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strawberryblue-blog · 2 months

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Stop calling me that —Pedri Gonzalez.

summary: After going out with your friends and having to take care of Pedri, things take an unexpected turn.

warnings: YES. +18. (smut, unprotected sex, cursing, etc)

words: +4.5k

#SEXYNOTE: There may be errors since i use the translator. English is not my first language.

Hands grab your forearm as you try to escape from the crowd of people. The music was at its peak and everyone around you was still dancing like there was no tomorrow. You weren't going to lie, a few moments ago you were one of them but after seeing one of your friends in bad shape, you decided it was the best thing to do to take him home.

Surrounded by sweaty and high strangers, you and Pedro make your way through the bodies, trying to make it to the end. You try to look for your other friends with your eyes but it's hard because of the darkness and the neon lights bursting in your eyes. Your friends were probably out picking up girls or lying around somewhere, they might have even gone home by now.

When they finally emerge from the chaos, you push Pedro until he's sitting on the edge of the street. He sighs tiredly and lies down on the sidewalk.

"No, no. You'll get dirty" you tell him, helping him to pull himself together but he groans. You take your phone from your wallet and call your friends, first Gavi and no answer, then Fermin and no answer either, you try your friends and no sign of life either.

Damn it. Of all of them, it had to be Pedro?

If you had known he would get that drunk and the boys would disappear sooner than you wanted, you wouldn't have agreed to come tonight.

Being voted in and on top of that having to take care of an alcoholic kid was not what you had in mind when they said 'let's go out'.

You hated drunks! You didn't understand why they drank if they weren't going to put up with it. You weren't a babysitter.

"Come on, Pedro, the last few steps" you sighed from exhaustion, dragging him along when they turned the corner of your block.

You didn't want to bring him home but none of the boys were paying attention and you didn't know if it was the right thing to do to take him home in this state. His brother, Fer, was probably sleeping and you didn't want to disturb him. It was late and I lived far from you, if you took a taxi it would be very expensive and you didn't have a car. You had a couch and because of his condition, he wouldn't feel a thing.

He didn't even know it was you bringing him home, the boy was just babbling nonsense. At least he was still awake, because dragging a dead body was not what you would have preferred.

Finally a few minutes later you arrived at your apartment, opened the door and with the last effort you threw him on the couch.

Pedro whimpered kicking and screaming when you let him go. Maybe because he thrashed a bit, which was funny but you were quick to worry about helping him.

"I'll never go out with you again, I promise" you said loudly, whining as you reached out to grab his shoes.

"What are you doing?" you heard him ask and you lifted your head.

The position you were in was not at all favorable. Pedro looked at you in confusion and from how nervous you became, you stumbled falling over his legs.

"Y/n?" he said again and you got up from his body quickly.

"Sleep, Pedro" you said quickly as you removed them.

"Stop calling me that!" he grumbled snorting.

He was fucking drunk! Why wouldn't he fall asleep? You were hating that he saw you like that. He should be sleeping right now so everything would be easier.

"It's your name, I don't understand why it bothers you" you told him seriously.

"It's Pedri to my friends, you could try it" he insisted and you nodded.

You knew. You knew his friends, who were your friends too but you were not so close. Not because of anything special, simply because you didn't have much contact. You were Fermín's college classmate and with that, you got to know Pablo, Pedro and Ferran but you wouldn't say you were close to them either. You could count on one hand the number of times you saw each other. You had seen them at Fermín's birthday, at the end of the year dinner and now. You couldn't exactly say they were friends. You weren't even close.

"I want to take a shower, I stink" he pouted complainingly.

"Well you should have thought about that before you got drunk like that" you muttered heading towards the kitchen.

The truth was that you both stank. It was hot this time of year and in club there were a lot of people, you had traces of drinks, cigarettes and dirt on you.

"It'll just be a quick shower" he asked again and you bleached your eyes.

"No" you denied seriously. "Go to sleep" you asked pouring him a glass of water.

You sighed before taking a drink of water, you never thought taking care of someone drunk would be so exhausting. Bringing him home had been almost a triumph for you but him being here, invading your space was too much. A noise made you alert and you turned quickly. Pedro's body was heading for the center of your home and on his way he had crashed into your tapestry.

"Where are you going?" you shouted as he headed for the doors. You walked quickly following him. "Pedro!" you shouted again when he ignored you.

You saw his bare back as you followed him towards your bathroom. He had taken off his shirt! Damn it. This wasn't going to end well. Why didn't his friends take care of him? Surely they would know how to handle him better than you.

"I'll call Fermin, he'll come get you and you can bathe at his house" you yelled as you saw him disappear into the bathroom.

You stood at the bathroom door and fumbled in your pockets for your cell phone but cursed when you noticed you had forgotten it in the living room. The sound of the shower hitting the floor made you scream. You were going in, you couldn't leave it alone in that state.

"I'm going in" you warned covering your eyes with your hand. You bit your lip nervously and walked into your bathroom, seeing Pedro's clothes on the floor.

Was this how drunks behaved? You were going to need a break after this. And enlightenment from the universe not to kill Pedro. You were hating your friends so hard right now that you probably wouldn't hang out with them ever again. Ever.

"Turn it off!" you shrieked from the other side of the shower. You tried to reach in to turn off the water but Pedro ran it.

"It's just a bath" he said stammering.

"But you don't have any clothes, Pedro" you grumbled but he ignored you.

"What is body gel soap?" you heard him ask and you wanted to hit him.

"Don't even think about using it" you said through your teeth, bending down to grab his clothes off the floor. You hated that everything was lying around.

"Smells good" he said and you went back to throwing everything in your hands to get it off him.

"Drop it, Pedro" you remarked his name like a mother scolding her child.

You weren't going to let him use your stuff just like that. He was invading your privacy, you wouldn't stand for it. And he was acting like a five year old.

You reached in your hands grabbing the gel, trying not to look at him so much but half your body was inside the shower and your hands were starting to get wet.

"Use the normal soap!" you squealed taking it out of his hands but Pedro was quicker and pulled you out.

"Pedro!" you called angrily.

His hands were fighting against yours, he couldn't be more childish. But he wasn't going to use it, it was your favorite gel, you smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, you weren't going to let Pedro smell like you.

You took the product in your hands but when Pedro's hands let go of the bottle, he grabbed your forearms and pulled you into the shower. Your hair started to get wet as you screamed from the shock of the water on your body. You didn't have time to react when you were already completely wet and your eyes searched the mocking eyes of Pedro, who hid a laugh on his lips as he saw you squealing.

"What the fuck?" you shouted in confusion.

"You are very intense and you kept saying Pedro, Pedro, Pedro" he replied mocking you.

You want to keep yelling at him and hit him but your eyes move to his abdomen, leaving you breathless. You look at his well toned chest, he has a bit of hair on top, well marked. A shiver runs down your back and makes you swallow saliva as you continue down his body but you cover yourself before you can see him.

He is naked in front of you and feels no shame at all. He looks at you with that complicit look and you want to run but your legs don't work. Instead, you feel a heat rising from the tip of your toes to your crotch, damn it. Your body tricks you and reacts to the situation as instinct, your cheeks heat up and your heart beats fast.

You are both under the cold shower, which now feels warm on your skin, standing facing each other but one of you is only dressed. You die of embarrassment but you can't do anything, you're in shock.

You feel drunk and you didn't even take a drop of alcohol, your eyes are still closed but you can see his body in your imagination, his perfect abs, his hard chest and his...

Shit, what the fuck is wrong with you? You blink trying to understand but every second that passes you want to keep seeing it.

A laugh bursts in your ears and makes you shiver.

"Why do you look like you've never seen a naked man?" he sneers at your reaction.

Your skin bristles with anger.

"Yes I have!" you squeal in offense and drop your hands.

"Are you sure?" he says still smiling.

You look at him again after a few seconds and now you're sure he can see your red cheeks because when you remember that he's naked, you feel your cheeks burning again. This is so embarrassing.

"Fuck you!" you shout angrily again and rush to get out of the shower.

But his hand stops you and his touch burns into your skin. You swallow saliva as your thoughts scatter, his hand wraps around your forearm and pushes you until you fall straight into his chest. Your hands are pressed into his hard chest and your body almost brushes his.

You gazes are connected and you doubt if usually the dark in their eyes shines like this or just shines for this moment. Water falls on your skins wetting you, his arms wrap around your waist and just when you think you will faint, his lips impact yours.

The kiss is fiery, hard, needy. Your lips devour, feel and enjoy, you feel how the kiss kills you and brings you to life again and again, how your tongues caress and greet. You lose your mind and forget everything else, as if it all vanishes, as if it never existed. You are lost in his taste, in his charm. You don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go, you don't want it to end. And it doesn't because after taking one last breath, you desperately join again.

Now your hands run up his skin and you hang on his shoulders, feeling his burning skin beneath them, while his fingers squeeze your waist pulling you closer to him. You want to pull away, you want to get out of here, you remember he's drunk but you can't stop.

His lips are contagious, unhealthy, dangerous. Yet you are willing to keep kissing him. And you do it when you are desperate to feel him, to kiss him, to touch him. Who took control of your body? How is it possible? Pedro and you... here... right now...

After your trip to limbo, after tasting the temptation, you are forced to push his chest, pushing us away. You need air, you need to think. Pedro looks confused and stunned, he pulls on your hip but you stop him again.

"You're drunk, we can't go on" you warn him at his confusion. He denies but you affirm.

"I'm not" he mutters. "Not anymore, maybe before at the club but I'm fine now" he insists and pulls you close again.

You bite your lip at the temptation. You want to go on and you know he does too. His eyes watch you delicately, his touch permeates your skin.

"I was acting a little, okay?" he admits and you open your mouth. Pedro laughs a little. "No one has ever cared about me like you did at the club, I couldn't pass up the opportunity" he continued.

Your heart widens and you want to punch him.

"Opportunity of what?" you ask angrily. "Of hitting you?" you spit squeezing his chest.

"Of getting close to you" he says and your system stops.

You open your eyes in surprise. He has a smile on his face and you don't know if he's playing with you or if he really means it. Pretending to be drunk to be with you? No way.

"Ha ha ha" you laugh falsely at his confession. You can't believe him. "We better end this" you mutter somewhat angrily, you should never have continued this in the first place.

"You don't believe me?" he says when you want to let go but he grabs your elbow again. "Don't say you don't want to, I saw you tonight seeing me with your friends, they were talking about something and when I looked at you, you blushed. Even they noticed it too" he said and you bite your tongue embarrassed.

It was true, tonight Pedro looked fucking hot and handsome. If he wasn't who he is, you would have definitely approached him but he was a casanova, a famous footballer who could have any girl at his feet and you weren't just anyone. Your friends knew your tastes and always teased you about him when you all went out together, even Fermin knew that.

"We were talking about something else" you try to defend yourself.

"Yeah, right" he lets out a sarcastic laugh. You raise an eyebrow.

"And you were looking at me too" you spit remembering when you arrived. "You were watching my ass with your friends!" you squeal reproachfully.

"Yes, I did" you admit and open your mouth. "I'm not lying, you have a nice ass and everyone noticed."

Something inside you jumps. Was he watching you as you arrived? Maybe he was waiting for you? Your legs shook at the thought. You didn't want to get stupid ideas about Pedro but you knew he was right.

"What were you saying about me?" he asked after your silence.

You denied playing dumb. The grip on your elbow slipped and he grabbed your arm to pull you back to him. With a gasp from the sudden movement you fall back into his chest and his lips brush your face. You are motionless, under his control and you do nothing to change it.

"Nothing" you provoke him by playing innocent.

You're not going to stop him, you want to see how far he's capable of going and you're ready for anything. His other hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer against his body. You can feel the heat coming off your bodies, electric currents shoot to your thighs as you remember he's naked.

The atmosphere is different from before, now you are needy, desperate, burning. The fire in his eyes infect yours and you want this as much as he does.

"What were you saying about me?" he repeated and you licked your dry lips without speaking.

The pressure in your crotch was starting to hurt, your wet clothes were starting to bother you and even though you were still dressed you felt volnerable under his gaze. You remained speechless, you couldn't, you were lost in his pink lips, in his pitch black eyes, in his slightly overgrown beard around his chin.

"We don't talk about you, Pedro" you lie again.

Pedro grimaces, narrowing his eyes. The hand on your waist presses down and lifts you off the ground, making you squeal as your back stamps against the wall. Your legs wrap around his lower back and you can feel the air turn toxic around you.

The friction generated in your crotch makes you gasp but you swallow the gasp pretending to be strong in front of him. You are so hot but you like playing with him, he played with you before anyway.

"Liar" he spits so close to your lips that you are tempted to kiss him but he won't let you.

You understand his game perfectly and if he wants to play, you're going to play.

Your fingers hold his shoulders strong and you move them down the back of his neck until you reach the beginning of his hair to stroke it. Your chest rises and falls frantically and you grab his neck to pull him to you, when your mouth is at his ear level... you decide to burn.

"I was telling them how fucking sexy you looked tonight" you whispered brushing your lips against his lobe.

"Oh yeah?" he gasps on a sigh.

You nod watching him. Again, his face faces yours and you want to kiss him but you hold back.

You don't tell him the whole truth, you'll die of embarrassment if he knew that your friends were encouraging you to get close to him. You didn't want him to know that you found him interesting.

You wait for some other comment but instead you get the caress of his hands leave your lower back and move straight to your butt, circling it. When he presses down so hard, you moan as you feel the rubbing of your center against his abdomen.

You are both ready to burn and the fire, once lit, is hard to put out. You know that even he won't come out unscathed tonight and that thrills you.

His gaze moves down from your mouth to your chest, because of the wet clothes, your lace bra can be seen to perfection and with it your erect nipples. He relames his lips and you want to be the one to moisten them, so you grab him by the jaw and kiss him fiercely.

Enough games, that's enough. And he knows it because he welcomes you perfectly by sticking his tongue in your mouth, caressing your ass while your fingers press his face to you. Everything around you stops and it's just you, in the rain from the shower, warm and ready to have at each other.

"Take my clothes off" you ask between his lips. Pedro smiles biting your lower lip, lowering you to the floor to unfasten your pants.

He delicately pulls them down your leg until they fall to the floor on their own and begins to undo the top you were wearing and pull it away from your body. You want to kiss him again but he stops you, starting to pull down the straps of your bra, playing with them. You are gawking under his control and his gaze and you can't say or do anything.

He has you trapped.

He brings his mouth to your chest and leaves a hot kiss on your collarbones, moving down to the center of your chest and finally to the beginning of one of your breasts, where he bites down making you squeal with pleasure. His other hand takes over the other nipple and presses it into the fabric, circling it to torture you. Moans come out of your mouth like music to his ears and when his hand detaches your bra, you smile like a victory. The piece of fabric disappears from view and now his lips and fingers find your needy nipples.

You want to scream, to cry, to squeeze, you can't hold back as his teeth bite and suck. You want everything from him, you need everything from Pedro. One of his hands leaves your breast to move down your belly, groping the area, making you gasp. He reaches your crotch, his fingers trail down your thighs and just when you think he'll ease your pain, he stops.

He leaves your breasts to look at you again, your eyes are pure fire when they connect with his and when you feel his fingers slip through the only piece of clothing that covered you, you are completely naked before him. You are now hand in hand and ready for anything. Your fingers grab his hair and tug it gently as you feel the heat welling up from your crotch, he likes to play with you and you won't beg for it but you will give him incentive. Your mouth takes place on his neck and you begin to lick him sensually, leaving wet trails of your tongue and biting in places to hear him moan.

