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liminalpebble · 5 months ago

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What if Eddie and Adam met in a record store. Eddie doesn't have the best track record with supernatural beings but they can bond over music. And how about Loki being introduced to modern Halloween.

AN: A very long time ago, Sig requested this absolutely brilliant idea that Eddie from Stranger Things have an encounter with Adam from Only Lovers Left Alive at a record store and it has burrowed its way deep into my gray matter. I finally feel able to write it because I need to create a comforting little moment and world to sink into because of the persisting horrors...so here we are. I hope it comforts you too.

CW: Not much. No smut. References to Eddie's past injuries and violence by supernatural creatures. Just two weird hot dudes becoming homies because of music and books.

-----

Around

Goes Around, Comes Around was, by far, the best second-hand music store in all of Michigan, in Eddie's opinion. A grimy old neon sign invited him in, creating the illusion of records spinning eternally while little characters infinitely danced “the twist” or “the swim”, like a party that never ends. The sight always made him feel like a giddy kid watching fireworks...or what he imagined it was like to be a giddy kid. He never got to be one, so he was making up for lost time by being one now.

It was heaven. Used records and cassettes and movies and books and comics and even instruments of dubious condition and origin. A dusty haphazard land of other men's trash that was Eddie's affordable treasure trove. He hopped off the bus and into the dark, ran through the bitterly cold slush, and teetered, slip-sliding into the front door. The bell overhead jingled as Eddie crashed in, a wrecking ball with dimples that always made the shop girl giggle and blush.

Those dimples flashed even wider when Eddie saw she was working today. She was his favorite little punk rock dream girl to pine hopelessly after (not that he ever really thought he'd have a chance). He leaned on the counter and told her a stupid knock knock joke, guffawing loudly to himself. For his trouble, the cashier pixie with the blue hair knocked a few melting snow flakes off of his curly brown-sugar bangs and chit-chatted about what they just got in this week.

-----

Adam watched the entirety of Eddie's little adventure, exiting the bus just behind him, and sighing with annoyance as he realized he was going to the same record store as this boisterous human gremlin whom he had already shared a damp bus with.

He stepped across the threshold gracefully but gingerly with fists buried in his black leather jacket, sad strange eyes and pale face obscured by black unruly locks. As always, he kept purposefully to the far end of the shop at first, trying not to notice how delicious the shop girl always smelled.

His fangs began to ache. His gray-blue irises moved eerily as his pupils dilated, like a hungry animal sensing succulent prey and rich blood to drink.

As always, he ignored the urge, focusing instead on which broken instruments he would adopt, repair, or remake into something new and unusual.

Let it pass, he thought, stroking his hands over rickety fretboards and brittle strings.

Until it did, he planned to stay to the opposite corner, well away from the humans. That plan was soon interrupted by the metalhead bounding gleefully in that direction, caressing row after row of records with his heavily-ringed fingers in his his wake like he was skipping through a field of daisies.

Great. Fantastic.

----

When the bell chimed and the skinny goth sulked past, Eddie's scars itched strangely beneath his layered clothes, like little tributaries of battery acid buzzing subcutaneously. His heart began to run hot and he could hear his pulse in his ears. He knew what it meant. Something dangerous was coming around.

His advisory system for the uncanny was alerting him to a supernatural storm front moving in, something that shared DNA with the things that ripped him to shreds. Eddie recalled his pain, suffering for months until the doctors could put him back together again.

Call me Humpty-Dumpty. He thought. This cracked egg is on to you, buddy...whatever you are. As long as you don't dig your claws into anyone, especially that sweet girl, or me, we won't have a problem.

Then again, maybe this guy was just a supernatural gothy dick, minding his own business and buying Depeche Mode and Joy Division tapes to listen to while smoking clove cigarettes. Who was he to judge?

----

Adam sniffed a little more intently as the kid (probably not a kid, but to Adam anyone under 100 seemed like a kid) moved closer. Beneath the faint smells of leather and metal and wet ashtray, he could mark something else, something as familiar as his own blood. The kid also smelled like fear, sharp like petrichor, but he was hiding it well. Adam, realized with a bit of dread, that they recognized each other's secrets and braced himself for a stand off he really didn't want to deal with today.

Fuck.

---

“Hey, man, There's some good looking Muddy Waters records in the back there. I don't know if that's what you're looking for.”

Adam swung his head around, meeting a pair of big, round, dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the corners in a wide cocky grin.

He looked down at the kid, pale chiseled features and the thin gash of a mouth unmoving. Only those slate-colored eyes widened ever so slightly to consider Eddie's presence.

The forbidding glare filled Eddies brain with a singular thought in bright red bubble letters...

Oh...I am fucked.

He laughed, flashed his teeth and put up a hand, hoping to charm, hijack, joke or talk his way out of this predicament before being fucking murdered...just like high school.

“Look...um...I'm Eddie. And I think we might have some things to talk about. I obviously pose no threat to you.” He paused to snort out a little laugh and add, “I mean look at me, I am noooo hero. There's an all-night diner next store. Can we pick our stuff, check out, and...you know...just talk?”

Gothy long legs took a deep breath and took his time responding, making Eddie sweat a bit more.

“Okay,” he sighed in exasperation, but gave the slightest twitch of a simile. “But only because you have good taste. Muddy Waters was a genius.”

With a preternatural grace, Adam, plucked the record from bin, holding it up between two long pale fingers to show Eddie his selection.

-----

At the diner Adam donned his sunglasses again despite being indoors. He held the strong opinion that fluorescent lights were the most horrible invention of the 20th century, second only to the atomic bomb.

Eddie fidgeted, tapping his cheap rings against the linoleum table top, where their matching bags of records rested. He wasn't a fan of the shades. Now he couldn't even see the guy's eyes. Getting a read on him would be about as easy as learning a Van Halen solo. He twisted around in the booth looking for the waitress, curls bouncing with his jerky movements. He waved awkwardly and caught her attention.

“Hey, can I get a cup of black coffee and a slice of cherry pie? And...uh...do you want anythi..”

Adam tilted his head slightly as if to say, “Seriously?” then resumed his staring at nothing.

“Right...” Eddie said, cringing and sticking his tongue out slightly. “Uh..just that. Thanks.”

When she walked away, the stranger spoke in a low silky baritone and, surprisingly, in a crisp English accent. Eddie hadn't noticed it before on account of being scared out of his fucking mind.

“My name is Adam. And I think you already know what I am. So, Eddie, what might I ask, are you?

Eddie considered for a moment. “Well, let's just say if you're Dracula, I'm Frankenstein's monster. Whatever you're...made of... it's the same stuff as the creatures that did this. I have no fucking clue why that means we could sniff each other out though,” he explained, furtively rolling up his sleeves to show Adam the scar tissue branching up and over his forearm.

Adam took off his sunglasses, despite the pickaxe of light agitating his sensitive eyes, and furrowed his brow. He moved closer for a better look, and reached out his fingers. Eddie flinched a little as he moved nearer. Adam looked up, meeting his eyes with a surprisingly gentle expression.

“My apologies. May I touch them? Do they hurt?”

Eddie looked off to the side biting his lip and trying to ignore how his eyes stung ever so slightly whenever anyone got close to them, or to him; back to memories of the worst day of his life (which was very nearly the last one).

“Yes and yes.” Eddie answered shortly.

“Are they all over your body?”

“Uh...yeah. They tore me up pretty good.”

Adam very carefully examined the marks, then met Eddie's eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

Eddie's eyebrows shot up and he let out a breathy little laugh of surprise.

“Oh, don't worry about it. It's not like you did it. It was a long time ago and a few states away now. I've literally and figuratively put it behind me, I suppose.”

“Not from around here then?”

Eddie smirked. “Look who's talking, buddy. That's not exactly a Midwestern accent you got there.”

Adam returned his smirk, saying, “No. It certainly is not. But, more to the point...my kind, we don't really do that kind of thing anymore, for the most part. We keep to ourselves...the few of us who are even left.”

Eddie nodded pensively. “Good to know. Thank you. I guess I was just caught a little off guard. Didn't know if I should be worried or not.”

Adam shook his head slowly but emphatically, “No. Not at all. But I understand the concern. And I wouldn't want to hurt you, anyway.”

“Really, why not?

“Well, your taste in music has got you in my good graces. Knowing that it's Frankenstein's monster rather than Frankenstein also makes me like you.”

Eddie exhaled a breathy chuckle of relief after all this. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath so tightly.

“What can I say? I've always been a reader...horror and fantasy specifically.”

Adam continued, “You know, I met her actually.”

“Really? Mary Shelley?”

“Indeed.”

“What was she like?”

Adam's voice lowered, and leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially into Eddie's ear, “absolutely scrumptious. Her husband was a complete bellend, though. Insufferable. An idiot, as well. Would you like to hear some stories?”

Eddie nodded eagerly, just as his pie and coffee landed in front of him in a cloud of warm steam and sweet aromas. “I'm all ears and I've got all night.”

“Then I'll stick around,” Adam said, pulling a delicate silver flask from his pocket and toasting with Eddie's mug.

“to sticking around...somehow.”

@leelei1980 @word-wytch @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @munson-blurbs @bettyfrommars @fairyysoup @sweetsigyn @glitchquake @somnambulic-thing @gigglingtiggerv2 @ladyofthestayingpower @eleniblue @alexakeyloveloki @smolvenger @sidereustales @deceptive-daydreams @munsonficrecfreak @veemoon @queenofstarsign85

#adam olla #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #lovely asks #only lovers left alive #Eddie Munson friends with Adam OLLA #OLLA x Stranger Things crossover

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ggjunkie · 1 year ago

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Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 4

“Why do you have an invite from The Adam?”

You pause from where you’re bent at the waist, attempting to open a pack of water bottles. You’re very obviously losing the battle, the plastic only wrinkling under your grip. At his question, you hesitate, unsure of what he’s referencing, before remembering that damn ticket. An annoyed groan on your lips, you release your grasp on the plastic and quickly straighten your spine with a weak pop.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, exasperation from the stub creeping into your voice. You try to keep it steady; it’s not Aeson you’re annoyed at. “I live near the venue, so I figured…”

From behind, Aeson guffaws in disbelief. For a split moment, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at his reaction. He doesn’t understand- it’s not like you asked for it. “Dude, he signed it. That’s his signature.”

You finally spin around, taking in his paled expression. He looks as though he’s holding back a laugh, unsure if this whole situation is a joke. At his concern, you begin to feel your walls crawling up. He doesn’t need to be scared. You’re in heaven. Nothing bad can happen to you now…

Right?

“Yeah, I’m aware” You snipe. Aeson’s face falls, and so does your mind’s defensive stance. He’s just trying to help. “I’m sorry, I just… I guess he doesn’t usually do that?”

“No, he doesn’t” his voice is softer, as if approaching a scared animal. He’s walking on eggshells and it tightens your throat in guilt. This conversation is teetering towards something serious, and if your sweaty palms were any indication, you don’t like it. “He doesn’t even officially announce his concerts. He expects everyone to just show up– except you, apparently.”

Your mouth starts to feel dry, “Oh. Maybe I knew him while we were alive?”

At that, Aeson actually laughs. “Yeah, sure– if you were alive in the Garden of Eden. That’s Adam. The Adam. The First Man, Adam. How did you even get this?”

A flash of golden feathers crosses your mind.

You ignore it.

Instead, you shrug, the weight of the situation finally weighing on your shoulders like a heavy blanket. You’re hoping if you don’t look it in the eyes, then it won’t be real. Rather, you avert your gaze to the floor, fingers half-mindedly picking at the seam of your robe. It’s only your first week in heaven. Did this mean you were in trouble? If you didn’t go, though, you’d only receive more and more tickets. How did you even end up with one?

“Well,” Aeson draws out, earning your attention. He has more color to him, the once-dulled twinkle in his eye shining as bright as ever. “Maybe we can both go.”

“Oh? Do I get a plus one?” You know it’s wishful thinking, but can’t help the relief that washes in like a comforting wave.

“Nope,” That wave instantly recedes, the metaphorical beach transforming into a dry, disgusting desert. “But I can sneak in under your robes.” You couldn’t help but giggle at that, playfully swatting at his chest.

“Yeah, no.”

