze on Jaskier. “Don’t attract too much attention.”

Jaskier bristled at getting his own private reprimand. “I’m a bard, Geralt,” he said. “How am I supposed to earn coin if I don’t play.”

Geralt grunted. “I didn’t say don’t play just no... don’t do the whole...” he gestured a vauge hand.

“The whole...me?” Jaskier said sarcastically. He was pulling at the lion’s tail he knew, but he was in pain and tired and hungry and Geralt had no right to be so cruel.

“The whole bright colors, loud and annoying thing. Country bard, not court bard, got it?”

Loud and annoying.

“Got it,” Jaskier said, looking back down at his boots. He didn’t say that none of his clothes could have passed for courtly anymore anyway.

They set about getting ready for bed. Ciri gave him a quick hug before she and Yennefer disappeared into their magical tent. Jaskier sat and pulled off his boots, not letting a single flicker of pain show on his face. He knew Geralt would be able to smell blood, but Geralt had gone to get water from the nearby river. He had to peel his socks off and yes, there was blood there, by now stuck into the threadbare fabric. He let himself wince then. He rinsed off the wounds but he was without bandages, so he just dried off the area and put his other pair of socks on. He only had the two pairs anyway, but at least the blisters would stay dry.

He rolled himself into his bedroll and thought of tomorrow. At least there were no tree roots here.

The next day dawned slowly, instead of bright pinks and oranges it was a kind of runny yellow that just leeched into the sky before fading into early morning blue. Jaskier watched in admiration as Yennefer changed Geralt’s hair to short and dark, and then gave herself brown eyes and a slightly different bone structure. To look at both of them was odd, because Jaskier could see the similarities. Yennefer’s nose was changed and her cheekbones were a little different, but it was still her, and Geralt just looked like a different, although quite handsome, version of himself. Ciri was simply given mousy brown hair and some extra freckles.

Just like that, the perfect and all powerful family looked like two normal people and one witcher who was still clearly a witcher but not the white wolf. Jaskier shouldered his lute. He’d cleaned up the scruff he’d been growing into a more respectable look and with his longer hair and tatty cloak he looked like any poor traveling musician. If he’d traded the lute for a shortbow he could have looked like a woodsman, totally nondescript.

He was entering from a different direction, so as not to arouse suspicion, and so was Geralt. Jaskier began walking around, so that he could enter from the east. Yen and Ciri would walk into town the closest direction, and Geralt was entering from the west. This early, it was unlikely they would have been seen all together.

Jaskier made his way to the eastern edge of the town and walked in, scanning the streets. If this were a farm people would be up and awake long before now, farmers wake well before dawn, but this was a town, and so few people wandered the streets. Shop keepers were just beginning to open up. Jaskier bought a couple pears, slightly overripe but cheaper because of it, off of a fruit seller and had breakfast. He tried to lock into his mind all the shops around so he could find his supplies easiest later.

His mind was resisting him though. In spite of the softer ground, Jaskier had still slept badly last night. His body ached and he wished he could find somewhere warm to lay for an hour or two. Instead he found the well.

As wells should be, this one was right in the center of town. He set down his lute case beside it, tuned his lovely lady, and began to play.

In his very first few months after leaving Oxenfurt he had learned this trick, and used it often. If you get into a town early, play at the well. People get their water first thing in the morning and there you are.

A few young women with yokes and buckets smiled at him and he nodded in return. The day brightened a little further as the sun crept above the buildings and more people came to gather in the town square. They weren’t there to hear Jaskier, not at first, most of them came for water, or to chat with neighbors, or discuss business. Many of them gathered around him though.

Coins clattered into the case. Mostly coppers, but in a little town like this that was quite normal.

“As sweet Polly Oliver lay musing in bed, A sudden strange fancy came into her head. "Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove, I'll 'list as a soldier, and follow my love,” he sang.

“So early next morning she softly arose, And dressed herself up in her dead brother's clothes. She cut her hair close, and she stained her face brown, And went for a soldier to fair Rinde Town.”

Sweet Polly Oliver was one of his favorites, a simple country song about a girl and her lover in wartime. This town was far enough north that with luck Nilfgaard wouldn’t attack, but the anxiety threatened.

Jaskier gave a good performance, perhaps not his best, but he was tired and cold and the flagstones beneath his feet were very hard. He danced about, playing sweet folk songs and jigs and reels, delighting in the people who swept up and danced along. Still, though, he felt his feet bleeding inside his boots. He played from just after dawn until perhaps an hour after noon before bowing away and taking his coin.

He’d done better than he’d expected, but there wasn’t nearly enough coin for all the things he’d need for Kaer Morhen, and extra food to help Geralt and Ciri. He’d buy what he needed now, and they’d stop again in Ard Carraigh before the keep. He’d sell his lute there, it was a large city, and he’d get a good price. The thought still made him ache, though.

It wasn’t just his emotions causing him pain, he realised. The aches he’d been experiencing were in his chest lately, and both physical and emotional. He just needed more rest.

Jaskier slipped through back alleys and bent streets. He’d seen a stable on his way into town. He stepped in quietly, startling a stable hand, no more than a boy, who’d been quietly talking to a horse.

“You’re the bard,” he said. “Saw you in the square jus’ this morning.”

“That’s right,” Jaskier said, bowing a little. “I’m afraid I’ll be moving on this evening and--”

“And you want to have a kip in the stables,” said the boy. “Yeah lots o’ musicians and peddlers do that. Rule is though, I got to get a coin off ‘em first as payment. I’m sorry, but I get a beating if’n I don’t.”

“No worries,” Jaskier said, he’d expected as much. He handed the boy two copper coins. “There’s pay, won’t have you getting beaten for my sake, the second coin is to wake me in two hours.”

The boy gave him a lopsided grin. “You got it sir, thanks.”

Jaskier snuggled up in the hay loft. He’d often done it, it was pretty common, if you couldn’t buy a stay at an inn or especially if you just needed a ‘kip’ as the boy had said, during the day. He’d slept in haystacks once in a while on the road too. They were sort of comfortable and surprisingly warm and, best of all, robbers didn’t get you if you kept yourself mostly under the hay.

The scent of hay and oats and horses lulled him to sleep.

He dreamed about haystacks. For some reason Roach was in the haystack with him. Geralt and Ciri too, even Yennefer. It was a crowded haystack indeed, and it grew smaller and smaller until Jaskier had to leave it and sleep on the ground so that the others weren’t squished.

He awoke to the stable boy nudging him.

“Pardon me mister,” he said. “But it’s been two hours.”

Jaskier thanked him and brushed off his clothes.

The shops were doing a good trade this afternoon and he’d be sure to be a face in the crowd. He bought a small cooking pot and plenty of ground oats and barley for porridge at one shop. They were light to carry and owner packaged them nicely, first in one cheap, cloth drawstring bag, and then in another such bag, but with the drawstring on a different side, so he was unlikely to lose food.

In another stall he bought plenty of nuts, walnuts were cheap here and would keep well. Good for traveling and they had protein. Some dried jerky, dried peas, and dried lentils finished his food shopping, and also most of his coin.

It was three days to Ard Carraigh, another week to trek up to the keep. The food would sustain him for that long, and they’d probably just pool their food to make sure everyone was fed. Still, he wasn’t being a burden, not too much.

He couldn’t afford new boots, gloves, or a cloak right now, but with the last of his coin he bought a new pair of thick, warm socks, a small roll of bandages, and a couple pieces of candied ginger in a little paper twist. He tucked them all away and left the town, disappearing back to the field and their little camp well before the sun set.

Jaskier’s heart sunk to see that he was the last to arrive. Everything was packed up, they couldn’t risk staying in the same place two nights in a row. Geralt grunted at him, but didn’t unleash any thoughts on Jaskier being a burden, so he counted himself lucky.

He hung his head a little at having delayed their parting and trekked after the perfect little family, his pack much heavier than it had been. Ciri slid her hand into his and they walked on in silence. The hand was nice though.

In an odd way, it hurt, too. He wasn’t part of the family, so he didn’t really deserve this, but it was painfully good to have just a taste of being wanted.

What would happen, he wondered, when the winter was over. He was a danger to Geralt and Ciri if Nilfgaard found him. He wasn’t wanted by Geralt at all. Jaskier was reminded once again that it would be so much easier for Geralt to kill him, or for Yennefer to wipe his memory. Maybe he could fake his death to get Nilfgaard of his trail.

“Jaskier?” Ciri asked. “How did you become a bard?”

Jaskier looked down at her, maudlin thoughts interuppted. “Oh, well, it’s not as though you have to register, you just become one. Walking into an inn and saying ‘let me play for you pretty please I need food’ is a good start.”

“No,” Ciri giggled. “I meant, you said you learned the lute for your sister, but you write your own music and stuff too.”

“Oh, well, anyone can write music if they have an instrument and a good enough memory,” Jaskier said. “Indeed, many of the greatest bards had little education at all, I, however, studied at Oxenfurt.”

“Did you like it?”

“Sometimes. It was school, and some parts were dull but I learned much.”

“I heard some of the maids giggling once about a young scholar who’d come to stay with us,” Ciri said, matter of factly. “He was always in the library and was kind of snooty with me when I asked questions, but the maids were saying he certainly had a lot of ‘carnal knowledge’. Did you study that too?”

Jaskier was choking on thin air.

“I, um, no it was more of a hobby,” Jaskier said before his head could catch up with his mouth. “Little Highness, I suspect you weren’t supposed to hear that conversation, and no, I studied the seven liberal arts.”

“So it was about sex, I was never sure,” Ciri said.

Jaskier coughed awkwardly. “Yes, princess.”

“It’s okay, I know about that stuff, Grandmother explained it.”

Jaskier let out a breath, at least he wouldn’t have to be the one to explain anything to her.

“When you went to school were you scared to leave your family?” Ciri asked.

“No, pet, I was excited to go,” he wasn’t about to get into all his trauma with her, she had enough of her own, poor thing. “I couldn’t wait to learn about music and poetry.”

“Grandmother said all poets were silly romantics and dreamers, but I think that sounds nice. Do you have a moose?”

“A what?”

“I read it in a book, a moose, somebody you love and you write about it.”

“Oh, that’s one of the trickier words Ciri, it’s said ‘muse’, and yes, I had one or two.”

“Only one or two? In the book the poet had hundreds,” Ciri sounded almost disappointed.

“I only ever needed one,” Jaskier said quietly. “One that mattered anyway.”

“And your Countess still left you,” Geralt said, rather coldly. He was doing his annoyed face and Jaskier could have kicked himself. He’d been talking too much. The reminder that the Countess de Stael had left him too hurt, but Jaskier wasn’t going to risk Geralt’s ire to say that she wasn’t the muse he was talking about. That was maybe something he should keep to himself.

“Do muses often leave?” Ciri asked, wide eyed. “If somebody was writing me poetry I wouldn’t want to.”

“No, usually the poet does the leaving,” Jaskier said. “After his muse asks him to go. There’s a shelf life on a bard, you know. We only have so many stories and songs before we’re used up and no one wants us around anymore. That’s when we move along.”

“I’ll hear your stories again and again,” Ciri said. “I won’t ask you to go.”

Jaskier’s heart curled up and whimpered inside his chest. He’d have to go sooner or later, he’d have to leave her. Geralt would get sick of him, too sick to bear even for Ciri’s sake. Or Jaskier would just have to leave of his own volition, lest he shovel shit into her life too.

If he could give her life one blessing...

“This’ll do for a campsite,” Geralt said. It was a tiny, clear area. Jaskier almost groaned. It was surrounded by oak trees, with dropped acorns that would dig into his bedroll and mottle his back with bruises come morning. He’d had a good rest in town, though, so another bad night of sleep wouldn’t be too bad, he told himself.

The others had eaten in town. Jaskier said he had too, so he wouldn’t waste rations. He had plenty, but strangely, he wasn’t so hungry lately. Anyway, always best to save.

He pulled off his boots and his freshly bloodied socks. Ew. Ciri retired to the magic tent early, exhausted from their long days of walking. Jaskier listened to Yennefer and Geralt talk.

“We’ll need lots of supplies in Ard Carraigh,” Geralt was saying.

“We don’t have any money,” Yennefer replied.

Jaskier had his back to them as he cleaned the wounds on his feet, but he could picture grave expressions.

“We’ll get some, I’ll do a quick contract there, something. We’ll need a cart and pony to get Ciri up The Killer, it’s too much for her, it’s too hard for some witchers even.”

“That’ll cost,” Yennefer said. “But you’re right. I wish I could portal us but--”

“Tracking, exactly. There’s always plenty of contracts in cities, it’ll be fine.”

Jaskier looked at the blisters on his foot, they’d opened more with his long performance that day. It was no matter, he wound the bandages around them and put on his new, thick socks. At least his feet would be warm.

Not too warm, though. He spotted a hole in the bottom of his boot that he hadn’t noticed before.

And they needed lots of money for Ard Carraigh. No matter. He knew how to get some.

He pretended his eyes filled with tears from the pain of blisters, not from heartache, as he pushed his feet back into his boots and opened the lute case. He pulled out his beautiful girl. He wouldn’t play her, it would annoy Geralt. He’d always hated Jaskier’s music, although he hated to hear Jaskier sing even more.

Pie with no filling.

Jaskier wished he could play her, though. It was going to break his heart to part with her, and he didn’t think he’d ever played another instrument as fine. If he could, he’d play her every second until he had to sell her.

Probably for the best, though, if he was going to fake his death. She was distinctive.

He brushed a hand over the beautiful wood work on her front. There was a little bit of linseed oil left, and he poured it on the rag he kept in the case and began to work over his girl lovingly. His eyes teared up again, but he fought it back. He would have smashed his lute if it meant helping Ciri. And Geralt.

Jaskier longed for Geralt to forgive him, to take him back and let him stay by his side, but he’d meant what he’d said, bards have a shelf life, and Jaskier’s time was up.

He wished Geralt would at least speak with him, though. His heart was aching. In a completely different sense, so was his chest.

“Play us a tune, bard,” Yennefer said.

Jaskier turned around. Yen and Geralt were sitting beside eachother, close together. She looked so beautiful in her fine cloak that Jaskier wondered how he ever thought he could catch Geralt’s eye when beings like her existed.

“You know,” he said. “It’s late and I wouldn’t want to bother Ciri.”

“Tent’s soundproof,” Yennefer said, waving her hand.

“I mean, really,” Jaskier protested weakly. Disobeying Yennefer’s request/command was like bathing your brain in lava, but Geralt was looking angry again. Some would say there wasn’t much change from Geralt’s normal expression, but Jaskier knew his face better than he knew his own. Something had made Geralt angry or upset. The only possible answer was Jaskier. It was always Jaskier.

“Play us a song, bard,” Yennefer said. “You’ve been so quiet other than stories, I’d almost think you were a doppler, Melitele knows no one could have taught you to shut up.”

Jaskier swallowed the lump in his throat.

He began, slowly, to pick out a gently tune on his lute. It was a song about winter and home, and he knew the lyrics well. Yennefer had only asked him to play, so he would. His music was at least less offensive than his voice.

He reveled in the feel of his lute beneath his fingers, letting the feeling wash over him, committing it to memory.

When he was finished Yennefer said, “I suppose your voice was tired from your performance, I heard in the town how the bard had played such a long set.”

Jaskier smiled grimly back at her. “Just earning my keep.”

He went to bed, feeling the cold seep into his bones.

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

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz @live-long-and-trek-on @holymotherwolf @gryffinqueen

@samukai @charlies-dragon I can’t seem to tag, but they’re on the list

#geraksier #adhd Jaskier #the witcher #angst #jaskier #geralt #yennefer #ciri #platonic yennalt #yennefer is a good mom #and deserves nice things #kaer morhen #soon but not yet #emotional hurt/comfort #just hurt now #the comfort is yet to come

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chibinekochan · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for the boys with a super touch starved s/o?

Yeah, I feel like a lot of them are at least low-key touch starved.

(I'm kinda unhappy with some of these, so I might write something else like this at some point)

Mammon

Usually this guy clings to you nonstop.

So this only happened when you two were separated for a week.

Sure it was only a week no big deal.

He was always there clingy on your side so some freedom surely can be nice?

You were wrong, so wrong.

