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requiemforthepoets · 2 months ago

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you say good morning when its midnight ⟢ OP81 (part 5)

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PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar grew up together, and despite being neighbors and best friends with her sister, hattie, you never really talked or had a conversation with him. until one day, where he randomly texted you out of nowhere.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, (a little) slow burn, humor, fluff, inaccurate information, no consistent face claims, all photos are from pinterest, weird, awkward, unhinge, reader is a little bit ball of a mess, long distance relationships, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 555

AUTHOR'S NOTE: part 5! sorry if the update took a little long, i was away for a vacation. but i'm now back, and i'll try to update this series as much as i can. also, this series will be my primary focus for the meantime. i would like to apologize if this is a bit rushed, indecided not to some parts since i wanna focus on the plot, but i hope you'll enjoy this one!

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

It was four days later when the front desk called up to your apartment at Kent Ridge Hill Residences, letting you know that there’s an express package that had arrived for you. Couriers weren't allowed to go up to the units, so you had to head down to the lobby to collect the package yourself.

You linked in confusion, slipping on your slippers as you mumbled a soft, “I didn't order anything.”

You certainly haven't ordered anything. Not even a midnight retail therapy binge your forgot about. Still, you took the lift down and approached the reception desk, signing of the delivery. The box was not heavy, but it was neat, its brown cardboard edges sealed perfectly with a transparent tape that has the “fragile” word printed on the tape, and your name printed clearly on the shipping label. It wasn't large, nust enough to cradle in both arms comfortably.

You carried the box back to up to your apartment, the elevator ride feeling longer than usual. Once you reach your apartment, you quickly went in and locked the door. You sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of your living room, scissors in hand. You stared at the package for a good minute like it might explain itself if you waited long enough, and then you began carefully slicing through the tape until the flaps peeled back.

As always, your curiosity won out.

You opened the box with care, like it might contain something so fragile. Inside, nestled in a bed of brown paper, were four things: a fridge magnet in the shape of Mt. Fuji that has the word "JAPAN” lettering under it, a tiny sakura petals swaying in a snow globe dome, a frog mug that is oddly shaped like a tiny pitcher, curved and handmade-looking—like it was plucked off the shelf of a sleepy Kyoto ceramics shop, and finally, a delicate matcha tea set—complete with a bamboo whisk, ceramic bowl, and a tin of fragrant powder so green that it could’ve only have come from somewhere special.

You felt your hear skipped a little in your chest. You definitely knew who it was from before you can even see the the note that was tucked neatly beneath the matcha set. But still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened the small card, written in careful handwriting:

< I didn't buy you a postcard. I figured that’s somethinf you should do yourself, someday, when you’re finally there. I didn't want to take that moment away from you, but I thought I’d help you get started on the fridge magnet collection. Oh, the frog thing was just a spur of the moment thing, it reminded me of you and it looked like it should belong with you. - podium boi >

You read the note not only once, not twice, but three times. You couldn't help it and bit you lip, cheeks burning. The smile that grew on your face didn't stop for a long while. You tucked the note safely on your journaling notebook, then grabbed the fridge magnet and stood in front of your fridge, and with a soft click on the surface, you pressed the magnet into place. There was a quiet warmth blooming in your chest that you didn't quite know what to name just yet.

Postcard-less, for now. But not empty, not anymore.

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

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liked by hattiepiastri, yourmom, your brother, and 13 others

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

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104cadetlauren · 1 month ago

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The Tragedy of Levi and Hange

A Further Look into the Duty vs. Love Aspect of Their Relationship

Levi and Hange’s relationship was so subtle that if you weren't paying close attention, or if you’re someone who takes a scene at face value without digging deeper, you might miss it entirely.

Sometimes, people are so blind (or in denial) that even when there are romantic undertones, they dismiss them simply because the characters don’t blush, don’t openly express affection, or never say, "I love you."

I’m tired of hearing parts of the fandom invalidate or undermine Levi and Hange’s relationship—whether platonic or romantic—just because it lacks conventional displays of love. So please, let me explain why I believe Isayama designed their dynamic the way he did, especially through a military lens. (My father is a retired soldier, so I know a thing or two about this.)

When it comes to the Levi x Hange ship, we’ve often discussed how they always chose duty over personal desires. But when we say their relationship is about Duty vs. Love, what do we really mean?

One of the great tragedies of Levi and Hange’s bond is exactly that: they consistently chose duty over everything else, even their own feelings.

When analyzing ships in Attack on Titan, we often forget that these characters are, first and foremost, soldiers. Being a soldier is deeply ingrained in both Levi and Hange's identities (veterans). After serving in the military for over a decade (as of Season 4), it’s only natural that their personalities reflect military conduct and core values. It has been ingrained to them by Shadis and Erwin and their experiences.

This contrast becomes particularly evident in Season 4 of Attack on Titan, when Levi is a Captain and Hange is a Commander. As high-ranking officers of the Survey Corps, their dynamic shifts. The playful banter disappears. Levi stops calling Hange "Four Eyes." Hange becomes more serious, she even abandons her signature goggles for plain glasses.

So why all the subtlety?

In the military, there’s a term: Conflict of Interest. This arises when a service member’s personal relationships—family, friendships, romantic attachments—could compromise their professional judgment. In Season 4, Hange and Levi were exactly that: The Commander and Captain of the Survey Corps, which means, they are the highest ranking officers of the Survey Corps, the ones who provide decisions and leads the SC.

After Erwin’s death, they had no choice but to rely on each other more. They became each other’s confidants, both thrust into roles they weren’t fully prepared for. Becoming military leaders of a new Paradis.

It was no longer just about Titans; it was diplomacy, alliances, and surviving a world beyond the Walls. And amidst all this chaos, they were forced to confront not just their enemies, but their own feelings. A quiet, internal war: loyalty morphing into love, yet restrained by duty. Both felt it. Both buried it.

Before, they could hide behind their roles. But now the stakes were higher. The consequences greater. Giving in, even slightly, would risk scandal and speculation. As high-ranking officers, even a glance could be misread. Remember how Floch looked at Levi with disgust when he thought Levi chose Armin over Erwin due to personal bias? In truth, Levi denied his feelings. Had he followed his heart, he would have chosen Erwin, the easier choice emotionally. But he didn’t.

This is why, if Levi and Hange ever surrendered to their feelings, no matter how objective their decisions were, the shadow of personal bias would taint them. Their affection would be politicized. And they couldn’t risk that. Not with enemies outside the Walls. Not with their own people divided. Not when unity was fragile.

So, if you’re wondering why the romantic undertones of their relationship only surfaced when the story was nearing its end, it’s because by then, everything had already fallen apart. Their ranks meant nothing anymore. The Yeagerists labeled them as traitors. The Survey Corps was fractured. The world was literally ending.

Excuse my French, but shit had already hit the fan.

Hange killing her own comrades to protect a wounded (almost dying) Levi, the IFKK scene, Levi’s "unrequited love" line, the final salute—these moments came one after another because they could finally express themselves without the burden of conflict of interest.

But Levi and Hange’s relationship was always meant to end in tragedy.

They had suppressed their emotions for so long, they didn’t know how to express them anymore. Their gestures were always near-misses. They were running out of time.

Hange was the one who came closest to expressing affection toward Levi during the IFKK scene, but there was still unfinished business with Paradis and the Yeagerists. Then Eren declared the Rumbling, forcing them out of the forest faster than they expected. Once again, they had to bury their feelings and choose duty by forming the alliance.

A sliver of hope appeared. The alliance was formed. They had the flying boat. Levi was adamant, he was ready to address what happened back in the forest. He wanted Hange to know how he felt. Hence, the unrequited titan love line. But Hange already had a foreboding feeling. So, she pulled an Erwin. And guess what? Floch appeared and shot the gas tank of the flying boat, forcing Hange to stay behind and buy them time.

During their final conversation, just before Hange went on to fulfill her duty while the flying boat’s tank was being repaired, I believe Levi succeeded in telling her how he felt. Not in a romantic way, but in a way that a soldier like her would understand. (What do you want them to do? Kiss? In front of the kids and while Colossal Titans are literally marching toward them??? That’s so OOC for these two veterans—even I, a Levihan shipper, would cringe.)

Instead, Levi saluted her. A modified, deeply personal military salute—an unspoken confession of love and respect. And Hange understood.

And then, of course, she died after that.

Levi and Hange were always soldiers first. Isayama crafted their relationship to reflect that truth. And for me, it’s beautiful because it stayed so true to their characters. It ended in tragedy, but it was still beautiful. Like Akuma no Ko’s lyrics : The world is cruel, And yet I still love you.

Their story leaves us with an open end. Not because it’s incomplete, but because they never had the chance to complete it.

In the end, we’re left with the same uncertainty they lived with. A quiet space filled with unspoken feelings. Maybe we’re not meant to have clear answers about what they were, because they never got them either.

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mandalhoerian · 5 months ago

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(2) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Eight years ago, during the worst summer festival of your life, you cross paths with a certain seal for the first time.

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

< previous | next >

note: YES, THIS IS A SERIES! I hope you'll bear with me as I'm not actively editing/proofreading my writing and am going with the flow for the most part. Rafayel will also stay as a seal in the next chapter which centers around how he came to be smitten with the reader, so PLEASE PLEASE HANG TIGHT WE'RE GETTING THERE. I hope you enjoy!!!!

Ah, sweet summer festival. You're fifteen.

The entire archipelago is in motion tonight — a grand spectacle brought to life in the unofficial capital Salverna, which is also where you were born and raised, by throngs of locals with visitors pouring in from the mainland for an evening of festivities. Decorated boats crawl like jeweled beetles across the bay beneath a moonbeam sky, torches flickering like amber blossoms amidst colorful lanterns suspended overhead, painting faces in warm splashes of light. Instruments are tuned to perfect pitch, ready to launch into jigs and reels once revelers spill into dancing rings. Children sprint around bonfires with cheeks flushed by sugar, laughter ringing like silver bells in the breeze. Farther along, games fill the streets — prizes stuffed inside balloons perched precariously atop slender sticks, targets waiting to be pierced by dart tips, bobbing heads eager for coins — competing for attention with the delectable aroma of spiced sausage, roasted meat, skewers, sticky cinnamon treats, and fresh fruit piled high for sampling. Even the night's salty breath tastes like sunshine, and despite everything feeling faintly familiar, somehow still manages to seem entirely fresh.

If only you'd been there from the beginning.

No, you were here. The whole day.

At the docks, which is the farthest away from the main event.

Hauling seafood and chasing down lost tourists like some unpaid festival guide.

The family ferry business consisting of multiple vessels is the only one making direct trips between the mainland and the archipelago. Usually, things run smoothly — your parents know this route like the back of their hands, and during normal weeks, the boats run on a fairly consistent schedule with only the occasional minor detour to accommodate delayed travelers. Renting smaller boats out to tourists helps maintain some steady income for maintenance expenses during quieter months, although the real money comes from transporting passengers year-round.

But big events like this summer festival change everything. The mainland port is overflowing with people packed like sardines in a tin, and everyone scrambles for transport space like sharks smelling blood. It's impossible to accommodate every arrival simultaneously, even though Dad doubled the ferry service to operate nearly nonstop — one boat shuttling incoming guests while its twin carries locals back and forth between islands, and even then it isn't enough. People are forced to wait hours for passage, which inevitably leads to chaos erupting.