Pedro slams you back against the wall to gain access to you, his body comes between yours and he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. You can feel his erection rubbing against your thighs and the craving burns in your heat, you want him to take you right now. Your face returns to his as you are about to beg, your foreheads meet and you feel the tip of his cock caress your hot lips, you swallow saliva because your throat is so dry it hurts. Your arms go around his broad shoulders and you feel him thrust into you in one thrust, making you cry out and press your nails into his skin. Your stimulation and the shower water falling on your bodies made the process more pleasurable as you both pant heavily.

Your walls adapt to it faster than you think and it begins to move inside you so slowly that you think you will die. You need him so badly you don't mind begging.

"P-pedro" you whisper begging.

His smile widens and his eyes are those of the devil himself.

"Stop calling me that" he says starting to speed up his movements as if he scolded you.

You hear his complaint but you can't respond. Not when every fiber of your body fills with pleasure and you lose yourself in a blur. His movements are erratic and firm, you moan with each one and you don't let yourself be silenced, you are enjoying it and so is Pedro. Drops of water slide down your skins, your hair soaking wet, your bodies warm and moist.

Your chest heaves with joy, your heart pounds so hard in your chest you think you'll have a fit. You hug his shoulders tightly clutching at his hard strokes, you don't shut up. He's so deep inside you that you can feel the throbbing of his cock in your walls, his fingers incarnate in your skin, his mouth leaves traces on your shoulders.

The air becomes suffocating, courage floods the room, for minutes you think you will faint, your feet are tired but you don't care you don't want him to stop.

His hands find place on your thighs and he pulls you back against him to accommodate you, your back slams against the cold wall of your bathroom. He penetrates you again, harder this time as he has a perfect position to fuck you hard enough against the wall and you love that. Your hands wrap around his chest and you pinch his skin, begging for more and more.

In your mind everything was blurry, dark and confusing. You wanted to think, to try to assimilate what was happening but you were blank. You weren't thinking clearly, you could only be grateful for the feeling of release you were feeling. You were lost in his eyes as he kept pushing himself into you, passion cornered them and wouldn't let them go.

You wanted to think about Fermín, damn it. You were embarrassed at the thought of Fermín finding out you were fucking Pedro, he had heard the endless times you complained about him. If he saw you right now, he'd probably laugh in your face. From hate to love... or rather, from hate to passion, there is only one step. A very short one that ends in temptation and temptation in need.

Your grip became tighter as the pressure on one belly made you tremble, the orgasm was near and you could feel it in every atom of your body. Pedro felt it too, of course, your cries had become desperate. You moaned his name over and over again and this time, he didn't mind you calling him Pedro. It was the opposite. His lips turned into a smile as he accelerated his movements to see you explode and he did. Spasms went through your system as you reached orgasm, Pedro kept pounding in just the right place filling you with pleasure. You screamed so loud that the lump in your throat broke and you fell surrendered on his shoulders.

"Wait a little longer, princess" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

His lips met yours again and this time you took them desperately, you had missed the sensation of the sweetness of his lips. Your mouths matched perfectly, the softness of his lips caressing, the hardness of your tongues touching. You were caught up in the moment, enveloped in the thin layer of steam dazed by the feeling of explosion. The pounding in your crotch was becoming intense, Pedro's moans were quiet in your mouth but you released his lips to listen to him.

He squeezed your ass, preparing to hold you when his orgasm would come and you smiled as you watched him pucker his face. A curse came out of his mouth and was trapped in yours as you kissed him fiercely again. You could hear him grunt as you felt him spill inside you, just like an animal mating.

His hips slowed down, making you bristle from the overstimulation, probably tomorrow your crotch would ache but you didn't mind at all. The kiss ended when his hands helped you off him, gently taking you by the waist. Your breasts heaving, your eyes sparkling and your hearts skipping.

You were a little shy to look at him again after what had just happened so much that you hid your face in his chest. Pedro sighed hugging your back to cover you. The water was still pouring down on you and now you were definitely going to take a shower. You were exhausted and sore, you weren't going to care if he took your shower gels or slept in your bed. It didn't matter anymore that you'd had to drag him home or that your friends had abandoned them. Not with what had just happened.

And you were willing to put it all aside to get him back.

Again and again.

#football imagines #imagine #football one shot #fc barcelona #pedri #pedri x you #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader

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very-normal-abt-this · 3 months

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I forgive you = I don't forgive myself. I am acting angry at you = I am feeling angry at myself. I am rejecting you = I am rejecting myself.

Here is a little psychological analysis of the worst sentence ever uttered in the history of everything. I've decided that Aziraphale is utilizing a subconscious psychological defense strategy called "projection" (I'm a professional psychologist, so I can use the lingo :P)

We all use this at certain times in our lives. What happens is, when we feel that our behaviors, feelings, or thoughts are unacceptable; When they go against some of our values and create an internal value conflict - we feel shame, anger, fear, confusion. Feeling this way about ourselves is extremely uncomfortable, so sometimes, instead of acknowledging those feelings ("Wow I am feeling really angry at myself right now"), people will *Project* those feelings onto the person who is involved in the situation that is causing us to feel that value conflict. And, we are more likely to use this defense strategy when our emotional resources have been depleted. When we don't have the emotional energy to recognize and cope with painful feelings that we are feeling. Sometimes its just easier to be angry at someone else, instead of being angry at ourselves, you know?

Now, lets look at how this concept applies to Aziraphale's reaction to *The Kiss.* We know that his emotional resources have certainly been depleted by all of the emotional events that just occurred in the span of a day: planning and executing the ball, building up the courage to ask Crowley to dance, actually dancing with Crowley in front of everyone, realizing that he put his guests in serious danger when demons show up, fighting for his life, seeing Jimbriel and Beelz get their happy ending and realizing that it is possible, seeing Metatron come down from Heaven, and finally being offered an insane opportunity for himself and for Crowley. Wow, that is.... A LOT, don't you agree? So, by the time Aziraphale is having the "final 15" conversation with Crowley - he can no longer effectively process unexpected and complex thoughts and emotions.

Uuuuunfortunately, that is exactly what he gets during the conversation with Crowley. First, Crowley has an unexpected and complex reaction to the offer of being together as angels (unexpected to emotionally unhinged Aziraphale, not to us of course). Then, Crowley proceeds to drops an emotional bombshell by doing something that has never been done before - openly discussing the nature of their relationship and his feeling about Aziraphale. After that, Aziraphale himself chooses to show the most vulnerability and honesty about his feelings that he has ever shown (i.e. "I need you!"). And what is the final cherry on top of this "emotional tsunami" pie? The straw that completely breaks the camel's back? (aka temporarily breaks his friggin mind) ***THE KISS.***

As an aside, I am not AT ALL saying that Crowley was wrong for anything that he did or said in the final 15. I believe he was right to say and do all of it. I am simply breaking down the factors that were present in the context of that conversation. And one of the factors is -- the timing of it all was just horrendous. It was horrendous, because both of them had very depleted emotional resources at that moment in time. Aziraphale was basically primed to become completely overwhelmed and confused by all the new and complicated emotions/ideas that he was required to process. On top of it, he was required to process them in a very short amount of time, with damn Dickatron putting pressure on him to make a decision ASAP.

Okay, so what do humans do when we are completely overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions? Sometimes what happens is - we REVERT to the familiar. We REGRESS to things that are the most automatic and easiest to understand. We revert to thoughts and behaviors that have been the most practice, even if they are not effective and not relevant to the situation at hand (which we don't recognize until later, when we are out of that "fight of flight" state).

Back to Aziraphale. He is experiencing an insane amount of emotions during and after the kiss. He is trying to process his emotions and the implications of the kiss; and he is also trying to make a super hard decision, all at the same time. What he should have done is say to Crowley - "wow this is a lot for me to process right now and I'm completely overwhelmed. Can I please have 15 minutes to myself so I can re regulate my nervous system, and then we will keep talking?"

Unfortunately, when we're overwhelmed by emotions - its really hard to see the different options available to us. We go into a sort of "tunnel vision" and revert to our internalized and automatic beliefs and behaviors. For Aziraphale, that means - regressing to the old beliefs that Heaven has programmed into him. Maybe beliefs like: acting on carnal desires is wrong (look at what happened to adam and eve); good angels don't engage in physical intimacy and they certainly don't crave it or enjoy it; it's selfish to consider choosing your personal happiness and your personal desires over an opportunity to help others/help the world. If those are some of his old values - Aziraphale has just acted against all of them!

When we act against our old values (even when we know that those values are no longer working for us, and we are actively working on changing them) - we still feel ashamed, guilty, and angry at ourselves. This is especially likely to happen in times of great stress and emotional overwhelm. So, now we get to the equation from the top. Aziraphale is feeling ashamed of himself, angry at himself, and guilty for his thoughts and feelings (i.e. for liking/wanting the kiss, for loving Crowley, for wanting to be with Crowley more than he wants to "help the world").

He is feeling that he needs to be forgiven for the way he feels, and for the way he is. However, due to his temporarily deficient emotional resources - Aziraphale is not able to accurately attribute the feelings he is experiencing (anger, shame, guilt, desire for forgiveness) to the correct source. He mistakenly decides that he must be feeling those feelings towards Crowley (not toward himself), and he must be feeling them because of what Crowley did (Kiss him), not because of what Aziraphale did (enjoy and reciprocate the kiss). And Viola, the process of Projection is now complete.

He says: "I forgive you" to Crowley, but Aziraphale is the one who wants his own forgiveness. Which, unfortunately, he does not get. At least not yet. (Yay for religious trauma).

In conclusion, the sad thing about bad timing and projection is: now Crowley is worried that Aziraphale sees him as sinful and unacceptable, as someone who needs forgiveness. But the truth is, Aziraphale is the one who still struggles with seeing himself as sinful and unacceptable, and as someone who needs forgiveness for his urges, desires, and feelings.

But, the good news is - Aziraphale does not always see himself in that way. We know that he has been putting a lot of work into breaking away from heaven's toxic values, and into developing his own values (e.g. "our side"). Like I said above, old habits die hard, they are more likely to surface during times of stress, and all that is a normal part of the process of psychological change.

I am very confident that once Aziraphale has a hot minute to himself, once he has time to calmly process everything that's happened - he will see some things differently. And he will eventually be doing the Apology Dance for "using projection as a deadly weapon. " :)

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theories #good omens season 2 #aziraphale x crowley #good omens prime #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziracrow #good omens s2 #good omens analysis #good omens psychoanalysis #good omens finale analysis #good omens final fifteen #good omens i forgive you analysis #they will figure it out #writing this helps me process my angst

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

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no drinks, no pools, no molly. (r.c)

summary: five times rafe cameron tried to ask you out, and the one time it worked.

this is an About Time!au (that's is my fave movie of all time and if you haven't seen it i highly recommend it if you like laughing and sobbing at the same time)

tags/warnings: you might cringe (a real warning), soft(ish)!rafe, def fanon!rafe, swearing? fluff! underage drinking

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 4.6k (yikes)

recommended listening: about time theme, friday i'm in love

note: please please please if you haven't seen the movie at least give the theme a listen, while you read this or on its own but i promise it'll make your heart melt it's so adorable, i listened to it through most of the writing process and it made me want to cry sooo

Rafe Cameron has a flawless reputation. Tainted only by his better-than-thou attitude, as some perceive it- but always kind, always caring. Suspiciously so, to many, considering his semi-popularity, but that has never bothered him. He's a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, making him insufferable to some, but not to you.

It's not like you two are close friends, but he's had a seemingly hopeless crush on you for years at this point. He sees you almost every day at the country club in the summers, and lucky for him, you usually have two or sometimes three classes together at the academy on the mainland during the rest of the year. He thinks you're just about the most beautiful girl in the world- if he had to guess. The way the light reflects off your hair in the sun as you lay on a beach chair by the pool with a drink in your hand, making it look so soft and so shiny he's just dying to touch it, leaves him in awe every time.

After much encouragement from his sisters, he's decided it's time to act on this crush. After years, he still doesn't know if he can. Even if he has nothing to lose.

What everyone doesn't know about Rafe and his reputation, is that he has lived two lives. His dad told him when he was eighteen that by some miracle the men in his family could travel back in time, and his sisters could never know. All he had to do was simply stand in a dark, enclosed space and close his fists at his side- picturing the moment he wanted to go back to in his mind. Then, he would find himself there. He didn't believe it at first, believing his dad was pulling the wool over his eyes, but he tried it that night anyways- and was shocked to find himself in yesterday's clothes with his previous day's breakfast sitting on his desk waiting for him.

This changed everything, and he really never had anything to lose- but that didn't make the terrifying concept of talking to you any easier.

One:

"Go, Rafe! Go talk to her. Just be yourself." Sarah is pushing him in your direction and he stumbles a little on his feet, cheeks burning hot from nerves working in tandem with the heat of the hot summer day. He almost drops his drink, glaring at her over his shoulder as she waves for him to move, smiling excitedly. He supposes now is as good a time as any- you're alone, sitting next to the pool on a towel with a novel in your hands and a tequila sunrise at your side. He wonders if that's your favourite as he hesitantly walks up, repeatedly glancing back at his sister who's giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" Rafe says, clearing his throat as he stands over you, his shadow blocking the sunlight from your eyes as you lift your sunglasses.

"Hey, Rafe. How's it going?" You smile, settling your glasses in your hair.

"Oh, uh, pretty good," Rafe replies, and you nod with a smile, almost like you're waiting for him to continue. "Can I join you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

"Of course!" You grin, patting the empty seat.

"Sweet, cool- thanks..." He says, mostly to himself as he steps around you and between the chairs, going to sit down when he stubs his toe on the leg of the reclined sun chair.

"Ow, shit!" He hisses, instantly recoiling and in the process, dumping his drink all over you.

You gasp, quickly sitting up and shaking off your book, hoping it's not too damaged along with your white swimsuit that is now stained red with the grenadine in his drink.

"Oh, oh god- I'm so sorry, Y/N, I-" Rafe panics, the pain in his foot suddenly gone as he looks you over.

"It's fine, Rafe. It happens." You chuckle a little, but he can tell you're not pleased as you desperately shake your book.

"Uh, here, I'm so sorry-" He says again, grabbing a towel from the table next to you to try and help dry you off, but realizes too late that your drink is balanced on the edge of it and he spills it, once again onto your lap.

You fly up out of your seat, jumping a little at the cold and brushing the ice cubes off your lap. Now your bathing suit and book are most definitely ruined and you groan at the thought of having to repurchase your favourite book, which you've read no less than seven times now. "Shit.." You mumble, more to yourself.

"God I'm so sorry, I just-" Rafe is absolutely humiliated, he doesn't even know what to say as his cheeks are red hot from having most definitely blown any shot he's ever had with you. He gets up and quickly takes off towards the clubhouse, running out of the situation as fast as possible. You watch him in confusion, laughing a little as he leaves you awkwardly standing by the pool with a newly tie-dyed bathing suit.

"Ouch..." Wheezie grumbles, sipping on her own drink as he watches Rafe run away.

"Where is he going?" Sarah says, wincing a little as she looks at you as well, giving you a quick awkward wave since your eyes landed on his sisters, hoping for any answers.

"No clue, but after that trainwreck, I'd be running too." Her sister answers with a slight laugh.

When Rafe gets inside, he slows to a quick-paced walk since he knows he's not allowed to run inside. He's got a firm destination in mind- the broom closet in the locker room.