It felt so lonely, you miss his voice, his touch and even his silly plans.

You almost cry when you find one of his socks in your bed.

Then after one long week your boyfriend finally returns and Mammon didn't expect you to basically jump at him and cling to him.

Is he complaining? No, of course not.

Mammon missed you just as much as you missed him.

Actually to this point he was always a bit worried that he was too clingy but now he knows that you don't mind.

You two will spend hours just cuddling to make up for lost time.

Leviathan

So u are his first love, so he is pretty unsure about what to do.

Of course, he has seen many romance anime, even more after you two were going steady.

Anime is not real life and in real life he is pretty awkward.

In theory, he wants to do all kinds of things with you.

What includes hugging and kissing, but it is quite hard for him to tell you straight up what he wants.

So it's no real surprise that you often start by showing affection towards him but extremely rarely Levi will be forward of giving you any affection.

You don't want to push him of course so you take it slowly.

Sadly you end up being really touch starved.

It becomes a huge issue between you, until you really have a conversation with Leviathan.

At first Levi is worried that you will break up with him, of course you won't.

He then explains how insecure he is, and he brings up some scenarios he would like to try with you and how he is always too shy to go ahead with them.

You agree on some scenarios he wants to try to you encourage him.

After this it becomes better since Levi is more forward about his wants

and you get more open about telling him when you want to cuddle.

Lucifer

He is touch starved too but doesn't even know it.

After you two have become a couple it's a bit hard to break his shell sometimes.

It's no wonder since he tends to be a secretive guy, and he is also kinda busy being everyone's mom, I mean older brother.

You think he is just not into touching so you more or less settle with being touch starved.

One late night you find your boyfriend once again on his desk, still working and looking exhausted and tense.

You make him a coffee, like many times before, but this time you also decide to rub his neck.

At this point he realizes that he really needed it.

It feels so good and it helps him relax so much.

After this Lucifer becomes more open to affection.

He will touch you more regularly from now on.

Satan

He doesn't notice right away.

Isn't the best with giving affection.

Once he does notice it, or you tell him, he will drop everything to help you.

Satan will invite you to his room (he is a bit shy at public affection).

Then he will spend hours snuggling you.

He will hold you close and rub your back gently.

Satan will hold you close and have you on his lap, while reading to you.

He will hold your hand in public after this.

Satan will not let his love be touch starved.

Asmodeus

This boy is always all-over you so it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else.

To be fair you were busy with your finals and took a break from seeing each other, since he is always so darn distracting.

You just got too used to him being always there, clinging to each other, driving everyone else jealous.

Now it just feels so lonely and strangely cold.

You just can't take it and break the break by going to Asmodeus room.

For a second he is startled when you climb into the bed.

He doesn't mind at all, of course.

He clings to you right away.

Asmo notices right away that you are craving his touch.

He is more than happy to give you all you want and more.

Hugs, rubs, snuggles, soft touches and everything else.

Asmodeus is also pretty starved for your touch and attention, so he will basically purr every time you touch him.

After this your break is definitely over.

Beelzebub

He is a bit like a big cuddly bear so usually you get all the cuddles you need.

If for some reason you didn't he will definitely will make up for it.

He will take an entire day of food worth into your room.

Just to make sure that he doesn't have to leave you alone.

Beel will then cuddle you however you like.

If there is no personal preference he will sprawl allover the bed, with you on top of him.

Beelzebub will hold you with one hand and lets his other hand run over your back.

You can use the chance to rub his chest or his sides, maybe even his arms.

It will feel super safe and comfy.

He is open to spend every night like this.

Belphegor

He really enjoys your attention when he passes out.

Head rubs are a huge weakness of his.

You shyly tell him that you want him to touch you for a while.

He is a bit taken back but doesn't mind at all.

If his human is requesting it who is he to deny you?

You lay beside him and the slowly touches you starting at your hands and arms and slowly working his way up to whatever parts he can reach.

If you have a favorite spot he will give that extra attention, even it it should require extra work.

Belphie gives you a pretty relaxed feeling when he is lazily running his hand over your body.

Belphie will slowly pass out, but he will keep clinging to you the entire time you need him.

He is actually pretty glad that you let him touch you.

Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (6)

In Which Plagg is Annoying

So, my beloved Fiancé really likes Magic: The Gathering. He’s taught me how to play it, and talks about it a lot, but I still don’t really understand it. It’s a complicated game. So this chapter has sections of me purposefully badly explaining the game, sorry if that bothers you lol.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

Adrien awoke curled in a ball. His bed was extremely soft, and he sunk right into it.

Oh, except it was a pillow. He was still in Plagg’s tiny Kwami body. Great.

He yawned and stretched, realizing that he was alone in his bed.

“Plagg?” He asked the room.

There was no answer, but the bathroom door was closed.

Plagg was most likely getting him ready, or his human body, ready for school.

Before Adrien could imagine the worst case scenario, the bathroom door opened, and Plagg emerged.

Adrien stared, and then declared loudly, “NO.”

“Yes!” Said Plagg, flouncing into Adrien’s closet.

“How—why? When?!”

Plagg brought his pre-chosen outfit into the main room, and started to get dressed, carefully slipping the purple tiger striped shirt over his expertly gelled Mohawk.

“Did you not see me buy that ultra super strong hair gel yesterday?”

“I didn’t see anything you bought yesterday,” said Adrien with frustration. “I was in your pocket the whole time, remember?”

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat!” He slipped on an over shirt, that was black with orange leopard spots.

“Oh god...”

“You should have been more careful about what you brought home from shoots,” Plagg sang. “Love the leopard spots. Though I’m just a black cat, mixing up my coat on occasion would be fun.”

“I kept that shirt because I thought it was funny, or it would be good for a costume. You can’t honestly wear it!”

Plagg blew him a raspberry. “Oh suck it up buttercup! It’ll be fine!”

Adrien watched with other things on his mind as Plagg finished dressing. Brown pants, rolled up with mismatched argyle socks, and then the same green sunglasses to cover his cat eyes.

“I think I have a photo shoot with Lila after school,” said Adrien.

“And?”

“And you should probably attend it. I know you want to piss off my dad and blow off responsibilities that aren’t Miraculous related, but modeling is my job. I’m still under a contract and I get paid for it. That money goes to my college fund, which I intend to use to pick my own career.”

“What’s one missed shift to the son of the company?”

“A strike against me, and a loss of around a thousand euros.”

Plagg swiveled his head to look at him. “That much? Is Lila making that too?”

“No.” Adrien chuckled. “I am in high demand and so I make more. She makes around 15 euros an hour. That’s why she always drags photoshoots on for so long. Me and some of the other models get paid per gig.”

Plagg scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“So will you behave for three hours?”

“No,” said Plagg, smoothing his shirt and hair. “But I’ll participate in the shoot and play nice with the photographer. Lila, on the other hand, I have plans for.”

Adrien looked at him warily. “...alright.”

Doing a once-over, Plagg declared, “just one more accessory, the piece de resistance...” he reached into a plastic bag from his shopping yesterday.

Adrien gaped in horror. “NO. NO NO NO!”

—

Gabriel walked from the kitchen back to his office, coffee mug in hand. Dealing with Adrien’s rebellion had been a PR nightmare, but he was able to spin Adrien’s outfit yesterday, as out of character as it was, as merely a phase. A phase which he would grow out of soon, but one that was necessary for Adrien to grow, to explore his own style, to learn fashion in his own mind. The media ate it up, and several articles would be coming out in the next week or so.

Then the boy in question streaked by him in a kaleidoscope of color.

Gabriel sputtered on his coffee, staining his suit with the brown liquid, but not caring a bit.

“Adrien?!” He shouted, beyond horrified. He couldn’t tell what was worse, the patterns? The colors? The hair? NO.

“Where did you get crocs?” Gabriel asked, as Adrien reached the unfortunately unlocked door.

He turned for just a second, long enough to shout. “Ask my butt, old man!” Before the door shut behind him.

Gabriel had to call those magazines back.

—

Plagg arrived at school, drawing the attention of every student mingling there. Some stared in horror, while others held in laughter.

A student passed Plagg and raised a fist. “Nice duds, dude! Stick it to the man!”

Plagg responded with a gleeful grin and matching fist bump.

“Oh my god,” said Nino, as he arrived. “You look amazing.”

“My dad spilled coffee on himself this morning, and the look on his face was totally worth it.”

“God, I wish I could have been there.” Nino sighed.

“It was pretty amazing, not going to lie.”

“Oh, while we have a second...I was hoping to have a sleepover this weekend. Marinette and Alya would come over for the evening, and then leave in time for dude’s night. You in?”

“Just you and me?”

“Yeah, if that’s cool.”

“Absolutely! After school tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Marinette said your schedule was open.”

“Marinette knew that? I didn’t even know that.”

“I think she keeps track of that stuff for class activities.” He cleared his throat, not looking at him. “And for no other reason besides that.”

Plagg chuckled to himself. God, Nino was the worst liar. “I understand. Someone’s got to know my schedule if I don’t.”

“Marinette is the best, after all.” Nino puffed up his chest, doing his damndest to be a good wingman.

Plagg didn’t think he needed to try so hard, but props. “She is the best, isn’t she?”

Nino smiled widely, like he had a secret joke that wouldn’t make sense to anyone.

A pair of arms wound around his own, squeezing tightly like a boa constrictor. “Good morning Adrien!” Lila chirped.

“Morning,” Plagg returned, playing casual in front of Nino.

“I need to talk to you about the photoshoot after school.” She turned to Nino. “Can I borrow your buddy for a minute?”

“You can have him for five minutes.” Nino winked.

Lila giggled, sounding pretty realistic to an untrained ear. “Thanks Nino!” Without waiting for Plagg’s permission, she dragged him away to a sequestered corner of the courtyard.

Before Plagg could even ask what was in her mind, she turned and faced him, expression full of vitriol and rage. It was not a face he’d seen on many mortals.

“Don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying to do, Adrien.” Her voice was cold, sharp, and harsh.

Adrien shivered in Plagg’s pocket.

“And that would be...?”

“Trying to weasel your way out of our little agreement.”

Plagg blinked, remembering the arrangement they had prepared a while ago. It’s what had gotten Marinette un-expelled. Just schmooze with the brat and she’d leave Marinette alone. But it was very apparent she was ready to take any violation of this agreement as an invitation to jump right back into her conniving ways.

Plagg would hold out for now, play the long game. He had a plan, and if that failed for some unexplainable reason, then he had another one lined up. It was just a matter of finding out what bait Lila would take.

He feigned a gasp, as well as she would, and laid a hand on his chest. “Oh Lila, whatever are you talking about? I’m just having a little disagreement with my dear old dad. It’s nothing against you! Honest!”

She squinted at him. “You’re still on the schedule to model with me later today, so I’m assuming you didn’t actually quit modeling. If you had, this would have turned sour.”

“What do you mean?”

“Modeling is our ‘fun friendship’ activity, and if you try to get out of it, I’m going to assume you don’t care about Marinette after all.” She shrugged.

He laughed, a dark sinister laugh that didn’t belong on his handsome, sweet, cherubic face. “You mortals are just so cute when you think you can win against me.”

The look on Lila’s face was perfect. Part confused, part terrified. “What?”

He spoke with a voice older than time, conjuring magics from the ancient unknowns. “Dos valok th’um krosis!”

“Did...did you just cast a spell on me?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. How do your lips feel?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know, a little—“

“CHAPPED?” Provided Plagg, with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh my god.”

“Do not test me, Lila Rossi. You won’t win.” He gave her a pleasant little smile.

She stared in bewilderment, before chuckling right back. “Boy, you had me for a second.” She pulled out a tube of chapstick and applied some. “Are you trying to psych me out? Cause it’s not going to work.”

“Well darn,” said Plagg with a little snap of his fingers. “Thought my necromancy could spook you off. Well, if that didn’t do it, I guess you really do want to be my friend, no matter how quirky I can be.” He gave a happy little sigh.

Lila was immediately suspicious. “Sure, I want to be your friend...?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but Lila wasn’t convinced.

Unless Adrien really was that naïve.

“Great!” Plagg clapped. “I have to go talk to Marinette, but we’ll hang out at the shoot! It’s going to be so much fun!” And he hurried off.

Lila narrowed her eyes back in his direction. There was definitely fishy about that exchange. She couldn’t very well text Gabriel and say, “there’s something suspicious about your son. He actually wants to be my friend. Also he chapped my lips.” That would be too confusing and send all the wrong messages.

So she resigned to wait until the photoshoot after all. Since, of course, he couldn’t keep up this act for several hours in a row. She could, but she was a professional.

Her musings came to a halt as she heard the wonderful noise of Marinette’s scream. “MY EYES!!”

Lila hurried from her nook to find out what had happened. Had someone sprayed her with mace? Pocket sand?

No. Adrien was merely striking poses in front of her, and she had recoiled in horror.

“Adrien!” She stated, aghast. “How could you?!”

He posed again, butt in her direction. “You like?”

“It’s foul. Are those crocs?!”

“Yep! I contemplated on getting the little ladybug plugs for the holes, but I didn’t really think it was worth it. After all, how often do you look at a man’s feet?”

“In that outfit, it’s going to be too hard to tell what part is the worst.” Her eyes bounced over the competing patterns and made her dizzy. “Well here,” she handed over a hanger covered with a trash bag. “Your sin against fashion has been committed. I’m willing to do more, but don’t attach my name to it.”

Adrien just laughed. “Don’t worry, Pooh Bear, your secret is safe with me.”

Lila’s lips curled in disgust at the nickname. Obviously, she would tell Gabriel that Marinette was enabling his behavior. Maybe she could spin it as her influence all together. Yes, yes, that would work. Two stones and all that.

—

After school, Lila rode with Adrien to the photoshoot.

Boy, if she wanted a taste of what the day would be like, she certainly got it. And she should have taken the chance to run.

“So Nino and I started playing this game with the guys in class,” Adrien had begun, without so much as a greeting. “Have you heard of Magic: The Gathering?”

“...no?”

“Oh okay, so I’ll tell you all about it.”

As a master manipulator, Lila understood the masterful art of conversation. There were several strategies she had developed over the years. Her favorite was ‘talk passionately and allow for natural lulls in explanation so they can ask questions’. It made people feel engaged and kept them coming back for more, while she was perceived as interesting and smart, but also humble.

However, it seemed that Adrien was utilizing the beginners mistake of ‘poorly explain a subject you’re not really passionate about without letting the other person talk’. Like an underpaid substitute teacher filling in for a class they don’t know much about.

“So like, there are these cards with different landscapes on them, and they’re all different based on color, right? So there’s water or islands for blue and mountains and stuff for red, right? And each one is worth mana. And you have to use mana to play a card. Except for lands, I think. You can play those whenever, except you have to draw them, you can’t just go searching through your deck. Unless a card tells you you can.”

Finally, they arrived at the shoot, and Lila nearly fell out of the car in her haste to get away for some peace and quiet, just for a second.

Who knew that boy could talk so much?

—

Plagg and his mohawk were led to the makeup trailer. Thankfully for the hairstylist, it came with a salon sink, so Adrien didn’t have to go home and shower.

“Sorry, Mr. Agreste,” the stylist said as she draped a cape on him. “We have to flatten the mohawk.”

“That’s alright,” Plagg assured with a polite smile. “It served its purpose.”

“It was very well done, honestly,” she said with a laugh. “For not having the sides of your head shaved, that is.”

“I had to work with what I had.”

The stylist just hummed in understanding, as she started to rinse his hair, the gel melting and washing down the drain.

The stylist sighed, and gave a little huff to herself.

Plagg normally wouldn’t care, but if his meddling had inconvenienced someone else’s job, that would reflect poorly on Adrien. So, he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Umm...” she paused, biting her lip. “Look, we’re friends right?”

Plagg didn’t even know this person’s name. “Of course.”

“Are you close to Miss Rossi? I know you guys are friends...”

“I hate her guts.” Plagg declared with a broad smile.

“Oh good!” She relaxed. “I really really hate working on her. And so does everyone else, and last time she was here, she was just—Ugh, the worst. I got so frustrated because Giuseppe and your father like her, so even if I complained, nothing would happen. Likely, I’m the one that would get in trouble. You remember Alexander, right? The lighting assistant?”