And the locals ferry doesn't just transport passengers. It hauls festival supplies — crates of seasonal produce shipped to the islands via mainland distributors, stacks upon stacks of boxes labeled FRAGILE in thick black marker, paper fans for the parade, props for the pageant, a seemingly endless list of necessary items for the vendors, bands, food stands, street performers, the barrels of festival cider rolling onto the deck, stacks of pastries needing careful hands to avoid toppling, baskets of flowers meant for decorating stalls that nearly got crushed in the shuffle — you name it — the list of deliveries keeps growing by the hour. And no one has extra hands to spare to deliver all this cargo to its final destinations.

Well, actually, one person does. Namely, you.

It started small. Mom catching you right as you tried to slip away this morning, asking to help with boarding real quick, and if you could take some packages along the way... It was easy to agree, at first — help a few elderly tourists steady themselves as they stepped from the ferry, answer questions from confused festival-goers trying to navigate between islands, toss a sack or two over your shoulder for the vendor working nearby. But an hour later, you were hauling half a crate uphill when one of the wheels broke loose, scattering fireworks across cobblestones in glittering disarray, leaving you running through town chasing them all down under curious gazes of the locals who saw the explosion...

And the moment the ferry docked, suddenly it was all hands on deck. One trip in, another out. Then, next thing you knew, you were the one handling tickets and guiding stragglers toward their destination, organizing groups, shouting helpful tips about what to avoid and what not to eat so you are not about to have people get sick on board and clean off their vomit, answering questions about local attractions and restaurant specialties, calling out to Dad who drove the ferry like it was child's play, warning the older folks and kids not to fall off because the last thing your family really needs is to be sued by someone stupid falling overboard...

And the entire time, you were in the dress you'd picked out specifically for the occasion. Thinking one more trip, and you could finally join your friends in the festivities...

A whole shift later, there are no celebrations awaiting you. No bonfire parties with the music so loud and joyous you could feel it thrumming through the ground, no crowded bars filled to bursting with cheerful singing and dancing, no raffle stalls offering chances to win souvenirs and free meals for years, no fireworks bursting across the night sky so brilliant they chased away the darkness.

Just you with your dress ruined and ripped because someone couldn't watch where they were going while drunk and collided straight into you and left you soaked in cheap beer, and the hem of it torn apart from you desperately trying to fix your mistake after misplacing the boxes of merch you were supposed to haul, again. Your friends probably already enjoying every aspect of the event, laughing their asses off in pure delight without caring for what you missed or had endured all day, knowing you were supposed to arrive with them to witness the greatest part of the summer celebration together.

With angry tears gathering at the inner corners of your eyes, you let the bags drop onto the dock with a harsh thump, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Maybe you're expecting an argument. Maybe you want to pick a fight because the frustration had been stewing ever since you woke up today and demanded release. Or maybe you hope your father would give you permission to go enjoy your own life, rather than force you to suffer his. But none of those comes to pass. Instead, he merely glances up with a tired look, holding your resentful stare before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face wearily with calloused, wrinkled hands.

“You said it would be quick,” you snap, voice shaking. “You said I could go like hours ago. The day is over!"

You choke back the wobble in your tone, biting harshly into your lower lip, hoping it'll prevent tears from leaking out even though it hardly hurts enough to distract you.

"Look, we're in the middle of peak season..."

"Which means peak profit for our business! Couldn't you have just hired someone extra to fill in?! Why did it have to be me?!"

"No other staff is available on such a short notice, especially during a big event." Dad shrugs weakly in apology, the gesture lacking any defensiveness or remorse. He looks drained, exhausted. And still, his priorities remain firmly fixed elsewhere. "Sorry, honey. Next week I'm hiring additional staff permanently, but for now — just one more hour, okay? You know we don't extend our services after the night falls and that's why—"

“No!” The frustration spills over before you can swallow it down. “It’s never ‘just a little longer.’ It’s always one more trip, one more errand, one more thing! I’m always the one stuck here!”

Dad frowns and straightens his spine slowly like a looming anime villain, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't raise your tone on me like that, I'm not one of your little friends. This is nothing. When you become captain, you'll have to endure far more work."

"I did everything you ask and suddenly my tone is the issue?!" You gesture wildly at your ruined dress, at the damp stains and torn fabric clinging to your skin. “Look at me! I was supposed to be there with everyone else, and now I can’t even show up like this—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Dad's voice turns sharp, exasperated. “It’s just a dress.”

"And now everyone probably hates me because I've skipped yet another celebration and ghosted them!" you huff and puff like an enraged bull despite his interruption.

"What's going on?" Mom hurries over from the harbor shop, stepping between you and your father before tempers flare even further. She takes in the scene at a glance and sighs deeply — though whether out of disappointment or irritation, you can't tell — carefully setting aside several stacks of receipts. "Are you two seriously bickering about nonsense when you should both be working?"

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m sick of this!” You throw your hands into the cold, humid sea breeze as though casting your complaints upon the tides, unable to keep the tremble from your fingers or the tears from streaking down your face. Hot drops patter against the faded wood planks beneath your feet. "“I work just as hard as you do, I never say no, but the second I want something for myself—"

Mom immediately gets what's going on, and alerts you to lower your voice by pointedly widening her eyes and thinning her lips. The entire dock is witnessing the argument and turning their heads to listen in at this point, but you don't care. Everybody should hear about this injustice.

"Yes, honey, I know," Mom hisses, "And we appreciate how hard you're trying, believe me. But — just one more trip, alright? Your friends will wait a bit longer for you, won’t they? Don't forget this isn't just about you. The archipelago depends on us running our business steadily and reliably."

And there it is. That unspoken expectation, that quiet assumption that you’ll always choose responsibility over what you want. That you’ll always understand.

Your throat tightens, choking back the bitterness burning in the pit of your stomach, and for a long moment, neither you nor your mom break the silence, and her stare remains fixed somewhere above your shoulder. Only Dad says anything, grunting a vague affirmative that tells you nothing more than your mother did; work must come first, whatever personal sacrifice must be made for that to happen.

You step back. “Forget it.”

“Honey—”

“I said forget it!”

You're running hot and cold, the rush of blood in your ears don't let your parents' protests in as you rush into the only place where you can be alone right now, the ticket counter cabin with the "CLOSED" sign on it, slamming the door shut behind you loudly and letting the cool glass barrier isolate you from the rest of reality. It's just you inside. There's a desk, empty paperwork piled neatly at the corner, a cash register. An old computer screen covered by dust. Shelves crammed with stacked-up folders and manuals. A window overlooking the harbor. This is also the place to leave your belongings at before clocking into work, just beside the locker of where the attendant usually leaves theirs.

On a whim, you snatch up your jacket and backpack before fleeing out into the crowd again. It's so easy to lose your parents along the wharf because of the teeming masses.

Your phone is buzzing rapidly in your bag with Dad and Mom both probably threatening to drag you back by your ear, so you take it out and switch to airplane mode before tossing it back in with a grimace. You're not allowed to be out this late without supervision (much less sneaking away from work), but right now, there's not an adult in existence that could compel you to walk willingly back into this mess. Screw it. Being grounded for life isn't any worse than being imprisoned on this stupid island forever anyway, you think, huffing quietly in protest as you stomp down the street. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you can spend some time with Aunt Leen. At least she wouldn't judge.

The festival feels a million miles away. You can’t go there, not in this state, stains everywhere, smelling like fish and sweat and regret, dress ripped apart. So, instead, you end up wandering along the rocky beach near the outer edge of town, in parallel to the protected seal rookery islet offshore and well beyond the boundaries of the town proper. The bright, swirling glow of the firework display across the water glints in the dark, mingling with distant stars and overshadowing the full moon, reflecting off rippling waters like flickering embers dancing across a glossy obsidian surface. The waves roll gently across sand and stone in soothing rhythmic whispers whooshes that pull you onward through the night like invisible ribbons drawing you back into the present.

This was always your favorite place as a child — wild and beautiful. An unclaimed stretch of wilderness stretching beyond the public access point, filled with coves and tide pools that felt like hidden kingdoms tucked away from the rest of the world. Here, among the jagged rocks, washed smooth by centuries of ebbing currents, you sit on one flat boulder, bare feet lapped at by the high tide and shoes by your side, frustrated tears dropping into the sea, staring absently off towards the seal islet floating peacefully in the distance.

You remember trying to swim out there years ago, despite having been strictly forbidden from venturing close to not disturb them. What would it be like, to be out in the open sea instead of tied to this isolated little community? To see something other than the same faces, places, and names repeated ad nauseam for all eternity, as though nothing changed no matter how many seasons passed? What would it take to break free?

"Ugh!" The sound bursts free before you can clamp your jaw shut, a ragged groan against clenched teeth as your palms scrub fiercely across your damp, salty cheeks.

Before you can start ranting into the night like a madman, your turmoil is shattered by a sudden, piercing cry like metal scraping stone ripping through your tangled thoughts. Your head jerks upward, pulse quickening into a painful drum-beat. Something is terribly off. Someone's hurt, panicking—or worse—maybe drowning?

But where?

You blink frantically, scanning the surrounding coastline, but the thick curtain of night refuses to offer clues. So you rely on your ears and follow the keening through the beach, stumbling hastily across damp sand, uneven rocks and slippery seaweed patches alike, nearly slipping on slimy barnacles embedded in the crevices between each massive stone and fighting hard to balance every step, all the while ignoring the scrapes accumulating on your soles from sharp pebbles digging into tender flesh and flaring in protest at every bit of impact.

Then, unmistakably—

A high-pitched, squealing shriek erupts out of the ocean — like the frantic deflating of a balloon twisting violently apart in midair.

Your stomach drops. The sound is frantic, terrified. Unmistakably animal.

And it's coming directly from the water.

At last, you spot the source of the commotion — about fifty feet offshore, just beyond a tangle of blackened driftwood clogging the shallows: Moonlight catches on slick, gray fur, the seal’s body bobbing helplessly, its hysteric movements hampered by the thick snare of a fishing net and heavy with debris, the tangled mess constricts tight, dragging it downward each time it fights to resurface.

Seals can drown. You know that much. You’ve heard Elias muttering to Dad, thick with disgust, after cutting loose yet another pup ensnared by abandoned traps — relics of poachers who refuse to acknowledge sealing was banned around here nearly thirty years ago.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Your mind stutters, paralyzed for a breathless instant. What do I do? What do I do?

There’s no time to think.

You’re moving before reason catches up, scrambling over slick, uneven rocks as brine stings the scrapes blooming across your bare feet. Your pulse slams against your ribs. In one frantic motion, you strip off your windbreaker, fling your bag aside, and plunge into the waves without hesitation. Salt explodes in a cool rush over your skin as you kick off from the seafloor, paddling hard, muscles burning with every stroke.

Next thing you know, your arms are locked tight around the drowning seal, grappling to haul it toward shore as it thrashes wildly, overwrought beyond reason and twisting all it can to land a blow with brutal strength you wouldn't expect from a round and inflexible body like that. Flippers beat against your chest, claws scrape at your arms, and its ragged cries tear through the night like something feral and furious. It doesn’t understand you’re trying to help — it only knows fear.