“Eh, worth a shot. You should still go, it could be fun!”

You tilt your head, weighing the pros and cons. Pros? Fun concert! Cons? Everything. “Ehhhh, some rando inviting me to his concert? Kinda creepy.”

Aeson nods in agreement. “No totally. From what I hear, he’s an asshole who’ll try to get in any bombshell’s pants. But dude… free concert ticket. Just sneak out before it ends– I can even find something to do nearby in case you need help or something.”

You pucker your lips in thought, not even sure who Aeson would hear that gossip from, before sagging your shoulders in hesitant defeat. “Yeah alright, you got me. However, if I go, then you have to come with me to buy some better clothes and makeup. Your treat.”

Aeson, ever the optimist, beams at the idea of a day out on the town. “Deal!”

–

You had to learn the hard way that if you give Aeson an inch, he’ll take a mile. And after inviting him into your apartment for a bottle of water, suddenly he decided he can come and go as he pleases.

Safe to say, the pounding on your door shattered the peaceful stillness of your apartment like a sledgehammer through glass. Startled from your sleep, your mind struggled to shake off the grogginess as you reached for awareness in the dimly lit room.

Heart pounding, you sat up abruptly, disoriented and confused by the abrupt banging. For a moment, the fear of the possible intruder gripped you tightly, your pulse racing with adrenaline-fueled dread. But as your senses gradually sharpened, the rational part of your brain came forward.

You were in heaven now, far away from the dangers of the mortal world. Not to mention, even the most polite robbers wouldn’t knock on your front door and wait for you to let them in. With a shaky exhale, you forced your racing heart to slow its frantic pace.

Careful not to make a sound, you slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room, every step cautious and deliberate as you made your way downstairs, afraid to open the door to a pair of golden wings. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you paused, hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob, before swinging it open.

As the door unfastened, it revealed a hyper Aeson standing on the other side, his expression a mix of excitement and mischief. Relief washed over you in waves as you took in his familiar face.

“Come on, we gotta go look at clothes!”

–

The promenade unfolded before you, offering not only an array of food, but also a variety of charming shops that transformed it into a fanciful mall of sorts.

Amidst the crowd, you couldn't resist the allure of the cute robes on display. They were perfect for providing coverage, while also presenting different cute patterns. That way, you can still look and feel like an angel, but at least an angel with a personality. With a grin, you snagged a few, already envisioning how they would look. You stuffed them into Aesons arms, making him pay for you.

As you kept an eye out and about for a good makeup store, you nearly toppled over someone in your path. With a startled gasp, you moved to apologize, only to feel your expression sour as you realized it was the platinum-haired girl from yesterday. There was a hint of satisfaction in her smirk as she caught sight of your reaction, but it quickly vanished as her gaze landed on Aeson beside you.

“Are you two on a date right now?” she didn’t seem pleased.

“Wh-no!” you were taken aback. “What is your obsession? We’re friends! We do friend activities!”

Tuning out Aeson's playful jabber about how you “called me your friend.”, you were caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere as the platinum-haired girl fixed her piercing gaze on you once more.

“Will you be in attendance for the concert tonight?”

"How did you—" you began, your voice faltering as she cut you off.

"I'm Lute. Adam's Lute," she stated firmly, her words laden with authority, leaving no room for argument. "But you don't get to call me that. You call me Lieutenant.” She thought, before adding a quieter, “We’re friends.”

The air crackled with tension as you struggled to process her words, your mind racing with questions. The most pressing of which burned on your tongue, demanding to be voiced.

"Why do I have a ticket?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and defiance.

Lute's frown deepened at your question, her displeasure palpable as she delivered her blunt response.

"He thinks you're hot," she stated matter-of-factly, her words punctuated by Aeson's nervous laughter before he wisely fell silent under her withering gaze. "And you have a nice rack. Which I agree. I'll see you tonight."

With that, Lute turned on her heel and disappeared into the throng of people, leaving you standing there, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath her penetrating scrutiny.

"What a bitch," you muttered under your breath, the weight of her words echoing in your mind long after she had gone.

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #x reader

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tickle-bugs · 2 years ago

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If prompt requests are still open, I have a beetlejuice one! We all know Adam is a huge jokester. I like to imagine that Adam and Barbara like to play around and see who can make Lydia laugh the hardest. Adam is always winning with his jokes, so Barbara decided to take matters in her own hands and tickle Lydia since the game just said to make Lydia laugh, but never said it could only be jokes. Adam accused Barbara of cheating and the jumps on her and tickles her and Lydia. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol feel free to disregard it if it doesn’t make sense or if prompt requests are closed. Thanks!

Okay, I Believe You

Summary: After a long drought of joy, the Maitlands hold a competition to see who can make Lydia laugh first. No Beetlejuice AU where Lydia summons the Maitlands on accident while trying to bring her mom back.

Something that Barbara will always love about her husband is his unflappable sense of joy. His light never wavers. As a bit of a cynic, she used to take it for granted, but now…his light is the single-most important blessing a ghost could ask for.

Even now, doing a crossword from almost twelve years ago, Adam’s still smiling. She’s watching him delight himself every time he figures out an answer and it should be more heartwarming than it is, but her mind keeps drifting.

She flips through one of the Deetz’s photo albums. Dozens of pictures of Lydia, lovingly arranged, spell the story of her childhood. A wobbly, gap-toothed toddler in too-big rain boots grows into a shaggy, unabashedly weird child. Smiling.

“Do you think Lydia likes us?” Barbara’s gaze turns towards the attic door. Lydia’s trapped downstairs at one of her father’s real estate dinners. Her absence guts Barbara a bit.

“Of course, honey. Yesterday, she said we were ‘pretty okay’, remember? That’s a big upgrade from ‘tolerable’!” He straightens out the newspaper and watches her over it. She averts her eyes.

“Yeah, maybe.” Barbara chews on her thumb. “Sometimes I wonder if she wished she’d gotten her mom back, instead of us.”

Wordlessly, Adam stands and folds her into a hug. She tucks into the frigid crook of his neck and sighs. Even in death, they fit together perfectly.

“I think—“ He pauses to run his fingers through her hair— “that Lydia shows her affection much differently from other people. We shouldn’t take her normal as anything strange.”

“You’re right.” Barbara sighs. “It’s just…when I think of her, I think of her frowning. Even with all these pictures, I can’t imagine her smile. Her joy.”

“Tell ya what. I’ll get her to crack a smile and you’ll see what I mean.” Adam leans back a bit to catch Barbara’s eye.

“You think you can make her smile?” She looks up, sliding her hands to his waist.

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll make her laugh.” He grins.

“So confident. Maybe I’ll beat you to the punch.” She raises her brow. He laughs heartily.

“You’re on.” Adam sticks out his hand to shake and Barbara takes it.

….

A dreary scene unfolds at the dining room table. Real estate execs politely choke down Delia’s food as Charles attempts to dazzle them with his nightmare house. Maxie Dean seems to be the only one enjoying himself--his loud, grating guffaw bursts out every few minutes. A giant taxidermy bear, poised and ferocious, rattles on its stand behind him. The giant red bow on it threatens to slip free.

Lydia, wearing a frilly yellow nightmare of a dress, busies herself with trying to kill Delia with her eyes. The pointed impact of her silverware against the near-inedible steak on her plate sets a pace for the whole affair.

“Hey, Lydia.” Adam leans on the back of Lydia’s chair. Immediately, she sits up straighter.

“What are you guys doing down here? They’ll see you!” Lydia hisses under her breath. When the table breaks out in mechanical laughter, she rolls her eyes.

Barbara thinks of the time she walked in on Charles and Delia and shudders.

“They definitely can’t see us. Don’t worry about it.” Barbara pats her shoulder.

“We just had to visit our favorite occult expert.” Adam ruffles her hair. Delia looks over curiously. Lydia glares until she turns away.

“This seems like a drag.” Barbara surveys the table. “What’s with the bear?”

“That wasn’t always there? I thought that was one of your dad’s…choices.” Adam squints at it. Lydia sighs.

“Gift from Maxie. Kill me now,” Lydia mutters, flicking a piece of rubbery steak across the table. When it hits the plate of the agent across from her, she levels him with a challenging stare.

“Well, I can’t do that, but…bear with me.” Adam gestures to the bear with a mischievous grin.

A bowler hat lifts off of the hat rack and bobs through the air, ducking behind ugly sculptures and chandeliers to avoid prying eyes. It lands haphazardly atop the bear’s head. Adam gestures with more enthusiasm.

Lydia snorts quietly.

“I’d offer him some of this steak, but…it seems he’s already stuffed.” Adam scrunches his nose and an apple floats into the bear’s open mouth. Lydia ducks her head to hide her smile.

“What do you think a bear’s favorite constitutional amendment is?” Adam whispers, already chuckling at himself. “The right to bear arms. He’s already halfway there!”

Lydia rolls her eyes with deadly force, but she’s still smiling. Barbara puts a hand over Adam’s mouth before he can gear up for another unbearable joke.

“Okay, my turn.” Barbara grins mischievously.

Maxie Dean taps a knife against his glass for the attention of the table. All eyes turn to him and the bear.

Barbara flicks her wrist and a vinyl on the other side of the room slips free. It lowers itself onto the record player and the needle drops harshly. A gentle beating of drums fills the room.

“Whoa, well that was…convenient—“ He looks uneasily towards the turntable—“but I love some mood music.”

When Maxie next opens his mouth, it’s not his squeaky voice that leaves him. Instead, in a guttural shout, he booms:

“DAAAY-O!”

The dining room goes quiet, save for the record. Maxie clears his throat. Lydia’s eyes widen.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what--me say day me say day me say daaaayyy-o--”

Chaos erupts in the dining room. Harry Belafonte’s crooning voice fills the space as everyone but Lydia is forced to their feet. A conga line of disgruntled real estate mooks chugs around the table. Charles stiffly beats an ice bucket like a drum. The bear rocks around the room on its stand, shimmying with the music. Delia and Maxie spin like tops.

Lydia sits at the perfect center of the storm, watching the whole thing with a gaping grin. Barbara waits for even a chuckle of disbelief, but all she gets is:

“Make Delia put the fruit bowl on her head.”

…

“I can’t believe that didn’t work!” Adam pathetically kicks a pile of their junk and shakes a few things loose. A magic eight ball rolls across the attic floor and disappears in some far off corner.

“Honey, you’ll have to do better than a hat on a bear.” Barbara snorts. “I’m shocked my plan didn’t work.”

“...you are?” Adam raises his eyebrow. Barbara swats his arm.

“I brought the roasted pig to life and made it chacha! That’s precisely her sense of humor.”

Lydia comes up into the attic humming. The door squeaks but doesn’t shut behind her.

“That was awesome.” She sighs happily and twirls. “Almost made wearing this dishrag of a dress worth it.”

“I think you look positively haunting.” Barbara twirls Lydia under her arm, trying to shake a giggle out of an already-silly mood. No dice. Lydia gives a playful curtsy and flops down on a milk crate.

The attic door creaks open and Delia tumbles in. The levity evaporates.

“Why are you poking around up here?” Lydia scowls.

“I was not poking, I was…observing the feng shui of the attic stairs.” Delia sniffs and dusts herself off. She steps tentatively into the attic, looking at the various piles of Maitland-Deetz junk with distaste.

“What do you want? I’m busy.” Lydia taps her foot against the floorboards. Delia approaches her gently.

“Have you ever read Matilda?” Delia asks loftily. Lydia glares at her hard enough to elicit a squeak of fear.

“In that charming novella, the titular young heroine develops…supernatural abilities under extreme emotional stress. But ultimately she uses them to rid herself of her greatest enemy and becomes a hero.” Delia gestures fervently at Lydia and receives a blank stare in return.

“So does Carrie. What’s your point?”

“Look, when I was a youth…I often felt trapped and holed up. I know you must feel that way now, in our new house—“

“You think I’m trapped in here with you? You’re trapped in here with me. This is my house.” Lydia leaps to her feet suddenly. The motion destabilizes a pile of junk at the end of the room. An old lamp falls over.

“Lydia--” Delia swallows nervously. Adam, seizing the moment, rattles the shutters and piles of clutter. Barbara grins at him. He winks.