No. Not one bit. “Yeah?”

“Well, she yelled at him one time during a shoot, in the back. Apparently, she wanted coffee and he wouldn’t get it for her, even though that’s soooo not his job. So she complained to Giuseppe and got him fired! Honestly, I don’t know how he didn’t get akumatized over that.”

“I don’t either!” Plagg said, with surprise. “I knew she was a pain, but yikes...”

“I think you’re a really cool kid, Adrien. But she’s going around and telling everyone you got her this job and—“ she sighed. “People are getting resentful.”

Now Plagg was mad. It was immediately apparent that Lila had a ‘if I can’t have them, no one can’ attitude, turning the staff on Adrien if she couldn’t win them over with her outlandish lies. Adrien couldn’t afford having that many enemies. He was too soft.

“Actually...” Plagg began to explain how Lila had wound up with her job, lying to Nathalie and Gorilla to get access to his house, lying to his father to get on his good side, and all the things she did to Marinette, who he took the bullet for to protect. “She means a lot to me,” Plagg said, in regards to Marinette. “So I didn’t mind having to pretend to be Lila’s friend if it meant she could come back to school and not be harassed anymore. It seems that Lila has a loose form of friendship.”

The stylist wiped her eyes. “Oh Adrien, you’ve got such a heart of gold. I’ll set everything straight with the team. Don’t you worry!”

“I actually have a plan, that you might let everyone in on. And I apologize in advance.”

“Lay it on me.”

—

By time Lila was called in to get ready, Plagg had been groomed into a normal looking boy with normal looking hair and clothes. Though normal protocol usually had Lila in hair and make-up alone with the stylists, Plagg sat in a chair nearby, separated from her by a curtain.

“Adrien? Shouldn’t you be out there?”

“Oh it’s okay, I wanted to keep telling you about this game.”

“Oh, well, you shouldn’t keep Giuseppe…”

“He won’t mind. So, there’s a bunch of colors, right? Red, Black, Green, Blue, White, and…one more. I think there’s one more.”

A sigh was heard from the other side of the curtain.

“No, no I was right, there’s only five. But you can combine them. But not like, mix them? It’s like, Blue-Black, and Red-Black. And Green-Blue. And so different colors have different themes, right? And the themes are different based on the set. Oh yeah, there’s different sets and Wizards of the Coast release like, two or three sets a year. I think. Like they had this one that was all about Dinosaurs and pirates. But they usually aren’t that wacky. Unless it’s a joke set. Which that one wasn’t. I can’t remember the name of it right now, but it started with an ‘I’.” And he was off, explaining all he could remember of the game, from what Adrien had told him, to what he had heard while the boys played at school. If he could find a point to elaborate on, he did.

Every once in a while, he’d make eye contact with a staff member, who would in turn grin and give a secret thumbs up.

He started to run out of steam while Lila was in makeup.

Thankfully, one of the technicians with a grudge noticed, and helped him out. “Would you ever play competitively?”

Through the mirror, Plagg could see the lightbulb go off over Lila’s head. “You know, my grandfather was one of the chess masters of the world. He won lots of tournaments, and I’m sure he’d love to give you some pointers if you were interested, Adrien.”

The technician answered for him. “Chess? We’re talking about Magic: The Gathering. Two totally different games. The tournaments are pretty fun too, but I really enjoy playing at pre-releases. They usually only allow you to play with the set you’re buying, so you can’t look at them beforehand…”

Plagg beamed at the guy, thrilled with how quickly he had shut Lila down.

Lila, however, was undeterred. She met the eyes of the female stylist and just shrugged. “Boys, right? So, this weekend—“

“Shh,” the stylist hushed. “I’ve been trying for weeks to learn this game.”

Lila crossed her arms and sat silently for the rest of the session.

Once the models were all dolled up, they were escorted out to the set, and Giuseppe got to work with posing.

Here’s where Lila tried to make up for lost attention.

“Oh Giuseppe! I had such a wonderful idea for the shoot today! Since the gardens are in full bloom—“

“Which reminds me!” Plagg snapped his fingers. “Green-Black combination cards are really unique because they create a bunch of minions. Like, the cards in them have the ability to spam the battlefield with like a bunch of little guys called tokens that take a lot of extra work to get rid of. Well, like, not a ton of extra work, because they only have like one HP, but like, it's more work then you would have had to do. Wait, white, not black. Actually, I think white is the best at tokens, my mistake.”

Despite her best efforts, Lila could not suppress a full body eye roll.

It was exactly what Plagg was waiting for, and he jumped in for the finisher. He turned his sad kitten eyes to her, looking like Puss in Boots from Shrek, and asked, in the most pathetic voice he could muster. “Am I annoying you?”

Lila stared at him, as the staff and Giuseppe looked right at her, to see her response.

“I…I…” she stammered. “N-no, not at all, Adrien. I…love hearing about this game.”

He beamed. “Good! Because I have to tell you about my favorite combination of Blue-black. It’s really high in conditions and making things difficult for the opponents, right?”

Lila’s nostrils flared, but she held back any other sign of frustration. It was remarkable, really.

Plagg was quiet while Giuseppe gave directions, and during the actual shooting, but in between takes, when he didn’t have to be ‘professional’ he filled in the silence with whatever jargon he could find. He was wearing her down.

“Alright,” Giuseppe finally said. “We’re all done with you, Lila. Now it’s just Adrien’s solo shoot. But you can stay if you like.”

Lila was already halfway to the trailers. “I’m so sorry Giuseppe, I have somewhere I have to be this evening, so I’m going to head out. I’ll see everyone next time!” And she practically sprinted off set.

Once she left, Giuseppe gave a loud sigh of relief. “Now let’s get some real work done.”

—

Later that evening, when Adrien and Plagg had returned to the mansion, Adrien sat on the desk as Plagg scrolled online. Homework had been completed with ease, and it was still too early for bed.

“What are you reading?” Adrien asked.

“I’m trying to slog my way through the lore of that video game you like, the one with the Dragons. I have to have more ammunition the next time I deal with Lila. I almost ran out today.”

“Is that what I sound like?”

“What?”

“You today, when you were talking about Magic. Is that what I sound like to you? Do I ramble on?”

Plagg screwed up his lips in thought. “Mmmm, sometimes.”

Adrien hunched in on himself.

“But look. Culture and creative medium has grown astronomically in the last 200 years since I’ve been asleep. I want to know about what’s out there. I like hearing about things that you enjoy. Even if it is annoying sometimes, I still care about you. The reason I pulled this strategy is because Lila likes to talk, and she doesn’t like to listen. Even if I was talking passionately about something I knew a lot about, I doubt she would have cared. I hear how often she interrupts class.”

Adrien hadn’t thought about it like that.

“You know who Pavlov is, right?”

“Uh, the guy that did the experiment with the dog, right? He rang a bell and gave his dog a treat, and eventually the dog came to associate the bell with treats.”

“Precisely. Humans are the same way. Knowing this principle is the easiest way to win people over. You have to make them associate you with good feelings. If you treat people well, be friendly, courteous, and funny, eventually, people will like to be around you. The same works in reverse. If I can associate myself with frustration and annoyance for Lila, she won’t want to be around me. Being straight up mean to her won’t work because she’ll see that as a challenge.”

“So you have to be subtle,” Adrien concluded. “Thats…that’s genius.”

“I know.”

“So you don’t think I’m annoying?”

Plagg rubbed him between the ears. “I only found you annoying when you would complain about Ladybug, your dad, or Lila. But now, in your shoes, I’ve realized how easy it is to get frustrated about these things. But hopefully soon enough, you won’t even have to worry about it.”

Adrien smiled brightly. “Thanks Plagg. I hated this at first…but you really are making some progress.”

“Told you. Now, help me pack. You have your first sleepover tomorrow night.”

“My first sleepover, and I’m going to spend it crammed in a bag!”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #plagg #I'll handle this #fanfiction #adrienette

25 notes · View notes

nachotrash · 3 years

Text

MORE INCORRECT QUOTES WITH MY MOOTS

ft: @catchmewiddershins @lilikags and @paradise-creator // no haikyuu boys this time

Pauline: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Wid, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

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Pauline: We're having a baby. Shiyu: Oh, congradu- Wid, slamming adoption papers onto teh table: It's you, sign here.

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Pauline: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Shiyu, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Wid, whispering: Because I have little hands. Shiyu: Because they have little hands.

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Wid: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

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Lili: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

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Wid: Pros and cons of dating me. Wid: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Wid: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

(cons. you're the smart one😔)

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Shiyu: Sure, you're verified on twitter, but are you verified in the eyes of god?

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Pauline: Theater kids are just choir kids who joined forces with the band and strings kids.

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Shiyu: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

(*lipbites in 166 cm*)

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Wid: I don't dab. I stab.

(nOw WhEarE HAvE i SeEn ThIs BeFoRe)

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Shiyu: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(t-pose to assert dominance)

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

Shiyu, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because... Shiyu, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

(lmao baby nacho really be bold)

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Shiyu: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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

Lili: It's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged.

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Pauline: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

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Pauline: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Pauline: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

(we are the squad now)

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

Lili: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

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

Wid: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something. Wid: I need my socks.

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

Pauline: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

(yes yes you are how dare you)

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Shiyu: Yeah I'm LGBT. Shiyu: cuLt leader. Shiyu: God hates me personally. Shiyu: cowBoy hat. Shiyu: *sniffles* Trying my best.

(my asexual ass be like;)

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Wid: *plays shreksophone* Wid: Woo. Wid: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity. Shiyu: ...Genius coping mechanism my friend

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Shiyu: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Pauline: Killed without hesitation.

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Pauline: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

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Pauline: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

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Pauline: I hate Lili. Shiyu: "Hate' is a strong word. Pauline: I have strong opinions.

(oh no)

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Wid: How does that even work? Shiyu, mocking them: hOw dO yOu UsE a cOmPUteR aNd KnOw wHaTS GoiNg oN iT DoEsNt mAke SeNSe?! Wid: Your face doesnt make sense.

(...fair enough)

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Pauline: Get in, loser, we��re committing vehicular manslaughter!

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Pauline: My stomach growled super loud in French. Pauline: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Shiyu: Bonjour. Lili: Le growl. Wid: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

(reminds me of the 'ill speak french between your legs' tumblr legend and im wheezing)

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Shiyu: *tapping fingers on table* Lili: *taps fingers back furiously* Wid: …What’s going on? Pauline: Morse code. They’re talking. Shiyu: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Lili: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

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

Shiyu: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Wid, Lili, & Pauline: Okay. Shiyu: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Wid: Bold of you to assume I have money. Lili: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Pauline: Bold of you to assume I can die.

(pauline is a goddess. goddesses cant die)

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

Lili: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Wid: Strong. Shiyu: Weak. Pauline: An idiot, is what your are.

(as long as you dont flinch or scream youre strong. unless you get punched in the gut by someone like ushijima ofc)

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

Shiyu: Those darn tall old people. Wid: Darm em' indeed. Pauline: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough. Lili: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead. The Squad: Lili: Hahaha. Lili: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

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

Wid: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Pauline. They're mad at you. Pauline: No, it's Shiyu. They're just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Shiyu: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. Lili: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Shiyu: I stand by my choice.

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

Wid: What do we think of Shiyu? *pause* Lili: *sighs* Nice pal. Pauline: I think they're gay.

=------------

Wid: Where is Shiyu? Pauline: I'll do you one better, who is Shiyu?? Lili: Here's a better question, why is Shiyu?

(i dont know man. ive been trying to figure it out for the last few years)

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

Wid: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake? Wid & Lili: One, two, three- Wid & Lili: Chocolate cake, peanutbutter frosting, and chocolate chunks! Shiyu: Our turn, Pauline! One, two, three- Shiyu: Vanilla! Pauline: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

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

Pauline: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am- Wid: A doll. Shiyu: A cinnamon roll. Lili: A sweetheart. Pauline: Pauline: ...stop it.

(cant deny the truth bby)

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

Wid, Pauline & Shiyu: *screaming* Lili: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Shiyu?! Wid: Wait, why are you asking Shiyu that when Pauline and I are also here? Lili: Because Shiyu wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

(i mean... its true )

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

Pauline: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Wid: Fucking Shiyu and Lili were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

(manifests dvalin cause i wanna ride on their back and fall off)

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

Lili: Wake me up- Wid: Before you go go Shiyu: When September ends Pauline: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(cant wake up- WAKE ME UP INSIDE)

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

Shiyu, watching Pauline & Lili panic : What's going on? Wid: Pauline is having a midlife crisis and Lili is just having a crisis.

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

Lili: *Gasp* Pauline: wHAT?? Lili: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Pauline: *inhales* Wid, in another room with Shiyu: Why can I hear screeching?

(shiyu: same shit different day)

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

Shiyu: Christmas is cancelled. Wid: You can't cancel a holiday. Shiyu: Keep it up, Wid, and you'll lose New Year's too. Wid: What does that mean? Shiyu: Lili, take New Year's away from Wid.

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

Pauline: So, are they your friend or... Lili: They’re like Wid, but if Wid was ordered to be around you. Pauline: Oh, so Shiyu. Lili: Precisely!

(if its about how annoyed i always look then you ahve a point)

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

Wid: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Pauline: When have I been paranoid? Wid: Um, when you first met Lili you thought they were an undercover cop…? Pauline: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Wid: And last year you were sure Shiyu was a mermaid! Pauline: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! *Later, when Pauline’s theory is proven wrong* Wid: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Pauline: I still think Shiyu is a mermaid.

(id gladly be one)

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

*Wid drunkenly wanders around the manor and Lili is drunkenly giggling* Shiyu, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Pauline. Pauline, going to their room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

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

Wid: We need to distract these guys. Lili: Leave it to me. Lili: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Pauline & Shiyu: *immediately begin arguing*

(*pulls out dictionary*)

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

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Shiyu, with Wid and Lili behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Shiyu: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Shiyu: Pauline FUCKING FELL OFF!

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

Wid: What is love? Pauline: An emotional minefield. Shiyu: A neurochemical reaction. Lili: Baby don't hurt me.

(BECAUSE FUCK EMOTIONS)

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

Pauline: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Wid: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Lili: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Shiyu: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am no longer taking suggestions.

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

Shiyu, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Pauline: Gray. Lili: Grey. Shiyu, turning to Wid: Now tell them what color you think it is. Wid: Dark white.

#incorrect nacho

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

only fools rush in / part two: a botanical garden and deep conversations

hi there! this is part two of my college au, if you haven’t read part one you can click here to do so!

spotify playlist here

this chapter is centered around Remus and Patton, the other characters are very minimal here. so, don’t get mad about the lack of Virgil or Roman or anything (i miss them too, it’s okay).

read until the very end for a teaser and the title of part three!

TW: mentions of bad things happening to Roman during high school (no specifics... yet)

next update will be on Sunday, July 26.

---

“I don’t think that I can do this,” Remus was pacing in the living room, Virgil and Janus were sitting on the couch; they shared a look, and both of them rolled their eyes. “I mean, he’s so soft, and so cute, and he’s Roman’s roommate!” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “What if I mess this up and Roman gets hurt or Patton gets hurt, fuck fuck fuck!”

“Remus,” Janus started, his voice flat. “I don’t think that you’re going to fuck this up. Patton’s not like the other guys you’ve dated, he’s special, and I think you know that.” Remus groaned, glancing out the window. It was so late on Friday night that it had bled into Saturday, and he had been panicking for the majority of the night, which frustrated the other two who were trying to watch a movie. Eventually the TV had been shut off and their attention focused on their friend, who grew more disheveled as the night wore on.

“He’s right,” Virgil said quietly. “In the time we’ve known you, which is what, like, three years or something? Every person you’ve dated has been a total asshole. Kind of like you, but… worse,” Remus whined, and Virgil just shook his head. “That was a compliment, idiot.”

“I think what our emo friend is trying to say is that Patton isn’t like those other guys you’ve dated,” Janus continued, giving a dirty look to Virgil. “I’ve never seen you so panicked over a first date, so I think that means that this is… real for you. You’re going to take this one seriously.” Remus sighed then moved to lay on his back on the floor, eyes fluttering shut.