Somehow, impossibly, you make it.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest as you drag the tangled pup onto the shore, collapsing beside it in a gasping sprawl, limbs weak and trembling. Your lungs gulp down air that tastes like victory, the sweetest breath you've ever taken.

And then—

The seal’s shrieks reach a fevered pitch. It flails vigorously, flinging itself against the unyielding net, snapping, fighting, tearing at the fibers with blind desperation.

That’s when you see it.

The moon-desaturated dark liquid pooling beneath its body, sinking into the wet sand in sluggish tendrils.

Blood.

"No! Stop that, stop!"

You scramble upright, stomach at your throat, hands grabbing frantically at the writhing seal to keep it from thrashing itself into worse injury.

"Hey, hey — settle down! Stop moving — please! You're making it worse!"

It doesn’t listen. It fights harder.

Panic and instinct are what fuels its every move, and the more you hold on, the more fiercely it resists, wails cutting straight to the center of your chest, high and desperate, feeding your own fear in a vicious cycle. Its pulse is hammering beneath your hands, a wild, terrified beating of a bird's wings matching your own as its breaths come fast, erratic, interrupted by harsh snorts and shuddering yelps. The pup is almost one singular muscle beneath your grip, trembling and taut with the primal need to flee.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," you chant, the words spilling out in a frantic loop, cracking under the weight of utter desperation of not knowing what to do even as you're repeating you're there to helo. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me help — please — fuck, what do I do — ow!"

Pain explodes up your right forearm before the scream even leaves your throat.

Teeth. Deep. Sinking into muscle like fire.

Your body jolts with the instinct to yank away, but you don’t. You can’t. One wrong move and you’ll scare it even more, maybe make it clamp down harder. Tears blur your vision, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bite your own molars together, forcing yourself to go still.

And then — so does the seal.

The aggressive lashing out ceases, replaced by eerie, frozen silence. Its nostrils flare against your skin, warm breath feathering across the bite, making the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your pulse pounds between your teeth, the sting of the wound dulling under the weight of something more pressing — its eyes.

Two inky pools, round and bottomless, reflecting your fractured likeness like tiny mirrors.

"Please," you whisper, shaky, but soft. "I just want to help. You're safe. I won’t hurt you."

The grip on your arm doesn't tighten. Doesn't loosen. The only thing left between you is the weight of your words and the fragile, fragile stillness.

"Let me go," you murmur, swallowing hard. "And we’ll fix this. Okay?"

There's a pause, a single, terrifying moment suspended in time. Then, the seal's jaws relax, and he releases his painful grip on your throbbing arm, and as quickly as the assault began, it ends. Blood rushes forth in a thin rivulet down your wrist and between your fingers. It doesn't really hurt, not compared to the dull ache in the rest of your exhausted body, and the relief that washes over you is so profound that you're momentarily dizzy from it. And yet... The fact that the seal has calmed down means everything.

"It's okay, it’s okay, don't worry about it," you say hurriedly, intended for yourself more than anything so you wouldn't freak out about it. "You were scared, that's all. It's not your fault."

But the pup isn’t looking at the net.

Its gaze is locked onto your arm, the blood pooling at the wound, round, ink-dark eyes impossibly wider, focused in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You stare at him, and for a fleeting, impossible second, it feels like he understands. Like he knows what he did. Awe prickles through you, pushing aside the pain, the exhaustion, everything.

Seals are intelligent — you’ve always known that — but this is so magical to experience how emotionally aware they are.

"Hey. Hey, I’m fine, buddy," you insist. "Look at me, look. I'm good, it’s just a scratch. Let's focus on getting that net off, yeah? Can't have you swimming away in that state. You’ll drown."

As you lean in to inspect, the pup shies away initially, clearly wary and distrustful, but eventually allows you to examine the tangled mess of knots and lines ensnaring his sleek, streamlined figure. The heavy, dense debris he's wrapped in like a blanket is making it impossible to unravel anything, and the more you try to remove it, the tighter the bindings grow. Your injured arm is growing numb, which is probably not a good sign, but there's no time to dwell on that now.

Frustrated and increasingly anxious, you search frantically for something in your backpack to use as scissors or a knife, but the jerky movements make the pup tense up, its tail slapping nervously in the sand, and you have to take several calming breaths to prevent scaring him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. I'll be gentler," you promise in a rush. "Just bear with me, okay?"

All you can find is your nail clippers, but they'll have to suffice. With painstaking care, you snip away at the individual strands binding the pup's limbs together, pausing every few moments to reassure him that everything is alright, that it will survive and go back to the rookery islet. Its fur is wet and matted with blood beneath the ropes, and the sight sends a fresh surge of anger through your veins at the thought of whoever abandoned such a careless trap in the ocean.

"Almost got it, buddy, almost, you're doing great," you sniffle, working steadily to free its front flippers. They're the most delicate and prone to injuries, according to Elias. "One last cut and..."

With a soft pop, the final strand gives way and the net falls loose, the release of pressure causing the seal to scramble sideways and flop awkwardly onto his belly in a clumsy roll. It lies there motionless for a brief second before letting out a piercing, mournful wail that stabs at the pit of your stomach.

You drop your tool and fall to your knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly over its body. You don't dare touch, afraid of hurting it further. In a burst of energy, the pup pushes itself upright, body wiggling and coiling to propel it forward in a frantic dash towards the safety of the sea. You watch helplessly, unable to move or think or react in any way, until it pauses halfway to the shoreline and glances back at you, a low whine emanating from his throat.

"Go on, get out of here," you urge him, waving it onward. "Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? You've had enough close calls today." A pang of dread hits you, realizing how much danger the pup was already in and how lucky it had been that you happened to be nearby to save it from a terrible fate. But now, all you can do is let it return to its natural environment. "Be free, cutie," you say quietly. "Live well and happy. You deserve better than this."

The pup hesitates, still watching you with those soulful, inscrutable black eyes. Then, in an act that leaves you speechless, it turns and galumphs back to your side, lowering its head and nudging its muzzle against the bleeding gash on your forearm. When it pulls away, his whiskers are slick with red, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelms you.

"Oh, you angel," you manage, a lump forming in your throat. The urge to viciously pet his head is strong, but this isn’t a cat or a dog. Your arm really might get bitten off from the elbow socket. "Now scram. I'm sure your mama is worried about you."

This time, the seal does as instructed. It slides gracefully down the sandy slope and slips into the waves, vanishing from view in an instant. Only a small trail of blood remains, mingling with the foam and seawater that wash over the shore, evidence of the ordeal endured by this remarkable creature wiped away in an instant by the protective hands of the sea.

The shock of it all, of the stress and adrenaline, finally catches up to you and you collapse backwards in the sand, the pain in your arm flaring once again and only now feeling the cuts on the bottom of your feet.

Shaken to your bones in a way you can’t quite name, your fingers fumble to switch off airplane mode before you even realize what you’re doing. The moment the call connects, you’re babbling into the phone, voice thick with tears, words tangled and frantic. Mom struggles to make sense of you, but it doesn’t take long for her to find you — half an hour later, sprawled on the ground, your windbreaker haphazardly draped over your shoulders, backpack wedged beneath your head. The gash on your arm is wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, one of your old bandanas knotted tightly around the wound.

If Dad’s ferry hadn’t been stuck in the harbor, he would’ve been here too. No doubt about it.

You get an earful the moment she kneels beside you. Irresponsible. Reckless. Running off without telling anyone. Dad would’ve had a heart attack if things had gone any worse. Yes, yes, yes. You let her words wash over you, nodding at the right moments, too drained to do anything else. Her hugs and kisses make up plenty for it.

Neither of you bring up the fight. Neither of you need to. Some things are easier left unspoken.

She doesn’t mention the festival, either. But you both know what kind of rumors will be swirling by morning.

For now, you're taken to the local clinic and given a rabies and a tetanus shot, and a lecture from the nurse who treated you, warning you to never approach a wild animal again because the next time, you might not be as lucky.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds

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whimsywhomp · 2 months ago

Text

The New Guy

Chapter 1 - Mini Blurb

This really got away from me. It was only supposed to be like 2000 words max. ;-; Also Let Down + Choir by Radiohead played the entire time I wrote this so that's the headspace I was in while writing this XD

I do recommend clicking the AO3 link for this one when you finish reading. I put some end notes over there that will explain something that happens.

Summary: Wow! You bought something forever ago and never expected it to come in. It's here now though!

You only hope everyone gets along. What could go wrong introducing a new object to the chaos that is your house?

Read it on AO3 if you’d rather! :D

Ding Dong

You look up from the draft you and Lyric had been reading over, eyes wide in surprise. You didn’t have any visitors planned after all. Shooting Lyric an apologetic grin, you promise to finish this up tomorrow before taking the Dateviators off and pocketing them.

At the door, the mailman greets you with a quick smile before handing you a clipboard to sign. By his feet is a large box covered in FRAGILE stickers. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion as you sign. You don’t recall ordering anything recently. The mailman bids you a good day though and you drag the large, but surprisingly light, box inside. It’s tall and thin and only serves to confuse you further until you take a look at the shipping label.

Reading ‘coolswords4u.com’ the memory suddenly rushes into your mind. You’d made an impulse buy about a year ago. A kickass katana had seemed reasonably priced on the website and you had jumped at the opportunity to own a sword. When it hadn’t come in the next 6 months, you figured you had been scammed and promptly forgot about it.

Here it was though! Nearly a year later! Weird.

Excited now, you quickly drag the box to the living room and start opening it. When you get the box open, you’re greeted with a wooden case with a glass window on the door. Inside the case lies the katana you’d bought. At the sight of it, the question pops into your mind. Will the Dateviators transform this?

It shines in the afternoon light. There’s not a fingerprint or smudge on it. You open the case and carefully lift the sword. It's heavy enough to feel like real metal but you're no sword expert. The longer you look at it and handle it though, the more you realize why it was so reasonably priced. The blade is completely straight and the handle is wrapped in cheap satin rather than leather. When you carefully touch the edge, it feels quite dull against your skin. Another look in the box shows no certificate either.

You shrug. It’s not like you expected to get a real sword at such a cheap price.

Better than a real one though, you have a new friend in hand. Grinning ear to ear, you set it down in the case and bring your Dateviators back out. Your heart beats fast as you kneel on the carpet and shoot those oh so cool laser beams at the katana.

Where the case sits a figure pops forth in a cloud of sparkly pink smoke. You cough as you breathe it in, waving it away and out of your face. Standing there, to your surprise, is a large masculine figure. Thick black frames sit on their face while the beginnings of a beard grow along their round jaw. A red bandana is tied around their head. They’re wearing what seems to be a costume from an anime that had aired when you were younger. Something related to martial arts? You don’t quite recall. On their feet are a pair of thick white socks and pink slippers.

The figure’s glasses block their eyes as the light shines on them. They sniff and make an unpleasant face at you. Quickly you stand as they look around, crossing their arms.

Before you can say anything, they chuckle and shove their glasses further up their nose. “So this is where highly trained swordsmen are sent nowadays. Pathetic.” His voice is a bit nasally and you feel compelled to offer him a tissue.