Two:

Rafe is standing on the back porch at one of Kelce's parties, admiring the way you hold your drink with both hands as you stand by the pool with some of your friends, talking over the music. They scare him, sure, but not as much as you do. Even though he knows you're not a mean person, at the same time he has to acknowledge that they, your friends, will be his harshest critics if he tries to make any moves on you.

"Dude, just go talk to her, this is ridiculous at this point," Topper says to him, nudging his shoulder. "It's hard to watch, honestly. Just, here, take this- then go talk to her."

His friend is holding a shot glass up to him, holding some nondescript clear liquid. "Liquid courage, man, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rafe nods, trying to hype himself up. He glances over your way again, sighing to himself at how pretty you look. How pretty you always look. He swallows his pride and takes the shot, shivering at the bitter taste and handing the glass back to Topper as he wipes his mouth, coughing in the process.

"Okay, now, go ask her out, the worst she can say is no." His friend is encouraging, but Rafe isn't worried about what you'll say, so much as what he'll do to embarrass himself this time. He's lucky he's the only one who remembers the country club incident that happened just a week prior.

Rafe smiles nervously at his friend and adjusts the collar of his shirt, walking down the stairs of the porch and heading in your direction. He stops halfway and abandons his half-finished drink on the stairs. He's not risking that again.

"Hey." Rafe clears his throat as he walks up to you and your friends, but it seems that no one heard him over the music. "Uh, hey, guys." He says again, slightly louder this time and grabbing their attention.

"Rafe! Hi." You smile, seemingly excited to see him and you quickly give him a hug. He's shocked, but hugs you back. "How are you? I haven't seen you around this week!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I've been pretty busy." He lies, smiling at you nervously. He tries to relax as he takes in your intoxicated state, knowing you're having fun, and not taking much seriously.

"Sarah said you've just been locked up at Tannyhill all week." Your friend laughs a little, making him blush.

"I mean, yeah I wasn't feeling well. Had a bad cold." He pats himself on the back for the quick save, but that is cut short as you take a subtle step back, smiling at him awkwardly and shifting your body language after having just hugged him. Shit, he knows how anxious you are about getting sick. "I mean, not bad, I think it was probably allergies. Nothing contagious, I don't think." He scrambles to backtrack.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." You say, carefully eyeing him up and down. God, now you must think he's gross. Great.

"Thanks." He smiles. "Uh, can I grab you another drink? I'm empty-handed; at Kelces parties that's a sin." Rafe chuckles, trying to change the subject as he notices your almost empty cup.

He's hoping to get you away from the watchful eye of your friends, and it seems to work as you smile and nod. "I'll be right back." You say to your friends, stepping back to squeeze past them as he joins your side. Now is his chance.

"So, uh, I was actually wondering if-"

"Rafe! Buddy!" He hears someone yelling at him excitedly, their tone getting louder as they approach quickly.

"Kelce, h-hey!" He says, just as his friend reaches his side, shoving into him as he suddenly comes to a stop at the edge of the pool. He wraps an arm around Rafe's shoulder and uses him to steady himself- but unfortunately, Rafe is the wrong person for this.

He stumbles back with the weight of another teenage boy against him, bumping into you and you lose your balance. "Oh, shit- Y/N, be careful." He laughs a little, turning to make sure you're okay, slamming his elbow into your side and pushing you into the water by accident. He didn't realize how close you were still standing to him.

Rafe freezes, his jaw-dropping as suddenly everyone in the vicinity is watching. "Oh, shit!" Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe again as he stands there slack-jawed. He looks briefly over to your friends who are crouched down at the edge of the pool now, shouting your name and ready to pull you out. You gasp as you come out of the water, frantically pushing your hair out of your face. Your makeup is ruined, and no doubt your hair as well. Rafe could tell you put time into how you would look tonight.

"Y/N! Oh god, I'm so sorry!" He says, finally snapping back to reality. He crouches down as well to try and help, but you look at him only briefly before swimming over to your friends.

"That's rough, bro." Kelce laughs quietly at Rafe, who's standing back up, defeated now. "Hope you weren't trying to hit that."

"Do you have a walk-in pantry?" Rafe quickly asks him.

Three:

No pool this time. That's for sure. They seem to be bad luck for Rafe, and this time, as he looks at the small gift bag he hid under the table of other gifts for you on your birthday, he knows he just has to get you alone to open it. Your friends were throwing you a big party at Molly's house, and invited everyone on your side of the island. It was big, after all, you were the kook princess- but Sarah seems next in line for the title.

It's proving to be difficult, though, since there are about fifty other kids here- and you're the star of the show. As always. This doesn't bother him, though, not at all. You deserve it, and he can't wait to be on the planning end of all your birthday parties for the rest of your lives.

"Y/N/N! Let's do presents, yeah? I can't wait for you to open mine." Molly smiles at her best friend, guiding her over to the firepit area next to the gift table. Rafe is all ears, confident with his hiding place as he makes his way over too, sitting a couple of seats down so you'd have room for your friends as well. Not everyone wanted to watch you open your gifts, that seemed like a childish thing, almost, so the party just continued around you.

"Rafe, how are you?" You asked him with a smile while your other friends sat down. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm good, yeah. Happy birthday, by the way." Rafe replies, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shorts. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course! It wouldn't be a party without you." You giggle, about to speak again when Molly is thrusting a box in your lap, wrapped with pink paper and a glittery bow.

"Here, this one first- it's from Ava and Maya." She explains, even though you're already reading the attached tag. You nod, looking over to the two girls.

After about forty minutes of Rafe watching you open gift after gift, he's getting nervous. He didn't get you anything extravagant, only a small bracelet with a little note. He didn't want you to think he was crazy, or weird.

He looks over just as you help tuck away the last of the garbage into an empty bag, not wanting to leave a mess on your friend's lawn. He's sure that the whole time you were opening gifts, you didn't let a single piece of stray wrapping paper or tape hit the ground. You were so considerate.

"Hey, wait- Y/N/N, here's another one. I think this is it." Molly says, walking over and dropping the small bag into your hands.

No, no- god, you can't open this in front of so many people. Rafe's hands start to shake as he watches you helplessly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as you carefully pull out the small box. You smile softly as you turn it over in your hands, and maybe, Rafe thinks, it will be fine. Maybe you'll open it and then love it and read the card and nod at him with that beautiful smile he knows so well, and then he'll finally have his chance.

"Who's it from?" He's pulled quickly from his daydream as he watches you open the now unwrapped box, smiling wide and placing your hand over your chest. "That's beautiful, Y/N/N." Molly smiles, crouched next to her best friend as she stares over the delicate bracelet as well.

"It is..." You sigh softly, placing it back down gently in the box.

"Yeah, who is it from?" Molly asks again, taking the bag and digging out the card. Rafe wants to speak up but he can't, knowing that would incriminate himself further. He's frozen as she opens it, his hands getting clammy as she starts reading it out loud without scanning the intention of the letters first.

"Dear Y/N." She smiles, confident as she continues reading and Rafe sinks back in his seat, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose. "Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl on the island. I wouldn't doubt it for a second if someone told me you were the most beautiful in all the world." She reads and you pout, blushing as you clutch your hands to your chest, all your friends going "aw" along with Molly, who's taken a pause in her reading to gush over how sweet that is. "Anyway, I'm hoping you'll let me take you out for dinner later this week, I'd really love to get to know you better." She continues, pausing a little before quietly reading off the final line. "Love always, Rafe..." She trails off, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Not everyone heard his name, but even her looking at him was enough to send everyone else watching the signal nonetheless. "Wait, Molls, why would you read that out, that was meant to be private, I think..." You whisper to her, guilt crossing your features as you look nervously between her and Rafe.

"Oh... oops." Molly replies, looking back at Rafe again apologetically. "Rafe, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine, uh, yeah it's cool. I, Uh, I've got to- yeah..." Rafe says, getting up quickly and heading for the door of the house.

"Rafe! Wait!" You call after him, handing the box and the note back to your friend and getting up to follow him quickly. You get inside just as you hear the bathroom door close, sighing a little to yourself. You'll wait here for him to come out so you can talk, and this will give you time to think over the best way to apologize.

As the light flickers off in the bathroom, Rafe knows he can't face you after that, quick to clench his fists at his sides and think of that morning- wishing that the whole thing never happened.

Four:

"How much do you know about Y/N?" Rafe asks his friends, watching you tee off on the hole ahead of them. The way your tennis skirt matches your headband makes his head honestly spin, you're so intentional with every outfit you wear- he thinks it's adorable. No one on the island dresses as well as you, in his opinion.

"What do you mean, like, how she is in bed? You'd have to ask her ex." Kelce laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously not." Rafe blushes. "Like, what kind of guys does she even like?"

"Why, you gonna ask her out?" Kelce laughs a little, stopping as he sees that Rafe is serious. "Oh- I mean, her ex was a total douchebag, so that's a good place to start. Apparently, she likes assholes."

Rafe nods a little, watching you drive off in the golf cart with your friends. He knows that so far trying to be himself has had a zero percent success rate, so maybe it's time to try a different approach. He can be more of the guy he is when he's alone with his friends, emulating a much more masculine, fuckboy vibe. The worst that could happen has already happened, twice.

On the last hole, with a few more drinks of what Topper called "liquid courage", he flattens the creases out of his jeans and jogs up to catch up with you. "Hey, ladies- can I borrow Y/N for a sec?" He asks your friends, not waiting for a response before continuing. "Thanks- 'preciate it."

He strides up to you as you and your friends look between each other in confusion. This isn't the Rafe you normally know, who you've grown to have a crush on. You take a few steps away with him, but not enough to be out of earshot from your friends, they obviously know about your secret feelings for the boy, and would love to listen in.

"Hey, so, uh," He stammers a little, quickly trying to get back on track with his attitude. But the way you're looking at him with your big, beautiful eyes as you smile at him expectantly, nervously almost, is throwing him off. He's never been this confident around you. "My friend really likes you, but I told him I'd ask you out first to see if you're worth it." He smirks, shifting his weight on his feet.

Your face falls- and you look hurt. He feels a pang in his chest. He did this to you, maybe Kelce's advice was bad after all. Your friends gasp, obviously hearing everything. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard!" Your best friend, Molly, yells at him, quickly stomping over to you while you try and figure out what to say.

"Is this some sick prank?" Molly says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and looking at you closely as you can't fight back the tears.

"I- wait, wait, no! I- I'm sorry I just-" Rafe tries to defend, shaking his head quickly and holding his hands up to the two of you.

"Get out of here, you prick!" She says, accentuating her desires by throwing her drink in his face.

Rafe wipes the drink out of his eyes, turning quickly and making a break for his friends. He can't save this situation now- he just had to escape.

"That was unbelievable!" Your other friend says as you get back to the golf cart, sitting down and wiping your tears.

"What a fucking loser." Molly adds, shaking her head as she watches him run away.

Rafe is met with his friends laughing hysterically at him, taking in the sight of his soaked polo shirt up close. "Dude- what did you say to her?" Topper laughs and Rafe grumbles as he sits in the cart, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's just go back to the club." He mutters, that same broom closet calling his name yet again.

Five:

No drinks, no pools, and now, no Molly. Rafe figures his best move at this time is to just text you. He doesn't have your number, not yet, but he does have your Instagram- and the DM feature seems like his most viable option, at this point.

rafecameron: hey, how are you?

yourinstagram: i'm good!! how are you?

Rafe is surprised he gets a response back so quickly, sitting up straighter at the kitchen island, where he's sitting eating his lunch.

rafecameron: i'm good. enjoying the summer so far. the weather has been perfect for wakeboarding.

God, the weather? Could he bring up anything more boring? He scolds himself mentally as he sees that she's typing, his leg bouncing a mile a minute on the stool he's sitting cross-legged on, his bowl of cereal left forgotten in front of him.

yourinstagram: that's awesome :) i haven't got much surfing or wakeboarding in this summer yet unfortunately, just haven't thought about it much i guess

At least she's trying to make small talk, Rafe assumes that's a good sign. It's perfect, actually- he can offer to take you out boating, especially if you haven't had the chance yet.

rafecameron: i have the boat tomorrow if you're free? we could grab drinks or something at the club after

Rafe sends the message and quickly places his phone upside down on the counter, but he can't resist lifting it again as soon as his phone buzzes.

He furrows his brow as he's seen you sent a photo. He opens the text thread, blood draining from his face when he sees the screenshot of this exact conversation pop up along with a message.

yourinstagram: *photo* yourinstagram: OH MY GOD MOLLS- I THINK RAFE IS ASKING ME OUT???

Clearly, that wasn't meant for him- but that doesn't make it any easier to read. He has to assume that's a bad thing- that you're trying to figure out, with the help of your best friend, how to let him down easily.

Rafe groans and tosses his phone back onto the counter, leaving it to go up into his windowless walk-in closet and take back that he texted you at all.

Six:

At the annual bonfire, Rafe is just wandering around looking for someone to talk to. His friends are busy throwing random things into the flames, seeing how high they could make the fire go. He lost interest very quickly. He's feeling down on his luck, after his five poor attempts at getting a date with you, even if no one else knows about any of them- not even you. Its embarrassment not fading, despite the summer passing quickly. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, everything happens for a reason, surely. That doesn't mean he wouldn't really like a chance.

He's standing at the keg, pouring himself another beer when he sees you. You're off, a little in the distance all alone, walking along the shore and occasionally crouching down. He's confused for a moment as to what you're doing, but then he realizes- you're collecting seashells. Of course you are. It makes him smile a little to himself. Everyone around him is so concerned about getting drunk, high, whatever their vice is- but you just want to do your own thing.

He hands his cup off to a kid standing nearby who gratefully takes it, and starts his way down the sand to join you.

"Finding anything good?" He asks as he approaches you.

You're quick to stand up, turning to face him. "Oh, Rafe! Hey." You smile, looking down at your now long empty solo cup, filled almost to the brim with small seashells and pretty rocks. "Yeah, here." You hold out the one you just picked up, dropping it gently into his hand.

He cups the small shell in his hand and smiles, looking up at you again. "It's beautiful." He agrees. "Can I help?"

"Sure." You smile, nodding as you look up at him. The light from the distant bonfire falls right behind him, shining through his hair and his unbuttoned striped shirt. "I don't have a lot of room left, though." You show him the cup.

"Well, you're probably better at finding them than me. I can hardly see anything." Rafe chuckles, shrugging a little as the two of you continue down the beach, the music getting more and more quiet with every ten steps. You can only really hear the waves crashing beside you, despite the water being mostly calm.

You're both silent for a minute or two, scanning the ground for more shells. Rafe's mind is running a million miles a minute. Now's his shot, he's doing better than before- he hasn't offended you, spilled a drink on you, or pushed you into the ocean, everything is calm and there's no one around. Maybe he should make small talk first, bring it up later if you still want to talk to him by the end of the night.

"How's your-"

"So, I-"

You both start talking at the same time, making you both laugh. You count yourself lucky that he can't see how red your face is.

"You go first." Rafe insists, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. He could listen to you talk about anything, for hours; he's sure of it. He could never tire of the sound of your voice.

"Okay, well," You giggle, looking down and picking up a shell you catch a glimpse of in the moonlight. "I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Go for coffee, or something like that."

Rafe stops walking, staring at you and fighting back smiling like a crazy person. You wanted to hang out with him? After all this time, after all the energy he's put into trying to ask you out, you would have said yes this whole time?

"Like... like a date?" He asks, mentally slapping his hand against his forehead and trying to remember where the nearest bathroom or closet might be.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want." You reply, turning to face him fully.