"Do I dress nice for my date? Or do I look the same as usual?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Patton was laying down, his head hanging off of the foot of his bed. Roman was sitting cross-legged on the floor and Logan was sitting on the desk chair, a yawn escaping as he rubbed his eyes. “What if I’m not what he wants me to be?” He hugged his stuffed animal frog closer to his chest. “What if it turns out that he doesn’t actually like me?”

“Ugh, I told you, Patton, he’s never acted this way around anybody, at least not that I’ve seen,” Roman said, annoyance coming through in his tone of voice. He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to make sure that Patton went on the date with Remus, but he did want to see his friend happy; and, as much as he hated it, he’d like to see his brother be happy, too. “He always dates these jerks who sell drugs or wear all leather and ride motorcycles. They treat him like trash and then throw him out onto the streets when they’re done.”

“Well, that doesn’t help!” Patton whined, curling up into a ball. “What if he wants me to be something that I’m not? Do you think he only wants to go out with me because I’m so different from the others he’s dated? How many people has he actually dated?” Patton’s tone was growing more high-pitched with every question. Logan adjusted his glasses, sighing.

“Patton, these are all illogical questions,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ve spent a little bit of time with Remus since he tends to be around when I’m with Janus, and I do not think that he would ask you to be his metaphorical crutch to figure out if he wants a softer partner. Additionally, why does it matter how many people he has dated?” Logan’s question was pointed, “What should matter is how you portray yourself to him on your date tomorrow so he sees the kind of person that you are. You want him to see the real you, right? Then that’s what you need to do.”

“But what if he doesn’t like the real me?” Patton asked. Of course Logan knew Patton’s intricacies, they’d been friends for so long, but the small man was always unsure if his overly logical friend meant it when he said they were best friends or if he was Patton’s friend out of convenience or just… circumstance.

“Why wouldn’t anyone like the real you, Pat? You’re awesome! And if he doesn’t see that I can knock some sense into him, lord knows I had to do that enough as a kid,” Roman scoffed, stretching his arms out. “I think that the more important question is… what are you going to wear tomorrow?”

Patton was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Standing near the entrance to the botanical gardens, he tried to stand on the tips of his toes to see if Remus was walking towards him, but he hadn’t yet caught sight of the biomed major. Patton had, of course, arrived half an hour earlier than they had agreed upon, but he thought that maybe Remus would show up early, too.

He hadn’t, but Patton didn’t mind. He kept fidgeting with the sleeves on his jean jacket and hoped it wouldn’t get too warm; he was wearing a floral shorts romper underneath but hated carrying around his jacket when it got hot out. As he continued to wait, he dug through his messenger bag, hoping Remus wouldn’t judge him for his polaroid camera. Patton loved taking photos with it; he hung all of them with clothespins on his fairy lights in his bedroom, so he was always surrounded by the people and things that he loved.

As he was leaning down to pull his knee-high socks back up since they were drooping, he heard some familiar footsteps. He looked up and saw Remus, dressed in his usual attire, smiling down at him. “Hey there, little flower,” Remus cooed, and Patton turned red immediately, returning the smile.

“Hi, Remus!” His voice came out a little more high-pitched than usual, but he was just so darn excited to see Remus. He wasn’t sure if he should hug the taller man, and hesitated for a moment. Remus gave him an intrigued look, and then Patton flung himself into his arms gently. Remus wrapped his arms around him softly, humming happily. “You’re softer than I expected.”

“Oh? Well, I can get hard if you’d like,” Remus teased, making Patton blush harder. The small man backed up, looking at Remus’ face and realizing it was a joke, so he smiled sheepishly. “So, have you ever been to this botanical garden before?”

“No, I didn’t even know it existed!” Patton responded, the two turning towards the entrance. It was a free walk-through, so they walked in, and noticed how few people were in attendance. Patton was surprised at how few people were there on a Saturday afternoon. He had so many questions for the other man, he wanted to talk about so many things, but never knew how to start conversations like that.

“How did you meet Roman?” Remus broke the silence as the two rounded a corner into an area filled with rose bushes. He leaned down to smell one of them and Patton did the same, smiling as he stood back up.

“We were in a general education class together last year. I think it was our public speaking class. And we were put together in a group,” Patton explained, walking close to Remus. “I was kind of pushy and we became friends since we have a lot in common. And then I introduced him to Logan, who I’ve known since elementary school!” Remus nodded, looking down.

“You have a lot in common with him, but…” his voice trailed off and he leaned against one of the fences, looking into the koi pond below. “Roman and I are very different. So… you and I might not have a lot in common, little flower.” Patton frowned, standing next to him.

“Roman’s not exactly my type, Remus. Yes, he’s become one of my best friends, but…” Patton paused, thinking of the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. “He’s loud, and animated, and theatrical and… it’s not what I would want in someone that I date.”

“And what is it that you want in someone you date, Patton?” Remus tilted his head, looking at Patton very carefully. The small man’s face contorted in deep thought, and he bit his lips, looking down.

“I… well, someone who is going to expose me to new adventures. I might look soft, Remus, but… I love doing things that make my heart beat fast,” he paused again so Remus could absorb this information. “I want someone who understands how special I can be… but also someone who I can pamper and love with all of my heart.” Remus didn’t say anything, and the two continued their walk through the gardens. Patton stopped him in front of a blooming tree and told him to pose, taking out his polaroid camera.

“Patton, I–”

“Please?” Patton asked, eyes sparkling towards the other man. Remus sighed, then leaned against the tree, giving a small smile to Patton as he crossed his arms. Patton took the photo, then held it between two fingers as it developed. “I have a whole wall of photos in my bedroom. Lots from high school with Lo, but some more recent with Roman, too. And… I wanted to add you, too.” Remus looked down at his feet, smiling softly. The two kept walking after Patton put his camera back in his bag, and Remus brushed his fingers against those of the other. They let their fingers intertwine, and Patton hoped that his hand wasn’t too sweaty. “Can I ask you something?” Patton asked hesitantly. Remus nodded, and the two sat down on a bench, their fingers still intertwined. “Why did you ask me out on a date?”

“Oh. Um…” Remus chuckled awkwardly, running his spare hand through his hair, tousling it up a little bit. “I see something really… unique in you. You’re this puff of pastel, but you’ve got these amazing tattoos,” he expressed this by running his fingers along the exposed tattoos on Patton’s arm. “And… you’re so kind. Everything I’ve heard about you from Ro and Jan… I’d always wanted to meet you. But Ro… he’s protective.”

“Of you?” Patton asked, and Remus laughed, more heartily this time, and shook his head.

“No. He’s protective of his friends,” Remus answered, and a flash of sadness crossed his eyes. “He was always the golden child. Our parents, our teachers, they always… preferred him. He could do no wrong.” Patton frowned, but said nothing as Remus continued to recall these moments. “I was a bit of a reckless one. I couldn’t sit still, I just wanted to crack jokes, and I played these hilarious pranks on Roman and our other classmates.

“When we got to high school, I… went off the deep end. I was hanging around the wrong kind of crowd, you know? And… they hurt Ro. Badly.” Remus looked down at his feet, shame crossing his face. Patton took his hands gently, waiting for the story to finish. “We kind of… broke after that. He never looked at me the same. He hated me, and I did too. So… yeah. He always wants to protect his friends; that’s why you and I hadn’t met until a few weeks ago. I had to prove to him that I was hanging out with better people, that I had become a better person.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton’s voice came out weak, and he was struggling to keep the tears from leaving his eyes. Sometimes he hated how sensitive he could get. “I’m glad that you’re… better… now.”

“Me, too,” Remus still hadn’t looked up. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of birds chirping and the babbling brooks keeping it from being completely quiet around them. “Tell me about why you got your tattoos,” he said finally, fingers still tracing the outlines of sunflowers and daisies.

“My mom is a florist,” Patton responded. He was looking off into the distance at the flowers in front of them. “So, I grew up in our backyard full of flowers, and I spent my summers in high school helping run the shop. When I thought about getting my first tattoo, I knew it had to be flowers.” He pointed to the large sunflower on his wrist. “Once I started with this one, I couldn’t stop. The flowers are bright, and remind me of sunshine and taking care of others.”

“And… that’s why you’re a child development major, isn’t it?” Remus asked. His eyes were focused on the intricate vines connecting all of the tattoos.

“Yeah… my mom took care of me and her garden, and… I want to take care of others, too,” Patton was smiling, and Remus resisted the urge to kiss him right there. But he didn’t want things to move too quickly, and he wanted to make sure that he had Patton’s consent before doing anything like that, so he didn’t say anything, and just kept his eyes on the small man. “Why did you choose biomed and medieval history?” The question brought Remus out of his own mind, and he blinked a few times before registering it.

“Oh. Well… I always liked the dissection labs in my science classes. One of my teachers noticed and… told me about biomed. I’d love to research new treatments, figure out what works and what doesn’t work, work in a lab…” he trailed off, and Patton just watched him with awe. “The medieval history was actually inspired by Roman. He doesn’t know that, though. But… he did this play in high school that was set during the medieval ages, and it just… piqued my interest. So I kept researching, and I want to learn more. Maybe I can do research into the intersections of biomed and medieval history someday.”

“I love how passionate you are about the things you’re studying,” Patton mused, his fingers holding tighter to Remus’. “Like… Roman and Logan are passionate about their areas of study, too, but… in a way that’s almost exhausting. The way you talk about your path is…” Patton’s voice faded out, the words failing him. He wished that he could express his words more clearly, or in a way that sort of made sense, but he wasn’t the best with conversations, he never had been.

“Should we continue our walk around here?” Remus said, breaking the silence again. He didn’t like the silence that kept coming back, but they had covered some really heavy topics, probably things that were too intense for a first date. He didn’t hate that they were talking about those things; he loved hearing what Patton had to say and how things were going, but… he wanted to do something to make his date laugh.

The two stood up from their spot on the bench and walked under an archway towards where there was a display of succulent plants. Remus wanted to hug and hold Patton so badly, but he resigned himself to just holding his hand, watching as Patton named each and every plant they passed as they kept going throughout the gardens.

They had eventually gone around in a full circle, most of their conversation lingering on the types of plants they saw around them, and had arrived back at the koi pond. Patton was leaning over the fence again, watching the colorful fish weave in and out of the way of each other. Remus stood next to him, watching, and when Patton looked up at him with that glimmer of adoration and just… hope.

“Patton, I…” he looked down at his feet, his face heating up. “I would really, um… like to kiss you. I-If that’s okay. I just, I don’t want to mess things up and–” Remus was interrupted by two hands holding onto his face, and before he knew it, he was leaning down, and kissing the softest lips he had ever touched.

“Goodbye, Remus,” Patton said softly, leaning up to kiss Remus’ cheek. “I had a really nice time today.” He smiled, hand on the doorknob to the apartment, and Remus gave him one last, lingering kiss.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, little flower,” the taller man said, and then Patton entered the apartment, closing the door behind him. His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard for the last few hours, the feeling of Remus’ hand in his and his lips on his own ingrained in his mind. They went to a cafe after the botanical gardens and indulged in iced tea and sandwiches and pastries, laughing and smiling and always touching in some way, even if it was just their feet brushing against each other under the table.

Remus wasn’t anything like what Patton had expected. He was still surprised at the choice of date locations, but Remus’ softness and openness towards Patton was a welcome revelation. But Patton had meant it when he said that he had a good time; it was the best first date he had ever been on. And he wished desperately for more.

“Hey, how did it go?” Roman was lounging on the couch, a script in hand, and Logan was sitting at the kitchen counter, working on his laptop. Patton tried to hold back his blush, but he smiled at the other two. “My brother was good to you, right?” Roman’s face was etched with concern.

“It was… absolutely amazing, Ro,” Patton felt his emotions gushing out of him as he set his bag down next to the entrance table. He went over to sit on the couch at Roman’s feet, and the other two followed him with their eyes, waiting for more information. “Remus is so sweet to me. I… I really do like him.” Roman said nothing, instead he just flipped the page in his script, and Logan sighed from the table.

“Roman believes you need to know a few things about Remus’ past before you go further in your relationship. I, however, believe that it should be up to Remus to tell you,” he explained, adjusting his glasses. Patton’s smile instantly turned upside down, but he nodded.

“Remus did tell me. About his past. About what happened. And…” Patton sighed, twisting his fingers together. “I’m sorry that all of that happened, Ro, but… it doesn’t matter to me. Who he is now is who I want to be with.”

“So… you’re going to go out with him again?” Roman asked hesitantly, peeking over his script. Patton nodded, and couldn’t help the small smile that he felt resurface on his face. “Well, I… I’m glad you’re happy, Patton.”

Remus opened the door to the apartment quietly. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, but Janus was in the kitchen, standing over the stove, presumably making dinner. Remus tried to be quiet, tried to just head straight (gAy) for his room, but Janus cleared his throat. When Remus turned to look at him, he was raising an eyebrow, arms crossed, leaning against the archway that led into the kitchen.

“How did it go?” He asked, and Remus looked down, smiling brightly. How could he put into words how amazing the day was? How many butterflies he felt when he was next to Patton, how no one had ever made him feel that way before. Remus looked back up at Janus, realizing that he hadn’t said anything, and shrugged.

“It was…” he still couldn’t find the words, but a string of what he figured to be incoherent sentences began to spill out. “Oh, Jan, you have no idea. He’s so… and I just… it was… I really like him.” Janus nodded, a small smile settling on his face.

“I’ve never seen you act this way, Remus,” he mused. “I’m… glad to see you this way.” Remus smiled at him, then retreated to his room. He glanced at the mess that was always prevalent, setting his backpack down next to the desk.

From his back jeans pocket he took out one of the many polaroid pictures that Patton had taken that day, one of them trying to take a selfie with the camera, Remus’ lips pressed to Patton’s cheek, a goofy smile pasted on the smaller man’s face. He found himself staring at it for a while, then he took his phone out of the pocket and sent a quick text to Patton: want to come over tomorrow?

---

teaser for part three: a dance, some shoes, and an audition

“Sorry. I got, um, a little carried away,” he explained, rolling and twisting the script in his hands.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, returning the smile. “Wouldn’t want you falling head over heels now would we?”

---

---

taglist (send an ask, reblog, or reply if you want to be added)

@winterrose42

@are-you-even–real

@shaded14space

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

[masterlist]

#amanda's sanders sides college au #amanda writes sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides college #sanders sides college au #intruality #ts patton #patton sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts intruality #prinxiety #loceit

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 3 years

Text

Wedding Colors (Part 4 — NSFW 🔥)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding. — There’s a lot of Haymitch in this one, including some of my headcanons about his backstory. The link to previous parts of this fic and the one preceding it is in my blog description.)

16:00—volunteering. Haymitch dropped into a chair in the corner of the dining hall, as far away from the commotion as possible. Worn-out, he was tempted to return to his quarters, but Effie was a magnet, pulling him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Thinking about it made him even more tired, so he just let it be. He leaned his head back and focused on a crack in the cement wall until his eyes closed.

“This life is gonna kill me, sooner rather than later.” The memory slipped out from the crack like gusts of wind whipping through the walls on an autumn night at home in the Seam. He’d crept into the kitchen to ask for a brick from the stovetop to warm his feet, but his father’s words stopped him in his tracks. Haymitch stood frozen in the shadows, watching his parents at the table with the remnant of a candle flickering between them. Wax dripped over the rim of the candleholder and pooled in a small circle on the tabletop. His father drank clear liquid from a glass while his mother darned a pair of socks.

“The days are growing short,” she said, “You leave for the mines before dawn, and you come home after dusk. You don’t see the sun all day, honey. It’s tough, but spring will come around again. It always does.”

“If we could make it across the border, there are jobs for metalworkers in 6. I’m still young enough to apprentice. I could build hovercrafts and railroads. Fya, we would have a better life. The boys would have a better life.”

“Those are impossible dreams. You know even if we could make it into 6 with the children, then peacekeepers would capture us there. They’d cut out our tongues, Lon. Or worse.”

Haymitch clamped his teeth onto his tongue, holding it in place.

His father swallowed the remainder of his drink and uncorked the bottle to pour himself another glass.

Fya reached past the liquor to caress his arm. “That’s enough for tonight, don’t you think?”

“It’ll be enough when I stop feeling trapped in this hellhole.”