Your eyebrows rise as his gaze returns to you. “You,” he says, “while my presence can leave one frozen in awe, keep your mouth closed.”

Your jaw snaps shut. You hadn’t even realized it had fallen open. You shake your head, clearing your surprise, and offer a hand out to him. “Uh, hi! Nice to meet you. Welcome to my home.”

He scoffs, slapping your hand away. “My true name is too powerful to be heard by mortal ears but I shall give you a less overwhelming stand in as a customary acknowledgement.” He steps back, unsheathing a real sword you hadn’t noticed until now. With it, he strikes a pose similar to one a ship captain would make in a moment of victory, sword raised high in the air until it touched the ceiling. Oh, Celia was not going to like that. Have you mentioned how large this guy is? He might be as tall as Dorian or Freddy. “You may call me… Bladen.”

Your phone beeps as the data on Bladen enters your catalog app.

You open your mouth to say something but he stops you again.

“Begone now! I must familiarize myself with this new terrain. Good day!” Aaaaand, he’s gone. In a cloud of smoke, no less.

You blink, stunned at the interaction. Bladen was certainly… spirited. You can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought of the others meeting him. You do hope everyone gets along though. You start cleaning up the cardboard mess and set the sword on the couch for now. You’re not really sure where you’re going to set it up yet. Might as well display it since it's here now though. Maybe you could ask Bladen tomorrow and see if he had a preference.

The Dateviators are out of charge for now and the sun is setting, so you whip up some dinner and head to bed, wondering about the newbie.

When you wake up, there’s an anxious energy in the air. You don’t know how to explain it but it feels like being in a room full of people about to be given bad news. The comparison makes your eyes widen as you recall Bladen.

You pluck the Dateviators off the bedside table and put them on. Before you can even try to awaken someone, Skylar is there, looking anxious and poorly hiding it behind a too wide smile.

“Hiiii! Good morning,” she says, side eyeing the bedroom door the entire time.

“G-Good morning, Skylar,” you stutter, caught off guard at her sudden presence. “Is… Is everything okay?”

She makes a face that worries you. “Welllll, it's… it’s about our new friend, Bladen. It seems he isn’t meshing with everyone very well. He’s a bit… uh…?”

“Much!” Phoenicia shouts, appearing next to Skylar, hands on her hips and a disgruntled look on her face. “In fact, he’s too much! I’ve been getting nonstop texts about him all night from everyone!”

“Everyone?” You ask nervously. You never expected one object to cause so much negativity in the house.

“Well, mostly everyone. At least a majority of the house,” she corrects, a bit more calm as she stands up straight instead of looming over you.

You rub the back of your head, frowning at the revelation. “I knew he was a bit eccentric but I didn’t think he’d have this kind of reaction. What’s he doing? He’s not… He’s not hurting anyone is he?”

Skylar quickly shook her head. “No, no. Everyone’s okay. He’s just… ruffling a lot of feathers. He’s a bit rude is all.”

“Rude in the not cute way,” Phoenicia put in. “See, us objects have an understanding. We know we all live in the house together and try to keep some peace. He,” She pointed towards the door, teeth grit as she enunciated the word, “doesn’t care about keeping any peace. We have our fights sure, but we try to keep it contained to as few others as possible. That toy sword has gone stomping through every room and declaring ownership of it. I’d swear he was trying to start a fight.”

“Can you guys… hurt each other?” You ask hesitantly.

Skylar’s face grows uncomfortable at the question. Eventually, she nods. “Yes, we can. It isn’t usually a problem though. Like Phoenicia said, we try to keep the peace. Things don’t get violent typically.”

Something like guilt is starting to grow in your chest. You hadn’t considered that you’d need to be careful of who you brought into the house. After seeing things like Nightmare and Shadowl0rd, caution had kind of been thrown to the wind.

You swallow thickly, looking up at Skylar and Phoenicia. “I’m so sorry guys. Do I need to take him out of the house?”

The question made Skylar’s eyebrows practically jump off her face.

“No!”

“Yes!”

They spoke at the same time, looking at each other in surprise.

“Girl, what-”

“Maybe he’s just having a tough time settling in,” Skylar interrupted. She fixed a smile on her face though her eyebrows seemed stuck in that pinched look. “It's a bit drastic to kick him to the curb already, isn’t it? Nothing’s actually happened yet.”

After a moment, you nod along in agreement. If it was just arguing, that did seem drastic. And… well you didn’t really know what to do with a katana if you weren’t keeping it. Throwing it away seemed like a waste and a bit… cruel? You weren’t sure how that worked.

“Let’s just give it another few days. He might just be nervous.”

Phoenicia doesn’t look convinced but Skylar’s smile is a little more real now.

“You’re the human, so we’ll do it your way, but I recommend you keep an eye on that one.” Phoenicia said before disappearing.

“Sorry to wake you up with this. I just wanted you to be aware of it in case anyone seemed… off kilter today. Go have some breakfast, I’m sure everything’s gonna be okay,” she said, seeming more sure now. She was gone then too.

You sigh when you’re alone. Gosh, you hope this doesn’t go poorly. You’d hate to judge Bladen too fast. He did have a real sword though… You shake your head. Nope! You’re going to wake up a little more before you dwell too much on this.

Jumping out of bed, you rush to put your clothes on and head downstairs, Dateviators, notably, off. Yet that tension in the air remains no matter what room you’re in. You even pop into the laundry closet just to check. You can almost hear Hoove huffing in unhappiness. You fear this is something you’re going to have to step in and handle. Maybe you should talk to Celia?

You know someone you’d like to get some input from. If Bladen is causing issues, you suspect Dorian would be the one handling them. He’s so level headed, you feel like his judgement of the situation would be best. And, well, you are friends. You feel more comfortable talking to him over the mayor of your house.

You put your plate in the sink and head over to the living room to pinpoint which Dorian would be best to speak to. Front Dorian may be the closest but he’s usually more focused on what’s going on outside. Office Dorian might be better for-

The katana is not on the couch anymore.

Okayyyy… That’s not… completely unusual. Bobby could move around. Surely the others could as well to some extent.

Still you can’t help but feel like you're in a ghost movie now. You’ve got a rouge, possibly hostile katana around here somewhere. Now you definitely want to talk to Dorian, for at least the added protection of having eyes on you.

You put the Dateviators on and rush over to office Dorian, awakening him and feeling a bit like Skylar earlier. After all, there might not be anything wrong and you don’t want Dorian to think you’re overreacting.

“You!” he shouts as soon as he pops up.

Oh great. You’ve really done it now.

“How am I supposed to do my job if you’re gonna go round letting everyone off the street in here? There’s not been this much trouble since the Breaker Box opened.”

You raise your hands in defense, though your eyes are pulled to Dorian’s unkempt hair. This must be serious if he isn’t as immaculate as usual. “Hey, I didn’t know there was going to be any problems!”

Dorian sputters and it's so completely out of character you almost let a laugh escape. “Anyone new should be vetted by me first. That sword of yours has been through every room in the house causing trouble.”

“So I’ve heard,” you grumble. Dorian quirks an eyebrow at you, making you let out a clearly fake chuckle. “Eheh, uh, I actually wanted to ask you about Bladen. Where is he? I left him on the couch but he’s gone.”

Dorian’s jaw clenches at the words. “He’s been all over. Right now…” He trails off, shutting his eyes for a moment. “...he’s in the gymnasium starting another argument.” His eyes snap open. “Aw hell, he’s starting a fight. A real one.”

“What?!” Your eyes snap up to the top of the stairs.

You start to run up there but Dorian shouts, “Wait!”

You pause, looking at him in alarm. You’ve never heard him raise his voice before.

He looks flustered as well, eyes wide and a slight flush on his cheeks. “I don’t think you should go up there. With those on, he could hurt you. Let the Dorians up there handle it.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You’re honestly touched that he cares, though maybe you shouldn’t be since he is in charge of everyone’s safety.

“I brought him here,” you say. “The least I could do is go make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Before Dorian can try to convince you, you race up the stairs. The sounds of a dispute are heard more clearly as you get closer even without activating anything. You push the door open and see the room has changed. It’s expanded, like when you went into the Breaker Box but the corners of the room are still distantly defined. The room almost looks like its turning into a dusty sparring pit. You swear you can make out the impression of trees and the sky in the furthest corner from the door. In the corner closest to the closet, one Dorian lies crumpled in a heap on the floor. If you had to guess, you’d say it was Closet Dorian. Bathroom Dorian is shuffling the other dateables out of the room though Kristof is protesting.

As soon as you find Gym Dorian in the center of the room, you watch him bring his arm up to block a hit aimed at his head from the flat of Bladen’s own katana. The hit is strong enough that Dorian grunts with the force of it, stumbling slightly to the side.

“Bladen!” you shout. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

Gym Dorian jolts at your voice, looking back at you with shock on his face. “What are you doing up here? Get out! Or take those damned glasses off!”

They’re out of charge. If you take them off now, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see what happened. You can’t do that.

You open your mouth to speak but instead a yelp comes out as Bladen strikes again, this time with the blade’s edge aimed right at Dorian’s side. It's so fast, Dorian puts his arm down to block it again, having no time to dodge out of the way. The force of the swing pushes Dorian and as he’s shoved to the side, you see a red stain on the blade.

Your eyes go wide.

How can it cut? The blade is dull!

Dorian, gripping his bleeding arm, moves to get up, face dark with anger. Bladen’s leg swipes out in a sweeping motion, catching the back of Dorian’s knee and sending him right back down in a cloud of dust. It stuns Dorian long enough for Bladen to raise the katana over his head to bring down on him.

“I am the chosen one!” He shouts, voice twisted with rage.

“No!” You shout, rushing forward and slamming your shoulder as hard into Bladen’s sternum as you can. You hear an oof from him as you manage to somewhat wind him. He’s large though and absorbs your hit even when you’d given it your all. A meaty hand grabs the back of your shirt and practically throws you across the room until you hit the far wall with a heavy thunk. What you’d tried to do, Bladen does much better. You gasp for breath, falling to your knees as your shoulder aches and the reality of the situation truly hits you. You never expected Bladen to be so strong. You never expected him to hurt you.

The thunk makes Dorian whirl around to the noise. His eyes widen as he sees you fall.

Bladen raises his katana again but Dorian is ready this time. As it comes down, Dorian rolls out of the way, hopping up to his feet quickly. He brings a fist back and decks Bladen as hard as he can in the face. Bladen cries out and stumbles back, hitting one of the large log pillars that have appeared in the dust circle. He brings a hand up to his throbbing, bleeding nose then looks up at Dorian with a furious glare. Dorian hisses in pain clutching his arm tighter since he’d had to use his cut arm for the punch. Blood is seeping from between his fingers and soaking into his sleeve.

Just as you’re getting ready to get back up and try to at least be a distraction, Bathroom Dorian returns, teeth grit and eyes burning with fury. He rushes up to Gym Dorian’s side and grabs his shoulder. His entire body glows bright for a second then disappears.

For a moment, you wonder what happened but as Gym Dorian takes his hand off his arm, you see the cut has closed some, bleeding significantly less now. Had they fused? When Bladen screams in rage, you decide it's not the time to dwell on it.