“This can’t be happening.” Delia’s eyes dart around. Adam nudges the magic eight ball towards her. It stops at her feet. Outlook not so good.

“Perception is reality, right? You said it yourself.” Lydia stalks towards her.

“Hang on, kiddo,” Barbara murmurs in Lydia’s ear, then concentrates. Lydia’s feet rise slowly off the ground as she levitates. She squeaks in surprise, then resolves her face back into murderous mischief.

“Leave this place!” Lydia shouts, and Adam flings a cross stitch kit from a high shelf. Delia yelps and scrambles backwards. She looks up at Lydia in terror.

Is this healthy for their relationship long-term? No. Is it fun? Absolutely.

Delia screams and flees the attic, falling down a few stairs by the sound of it. Adam slams the door shut behind her.

Lydia grins, bright and free, and it’s the most distinct show of joy they’ve seen from her…ever. Much like the pictures gathering dust up here, she’s radiant. But…still no laughter. Barbara’s not above admitting when she’s desperate.

“You can put me down now.” Lydia twists to peer at her, still bobbing in place. Barbara chews the inside of her cheek. If this doesn’t work, nothing will.

“Remember, you can’t kill me if I’m already dead,” she murmurs, then skitters her fingers over Lydia’s stomach.

Lydia giggles, then cackles, kicking her legs where she still floats in the air.

The Maitlands gasp in unison--Barbara in sheer joy and Adam in betrayal.

“B-Barbara!” Lydia throws her head back as she laughs. Barbara squeezes her sides once, gently, and she squeals, shaking with the force of her laughter. Barbara thinks back to the photo albums--Lydia has her mother’s smile.

“I didn’t think this would work.” Barbara’s hand passes through Lydia by accident and her voice leaps an octave or five. Lydia scrambles for her hand and pulls it out of her stomach.

“That’ssobad,” Lydia gasps out, giggling like a maniac. Her eyes glitter with sheer joy as she squeezes Barbara’s hand. She almost seems to be waiting for something.

Oh. How sweet.

Barbara scuttles her fingers up Lydia’s ribs and her voice completely drops out. She hides her face in her hands but it does nothing to dim the room. It takes her a moment to uncurl once the tickling stops, but Adam catches the flash of disappointment that she tries to smother.

Lydia floats back down, bewildered and bright pink, as Barbara takes a victory lap around her husband.

“I win! Yes!” Barbara floats straight off the ground in a joyous little spin. Adam splutters and gestures at her. She sticks her tongue out at him. He splutters louder.

“You are disqualified for eternity--”

“On whose authority--” She snickers.

“What is happening?” Lydia throws an old pillow directly through both of them. It thumps uselessly to the ground.

“We were having a little contest to see if we could make you laugh. I won.” Barbara grins. Adam growls and starts reeling her into his arms. She gasps and starts trying to worm away.

“You did not win, you cheated--”

“You guys are so…weird. Why do you care if I smile?” Lydia’s nose wrinkles with the force of her thoughts. She doesn’t look upset, which is promising, but she’s quickly reaching neon levels of blush. Her teenage need to look cool is very visibly warring with her smile.

“Well, kiddo--” Adam speaks smoothly while wrestling with a giggling Barbara-- “We care about you. Is that such a radical concept?”

As Lydia stands there, quietly bowled over that someone would look at her with such care, Adam busies himself with tickling his wife within an inch of her undead life. Barbara’s laughter floods the attic, the lights flickering in time with the music of it.

It’s so simple to them, Lydia thinks. Joy.

“You gonna stand there like a ghost or are you gonna help?” Adam grins, lifting Barbara clear off the ground. She shrieks in surprise and starts stumbling her way through bargaining. Lydia coos at her mockingly and accepts Adam’s invitation. As she approaches, Barbara starts talking faster, and Lydia’s heart warms.

“Wait, guys, we can talk about this--”

Adam buries her face into her neck and she squeals, somehow higher pitched than Lydia. Barbara throws her head back to laugh and it’s warm in its familiarity. Lydia dismisses the memories swirling like watercolors at the edges of her mind, instead opting to tase Barbara’s ribs. She snorts through her next peal of laughter, tossing her head from side to side as she tries to hide. The snorts find her anyway.

Adam and Lydia exchange a mischievous look.

Adam descends on one side, Lydia on the other, and Barbara giggles so violently that she phases directly through the floor. Adam and Lydia burst out laughing, leaning on each other for support. Barbara trudges back up the attic stairs, grumbling, and it sets them off again.

“Next time, we’re setting up rules.” Adam wipes his eyes.

“Next time I’m sending you through the floor,” Barbara fires back, wiggling her fingers in his direction. Adam yelps and disappears entirely.

Lydia’s too busy laughing at him to acknowledge the flutter of excitement at ‘next time’, but she’s overjoyed that it’s there.

#my fics #beetlejuice musical #ticklish!lydia #ticklish!barbara #lydia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #they're a family your honor #im in love with barbara and it shows i fear #also sorry for delia's voice being so weird i remembered that catherine o'hara plays her in the movie and i couldn't stop thinking of moira #from schitt's creek of course

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pinesfamilyguidetotheweird · 1 year ago

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Fragmented AU -- "Welcome Home, Family Pines" Chapter 2 Sneak Peek

While the kids were doing the tour of the house, the adults – sans McGucket – had all remained in the living room area, where Stan recalled a moment from his and Ford’s seafaring adventure. Whatever it was about, it was something funny as it made everyone laugh. “Hahaha! And then…and then, Sixer here thought the best course of action was to harpoon the sucker!” Stan guffawed from his recliner. “Well, it was a better plan than to just simply punch the thing,” Ford said, seated near his brother with Gypsy firmly in his lap. The feline purred lazily as Ford lightly stroked her fur. “Hey, it’s helped us before! Just one good hit in the eye and it was gone,” Stan said. “I’m still trying to comprehend that a kraken actually exists,” Shermie admitted awkwardly. “What? You don’t believe us?” Stan smirked. There was a slight edge to it, but Stan managed to dial it back. Shermie wasn’t being condescending or the like and Stan knows it. “Excuse me, Stanley, but I’m the normy here. My life is rather dull compared to yours and Ford’s,” Shermie said honestly. It went generally unnoticed, but Stan glanced at his twin through the corner of his eye. If Ford had felt some type of way about Shermie’s possibly indirectly insensitive comment, he wasn’t showing it, his right hand continued to stroke Whisker’s fur. “Evenso, if you two are adamant that the kraken exists, so be it. I mean, the ocean’s vast. Who knows what else you’ll find.” “My thoughts exactly,” Ford replied. Stan could’ve sworn that there was a small bit of tightness in Ford’s voice. Sweet and patient Maria Ramirez comes into the room. “Does anyone wish for refill? I just squeezed more lemons for lemonade.” “I would like some more, if you don’t mind, Ms. Ramirez,” Shermie said, handing her his cup. Maria giggled. “Cualquier cosa para ti, guapo.” She leaves for the kitchen again. “Awww, come on, Grandma,” Soos cringed. “What? What did she say?” Shermie asked, curious of the man-child’s reaction. “She called you an idiot,” Stan said swiftly. “Stanley,” Ford chastised lightly. Soos looks at him confused. “Uh…no, she didn’t, Mr. Pines. She–” “Cierra el pico.” Soos thankfully complies. Stan sees Ford giving him a disapproving glare and just crosses his arms. Shermie could only sigh with a hint of mild frustration.

Some growing tension!

Was the Spanish okay?

#gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #stanley pines #grunkle stan #fragmented au #sneak peek #sherman pines #shermie pines

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strxnged · 2 years ago

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CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.

CHAPTER II: establishment.

chapter summary. in which neither childe nor lumine are willing to admit that they care. in which they may break some bones.

wc. 5.1k. genre. enemies to lovers, action/adventure.

table of contents / next chapter

“It’s not like I usually care how others see me. In fact, unless it affects my plans in any way, I simply do not think about it.” Childe’s voice was cheery, matter-of-fact.

“That explains a lot.” Lumine rolled her eyes.

They sat next to each other on the ridge of a cliff, legs dangling into the vague darkness. She didn’t much like making small talk with him, but it was better than uncomfortable silence as they rested.

“But like I said, there are exceptions,” he continued.

She asked herself for the hundredth time why she chose to get stuck down here with him. The Chasm was far too dangerous for her to wander alone. There was nowhere for her to step away to, and she had no choice but to hear him out.

“Of course there are,” she muttered, masking no venom.

“Ah... Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get you to change your mind about me.”

She could hear what would be some semblance of remorse in Childe’s voice, if he was the kind of person whose tone you could trust. Which, as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t.

“That’s all, girlie.” He stretched his arms behind his head with a sad little smile.

“Oh, yeah, you gonna cry?”

He sighed. “What then?”

“I’ll laugh at you.”

“And? You’re already laughing at me.”

Lumine felt her betraying heart sink, a bit of guilt defying her attitude. “Well, thanks for sharing. Now I know how to piss you off.”

“You’re also already doing that.”

“Mission accomplished.” She paused, wanting to ask something but being unsure whether he would give it a straight answer. “What’s your mission, Harbinger?”

“Hm! Why should I tell you?” he said with a smile in his voice.

Lumine shrugged. “You sure as hell don’t have to.”

“Well, since you’re so desperate to know,” he simpered, “my goal is world domination. Simple as.”

Lumine eyed him. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“No, I’m serious. That’s my goal.”

His look seemed to be sincere, but of course she still didn’t know how sincere that actually was.

“Someday I’m gonna rule the world. All will know my name and despair.”

He still looked sincere and she couldn’t believe it. Lumine snorted, and then guffawed, and then roared with laughter. “There’s no way. That’s so childish!”

Childe’s mouth fell agape, offended. “What’s the matter with it?” he whined.

Lumine wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing at all, Childe. Nothing at all.” A yawn overtook her as she caught her breath. It felt good to laugh that hard. Maybe he was good for something, even if he oughtn’t be so proud of it.

She pushed herself to her feet, marching herself to the concave in the wall in which they’d set up a tiny camp. It consisted of a briefly functional fire pit, a stash between two boulders for their packs, and one leather blanket. She yawned again and sent a cross frown at the rock-hard floor. This would be less than enjoyable.

“Hm? Callin’ it a night? I can keep watch if you like.”

“I’m a light sleeper. It’s unnecessary,” Lumine replied, adamant. She hated the idea of Childe trying to protect her in any way.

He acquiesced. “If you say so.”

Initially, Lumine tried to take a position on the other side of the smouldering fire pit. It was uncomfortable, but she’d rather that than share a blanket with a Fatuus. This sentiment lasted until she began to feel suspicious that he was up to something across from her.

“Scoot over, Harbinger.”

“Getting cold, are we?”

“Shut your mouth. You better not snore.”

Childe simply laughed, stretching his arms behind his head and then moving himself over to allow her room. She lied down at his side, making an unprovokedly nasty face at his back. Then, she turned her shoulders away.

The whole time, she kept one eye open and one hand on the hilt of her sword. She was not aware that Childe was doing the same. By the time their fire had burned out, she’d dragged the blanket a bit further over her shoulders in response to the chilly air of the cave threatening shivers down her spine. Her mind was running through all the ways this could go, all the regrets she may have if she wasn’t careful.

It was, perhaps, true that sticking next to a warrior who claimed to want to protect her would be safer than facing the cursed caverns by herself. And it was also true that she liked to keep her enemies close when possible, and that this appeared to be the perfect opportunity. But Lumine couldn’t shake the dread in the pit of her stomach every time her eyes had met his during their travels, and the unrelenting chill that seemed to radiate from him. There was something terrible about him, something that was exaggerated in its concealment. Something that was deeper than his association with the Fatui and his hailing from Snezhnaya. There was something that, at his core, denied him hesitation in his bloodthirsty pursuit.

There was no true tenderness in him, unlike all the rest she had met in Teyvat. It was as if he, also, was of another world.

What calamity could have borne such a monster?

She did sleep, eventually—dreaming of dark worlds and cold, soulless oceans—but awoke within the reaches of an hour to a slight rustle of the blanket and a clamour of beastly cries echoing against stone. She took to her feet after only a moment, sword drawn.