She sighed, tying off the thread and laying the mended socks on the table. “Dailon...” When she used his father’s full name, Haymitch knew their discussion must be serious. “What if there comes a point when it’s never enough?”

Lon had no answer.

She moved behind him and stroked the nape of his neck. “Please come to bed. It’s been so long since we... I just... I miss you.”

His father leaned his head back into her hands and closed his eyes. “God, I’ve missed you too.” He took a swig from the bottle then replaced the cork. She kissed him, then blew out the candle.

Haymitch stayed a moment longer in the dark corner of the kitchen with his father’s words spinning in his mind, “This life is gonna kill me.” When he crawled back into bed, he tucked his cold toes against Denny’s footed pajamas and shared his sleeping brother’s warmth.

His eyelids grew heavy as he listened to the rhythmic clinking of windchimes on the porch. “Pa...” he whispered as he fell asleep.

***

“...Stay alive,” he mumbled as he came to consciousness.

Effie caressed his arm until his eyes opened. She had always loved watching him sleep — especially sleep caused by fatigue rather than an alcohol-induced stupor. She regretted having to wake him, but the dining hall was almost clean, and they needed to hang the garlands. NO ONE here gets “nap” tattooed on their arm, but Haymitch manages to fall asleep right out in the open.

He was disoriented several seconds until realizing where he was. Metal clinked in 13’s kitchen as the cooks made preparations for supper.

“Did I wear you out this morning?” Effie asked.

He reached for her and pulled her close. His hands were on her hips. His eyes were on her eyes, but he was far away. “I want a bottle so bad.”

She ran her fingers along his forehead, following the line of his knit hat. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Something like that.”

Dalton swept past them with a push broom. He paused briefly, observing their connection. “I’m cleaning up the last of the leaves, then I’ll be ready.”

Effie nodded in his direction.

Haymitch’s brow furrowed. “Dalton’s coming?”

“He offered, and he’s tall. He can preview the room too, since he’ll be performing the ceremony. It’s a win-win-win. We can manage without you if... there’s somewhere else you need to be.”

I don’t want to manage right now without you. “There’s nowhere else.”

“Peeta and Katniss?”

“They’re stable. And I use that term loosely.” Not feeling particularly stable himself, he didn’t want to let go of her. “You took off your *wig*,” he teased, noticing that the leaves Posy tucked into Effie’s head wrap were gone.

“No thanks to you!” She poked his chest. “I walked all the way to the daycare and back, and I passed at least three dozen people before someone finally mentioned it!...”

The image of her decorated as a tree pushed the vivid dream about his family back into shadow.

“...And don’t make me smile at you when you’re aggravating me!” she added.

How does she do that to me? How does she so often do exactly that?

***

17:00—Special Defense. “Please be careful!... Hold the garlands by the wire! Don’t compress the leaves!... Don’t let them touch the ground!” Effie was in escort mode from the dining hall, down the elevator, through the twisting corridors of Special Defense, all the way into the “wedding venue,” as she called it.

“They’re leaves, sweetheart. We just picked them up off the dirt this morning. There’s no law saying we get five lashings and have to burn them in ceremony like the flag of Panem if we let them touch the ground.”

“Attitude! This is about preserving ART!”

As Effie lead the way, Dalton raised his eyebrows behind her back.

“She grows on you,” Haymitch said, “Give it time.”

“Hmph!” Effie muttered for show. She was grateful to be facing away from them because her cheeks turned pinker than her sunglasses. For the thousandth time, she silently cursed 13 and its virtual prohibition of makeup.

The room was already prepared with the trees manicured and the grass freshly cut. Hundreds of folding chairs were strategically positioned, and walkways were clear in anticipation of dancing which Coin had not approved of but Plutarch was hoping would happen nonetheless. Ladders were waiting for them along the wall behind the spot where the bride and groom would exchange vows.

“Dalton, this is where you’ll be standing.” Effie positioned herself there, then pointed to the cement wall with a flourish. “And THAT monstrosity is what we are here to alter so the audience can see what beauty looks like.”

“I fear the bride is going to draw attention away from the decorations.” Dalton noted, and Haymitch chuckled.

“Well OF COURSE she will! With the help of Cinna — may he rest in peace — I am going to make her stunning!”

The reminder of Effie’s impending trip to 12 gnawed at parts of Haymitch that he didn’t want to feel. He reached into his pocket for his flask, which hadn’t been there since the moment he walked into 13. Old habits either die hard or not at all.

Beetee wheeled in to collect the leftover supplies and provide tubes of a concrete bonding agent that would attach the copper wire to the cement walls. “It’s a powerful adhesive. Two pea-sized drops side-by-side at each end is all that should be necessary. And it dries almost instantly.”

“Will it glue my fingers together?” Haymitch asked.

“Are you planning on gluing your fingers together?”

“No, but a lot of things happen that I don’t plan.” He gave Effie a pointed look which she didn’t know how to interpret.

“In that case, rub the bonding agent off with your hands themselves. The friction in combination with the oils from your skin will crumble the adhesive away.”

“Will it damage the floor if it drips?” Dalton joined the inquiry.

“It washes up with soap and water, which is also convenient if you need to reposition the wires. You’ll find a utility sink in the supply room down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Boys!” Effie interjected. “Proper attention to detail will avoid all of these problems! Beetee, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, the clock is ticking. Up, up, up on the ladders!”

The next half hour was filled with orders and adjustments. “Dalton, raise your end six inches. Haymitch, lower yours three. No, LOWER. A little to the left.”

“My left or his left?”

“We all have the same left! And use the adhesive sparingly so it does not show in the propo. That drop is NOT the size of a pea; it’s much too big!”

“Did Beetee mean a round pea or the whole pod?” Haymitch smirked.

“I’m pretty sure he meant the whole pod,” Dalton played along.

“And would that be a snow pea or a snap pea?”

“Or maybe he was talking about a sweet pea.”

“What’s a sweet pea?”

“They’re flowers. Gotta keep them out of the pasture because the seeds are toxic to cattle when consumed in large quantities—“

Effie huffed, jamming her hands onto her hip bones. She winced from the bruises still there but stubbornly refused to drop the posture.

Haymitch’s joking stopped. “You okay?”

“Frankly, I’m exhausted! Will you two PLEASE be serious, so we can finish this?”

“We’ve pissed off the commanding officer.” Dalton remained lighthearted.

“Once the wall is decked out in finery, we’ll be forgiven. Whenever I throw up on her shoes, I just wear something velvet the next day. That seems to work. I’m still alive.”

Effie tapped the floor with her toe. She lifted her sunglasses, and her glare was piercing blue. Each day that he’d known her, he’d seen this look in her eyes at some point or another. It never failed to turn him on. She pursed her lips, and he thought about how kissable she was without all that makeup.

Why the hell am I wasting time when I could be finishing this, and then doing that instead?

He squeezed two round pea-sized drops of adhesive out of the tube and worked as quickly as possible.

***

18:00—reflection. Effie could not recall ever thanking so many people in a single day and actually meaning it. After talking in the wind, hollering over the voices of the children, then giving directions in Special Defense, her throat was as strained as her body.

In silence, she and Haymitch walked together back to their quarters. Even though her room wasn’t anywhere near his, she kept walking with him. His pinky periodically brushed against hers. They let it happen, that intermittent connection, without stepping further apart or closer together.

“Are you following me?” He offered a lazy grin.

Posy’s response to Cord came to mind. “I’m not following you. We’re just going the same place.”

“And where would that be?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.” Her steps faltered, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to his hip and sliding his arm around her waist. “Your place is neater; mine’s closer.”

“Dinner is in 30 minutes...”

“We can practice rule 5, since we kind of fucked that one up last night. There was nothing quick about any of that.”

“We fucked it up quite good as I recall.”

Her whispering about it amused him like crazy. “Hmmm. I don’t *quite* remember.”

“Haymitch!”

“How about you remind me.” He opened the door to his quarters. “Or better yet, show me something new.”

He followed her inside and switched on the light. The door slid closed behind him, and he leaned against it. She heard the lock click as she stepped toward the table. They faced each other with the small room between them. All playfulness in his expression disappeared as he watched her intently like he did during that moment on the ladder.

Her eyes were fixed on his as she methodically took off her sunglasses and her bracelet, then untied her kerchief. She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting limp curls and letting them fall again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. He closed the distance between them and pulled a lingering leaf stem from her hair.

“I do have something new to show you.” She glanced at the bunks. The one he slept on was obvious. Wrinkled pajamas were tossed onto a tousled blanket and pillow. “But I have to lie down because the past 24 hours have worn me through to the bone.”

He scooped her up with an arm around her back and the other beneath her knees. She laced her fingers behind his neck. “Well, THIS is new.” Her smile changed the room. “Don’t give yourself a hernia.”

“I’d drop you before that would happen.”

She opened her mouth to retort, and he kissed her with the urgency of a day filled with waiting. Her tongue was soft and her lips gentle, slowing him down. After all, rule 5 hadn’t been her idea. She slipped her fingers under the edge of his hat, and it fell to the floor. His body tingled with her hands in his hair.

He carried her to the bunk and laid her down with awareness swelling inside him. Effie’s in my bed. For years, he’d pictured her in every bed he’d slept in, even on occasions when some woman or another was fucking him. He definitely thought of her when he was alone and too sober to avoid feeling lonely. Effie was there in his mind whether his dick was in his hand or not. Imagining her in bed with him was always about more than sex, even as he was denying it.

Now she was actually there, unzipping her pants and inching them down along with government-issued white cotton panties which she was probably mortified to wear. But the flash of them to him was as exciting as anything she would have on underneath layers of escort attire.

Her hips were indeed marked black and blue fading to yellow. “Effie...” When his touch went there first, there was no denying anything.

“Make it up to me.”

His lips brushed each bruise before kissing along her pelvis to silken folds, learning the flavors of her.

She was unprepared for the tenderness. She hadn’t expected it from him. A few licks was all it took before the sounds coming from her throat were unrecognizable.

The intimacy evoked a feeling of possession. His thoughts were all over the place. Damn, this is EFFIE. This is happening with Effie. This is where she should be. Not flying in a hovercraft over corpses. But in my mouth and my hands. With me. I want her with me. The pressure was intense. If he didn’t get out of his clothes he was going to come before she even touched him. He pulled away. “Give me a minute.”

“I’m close.”

“Me too.”

They unbuttoned their shirts at the same time. She opened hers and he tossed his to the floor along with everything else he was wearing. Rule 2 was her idea, not his.

He climbed into bed alongside her and slipped his arms into her shirt, around her waist. He held her tightly and kissed her breasts, dampening the fabric of her bra. He wanted it off, but there wasn’t time.

She stroked the length of him. “I want to kiss you here.”

“Oh, god. Save it. I need you now like this...” He rolled on top and positioned himself against her folds. “Like this...” She sucked in a breath as he slid all the way inside her and started to move.

“Ohh, like this...” She wrapped her legs around him and fell into rhythm with him.

“Damn, I want to kiss that mouth.” Fuck rule 3. Why did I suggest it?

“Save it,” she said, “Tell me what you feel.”

“You,” he groaned. His thrusts were hard and fast. “I feel you. Everywhere... Oh, god... Effie...”

Pleasure spiraled inside her. She could feel it building. Watching, hearing, feeling him come pushed her to the edge of something incredible. She held it a moment, then cried out and let it go.

They collapsed together, clinging. This time they’d followed the rules, but it hadn’t made a difference. He was into her. He was so damn into her.

“Haymitch...” She was panting, “This is... My god. What are we going to do?”

He nuzzled her neck. “How about more of this.”

“But I can’t control the way I’m feeling.”

“Shit. Why do you try to control everything?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“Fucking each other feels good—“

“It feels like morphling.” There was fear in her voice.

“How do you know what morphling feels like?”

“Everyone knows what morphling feels like!”

“What do they do in the Capitol... sell shots of it in bars? How did I miss that?”

“My appendix ruptured when I was 16. I received morphling post-surgery. For ten days, I felt warm and blissful, and on the eleventh day the IV was gone. It wasn’t long enough to become addicted, but it was long enough to know what I’d be missing.”

He held on, not loosening his grip. “We’ve been keeping all this inside a long time. We just need to get it out.”

“How am I going to feel then, when it’s *out*?” Empty? Alone?

“How should I know? How’d you feel the last time?”

“What do you mean?”

“The last time you fucked somebody, and it felt like this.”

“Sex has never felt like this before. Never like morphling. Has it for you?”

“I told you I don’t usually do this sober. ...Just once before.”

The memory crashed over him like a tidal wave. His girl had met him in the Meadow as the sun dipped below the trees. Their bark reflected the sky, and everything was golden. She wore the dress her mother laid out for her for the reaping the next morning. It was deep blue, like the irises she was named after. “Mama traded at the Hob for real indigo dye. She says it will keep me safe. I cut a strip of fabric from inside the hem.” She tied it around his wrist. “Now you’ll be safe too.”

Her long dark hair was pulled back in a yellow ribbon. It was the first thing he took off of her as they kissed on the blanket that he’d brought from home.

“Are you sure about this,” he must have asked her a dozen times.

“Yes,” was her answer, “Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said just before.

“You won’t. Just keep telling me how you feel.”

He moved slowly, so slowly inside her. Warmth enveloped him. She was everywhere at once. Along his skin, his flesh, stirring the core of him. “I love you.”

“Ohh, Haymitch, how long? How long will you love me?”

“I’ll never stop.”

“It’ll always be you for me too. I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever.”

***

“Only once?” Effie asked.

He let go of her abruptly, as if she were poison. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He left the bed, picked his clothes up off the floor, and pulled them on as quickly as possible. He didn’t look at her. He was terrified to look at her.

“Something is wrong.” She shivered from evaporating sweat and the rapid withdrawal of his warmth. “Haymitch, what’s wrong?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

Shut out. Empty. Alone. Effie was already feeling it all effacing the vestiges of her orgasm.

“You should get dressed too,” he said curtly, “We’re late.”

“I don’t know if I’m hungry.” She refused to let tears show in her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.

“Well, I’m hungry. If you figure it out, then I’ll see you at supper. Close the door behind you when you leave.”

And with that he was gone. What just happened? She didn’t understand.

“Shit.” Haymitch muttered as he walked through the corridors. “Damn it!” His hands were shaking.

He could feel the fucking *morphling* in his veins the way he’d felt it when he was 16. If he let himself feel that much — this much — for Effie, and if he lost her, then how the hell would he keep staying alive?

This thing with her has got to stop. It has to stop right now. The thought was nauseating. If his stomach weren’t empty, then he would have vomited on the concrete floor.

The drink he sorely needed was nowhere to be found in that hellhole. “This life is gonna kill me, sooner rather than later.” He was haunted by the memory of his father’s words.

#HayffieFics #hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #district 13 #wedding colors #dalton #Fia Abernathy #dailon Abernathy #Iris #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games

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mykingdomforapen · 4 years

Text

TALENTED SOLDIERS NEEDED

The 8th is undermanned of sufficiently capable soldiers

PBI in desperate need of highly skilled, dependable, valued servicemen to enlist to vastly improve war effort and company success

Must be clever, high-spirited, quick on their feet, good sense of smell, and have a satisfying tail-wag

Humans need not apply

Blake narrowed his eyes at Schofield over the top of his copy of The Daily Dugout. Schofield was too busy rubbing the ears of the local casualty dog—a well-mannered border collie—to acknowledge him.

“You’re bloody insane,” Wilco had said when Blake confided in him his suspicions during the last edition of the Dugout. “You think Schofield is the one writing the adverts? I don’t think Schofield even talks.”

“I’m telling you,” Blake said feverishly over that night’s rations. “Sco’s quick as a whip, and he had read a lot of books—“

“Tragedies, by the look of him.”

“Children’s poems, Wilco. Those are full of word play and silly stories.”

Wilco looked over Blake’s shoulder towards Schofield, who sat separately from the rest of the unit to silently darn his socks. Even Blake had to admit that Schofield, who was glaring at the hole in the wool as if it was responsible for this war, looked as well versed in happy prose as Victor Hugo.

“Hides it well under that glare, doesn’t he?” Wilco said.

“Exactly!” Blake said. “Of course he has to, else the commanding officers will give him a proper lashing, they would. Has to keep it anonymous.”