“You dare to lay a hand on me? Blademaster of the Nine Realms?” He snarls. What is he talking about? You don’t know if that’s a real thing or part of his character. In Bladen’s anger, he’s become faster. There’s no grandeur in his attacks now as he swipes his katana at Dorian again. Dorian dodges away, backing up until he’s stopping right in front of you.

“Get out of here,” he growls. “This room is unstable now.” You nod weakly though he isn’t looking at you.

Bladen pushes himself off the wall towards the two of you. Dorian reaches back and grabs your arm, shoving you out of the way as he brings the other up to brace. The impact is loud as their combined weight makes the wall groan. You’re shocked Wallace hasn’t appeared with all the damage to his coveted walls. Though maybe he isn’t aware considering how far the room has warped.

You grunt as you land in the doorway out to the hall but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Your vision focuses on the two of them. Dorian had managed to keep Bladen from crushing him entirely though his braced arms are nearly touching his face as Bladen continues to press down.

Dorian snarls, tenses up, and gives one big shove, bracing against the wall to get Bladen off him. Bladen stumbles back but recovers quickly. The katana is raised again and suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as Bladen swipes wildly. Dorian ducks and dodges as best he can but this room isn’t very big. It’s only a matter of time before Bladen gets another hit in.

Movement in the corner catches your attention though. Closet Dorian groans, shakily beginning to sit up as he clutches his head. His palm comes away red with blood. His face is pained and ever so slightly dazed. He coughs as the dust gets into his mouth. Gym Dorian is pushed into the closet door. His feet nearly trample the Dorian on the floor but he quickly ducks to the side, trying to get behind Bladen.

“Oi! Quit your fancy dancing!” He snaps, drawing Bladen’s attention away from this side of the room.

At Gym Dorian’s words, Closet Dorian manages to lift his head and sees the fighting. His efforts to get up are doubled, teeth grit as he tries to focus.

“No,” you hiss at him. He jumps, head snapping up to look at you. Pieces of his hair are falling out of their neat styling and into his eyes. Down the right side of his face is a huge smear of blood, making him squint his eye on that side. “You’ll get hurt. You’re… You’re head-”

“You… shouldn’t be… here.” Closet Dorian coughs out. He clutches his head again. “S’not… It’s not safe. Go.” His other hand braces against the wall as he stands fully.

Both of you look when Gym Dorian shouts again. He’s back on the ground. You can’t see if he’s been cut again before he brings his foot up and slams it into Bladen’s knee. As Bladen cries out, Dorian rolls to the side and gets back on his feet. His right leg gives for a second and that’s how you spot the slash just above his knee.

Bladen has his back to the two of you as he approaches Gym Dorian. He’s breathing hard now and has a noticeable limp, yet his stance looks steady. How strong is this guy? He’s a knock off sword! How can he hold his own so well against Dorian?

Closet Dorian sees the opportunity but as soon as he lets go of the wall, he nearly falls again. He growls and quickly shoves himself back to his feet, each step a little more confident than the last. You can only watch as anxiety creeps up your back. If this went poorly, would the other Dorians come? What was Bladen’s goal here?

Your breath feels caught in your throat as Bladen lunges at Gym Dorian, katana aimed at the bouncer’s weak leg. Closet Dorian had found his footing though and started to sprint. Seeing Dorian move so quickly is jarring. For a door, he’s fast. Closet Dorian closes the distance in seconds and jumps on Bladen’s back, hooking one arm around his throat and squeezing as he leans back. Gym Dorian shoots forward and reels back an arm before punching as hard as he can into Bladen’s temple.

Bladen thrashes in Dorian’s grip screeching curses and tanking the punch like a sandbag. For a moment, you fear Bladen is somehow invincible. But no, three punches from Gym Dorian and the lack of air thanks to Closet Dorian is what it takes for the katana to fall from his hand. His eyes roll up and he goes limp, putting all his weight on the still unsteady Closet Dorian.

Closet Dorian grunts as he loosens his grip, nearly going down with Bladen. Gym Dorian is there though, putting the concussed Dorian’s arm over his shoulders. Both are breathing hard and are covered in dust. With Bladen unconscious though, the room begins to shrink back down to its original state. Even the dust starts to disappear.

As it does and the three of them get closer again, you realize they need medical attention. You stand, ready to get Farya before remembering you can’t even call for her. You’re afraid even straying a foot from the room will make the Dateviators disconnect.

You stare at Bladen’s body lying on the now mostly wooden floor and feel your eyes sting. This was all your fault. And now, you can’t even get help for the two Dorian’s that look like they’re about to fall over themselves. Now isn’t the time to cry or throw your pity party though. Surely there’s something you can do to help and sobbing your eyes out isn’t going to be it.

Gym Dorian helps Closet Dorian sit down against the wall by the door. You can see much better now that Closet Dorian is barely keeping his eyes open. He blinks heavy and slow. His body keeps tilting forward yet before he falls he jerks back upright. Gym Dorian is doing his best to hide the limp he’s got. The gash on his leg is deep. You’re shocked he can walk at all but he does. He doesn’t go far though, just to the doorframe you’re still standing in.

“Hey, do us… a favor and… call Farya,” he says between heavy breaths. As he speaks, you see bedroom Dorian appear. The Dateviators are so weak though he looks more like a ghost. He nods and hurries downstairs.

There’s a bruise forming on Gym Dorian’s cheekbone, you notice as he turns to look at you.

He gently grabs your shoulder. When he speaks again his voice is soft and steady. “We’re alright, love. Take those off. You don’t need to see this anymore.”

His calm only makes you feel worse. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You give Bladen one more look and take the Dateviators off.

Immediately a headache is pounding behind your eyes. You think you recall Skylar mentioning something about the Dateviators using alternative fuel sources if the battery was strained. You wonder if that’s what this is. You push the pain aside though and turn to look at the katana laying in the middle of the room. It's sitting innocently in its case, no blood, no dust, not even a fingerprint.

Quickly you rush over and pick it up, storming down the stairs. You just barely remember to leave the Dateviators inside before walking to the sidewalk and placing the katana on the curb. You’re not sure if there’s a property line rule that keeps Bladen from returning but just in case, you make sure the case is sitting in the gutter. A car wouldn’t run it over but maybe someone else could take it. You certainly don’t want it anymore.

You manage to walk back inside, pick up the Dateviators, and climb up the stairs before one glance at the open door to the gym makes you sob. Your face crumples and your chest aches as you run into your room and collapse on your bed.

You’re so sorry. You never wanted anyone to get hurt. You’d never imagined this kind of thing would happen.

And Dorian. He hadn’t even been angry with you. You wish he had been. Maybe if he had yelled or cursed at you, some of his pain could be taken away. You’d do anything to take his pain away.

Your bones feel as if they’ve disappeared as you remain curled up in your bed, sobbing until the sun finally sets. Your eyes ache and your shoulder has finally begun to throb from hitting the wall.

You’re so tired, you don’t even notice when you fall asleep.

The next week, you avoid the Dateviators. They stay safely tucked in your bedside table with Ben-Hwa. The very thought of facing any of them, especially Dorian or Phoenicia, fills you with so much shame. Even leaving your room, knowing the eyes of everything in your home could be staring at you, feels impossible. You manage it when you need to eat though. Today you stood in front of the door to the gym. It still hangs open. You’ve been unable to bring yourself to touch it at all, much less close it. You managed to face it though and you finally apologized. Then you apologized again, raising your voice so Closet Dorian knows you’re talking to him. And you apologize to everyone else in the room who might have been scared or hurt.

And then you return to your bed. You cry again.

Another week goes by. Slowly, you eat more. You shower, comb your hair, and get dressed. Your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. The guilt feels manageable now. You think you’re ready to face them. To face the consequences of your actions. Yet, as you open that bedside drawer, your hand shakes.

You miss them. You’ve known them for such a short time but you’ve grown attached fast. If they hate you now for your recklessness, you don’t know what you’ll do. This is your home. Your sanctuary. What will you do knowing everything in it hates you?

You take a breath. You’ve hidden away for long enough. Time to face the music.

You pick up the Dateviators and slowly put them on your face. You blink as you adjust to the hue change through the lenses. You can’t help but brace, waiting for an angry face to appear and yell at you but all is quiet.

Who should you talk to first?

You already know the answer.

Standing, you make the trek to the door across from your room. You take a trembling breath and awaken Dorian. You're staring at the floor, you realize when you see his ornate leather shoes appear.

Slowly, you look up and-

There he is. No bruises, no blood. His hair is neat and tidy. His expression, though, is just as guarded as usual.

“Dorian, I-I’m so sor-”

You’re cut off as a pair of arms pull you into a solid chest. Gently, they embrace you. You stare wide eyed into the white fabric of Dorian’s shirt.

“None of that now, love.”

The soft timbre of his voice makes your throat tight. All of a sudden, your arms are hugging him back as you hiccup while trying to choke down a sob.

“I-I’m so glad you’re okay. I never- I didn’t know-”

“Hush now, everything’s alright.”

And you believe him.

#date everything #dorian #date everything dorian #date everything player character #date everything skylar #date everything oc #date everything phoenicia #fanfiction #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #date everything fanfiction

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agirlandherkinks · 2 years ago

Text

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

#hypnosis #tgtf #brain drain #breast expansion #hip expansion #ass expansion #hypnok1nk #bimboification #expansion #ally's kinks

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poisonlove · 2 years ago

Note

Do you think you can do Jenna x fem!reader where reader as just moved into the neighbourhood and Jenna’s family and readers family are really good friends and every time reader goes over Jenna’s family’s house Jenna would always make an excuse to touch reader or be next to her then it ends with some dirty amazing pussy wetting smut please 🙏

(Maybe Jenna’s younger sister aliyah ships Jenna and reader 🤭)

I tried to make it as realistic as possible, and it took me a while… but I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait.

Is Emily here? | j.o

Content Warning: Explicit Scenes, +18

I step out of the car, sighing tiredly after the long journey. The move from our beloved Italy to California, in Indio, has been a rollercoaster of emotions and the challenges of relocation. My only aspiration right now is to collapse onto the bed and close my eyes, erasing the fatigue accumulated during the trip.

"Mum! I'm bored!" exclaims my little sister, closing the car door.

I roll my eyes at her comment.

"Sweetheart, why don't you go play?" my mother says, sighing tiredly, holding a cardboard box labeled FRAGILE.

Emily, my adorable sister, smiles widely, showing the gap where her recently lost tooth used to be.

"Really?" Emily says, giggling softly, looking around with curiosity.

My eyes watch in confusion as my sister walks towards a girl playing in the driveway next to ours. The two girls exchange greetings and start playing.

"Wow... she makes friends quickly," I mutter absentmindedly, smiling to myself.

I grab a box from the trunk, and as I close it, my attention is drawn to the sound of a car parking near our driveway. A girl steps out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses and shaking her head to fix her hair.

The girl exudes an irresistibly beautiful aura. Her long dark hair gracefully falls over her shoulders, and the sunglasses accentuate her magnetic gaze. With confident steps and an intriguing smile, she approaches with an elegance that captures everyone's attention.

My jaw literally drops.

The girl walks, lowering her sunglasses, winking at me.

"Y/N," my mother calls from inside the house, wanting to get my attention. "Coming!" I shout in response, tearing my gaze away from the goddess.