He looks over your features as you smile at him, how the ocean breeze has pushed your hair over one shoulder and how a few shorter strands fly around your face. He nods, mouth dry as he tries to find the words. "Yeah, yeah I would love that." He agrees. "I, uh, I was actually going to ask you the same thing." He says, looking down as he kicks away some sand.

"You were?" You giggle. God, the sound of your laugh alone makes his heart beat faster.

"I only tried about five times over the course of the summer, could never make it to actually talking to you, though." Rafe admits, laughing slightly.

"Why not? I don't scare you, do I?" You laugh, tilting your head at him and brushing some hair away from where it's gotten stuck to your lips in the wind.

"Not anymore." Rafe grins, continuing to talk past you and you turn with him, joining his side again as he turns the seashell you have him over in his palm. This time, he wants to relive this night for all the right reasons.

taglist: @bookishbabyyyyy @madelynie, @mutual-mendes, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @ragingsammie, @ietss

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fluff #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafecameron #rafe fanfiction #outer banks #obx

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pocketramblr · 1 year

Note

Headcanons for OFA stockpiles beauty, tddk version, please.

1- ok so dorms happen earlier in the first semester, after the revelation that Shigaraki carries a picture around of Izuku and the winged nomu targeted him to carry off. But in the meantime while they're being built, UA is like 'maybe we should get this kid a protective detail or someone at least watching him off campus'. Tenya and Shoto are both in the hospital room while that's discussed, and both immediately offer their connections- but with the Iida family focusing on their sons right now, it makes more sense to see if they can take the Todorokis up on it instead. Which means that now, Izuku is alternating between staying with All Might (doesn't want to impose or run more of his time down) or the Todorokis (also doesn't want to impose, but its nice to get to know his friend more!)

2- Enji isn't thrilled about the protective detail, but he figures pretty quickly this kid's got some connection to All Might and would like to figure out what- and uh yeah Shoto's crush on him is as obvious as it is understandable, so he wants to keep an eye on that to make sure he isn't distracted now that he's finally using his fire.

He is very specific about Izuku getting a guest room in a different wing of the house from Shoto.

It doesn't matter much, since they spend a lot of time out with friends after school or together in the living room or dojo anyway.

3- Fuyumi decides to try and help her brother out, asking Izuku a couple questions while he's helping her cook and Shoto's gone to visit Rei one Sunday. She says she's sure he's the heartbreaker of his class, any datemate?

Izuku laughs uncomfortably, says no, but gets why she asked- its a side effect of his quirk, he isn't really as attractive as it seems, no one is actually likes him, just the quirk tricking them too.

Fuyumi gets very quiet and very serious, and says she's sorry. Sometimes, quirks don't seem worth the trouble, and he's in hard spot- but she's sure at some point, someone will see the real him, and like the real him, besides from the glamour. Izuku thanks her, and after dinner Fuyumi pulls Shoto aside to bring up the quirk and if he thinks he's under the effect of it, or if he has a real crush on him.

Shoto stares at her, and says he doesn't have a crush on Izuku, he's just objectively attractive and a brilliant friend.

Fuyumi realizes he's as oblivious as Izuku, and both beyond her help.

4- Shoto realizes that night that Fuyumi was right, but as a youngest sibling is physically incapable of admitting that so soon, and decides to simply act as if it was a slowburn unrelated to anything she said, and that itll probably be easy, since Izuku is so clearly over any attempts to woo him. He doesn't want to be pushy. He doesn't want Izuku to feel like Rei. So instead, he just acts friendly. Gets him All Might merch for his birthday, keeps a poker face when Izuku joins them in the hot spring at camp even if he cant quite control the temperature reaction, and keeps a lookout/causes distractions to make having quiet meetings with All Might easier for him.

5- Ok i dont know how but imagine whatever convoluted scenario needs to happen for Izuku to get shot with a temporary eraser bullet. this is mostly because he deserves to go feral and smart and fight quirkless again, but also because everyone realizes he does look/seem different this way, until the glamour comes back- everyone except Shoto, who didn't notice a difference and says it, which startles some tears out of Izuku only for him to bury that deep, deep down because he's got a while before he's gonna confront the mortifying ordeal of having a crush of his own

#ofa stockpiles beauty: tddk version #gentrychild #pocket talls to people #ask game #ofa stockpiles beauty au

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strangerqueerthings · 10 months

Text

Got a three-fer here for @mungrovebingos!

Summary: Billy's recovery has been a long process, and his spirits are low, even five years after his near death at Starcourt Mall. Eddie has just the thing to boost Billy's morale- and even Mother Nature decides to lend a hand. Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings: PTSD, Body Image Issues, Post injury recovery, scars, hospital stays, medical content, serious injuries, hurt/comfort. Read here, or on AO3!

Once, Billy had thought that living was hard. That dying would have been easier.

The truth was, neither was easier.

Living was hard, because it meant dealing with Neil, protecting and caring for a step-sister he’d never asked for, while trying to graduate, get a job, and get the fuck out of the hellhole that was supposed to be home- and try not to be eaten alive by the guilt of leaving Max to Neil’s cruelty.

Nearly dying had been excruciating. The pain didn’t end, and death didn’t come for him; it had simply sat there on the sidelines and laughed at him, taunting him with release as he succumbed to a coma instead.

Billy had woken up to a world of pain like he’d never experienced.

His entire digestive system was rocked to its core from the chemicals he’d been forced to consume- as well as whatever that thing had pumped into him. His liver was on its last legs, and doctors had placed him on a transplant list in the likely chance it failed.

It was still nothing compared to the damage to his torso.

He had sustained a gaping wound in his chest, his sternum broken in two. Ribs on each side were broken, his spleen had ruptured- and removed while he was in his coma- and he’d lost a kidney.

He’d been placed in a medical coma for his own sanity- with only ten percent of his liver functioning, they couldn’t give him any pain medication stronger than Tylenol. To spare him the agony, they’d put him under, hooking him up to a ventilator, with a feeding tube that went directly into his small intestine, since his stomach was so damaged. He was also put on a high dose of daily antacids to help his stomach heal.

Meanwhile, his chest had been operated on multiple times, his sternum put back together with a titanium fixation plate, his ribs left to heal naturally, and the organs damaged beyond repair were removed- his spleen, the kidney, a large part of his liver, gall bladder, and what remained of his thymus.

The doctors had told Neil not to get his hopes up, that his chances of survival were less than twenty percent.

Neil didn’t come back after that last consult- in fact, he’d left Hawkins altogether.

To everyone’s surprise, Billy proved them wrong.

He lived. He healed.

He started to come back, his body pulling itself together. The ulcers in his stomach and the inflammation in his intestines healed. His bones slowly knit themselves together. His surviving kidney was tolerating the doubled load better than expected, and his liver was regenerating faster than anyone had dared to dream- going from ten percent functionality to nearly fifty.

Billy Hargrove would survive- like he always did. And like everything else in his life that had to be survived, his recovery would be long, painful, and slow.

All the while, in his coma, Billy dreamed of the Pacific Ocean. He dreamed of memories of cold water, seven foot waves, sandals covered in sand, and an orca calf with freckles on the white parts of its jaw and lower belly, leaping out of the water in a moment of pure, joyous freedom.

It was the snoring he’d woken up to. He’d opened his eyes, looked to his right, and found Eddie there in the chair, arms folded on Billy’s bed, head resting on them as he snored. His messy hair was a nightmare, and Billy could tell from a glance that Eddie hadn’t changed in days- he probably only left to change or shower when hospital staff told him to.

Billy had let out a soft snort through his nose- muffled by the cannula feeding oxygen into his nose- then put his hand on Eddie’s head, stroking the disaster that was his hair. Eddie had stirred, lifting his head, and his big brown eyes became even bigger, filling with tears, glittering in the fluorescent lights.

“Welcome back,” he’d said, tears spilling over cheeks that had the imprint of the sleeves of his jacket.

“What’d I miss?” Billy had asked, voice dry, hoarse and rough from months of being on a ventilator.

He was worried the feelings that had started to cultivate between them had faded, that Eddie might change his mind after seeing the damage done to him, but Eddie had let out a sobbing laugh, and without a word, simply leaned over and kissed him- answering any silent doubts Billy woke up with.

That was nearly five years ago, and after grueling physical therapy, after trauma therapy that was even harder, Billy was as close to being “back to normal” as he ever could be.

His chest was tight, stiff, the large scar was unpleasant to look at- shiny, gnarled tissue that was waxy, hard, and disconnected from his chest wall. It restricted his movements, made it hard to get comfortable when sleeping, and it constantly was shot through with jolts of electricity, or bouts of itching deep under the scar tissue.

The doctors assured him the pain and the itching was normal, that it was good- it meant he was healing. To Billy, it was just a reminder of the traumatic injury that caused it, and he hated it. He’d rather it stay numb than have it heal.

He was tired of the pain shooting through his sternum and ribs, waking him from sleep, turning his dreams into nightmarish flashbacks of melted people piercing his chest and attempting to kill him as fanged tentacles sank their teeth into his sides, trying to rend him from limb to limb.

Billy was tired of waking up, drenched in a cold, acrid sweat that reeked of battery acid. The doctors told him it was from the high protein diet he’d been on to speed up his healing, but Billy still smelled the chemicals that the monster had made him choke down, still felt the burn of chlorine and boric acid in his throat.

He still couldn’t taste things properly, but his diet was so simple now, thanks to the damage done to his stomach, that it didn’t really matter much anyway.

He could only take Tylenol- anything else was too hard on his stomach and liver, and both were still recovering from what the monster had made him swallow. Billy didn’t bother with Tylenol- it didn’t touch his pain.

Weed helped, though. He and Eddie didn’t know if it would hurt his liver or not- and they sure as fuck weren’t going to ask doctors about it- but it helped. The high helped him sleep, calmed his anxiety responses to loud noises and bright lights. It didn’t entirely help his pain, but it soothed the inflammation of his scar tissue after his daily massaging.

Eddie had been consulting with some folks in Portland, and they’d sent him lotions and balms infused with cannabis oil. Beeswax, goat’s milk, castor oil with rosemary, lavender, or peppermint, cocoa butter- all different sorts of things for Billy to try.

They all helped a great deal with massaging his scars, and Eddie had been more than happy to rub his back down, tracing shapes in the patterns, kissing them when he was done, and telling Billy how much of a bad ass he looked.

Billy always scoffed, but the truth was, it helped him feel better about the scars. He used to go out shirtless, or with an open shirt or jacket, showing off the body he’d cultivated- muscular and tan, the 1980’s ideal.

Now, it was 1990, almost at the five year anniversary of his brush with death, and Billy wasn’t too fond of his body anymore. His range of movement, strength and flexibility were still restricted, and he had to keep his skin protected and covered to prevent the scars from becoming worse- they were already painful, since the larger ones were contracture scars.

Billy was thinner, struggling to keep up the muscle tone he’d once had, working so hard with physical therapy, massage and manipulation of his scar tissue to soften it up, and he was paler of skin and darker of hair while avoiding the sun to keep it from thickening his scars.

He’d been miserable, despite his progress, and it tore Eddie up to see him that way, so he’d suggested the road trip to California, to the coast Billy knew so well, had spoken so fondly of, and so often.

So they’d made the trip. It had been slow going- Billy didn’t have the stamina he used to for driving, so Eddie had taken the wheel, and dealt with Billy’s passenger-seat driving. They’d stopped at rest stops to save money, or shitty motels when the rest stops weren’t safe enough, and Eddie had patiently, lovingly worked out the knots in Billy’s muscles, massaged CBD balms into his scars, and they’d eaten pizza on lumpy or sagging mattresses, watching late night TV before sleeping.

There was a night where they stopped at a gas station in a questionable place where they attracted instant attention because they stood too close together at the line for the register. In the lot next to the gas station, the locals were having a riotous party that involved their jacked-up trucks that kept backfiring loudly.

Every bang, every hoot and holler that came from the trucks had Billy flinching, until he was actively shaking, a sweat breaking out on his face. Eddie hurried to pay when it was their turn, and the cashier gave Billy an odd look.

“You okay, hon?”

Billy clutched at the collar of his tank top, trying to cool himself down, and the top of his scar became visible. Eddie saw her expression change to horror.

“Shh,” Eddie hissed to her in a conspiratorial whisper as he handed her the money for the gas. “He was in the Army; combat damage, and he’s got that Post Traumatic stress thing.”

The woman nodded, her eyes going doleful.

“So young…. Thank you for your service, honey,” she said in a sorrowful tone, giving him a salute as Eddie gently herded him back to the car.

It had taken Billy nearly an hour to come down from the panic attack, and once he’d calmed, he fell asleep. Eddie elected to keep driving- Nebraska was no place for them to stop, and they were mere miles from the Colorado border.

It got easier, the further west they went. They weren’t going to San Diego- Billy knew those beaches, but the risk that Neil went back there was too high. The city was big, but so was Neil’s network of contacts that had found out Billy’s sexuality and spurred Neil’s decision to move to Hawkins.

The last thing Billy needed for his recovery was having Neil find him.

So instead, they were headed to Monterey Bay, south of San Francisco. Eddie had heard it was a good place for beginner surfers, which meant it would be easier for Billy to get back on the board, and indulge in some exercise that wouldn’t be too dangerous for him, while still being enjoyable.

He’d told Billy they were going to San Francisco to spend time in a place where there were fellow queer folks, and they could just disappear into the crowd for a bit, and be normal. The trip to Monterey Bay was a surprise.

And now, after a careful week of driving, they had reached Monterey Bay. It was three in the morning, and Billy was sleeping soundly in the front seat. Eddie did his best not to wake him as he stopped at a few motels, comparing prices, before finally settling on one that was cheap and right by the beach- it was the off season for another week or two, so prices and availability were at a premium.

Eddie booked their room for a week, then came back to the car. He opened Billy’s door and carefully, gently roused him from his sleep. Billy jerked awake with a snort, sitting up and looking around warily.

“Where are we?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. Eddie rubbed his shoulder and handed him the room key.

“The motel. Booked us in for a week. Let’s get you into a decent bed and get some actual sleep, yeah?”

Billy nodded, blinking sleep-fogged eyes as he got out of the car and did a full body stretch, only stopping when his scars tugged and protested. Eddie didn’t react to Billy’s sudden stiffening, the frustration in his face- the last thing Billy needed or wanted was pity. It meant his weakness was obvious, and Eddie didn’t want him to feel weak. Still, Eddie hauled their luggage out of the trunk of the car and carried it in, letting Billy unlock the door.

The room was nice and cool, and Billy sighed gratefully- he never did regain his heat tolerance, still preferring the cold to heat. Eddie didn’t mind- the colder it was, the easier it was to snuggle up to Billy while he slept, without overheating Billy in the process.

Billy went back outside to lock the car up as Eddie took inventory of the room. He was rather satisfied with it, all things considered- well worth the nightly cost of thirty bucks. It was a bit more than he wanted to spend, but the motel was clean, close to the beach, and since it wasn’t a hotel, it wasn’t as likely to fill up as quickly, giving them a bit of disconnect from the public.

The room had a sofa with a pull-out bed- which Eddie dumped their luggage on- and a single king-sized bed. It had a small table with two chairs, a dresser with two sets of drawers, a TV with a VCR, cable, and a mini fridge that actually had a separate freezer. The bathroom had a decent enough sized tub with a sliding door of frosted glass for the shower.