“I’ve never even seen the bloke read a single copy of the Dugout.”

Blake frowned. This much was true. Schofield claimed that he wanted to save his money for a coveted bar of French chocolate, wherever the hell he was going to get that, and he would only read the Dugout’s poems and articles, and never comment on the adverts even when they made Blake howl with laughter.

“Bastard’s humble, innit?” Blake supposed. “Doesn’t need to bask in his anonymous fame—oh, shove off!” He said when Wilco rolled his eyes. “If you knew him as well as I do you wouldn’t be the least surprised.”

“If you can prove it, I’ll give you the next parcel that Ada sends me,” Wilco said.

Motivated by the promise of sweets and socks (although he will have to be careful about any hair products that Wilco’s sweetheart may send over), Blake took in a deep breath and strode up to Schofield. The border collie gave Blake a delighted sniff of the hand.

“Say, Sco!” Blake said. “Today’s edition is funny as hell, don’t you want to read it?”

Schofield looked up to Blake with a gleam in his eye that was mostly exasperated but Blake swore was at least a little bit amused.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Schofield said. The border collie was lying on its side for a belly rub now.

Blake was momentarily sidetracked already as he too crouched to rub the dog on the belly. She reminded him of Myrtle, whom he missed.

“She and you have gotten along, haven’t you?” Blake said. “Glad we have her with us. She really adds to the company. Isn’t she a clever dog? She’s certainly good company, isn’t she?”

“How am I supposed to answer three questions at once?” Schofield said.

“Better company than humans, don’t you say?” Blake said.

Schofield stares at Blake with a look of almost disappointment, as if he had expected better trickery than this.

“That’s very grim of you. Have we geezers been rubbing off on you already, Blake? Keep it up and you’ll be cured of your goodwill towards man in no time. Short life expectancy, that ailment.”

Blake had a dilemma. Because he knew that Schofield’s sense of humour coincided nearly with that of the Dugout, but unless he was able to record it somehow then Wilco wouldn’t count it as proof. So, casually, he took out his paper and pencil from his kit.

“What are you doing?” Schofield said.

“Nothing,” Blake said hastily. Cured of goodwill towards man short life expectancy—he scribbled on the paper. That would have to do. “Just writing a letter to Mum, that’s all.”

Schofield gave Blake a blank stare before returning his attention to the casualty dog, all decked in her little Red Cross kit.

“Oh, blast it!” Blake said. Before Schofield could look up, Blake tore the paper. “I was holding onto it while I tried to move it and didn’t realize it! You wouldn’t happen to have your notebook on you, would you, Sco?”

Schofield reached into his kit for his pad of paper. As he took it out, Blake quickly reached for it, hoping to see scraps of first draft writing, or rejected jokes, or even torn bits of paper where Schofield scratched something out or tore off to give to the equally elusive editor of the Daily Dugout. Instead, Schofield tore off a clean sheet of paper to hand to him.

“Oh,” said Blake.

“What?” Schofield said.

“Nothing,” Blake said, taking the paper with disappointment.

Schofield shrugged. He took his notepad, picked up his kit, and got onto his feet.

“Where are you going?” Blake said immediately. Was Schofield going off to secretly write more material? “Mind if I tag along?”

“Only if you need to take a piss as well,” said Schofield

Blake’s face reddened.

“Oh—no,” he said. “Not at all.”

Schofield gave Blake a long stare.

“You’re strange, Blake,” he said.

As he turned to leave, Blake swore that he saw a hint of a smile on Schofield’s face.

#1917 #LC writes #don't ever let me do this again #I was waiting in the doctor's office for what felt like a considerable amount of time #thank goodness for the google docs app on phones

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the-musical-cc · 5 years

Text

OK Sally headcanons (under the cut because this is gonna be long) :

I keep finding encountered versions on what she’s made of- either just rags or bits of flesh and cloth or different body parts- so I pretty much am making my own: Finkelstein HAD experimented with reanimation of dead parts but found fresh parts to be rather hard to come by, so he decided to experiment on providing life to materials that weren’t meant to be alive. Somewhere along that road, he begun to feel like it’d be nice to have someone to care for him, so he mixed both ideas into the creation of an ‘Ideal partner’ made from materials that weren’t necessarily organic- eventually, this project became Sally. He provided a soft heart made from marshmallow so that she would easily love him and a brain made from sponge so that she’d be a fast learner, filled her limbs with the dead leaves of Halloweentown’s trees to root her to the land (And because it doesn’t seem like Halloweentown inhabitants are familiar with plush?) (And yes, it IS a bit ironic that a lot of the elements of Sally’s built relate to principles of magic rather than science, but it’s part of the idea. Finkelstein isn’t really half as smart as he thinks he is.)

Sally was, of course, alive by the end of the experiment, but she didn’t seem half as interested in Finkelstein as in everything in the castle- well, that’s good, he figured, she is curious and she’s definitely a fast learner and the sooner she learns how to do things, the better. Downside being- he himself has no idea of how to do most things he built her for. What to do? He figures he can kill two birds with one stone: Introduce her to the townsfolk and have her learn different things from them that can come in handy.

Sally, on her part, isn’t really trying to snuff Finkelstein or anything of the sort, she’s just- new to everything and eager to see all she’s been missing on. So when he tells her he’s gonna have her meet some new people she’s delighted.

They didn’t use to get along that badly at first. Sally was sweet and caring enough and Finkelstein was sort of high on the success of his experiment, so he didn’t use to mind her over-eagerness and restlessness that much. Sally, on her own part, had obvious affection and gratefulness towards him for creating her, and didn’t know enough yet to crave freedom or resent his control over her.

The Halloween Town citizens aren’t really half as surprised by the new inhabitant as they probably should- even though the Mayor was the only one who even KNEW he was making a girl. They gladly agree to show her the ropes.

Witches taught her to cook, which is why she knows how to work with poisons and magic herbs, as well as where to find them.

The vampires taught her to keep a house- that is, the Halloweentown equivalent, which includes a lot less cleaning and a lot more feeding the spiders and keeping the ambient gloom.

She’s a self-taught seamstress. Had to sew herself back together a couple of times on the first days because Finkelstein’s original stitches weren’t that good. Thanks to this, she realized she rather liked sewing.

She also made her own dress. Finkelstein had originally given her something similar to what he gave his ‘Soulmate’ at the end of the film, but she didn’t find it practical enough to move in. The Mayor actually gave her the stripped socks, which are typical Halloweentown wear.

She met Zero before she met Jack while on her way back to the castle from her daily cooking lesson. Zero had to teach her how to play fetch and once she got the hang of it, they played for a while- this was the start of Finkelstein’s reservations about letting her go out because she took longer than usual and he begun to realize she might actually not want to spend all her time cooped up if she saw enough about the outside world. This resulted in their relationship becoming tense because Sally had been curious and restless from the start, but he’d only then begun to have a problem with it, which obviously confused and frustrated her.

This was actually also the first time Jack saw her- no, look. LOOK. Hear me out. Jack saw her from afar when she was playing with Zero- he’d been looking for the doggo but upon finding him having so much fun, decided to let him play a bit longer, keeping a distance as to not interrupt. Sally was the one to stop the game once she realized how late it was, running off. Jack didn’t get to ask her name.

(I’d like to say it was love at first sight but- really, he just was sort of surprised to see someone he didn’t know around town and playing with his dog. And the fact that Zero was all over her. He did find her pretty, though.)

Enter the events in ‘The Pumpkin King’ and Jack finally gets to learn WHO she is, exactly. This is also Sally’s first time seeing him.

I KNOOOW it’s generally regarded that Sally fell in love with him on first sight after he saved her but I think she may simply have developed a crush at that point.It’s also the first time she realizes there is a difference between types of affection and that what Finkelstein wants her to feel about him is closer to what she feels for Jack.

Sometime later, Dr. Finklestein -oblivious to Sally’s crush because he’d have to be actually paying attention to realize what was going on- asked Jack to allow her into his library for educational purposes.She asks too many questions and he doesn’t have the answers for all of it- not when she’s asking about things that require emotional intelligence rather than scientific knowledge. Jack agrees, of course. During this time, they get to know each other better. Jack is used to blind compliance and continuous praise, but Sally doesn’t provide it because she has no notion that she should; and he realizes he rather likes it. When she does comply and does praise him, he actually feels like he’s earned it. He likes that she’s as restless as he is, and that her curiosity makes him consider things from angles he hadn’t even thought of. He likes talking to her and is comforted by the fact that if he isn’t feeling like it, she doesn’t demand it. On her part, Sally is just now getting a taste of what companionship can feel like when it’s not obsessive and controlling. Jack allows her to roam freely, answers her questions as best as he can and allows her to look into whatever she’s interested in- be it useful for her role at Finkelstein’s or not. She gets to see some sides of him no one else has- because no one else has spent hours sitting on his studio in silence with him working through plan after plan, talking to himself. Seen how his face lights up when he’s come up with something good. Allowed him to slip into a role that’s truer to who he is rather than who the Town needs him to be. By the time Finkelstein decides she’s had ‘Enough education’, they’ve become rather close. Sally’s crush has evolved into love and Jack may be nursing the same kind of feeling for her but he’s too much of a numbskull to realize at first.

Close enough, actually, that Jack ‘Looks the other way’ when he spots her out and about on the street even though Finkelstein’s obviously against it.

(Actually most of the town does this. Did I see Sally? Here? Why, no, Doctor! Are you sure she isn’t in your attic, feeding the spiders? Meanwhile, Sally deadass naruto runs behind them.)

Spiral Hill becomes her favorite hiding spot because Finkelstein can’t really roll in there to look for her. It’s not very wheel-chair friendly.

No one really bats an eyelash to the constant scenes between them because they know deep down the Doctor isn’t all that bad- everyone figures at some point they are going to find a middle ground and all will be well.

((I’m not sure of WHAT they think about the evident fact that the Doctor wants Sally for a wife while she looks upon him as a guardian at most- part of me thinks he never did clarify this to anyone so they innocently assumed he shared the same feelings and was just being an ‘Over-protective parent’ with her.))

Jack does know, though. And as much as it saddens him, the thought that Sally might not want to be with Finkelstein never really crosses his mind. He thinks the only source fo the conflict to be how restrictive he is and that they’ll eventually solve it. This is why the minute he sees the Doctor with his new companion at the end of the film, he immediately looks for Sally in the crowd- he knows this means she’s free.

The Mayor prrrobably knows and prrrobably isn’t chill with it, but keeps putting off that conversation with the Doctor because he’s got so much work to do. What? No, it’s not also because it’s uncomfortable as fuck to talk about. It ends up solving itself without his intervention, though, and he can breathe easy on the matter and go back to obsessing over plans.

Sally is actually not that great at scaring kids. Finkelstein made her pretty by Halloweentown standards, which normally would mean she’d be pretty darn scary, but thanks to her personality she’s only mildly unnerving at most by human standards.

She and Santa are pen pals.

Lock, Shock and Barrel actually like her quite a lot and were a teeny bit sorry to see her at Oogie’s lair with Santa. Consequently, a teeny bit relieved when Jack saved her.

This is stupidly long already, let’s just leave it at that.

#the nightmare before christmas #tnbc #sally ragdoll #headcanoning

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pcttrailsidereader · 3 years

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Over Compensating

Howard Shapiro

I have been randomly re-reading through some of my past journals from PCT hikes. There are numerous reflections, feelings, goals, and an over riding sense of awe and wonder as to where I am, who I am with, all the while trying to make sense of what it all means. No matter how gloomy it looks outside, rereading these passages helps to put me right back on the ‘sunny side’ of the trail. Even if I am reading about a slog in the rain my mood brightens recalling how I made it. I eventually dried out, I kept on going and then some.

Another theme that I notice throughout the many decades worth of writings is how I approached every section and ultimately every day and night on the trail. I have consistently over compensated in a variety of ways. That got me wondering what that was/is all about? Obviously there is a fear factor involved. The ‘what ifs’ and associated worst case scenarios fill that corner of my imagination. Unfortunately for me, that is not unique to the PCT. There are other parts of my life where that same fear factor crawls out from under my bed or out of my closet.

Fear is real and irrational. Sometimes simultaneously and sometimes very separately. I am no psychologist or psychiatrist but I do know that fear can be powerful. Fear does not have to be complicated either. If it were, then as little kids the dark would be nothing. Add in a one or a few more elements and fear gets more complex. As I examine my own fears I realize that there is more than one answer to my question.

Part of my fear centers on failing. That certainly falls under the ‘what if’ category. What if I get really bad blisters? What if I run out of food? What if the tent leaks? Then there is the ultimate ‘what if’, what if I don’t complete my hike? And on and on, you get the picture. My imagined or assumed failure has something to do with my level of preparedness and something to do with fate. No matter how many times you change your socks you may still get blisters. People do get sick and have to leave the trail. Things happen no matter how prepared one is and often they are out of our control. The ‘fates’ take over.

Setting fear aside, there are other over compensations that I have made and continue to make. Some of these are sound and I won’t change them while others appear to have evolved over time. For example, on my first effort on the PCT the clothes I packed , and there were a lot, were far different and fewer from those that are on my list today. As comfy as that gray ragg wool sweater was it left the list and the building along with Elvis. Those heavy leather hiking boots have pretty much walked themselves out of my life. At the time they had a place but today not so much. To compensate I have gone to lightweight hikers and hiking poles. Instead of wool I tend toward polyester.

Then there is water. I often find I don’t drink enough but never want to get caught out. In 2015 Rees and I found ourselves hiking a really dry section toward Walker Pass. It was hot, it was dry, and the water sources minimal. The next two years I walked the southern sections from Campo. The dry memories of 2015 stuck with me. I was not going to ‘die of thirst’ or dehydrate...no way!

Darn them and thanks to many kind trail angels there were water caches as I walked north. I didn’t want to count on them however I am eternally grateful for every last one. No dehydration or even the slightest hint of dying from lack of water. Still, I likely carried more water than I needed.

I also carry more food than I probably need as well. This is due to a combination of a fear of starving (irrational) and liking food (reality). Balancing that has always been a challenge. Some of the worry around food likely stems from reading too many survival stories where a lack of food played a pivotal role. Two thoughts come to mind around food. First being holed up in a tent while a Sierra thunderstorm threatened and hearing two hikers checking out a nearby bear box for any left behind food. There was none and they likely didn’t draw straws to see who was ultimately going to eat who. They survived I am sure but I NEVER want to find myself in their position.

The second thought is from a few years ago hiking out of the Whitewater area. I had just resupplied and was going alone for about twelve days toward Cajon Pass. I had it all and then some! There was plenty of food and lots of water along with everything else. I came up onto a ridge and met another hiker. We exchanged greetings and then he called it like he saw it and said, ‘You are not going light, are you?’ I know what I was thinking I wanted to say but could I say? I simply acknowledged his observation and shuffled along under the weight of my pack and my over compensation.

In these times of incredibly low ‘base weights’, going without a stove, etc. I feel like I am sailing into a headwind as I try to come to terms with my over compensation. I keep trying to trim things down and consider what I really need verses what I think I need or may need. There is a picture of me on the first day of my first PCT hike. My back is bowed since my pack weighs slightly half less than I do. My stomach sticks out and I look overweight. Well, I am but not my physical self. The combination of my pack and my mental over compensation have paired up against me. All these years later, I am doing much better but compensation for every possibility can be overwhelming. Over compensating can be a validation and hinderance. that requires me to balance the two.

All my over compensation does serve some purpose even though I cannot readily or consistently defend it. On one hand it got me to where I am. On the other hand it may have slowed me down. I know over compensation and it is a relation but not always a friend. It is a companion but not always welcome. It is woven into my life on and off the trail. In fact I hear it calling me from my closet or is it under my bed? I better go look.

#Whitewater #Base weight #Packing lists #Water caches

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jikook-is-soft · 5 years

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JIKOOK FIC REC

I made this whole thing once before and accidentally deleted it and had to do it all over so RIP me. This time there will be less oneshots but that’s because I’ve read a fuck ton of chaptered fics this year so get ready.