"Can you call your sister?" my mother asks later as we unpack plates and glasses from the cardboard box. "She needs to help us," she mutters faintly, wiping a strand of hair from her forehead.

"She's six years old... what does she have to do?" I say rhetorically, putting the box on the floor. "Dispose of the boxes... I don't know, just call her," she says, rolling her eyes.

I go outside again and walk towards the driveway next to ours, immediately noticing Emily's absence. I furrow my brows and approach the door.

I raise my hand and knock on the wood.

"Jenna, go answer," someone inside shouts, a male voice. "Yes, Dad," the girl replies. I smile timidly, hearing footsteps approaching, and at the same time, a strange nervousness pervades me.

The door opens, and the girl I saw earlier looks at me with a charming smile on her lips. My eyes travel from top to bottom of her figure, noting her toned legs accentuated by shorts and the top revealing her midriff.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she asks timidly, leaning against the door. Although her question sounds innocent, her eyes look at me with fire.

"Is Emily here?" I ask timidly. "I saw her playing with a girl here," I say, smiling nervously, scared at the thought that my sister might not be here.

"Oh, yeah, she was playing with my little sister," she says, smiling broadly.

A dazzling smile highlighted by dimples.

"Aliyah," Jenna turns inside her house, shouting her sister's name. Small steps approach, and I smile seeing my sister in the company of Aliyah. The girls were playing with dolls.

"Emily," I say timidly. "We need to go," I say, glancing at Jenna. "No, y/n/n," the little brunette says with an adorable pout. "Can't she stay for 10 more minutes?" Aliyah innocently asks. "No, honey... maybe another time," I say, feeling guilty for ruining their afternoon play.

"You can come here tonight!" Aliyah suggests with a dazzling smile, and I blink in surprise.

At that moment, a woman approaches us.

"Actually, it wouldn't be a bad idea," the lady says. "You can ask your parents to come to dinner at our place, call it a welcome dinner," she suggests with a bright smile.

"Oh... I'll tell my mother, thank you, Mrs...," I start hesitating, not knowing what to call her. "Natalie," the lady says with a small smile.

"Well, thank you, Natalie," I smile cordially to everyone and reach out to take my sister's hand, intertwining our fingers. "Goodbye," my sister says innocently, waving to Jenna.

Jenna reciprocates with a smile on her lips.

(...)

"Everything is delicious," I exclaim with a small smile.

It's 9:00 PM, and we're at our neighbors' house: the Ortega family. Initially, my mother didn't take the invitation well, but after various pleas from Emily, we showed up at their doorstep.

"All right, dear..." Natalie says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Why don't you and Jen go upstairs to get to know each other better?" she suggests with a smile.

I smile timidly, feeling a strange nervousness in my body, and direct my attention to Jenna, who smiles while wiping her mouth with a napkin. Throughout the evening, little Ortega looked at me with curiosity and desire, brushing her foot against mine several times.

Jenna gets up from the chair and gives me a mischievous smile before going up the stairs. "Thank you for the delicious dinner," I say, smiling with embarrassment before following the brunette upstairs.

With my heart pounding, I enter the room through the partially open door. My eyes curiously scan the surrounding environment, smiling at the sight of photos and some stuffed animals on the furniture.

The door behind me closes.

I turn towards Jenna and see her walking towards me with curious sparkling eyes. Her hands rest around my neck, and she looks at me with her lower lip trapped between her teeth. "I think it's obvious that I'm interested," she says absentmindedly, stroking my neck with the tips of her fingers.

I swallow nervously.

"Mmmh," I mumble in response, and Jenna genuinely smiles. "I'll take that as a yes," the brunette leans in more but does it slowly in case I don't want her to kiss me. Not seeing any sign of refusal in my eyes, she joins our lips in a slow and passionate kiss.

My mind clouds, my protest dying in my throat, and I reciprocate this kiss.

Jenna timidly bites my lower lip, making me shiver with the intensity of the kiss. "Wait," I assert after separating our lips with a loud smack. "Doesn't it seem strange to you? We just met today," I say curiously, breathing irregularly, trying to regulate my breathing.

Jenna looks at me through her long black lashes, dilated pupils.

"Don't think about it," Jenna whispers faintly, running her hand along my jaw. "Just enjoy the moment," she murmurs in a low voice, leaning towards my neck.

I sigh loudly, feeling her open-mouthed kisses on my neck, making me shiver with pleasure. "Let go" she murmurs against my skin, timidly biting the pulse on my neck, making me moan.

I knew the situation was very strange... but while part of me wanted to run away because I didn't even know Jenna's age... the other part of me desperately wanted to take her clothes off.

My fingertips trail along the sinuous curve of Jenna's body, stopping with a gentle caress in the valley of her ass. Her lips, now pulled into a victorious smile, press against my neck with a sweetness full of desire.

Jenna pulls back, our noses millimeters apart. I could hear her ragged breathing hit my lips. My eyes gazed determinedly at her mouth, feeling excited at how perfect and soft her lips seemed to me, delicious to the touch. I leaned in further and removed this annoying distance, kissing her forcefully, almost making our teeth clash.

Jenna's hands end up under my shirt, her fingertips trying to reach inside my sweatpants.

I smile weakly into the kiss and tilt my head more, flicking my tongue over her bottom lip. Jenna shyly parted her lips and put my tongue inside her mouth, sighing immediately upon feeling hers. The brunette squeezes my hips tightly, melting into the passionate kiss.

The sensation almost makes my legs wobble, and my grip on her ass loosens momentarily. One hand slides to her hip, while the other gently rests on her cheek, breaking the passionate kiss.

we look at each other with agitated breathing, pupils showing our excitement.

"Undress" the brunette murmurs with agitated breathing.

My eyes watched mischievously as Jenna pulled her shirt over her head, ruffling her hair during the sensual gesture. I lick my lips noticing how Jenna's pants fall to the floor, kicked off and left there because they were in the way.

I took off my gray sweatshirt and took off my sweatpants, remaining in my underwear.

Jenna analyzes me from head to toe, biting her lower lip maliciously. The brunette advances and joins our lips again in a fiery kiss, making me sigh again.

Jenna guides me to her bed and I sigh as I feel the softness of the mattress under my back.

Jenna's lips move away from my mouth, focusing on my neck. The way she kissed my neck literally made me feel like I was in heaven, I couldn't believe she could make me wet for so little. "You're beautiful" she murmurs as she leaves a trail of kisses from my neck to the valley of my breasts.

Jenna bites her lower lip and takes off her bra, leaving me completely idiotic in front of the perfection of her breasts.

A blazing fire presents itself to my chest, moving down and giving itself to the bundle of nerves between my legs. I released a grunt and quickly changed positions, placing my arms on either side of her head.

“Someone is finally letting go,” she murmurs with amusement and I rolled my eyes at her comment. I leaned over and simply wrapped my lips around her nipple, immediately sighing at how soft it was.

Jenna sighs loudly.

I knew we didn't have much time and at any moment someone would come up to call me... but despite this I was excited by the idea of risking being caught in the act.

My hand deftly travels down her body, placing my fingers inside her panties, sighing at how wet she was. “You're soaked,” I say smugly and Jenna smiles genuinely, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

"I can...?" I start shyly, brushing her clit with my thumb, playing with my fingers around her entrance.

“Misery, fuck me,” Jenna murmurs in exasperation, looking at me with heavy breathing.

I smiled and put two fingers inside her, making her moan in surprise. My wetness grows as I feel how tight and welcoming her walls are around my fingers. I start to move in and out of her, trying to get used to the pleasant sensation.

Jenna hooks her arms around my neck, opening her legs wider.

“Faster,” she murmurs breathlessly, biting her lower lip trying to hold back her moans. "As you wish" I say amused. My lips rest against her neck and my hand begins to penetrate her faster and deeper, literally fucking her like a whore.

“My god,” she murmurs weakly, placing her lips around my neck and clamping her teeth against my skin to muffle the moans.

I stroke her clit with my thumb, increasing the grip of her teeth against my skin. “Fuck yes!” she groans under her breath as she rests her head against the pillow, arching her back.

My mouth opens in surprise feeling Jenna's hand inside my panties, looking for space to enter and feel my arousal. “Yes you are so wet” Jenna says as she enters me, making me sigh. I lean into her neck and moan against her skin.

"Let's come together" she moans quickly feeling that I was moving my fingers again, resuming the initial rhythm. I nod against her neck, squeezing my nose, feeling a few strands of Jenna's hair tickling me and continuing to penetrate her.

"Jen" I moan almost crying with pleasure, feeling myself reaching my climax. Jenna increases her speed and whimpers into her neck, moving her arm rapidly.

Jenna's walls tighten around my fingers.

“Shit I’m…” I blather before feeling my abdomen clench and i come. My fingers welcomed Jenna's orgasm and I tried to prolong the wave of pleasure as much as possible.

Jenna relaxed against my neck and I raised my head to look at her. Her eyes sparkled and a beautiful smile was plastered on her lips, various freckles scattered across her face and her hair disheveled on the pillow.

Footsteps are heard on the stairs.

Jenna and I look at each other with concern and immediately get out of bed, looking for the clothes scattered on the floor. When I finished putting on my shoes the bedroom door opened and I smiled nervously seeing my sister looking at us curiously. Jenna stood across the room looking at herself in the mirror.

“Y/n” Emily smiled sweetly at me “we need to go home...” she states pouting slightly.

I get out of bed and walk towards my sister, crouching down to her height "did you have fun?" I ask with a small smile on my lips. Emily nods several times "you?" she asked innocently and out of the corner of my eye I saw Jenna smile mockingly.

“Yes,” I answer honestly and Emily giggles. Jenna turns and sits on her bed, looking at me curiously.

"So you'll go back to playing Aliyah" I say and Emily smiles genuinely, eyes sparkling with happiness "really?" she says squeezing my arm. “Yes.. obviously if Jen agrees” I say with a sheepish smile and the brunette rolls her eyes at the question.

“Obviously Emily” Jenna gets up and walks towards my sister, crouching down next to me. “You will always be welcome here,” she murmurs with a bright smile. "You will play with my sister in the garden or in the living room" says the brunette sweetly.

One of her hands rests in my sister's hair "and I will play with your sister in my room" the brunette says innocently, making me blush at the clear sexual message.

Emily smiled and I shiver feeling Jenna's gaze on me, analyzing me like a predator.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #the neighbourhood

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erinwantstowrite · 5 months ago

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I bestow upon you the unfortunate atrocity that used to be a strawberry king cake. Supposedly.

Basically, my father is from Louisiana and my grandparents still live there. I grew up in Northwest US with frequent visits to Louisiana and definitely claim a lot of that culture. So naturally, I love a good king cake.

But anyway, my grandmother decides to send a king cake to me in college (also Northwest US). It took four days and came like this, because she basically just kept it in the lightweight cardboard packaging it was sold in and stuck it in a bigger box, wrapped it in butcher paper, labeled it fragile and "this side up" and shipped it 1,000+ miles.

I know she meant well and I love her for it, but when I managed to get it out of the soggy, falling-apart box, my roommates were horrified and now terrified of the concept of a king cake in general lol. Normally I'd say it's fine and eat it anyway, but we've had warm temps up here for a bit and I no longer trust that that filling tastes right, haha.