A flash of blue light reflected on the grey cavern walls revealed the Eleventh Harbinger’s usage of his vision upon what Lumine understood to be now defeated hilichurls. She dashed out from the small camp to greet Childe’s side once again, just in time for the two of them to be surrounded by reinforcement of several mitachurls and samachurls.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she spat, rushing towards a larger enemy.

“Oh, I figured you wouldn’t mind my dealing with it.” He slashed Hydro at two mitachurls, dispelling them immediately.

“You figured wrong.” Lumine gave the mitachurl a frustrated kick.

“My bad, girlie.”

“And don’t call me that.” She dodged a swing of the monster’s weapon with a duck of her head.

“You really are a light sleeper, huh?” An arrow came from his direction and struck it in the head. It fell to the ground with a grunt and dissipated. “And not much of a morning person, it seems!” he added.

Something seemed to be different about the energy these Hilichurls seemed to have. They had a dissonant glow to them—a black agony holding their attacks steadier and harsher than usual.

Lumine shook off the unsettling feeling, shouting instead, “That one was mine!”

He ran past her, raising his Hydro-infused daggers at the remaining hilichurls. “You know,” he said, voice quite casual for someone in the middle of slaughtering beasts, “you really seem to talk a lot more without that imp Paimon speaking for you.”

“She makes things easier.” Lumine cleared her throat. “Usually.”

“She makes it a whole lot harder to get to know you.”

“What do you think this is, a candle-lit dinner?”

“If you like.”

Lumine gritted her teeth and cut down the last monster, twirling her sword and sheathing it with force. She promptly walked back to their little camp, grabbed her bag, and continued in the direction from which the hilichurls had come. She ignored the peevish smirk on Childe’s face as he followed her actions.

“You hungry? Shall we hunt ourselves some breakfast? Perhaps light ourselves a few candles to go with it?”

She scowled and shook her head. “No. I can go days without eating.” With brutal timing, her stomach growled.

“Is that so?” he replied with a smug tone. “Well, I’d rather not eat alone, anyways. Don’t worry, I won’t have you lift a finger; I’m built to provide for women.”

“Oh, what, you can sniff out your food?”

Childe seemed a bit surprised. “Well, yes, I can.”

Lumine let a laugh slip and raised her brow at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“You must be an awful hunter yourself.”

“I’m a woman, not a bear.”

“You’re calling me a teddy bear? I’m flattered. Perhaps my sweetness has finally reached you.”

“Shut up.”

Childe mimicked zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and seconds after, his eyes latched onto something. He met Lumine’s gaze, gave a sarcastically long sniff, and proceeded to aim his bow.

Zwip.

“See? Breakfast.” He jogged forward to finish off his prey.

He’d shot a Hydro fungus right through its center; the poor thing was still writhing in the stream he’d spotted it in. “And we’ve got water to boil it in! Marvelous. We shall eat like kings and queens.”

“Yeah, kings and queens of fungi pisswater.”

“You’re just upset that I told you so.” He lifted the fungus by the tentacles around its head, dangling it before his own face with a wide, toothless smile. It was downright creepy, the way his eyes darkened and his smile shone.

“And what convenient cooking utensils are you gonna use to boil the brute?” Lumine asked.

Childe’s gaze latched on her, some remnant thirst for blood sending shivers down her spine. “Fire.”

She resigned not to ask any more questions. His useless response and acute expression dissuaded her from acknowledging him at all, for the moment. His gaze was so intense, like a hawk’s while catching a rodent in its beak. It didn’t suit his soft features, with the exception of those eyes of his. Those cold, empty, blue eyes.

Sometimes she needed a reminder that she was tagging along the side of a sadistic Snezhnayan killer.

—

Apparently, Childe’s idea of procuring proper cooking utensils was to simply locate a Fatui camp further into the Chasm willing to allow use of their resources—which, honestly, Lumine wished he had done much sooner, even last night. She hated Fatui but she hated going hungry more.

He had led the two of them into another, wider area, in which there were structures along the walls that seemed to be out-of-commission mining constructs. On and around them, enemies of Lumine patrolled—but many of them were comrades of Childe and of the Cryo Nation. The camp they came across had two Legionnaires sitting around a fire, apparently gossiping up a storm. The distorted conversation became easier to hear as Lumine and Childe drew nearer.

“I heard that The Fair Lady went over to Inazuma. I’m thinkin’ she’s trying to rizz up the Electro Archon.”

“You’re kidding! Lucky Archon. She could rizz me up any day.”

“Bold of you to assume she’d even want to look at your ugly ass face.”

“Hey! Just a hypothetical, man.”

“Hello, boys,” Childe interjected, marching into camp. Lumine held back, letting him flaunt himself until they offered their resources and paychecks and livelihoods to him.

They both started as they noticed him. “Oh, it’s the Eleventh!” The Hydrogunner said, relatively less shocked than Lumine expected. “What brings you all the way down ‘ere?”

“Harbinger business,” he said with a smile in his tone. “You boys got rations?”

The Cryogunner nodded. “Yup.”

“Mind if me and my companion use your cookware?”

“Sure…” The Fatui Skirmisher eyed him. “Why don’t you got your own?”

“Slipped my mind on the way,” he said casually. “C’mon, girlie, let’s feast.”

Lumine took a step into sight, and paused. All three Fatui were watching her without trying to kill her, and she hated it.

“What’s the hol’ up, stranger?” The Hydrogunner Legionnaire asked her, putting his large hand on the handle of his gun.

“Mm, nothing.” Lumine sighed, walking into the camp.

As they cooked up the Fungi—which yielded a terrible smell, and a confounding taste—Lumine couldn’t help but notice that neither Legionnaire was taking his eyes off of her for long. Childe was jolly and friendly with them, asking about their work and how they spent their time. From what she gathered from their conversation, a huge aspect of their job was dedicated to waiting for things to happen.

After a “nice rest,” as Childe put it, the two cavern travellers set off from the camp further into the maze of mining infrastructure and stalagmites and cold, open cave air. She could make out some parts of the cavern’s ceiling thanks to the murky indigo glow splayed across sections of it. She recognized the substance to be similar to the mud she’d been trapped in earlier, only this was much thicker and more potent. Such substance also littered the cave floor and even the wooden pathways they took along the mining structures.

Lumine wondered where in Liyue they were beneath now. Perhaps they were under the harbour, or the mountains, or the islands. If they somehow made a tunnel straight up, would they end up in the sea? How did these pillars of stone hold up such a great land?

After another hour or so of walking they came across another camp with two scruffy Fatui Geochanter Bracers pacing its outskirts. Childe greeted them respectfully. And greet Childe they did, but the mutual respect was nowhere to be seen.

“Who does this guy think he is?” one asked. They both scowled at him, holding their weapons at the ready.

“I’m No. 11 of the Harbingers.”

“Sure you are, pal,” the same replied, sending his colleague a sickly smirk.

Childe, in turn, frowned. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Why should we?” the other asked in a drawl, cocking his head. “We haven’t caught word of any Harbingers for ages. Even if you are whichever Harbinger you say, it’s frankly meaningless.”

Childe and Lumine met eyes, and Lumine quirked an eyebrow. He shrugged, facing them again. “Alright, boys. We’ll leave you be.”

As they walked away from the camp, they heard the skirmishers laughing to each other. “That kid expected us to believe he was really a Harbinger. A Harbinger!” The roaring laughter echoed down the chamber as they walked further away. “Chasm must have gotten to them.”

Lumine noticed Childe clenching and unclenching one of his fists, brows furrowed. She was about to tell him to shake it off, when she heard a bit more.

“What a damn riot. Who was the bitch with him? Didn’t know Harbingers had girlfriends…”

Before she could think it through, her sword was suddenly in her hand and she was turning on her heel to teach them a lesson. It would be oh so satisfying to crush their voice boxes under her heel. But she felt a hand on her shoulder, and at Childe’s imploring expression, she sighed.

“I don’t think they’re in their right minds. No need for unnecessary bloodshed.”

Lumine nearly spat as she replied. “Drunk or not, I don’t let Fatui talk about me like that.”

One corner of Childe’s lips lifted, threatening a smile, but he instead pressed his mouth into a line. “I know, girlie. But I don’t think it’s just alcohol.” His eyes wandered into the darkness around them, settling on a patch of black mud on one edge of the cave.

She followed his gaze. “What the hell is that stuff, anyways?”

“It’s sort of…” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t really know.”

“What were you going to say?”

Childe ran his right hand through his hair, apparently thinking very hard. “It’s nothing your type wants to be around, that’s all.” He shrugged, and at last started to walk again. “Or those skirmishers, believe it or not.”

They continued to walk for what felt like hours. Lumine was becoming more shamefully comfortable with him leading the way. She found that she couldn’t stop thinking about him stopping her from attacking those men—those men whom she normally would wipe the floor with, and who had equally pissed him off. He didn’t want “unnecessary bloodshed.” What did that mean, by his terms?

—

There was something about the image of Childe that she had in her mind that suited this kind of environment. Running in the shadows, searching for what she did not understand. His perpetual energy and smiles, but his pale, insipid gaze.

“How… How do you see so well in the dark?” she asked him, barely aware it had been out loud until he turned to her with a raised brow.

“What do you mean?” he responded. He tossed the Hydro glow between his hands like it was an insignificant playground ball. “Are you referring to my vision lantern?”

She squinted at him. “No. You’re only using that for me, aren’t you?”

He gave her a smile that seemed a little too genuine for her comfort. “How’d you know?”

Lumine crossed her arms. “I asked you a question first.”

He grimaced. “Well, alright. You’re no fun.”

“Mhm. You gonna answer it?”

Childe paused, peering at her for a second with a smile still faded onto the corners of his lips. “Alright. You really want to know? Fine.” He took a deep breath. “Although, I will warn you, it’s not a… per se… charming story. Nor have I… told it many times.”

Lumine didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“Well… there was a time,” he said, “when I was young, about 14 years old. I ran away from home one day. Schneznayan winter forests are not forgiving to young folk out and about, and soon enough I was being chased by the beasts of the land. I escaped, but only by the fluke of,” he extinguished the Hydro lantern, throwing both of them into the haunting pitch black of the Chasm, “...darkness.

“It was then, in that darkness, that something… took me in. I was not my fathers, nor my own, nor the Tsaritsa’s. Something gave me a new home. Something taught me the ways of that darkness. Something… or someone… changed me.”

Lumine then realized that Childe was gripping her arm, a fierce look in his eyes. She could not see anything but the pale blue of his irises. Fear crept up her throat, though she knew not quite what it was of.

“She taught me all I know. Anyways, I got out alright and went back home after that.” He released her arm and relit the lantern. “All’s well that ends well, and now I can see decently in the dark! My eyes just adjusted over the time I spent there.“

Lumine noticed her heart speeding and she took a shaky breath, hoping it would calm her. “I see.”

He appeared to notice. “Are you alright, there, girlie?”

“I’m fine…” she mumbled. Yet another reminder, it was, that this was no ordinary man, that evil dwelt just behind those clear blue eyes. Yes, it suited his behaviour, but in a way it still shocked her. There seemed to be moments when he was just a rival to her—a rival, but someone she would not like to live without. “And don’t call me that, Harbinger.”

Childe simply laughed. “I’d like you to meet my master someday. She’d get a kick out of you. You’re feisty enough. I think you might even be able to hold your own in a duel against her, for at least a few seconds.”

Lumine tried to shake off her chills. “You say that like we’re ever going to get out of this hell-hole.”

“You still don’t trust me, huh?” Childe directed his gaze into her eyes, appearing a bit bothered by her sharpened glare right back. “I see,” he resigned, talking as if to himself. He began to walk again, heading towards a suspended bridge across a dark gorge. “What more shall I do, hm?”

Lumine recovered herself and dashed a few paces to catch up with him. Until he had slivers in his palms from repairing the boards of the houses that were destroyed by Osial’s wrath; until he mourned the lives of the innocent nearly lost by his reckless choices…

“Traveller, will you ever stop blaming me for what happened in the harbour?” he asked, as if hearing her thoughts. “I was only following orders from the Tsaritsa; and the people of Liyue triumphed, didn’t they? Someday, maybe, you’ll stop villainizing the Fatui just because you got roped into the Adventurer’s Guild before meeting me.”