ONESHOTS

The Arrangement: Jikook are roommates in the BTS dorm and often find themselves sleeping in the same bed. the problem is Jungkook keeps waking Jimin up with his morning wood. Jungkook is in denial about his gayness and Jimin is hiding his until they come up with a little plan. Jimin will help him get rid of his boners so that Kookie’s sexual frustration will go away and stop waking Jimin up in the morning simple right? This is low-key really hot but I wish it was longer.

A Knight’s Duty: Who doesn’t love a little porn with a plot am I right? Jungkook is in charge of guarding the crown prince Park Jimin, and it’s no secret that Jimin likes to get up to more than inappropriate things with the pretty knight. Read it read it read it

Thigh Highs: This one is super cute and super hot all at the same time. Jungkook comes home to find Jimin wrapped up in blankets and christmas lights. When he asks Jungkook to unwrap him he finds that Jimin is only wearing a t shirt and some thigh high socks. I swear this is some actual shit that Jikook would do, it makes me giddy.

Live in Osaka: oh boy I LIVE for this oneshot. It’s based on the iconic vlive where Tae cock blocks Jikook by coming into Jungkook’s hotel room. you know the one “Jungkookie isn’t wearing any clothes” and Jimin hiding in the bathroom, yeah that one. Anyway this fic does a good job of describing the gay chaos that was this vlive.

The Adventures of Jikook boyfriends: Okay this is precious. It’s a series of 12 oneshots in which Jikook are domestic as fuck. It’s so cute and fluffy (with the tinniest hint of smut) and definitely worth the read.

White T-shirts and Brown Timberlands: shit. yes. okay. I swear this is an emotional rollercoaster. It made me laugh and cry and smile. Jimin and Jungkook have been together for eight years and Jimin realizes that it’s finally coming to an end as he holds the divorce papers in his hands. YOU GUYS, if this doesn’t hook you right away I don’t know what will. Don’t worry it has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it won’t make you cry.

Okay those are the only really good oneshots that I’ve read in a while so now on to the juicy stuff, the Chaptered fics. There’s actually so many of these that I’m not sure I’ll even have time to put them all down but I’m going to try my darn best.

CHAPTERED FICS

Comfort in lies: First things first TRIGGER WARNING there is rape and non consensual activity in this fic so if that bothers you in any way this may not be the one for you. That doesn’t dominate the whole story though. It’s canon compliant and is mostly about how Jungkook and Jimin come to terms with their feelings for each other. It made me cry big time just a warning. Their relationship in this is so pure and precious and not toxic like a lot of fics. Highly recommend this one (36 chapters)

Like Fire, Like Stone: YES YES YES. This is yet another fic that made me bawl like a little child. It’s a shadow hunters AU but don’t worry you don’t need to know the show to enjoy this (I’ve never seen it and still love this fic). Jimin and Jungkook are childhood best friends that become each other’s Parabatai which is a bond made between two soldiers that connects them spiritually in order to help them in battle. The thing is parabatai are forbidden from being anything more than platonic, which is very hard for Jungkook when he starts to realize he may feel more for Jimin than he should. Please read this, it’s so good. (12 chapters)

High For This: It’s easy to grasp. Jimin is a stripper and a certain young Jungkook starts to pay for all his time. It’s here that Jungkook convinces Jimin to be his BDSM sub. This is cute and sexy and also angsty. But still good check it out (18 Chapters)

All Your Glory: Fucking yes, this is so great. Jungkook and Jimin are both from rich powerful families that also happen to be sworn enemies. The two are supposed to hate each other and they somewhat do when they aren’t fucking each other’s brains out. Fuck buddy AU meets enemies to lovers AU meets business men AU. it’s fucking good okay? Read it (11 chapters) +a second part to the series.

Whiskey: out of all the fics I’ve read in the past couple months this one stands out in my mind a lot. All I have to say is that if you read this please please listen to the music that goes with it because it’s an experience. Jimin is an omega cam boy but even with all the thirsty alphas watching him Jimin won’t ever succumb to his natural instincts, he’s independent and doesn’t need an alpha. However that changes when one of his viewers sends in his shirt and his smell sends Jimin into heat. this fucking hot and Pyscojimin has a twisted little mind that I love. (15 chapters)

crushes are the plague (and I caught your fever): Jungkook is the school bad boy and everyone knows that he has a reputation. However what people don’t know is that he’s dating the school angel and class president Park Jimin. this is so freaking cute but also really hot and I love it so much. (30 chapters)

Longing: a yearning desire: cry’s in Jikook. This is a soulmate AU in which the first words that your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist when you turn 18, unless your soulmates has already died. When Jungkook turns 18 his wrist is blank. This is really beautiful and Jimin is so soft here? I love love love this one so check it out. (11 chapters)

Cherry: AAAHHH. Good old ABO fic. This is actually the sweetest thing it gives me butterflies inside. Jimin and Jungkook are childhood neighbors and best friends. When they are young they can’t help but sent each other and nuzzle into each other’s necks even though their parents get angry and try to stop them. Jungkook likes that Jimin smells like cherries. This is so freaking good you guys. there’s fluff and smut and angst and everything nice. (25 chapters)

Where you Belong: if Daddy kink makes you uncomfortable do not read this fic. I personally find this one absolutely adorable. Jimin thinks that he may be a little and decides to sign up for a website in order to find a daddy where he meets Jungkook. (There isn’t really any age regression here it’s mostly just Jimin being fragile and soft). It’s very sweet and soft (30 chapters)

(my heart beats) for you: Oh my God this one is so freaking cute. Jungkook becomes friends with Park Jimin who gets bullied at school. He thinks Jimin is the most adorable boy he’s ever laid eyes on from the day they meet and well into their older years. This warms my heart. There’s fluff and smut here which is a perfect combo. (4 chapters)

Times Six: Okay I am SO SORRY. I know this is utter filth and completely fucking crazy but I HAD to add this fic. I don’t want to go into too many details and keep you from being surprised. Jungkook gets chosen for a super secret scientific project. As it turns out, super genius Park Jimin has succeeded in human cloning. When I say this is udder filth I really don’t say it lightly so please be cautious and good fucking luck to anyone that reads this one. (5 chapters)

Falling for you again: Okay I remember reading this but I don’t actually remember if I liked it or not. I think I might have? who knows I read too much fanfiction. Anyway Jungkook gets into a car accident that leaves him badly damaged and erases his memory, specifically the memories of his boyfriend Jimin. The tags say happy ending so I assume that this one won’t make you cry too much....(4 chapters)

Into You: I read this a long time ago but I do remember liking it. Jimin is a very famous model and Jungkook is his bodyguard, but the fans don’t have to know that they are actually much more than that. There’s fluff and there’s smut and there’s angst so what more do you want. (7 chapters)

Expiration Date: Yes yes yes, a million times yes. I’m just going to add part of the actually story summary because they can put it into words better than I can “The age old story of two people that love each other so much that they are reincarnated because their bond is stronger than death. Take that, multiply it by 20, and switch the word love with hate.” Basically Jimin and Jungkook are like the opposite of lover soulmates. They are reincarnated and in every life they find each other, but the thing is once they meet all their memories of their past lives come back and they only have three months to live before they die and have to start it all over. THIS IS SO GOOD READ IT (30 chapters)

Appetite For Stars: Okay so you’re going to read the summary for this one and go “what the fuck”, but hear me out. The first chapter is defiantly uncomfortable so let’s get that shit out of the way. The second chapter is the reason that this fic is on here and don’t worry their is no pedo shit or underage sex. The second part to this fic is something I find very interesting so don’t get turned off by the first part. I”ll let you dive into this one alone (2 chapters)

Redo: Gonna be honest don’t remember this one too well, it was pretty far back in my ao3 history. Jungkook tries to get over his ex by having a one night stand and soon finds out that that one night stand just so happens to be his new roommate. (7 chapters)

Mono no aware: Ah the old “We were married and got a divorce so I haven’t seen you in years but suddenly you show up in my life again trope”. I think you can probably guess how this one goes, I highly recommend (10 chapters)

Tastes like victory: Why are there so many fics where Jimin is like a fragile stripper? Where does that even come from? But this fic is still really good, Jungkook is an underground fighter that meets Jimin, he teaches him how to defend himself from some nasty clients. (13 chapters)

Twelve: A New Chance: This one has a very interesting concept. For every person that you fall in love with it leave a mark on your skin. Gold is the most rare meaning that person is your soulmate. Black means mutual love, you may not be destined for each other but you’ll love each other none the less, and red means unrequited love. So far Jimin has 11 red marks. (13 chapters)

Coconut Head and McThiccens: Holy SHIT. Okay this might be my favorite fic on this list. I kid you not this is one of the softest and cutest jikook fics I’ve read in my life and I can’t believe I only found it recently. Jungkook is super boring and emotionless, almost like a robot. Jimin is the asshole of the school that everyone avoids because they know that he’ll tear the shit out of them if they get too close. However, Jungkook seems to be immune to anything Jimin does no matter how hard he tries to get a reaction, it frustrates Jimin. please please please read this oh my God you won’t regret it. It’s not finished yet there are still two chapters to go, but the author is updating soon (33/35 chapters)

Alrighty I think that’s the end of this Jikook fic rec. There are more chaptered fics that I didn’t add to the list just because they weren’t special enough for me to remember/recommend. Enjoy all the jikook!

#jikook #jikook fic rec #fic rec #bts #bts fic rec #Jikook fluff #jikook smut #bts fanfiction #jikook fanfiction #here is the jikook fic rec that I promised I hope you enjoy

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kylagabrielle22 · 4 years

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“Excruciating Reminiscence”

On the morning of 27th of June, 2015; it was very gloomy and dull to start the day. I stepped outside to our backyard and viewed an aurora firmament that was the tincture of holocaust near the horizon. The ground was cracked underneath my feet and the breeze was humid; it had not rained in a month already. Dust stuck to my ultra-boost Adidas shoes as I made my way to our neighborhood to begin my usual morning jog.

Everyone knew me as an ambitious woman, calling me names such as “Bridget Jones in-your-face” but I knew myself better that I was a sophisticated lady even if I was that aggressive when it comes to my aspirations. I was kind of lean, with dark, long, frizzy, and wavy auburn hair and my skin was tanned since I was young. I had squint lines at the corners of my hazel brown eyes gained by a memoir spent beneath the sun; at twenty-two, now and then I wonder whether I could decide and have the life in the metropolitan or in the bush I had chosen.

The daytime was already becoming tepid and the sun was reflecting much light luminously. So, I twirled up the sleeves of my button-up, dry fit Adidas shirt. I wore my usual bluish and faded jogging pants which had grown cottony and cozy over the years. Actually, all of my outfits were just bought at the boutique near our house which was selling a lot of cheap, good, quality second-hand items. I glimpsed at my white G-shock watch and it was a little bit after 8 in the morning. I realized I had a long plenty of time ahead and I still need to do some tasks.

I pulled the gate open then closed the gate again. When I got home, my family was not there already because my parents were at their work and my siblings had their own family now. Since I am the youngest, I still need to go to school and I better prepare myself already. I took my shower, brushed my teeth, put my well-ironed school uniform on, wore my black shoes with white socks and of course I did not forget to put my go-to make-up routine on my lovely face.

I arrived at our school early always and I never had the chance to be late. I always got highest scores during examinations, written quizzes, oral recitations and even performance tasks. I always represented my section and my academy during competitions with confidence thus I never lose. My teachers always praised me and I was a favorite to most of the folks whom I knew but I cannot deny the fact that there were some people whose insecure about me and easily get jealous on my achievements in life.

“Six more months Bridget Jones in-your-face slash sophisticated Bridget lady, you are going to the metropolitan at last and achieve all your dreams there’, I said to myself as I was finally done writing my valedictory speech in my pocket-sized room. I got bored right after writing my speech; I got my android phone and listened to some songs on my hacked Spotify account with my favorite playlist on. I imagined things while listening to the songs; I formed a mental picture of my life in the metropolitan and how my life could be if I was already there. I knew for sure that I could live there peacefully and fabulously. I closed my eyes, felt the rhythm of the melody of the songs until I slept.

On the afternoon of 21st of September, 2017; the most awaited moment in my entire life happened. I was now travelling to my metropolitan dream. The first hundred country mile was on rutted gravel rocks pocked with potholes, first on the reserve, then winding past a number of subnormal villages. That partition would take up to the early afternoon, I was not fond of travelling but I allowed my mind to wander as I took in the world I called my dearest metropolitan. Until, I saw tall buildings and a lot of luxurious cars, I knew that I was already at the border of the metropolitan.

Indeed, dreams do come true and sometime I was here at the metropolitan area. A big thanks to my former academy and to my Byzantine bloodline I was able to have a big opportunity to apply to some big companies here and I got the job immediately. My life here started well; I had a very nice house with silk-lined wallpaper and polished parquet flooring. The kitchen was about twice the size to our old kitchen, and the refrigerator, when I opened it, was always pretty full. I could say I got a pretty good salary.

Time had become fragmented, headstrong, arriving and departing in chaotic array of hours. I got tired of my hectic schedule in this metropolitan life I had here. I got tired on my work and I did not have much appetite to begin my day. What was worse was that I did not have much time with myself. So, I gave my life a break. I explored the city life and went each night to clubs and bars. I even tried smoking weed and drinking whatsoever drinks they called.

On the evening of 30th of December, 2018; I was dressed in faded blue Levis jeans, velvet red Channel sandals, and a yellow sleeveless Burberry blouse that dipped to a low V in front. With smooth, tanned skin and auburn hair framing high cheekbones, I drew my gape with irresistible force. My round eyes widened with some effusive enthusiasm when I eventually came to a breathless stop in front of a guy. He was wearing an all-black outfit and he was smiling above the cosmos with the full moon and dazzling stellar.

I have not felt this kind of feeling inside of me way back then. This emotion was unfamiliar to me and I do not know how to react. I was caught off by him and this might be cliche to think but I truly fell in love at first sight of him. Since I do not know what to that moment I turned my back on him and closed my eyes for about a minute. When suddenly, someone patted my shoulder. So I turned and faced the person, surprisingly it was the guy.

He asked me if I was all alone tonight and if it was fine to me if I let him be my friend. I directly said, “Yes, of course. I’m Bridget Jones and you are?”. He replied, “Andrew Sterling my lady.” while shacking my hand. We went to a night club; we talked about our chaotic lives, we danced on the dance floor like we knew ourselves for so long already and we drank a bucket of alcoholic drinks.

I was getting tipsy and when I am tipsy I cannot control myself already. I danced and drank one more bucket of beer while he was just watching me and was beaming all along perfectly. I was so exhausted and did not realized that it was already 31st of December which means it was New Year’s Eve. I slept with him in a motel close to the night club and all I could remember was that he said “I love you Bridget Jones.” and kissed me passionately.

I woke up hearing the swishing sound of the wind and the noise of the cars passing. It seemed, oddly, and I slowly opened my eyes. I lay enthralling it, letting it crystallized, letting my cerebrum play catch-up, as I recognized each for what it was. I looked for my phone to see what time is it but I could not find it. I tried checking it on my bag but I also could not find my bag. “Fudge, darn it!’, I screamed loudly. All of my cards were there; my credit card, ATM card and even my debit card. I got nothing left with me but only my body.

Then, I remembered what happened last night, I remembered the guy named “Andrew Sterling”, whom I fell in love at first sight with. I realized that I was just being tricked all that night. He just used his charm on me to take my bag; my cards and my phone. I was being swindled by a guy whom I fell in love with for the very first time. No one is completely predictable hence, we all have blindsiding bursts.

It felt like a long time ago. Although, I could still recognize the lady I was then, I see nothing more than a congruity to the lady I am now. Life before with my mom and dad seems even complete than life without them and living all alone. I forgot my very own and had not paid attention to my parents’ life in the hinterland. I was too ambitious and I focused too much on my aspirations which resulted in a worst situation. I forgot that I was once the sophisticated lady even if they knew me as” Bridget Jones in-your-face.”.

On the dawn of 1st of January, 2019; I was in the middle of nowhere, it was raining so hard and all I can hear was the tormenting sound of the thunder and the never-ending noise of the raindrops. My heart still wanted my metropolitan dream to be possible but the universe was not governed by wants or even needs. Some things do not work, no matter how much you want them to. I let my choices led me to the wrong path in life. The scary part, I thought to myself, was not the pain but the lasting existence. From now on, I must reckon on things that felt like they came from somewhere deeper than mere reminiscence.

