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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

Pattinson

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!reader

Synopsis: Tom gets jealous when you reveal your celebrity crush on Robert Pattinson

Masterlist

“Okay I saw these on Tik Tok and I had to get them for you.” Zendaya grinned as she slid a small black box towards you.

“What is it?” You eyed her skeptically as you accepted the box.

“Just open it and look.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together.

“No.” You gasped as you opened the box. “Team Edward underwear?”

You picked up a pair of lacy black paintings and held them out in front of you. The phrase “Team Edward” was stitched in bold white letters right over the crotch.

“Oh my God.” You burst into laughter. “What are these?”

“They’re just panties.” She said innocently. “I thought you’d like them.”

“I do but I cannot wear this around Tom.” You laughed and set them down. “He’ll think I’m insane.”

“Them wear them when he’s away.” She shrugged.

“I cannot believe you bought these.” You shook your head at her. “Or that someone made them. Or that I want to wear them more than anything.”

“See?” She smiled proudly. “I knew you’d like them.”

“I do.” You admitted. “But Tom can never know they exist.”

You put the panties away in your drawer that night and forgot about them. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when you were a guest on the Graham Norton show that your love of Twilight was brought up once again.

“Now, Y/n, I hear you’re a big Twilight fan.” Graham began.

“Yup. Last time I checked.” You nodded, purposefully quoting Jacob Black.

“Are you really?” Graham giggled.

“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen those movies.” You shook your head. “Especially the first one. Everyone few months I just sit down and shot gun the series.”

“Were you Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

“Team Edward all the way.” You said immediately. “This is so embarrassing, but I used to leave my window open when I was in middle school so Edward could come in.”

“That’s some dedication.” Graham laughed. “Did he ever come?”

“No. He never did.” You pouted. “13 year old me was really disappointed.”

“I hear you even got a tattoo.” Graham raised his eyebrows, making you hide your face in shame.

“I do.” You laughed behind your hand. “I got too drunk halfway through Eclipse and got a tattoo.”

“You have to show us.” Graham insisted.

“Okay but don’t laugh.” You laughed in defeat and rolled up your sleeve. You held your arm out to the camera, showing off your tattoo that read “Robert Pattinson” in tiny letters on your arm. The audience and Graham laughed at the randomness at the tattoo as your face heated in embarrassment.

“Look at this, it’s not even Twilight related”. Graham laughed. “It’s just Roberts name.”

“I wanted to get to the point.” You shrugged, earning some laughs.

“Why this font?” He wondered as he stared at the tattoo.

“It’s helvetica.” You deadpanned, making Graham cover his face with his cards as he laughed.

“It looks like you’ve just typed this out on the computer.” He pointed out.

“I was drunk.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “And it felt right in the moment.”

“You’ve never met Robert, right?” Graham asked. “You haven’t showed this to him?”

“No, I’ve never met him”. You sighed dramatically. “And he will never see this tattoo.”

“Well then you better cover it up.” Graham said as he looked behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, Robert Pattinson.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked behind Graham as Robert Pattinson came out from back stage. He was in a navy suit, looking as beautiful as ever as he walked towards the couch.

“Oh My God.” You covered your face with your hands as the audience became deafening. You could hear Robert and Graham greeting each other over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Slowly, you took your face away from your hands and sheepishly looked up.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rob.” Robert smiled as he looked down at you.

“Hi.” You smiled weakly as you stood up. Robert shook your hand and kissed your cheek to say hello, making you die on the spot. You let go of him and sat down on the couch, never taking your eyes off Robert.

“This is…” Graham gestured to you a few times, reminding you to say your name.

“Y/n. Sorry.” You blinked a few times. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m a big fan.”

“Are you?” Robert asked as he sat down. “You a Twilight fan?”

“No, I haven’t seen it.” You lied as you collected yourself.

“You just said-“

“I love all your other movies though.” You cut Graham off. “I really admire your work. Your acting is phenomenal.”

“Thank you.” Robert smiled at you. “I’ve seen some of your work as well. I’m always very impressed.”

“Are you?” You squeaked.

“I am.” Robert chuckled. “You’re very talented. I hope we get to work together someday.”

“I’m surprised you two haven’t met before.” Graham cut in. “Y/n, Rob was in a movie with your boyfriend, wasn’t he?”

“With my what?” You asked as you stared starstuck at Robert.

“Your boyfriend.” Graham repeated as the audience laughed. “Tom Holland?”