“But you are villains.”

“How many treasure hoarder families have you forced into hunger by intercepting their plans? How many innocent soldiers have you bruised and broken simply because they opposed you? Traveller, don’t you wonder what drives you to follow someone like me?” An unwelcome shiver went up Lumine’s spine. “Is it not because you, as well, desire the thrill of battle, the flourish of power, the breeze of narrow escapes?”

She could not respond, for she neither had the words nor the time.

Childe and Lumine, during this discussion, had been walking under a rock overhanging the mining passage right before the bridge. A low growl—initially ignored, but succeedingly telling—has come from above it, and a scamper preluded a deep scraping sound of a giant rock against a massive wall. Whatever creature had been disturbed by their conversation had somehow caused an overhang the size of a ship to crumble from the wall and freefall straight towards them.

With only a moment to think, Lumine sprinted to the ravine bridge ahead, crossing it faster than she had known her legs to be capable of carrying her. She could only hope that Childe was close behind. The boards beneath her feet seemed to falter—and then there were no boards beneath her feet. She was falling—reaching—grasping and pulling herself up the bridge whose ropes from the direction she had come from had no posts left to be tied to. The planks became makeshift ladder rungs for her to hang onto, but some great elemental force behind her made any effort to do so futile. Securing her position as best she could with an uncomfortable placement of her legs on the hanging boards, she looked over her shoulder only to be utterly baffled by the sight.

Beneath the enormous rock which appeared to be frozen in time, the scrawny young man was gone, and the cycloptic beast of an unleashed Electro delusion posed instead. This was Tartaglia, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, and he was shrouded in black and purple as he channeled Abyssal energy upwards. Lumine could only watch as the swirling darkness of Foul Legacy grew at his command.

It was then that his head turned to face her for a moment, perhaps meeting her gaze. As his face was entirely masked, she could not fathom why he looked at her, but she was now convinced she’d imagined it. He was flying around the overhang fast enough that she could not see the motion itself, only a black blur between positions. At the increments where he stopped, he was slashing violet energy upon the rock. Then, he stopped in the air over the ravine with a final stroke, and the immense rock exploded and fell to the ground as amassments of dust and pebbles.

In the aftermath of the detonation she could just barely see, through the dust, his limp figure falling fast into the ravine. She scrambled down the rest of the bridge with her pack weighing heavily on her back and her heart weighing heavily in her chest. Reaching the bottom of the hanging bridge after what felt like an eternity, she breathed in what faith she had that the ravine floor would be close, and lept from the last “rung.”

Her feet hit the ground a bit later than expected and she lost her balance, teetering onto her hands, which were raw from climbing. She could immediately feel the unsavory mud-stuff between her fingers as she tried to push herself to her feet—and failed, finding her energy to be rapidly decreasing. It was as if her very life force was being claimed from her body as she crawled through the mud to reach Childe’s fallen form.

Before she made it to him, he slowly sat up. Lumine watched as he gazed at his own hand, heaving and trying to catch his breath.

“Ch-Childe—”

He seemed to surge from his daze, facing her in the darkness with his pale eyes. They seemed to still glow with a little purple from his prior Foul Legacy transformation. “Traveller…”

She sighed with relief and exhaustion at the sound of his voice. “What… what the hell was that?”

He tried to catch his breath. “That was me preventing the rock’s impact from bringing down the whole cavern on top of us. Not with much proper preparation though… yeah, that’s gonna have me pretty drained for awhile.”

“I think this mud stuff’s not helping.”

He gazed around them to where she was gesturing. “You’re right.”

Childe made to rise and Lumine marvelled at his strength. She hadn’t been using all her strength to destroy a colossal overhang, and she had found the mud had already sucked away most of her physical energy. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to follow suit. But she wouldn’t have to; without another word, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers scooped her up into his arms and carried her until they were out of the mud. Lumine couldn’t muster the energy to complain or resist. She was shocked by the warmth of his body and tenderness of his grip, even amidst his heaves of exhaustion. She could hear his racing heartbeat in his chest, where her head involuntarily rested. To her relief, he promptly set her down against the ravine wall and crumbled to the ground next to her.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

Childe was first to break the silence. “Well, we survived.” He stretched his arms back behind his head with a huff. “Wasn’t that fun?”

Lumine, feeling a bit more energized, dropped her jaw at him. “I thought you were going to die.”

“Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” he chuckled, looking a bit wistful.

“No,” she snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I mean, I’d rather I never saw you or any of the Fatui again, I don’t care whether it means you have to die or not.” At his smug expression, she tried to change the subject before he could tease her again. “Anyways, I wouldn’t like to be down here by myself. I feel like I’d go a little insane.” She did mean that.

Childe laughed and then started to cough, leaning forward. “Yeah, not possible,” he managed to get out. “Girls like you are as insane as they come, comrade.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” She watched him clutch his chest, more worried than she thought she ought to be. And yet her pride was no longer as pressing as her concern. How had he known what to do, up there? How had he known destroying the rock before it touched the ground would save them? “Hey, why the hell did you call me ‘comrade’? I’m the furthest from it.”

“It’s that or I get to call you ‘girlie.’ Besides, we’re stuck down here together whether either of us like it or not, so I think that makes us comrades in some way. And, well… you haven’t tried to kill me yet, comrade.”

His empty smile shut Lumine up as she wondered to herself what would be next.

As it turned out, darkness was next. Childe had exhausted himself to save the both of them—excessively, Lumine thought, and necessarily, Childe assured her—and he could not muster a hydro lantern for the time being. She bothered him to teach her how but he could not offer significant instructions. It seemed that yet again, vision bearers did not quite know how to relate to her visionless abilities however similar they appeared.

She wanted to go on still, and Childe said the only way they were doing so would be together. Lumine agreed, until he clarified.

“I mean we have to physically stick together. You don’t know what lurks at the depths of the Abyss—what can snatch you and drag you further into the darkness.”

“You mean the Chasm,” Lumine corrected him.

“Yes, that’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Lumine responded with silence, unable to make out his expression through the lack of light.

“Besides,” he continued, “I need your help if I’m going to walk very far.”

“And you think you can lean on me.”

“Yes.” He was rather confident.

Lumine thought for a moment, huffed, and linked her arm around his. “If it’s the only way, then fine.”

Childe seemed to hesitate, his body stiffening at her touch, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest it in the first place. After a second, however, he relaxed, and she could almost feel the warmth of the smile glaring from his face. It was a victorious smile, no doubt.

The two started to walk through the ravine.

Their fates were suddenly very much in each other’s hands, Lumine realized.

The truth was, as she had seen Childe’s figure fall out of the air, that Lumine had imagined many scenarios. The first, of course, had been a fearful vision of her attempts at exploration all by herself. Before Childe, before Paimon, she had always been travelling with Aether. Rarely had she been truly alone, especially while in such damning circumstances. She thought about the fact that, had Childe not lived through the fall, she would have been stumbling in the darkness without someone to blame it on. Without someone to lean on her. Without another’s life to protect.

The second vision was of a world without Childe—perhaps a safer one, but in some dreadful way, an emptier one. Yes, empty of a life that ought to carry on. As much as she would claim to hate him, she was unable to even conceptualize his death being a good thing. She’d had opportunities to kill him herself. Really, she’d rather she had taken those opportunities herself before she had grown attached to him, rather than being unable to protect him from death.

The third vision was seemingly not her own. For as she watched him fall, she had felt herself falling. She had felt the wind racing past her face, her body growing limp, and her end approaching.

She had known dread.

author’s note. wowie! chapter two! this was one of my favourites to write for sure; finishing this chapter determined me to finish the whole fic.

please consider leaving some thoughts so far. it would be greatly appreciated.

— table of contents / next chapter

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

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moviemunchies · 2 years ago

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Alright! Finally something that isn’t The Fast and the Furious!

Back to superhero films.

Jaime Reyes came back from college graduation to find his family is broke and is about to be evicted by the corrupt Kord Industries. He and his sister Milagro pick up minimum wage jobs, which they quickly lose; but not before Jaime leaves a good impression on heiress Jenny Kord, daughter of disappeared tech billionaire Ted Kord. She offers a meetup for a job at the family company (which is now run by her aunt, Ted’s sister, Victoria Kord, who has turned into a militarized and corrupt corporation), but when Jaime finds her, she’s just taken something out of the lab and asks him to hide it.

Of course, Jaime opens the box (at his family’s urging), and it turns out to be the Scarab, which quickly activates and fuses to his spine, creating an alien super suit. However! Victoria Kord will stop at nothing to get that Scarab, as she plans to use it to help her super cybernetic soldier program. Now Jaime and his family will have to figure out how the Scarab works, how to disconnect it, and most importantly, how to survive.

This film was originally produced to be released only on HBO Max, but with the shake ups at Warner/DC/Discovery/HBO, it was shifted to a theatrical release. Perhaps this was to try to avoid the backlash that came from canceling Batgirl? I don’t know. It’s not expected to do well financially, and thus far, it really hasn’t, though I’ve seen good reviews. But I have a soft spot for Jaime Reyes, so I wanted to give this movie a go.

Admittedly, this movie feels a lot like a made-for-TV movie, just with a much higher budget. The main criticism that’s come up in reviews is that this movie is a stereotypical superhero origin story. And that’s true! In terms of actual Plot, there’s not much that makes this different from a dozen other superhero stories that you’ve seen before. When this was an HBO Max original, that is a lot less egregious, but as a theatrical release it’s a little frustrating. The difference (and one that most reviews also bring up) is that this is a Hispanic superhero, and the movie’s emphasis on his identity is a highlight that makes this movie memorable.

How many Hispanic superheroes have been shown in live-action theatrical films? Not a lot! And certainly not that many that shine so brightly on issues that Hispanic people face today–gentrification, not being taken seriously, and being constantly stereotyped. These are things that theatrical superhero movies rarely touch on, and I can’t think of any that make it a thematic focal point.

And it’s not just doom-and-gloom! There are a bunch of really fun shout-outs to Hispanic pop culture that stick out to people in the know–from Selena music to Hispanic superhero media. There’s a few references to El Chapulín Colorado, and while some people laughed because it was silly, at least one person in my theater was guffawing because he definitely got the reference.

A quibble, though, but a big one: the whole thing about the Reyes family is that they’re all so together and strong because of it. They’re a loving family. And yet all of the family’s struggles are news to Jaime when he arrives back home–the family business closing, the upcoming eviction, his father’s health problems: he didn’t know about any of them! If Jaime having been distant from his family and having to repair his relationship was his character arc for the movie, then yeah, it works. But it isn’t–that he’s completely blind to their problems is a non-issue in the long run, and it feels wrong with how important family is to the story’s themes.

The worldbuilding reminds me a little of Black Adam in that this is a world with history, especially with superheroes. Jaime’s uncle is a fan of the Blue Beetle, and brings up Superman. While the reaction to the Scarab’s extraterrestrial nature is alarm and surprise, no one expresses disbelief. In a world with superheroes, these things are apparently not too unbelievable.

The Scarab feels a bit weird to me. I guess this is in part because my exposure to Jaime Reyes is Young Justice, in which the Scarab has a specific, robotic personality that’s hyper violent and has to be reigned in. The Scarab also turns out to be an agent of the Reach, an alien nation bent on galactic conquest. The Scarab of the movie ends up bonding with Jaime and connecting to his brain, and so some of its dialogue at the end uses Spanish and slang, which felt jarring to me. Maybe that makes sense for the character in the movie–they’re mentally bonded, after all. But it just seems weird to me from my experiences with the character.

The villains are… functional, I guess? Victoria Kord is a bit over-the-top, but given the world right now, a villain running a technology corporation maybe should be over-the-top. That’s kind of how life is sometimes with these people–as is their disdain for those not useful to her. Carapax is a bit more, though I think the movie waits too long to give him his much-needed depth. If we got stronger hints of that earlier, I’d have appreciated it more.

There is an odd bit with the soundtrack that stuck out to me. It's fine, mostly, but the part where Jaime fully bonds with the Scarab has swelling, heroic music playing. What makes it strange is that this is also while Carapax is getting his full powers, and we're shown him powering up at the same time, and the music continues its heroic tones.

It's just a weird juxtaposition, with the music going the way it does.