Anyway, hope your king cakes this month fare better than mine. 🫠

i audibly gasped and clutched my pearls. i think it might have been ok if she had put something to keep it stable? my mother's work gets a lot of king cakes this time of year and i've never seen THAT happen 😭 i fear you have to try and make one now to prove to your roommates that it's good. and if they say it's not, kill them. just kidding. but i'll ve very disappointed in them

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erosjournal · 10 months ago

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*checks the date* oh oct 11 already passed. in honor of national coming out day, we now have my argos 2 queer headcanons (in my au-ish)! i already posted something similar but here u go!

percy jackson

cisgender guy, but breaks gender norms/hj 💪

he/him (they/them r fine but he answers he/him when asked)

bi with a fem leaning. (i believe luke was his gay awakening. like nico and percy, yk?)

dating annabeth :)

annabeth chase

cisgender girl, but also breaks gender norms

she/her (also okay w/ they/them)

pan ! (i believe she likes people purely based on their personality and their intelligence, not on gender)

demiromantic (like how her crush on percy developed, and sorta w/ luke)

dating percy

jason grace

cis guy (he has slight internal “toxic/fragile” masculinity bc hes struggled to be the male leader people expect him to to be tho :/)

he/him

bi with a fem leaning (takes him a while to realize bc be thought he had to like girls… until percy/leo came along 👀)

either dating or crushing on leo (i say either bc u can interpret it as you please. personally, i ship valgrace so yea)

piper mclean

gender non-conforming / demigirl ! (she feels relatively feminine, genderwise not expression, but not fully)

she/they (he/him is eh, they prefer not to use he/him)

queer (mostly attracted to females, but some men slip in. she prefers queer and to not label their sexuality)

expresses their gender fluidly (some days masc, some days fem, some androgynous. she also enjoys shorter hair)

dating or crushing on reyna :)

leo valdez

masculinely gender non-conforming as well (he is mostly masculine, but doesnt think cis male is the best label for his gender. he’s not gender queer though)

he/him (they/them is fine as well, but NO she/her)

poly ! (not polyamorous 😭 basically, he’s attracted to mainly guys and girls with no preference in there)

dating or crushing on jason

hazel levesque

cis girl (even though shes cis, she is now the biggest ally in the 21st century. after learning abt it from nico, she wanted others to feel safe as she did now that there wasn’t as physical racism, idk if that makes sense but whatever)

she/her (i mean, technically they/them is fine but like, she doesn’t introduce herself with them… yk?)

straight and ace (no, shes not ace just bc shes 13-14 yall, people stay ace)

dating frank !

frank zhang

cis guy (same as jason, has a lot of internal “toxic/fragile” masculinity since he was never a super buff and leader typa guy)

he/him

straight and ace as well :)

(btw, his body never physically changes !! )

dating hazel :)

bonus !

nico di angelo

demiboy (or trans masc, or cis. there is no in between)

he/him (they/them r fine as well)

gay (idk what else to say man)

dating will

reyna avila ramirez-arellano

non-binary / gnc / gender queer (their genders more like: im not a girl, im not a guy, but other than that idgaf)

all pronouns (they/them is prefered, but they’re fine with she/her and he/him)

lesbian (into any non-men. idk wtf was going on w/ jason and… ig percy)

dresses very androgynously (lowkey always in armor anyways)

crushing doesnt feel like something reyna would do… but dating / ROMANTICALLY ADMIRING piper

(ALSO! I USE SHE/HER PRONOUNS ON MY OLD FICS FOR THEM, I WILL START USING SHE AND THEY :DD)

also guys, im not using this as an excuse to make all the pjo characters queer. this is just how i interpret and hc them in honor of coming out fay (oct 11) !!

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queenofhearts7378 · 1 year ago

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Tucker and Spud Appreciation: An essay by me apparently.

Tucker leaned back in his chair, “-and that's why we're no longer welcome at that gas station.”

Spud had a wide eyed look of wonder, “Woah man…….That takes some skill.”

“Thank you!” Tucker gestured wildly on his side of the screen. “Sam called me and Danny menaces but she's the one who brought the mace!”

Spud nodded. “It really was a team effort.” He flipped through his notebook, “Anyways how’s the progress on your side? I managed to crack into some uh, supplies and shipment invoices?”

Spud wrote down some notes, before clicking through a couple of the unlocked files on his computer, squinting at the screen.

Tucker groaned as his chair hit the ground, “Man I keep telling the guys hacking isn't like the movies make it out to be. Like yeah, if I got a back door planted I can get in and out no problem. But straight up hacking a new system?”

“The problems with being the smart ones on the team,” Spud said.

“I managed to get some payroll documents, and some employee work times I think?” Tucker blew a raspberry as he typed a few more lines of code, “All fake names. I doubt a place employs 23 different J. Doe's.”

“John, Jane, Janet, Jake, Joseph, Josie,” Spud recited.

Tucker snorted, “Yeah pretty much.”

Spud hummed before something dinged on his side, “Huh. That might be something.”

Tucker cracked his knuckles, “Share with me?”

Spud copied a few of the files before sending them over. “Hang on, I gotta check something.”

Tucker saw Spud disappear off the side of the screen, but could hear him rooting through some papers.

He looked over the information, scrolling through the various invoices. “Dude what are you seeing that I'm not? It's just the shipping invoices for a bunch of different places.”

Spud came back carrying five different notebooks, of varying sizes. “You may be better at hacking, but I'm better with the information man.”

He waved one of the notebooks, “I started helping Jake keep track of the various magic communities around, you know, to help with his duties when they kicked up.”

“Dude, that is so baller of you.”

“Heh, thanks.” He cracked open the notebook and pulled a highlighter out of a cup. He started marking the notebook as he scrolled through the files. “Anyways, I thought I recognized a couple of the areas some of the buildings were placed in annnnnnnd…..”

Spud furrowed his brow and grabbed another notebook, flipping it through it real quick. “What are some of those shipments carrying?”

Tucker started scrolling through his own files, “Uhhhh looks like…..lots of metal and rubber. Toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and a frankly concerning amount of coffee. Office supplies, like so much office supplies and-”

Tucker winced. “Oh man, and a lot of chemicals I recognize from the Fenton's lab.”

“Yeah but see this?” Spud frowned as he tapped the screen, “These shipments are labeled as various different glass equipment shipments. And it's doubled every other month or so.”

“Could be they're using a lot of the equipment.” Tucker said, “We know they're testing facilities. But you wouldn't be singling those out if that were the case.”

“It's the fact it's double shipments of glass, so the handling of them would be different from most supplies to handle the fragile equipment. And the extra shipments have different weights to them as opposed to the originals they're copying.”

“That sounds super sus.”

“Yeah. What makes it more sus is the fact that the sketchy glass shipments originate from B.U.G.S facilities, rather than outside suppliers like the office supplies and the original glass shipments. Now it could be explained as them having the shipments sent to a warehouse, before dishing it out to other nearby facilities, but there's no record or paper trail that shows that. From what I can tell, the sketchy shipments just appear in the records, before being sent out to a different facility, where it immediately disappears.”

Tucker leaned back, suddenly aware that they were stumbling over something bad. “And considering what we know about them, after the guys stumbled across that one……”

Spud stared at the files on screen, “It could just be magical artifacts. But the more likely explanation is they're catching magical creatures.”

The two of them sat in a heavy silence for a moment.

“How sure of this are you?” Tucker asked. “I mean, the magical world would notice the disappearances right? They would have got a hold of Jake or Lao Shi or someone.”

Spud shook his head and held up his notebook. “All the facilities manage to fall near a cluster of magical communities, that's what I was checking. And like I said, the shipments originate in one facility and then get shipped to a completely different one. Never the same one consecutively, and it's spaced out over years. If a bunch of creatures goes missing, yeah someone's going to notice.”

“But if just one goes missing,” Tucker continued, “It's just an unrelated tragedy.”

Spud set down his highlighter and rubbed his eyes, “And it's not impossible. The Huntsclan has managed to kidnap several magical creatures at once for years for their hunting games.”

“Ugh!” Tucker shuddered. “I do not like the implications of that.”

“Yeah, Jake got caught once. There were about four or five others with him, and they were all misfits to their species, and not well liked so most of their neighbors and families just assumed they ran off or had unfortunate accidents.”

“That's……”

“Yeah.”

Tucker stared at his computer, something twisting in his stomach as he stared at all the locked files he still hadn't managed to get into.

“We can't tell them.”

Spud snapped his head up to look at Tucker incredulously, “What?!?! We have to!”

Tucker shook his head frantically, “We can't. You know the guys as well as I do, we tell them what we found and they're going to go tackle the places right away. This is so much bigger than we thought and in so many places. They barely got out last time and that was with the element of surprise and them not knowing about what they can do.”

“It's basically the same as the GIW! You guys deal with them all the time!”

“It's not the same! The GIW have a single base, with maybe 20 guys working there! I've been tracking them and their branch since they first showed up in Amity and they don't go anywhere else. This is the only branch of the GIW. They barely manage to capture the little blobs or ectopusses, and even then those ghosts escape on their own before I even get the alert about them!”

Tucker pushed away from the desk to start pacing across his floor. “These guys have buildings across the country! That one building had about 50 people working for it and that's not even going into all their bosses. They've been operating for years without anybody catching on! And we don't know what they're capable of! They had something that blocked Danny’s powers, and we still don't know what did it. This is so much bigger than what we usually deal with. We have to wait, get some more information, get some more help-”

“Yeah, like telling everybody!” Spud yelled, “This shouldn't even be an argument, Tucker!”

Tucker stared at the floor, pulling his hat down to where Spud couldn't see his eyes. He was silent for a moment.

“......If we tell them right now, they'll get in over their heads and they'll get hurt and I can't-” Tucker's voice broke.

He took a breath, rubbing his face before looking back at Spud. “I am not sending Danny into a place where they'd turn him into a lab rat.”

“Tucker-”

“All I'm saying is we have to wait.” Tucker interrupted. “We wait, we get more info, we try and get the magical communities more wary around those areas.”

“I don't want to lie to them.”

“I know. Ancients, I know.” Tucker crossed his arms, “But we gotta be smart about this. Are you with me Spud?”

Spud let out a sigh as he slumped in his chair. “... Yeah. Yeah I'm with ya. Let the record show I hate this though.”

“You and me both.” Tucker muttered, “Anyways, plans?”

“You keep hacking into the information.” Spud said. “Send me everything you get and I'll start cross-referencing with the known magical communities when I get them. In the meantime I'll talk to Fu Dawg. He's got a ton of connections and can start spreading the word.”

“What about Lao Shi?”

“I'll talk to him, but I want some more information first.”

“You don't think he'll believe you?”

“No he will. But he'll want to take it straight to the Dragon Council.” Spud scoffed, “It's them I'm worried about.”

The two of them sat there for a moment before Spud said, “This sucks.”

Tucker started giggling, “Understatement man. But we got this. Someone has to protect those losers.”

“Heck yeah man!” Spud held up a fist to the camera, and Tucker did the same as the two of them did their virtual secret handshake.

Someone had to have the heroes’ backs after all.