“Right.” You laughed awkwardly as you continued to stare at Robert. “Him.”

“Yeah, we were in a movie together a few years ago.” Robert answered. “And we’re going to start filming another one soon. It’s called the Devil All The Time.”

“Right.” You remembered. “He told me about it. I was so jealous that he’s getting to work with you for a second time.”

“I’m sure you and I will share the screen one day. Playing lovers, perhaps.” Robert joked as he nudged you.

“Perhaps.” You squeaked.

“We’re gonna cut to commercial.” Graham announced. “More with Robert Pattinson and Y/n L/n after the break.”

After the interview, you ran back to your dressing room with a huge smile. You had not stopped smiling since Robert had walked out on stage. You walked into your dressing room and saw Tom sitting on your couch, making you let out a squeal.

“Ahh! Did you see me?” You gushed. “Did you see me with Edward?”

“Edward?” He chuckled as he hugged you. “You mean Robert Pattinson?”

“Yeah. Him.” You clapped your hands. “He shook my hand and kissed my cheek. I almost passed out. I’m in love with him.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan.” Tom laughed awkwardly as you danced around the room.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been in love with that man for over ten years now. I’m never washing my hand again.” You held out the hand he shook. “Or my face. God, he’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen him.” Toms smile slowly faded. “We worked together, you know.”

“I know. You’re so lucky.” You sighed. “Did you hear him saw he wanted us to play lovers in a movie? Can you imagine if that actually happens?”

“No.” Tom said flatly. Before you could notice his indifference, someone knocked at your soon.

“Op. Someones at the door.” You said as you twisted the handle. You opened the door to reveal Robert leaning against your doorframe, knocking the air out of your chest.

“Hello again.” Robert smiled at you.

“Rob!” You stammered in surprise. “Hi.”

“Nice to see you again, Tom.” Robert said as he looked behind you. “How you been, mate?”

“I’ve been good. You?” Tom asked as he stood beside you. He wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders, not liking how fond you were of his former costar.

“Can’t complain.” Robert shrugged. “I’m excited to start filming though. I’ve been working on the accent but I’m not sure I’ve gotten it yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” You told him. “You’ve done great accents before.”

“Thank you.” He winked at you. “You should come to visit us once we start filming. I’d love to see you again.”

“Of course.” You nodded repeatedly. “I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Robert grinned. “I’ll let you guys get back to it. Bye.”

“Bye.” You enthusiastically waved to him.

“Oh, and Y/n?” Robert said before walking away.

“Yes?” You asked hopefully.

“Close your windows.” He joked, calling back to your story from before. You felt your face heat up and gave him an embarrassed smile before nodding.

“I will.” You told him. Robert firmly squeezed your shoulder before walking away. As soon as you shut the door, you let out a scream and jumped up and down.

“Did you hear that?” You asked Tom. “We have an inside joke. Edward Cullen and I have an inside joke.”

“You do know his name is Rob, right?” Tom said, less than amused. “Not Edward.”

“He’s Edward to me.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’ve never been this close to getting a vampire boyfriend. Ah, I’m so happy.”

“You already have a boyfriend.” Tom reminded you as he slumped on your couch. First he had to watch you and Robert fawn over each other on Graham’s couch, and now you wouldn’t stop talking about him. Tom was more than jealous at this point and it was starting to get to him.

“I know.” You chuckled as you sat beside Tom and laid your head on his shoulder. “And I love you. Even if you’re not a vampire.”

“Wow. Even if?” He chuckled sarcastically as he wrapped an arm around you. You leaned up to kiss him, making him feel better. You may be a fan of Robert, but Tom was the one you were kissing.

As promised, Tom brought you with him to the set of The Devil All The Time. He left you in his trailer early in the morning when he left to film, but you were nowhere to be found by the time he returned at the end of the day. Tom pouted when he found his trailer empty and went for a walk around the set to try and find you. When you didn’t turn up in any of the places he checked, he returned to his trailer in defeat.

“Darling?” Tom asked as he walked into his trailer. “Are you in here?”

“Where the hell you been, loca?” You asked as you threw your arms around Tom.

“What?” Tom laughed as he hugged you back, just happy to have found you.

“It was a Twilight reference.” You explained before kissing him hello. “I’ve been trying so hard not to make them around Edward all day.”

“You’ve been with Rob all day?” Tom pulled away, his mood dropping quickly.