Overall, it’s a fun movie, though it’s not hitting too many unfamiliar beats. The main draw here is how unapologetically Hispanic the movie is. But after years of continuity-heavy superhero films, and several attempts to tell stories about the multiverse, a back-to-basics approach to a superhero movie is appreciated. I liked it. It isn’t blowing my mind, but it’s a good movie to watch if you’ve got the time.

#Blue Beetle #Movie Munchies #Jaime Reyes #reviews #DC

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mistystarshine · 1 year ago

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Salvation on the Radio - Dig Your Grave

“Yeah, right!” the wolf demon says between guffaws. “You’re hot, dude, but you’re no angel!”

“Yes I fucking am!” Adam shouts. “That fucked up little gremlin did something, but as soon as this shit is fixed, me and my girls are going to rock. Your. World.”

The demon stops laughing. The stupidity of his face is momentarily overtaken by a thoughtful look as he looks Adam up and down. He stops when he reaches his face, leaning closer and squinting. Then, he grins even wider than before. “Oh yeah?” he breathes. “Is that a threat, Adam?”

Adam grins, and for the first time, he doesn’t care that his mouth is full of fangs. “It’s a fucking promise.”

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Fanfic #Hazbin Hotel Adam #Hazbin Hotel Alastor #Sinner Adam #Alastor the Radio Demon #Alastor isn't in the preview but TRUST ME he's important to the chapter and overall story #Salvation on the Radio

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fire-dwelling · 8 months ago

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On the meta stuff in FF, are you against it on principle or just because of the execution, like the whole weird Tamaki twitter rant, ruining Soul Eater by proxy, etc?

I'm against the meta stuff in Fire Force just because of the execution, not on principle.

I'd be hypocritical to criticize meta stuff on principle when I've enjoyed, and likely written online repeatedly, about specific moments of meta stuff that work for me, whether it's a fourth-wall break, an Easter egg, a mythology gag, a reference, whatever.

I'm the guy who enjoys Chowder despite how much whining people at the end had about the fourth wall jokes. I'm the one guffawing when Catwoman in that Adam West animated Batman film offers to give herself up if Batman reenacts the ending of the third Nolan film and Robin says, "Holy unsatisfying ending"--because the entire Adam West series was a campy wink at the camera that reinforced the comedy and the superhero fantastic. I grew up on Animaniacs and Looney Tunes and Tex Avery cartoons talking right to the audience, acknowledging they are cartoons within their own world, breaking the suspension of disbelief, even when I'm watching the old Looney Tunes shorts on TV instead of at the movies but understanding the gags when Yosemite Sam is talking at someone in the movie theater audience: I can appreciate this stuff, I enjoy these meta gags, I laugh at them. But notice that all of those examples are comedies. Ohkubo instead wanted this stuff taken seriously--and it falls flat on its face.

This isn't even like forcing references for the sake of it, however awkwardly done to the point that they take the audience out of the story: see every remake, every bit of recent Sonic the Hedgehog content, every mythology gag in Doctor Who that feels tacked on. (And even Who did better with the fourth-wall break because it is, intentionally or not, eerie and discomforting in order to make the mystery more engaging.) At least Buckaroo Banzai was, again, a comedy and an overall pastiche of the serial narrative that you jumped into it right in the middle so of course you don't know what the watermelon is for: that is the joke, the meta stuff is integral to the gag.

But there is next to nothing integral to the two major meta moments in Fire Force: Tamaki's role in this world, and the book Maka's parents read to her at the end.

The former is the one time we have someone as a symbol of any larger aspects to this world that, without them in it, the world collapses. (The story tries to make Shinra, Sho, and their mother take on those roles--but they are hardly embodiments of any detail, they aren't even cliche enough to be archetypal.) If it turned out that just about every character was purposefully so archetypal as to be needed for this world, maybe the meta stuff would fit better: Akitaru is the father to his soldiers, Takehisa is the blunt honest guy, Maki is the hot-blooded passionate one, etc. But, because Ohkubo managed to make these characters _not_ so one-note as that, he fails at even that setup. It's Gomez Addams trying to be a failure and succeeding despite himself, or The Producers: he failed at failing--he could have made this all so one-note then, surprise, it was like that on purpose, and he wasn't even that conceited, hipster, pseudo-intellectual enough to do that! Gah!

And the latter is just confusing: why is there now this book that has the exact same name as the manga? Why would a story about the origin of the world be called Enen No Shotobai--was the book at all about that amazing brigade, or was it about the origins of the world?

As I've said, the Tamaki rant was frustrating: Ohkubo was getting offended over his story being criticized, he broke the fourth wall to complain that readers didn't understand him (similar to the presence of the doppels of Joker and Benimaru allowed the original characters to complain how those characters are misunderstood) all to defend something I find reprehensible, where he tries to excuse his perving on an underage girl by claiming it's all about declining birth rates and idealized sexuality (which, again, he is saying is in the form of an underage girl: fuck this guy).

And, yeah, it ruins Soul Eater by proxy when it's part of the shared universe and shared timeline, rather than just a work by the same author or even, as someone else has suggested, if it was an alternate world or part of a multiverse.

And ending the story with Maka being read the entire manga as if it was a children's book account as to the origins of this world is one last middle finger to the readers. Anything more I can say on this would probably be the same nitpicking I've done: why is this the last moment for the story, why is Ohkubo reminding us of his better work (Soul Eater, with Maka here) within his inferior work (Fire Force), is this children's book selection something that we should shrug as a Death Child thing (of course Maka's parents would read this violent account to their child)?

Funny how next to none of this is ever brought up in Soul Eater. I know that a work, especially one trying to be quote-unquote "realistic," would not have characters suddenly saying, "Hey, remember how the Big Bang happened almost 14 billion years ago, and how dinosaurs died off 65 million years ago," because no one rehashes and info-dumps their world history and lore building like that. But seriously, no one ever brings up, "Yeah, this world used to be entirely on fire--that's why the soil is so full of carbon or whatever happens when you burn everything"?

So, yeah, that's another reason it bothers me: it's not just that it's trying to be meta, it's that even the meta stuff screws with pre-established details that make the worldbuilding less enjoyable and gets in the way of plot, setting, and character progression.

#long post #dwells whines about fire force

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aerospectrum · 8 months ago

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“I didn’t need that box of laid out ingredients I only used it to entertain you; I saw you ooglin my ass while you cut fruit; you think I didn’t notice?” Dean was fast to fire back. “I mixed extra hard just to give you a show, Madison…” he emphasized her name for the hell of it- and because it was fun to spike a reaction. Or try to.

“No I do..” another speedy response this time more genuine, more honest than before. “I want it I just, I don’t know- I guess I don’t know that I see it happening.” He swirled the juice around in his cup and ate half another pancake, trying to think of a way to express himself better. “I want a family I just don’t want a family when I’m stuck in this life; having to deal with monsters and threats against them. I want… a place of my own, space and room for them to gross up and live and be happy… be oblivious to this life even. But no woman is gonna sign up for a guy with a laundry list of.. red flags or something.” Subconsciously Dean avoided looking Madison in the eyes while he spoke but the slurry of different emotions and facial expressions still played out visibly.

“I think about Sam and how I dragged him back into this; I mean he was this close to that apple pie life. I just didn’t wanna be alone and I needed his help. But; I don’t know I think about how things would’ve panned out differently if I hadn’t gone back for him. What would’ve happened who he would’ve become. Who I would’ve become.” He shrugged. “I want a lot of things… just don’t think I deserve them.” A strained laugh followed and he tucked away the vulnerability that had started to sneak its way out with her. His eyes narrowed at her description of the woman and he smirked to himself. “Yeah.. you’re right, she is pretty mean.” He laughed more lighthearted that time. “But I kinda liked that.” He gave her a serious look, half his smile raising up to return the cocky demeanor to his face.

The way Madison guffawed at his blindness to his own level of worry had Deans face scrunching in semi-offense. As if to say how dare she recognize his protective streak… “I do not!” He claimed in embarrassed exasperation. “I don’t radiate worry… I.” He was just about to prove her point by defending why he’d been so defensive over Castiel and then further hammer her point home with how he’d stab a bitch through the face and tear them apart if they laid a hand on Sam, but then Madison revealed it was a good thing. At least to her. He swallowed tensely, his adams apple bobbing softly in his throat. It was like she lit a match and tossed it right into his stomach, red washed clean over his features at her apparent boldness.

There was a clambering of chairs, a scrambling of arms and hands fighting for where to grip and rest and feel— hands on her thighs hoisting her upwards back onto the half messy counter; he swore there was rolling of hips, fingernails dragging across shoulder blades; lips ghosting over her neck and jawline till they were locked in on her lips.

“Live In cook hmm?” She forked a bite of the pancakes testing them in the bite she chewed. “Mmmmm… interesting, yeah I don’t know. I think I want a live in cook that isn’t so cocky & full of himself. Someone should is more than just a pretty face & a box of laid out ingredients.” She teased back.

“So… you don’t ever think about it? Or want it?” A spouse & kids….. his life sounded lonely too. And she could sense that maybe he was just a tad deprived too.

“I don’t know many girls like that. The one I do know is really needy. She’s also kinda mean, don’t know if you can handle a lady like that. She’s know for making grown men cry. Sometimes in sadness, sometimes in pleasure, just depends on her mood.” Her glass came up to her lips trying to hide the devious smile growing. “Just looking for someone to make my lonely life a little more bearable…. & if he happens to be a good cuddle partner, then you won’t find em complaining.”

“Don’t seem like it?” She echoed & snorted. “You definitely radiating worrying about safety. You got so defensive over cas… can’t even imagine how you would be over Sam.” Madison chose not to bring up the way he cupped her face asking if she was okay. “It’s good though… it shows you care & sometimes it’s so hard to care.” In between her bite her head tilted slightly, “am I ever going to get that kiss? Or are you going to keep me waiting until I explode?”

#rpwiththelilflower #c; madison #c; dean (there ain't no other men like me)#c; castiel ( the abandoned son)#c; sam (we're the guys that save the world)

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years ago

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Pagtingin

"I'll just wait for the wind to sweep away my words."

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!Reader.

Fluff; keeping your feelings secret; glimpses of Wanderer before he got his memories back; classic Scaramouche behavior; feel good story.

Heeey, @monicahar, guess I'm your secret santa uwu you know how much I love angst so know how I tried my very best to make this as fluff and kinda crack as you wished! I have FOUR retakes of this because I'm writing for the Scaramouche master writer (first one got rejected cuz it's quite angsty but I hope you liked it!)

"Mr. Sandman, sand me a saaand," you take a sighing pause, breathing in, and starting again. "Dendro archon, send me a siiiign -"

"What the hell are you singing about?"

"Wanderer!" And there he was in all his glory, arms crossed and stare full of judgment yet stuck to you as you stumbled across the room to reach the windowsill, opening the window to see that - yep, he's floating in mid-air.

The high rising moon behind him framed his ethereal form so beautifully, as if he was a messenger of Celestia ready to take you to the skies above.

You cough to your hand.

His squint lightens, descending to sit on the windowsill so you wouldn't have to crane your neck awkwardly to maintain eye contact.

"There's that Wanderer I know."

The sweet lost foreigner that first stepped foot into Sumeru City with eyes filled with innocent wonder. As a proud citizen and a strange sense of responsibility, you approached the then stranger for an impromptu tour around the humble place, something that he seemed to have needed desperately.

You still remember when he asked about where the sunsettias and harra fruits could be found, in case his employer needed to restock his stall. Of all the beauty that no other nation could compare, he wanted to know where the fruits are.

Safe to say your sudden guffaw had him spooked for a bit, but are you really to blame for how adorable he is for being so new to the world like he is?

It was a nice surprise too when you stumbled upon his fabled stall in the Grand Bazaar one day while he was tending to customers, flustered from the rush hour and his lack of training. Despite not needing it, you willed yourself to buy a watermelon just to talk to him again and give him a better customer service experience.

"Thank you for your purchase - ah, and come again sometime!"

You had to eat watermelon slices for a week because of that impulse buy, but his shy smile was worth the diet change.