Eddie unpacked their clothes while Billy took a leak, and shed his clothes, changing into a fresh pair of boxers. He shoved his dirty clothes in a plastic shopping bag as Billy came out to wash his hands.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Eddie told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping past for his turn in the bathroom. Billy rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but still helped himself to the trial sized tube of toothpaste and the travel toothbrush left on the counter, too tired to dig through their bags for his own.

While Eddie prepped for bed, Billy closed the curtains tight, locked the door, slid the chain home, turned the thermostat down as far as it would go, and the AC on as high as possible. When Eddie emerged, hair and teeth brushed, the room had dropped by five degrees, and Billy was sprawled on the bed. He’d peeled the blankets back, folding them so Eddie could have them all.

“Gonna get cold as hell in here,” Eddie commented, sliding under the covers and nestling up against Billy’s side.

Billy was resting on his back, arm outstretched so Eddie could curl against his side, using his chest as a pillow. His scars had finally healed to the point where Eddie could rest his cheek on Billy’s chest without causing him discomfort, and it was a major milestone in Billy’s recovery- the reclamation of his intimacy with Eddie.

“So what’s the plan tomorrow… or later, rather?” Billy said, voice already thick with sleep again, lulled by the siren song of freezing AC, Eddie’s warmth, and a comfortable bed.

On the night stand, the alarm clock glared at them with red digits, telling them it was four am. Eddie closed his eyes, ignoring it- time didn’t matter when they were on vacation- and nuzzled into Billy’s chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady under his cheek, reassuring and soothing.

“No plan,” Eddie murmured. “Nothing pressing, anyway. But there is a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Billy asked, and Eddie heard his heart speed up a bit. Eddie stroked his scars gently.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” he soothed. “Just… listen.”

As if trying to help him out, the AC stopped humming, having reached the set temperature. Bill was quiet, and Eddie waited as the sound of waves reached his ears.

“We’re right by the beach,” Billy said wonderingly. “How’d you afford a motel in San Francisco on the beach, babe?”

“I didn’t. We’re at Monterey Bay,” Eddie told him, smiling.

“Eddie….”

“You like the cold even more now, so I figured, it’s not full tourist season yet, so the beach won’t be as crowded, the water will be perfect for you, and the waves are decent, but not overwhelming, so you can surf a bit without overdoing it.”

Billy made a soft sound in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a sob being choked back. He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms and legs around Eddie, clinging to him like a piece of flotsam in a flood.

“Thank you, Eddie,” he whispered into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie smiled in the darkness, hearing Billy’s heartbeat, the waves outside, and feeling Billy’s warmth seeping into the bed, into his bones, reigniting the fatigue that he’d been fighting all night.

“For now, let’s sleep,” he told Billy, stroking his back. “And when we’re rested, let’s go to the beach.”

Billy nodded, and with one final shudder, his muscles relaxed, and he stopped fighting the fatigue born of anxiety, a long car ride, and worry about the unknown, succumbing to sleep- and taking Eddie with him.

——

Their fatigue was deeper than either of them realized- neither of them woke until nearly five in the evening, sleeping more than twelve hours.

It was Billy who woke up first, roused by the sound of the waves and the gnawing of his stomach. He untangled himself from Eddie’s arms and legs, then slid out of bed and moved to the bag of snacks on the sofa. A half empty bag of beef jerky called his name, and he sat on the foot of the bed, gnawing on it, staring into space contentedly.

Eddie’s breathing was starting to quicken, and he stirred under the blankets. His stomach let out a roar of protest, and with a grumble, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Billy tried not to laugh at the mess his hair had become- as it always was when he woke up.

“Hungry?” he asked, holding out the bag. “There’s a quarter left, give or take.”

Eddie shook his head, yawning and stretching, his back popping.

“Thinking of ordering take out- there’s a binder that has menus, numbers and shit of local places that deliver.”

Billy deflated a little as Eddie got out of bed and swiped the binder from the dresser.

“We’ve had enough junk food, babe,” he pointed out, his stomach still grumbling, unsatisfied with the jerky.

Eddie flicked on the light above the headboard of the bed, and pointed to a page in the binder.

“Look. Local seafood- shrimp, fish, crab, pasta, crab cakes…”

Billy’s stomach let out a roar and Eddie laughed as his own stomach echoed the sentiment.

“Yeah, fish and chips sounds amazing.”

“Actual seafood, locally caught,” Billy breathed. “Fuck, that sounds so good.”

Eddie grinned.

“You order for us- I’m gonna take a shower because I caught a whiff of my own pits and I reek. You can join me after you order us some food, and by the time we’re done, it’ll be here, and we can go eat it on the beach.”

Billy smiled.

“That sounds amazing. Fish and chips, then?”

“Yeah, with extra lemon, ketchup instead of tartar sauce, and a sweet tea with lemon.”

Eddie kissed Billy’s forehead, then disappeared into the bathroom while Billy ordered their dinner- Eddie’s fish and chips, and a basket of fried mahi mahi, grilled salmon, fried shrimp, and a large order of french fries, with two large cokes. He suspected Eddie would want to sample from his plate, as he was wont to do, and he decided if Eddie was going to sample some of his seafood, there would be good seafood, and plenty of it.

Billy waited for Eddie to finish showering before taking one himself. He still had issues being seen in full light, still needed to be alone when he had to touch his scars.

Eddie was patient in that regard. He never asked Billy to take showers together, never demanded bright lights when they were intimate. Billy was getting better, though- he could handle a lamp or two being on, and didn't flinch anymore when Eddie's hands brushed over his scars.

It was different in a shower, when he was naked and there was no expectation of intimacy to distract Eddie from his scars. He felt too exposed, too vulnerable.

Eddie was okay with that. He'd wait as long as it took, as long as Billy needed, to be comfortable in his own skin again.

The food arrived after an hour- Eddie was ravenous, but didn't begrudge the delivery guy for the wait, tipping him well. The bag of food had steam billowing from the seams, and it was hot in his hands. The drinks were still cold and full of ice, the plastic cups beaded in condensation.

Billy came out, wearing swim trunks and a tank top, drying his hair with a towel. He sniffed the air and his stomach let out a roar. Eddie grinned and held up the bag.

“Dinner's here!”

Billy headed for the table, but Eddie shook his head, shoving his feet into his Reeboks.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing the throw blanket from the end of the bed. “Get the drinks, let's go eat this on the beach.”

Billy's face lit up, and he slipped into his flip-flops, grabbing the drinks and the room key. Together, the locked the room up, and headed for the beach.

The sun was setting, and there weren't many people around. The surf was loud, soothing, and the sky was a rich gradient of gold, orange, red, wine, and dark indigo blue, with a splattering of stars starting to shine through. On the horizon, Billy could see sparks of light that he knew were Mars and Venus.

Eddie spread out the blanket on a soft, level patch of sand just far enough from the waterline that they wouldn't get wet, but close enough that it was only a few steps to get his feet in the water.

The two of them sat down, pulling out their dinner and setting it out. Though they'd ordered their own meal, they shared, eating in companionable silence only broken by commentary on the food, or soft laughter or sounds of appreciation.

Eddie felt flustered as occasionally, Billy held out morsels for him to try, refusing to let Eddie take them with his hands- he put them directly in Eddie's mouth, his eyes glittering in the light of the fading sunset, love and gratitude written all over his face.

“I needed this. So much.”

Eddie wiped grease off on his jeans and reached over to take Billy's hand, squeezing it.

“I know. Was it a good surprise?” he asked.

Billy nodded, his eyes shining, and he looked over the water. The sunset was almost gone, a thin sliver of gold and red shining over the edge of the horizon, casting an orange light over the water in stark contrast with the wine-dark ocean and the sparkling stars overhead.

”I don't think it could get any better,“ he said softly.

”Maybe if you could surf?“ Eddie suggested, and Billy shook his head, squeezing Eddie's hand again.

”Tomorrow. For now? This is all I need.“

He leaned in to kiss Eddie, and a massive splash of water caught their attention.

Out of the water, the remaining sunlight shining on its slick rubbery skin, leapt a massive killer whale. It let out the breath from its lungs in a great burst of air before crashing back into the water again.

Billy was on his feet, running for the tide, Eddie following. Billy went as far as waist deep, staring at the water with eyes wide.

“Billy?”

Billy didn't answer. The orca breached again, this time, his belly facing them, his massive, elegant body twisting as he leapt for the sheer joy of it, as if trying to fly, and not caring if he succeeded- because the attempt was all that mattered.

Tears rolled down his face as he saw the freckles on the white parts of the orca's chin and belly- the very same he'd seen on a calf nearly a decade ago.

“You made it,” he whispered. “You grew up.”

Eddie was in the water beside him, his arm around his waist. The water was cold around their legs, the sand fine and coarse under their feet, between their toes, swirling in the tide.

“You… you know this whale?” Eddie joked gently. “He owe you money for a surfing contest, because it looks like he'd win.”

Billy laughed, pulling Eddie against him, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face.

“I saw him when I was ten. I was surfing, and this calf just leaps out of the water, and I saw a freckle on his belly, on his jaw. He was the spunkiest, happiest thing I'd ever seen in my life.”

Billy smiled. A real, genuine smile.

“I dreamt about him when I was in a coma. About coming home, and seeing him again. And here he is, all grown up. He's HUGE, he's powerful and he's still free and happy.“

Another splash, a short distance away, and another orca leapt out of the water. This one was a bit smaller, with a shorter dorsal fin- and there was a calf at its side. Billy's smile grew.

”Is that your kid, big guy?“ Billy asked the orca, even if he couldn't hear the question. ”Did you find a family of your own?“

One by one, more orcas began to join the acrobatics, and soon, there was close to ten of them, all leaping, breaching, splashing with their tails, rolling in the water, playing with the calves, and high pitched calls sounded over and through the water as they talked to one another.

Billy turned and buried his face in Eddie's chest, his shoulders shaking, tears soaking Eddie's shirt. Eddie held him close, alarmed.

”Billy, you okay?“ he asked, worried.

”I'm better than okay,“ Billy managed.

Eddie held him, waiting for him to recover, to regain his composure. When Billy pulled away again, he was smiling.

”They're welcoming me home, Eddie.“

”Yeah, you really do belong here,“ Eddie agreed, thinking they needed to make this trip permanent, that they needed to move here for Billy's well being. Already, his mind was making plans, lists, mapping out the move and the logistics behind it.

Billy shook his head.

”I wouldn't have come here, wouldn't have seen them, wouldn't have had this chance at recovering, if it wasn't for you, Eddie,“ he said.

He rested his head on Eddie's shoulders, letting the waves crash against his waist, feeling the sand under his feet, watching the orcas dance.

”Me?“ Eddie asked, and Billy nodded.

”It's you, Eddie. Wherever you are, is home.“

Eddie swallowed a shuddering, happy breath, resting his cheek against Billy's head, and the two of them watched the orcas dance under the stars.

#mungrove #mungrovesummerbingo2023 #sqt drabble

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summitclan-chronicles · 5 months

Note

I'm curious about the one character rule, is there any specific reason for that?

Oooh, you just opened a 12-ft bag of Excited Nattering.

• Your knowledge is your character's knowledge. I'm gonna be transparent here, I have a massive pet peeve against metagaming (giving a character knowledge they don't have). With multiple characters it's insanely easy to accidentally give one character the knowledge of another, by accident or on purpose to give them the upper hand. If you and your character have the same amount of information, you can't transfer unknowable knowledge.

• Population Control. one thing I noticed about the roleplays of my youth was how big the Clans got, how fast they grew and how often the allegiances were mostly inactive characters. When you combine in-character births with "poof" characters and outsiders joining without rhyme or reason, it causes a Clan to explosively grow in size. There was very little opportunity to gather the entire Clan together, either due to inactivity or sheer volume, and much of the time I felt as if characters in all roles got lost in the shuffle. With fewer cats, the spotlight broadens and everyone can have their time.

• It makes being a parent or mentor special. With everyone having one cat, I can make roles to prevent certain players from seeing the lore. This makes them dependant on more experienced members to teach them, and everything they learn will be a true and genuine revelation associated with that more experienced member that brought it to them.

• It makes it easier to keep secrets. Some plots may be kept quiet for a certain period of time to preserve the shock factor! If everyone had multiple characters we'd have fewer replies written out of genuine emotion ;)

• It requires less time & brainpower. Remembering all the social ties and historical bullet points of multiple characters can prove overwhelming for some, and it can lead to crossed wires too! With only one character you only have to remember things as they associate to your memory - because this reflects your character's memory. Additionally, when you pop into Summitclan for replies, there's no steep expectation or pressure to be in multiple threads with multiple characters at once. You can rest easy knowing you'll only ever have to reply to one interaction at a time, so you'll never have "threads stacking up uncontrollably in the background while i cry on my desk." (<- me.)

• It means I can put your character in your nickname. That way everyone can figure out who is played by who simply by swiping left on Discord and viewing the member list. Easy correspondance!

• It's neat! It makes Summitclan stand out a bit, I think!

But those are (major) secondary reasons. The big reason has its own name I gave it:

The Joy of Immersion.

This is a little difficult for me to explain so bear with me!

Essentially, I first learned about & joined a wcrp when I was 12 (i know! i know! i was a toddler!) and I had one single cat now lost to time. I was so intimidated by the community at hand and volume of the lore (... relative to 2012, anyway) that I decided to keep one cat for now and I would learn as I read others' posts. I didn't have them for long, as petty tween drama burned the place to the ground. But the experience of seeing the fanClan from the perspective of a single cat was formative.

It felt like the difference between, like, The Sims and Facade.

When you play The Sims, you have everyone's thoughts and opinions and intentions directly at your fingertips. Sure, there's some significant autonomy, but if a housemate suddenly gets up mid-convo you can check and literally observe their intent to go eat yucky Mac and Cheese cus their hunger bar is at a cool 25%. There's no guessing when it comes to the people you live with, and in conversations with neighbors you can still see how they feel about you in clear text and color-codes.

In Facade it is a god damn minefield. At nearly every turn these weird gliding people are verbally sucker punching you. To this day I learn about new strings of dialogue that blow me down. In the moment, typing out your little statements, you have no way of knowing whether your statement will unlock the next step of the game or if Trip is going to ferry you directly out of his house like an unwanted Amazon package.

In short... Facade doesn't tell you anything it just victimizes you, and that was what it felt like.

I was only in control of one tiny piece of a great big bicycle, and everyone else whirled around me with their own lives, their own events, their own perspectives - there was no way for me to read them all, and no way one single character could appreciatively tour them all. I had an opinion about some characters that were not shared by anyone else, because we had two different experiences of that character. And because I only had one cat, one set of eyes, I never found an opportunity to see the character another way: impressions had already been set down, the characters already had history, and there was no re-doing it for a different reaction. Plus, every plot point I put into the air was mostly controlled by other players: I couldn't use older or higher ranked characters to help me along, I had to depend on the interest and cooperation of others.

A consequence of that was a serious, genuine sense of pride when my cat progressed. I managed to get her from 6 moons to about 2 years old (which was probably like, 3 months irl, you know how it goes) before the place fizzled away. Because I had spent much of my time learning the lore directly from my mentor and Clanmates both on purpose and through osmosis, and because I generally had only one lens to learn it through, I felt like I had actually accomplished something when the Clan leader messaged me about her warrior name. It felt like I had actually proven myself in a tangible way, which I could go back and point to - "That was the thread where I learned X thing about Y landmark," "[Name] told me about this rp's Warrior Code in this thread."