#hey remember that adjl episode where jake got kidnapped and trafficked with other magical creatures #and then they were all hunted for sport?#cause i do and i think about it often #anyways tucker and spud appreciation post #this is me going off i guess #being under government surveillance #they are worse than you thought :)#danny phantom #secret quartet #queen will write #american dragon jake long #tucker foley #adjl spud #arthur p spudinkski

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limpwristssavelives · 7 months ago

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one of the things that stuck out to me in the newsreader was how much chemistry dale had with both helen and tim

i feel like in a lot of male centered bi love triangles the woman isn’t very likeable or interesting or doesn’t have as much chemistry with the lead

from what i’ve seen most male centered bi love triangles usually involve a man in a relationship with a woman who then cheats on her with another man and we inherently pity the woman or view her as being in the way of this mlm ship and i think there’s usually a bias in the writing or the fandom for who the protagonist should be with from the start (whether it’s the man or the woman)

but in dale and helen’s relationship it blossomed over multiple episodes of them hanging out and getting to know each other and only then turning romantic and sexual whereas dale and tim have a sexual yearning for one another but haven’t gotten to really know each other yet they each have such different relationships and attractions to each other which i think is really interesting to explore

helen is lonely and wants companionship she’s mentally ill and needs someone to care about her and be there for her when she’s in an emotionally fragile she has no relationship with her family cuz they put her in a mental institution when she was young and takes pills to cope with her mental instability and the pressures of her career/work environment (her boss probably gave her the addiction in the first place) dale is lonely too his (presumably) last relationship ended with him being arrested and labeled a pervert he is very caring and wants to help others so his relationship with helen makes perfect sense why they click and he also wants to be a newsreader which is what helen does best so they form this partnership of helping each other which ends up going into romantic/sexual territory

we don’t know a lot about tim other than he’s kind and playful doesn’t hide the fact that he’s gay and he has liked dale from the beginning and he treats dale very kindly even tho dale was rejecting their attraction and even quit his job when he could tell that helen knew and was in distress over their affair he also went to dales house to make sure he was okay and asked about his past being someone dale can talk about his sexuality and the only person who can really see dale for all that he is without fear of judgement

i think dale has also liked tim from the beginning (whether he consciously knew it or not) but pushed it down to pursue a career and relationship with helen he has been repressing his sexuality since he was in high school and i think he kind of woke up when helen referred to tim as “gay tim” he wanted tim to confirm that he was gay and confirmed their attraction when they kissed in the bar which (due to his past trauma) made dale panic and hate himself promising it would never happen again after his talk with tim about his past he says that he’ll choose his career over being who he is but when he finally talks with helen and explains himself he is met with acceptance

at the end of season 1 we don’t know if helen and dale will continue their romantic relationship or just be friends/colleagues i also thought it was really interesting that in an interview someone said that dales sexuality is ambiguous and in another interview said that dale and helen’s relationship was intentionally portrayed as towing the line of platonic and romantic

season 2 is going to be so interesting to see where they go with both relationships and how dale handles his career and sexuality

#i wrote this a while back after watching season 1 #idk why i never posted it i probably just forgot but i was going through my drafts and here it is #ik the show is going into season 3 rn but i still haven’t seen season 2 because it’s still not available in the US :(#so please no spoilers or at least keep them vague🙏#the newsreader #dale jennings #helen norville #tim ahern #text post #bisexual #bisexuality #the newsreader spoilers #the newsreader s1 #my post

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filmmakerdreamst · 11 months ago

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"The heart of the show isn't Austin and Ally's romance, its their partnership. Whether they ended up together or not in the end, it wouldn't change the fact that they have a unique bond. Thats why theres so many ups and downs, it’s not to tease the fans or even to give fanservice. The affection they hold for eachother grows to become uncomparable to any other of their relationships (friends, family or romantic). That's why they have a hard time figuring out what label to give themselves. The beauty of this ship is how real and sincere they are. They care MORE about their friendship than anything else. The romance they (and most of us) were taught is way too superficial or fragile for the bond they have, and the plot is them realising that this precious bond they share is what love truly is. They never once stopped having feelings for eachother, even while dating other people. The feelings they had for other people never dimmed down the feelings they had for eachother, because it just was growing more and more with every friendly casual moments they shared. It's a no brainer that they would repress and block off those feelings to the point of being in denial until they hurt other people and annoy us with their sudden explosions of repressed feelings. That is what we expect out of a slow burn. It's easy to get distracted by the TONES of filler superficial comedy, but the real heart of the show is the preciousness of sincere frienship and partnership in romance. It's a kids show, but when you’re able to take a step back and separate what’s meant as a joke and what’s meant to be remembered, you realise how much this story stands out from other kids shows, and could have translated so well as a regular tv-show." - @yllilzneb185

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haleswallows · 1 year ago

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A wee gift for @little-dreams-of-life based on a prompt from the HxH server. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Timothy Drake is home alone. The Drake Manor is big and quiet around him. He fills it with noise.

This isn’t new or exciting. Tim is home alone a lot. What is new is the crate a FedEx employee insisted on carrying inside when Tim answered the door. The guy asks for an adult to sign for the package, but Tim just stares at him. Tim signs for the thing.

There’s a worried glance tossed in his direction as the courier leaves. But Tim shrugs it off like all the others and closes the door, then does up the locks and security system like he was shown.

Tim is home alone and he goes back to his homework without a second thought to the crate. He fills the quiet house with his own noise. When he needs a break, he skateboards down the hallways. The skate park is better, and Tim thinks about checking the weather report to see if it’ll be nice enough to go after school tomorrow.

Tonight is supposed to be clear. Probably a good night for birdwatching.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, one foot on the floor and the other on the deck, idly kicking it forwards and back. There’s a school field trip soon. Tim won’t be going – there’s no one home to sign his permission slip. If anything, he realizes, it’d be a great day to spend at the park. Even though he really wants to go on the field trip too. There’s nothing to be done about it. He resolves to make the day as good as it can be despite the loneliness that sits like gargoyle on his chest.

The crate sits innocently in the Entrance Hall. Tim peers down at it from the top of the stairs. He purposefully lets his DCs slap loudly on the hardwood of the steps as he gallops down.

There’s no note on the outside. Tim crouches down to look it over, but most of the markings are just shipping labels like “FRAGILE” and “THIS WAY UP – DO NOT TURN”. He doesn’t recognize the consignor address. Last he knew, Jack and Janet Drake were in Cambodia and the crate is from Ireland. But he is familiar with his mother’s handwriting on the Customs manifest in the outside pouch, so at least he can assume it hasn’t been shipped to Drake Manor as a type of postal assault.

The top is nailed down and Tim thinks of the hammer in the groundskeeper’s shed. It takes him only moments to find, but takes almost an hour to prise it open. He’s sweating and annoyed when he finally slides the top off.

Anti-climatically, he’s greeted with packing peanuts.

Rooting around in the offending Styrofoam unearths a folded note – also written in his mother’s hand. The note is definitely not addressed to Tim, so he sets it aside then continues digging. Tim slowly unearths his parents’ newest relic collectibles, like his very own archeological dig. It’s all the same-old-same-old, old stuff and whatever his parents think is worthy of purchasing. Ceremonial relics, cultural artifacts, ceramic vases and bowls and small votives. There’s one odd wood carving that looks like something he’d have to make in art class.

Nestled in the bottom of a crate is a small wooden box, polished to a gleaming deep brown. The brass hardware stands out against the dark burnish. Tim turns it over in his hands and admires it, appreciating the way it fits neatly in his palm. It’s quite high quality, even Tim can see that. But of course, the box is only an accessory to its contents. There was a fleeting consideration to shake it, but Tim stamped down on the urge. Afterall, whatever was inside was an antique, if not ancient.

Tim puzzles over the small metal figurine inside. The purple velvet lining makes the pewter look like silver. But Tim has no clue what the shape is or what it represents. He squints at it in the waning afternoon light of the hall. The pronged circle attached to a wide rectangle vaguely resembles an ancient depiction of a human, if humans had horns. Or maybe the circle is a torso and the prongs artistic rendition of limbs? The prong is flared, almost like it has a crown.

There's a leather throng looped through the head. Tim thinks it's ugly and wonders what type of person would wear it. Sometimes Mother wore the ancient jewelry they collected, but this wasn't to her usual taste. Thus there must be something culturally important about it.

A mystery. Tim likes those. He likes solving things, he likes worrying his mind over pieces that don't fit until they do. Afterall, it's how he figured out Batman’s and both Robins’ identities and started birdwatching.

He pushes to his feet and jogs up the stairs. The computer in his dad's office has an internet connection. No one ever notices Tim using it. The housekeeper won't be around until tomorrow when he's at school. She won't suspect a thing as long as he turns it off and doesn't make a mess.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Tim trips over his abandoned skateboard. In the moment between losing his balance and hitting the ground, Tim thinks “oh crap” and prepares mentally for impact. Tim is no stranger to the fickle ways of gravity. You don't learn to skateboard without becoming the proud owner of scars and bruises. Tim automatically outstretches his hands to catch his fall

The strange pendant, still clutched in his hand, catches the soft meaty flesh of his palm. Tim hisses in pain, knee smarting. Gathers himself to sit cross legged and kicks the skateboard, annoyed at himself. He carefully uncurls his fingers, then gulps at the large gash on his hand.

Oh god, Tim thinks while blinking at the deep cut. That definitely needs stitches. Oh shit, who can he call to get stitches? Who can take him? Tim glances around himself as if expecting someone to appear, to come running at the sound of his fall, to coo over his cut.

A cold feeling fills his belly. Stupid. Tim knows there's no one there to help. But still he looked. Stupid.

Blood drips onto his jeans. He needs to get up, find a first aid kit. Skating is going to suck like this. He blinks back tears.

The light in the hallways shifts, darkens. It's getting late. He really needs to get up. With a sigh, Tim scolds himself then pushes to his feet, hurt hand cradled to his chest. But as he stands, the light continues to ebb away, darkness swirling around him. Tim freezes. The air pressure shifts and Tim shivers in the sudden chill.

“I am Fright Knight, Lord of Fear and the Spirit of All Hallows's Eve. Who dares summon me?” a voice rumbles, echoes, rings through the hallways, deep and haughty. Tim whirls towards it, hands halfway to covering his ears.

And nearly trips again on his skateboard. A man in a pure black suit of armor, glowing a menacing green, floats half a foot over the ground. Tim can't see the man's face as he towers over him, but the green glowing eyes bore into him.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” Tim snaps. Ok, dumb move probably. But what else is Tim going to do? He's twelve and home alone.

The suit of armor tilts its head. Oh right, duh, Tim. It answered that.

“Right, Fright Knight, summoned. Was it this?” He shows the knight his hand and thoroughly bloodied pendant. They both stare at his hand. A quiet plip-plip of blood dripping onto the floor accentuates the quiet.

“Where are your guardians?”

“Not home.” Tim isn’t an idiot. He knows better than to tell people his parents are out of the country. Or that he’s home alone.

“When will they return home?”

Tim stares at the floating suit of armor for a long time. There’s an impression it is squinting at him. He shrugs.

Plip-plip goes his hand.

(Remainder of the fic on ao3!)

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #tim drake #fright knight #my writing

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