But then his overall demeanor changed when you found an anemo vision hanging near his chest, at the same day that he left his merchant work with a blonde traveler. The Wanderer you knew didn't glare like that, talk like that, act like that. It was so quiet between you two, and it felt like he was sizing you up, unsure what to do with you.

"Hey!" His indigo eyes watched you place your hands on your hips with an annoyed huff. "You can't act like this just cuz you got a vision now, getting one doesn't mean you have to change up on me. We're friends still!"

And while his huff and eye roll are baffling to see on your sweet Wanderer, you can't deny his smirk suits him perfectly.

"Look who's the lonely one now." He clicks his tongue, mockingly, yet there were no apparent venom in his words. Back when he asked why you were hanging around him, you told him that he looked lonely too.

("Why are you doing all this? For me? Someone who's -" his Adam's apple bobbed so harshly as he gulped. "A stranger." The way he said those words sounded strangely strained.

"I just thought you looked quite lonely," you settled with no double meanings or deep words those scholars in the Akademiya tend to use. There's no need to beat around the bush with him. Leaning over your stall, you dipped your head under his hat to level his gaze more clearly. "Lonely and a lil confused, like you needed a friend.")

"Yeah, I missed you." He's always seemed like the type of person who wants the blatant truth.

"I -" And his actions had always been honest with you. What with the way he paused and avoided your stare, how he turns his head away and tilt his hat down to hide the expressions he's making. Perhaps your honesty doesn't just come from his preferences. "I suppose that's expected what with you being locked up here for - what? Eight days?"

"Almost nine." Heaving another sigh, your arms hang over the platform as you slump on the spot next to him.

Stuck in your dormitory room because of a flu you caught while out collecting data. While it's not life-threatening for anyone whatsoever, it's still contagious enough for the Akademiya to force you to self isolation until you got better. You haven't had contact with others in days, at least, that's what the Akademiya knows.

Wanderer stares at you with a look that screams out 'why the hell are you looking at me like that?' as you feel a smile force its way to your face, unable to hide it even from him. How could you when the man in front of you, no matter how many times you warned not to get close because of your flu, would only scoff about how ironic it was that you're the one saying those words.

You're thankful that he's confident of his immune system to keep visiting you like this.

He didn't have to visit every day the hour before your assigned bed time, but he's always here on the dot.

Despite the sudden change, Wanderer is still just as easy to read no matter how hard he tries not to be.

"Right, I almost forgot." You watch as he pulled out something wrapped in a beautiful blue furoshiki, the sweet smell already betraying the surprise before he unwraps the baklava for you. "You asked for some yesterday and I didn't want you to whine again."

"Pastries! Oh I love you so much!"

He can remember it so clearly that he could recreate every frame of the scene: The overwhelming feeling in his chest with the tightness in his throat, him opening his mouth before pressing his lips together before the first word could even come out.

Wanderer felt physical pain from the battle in his mind while you happily indulge in the pastry, blissfully unaware of the things you do to him.

Why was he here again after he got his memories back? Why does he keep coming back to this student that showed him around the city when he first arrived?

Lesser Lord Kusanali proposed to keep this connection instead of wallowing in self pity now that the world has forgotten him (that was his own doing), yet it was something that locked him in ball and chain despite having the conscious mind to get away.

Yet the way you immediately turn to him with an amused smile, "Something on your mind?" Easily defeated the clashing virtues debating in his mind. "You want a baklava?"

There was a pained expression on his face as he clutched his hand over his chest, he knows you've seen it no matter how he tried not to look like it. The Wanderer had always been so honest with you that's true, because it was so easy to just be him with you.

But that's not really him, is it?

Puppets like him don't need to breathe.

Yet at that time, perhaps Nahida was right that there really wasn't any difference between a human and a puppet.

"Do you think I deserve a second chance?" He let slip in front of the archon one day when his thoughts raged like the fires of a faraway furnace, too slow to bite his tongue and too frustrated to cover up with a 'forget it.'

Nahida, in contrast, takes time to think things through and watch his body language. From the way he avoids her stare and how his crossed arms looked more defensive of a different insecurity. The god of wisdom doesn't need to read minds to know this is an entirely different case.

"Let's put it this way, what's stopping you from thinking you don't deserve it?" Deserve her, more like.

And his old self would have said nothing, that he deserves everything he desires for all the efforts he had done to get to where he is now. But he's better than that now, no, he's better than that because of you.

Why must he be awkward around you?

Why must he be so hang up on every detail about him and you?

Why must he be so insecure of who he is and who you are?

"Because I'm not human," yet he uttered those words as if he was baffled by his own answer, eyes wide with confusion as he clutched his head. "Yet these days I feel like I'm one."

He practically all but shoved the poor pastry into his mouth, biting down with just a little too much force than intended. Fuck, he hates sweet things!

And so the puppet known as a human does his best to ignore your snickers with how his face contorts into irritation and disgust as the layers melt stickily in his mouth. Oh, he hates you, hates how much he loves you.

He hopes you don't blame him, it's hard to take a gamble with the only chance he's ever getting.

"How's your research going?"

"My proposal is ready, when I'm out of here, I wanna try and get funding to go conduct research in the desert."

"Mhm."

"Then I'll take you with me and tour you there too, I promise the views are worth it!"

"Alright, I'll hold you to it."

So for now, he will keep his peace until he's ready. He only hopes that when he confess his secrets, your opinion of him won't change.

He only hopes... when he reveals his feelings, your opinion of him won't change.

Maybe tomorrow, you'll be his. He can only hope.

This is loosely based on a song called Pagtingin, with English translations here! That's the vibe I'm going for where the singer is hesitating to confess his feelings because he's afraid that the person he loves would treat/see him differently if they don't share the same feelings.

Tagging: @maehemthemisfit @ireallylikehamsters @chuusposts

#gixrsecretsanta2022 #monicahar #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #genshin impact fluff #sumeru arc #fem reader

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oh-hell-help-me · 2 years ago

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Day 9: Shell

It was something straight out of a storybook, to see their efforts actually work.

Reports have come through daily, compiled from sections of industrial plants, mines, and -most importantly- the agricultural industry.

It wasn’t that it didn’t exist before, per say, but the limitations of living on and near an active volcano have essentially funded projects and ‘solutions’ via war confiscations.

But with The Plan?

It opened up occupations ranging from greenhouse manufacturing, pipe construction, electronics manufacturing (in which he’s heard that Iggy collaborated with budding inventors for), and the overall selection process for what Luigi knew as ‘High-Yielding Variety’ crops.

It doesn’t hurt that diplomatic negotiations have also opened up trade.

Unemployment rates dropped to 13% by the second day -AND the only reason it wasn’t lower was due to the process of training the kingdom’s workforce for what is essentially new production procedures.

He would have gone to see the training himself, maybe even suggested ways to streamline it, but…

Since he apparently couldn’t be trusted to keep himself safe, Bowser and his brother have come to a rare agreement:

Luigi, Ambassador of the Mushroom Kingdom, Ghost Hunter, Thrice Defeater of King Boo, and one of the Mario Brothers… is now to be babysat by the Koopa King.

In the first two days in Bowser’s possession, Luigi had only been let down when he had either needed to go to the bathroom, or if his brother and Peach were visiting.

Not even the presence of snickering diplomats deterred him.

Bowser’s plastron (unless they call it something different…?) was surprisingly velvety to the touch, although experimental pokes showed it to be just as hard as his shell.

And no, he was NOT feeling the Koopa up! That would’ve been rude!… But boredom was universal for those of the confined, and Luigi was adamant about not staring at Bowser’s face OR falling asleep!

Hence, his investigations.

“Something on my face?”

And just like that, Luigi is snapped from his reverie -blushing when he realizes he’s been staring at Bowser’s face.

'Luigi, you fool! You thoughtless fool!'

He’s internally screaming, but the Koopa only shows amusement as Luigi burrows into his green sweater.

“I know I’m a handsome Koopa, but you don’t have to stare~.”

Luigi could only whine.

With a snort, he taps Luigi’s hat over his eyes “Really, though. What’s got your head in the clouds?”

Righting his hat -really, the nerve of this guy- Luigi shoots him a half-hearted glare. “N-nothing!”

“Oh?” Bowser obviously doesn’t believe him. “My devastatingly gorgeous looks are nothing to you?”

“No! I mean-“ Luigi knows that his face is as red as his brother’s hat, but that’s the least of his worries. “Stop twisting my words!”

Bowser bursts into guffaws that have Luigi bounce on his plastron, having the mind to have a paw out to prevent the human from bouncing out of his grasp.

“A-and 'no-thing' m-eans-s noth-ing!”

The guffaws eventually abate, but the crap-eating grin Bowser wore was nearly unbearable. "And your expression means that it's not 'nothing'! So cough it out!"

Bowser was enjoying the way Luigi seemed to get more and more flustered, noting the way his blush spreads from his cheeks, to his ears, and then down to his neck. It almost makes him curious to see-

Ahem.

He focuses back on the Green Bean, realizing that he resorted to burrowing his face into his plastron. He could barely feel the pressure from it- almost like having a bowl of grapes rest on him.

"Would you rather have Mario to talk to? I'm sure he has some spare time-"

"NO!"

He jolts in his seat, not expecting the shy human to actually shout.

...It's almost impressive, for him to have those kind of pipes.

"sorry." Bowser barely hears it, but it's enough to lead him back to the topic.

"Then let it out Greenie. It's not like I get offended easily."

Luigi mutters something that almost sounds passive-aggressive, but he isn't given time to guess before Luigi blurts out:

"What do you call it?"

He's.... stumped. "It?"

"Um." The blush is back, but the human seems determined to elaborate. "The hard thing on your stomach. What is it called?"

Bowser smirks, but simply replies, "A plastron."

This time, he KNOWS he hears a 'knew it' from Luigi, and Bowser's smirk is slowly growing wider.

"And-and those?" The man touches the tips of his fingers, gesturing at the sharp edges. "Do you call them claws -or talons, or...?"

"Claws." Bowser resembles a particularly toothy alligator now. "I was joking about the staring, but I didn't realize I'm so fascinating to you."

"You are!"

And now he's sure he looks shocked stupid.

"N-NOT LIKE THAT! I mEAN-" Luigi is panicking, clearly. "I- just wanted to know because I wasn't sure? I- never really saw a Koopa outside battle, and- and you guys look really interesting!"

He is so, utterly glad that Koopas can't blush.

Still, he does his best to look nonchalant. "Well- why didn't you say so? The Royal Library has a bunch of books about our impressive anatomy! I can 'supervise' while you read your tiny heart out!"

"...YOU HAVE A LIBRARY?! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!"

THAT is only answered with a laugh as Bowser starts to lumber down a hall, not caring as the human starts to sputter.

Honestly? He's glad to have Luigi as a friend. But the human?

He's adorable ridiculous.

#bowuigi #KAIJUNE Prompt #short #but honestly a breather as things get heavier #til next post!#HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

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doubtingthomasin · 3 years ago

Text

prompt 31: aftercare

word count: 1.1k

how the hell has it already been a month?! seriously

from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much to everyone who read along. whether you read all of them or read a few, i am equally grateful. i know most of it's just smut that happens to have a plot, but i've never seen my writing be so appreciated in my entire life as i have by the hellcheer fandom these past four weeks.

and, of course, this isn't the end. i'm still writing my longfic, and eddie and chrissy are main characters there, too. it was just nice to take a break and write them in softer surroundings for once.

if you see this collection on ao3, it'll be in two parts: the eddissy ficlets, and the steddissy ficlets. two separate stories. yes, i promise it'll make sense.

again, thank you. and sorry to anyone whose comments i didn't respond to i'm really bad about that ugh but just know i saw every kind word and encouragement and i'll remember this. definitely one of the best fandoms i've ever written for.

and now, the end.

(of the prompt list, not my writing-you know what i mean.)

@viharker thank you for such an inspiring list!

-------

Eddie sits behind Chrissy in the tub, gently running the washcloth over her shoulders so the steaming water would trickle down her back and front. She sighs, content, leaning back into his chest.

"This feels so nice," she admits, "but I'm telling you, I think bleeding just…happens sometimes."

"Yeah, but…still." He's not really sure what to say, but he's grateful his heart rate has slowed from when he initially saw the blood. It wasn't a lot, but any amount would've made him feel just as awful as he does now.