I have been chasing that precise feeling forever in order to share it with others. It was such a unique and fascinating experience that overcame my entire body during her warrior ceremony, something I had only ever felt when accomplishing things in my real, actual life! What a wonderful feeling to cultivate in others!

My greatest sadness is that, unavoidably, the first generation of members on SCC won't be able to feel that kit-to-elder accomplishment for their first exposure to the lore. But I hope that in the future, when former members come back and see a painting their character made on a rock 6 real-world years ago was retouched in a thread yesterday, that feeling will make up for it.

#ask #thanks for writing in!#i hope this is a good answer i tried very hard #but some things are meant to be long i suppose!

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tweedstoat · 5 months

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Was Rhaegar hoping for Elia to die giving birth to Aegon? I mean he crowned Lyanna while Elia was still pregnant and before he learned she couldn't have any more children.

I dont think Rhaegar was hoping for Elia to die giving birth for a couple of reasons

1 - He could have just tried killing her in an easier way by making her have a 3rd child and then marrying Lyanna after an appropriate mourning period if thats what he wanted. I cant remember whether it was that the maester said Elia just couldnt have more children (as in couldnt concieve) or whether it was that Elia couldnt have more children safely (as in her and the child would live past the birth). There was quite a gap between when he crowned Lyanna and when he ran off with her and he seems to have run off with her after Aegon was born. This means that he knew Elia possibly wouldnt live past a third pregnancy when he decided to take off with Lyanna. The timeline around Roberts Rebellion is quite fuzzy though so this is hard to piece together. If he ran off with Lyanna before Ageon was born then maybe???

2 - His fixation on the prophecy - the things he is doing with his children (trying to have 3, using the naming scheme of the conquerors, Having Aegon be conceived during the time of the comet etc) stem from a desire to fulfill the prophecy and create the prince that was promised. I know fandom argues about how much him taking off with Lyanna was based on "love" for her vs seeing her as a vessel to bring forth his third child but from his actions during the war we can at least see he isnt actively plotting Elia's death. He kept Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon on dragonstone until Aerys recalled them to KL to use as hostages for Dornish loyalty.

3 - Finally characterisation as a reason he wouldnt do this. In the books Rhaegar isn't portrayed (or thought of by anyone except Robert) as an evil person. Hoping your wife kicks the bucket giving birth to your second kid is Craster level evil and i dont think GRRM set up Rhaegar to be characterized this way. I think he's just selfish/has enough of a messiah complex to simply not care about the way his actions are affecting his first wife. "Of course she'd be happy to be the mother of 2 heroes they're going to save westeros from the long night and shes lucky to be part of that" etc etc.

Also just from an outsiders perspective he seems to be either consciously or subconsciously trying to replicate the original trio of Aegon/Rhaenys/Visenya with himself as Aegon Lyanna as Visenya and Elia as Rhaenys. Snd with his own 3 children as the 3 conquerors. This would require Elia to live and be cast in the role of one of the wives.

Of course the thing is despite not actively hoping for Elia to die his political stupidity and actions cause her death and the deaths of their children anyway. That's one of the things i find so interesting about the situation - hes ostensibly this gentle clever handsome prince who at every turn makes the WORST decision possible.

He probably didnt set out to hurt Elia's feelings during the Tourney of Harrenhal! He probably didn't want to have sex with Elia so soon after her bedrest ended after her 1st pregnancy but you see he has to because the comet is here! He probably wants her on Dragonstone away from his clearly insane father but it's really just easier to leave her in KL and he promises he'll somehow fix all this in some way during an unspecified time during the future!

His moitivations mattered less than the result of his actions because functionally nothing changes if he hoped Elia died. He got her killed anyway. Hes like a bad person but not because hes evil deep down it's because he consistantly makes choices that hurt almost everyone close to him to serve a prophecy. And what makes it even worse is that he seems to realize these are the wrong choices but he goes ahead and makes them anyways because he thinks its for the greater good or its just easier for him personally.

#i think the thing i find interesting about Rhaegar is that hes like if Prince Charming decided to randomly commit arson #and then u find out it isnt random and prince charming burned 800 people alive for a greater cause #like how do you reason or make sense of someone like that? You cant!

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gamenu · 4 months

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"There's a type of communications device we have in the sea that's similar to the phones humans have here on land, but it doesn't rely on electricity or airwave signals to work. They're not as common anymore because they take a long time to craft, but the ones still in existence are valued highly."

Azul sighs, breaking his own rule about good posture to lean forward and prop his chin up on folded arms, looking almost bored as he sags against the desk. When he looks at her though, there's a faint curiosity in his stare. "How do you keep in touch with others who live far away back home? Letters?"

Well, she could fly, so that probably negated the need for some things. Unless the weather was too poor or there happened to be a predator around. That meant there needed to be some kind of communication system in her homeland, right?

-- @mostrohost

When Azul began speaking, she was listening intently. It was one of those little days where the two of them decided to have lunch together. It was good for their business, and their friendship, she thinks! Its lovely to have these little chats together and getting to know better about their vastly different cultures. So to know that the merfolk had devices like the clumsies did. . .it was neat! But the prospect of a long project. . .now that was interesting to know.

"Well. . .we all live tagether. So there's no real need fer anythin'. We can all jus' do thin's word o' mouth 'er sendin' someone ta get others. If need be though, we can do letters. 'er in tha case of quick thin's, we have these kind of funny flower shaped tubes we connect via wire. So if someone was all tha way in tha laundry room, they could even talk ta tha scrap metal fairies. Tha constant need fer far away communication is so. . .weird here. I's not bad, bu' I'm surprised all tha clumsies don't live tagether. I think everyone should have a Home Tree so everyone can be tagether."

Ignoring how literally impossible that is, Naira simply can't comprehend the whole species not living in one area. She's having to live it and witness it with everyone, but she feels like a lot of things would be easier if they stayed with each other.

Still, while explaining her own home to him, the notion of a long time craft was still angrily gnawing at her. She had to know what this device was and how to make it!!! Maybe she could make one for Azul, Floyd, and Jade! "Hey. . .Azul. Tell me more abou' those funny devices youse merfolk have? An' wha' makes 'em take so long ta craft?"

#༼ 🌟 open your messages! ༽#༼ 🌟 Touch my wings and it’ll be the last thing you ever do: TWST ༽#Azul you knew what you were doing by mentioning the craft--

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gldnlitskies · 2 years

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LOLA BACH ( SHE/HER ) is a CIS FEMALE, THIRTY-THREE year old LOUNGE SINGER who has been living in Moorbrooke for ONE YEAR. They were born on APRIL 16th and right now, they are currently residing in TEMPORARILY UNDECIDED. It has been said that they look suspiciously like ZOE KRAVITZ and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose CAN’T FEEL MY FACE by THE WEEKND.

tw: drugs mention, drug use mention, addiction mention, bad parenting mention

lola bach was born on a quiet spring day in april of 1989. she was born to a family who already had one too many mouths to feed, with two parents who hardly paid attention to their children (unless you were the two younger ones), so she learned how to fend for herself at a very young age. for the most part it was either her older siblings taking care of her or she was taking care of her two younger ones.

growing up without much supervision had it’s downs as much as it had its down. for the most part she was brilliant in school when she applied herself, constantly coming home with good grades, she was even offered to skip a grade once. it was the people she seemed to gravitate towards that were always the problem, and it only got worse the older she got. another thing she always gravitated towards was singing and the girl was good at it.

at fifteen years old, she met a guy named ceaser, and he was eighteen. one night they attended a mutual friends party together and it was there she had her first taste of cocaine. the drug was exhilarating, to say the least, and for a split moment in time, she felt nothing but pure bliss. at first she didn’t see the problem with doing the drug, ceaser also did nothing but encourage the usage, and that was the problem. by the time she hit eighteen the two had been on and off in a very, very rocky relationship that only seemed to get more toxic. he seemed to be so infatuated by her that he would rather be dependent on a drug he got her than to let her go for her own sake, and she was too blinded by the affection he gave her (and drug) that it didn’t click right away what was going on.

one day, at the age of twenty-one, lola had finally seemed to have had enough. she left ceaser, her home, without so much as a goodbye and never looked back on it. and in her heart of hearts, she truly believed life would be easier without ceaser. but it wasn’t, it felt much harder, and lola soon found herself in worse company. this time they were “friends” who were simply bad people looking to take advantage of good people, but lola was so lost, she didn’t even seem to care or notice. to this day there are still some things she doesn’t like talking about that time of her life. when she finally got the smarts, and secretly saved up enough money, she made her swift exit the same way she had left everyone back home.

this time, however, she decided she wanted to take hold of her life. for once, she didn’t want the drugs to control her, she wanted to be in control. so she checked herself into a rehablitation center. for a period of time she had done good, really good, but eventually she found herself checking in and out of the center as if it were a hotel. granted she didn’t have anywhere else to sleep, but lola always seemed to find herself slipping back into old habits despite how desperately she wanted to be okay.

one day she checked herself into the center for what felt like the hundredth time and it was this round of rehabilitation that had her cross paths with a guy named andrej varvik. “hey, you look like shit. want some coffee?” that was all it took for the two to click. there was something about andrej that made it easier for lola to open up to. he listened, understood, and inspired her to keep walking the clean path. their paths only crossed briefly as soon she was out again and the outside world once more took hold of her.

she found herself investing what little money she had in a guitar and a jacket, the jacket was because she was tired of freezing in the winters. with her trusty guitar, named ‘lady’, lola began her street performances. almost instantly she found success in the art, and soon she had her own little spot set up with people awaiting her. eventually she met another person but this time their connection was more platonic than it was romantic, even if everyone always assumed the two were a thing whenever they went out together. this person was kind with her and together they traveled for a bit. they parted ways about a year ago after stumbling into moorbrooke together. they wanted to keep traveling, but for once, lola had grown tired of running. she decided to stick around the small town and see what it was all about.

now, a year later, she found herself surviving off of being a lounger singer for the bars in town and giving street performances. she doesn’t really tell people she’s homeless as she doesn’t ever want to be the burden on anyone’s shoulders. luckily, for her, she made a friend at the local seaside motel and occasionally stays in one of the rooms for free. slowly she’s building up the money for a better life, hopefully a place to call her own, but as the saying goes...old habits are hard to kill. that and she’s kinda gotten used to sleeping in her car.

#mbintro #tw: drugs mention #tw: bad parenting mention #tw: addiction mention #tw: drug use mention #i didn't proof read this or anything #so uh...sorry if it sounds rough lol

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firstumcschenectady · 3 days

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“Mixed Multitude” Exodus 12:33-42 and Acts 2:5-11, 41-42

I love our “We Cry Justice” reading today (#25 by Daniel Jones) and the hot take on “mixed multitudes.” I loved the MLK quote it started with too, including, Pharaoh '”kept the slaves fighting among themselves.” This “trick” of having most of the resources in a society “float” to the top while leaving the multitudes fighting for the crumbs is well known, and unfortunately still well used. Take a look at governmental budgets and then the people advocating for various just causes – who accidentally end up fighting each other to prove the imperative nature of their own concern AT THE cost of the others. (Fixable, it turns out, by fixing the regressive tax code so it doesn't magnify inequality.)

Mr. Jones points out that Ancient Egypt was “an empire based on violence and injustice that sacrificed lives to the accumulation of wealth and its paranoia, viewed the murder of children as a fair price for keeping control.”1 I can't decide if I should respond “OUCH” or “PREACH” to that one. He goes on to say that the mixed multitude – the Israelites and those who suffered along with them in the empire – built a new society based on God's laws. “This higher law proclaims the accumulation of individual wealth to be immoral and demands freedom for enslaved people, forgiveness of debts, care for the environment, and the responsibility of everyone to their neighbors.” And THAT's why we call it the Promised Land.

The holiness of this mixed multitude, seeking shared goodness for each other instead of competing with each other and creating community out of shared need is found in Acts 2 as well. We normally only focus on Acts 2 on Pentecost, but it is another example that when God's Spirit is at work, people are bonded together across boundaries that might otherwise seem too impossible to cross.

God seems particularly committed to mixed multitudes.

Now this is funny thing to say right now I think. This week I've watched the incredible power of God's spirit move in the intractable-until-now United Methodist Church and all of a sudden there is hope abundant! And, truthfully, that hope abundant comes BECAUSE of disaffiliation, it comes because we split. It comes because we BROKE bonds.

Part of me - ok, a really large part of me – wants to simply say that those who left identified with the oppressor and oppressed God's beloveds and we are better off without them. But God has said to love our enemies, and I'm pretty sure being that petty isn't appropriate for a preacher... while preaching at least ;)

We who value the wide diversity of God's creation may find it easy to hear about the mixed multitudes and the amazing ways God's work to overturn oppression pulls people together. But I also know that we who value the wide diversity of God's creation sometimes find it really hard to deal with those who... don't.

Right?

It's OK, I know I'm right.

It turns out to be easier to be in a mixed multitude where people agree mixed multitudes are awesome than it is to be in a mixed multitude where there is a diversity of opinions about the value of diversity.

Or, maybe there is a bigger truth here. God's amazing work to overcome oppression and pull people together is REAL. But it is hard to live in community – there are ALWAYS differences. I think often of the story a little later in Acts when the incredibly diverse Body of Christ in its infancy already had issues with food distribution being fairly managed. Humans come into community with differences. There is no community without conflict. There is no community without bias. There is no community in prefect agreement – except maybe those who all defer to a strong-man leader.

The truth is that God binds us together. And, I think sometimes we get to the point when the best choice is to let some bonds go. Because not everything is now as it should be. We know this about marriage itself – there are times when two people have hurt each other enough that the best, most loving way forward, is apart. This week showed very clearly that all the dreams I've ever heard God dreaming for The United Methodist Church are possible – now that we're broken. And, to be fair, I hear from those in the Global Methodist Church that they think all the dreams they ever heard God dreaming are now possible there. The issue has ALWAYS been that we hear God differently.

So I've been thinking about what the moral, Christ-like response is to those with whom we have fundamental-values-level-differences. And I hear the echos of Jesus on the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” and I think that's the actual start of it. I hear it in Martin Luther King teaching about the goal of his work being to bring everyone together, not to bring down the oppressor. Let's hear him:

Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, “Love your enemies.” It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. That’s why Jesus says, “Love your enemies.” Because if you hate your enemies, you have no way to redeem and to transform your enemies. But if you love your enemies, you will discover that at the very root of love is the power of redemption. You just keep loving people and keep loving them, even though they’re mistreating you. Here’s the person who is a neighbor, and this person is doing something wrong to you and all of that. Just keep being friendly to that person. Keep loving them. Don’t do anything to embarrass them. Just keep loving them, and they can’t stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with bitterness because they’re mad because you love them like that. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they’ll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That’s love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There’s something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. “love your enemies.”2

So, dear ones, I'm going to keep on loving the Global Methodist Church, because I deeply believe God asks me to. Further, I believe there are people in that church who need it, and others who will need it. And, apparently, we are supposed to love Christian Nationalists too – even when they misrepresent our tradition. (Pulling no punches today.)

I guess no one every said being a follower of Jesus was easy, huh? But, friends, it is the season of Easter and we are told over and over again that God is Love and Love wins and NOTHING, not even death, can stop God's power of love. So, dear mixed multitude, let's keep on loving on EVERYONE even when they don't seem to know how broad God's love is yet. Let's be accused of being naive with our love. Let's be radical, and a little too broad with it. Let's be like God. Amen

1We Cry Justice #25, page 110.