“Uh huh.” You nodded in excitement. “I was helping him run lines in his trailer. Can you believe he asked me to help him?”

“Good for you.” Tom grumbled as he flopped down on his couch.

“What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed Toms tone.

“Do you have feelings for this guy or something?” Tom asked. “Cause it’s starting to seem like you’d rather be with Rob.”

“What?” You laughed. “Tommy, don’t be silly. Of course I don’t have feelings for Rob.”

“Really?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “Because you’ve spent all days running lines with him instead of me, your boyfriend. When he’s around, he’s all you talk about Y/n. And I remember you saying you were in love with him multiple times.”

“I’m not in love with him, silly.” You insisted as you took a seat on his lap. “I’m in love with Edward Cullen. He was my comfort character growing up. I didn’t have a lot of friends in school, so I read books. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend a gorgeous vampire was willing to risk the Volturi to be with you.”

“The what?” Tom asked.

“It’s like the Vampire Supreme Court.” You replied.

“The what?” Tom repeated.

“Oh, right. British.” You remembered. “They’re just the most powerful vampire coven, okay? They make all the rules. You’d know them if you saw them. It’s Charlie Seen and that bitch from Cat in the Hat.”

“What does this have to do you liking Rob?” Tom whined.

“Right, sorry.” You waved your hand in dismissal. “I don’t have feelings for Rob. I don’t even know him. I’m just projecting the character I loved growing up onto the actor who played him. You’re telling me you didn’t geek out the first time you met RDJ?”

“I did.” Tom admitted.

“Exactly. He was your childhood hero and Edward was mine. That’s all this is.” You smiled and patted his cheek. “Nothing to worry about, Tommy.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Tom pouted and rubbed your back. “I shouldn’t have accused you of anything.”

“It’s okay. I can see why you got a little jealous. I have been talking about him a lot.” You admitted. “But I promise you, when I look at him, all I see is Edward. Just straight up baseball uniforms and spider monkies.”

“What the hell goes on in those movies?” Tom mumbled under his breath.

“Well, the last two are pretty much an abortion debate.” You began. “But they’re also about Bella being willing to die for that vampire dick.”

“In a vampire movie?” Tom wondered.

“Yeah. But the first one is a baseball movie.” You told him.

“What the fuck?” He whispered.

“You’d understand it if you saw them.” You shrugged.

“I don’t think I would.” He said skeptically.

“I also don’t think you would.” You realized. “But you’d finally understand why I call you my “monkey man” sometimes.”

“That’s a Twilight reference?” He gasped.

“Yeah. A lot of things I say are Twilight references.” You chuckled.

“Well if my darling loves them that much, I might have to give them a chance.” Tom smiled as he leaned in to kiss him.

“Mmm.” You hummed against his lips. “You wanna watch 10 hours of Twilight with me?”

“Absolutely not.” Tom laughed against your mouth. He slowly laid you down on the couch as he hovered on top of you, never break the kiss. The kiss got more heated as you gripped his shirt while his hands slid down to your pants. As his hangs found your zipper, you realized something terrifying.

“Oh no.” You gulped.

“Whats wrong?” Tom wondered as he pulled away.

“Um...” you gulped and looked down at your lap. “You’re not gonna want to do that.”

“Why?” Tom raised an eyebrow, eyes darting down to your zipper skeptically.

“Daya sent me underwear a while ago.” You began. “Um, special underwear.”

“Did she?” Tom smirked as he tugged the zipper down.

“Not that kind of special.” You quickly moved his hand. “It um, it has a slogan on it.”

“Okay?” Tom said slowly.

“You’re not gonna like it.” You told him, only making his curiosity grow. Tom looked at you curiously before tugging your pants down. You covered your face with your hands as he gasped in horror.

“Team Edward?” He yelled. “Your underwear says Team Edward?”

“It was all I had!” You protested as you tugged your pants back up.

“You’re telling me you happened to be wearing these the day you come to visit Rob on set?” Tom pointed an accusing finger at you.

“What are you implying?” You asked as you swatted his hand away. Tom ran his hands through his hair and gave it a stressful tug. He didn’t want to take his insecurity out on you, but the underwear had crossed a line.

“Did you think something was gonna happen between you guys?” He mumbled without looking at you.

“What?” You laughed in shock. “Do you seriously think I woke up this morning and thought “hm, might fuck Robert Pattinson today. Let me make sure I put on my underwear that references a character of his from ten years ago!””