"Eddie, I liked it," she says softly, adamant. “I mean, I…really liked it. Seeing you lose control like that…it was kind of hot.”

He laughs through his nose, feeling the compliment down in his groin. “Just ‘kind of’?” She giggles lightly, his hands creeping up her sides and tickling under her arms, making her squeak in protest. He stops with a kiss to her temple, holding her close as the warmth relieves their aching muscles. “So it didn’t hurt, then.”

She hesitates, hoping he doesn’t make a big deal of this, too. “I didn’t say that.”

He closes his eyes, sighs, rests his forehead against her hair as something occurs to him. “But you don’t like pain.”

Chrissy thinks for a moment. “I guess I’m changing my mind.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, hesitant.

“It means–” She turns her head to look into his eyes, running a soft hand over his cheek. “I like it if it’s you.”

He smiles slowly, sweetly, as she leans in for a brief kiss, leaning her head on his shoulder once they part. “I feel like that shouldn’t make me as happy as I am.” Her shoulder shakes against him as she laughs quietly, playing with a lock of his hair. “But you still need to be able to walk the stage next week.”

“So do you,” she says with a big smile.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Jesus, finally.” There’s silence for a moment before he continues. “Shouldn’t I get you, like…an apple or something?”

“God,” she guffaws. “Just the fact that you passed is enough of a gift for me. Or you could eat me out.”

“Oh, definitely doing that anyway.” He kisses her neck, nipping a little under her jaw as she sighs. “And then my babygirl’s going off to college.”

“Yeah.” Her smile fades as his does, both staring at the marble tile across from them with a certain amount of looming dread. He squeezes her tighter, her hands curling firmly around his arm as she swallows thickly. “We have all summer, though.”

He nods against her hair. “We do. You’ll be sick of me.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “Never gonna happen.”

“I don’t know,” he teases doubtfully. “I’m an acquired taste, but tastes change…what, every few years, isn’t it?” She lightly elbows him and he squeezes her again, laughing when she splashes him with bathwater.

“And I’ll come home on weekends,” she promises as he peppers her head with kisses. “As long as we can keep that from my mother.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Nobody we know has any reason to talk to her anyway.”

“Except Jason.”

They stay silent for a long moment, then Eddie takes a deep breath. “You don’t think he’d try anything, do you?”

She briefly remembers how angry her ex looked as he stormed away at the grocery store, but pushed it from her mind just as quickly as it came. “I think I’ll kill him if he does.”

“I’d still help.” He rocks them back and forth a little, soothing her while she grins at the sadistic thought.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she says, shaking her head to clear it.

“Yeah–oh.” He gently pushes her forward as he works to stand, suddenly climbing out of the tub. “Be right back.” Quickly, he grabs a towel and wraps it around his hips.

Chrissy watches him leave, like always, leaning back in the tub and running the washcloth over her arms. He’s gone longer than she anticipated, and she sighs impatiently. She eventually closes her eyes and sinks down into the water, luxuriating in the slight weightlessness it provides. She doesn’t stay under for long, but he’s back when she resurfaces, looking down at her with a smile. “How long have you been standing there?”

A shrug. “Doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head as he gets down on his knees by the tub. “Here.” He holds out a pendant on a clasped chain, and she holds her hands open for him to drop it in. On further inspection her heart leaps, recognizing it as her chain and not a pendant, but the one ring Eddie wears on his right hand. “I should’ve given it to you weeks ago, and I’ll hopefully be able to buy you a chain for it someday soon. I just picked out one of yours because there’s no way that thing will even fit your thumb…what?”

She’s giving him an almost heartbroken look, cradling the jewelry in her hands as if it’s the most precious thing she owns. And now it is. “Eddie…I can’t take this.”

“You’re not taking anything, I’m giving it to you,” he corrects softly. “It’s yours. I’m yours…no matter where you go.”

She feels the sting behind her eyes, looking down at the ring as he kisses her on the forehead. “Put it on me?”

He does, placing the chain around her neck as she holds her hair out of the way, the ring a small, comforting weight against her chest. “Thank you.” She kisses him deeply, his hands resting on her back even as she pulls away. “Come on.”

She doesn’t even bother grabbing a towel, but takes him by the hand and rushes to her room, letting go of him to look through her jewelry box. He can’t help but chuckle a bit as she bounces on her toes, her cute little butt bouncing along. “Chrissy, what are you–”

“No, no, it’s perfect, actually,” she says before he can protest, turning back to him when she finds what she’s looking for. She takes one of his hands, uncurls his fingers, and places her senior necklace in his palm. “It’s not your style, I know, but…you could probably put the ‘86’ on something. Maybe on your vest somewhere.”

He swallows hard, remembering the first time he got a good look at the necklace that day at the picnic table, sitting across from her, flailing on the ground and trying to make her laugh. He glances back to her, nodding as he kisses the charm before pulling her into his arms.

“I’m yours, too,” Chrissy murmurs. “No matter what.”

Eddie smiles to himself, letting happiness overwhelm him for the first time in a long time, stroking her hair as he sighs. “No matter what.” He holds them both, the one thing he knew in his soul would be his, and the one person he never could’ve dreamed of, loving him back.

His year.

His girl.

#i...am fine #eddissy #hellcheer #hellcheer kinktober #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #evan's writing

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get-wr3ckered · 2 years ago

Text

| Karma- (GN Reader x The Bad Batch) |

Warnings: SW cursing but does that actually need a warning? Other than that I don’t think any warnings are warranted.

Wordcount: 1,200+

Notes:

Reader has an established nickname/ callsign.

While Reader is gender neutral, they're AFAB.

I think I’ve added all the appropriate warnings and tags but if I’ve missed something or tagged it incorrectly feel free to let me know and I’ll fix it asap!

Am I writing this without actually having started watching TBB yet? Yes I am. Am I praying that from the brief snippet we saw of the Batch in SWTCW that I’m doing their characterisation some semblance of justice? Also yes.

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-Chapter Two-

< Previous Next >

"Alright," Hunter voiced once they made the jump to hyperspace, drawing his brother's focus. He nodded to Tech who'd already had his datapad in hand, Cody's briefing no doubt at the ready. "What're we in for?"

Tech was silent for a moment. His eyes scanning quickly over the words in front of him. "Well, it's certainly not good."

"You don't say," Crosshair jibed. The eye roll that would've no doubt followed never came to be as Hunter shot a warning look his way.

Unbothered by Crosshair's words, Tech read on through Commander Cody's briefing. "It appears that a Special Operative known as 'Karma' has been captured by the Separatists, General Grievous to be precise."

Hunter gave a slow nod, gesturing for Tech to continue, seemingly unaware of the slight furrow that pulled at Echo's brows.

"They were to gather vital information on a new make of Battle Droid that has been giving the GAR particular trouble as of late." Adjusting his goggles, he continued. "They were assigned the task three rotations ago. I wonder why Commander Cody is so adamant about this 'Karma' being retrieved so swiftly. The Separatists have held Republic prisoners for considerably longer before any rescues were attempted."

"It's obvious isn't it?" Crosshair scoffed, Tech furrowed his brow and turned to his brother questioningly. "Commander Cody's got a soft spot for this one."

"Stow it, Cross," Hunter sighed. Crosshair's comment wasn't helpful, and even if that were the case, it wasn't any of their business. Turning his attention to Echo, Hunter took note of the thoughtful look twisting at his pallid features. "Echo, you good?"

Echo let out a quiet hum in response. He knew that callsign from somewhere and yet he couldn't quite place where. It was almost mocking him, the way the name nagged at him to remember something just out of reach.

"Echo?" Hunter tried again but got no response.

The furrow of Echo's brow deepened momentarily. The edges of a blurred memory began to clear up, a seemingly inconsequential interaction clawing its way to the surface... And then the realisation slammed into him like an out-of-control speeder.

"What?" Wrecker guffawed, exchanging a look with the others as Echo's demeanour dropped without a word. "You know 'em or something?"

"Or something," Echo muttered cryptically, his eyes widening a fraction as his mind danced with the memory of how he knew you and who had been the cause of your brief meeting.

Sensing his reluctance to speak further, Hunter turned back to Tech. "What's our ETA looking like?"

Turning back to the Pilot's controls, Tech looked them over briefly before answering. "We'll be dropping out of Hyperspace in a moment, by my calculations we'll be on the ground in eleven minutes or so."

"Let's gear up then."

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Alarms blaring was not an ideal wake-up call, but given you were currently stuck with the Separatists you supposed it could've been worse, a lot worse.

You weren't sure when you'd nodded off in all honesty but after three rotations of forcing yourself to stay awake, the small amount of unwanted rest came as a relief. The tired sting of your eyes wasn't as intense, your limbs didn't feel as heavy and the pounding in your head had dispersed a little. It seemed your impromptu nap had done a world of good.

Shimmying forward, as far from the wall as your restraints would allow, you peeked through to where the droids had been stationed... only to find them nowhere in sight.

'What the kriff is going on?' You silently asked yourself as you move back to the wall to give yourself some slack on the restraints.

While the alarm itself was somewhat concerning, this was the first instance since your capture that you had been left unsupervised and you were not about to waste this opportunity. Twisting your bound wrists behind your back, you manoeuvred your flesh hand to grasp the section of your prosthetic that connected to your arm. Working quickly, your fingers danced over the plastoid shell of your bionic limb, seeking out the release mechanism with practised ease.

Your prosthetic fell limp, a quiet clatter hanging in the air as it fell to the floor unceremoniously. Pulling your now hand-free wrist from the restraints was all too easy- getting the prosthetic back on without the use of your still bound hand however, not so much. It took a great deal of fighting with the limp hand and an uncomfortable amount of time trying to position it just right between your knees but eventually, you managed to click the artificial hand back into place.

With your hand firmly secured, breaking free of the remaining restraint was a breeze. The worn metal clasp that kept them shut didn't hold up when pitted against the strength of your artificial fingers. The small scratches left in the plastoid covering of your fingers were a small price to pay for being free of those damned restraints.

Pinpointing your escape route wasn't hard, you'd spent the majority of your captivity planning for this very moment. Crossing over to the left side of the cell, you made quick work of prying the vent cover from the wall, a silent thank you to the Separatists for being stupid enough to install vents in their cells passed briefly through your thoughts as you hauled yourself inside the small shaft, taking care to prop the cover back into place as best you could.

Climbing through the vent system, you aimed to put as much distance between you and the detention centre as possible. After several minutes of manoeuvring through the tight space, you paused briefly both to catch your breath and to try and get ahold of your partner-in-crime.

Sliding the plastoid panel that covered the back of your artificial hand to the side, you revealed the small blinking light of your comm. A sigh of relief fell from your lips. It was still active, the Separatists hadn't clocked the signal and put a block in place.

It really was a blessing how oblivious Separatist droids were sometimes. After all, who wouldn't check a bionic limb for built-in trackers or comms and such? Seppie droids, that's who.

"Hey Buddy," You tested, voice low as the clanking of metal feet echoed beneath you. "You reading me?"

A painful silence hung over you.

"Bewoop!"

Never in your life had you been so glad to hear the high-pitched beeps of a droid.

"For a second there I thought the Seppies gotcha," You mused, carefully inching forward through the vent system once more. "Please tell me this alarm's got nothing to do with you."

The sad sequence of beeps that crackled over your shared frequency wasn't comforting.

"Alright Buddy, it's not your fault." You assured despite the little droid admitting to having been spotted by a squad of battle droids. "You've got the data right?"

"Boop!"

"Good work little guy," You praised softly. "Alright, I need you to hightail it outta here with that data. If they catch you, they'll scrap you."

Another series of sad beeps came through, leaving you to shake your head at the droid despite it being unable to see you.

"Don't worry 'bout me, Buddy," You sighed. "Getting that data back to Cody is all that matters right now. I've gotten myself out of tighter spots, and I'll get myself out of this alright?"

With a quiet confirmation from the small droid, the comms channel went dead. Now all you could do was pray that Buddy got that data back to Cody.

It was out of your hands now.

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Taglist: @staycalmandhugaclone @photowizard17 @burningfieldof-clover @actuallybarb

Feel free to drop me a message to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

#star wars fic #star wars #star wars tbb #star wars clone wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #gn reader #x reader

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