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seanbonner · 5 years

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New Blog Post: Personal Uniform Update 2019

I’ve been writing about personal uniforms for a long time now [2015, 2010] and adhering to them for even longer. While the major themes have remained the same over the years some of the specifics have gotten more specific and as I’m often asked for recommendations I find it useful to take stock once and a while so I have something for people to reference. The last time I did this I was living in Los Angeles, and traveling 100k+ miles a year, today I’m living in Tokyo and still traveling 100k+ miles a year. Tokyo gets colder than Los Angeles and has snow, but it also gets more humid. I previously tried to have things that worked in all weather, but I’m now more a fan of fabrics and cuts that are optimized for seasons.

Generally I still stick to all black or dark grey and avoid anything with logos or visible branding of any kind.

The specifics:

T-Shirt

Basic. 100% Cotton. I’m still a fan of American Apparel’s Fine Jersey which I find to be the perfect cut, thickness and softness. These were the only things I wore for years and I’d buy them a dozen at a time every 12-18 months though honestly they hold up much longer than that and at less than $10 on Amazon it’s effortless. This is my goto shirt for training at the dojo because I know it’s strong enough to hold up under abuse and I’m not worried about ruining them. Cotton rules for structure, but it’s less optimal for most other things.

Hot weather: 100% Bamboo. The best ones I’ve found are made by Onno and are almost 3x the cost of the AA Cotton shirts at about $30. Bamboo is the perfect material for t-shirts, it wicks moisture away from you and is soft and anti-bacterial.

Humid: 100% Ramie. A recent find for me, Ramie is a really interesting natural fiber and in Tokyo’s super humid summers this has become my goto option. Outlier’s Ramielust shirt is the best shirt for hot and humid weather. It’s $125, but it takes one day if walking around in 90% humidity to understand why. I found some cheaper Ramie blend shirts on amazon but they don’t feel the same. As a fabric it’s a bit stiffer than Cotton or Bamboo, but it’s also light and airy like nothing else.

Cool: 100% Wool. This is going to be my most controversial recommendation ever but Outlier’s Gostwyck Single Origin Wool is really interesting. Wool is an amazing fabric, but it’s almost always ethically bad news, so a company working with a single farm with the specific intention of creating ethically produced wool is something I thought was worth supporting and looking further into. I know some people love wool and if they are going to buy it I’d prefer they put the money towards a more sustainable and ethical option like this. These shirts are also $125, but they might be the nicest shirts you’ve ever touched. A secret some people don’t know is that Wool shirts can be worn for several days in a row before they need washing, so you need fewer of them for a wardrobe and end up doing wash less often, so they have other environmental benefits to weigh out.

Pants

Slacks. I find the materials that Outlier are using for their Slim Dungarees and Futureworks pants to be fantastic, versatile, lightweight and durable. I was initially hesitant to buy $200 pants, but I now have 3 pairs and easily wear them 300 days out of the year. Their shorts are equally fantastic.

Jeans. I have an ongoing love/hate with denim that I continue to be unable to resolve. There was a point in the late 2000’s when I realized that not only did I not own a pair of jeans, I hadn’t owned a pair in over a decade, as I’d been wearing almost exclusively Dickies for most of that time. At the same time I had friends working with and lusting over “high end” denim and I wanted to understand it. I’ve since owned and worn many varieties of denim and from high end Japanese brands like Iron Heart & Sugar Cane. They’ve been great in some ways, and horrible in other ways and spending hundreds of dollars on pants that you know the crotch and pockets are going to blow out in, and require additional cost to keep repairing just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me these days. And while there are some minor details here and there, I don’t find them to justify the 5x or 10x cost over something like Shrink To Fit Levi’s 501s or something similar. In the end, I’m going to skip a recommendation on this one and just say individual preference is going to win out.

Socks

Darn Tough. Seriously, regardless of what style you like Darn Tough socks will be the best you can get. In addition to being super comfortable and rock solid, they have a life time guarantee so if you somehow find a way to wear a hole in them they will replace them free of charge. Forever. I don’t know how they do it, but they do and do it well.

Underwear

Update: I used to religiously recommend ExOfficio Boxer Briefs for many reasons but no longer do, a few years ago the company changed manufacturing practices and both their fabric and build quality went downhill significantly, when I first found them they were upwards of $30 each but now seem to be sub $20 and I’m quite sure they are making more money on each one due to the corners they cut. Avoid.

Warmer weather: Bamboo. $30 for a 4 pack of David Archy bamboo boxer briefs seemed too good to be true, but turns out it to be legit. Endorsed.

Cooler weather: Wool. Specifically Smartwool who are also publicly committed to ethical and sustainable wool production. They also have a lifetime guarantee which given their $45 price tag, being able to return them once they get worn out for new ones is a bonus.

Shoes and Jackets are much more personal and I can’t imagine recommendations here being worth anything. So look for the styles and cuts that you like and run with them I guess. Though I will say a good hoodie and a good windbreaker are an awesome combo.

via seanbonnerdotcom http://bit.ly/2N3zjfO

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starfiretheninja · 6 years

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Birthday Surprise

This was a request by an anon and I was happy to tackle my favorite gravity falls ship. Thank you so much for your patience and I hope that you enjoy it!

“Do I even want to know where this came from?” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose, already suspecting that this enormous pastry was Mabel’s doing.

Before him was a multi-tiered cake that towered a foot or so above him with a circumference wide enough to feed the denizens of Gravity Falls. The colors were primarily red and blue blending into purple with other interspersed shades. Inspecting it closer, he quickly found that the pattern was hastily frosted on with no rhythm or rhyme to it. Almost as if it was designed by someone obsessed with spontaneity. However, the frosting looked like it came from a fine French bakery. Almost as if only someone with some affluence could afford this. . .

“Wait a minute. . .”

Not a moment later did he hear a smothered click!, a brief sizzle, and in an instant the cake bursted into a million gooey fragments. Nothing in the backyard was untainted by the explosive pastry, from the windows of the house to Dipper’s socks. Sucking in a breath, Dipper attempted to keep some semblance of dignity intact as he drew his hand upwards and swiped away a large glob of cake off of his cheek.

Looking up, Dipper realized that where the cake once stood was a mess of poster board and firework shells. The structure soon gave way, and Dipper’s peeved expression fell away as the fallen poster board revealed a cheeky looking Pacifica Northwest. That alone nearly made Dipper’s jaw drop. He couldn’t believe that she had come all the way to California. And on such short notice before classes started again. She looked dazzling in her lavender knee-length dress with off the shoulder straps and a ribbon draped around her waist, all accentuated by her loose platinum hair and confident smile. And. . . was that a cigar clenched between her teeth? A lit cigar?!

“Not that I’m not absolutely thrilled to see you, but why do you have a cigar? I thought you didn’t like those,” Dipper began, not entirely sure what to believe.

“It was my dad’s birthday gift to me. I figured the best way to get back at him was to use it for my peasant boyfriend’s birthday surprise so he couldn’t get mad at me for ‘not appreciating his generosity’,” Pacifica responded mischievously. “And while I’m using this. . .” Taking a drag, she let out a perfectly crafted smoke ring. She then gracefully lifted her hand and snapped her fingers at the top of the ring, causing it to collapse into a smoky heart shape. Dipper felt a mixture of pride for his rebellious girlfriend and distaste for her father’s lack of consideration.

“How long did it take you to perfect that smoke form?” was the only thing Dipper could manage.

“Just now. I wasn’t about to let this puppy go to waste with practice.” With that, Pacifica dug the butt of the cigar and drove it into the platform under her feet to put out the flame. “Now with that out of the way, let’s celebrate your birthday, Dipper.”

Pacifica drew a case out of her purse, tucked the cigar into it, and stashed the gift away into her purse. Popping a breath mint into her mouth, she then held out her hand to Dipper.

“Come on, I’ve got the whole day planned out,” she smiled softly.

Snapping out of his stupor, Dipper eagerly took her hand, then wrapped his other arm around her to give her a much needed hug.

“I can’t wait.”

To start off, Pacifica treated Dipper to lunch at the nearby diner that he always mentioned to her.

“I see your point, this does look a lot like Greasy’s. Except this place probably actually has an inspector come through every so often,” Pacifica commented upon stepping into the busy restaurant.

“I haven’t gotten food poisoning here yet,” Dipper said, referring to a certain incident from last summer when he visited Gravity Falls. “Plus, everything’s affordable here.”

“Good. I wasn’t planning on spending the fortune I no longer have on one meal,” Pacifica snarked, as she thumbed through the menu. Dipper took the moment to admire her. Despite the shock of losing her family’s inheritance, she clearly rose to the occasion and worked to build a savings for herself. And she was taking what she was able to earn to give Dipper an awesome day. He couldn’t appreciate that more.

Pacifica noticed her boyfriend’s loving stare and raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“Yes?”

“I’ve told you how awesome you are right?” Dipper toed his foot to brush her leg.

“Only every other Skype call. But you could always stand to say it more.” Pacifica responded by gently rubbing her leg against his.

Dipper reached his hand across the table and gently took her hand and rested it on the table.

“Then maybe I’ll say it later,” he said cheekily. Pacifica let out a fake scoff of indignity.

“And after all I’ve done for you!” she said dramatically.

“I mean, you haven’t paid for dinner yet.”

“We’ll see if I still feel like paying after you’ve actually ordered something.”

The two parted hands once their food arrived, but continued playing footsie throughout their meal. Pacifica smiled deviously to herself, reveling in getting away with being publicly affectionately with her boyfriend with her parents in the next state over.

“Remind me again why you asked Mabel to arrange the scavenger hunt?” Dipper asked as he did his best to hold steady. This task was growing increasingly difficult as Pacifica, who was sitting on his shoulders, pushed harder on the top of his head to reach for the next clue sitting precariously on the tree branch.

“I don’t live here, so how would I know where to actually put the clues. Aha!” she laughed triumphantly as she finally caught the slip of paper between her fingers. “And would this be nearly as fun if you didn’t get to lift up your gorgeous girlfriend?”

“I’m just more afraid of what my parents would say to your parents if they saw you scandalously exposing to much leg in front of me,” Dipper joked, referring to her hiked up dress so Dipper could lift her up. He lowered himself to the ground in a crouching position. Pacifica gracefully swung off of him and straightened out her dress.

“You’ve seen me in a bathing suit before,” she pointed out.

“That’s different. But I’m glad I can lift you up like the princess you are.”

“Darn right you are. Now let’s figure out where Mabel will send us next.”

“Okay! Glad we’re out of that mess!” Dipper wheezed. Attempting to climb through the various attractions at Mr. Fuzzbert’s Arcadia past all of the clearly unsanitary tunnels was difficult enough, but digging around in the perfume department where half of the employees recognized Pacifica as a Northwest and viciously attempting to upsell her their products was a place they never thought they’d get through.

“So help me if one more girl sprays me with a free sample. . .” Pacifica started, but stopped short. “Wait, there’s the fountain!”

The two joyfully rushed to, what was hopefully, their final destination: the water fountain in the middle of the mall. They immediately scrambled to find the right carved in pattern on the outer ring.

“The clue said the unicorn, right?” Pacifica asked frantically, hoping their nightmare would soon come to an end.

“When Mabel says a sparkly, violent horse, she definitely means unicorn,” Dipper answered, still circling the fountain. “Here it is!”

He pushed on the pattern. The stone slid backwards, then sideways to reveal a secret compartment as Pacifica hurried to his side. Reaching his hand inside cautiously, Dipper pulled out a package wrapped in tinfoil.

“This is a weird wrapping for Mabel to use,” Dipper wondered aloud.

“That’s actually mine,” Pacifica said.

“Really? I would have thought you would have used hot pink or something.”

“I used it to protect your gift from the aliens.”

“I found an actual spaceship with Ford, you know.”

“But you never showed me, so it’s still a conspiracy theory.”

“Oh har har, very funny. . .” Dipper trailed off as he ripped apart the foil to reveal his gift. He then proceeded to let out a very girly shriek, causing passerby to look on in concern.

“Nowayisthisreally-”

“The Tome of the Truskian civilization, yes.” Pacifica had remembered Dipper grumbling about one of the items that the Stans had found on their world-touring adventures, but they refused to let their great-nephew look at it for fear of a curse on it. However, from what Soos reported from spending time around them upon their return was that the curse seemed to have been suppressed once more by Ford’s quick thinking. So long as Dipper didn’t stain the paper with the blood of royalty from the ruling class of the Truskian empire, he would probably be fine.

“How did you get this away from Ford and Grunkle Stan?! They banned me from ever even touching this!”

“Let’s just say it took a little sweet talking and breaking and entering,” Pacifica said cryptically. “I distracted them with a cheesy song and dance at Greasy’s while Wendy swiped it from the Shack and planted a fake.”

“You really do love me,” Dipper teared up, holding the book to his chest and drawing Pacifica close with his free arm.

“The things I do for you,” Pacifica sighed contently as she wrapped her arms around Dipper’s shoulders.

The pair finally arrived at the beach at sunset and located the tucked away corner that Mabel had secured for them earlier. The setup was complete with a large towel, a cooler, and a flashlight for the two to read the tome together. Mabel had also taken the liberty to surround the area with pink rose petals.

“I didn’t ask for the petals, but I’ll accept them,” Pacifica resigned, hoping that Dipper wouldn’t get too flustered by the romantic additions.

“At least she didn’t cover them in glitter,” Dipper joked, trying to suppress a certain evening that Mabel had stuck her creative hands into.

Cozying up together, the couple watched the sunset fade into a fiery gold color. With no company other than the ebb and flow of the ocean, it didn’t take long for the two to start making out. In between the desperate kisses, they whispered ‘I missed you’ and “I love you’ over and over again. Knowing that it wouldn’t be long until they were separated again, they held each other tightly. In the midst of the haze, Pacifica remembered her final surprise for Dipper.

“Mason,” she whispered.

“Hmm,” Dipper hummed, knowing that the use of his name always meant that she was being serious.

“There’s still one last gift left,” she gestured toward the cooler.

“Can’t it wait a little longer?” he whined, unwilling to let her go.

“Normally, I would want to kiss you longer. But I’m pretty sure the beach closes after sunset and I don’t want to get chased out by cops before the grand finale.”

“I suppose so,” Dipper sighed, releasing her. “So what do you have in there?”

“Just a little something I picked up outside the county.” Pacifica proceeded to pull a massive heap of fireworks out of the cooler and placed in carefully on the beach, angling it upwards towards the sky.

“I’ll. . . pack everything up. We’ll need to run after setting that thing off,” Dipper noted, as fireworks were highly illegal in his county. As he neatly folded the blanket, Pacifica pulled out a lighter and the remainder of the cigar from her purse. Lighting up the cigar, she gave it a quick puff to ensure that it would stay heated for the moment. Popping a final breath mint into her mouth, she turned to the eager Dipper.

“Ready?”

“Let’s see what firepower this thing has.”

Pressing the cigar to the fuse, Pacifica watched as her father’s precious gift gave flame to her boyfriend’s final gift of the evening. The fuse began to spark and the two ran a few meters away, both plugging their ears and giggling hysterically. The fireworks shot up into the air all at once, breaking off into two segments. One firework exploded, letting out a bang! and formed the shape of a constellation very familiar to Dipper. The other popped and sizzled immediately afterwards and formed a purple heart.

“Whoa! Pacifica that was. . .” Dipper started, a dopey grin on his face. He turned to Pacifica, who raised her eyebrow expectantly. Dipper threw his arms around her.

“Incredible. You really are the best girlfriend.” Dipper kissed her cheek affectionately, hoping he could demonstrate just how grateful he was that she would take the time to track down a Big Dipper firework just for him.

“For you, it was more than worth it,” Pacifica smiled, burying her face into his chest. Dipper had brought so much adventure and joy into her life. The least she could do for him was to give him a special day. Pulling back, she said, “Now let’s book it before we get into trouble. But first. . .”

Digging the cigar into the sand to put it out, Pacifica gracefully tossed it into the nearby garbage can as the two ran hand in hand from the now crime scene.

“Thanks, Dad. Your gift came in handy after all.”

#gravity falls #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #dipifica #dippica #i write #fanfic

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