2https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/documents/loving-your-enemies-sermon-delivered-dexter-avenue-baptist-church

#thinking church #progressive christianity #fumc schenectady #first umc schenectady #umc #schenectady #rev sara e baron #hope #Love Your Enemy #I don't have to apologize for my denomination this week!

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kspp · 28 days

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FINANCIAL INDEPENDENCE FOR SOCIAL UPLIFTMENT

Everyone should have equal access to opportunities in life. While it is true that not all are blessed with the same capabilities or assets, I am certain that no compassionate person believes that anyone should be precluded from opportunity just because they cannot afford to seize it. In fact, I am willing to go so far as to say that there exists a moral obligation for each one of us who has been able to achieve something substantial–be it financial success or not–to ensure that others have a chance at achieving their dreams too.

I am a firm believer in the philosophy of ‘financial independence for social upliftment’. Some people call it ‘giving back’, although I think that sounds too altruistic. I’m not simply looking to donate or volunteer my time for the sake of good karma, I am pursuing financial independence in order to provide opportunities for others.

Becoming a millionaire needs a lot more time than a person may have to allocate towards investing. To become financially independent takes even more. So why do so many people still struggle? Let me address this question by discussing the following topics: the concept of financial freedom; its relationship to social mobility; how many people actually achieve social mobility through employment; and what can be done to increase social mobility.

Financial Freedom is a term that describes the moment one becomes free from financial obligations or burdens. In order to have this freedom, there must be some money saved towards retirement as well as some extra cash on-hand for emergencies. This emergency fund can vary anywhere between three months’ worth of expenses up to as much as one year’s worth of expenses, depending upon who you ask. The point is that after one has accumulated enough savings for either emergencies or retirement, he/she may decide how much more income he/she wishes to put into investments in order to achieve social upliftment through wealth accumulation.

What is Social Mobility? This term generally refers to a change in status in society. This change can be financial, social, or both. For example, let’s say that a single parent has two children who are also single parents living together in an apartment. If one of the children were to get themselves out of debt and financially independent by renting a house, then they would have achieved some form of social mobility through financial independence because there is no longer any shared income to support their daily expenses. Social mobility could also take place if one child were to go back to school while the other kept working at their current job – this may result in one having a more stable income than the other does for a while – but eventually both will come out with equal levels of education which should pave the way for both achieving success.

Social mobility is an important factor in an opportunistic economy, which refers to opportunities being more widely available for those who have certain means of access. Some examples include transportation, education, and money. Having these things make it easier to get by; without them, one may not be able to find work (if he/she cannot afford a car), go to school (which costs tuition and fees as well as textbooks), or buy anything (income must exist first before any kind of transaction can take place).

But what does this all mean for social mobility? There are many factors that contribute towards someone achieving it: savings and debt levels; their age and life stage; where they live; their career prospects; and even the education level of their parents.

If you are young with few commitments–or even if you are older with many–I urge you to start learning about long term wealth creation and the power of compounding. Do not let others decide how much money you need.

Becoming financially independent is just the first step! Once you have the time and resources to pursue your dreams, you will find that others want to help you succeed. I can definitely relate–I’ve found my network growing exponentially since starting on this journey. The most fulfilling aspect of achieving my goals is helping others achieve theirs too. You’ll find out soon enough that it’s not about money; it’s about giving back(and having fun doing it).

References:

> Financial Freedom vs. Financial Independence: How They’re Different, And How You Can Get There > GDP and Standard of Living

#publicpolicy #kautilyaschoolofpublicpolicy #policymakers

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munsontm · 1 year

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❛ i won’t let anyone hurt you. ❜ — steve

The chill of an early spring breeze swept through the neat and tidy street of Cannyun Lane, tossing the dead leaves of winter through the air like puppets without strings. Soon enough, they would crumble away and turn into dust, making way for a new life, then the new death that followed it come autumn. Eddie didn't use to notice the changing of seasons much back in Hawkins, despite living on a wood's edge. It never occurred to him that life and death sat upon his doorstep daily. He always trudged through the mulch, leaves, weeds, and grass, going about his teenage business without a care in the world. It was nice not to care, to be ignorant of what adults might notice during their daily toils. But once adulthood cruelly thrust itself inside of him, his eyes were finally drawn to the things around him, and it zapped his youthful energy away, forcing him to face the mortality of human life. What a fucking drag.

Attending Janie Deacon's tenth birthday party was not his idea of a good Saturday afternoon, especially with the cold weather. He made the foolish mistake of wearing nothing over his red plaid shirt, and the wind rattled at its thin material unforgivingly, taking the long curls of dark hair with it. Fortunately, his husband, Steve, held him close, and he always ran hot year round. While the brutal twists and turns of life seldom made sense to Eddie, Steve was the one thing that did. The arm that sat snugly around his waist anchored him for what was to come once they stepped over the threshold of a bright red door nearing them in the distance. It calmed his anxiety, settled his nerves that at least he wouldn't be alone in enduring their suburban neighbours alone, many of which weren't fond of Eddie, simply because he wasn't like them. Steve fit in easier with them, masked himself like a goddamn champion. Eddie, on the other hand, didn't know how to pretend to be normal. He'd never done that a day in his life.

"Just remember that we could be at home right now, drinking beer and eating lasagne," he whispered as they made their way up the garden path lined with white picket fences and some pink flora that Eddie didn't know the name of. There wasn't a need for him to whisper, or there wouldn't be if they were anywhere else. But the entire street appeared to have ears somehow because everyone knew each other's business, which was bizarre. Eddie once joked that all the houses had secret tunnels under them, so people could go from house to house, getting gossip and doing god knows what else. It didn't seem completely preposterous the more he thought about the idea. Stranger things had happened in the world. If he avoided the basement more often than not due to his wild imagination, then so be it. Steve pecked him on the cheek, whispering back that they'd be fine and to just stick together. Eddie decided to take his word for it.

The pristine red door with its polished golden knocker looked like a red flag to Eddie and sounded like a red alert alarm in his head from the second Steve knocked. Sarah Deacon appeared only moments later, looking every part of the Stepford Wife from head to toe. She seemed momentarily surprised to see Eddie on her doorstep; of course, she'd only been expecting Steve, which meant everyone else was too. And his suspicions were swiftly confirmed once they were trapped inside with all the other suburbanites of Cannyun Lane, asking about his health with those feigned sad faces, like he was terminally ill or that they genuinely cared if he was or wasn't. Eddie didn't need them to speak truths to know how many didn't like him at all. But he played nice, only offering a sarcastic comment once or twice, maybe three times.

It was noisy inside the Deacon's show home, full of spoilt kids screaming, then crying, screaming again over nothing, all to the atrocious sound of Taylor Swift offending his eardrums with her abysmal, manufactured sounding lyrics that were meant to make people think there was something extraordinary about America. Hawkin's might have been a dump hole, but at least he and Steve had good times there. Those parties were amazing. The two of them drank themselves stupid, got high and danced for hours until Steve had to bend him over the bathroom sink, bareback, hard and fast. Then, rinse and repeat until the sun came up. How the fuck did they end up here? He needn't have bothered asking himself why. The memories of the night that changed everything never left him, and he didn't regret it.

After a few hours, Eddie slipped away from Steve's side while his husband listened to old Mr Humberland's war stories for the millionth time. If he stayed, well, he could feel the meltdown slowly creeping up on him, and he didn't want to subject Steve to more embarrassment or those pitiful looks. Twilight had blanketed the back garden with night not far behind it when Eddie stepped outside for a cigarette. The cold was sharper than earlier that afternoon, and he almost regretted leaving the suffocating warmth. But outside, he found a moment to breathe, relax, and maybe regain enough composure to go back inside at some point and endure Mr Humberland. Unfortunately, that bothersome spring wind had other ideas for him.

After the third cigarette, night had almost replaced twilight, and Eddie considered finding Steve again, who would be warm, and give him the warmth he desperately needed. Yet, from the corner of his eye, he spotted something at the end of the Deacon's garden in the evergreen bushes that made him freeze on the spot. The wind tore past Eddie, thrashing the greenery about until it formed a face. It didn't make sense that he could see a face in a bush, and surely no one else would see it if he raised the alarm. He'd just be the weirdo, eccentric writer from 1478 that always says odd things, nothing new. The face leered at him, menacing and knowledgeable, forcing the past upon him to remind him of the things he'd done and the ignorance he once held dear. Death was always at his doorstep, as nature demanded, but Eddie let it through the door. He trembled from head to toe, he couldn't breathe, yet his heart hammered away faster than ever. The cigarette between his fingers burned down to the rim and burned his skin; he didn't notice for being too transfixed on the point of his terror.

Suddenly, a set of large hands on his shoulders and a pair of worried gentle eyes obscured the mocking face from his vision. The cigarette dropped, he could breathe again. It was Steve. Immediately, Eddie crumbled against his husband like a winter leaf. The familiar sensation of being wrapped up in Steve's denim jacket blanketed him in scented comfort, and the demons in his head were gone just like that, at least for now. I won't let anyone hurt you, Steve mumbled into his hair, holding him tight as if he knew exactly what had happened. He'd said the same thing that night when everything changed; Eddie knew he meant it as much then as he did now, and god, if it didn't feel his heart with a macabre sort of joy.

Pulling back slightly, their eyes met through the windy night. A small tug of Eddie's lips formed a smile. "I won't let anyone hurt you too."

@harringtontm & @musecraft

#v. suburban gothic feat. harringtontm.#harringtontm #ship. whenever i’m alone with you; you make me feel like i am whole again ( harringtontm ) 💙#in their own little horror world :3c #nsft #for a lil section #like five words lmao #gay horror is trendy #think this might be some of my best work

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donkeykongbongodreams · 1 year

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In 2008, Nintendo partnered with Google to make a Japan-exclusive Wii game called And-Kensaku which is a minigame compilation based on guessing Google results

My favourite part is these awesome mascots they made for it

You can watch gameplay of it here:

youtube

Nintendo World Report translated the Iwata Asks interview about this game too! To me the most interesting parts were: Iwata - In my tenure as CEO no other title has had its name rejected so many times. Nishimura - I only gave you just a couple of the total number of title proposals I came up with - there were actually mountains of them.

Iwata - So you only showed me the best of the best of the titles you had thought up from that mountain of proposals, and I shot them down every time.

Nishimura - …Yes.

---- Iwata - As I discussed with Kan-san from Google earlier, when searching “Tokyo” versus “Osaka,” the number of results for “Tokyo” is overwhelmingly greater, simply from a population standpoint, but if you add a term and phrase search for something like “Famous Tokyo Goods” versus “Famous Osaka Goods,” you unexpectedly find out that the converse can be true. Nishimura - "We decided to only select questions that would be interesting, like puns, questions with double meanings, or regional questions like the comparison between Tokyo and Osaka." ----

Nishimura - Furthermore, we decided to add explanations to make things easier to understand.

Yui - While this is a game where you’re competing to see who can find out which keywords generate the most hits, we figured it would be a better game if you’d find out why the difference in hits occurs after you find out the answer - to give you that feeling of, “Oh! I get it!” --- Yui - Actually, whenever playing vs. internally we had a person that would always have some punchline while playing that was incredibly funny.

Soya - Furthermore, once “And-Kensaku” was made to be a packaged title, I felt it was regrettable that we wouldn’t be able to help deliver that atmosphere from playing together. So, part of me lit up when Nishimura-san said he wanted to put in the speech bubbles and voice. “Ah, we can just put in what that guy says verbatim!”

Iwata - So he’s included in the package (laughs).

Yui - Yes. We’ve included what he said verbatim. We basically noted down everything he said.

Soya - We fit his words in per situation. Sometimes to get a rise out of people.

Yui - But he really hated recording it. Nishimura - And in the end people said it was funny, so I was really glad we put it in. Another person doing a test play had a comment that said, “It feels like there’s a person living inside the game.” Iwata - It’s like that guy was included in the game (laughs). --- Yui - Right. So I hope people that have a vendetta against quiz games use this to get their revenge. --- Iwata - By the way, have you all become trivia experts through developing this game? Soya - In the beginning whenever I learned something I’d relay it to everyone, and the reaction would typically be, “I see” or “Wow”, but by the end everyone was an expert in trivia, so they would just say, “Yeah, I know already.”

Thank you for learning more about And-Kensaku with me! I hope you appreciated it ^^

#Nintendo #Wii #And-Kensaku #Google

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astorythatwritesitself · 1 year

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Shepard AMA Round 2

Rounds 1, 3, 4

... in retrospect I should have done these after I went through the series again, but apparently I'm doomed to work backwards. Odds are high I'll go back and edit the originals at some point, I'll probably reblog them with a notice or something instead of whole new posts? In the meantime, these have been delightful to rebuild my hype and at least set something like a direction I want to work towards, and now I'm a bit sad because they're done xD

As always, question sets by @spookyvalentine ! Hope y'all have enjoyed getting to know Adrian, and I hope to have so much more to share in the future, these have inspired so many little scene ideas!

1. Where would your Shepard go back to play tourist? Are they going alone, or bringing someone(s)? - She's actually made a few trips to Illium that were... on paper for 'necessary upgrades and supplies'. Not her fault if the crew get caught up sightseeing and decide it's easier to grab a meal at the lounge!

She also would love to actually like- visit Earth for a decent while, and harbored a small dream of bringing Thane along and checking out the Outback. During the SR1 days, she and Ash also had vague plans of a world tour of famous battle sites for a while (and really considered asking if Wrex wanted in), but that uh. Didn't pan out.

2. Your Shepard is making a sandwich. What’s going in it? - Well average sandwiches usually are some combo of meat, vegetables or cheese & condiments, but that's not exciting, and she's a biotic. Who does heavy combat. Sometimes she hits the state of 'nothing matters but Calorie', and after an enormous amount of biotic heavy fighting on freezing ass Noveria, the crew were witness to a monstrosity of: roast beef, 4 day old pyjak chunks, the end dregs of 3 nut butters (one of which was mostly chocolate), some kind of stewed Tuchankan root vegetable, and blueberry jelly crammed between two hunks of bread.

(In fairness, half of it went to Wrex, and he thought it was great, so everyone else can shut up.)

3. What’s Shepard’s love language? What love languages do they respond best to? -

Ok they all kind of blend into each other, but ultimately: acts of service. On a wider context- Shepard is just... her default nature is a deep, immense love for life in all its myriad forms, even something like the Reapers- and she wants to help that life flourish and coexist as peacefully as possible. Whether it's making sure a beloved wife's body is returned to a grieving husband or working to undo the genophage, so very much of what makes her Shepard is simply a way of saying 'I love you' to all there is.

On a more personal level: Again, blend of all, but she puts in an effort to help her friends with whatever they need, even if it's. Like. -gestures at every loyalty mission-; and she tends to charge headfirst into battle and draw fire so they don't have to take it. (As for receptive to: words & quality time).

Interestingly, in a romantic context she winds up also leaning hard into touch, both giving and receiving. She had kind of withdrawn from much physical contact after Akuze- and it actually was a bit of an awkward dance with Thane (who I've always hc'd as being a very tactile sort) at first, but it worked out in the end; casual time together, they're almost always in some sort of contact. Not even entirely aware of it, either, and Joker decides it's absolutely worth tempting death to tease them about it.

4. What were Shepard’s opinions of Cerberus before waking up on their table? - Oh, absolute loathing, they're the essence of everything she hates about humanity's attitude towards galactic relations; and half her mission during the ME2 era was to try swinging the SR2 crew away.

5. Is your Shepard politically active? Do they stay on top of galactic comings and going’s - She does her best to stay on top of things, especially after becoming a Spectre. In a perfect world where the Reaper war ends and she lives, she'd probably swerve hard into politics, especially campaigning to restructure the council and get some new embassies set up.

6. What would they be doing, if Shepard never joined the alliance? - Diplomat/ambassador, probably; that or xeno-oceanography work. Anything that lets her travel and meet new people!

7. What’s Shepard’s favorite way to let loose? - Friendly combat competition, especially sniping practice, hand to hand, and biotic sparring.

8. Does your Shepard like to be alone? Are they prone to isolate? - She likes quiet time with other people around, but gets cagey when she's completely alone- it's why you'll find her doing most of her work in the mess hall. Even if everyone else is busy, she knows there's a bunch of folks nearby, and that's enough.

9. What does Shepard like to wear when they’re out of the armor? - OK I actually love the on-ship outfit in 1 Fairly comfortable but tries to keep smart when out and about. (Has been spotted wearing a Blasto tee on the ship though.

10. What does TIM think of Shepard at the start of me2? And at the end? - A necessary trouble in the beginning, hoped he could leverage some kind of gratitude debt. By the end? A goddamn pain in the ass, Miranda was right about the control chip. Shepard destroyed the Base, took his ship, and turned the Lazarus crew including the AI to her side. (And there is something extra insulting about the flagrant relationship with an alien, like no you're not using my recruitment suggestions as a dating service!)

11. What does Shepard think of TIM? - Despite everything in her life, Adrian is not a violent person. She would very much work to change hearts and minds through example and logic than at the end of a gun, and wants to preserve as many lives as possible. And still, even with this: she would happily strangle TIM with her bare hands if given the chance.

12. Who is Shepard’s favorite non-companion character? - Also knocking Chakwas, Joker, and Anderson since they've been mentioned a lot & are important lol. Possibly Aethyta!

13. What kind of roommate would Shepard be? - Polite, quiet, always makes sure the fridge is full and rent is on time, keeps the common areas tidy... but her bedroom is half taken up by an aquarium and every flat surface is covered with half-built models and she's up til 4am editing photos and eating Nutella out of the jar, so weigh all that as you will.

14. It’s takeout potluck night with the gang! What’s Shepard ordering, and from where? A krogan-worthy portion of fried meat, veg, and noodles from literally anywhere that puts that together. (It's a remarkably universal sort of dish, right up there with 'boiled grain')

15. If Shepard could have an extremely dangerous and illegal pet, what would it be? - Less one pet and more the aquarium from hell, any sort of pretty sea critter regardless of how toxic it is. (Blue ring octopi are top of the list, followed by a remarkably toxic eel from Kajhe. ... Her real answer is actually more 'I want to take a vessel down as far as is physically possible into Encompassing and keep the biggest thing I find')

16.. What does Aria think of Shepard? - Wary at first because no one can be that nice, and always kind of thinks Shepard’s a naive idiot... but she's a naive idiot who can get shit done, and Aria can kind of respect that.

17. Does your Shepard seek counseling/have a therapist? - The closest thing Adrian Shepard has ever had to a therapist was Kelly Chambers, interpret that as you will. (She kind of meant to find one once in was apparent the Akuze situation had impacted her long term... buuuut then she was assigned to this new experimental ship, lot of talk about important cooperation exercises with the turians, and then everything kind of snowballed and Therapy Doesn't Make For Good Spectre Optics...)

18. Obligatory gang beach episode! What’s Shepard doing? - She's in the water before the question's finished lol. Unless specifically requested somewhere else, she'll be swimming. Possibly even full diving if circumstances allow!

19. What was Shepard’s first interaction with an alien? - Very brief and barely remembered- due to her parents' participation in the First Contact War and subsequent involvement in peace talks, she wound up encountering some turians when she was very young & still not 100% comprehending what was going on, so she just thought they looked cool as hell. (First real interaction was when she was like 6 & wandered off on a small asari station they were visiting, and asking a very nice blue lady for help getting back.)

20. List five songs your Shepard is currently listening to

-Hand That Feeds

- Summer Nights

- To Hide To Seek (yeah in-game song but please imagine, first trip to Illium, Shep's going to the bar for info, and proceeds to drop everything to ask Aethyta 'hey what's playing right now I need this')

-The Stolen Child

-Undertow

21. What companion quest did shepard enjoy the most? What was the most difficult one for them to do? - All of the SR2 ones except Grunt's fucking wrecked her tbh.

The amount if them that came down to broken families hit hard, Jack and Tali's just straight up made her cry afterwards, Thane's was a very wild emotional soup because they were very much Dancing Around Their Emotions but she would later admit that last moment was like the first time she'd really felt anything resembling a parental instinct and dear lord that's a lot to unpack when neither of you have admitted that you're dating yet.

Mordin's just- gutted her. She loves Mordin, they had become pretty solid friends but then facing all that, especially considering her relationship with Wrex? Legion's and Samara's both actually wound up with her having a slight breakdown on the shuttle ride back because they were heavy as fuck... but the hardest one might have been Garrus'.

He was her constant companion in combat from the first run- once he was on the crew, he was always present. He's a dear friend and someone she worries about and wants to turn to a better path... and so torn up and lost that, for a very brief moment at the end-

She knows Garrus always has her back. But as much as she trusts his heart and soul... there was, for just a moment, a point where she didn't quite trust his body to follow suit, and very much accepted that he might take the shot, whoever was in the scope.

Grunt's was fucking great though. She got to see Wrex again, headbutt an asshole, fight a thresher maw, and solidly bring a new member into her growing krogan family. 10/10 no complaints why can't every problem be that easy.

22. Any guilty pleasures? - Old Earth sci-fi/horror, the cheesier and campier the better! (There was serious debate whether to ban her from movie night choices, but she also needs to turn her brain off sometimes and that's about the only time she's not overtly multitasking.)

23. What does Shepard think of Conrad Verner? How do they handle him? - Oh she was weirded the fuck out by even the autograph thing - like thankfully Eden Prime had just happened so she felt vaguely heroic this time (& tangent, she highkey wants to lose her shit on everyone who brings up Akuze because all she did was run away and not die, there wasn't anything commendable there), and just gets increasingly frustrated with the guy as things go on, and is pissed with his shit in Illium because sir, no, I did not give myself a roaring headache resisting the urge to scare you off just for you to claim I pulled a gun on you.

She does come to appreciate the Shepards foundation afterwards though and even offers some help and an official endorsement... after the few months and she's sure he's not coming back...

24. How does Shepard handle house arrest? How do they fill their time? - Oh she would handle it badly. She is good in ships, but very bad at being confined. She'd probably spend a lot of time trying to get messages out to her companions or see how they're doing and just... trying not to fall the fuck apart because now there's nothing to take her attention away from The Horrors, you know?

25. How does Shepard react to meeting Javik, a real life prothean? - Despite my pre-order, I never did redeem that, so she never did xD She'd think it was dope as fuck though, and really consider starting a tally of 'extinct species I've met'.

26. What is Shepard’s relationship with Joker? - BFFs! They crossed paths a lot as kids and kept in touch when they weren't in the same area. Adrian learned some important early lessons in how to work with other people, little Joker wasn't taking any sort of pity or over concern over his health, and she was one of the only kids who seemed to take him seriously. They mercilessly mock each other, and she values his opinion about the other crew members and missions- even if it's not always readily apparent to others.

27. What does your Shepard take pictures of? - She has a long-standing hobby of landscape photography! It started when she was a kid and wanted to get pictures of wherever her family went, and it just sort of persisted and advanced through most of her life; she loves how much opportunity she has to get some rare shots (aided very much by modifing her helmets). She also picked up a habit of getting pictures of her friends around the Normandy or on the Citadel, though these were less carefully taken. (Though she has also gotten at least one Dramatic Fancy shot of everyone over the years.)

28. Who is your voicecast for Shepard? Is it Jennifer Hale/Mark Meer? Do they have an accent? - Hale all the way even though, thinking about it.. iiit doesn't completely make sense xD Like, Adrian's voice was never a problem point for her but she started hormone tinkering early enough that it would've definitely had an effect. But, I can't think of anyone better or specific tones so Hale it is. She would also have some kind of accent for sure, but fuck if I can figure out what it'd be after another hundred or so years of language drift In Space xD

29. What is the perfect day for Shepard? - Beach day with her friends. She has a deep need to see who wins in an all out Normandy crew chicken fight (also 'can everyone together take down Wrex or Grunt'), some time soaking up the sun, looking for cool weird crap that's washed up, good food... just time at her favorite place with the people she loves, where nothing demands their time or blood, and they can just have fun.

(And in a really perfect world scenario, this also includes getting to share a decent dive, or at least swim, with Thane...)

30. What did Shepard think of the thorian? How did they feel about killing it? What did they decide for Shiala? - On the one hand: fucking Terrifying in the same visceral way the Reapers are. On the other: absolutely fucking fascinating and magnificent, and she deeply regrets having to kill it. Shiala lives, like- look, it wasn't her fault she got mind-zapped and eaten by a plant, she ought to get a chance.

31. How did Shepard feel, seeing Legion wearing their old armor? Does that change? - It was startling at first for sure, but she comes to find it kind of sweet.

32. Any vices? - Not really, she's kind of in that weird range of 'doesn't really do anything self destructive but also needs outside reminders for actual self care' xD

33. Is Shepard free with affection, or more reserved? - Oh extremely free- especially with the Normandy crew, she never hesitates with a kind word, gift, or joke for her friends. Good for morale, good for general mood... and you never know how long a crew will be together. The galaxy can always use a little more love.

34. Are there any people out there that betrayed Shepard? How do they handle it? - Liara (answered further below), otherwise I can't think of any particularly notable incidents. Honestly, she has a tendency to cause betrayals.

35. Is your Shepard a biter? (Interpret this as you will) - She prefers to fight fair, so no biting. and scales can be tough

(And no one can prove those things on her neck aren't general soldier's wear and tear, but if anyone wants to speculate about them they're welcome to bring it up while she's doing weapons maintenance yes this especially includes you, Mordin and Chakwas.)

36. What is their relationship with Wrex? - He's the big brother she never had. They butted heads a fair bit early on (literally in at least a couple instances), but she wasn't passing up the chance to spend time with an honest to god krogan battlemaster, and in time developed a great deal of respect for his wisdom and experience. Wrex was intrigued just on the basis of there being a human who would talk to him- and then this human turns out to be interested in galactic politics and is still sympathetic to the krogan? That's Different.

Both are damn near unyielding in their convictions, but respect each other enough to meet halfway. It's Wrex's friendship and history that so strongly spurs Adrian to prioritize the krogan even through everything else that's going on; it's Shepard’s unwavering choice to remain kind and merciful that help draw Wrex out of his rut and into trying to make some changes. By the end, they absolutely regard each other as family. (Wrex was actually my first recruit in my current play of ME1!)

37. Does Shepard have any friendships that surprise the rest of the crew? - See above lol, like- even Joker, knowing Adrian most of her life, was still a little surprised about Wrex. It also threw everyone for a bit of a loop with how chummy she got with Miranda in the end- Shepard and Miranda included.

(The reaction to Thane was actually split among the crew around the time- Garrus and Jacob were insistent she wasnt going to cozy up to an asassin; Grunt and Miranda just observed, Mordin observed with metaphorical popcorn, while Joker and Jack had a running bet on how long before Adrian made a move. They both lost to Kelly.)

38. If Shepard is dropped into the middle of the wilderness for a week, how do they handle it? - Depending on place & supplies she'd probably do okay? Honestly if she can set herself up okay she might just wave rescue off for another week.

39. Does Shepard have a will? What do they want done with their body after they’ve passed? - She has a standing situation of, should she be KIA without recoverable remains, to hold a memorial or celebration of life sort of service on the following April 11th, just anyone who wanted to get together and get whatever closure they can.

If remains: burial at sea. (Amended to cremation and scattering at sea as of ME2).

She didn't have much else until late into the ME2 timeline, where she puts in last minute stipulations of: belongings split among the surviving Normandy crews as they so desired, while any money goes to Kolyat.

40. How does your Shepard react, when Liara says she’s the one that handed their body over to Cerberus? - Coldly. She and Liara were never particularly close, but that's the end of any friendship they might have had. Shepard doesn't disagree about the necessity and benefit, she's not... ungrateful. But she holds Liara at a distance afterwards, even during the ME3 timeframe.

41. They’ve been caught in the rain! How does Shepard react? - Would barely notice or care tbh xD She's trained to endure most weather conditions- and on top of that, hey, rain's the next best thing to a swim!

42. How does Shepard handle the reporters? What are they like in an interview - Likes Emily well enough, politely indifferent to others- in fact, Emily's about the only interviewer who doesn't have to literally ambush Shepard for a talk. She was put off the whole interview scene after Akuze- everyone kept demanding attention when she just wanted to mourn.

Her interviews tend to be short and curt, between her discomfort with them and the knowledge of just how much weight her words can carry, she doesn't want to start an incident with a bad remark, y'know?

43. What was the clone’s fate? Do you think Shepard and their clone could coexist? - non-existence

And sadly I haven't looked into the whole plotline there enough to give much of a hypothetical answer xD

44. What’s the perfect date to sweep Shepard off their feet? - Honestly, giving her one on one attention and having an hour or two to not think about Everything is pretty good.

(OK though actual answer: dinner, drinks, and impromptu poetry recitations at Eternity.)

45. How many unread emails are in their inbox? - Oh they all get opened. Actually read.. ehhh, it varies and it's kind of random which non-vital ones get read. (She did read that one from one of the salarians stuck in Nassana's tower & still teases Thane about apparently causing some kind of sexual awakening for a salarian)

46. What does your Shepard get competitive over? - Endurance trials. Like, going back to before enlisting and working to hold her breath the longest & handle colder water- she's always had a mentality like this:

And that probably explains a lot about her.

47. What museum is your Shepard going to? natural history, science, art… the zoo, aquarium? - Oh lord that's many answers. Galleries are a favorite, and she's extremely intrigued by any sort of cultural heritage exhibit. But either make sure the day is clear or just accept you've lost her unless shooting breaks out if she gets into an aquarium, she will hang around for hours. (Incidentally, everyone on board the Normandy now knows a lot of fish facts, whether they wanted to or not.)

48. What kind of a sleeper is Shepard? Sprawl out, hog the covers, octopus…. How many hours do they normally sleep? - Curled up into a tight ball unless she has something or someone to hold onto (And usually in around 4-5 hour chunks. Also interesting note though: she can sleep damn near anywhere, and dozed off on a lot of quieter Mako missions once Tali took over driving.)

49. Do they have any morning or evening rituals? The fuck's a morning or evening?

For a while, not really- she'd be awake, catch up on things or join in morning exercises if that was a thing; evenings were pretty much hose off, fuck around with whatever still needed doing and sleep as she could.

SR2 era saw her start taking a solid bit of time at the end of the day in meditation or prayer. If nothing else, it was helpful to enforce some daily slots of quiet to better organize her mind; and it became vital in getting her biotic skill back up to speed- everything was rebuilt fine, but she was physically and mentally too fucking wound up for reliable use.

50. What scents in particular draw Shepard in? - Anything like saltwater ofc, but also things along the line of forest greenery or spicy will definitely get her attention.

+1 what, to your Shepard, is a good death - A peaceful passing in one's sleep at an old age after a long, full life. Barring that, so long as it's in the service of doing good, she'll be content.

#shep tag #mass effect #it's been so fun rebuilding her & coming back to this fandom 😭#i've been hesitating at it for a while now but the questions here were the final motivation xD

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