“I don’t know!” He whined. “I can’t believe you’re wearing those.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” You laughed as he stormed out of the room. “Tommy, come back.”

“Why are you laughing?” He pouted, face still red from jealousy.

“Because you’re upset over my underwear.” You tried to hold back your laughter. “You know, you could solve this problem by taking them off.”

“No.” He stamped his foot. “You don’t want me. You want you Edgar Curtain and his killer vampire penis.”

“It’s Edward Cullen.” You corrected. “And yes, I do want that.”

“Oh my God.” Tom rubbed his face, making you laugh again.

“Edward would never treat me this way.” You teased. “He would have sex with me and then get scared that he hurt me so he just plays chess with me the rest of our honeymoon.”

“Would he now?” Tom seethed.

“Tommy, please calm down.” You chuckled as you cupped his face. “It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that I was wearing these. I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about. You’re the only one I want.”

“Really?” He asked skeptically as you stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“What can I say?” You smirked. “I’m Team Tom.”

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foli-vora · 3 years

Text

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

Tags: @anu-simps

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #benny miller x reader #benny miller #triple frontier #pedro pascal x reader

698 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Each Word Gets Lost In The Echo PT. 1

Roy Harper x Batbrother!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I had way too much fun with this but PT. 2 is going to be angsty and y'all are gonna hate me for it. >:) Enjoy! -Thorne

********************************************************************************

So, are you planning on getting us together soon?

He hummed in response, pulling out the pan and spatula. “I dunno. With Gutierrez’s wife giving birth, I want Esmeralda to have some time with her daughter before we pull out again. I know her Samantha wants her home.”

Understood, but…what’s happening in Syria…it’s not going to get better on its own.

“I know it won’t, Nadeen. But until we get a mission from somebody overseas, we can’t exactly go out.” He pulled a few eggs from the refrigerator, cracking them on the rim of the pan, watching the yellow yolks fall in. “Besides, it’s the first week of a three-month leave.” He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re already bored.”

Are you kidding me? Um and Ab have grounded me from flying. I’m stuck here, (Y/N).

“How is your family by the way? Wasn’t your sister attending the Cairo University?” he asked.

Yeah, and Um is so proud of her.

(Y/N) chuckled, whisking the eggs in the pan. “Someone’s jealous.”

Well, I can’t exactly tell my parents I work for an illegal black ops squad. Kinda puts dampers in relationships.

“Nadeen, we’re not an illegal squad. We’re government sanctioned.”

The fuck we are. They just don’t bother us because they know they can’t kill us all.

Grabbing the pepper, he ground some into the pan. “Jesus, take a vacation, Nadeen. Go to France or something.”

Fuck France. I’ll go to Saint Petersburg first. Oh shit, speaking of SP, have you spoken to Vitsina yet?

(Y/N) frowned, setting down the pepper grinder. “Why? Is something wrong?”

What? No. I was just wondering if you had. She really needs to get a hobby. Hey, maybe I can get her and Walker to come hang out with me at home.

“You’re not going to get Walker out of his flat, Nadeen. You know how he is when he gets on leave.”

And what about Nakamoto?

“You know they’re both paranoid. Remember to—” something clanged down the hallway and he stopped, mid-sentence, going silent.

Hello? (Y/N)? Captain, you alright?

He frowned and turned off the stove, opening a drawer at the far end of the counter. Pulling out the Glock, he cocked it and murmured, “Asghar, lemme call you back.”

Ten-four, Captain. Be careful.

The line went dead, and he crept to the edge of the doorway and paused, inhaling sharply before he peeked around the corner, gun ready. Nothing. (Y/N)’s frown only deepened as he moved down the hallway, quiet and breathless. He got to the first room in the hall, his study and he shifted against the wall, listening for movement. When he heard nothing, he moved slightly, gun pointed into the door as he swept the room. Empty.

Exhaling deeply, he started to move when he heard the noise again and he peeked out the door to his bedroom. There. (Y/N) crept along the wall again until he was at the doorway and he leaned against the frame, listening carefully. Something was in there. Something or someone, he didn’t know what, but he did know.

(Y/N) waited until the noise got closer then turned the doorway and moved in. Someone’s hand shot out, grabbing the gun and he grunted, throwing up his elbow into their jaw. The intruder cried and with their free hand, grabbed (Y/N)’s shirt and yanked; they went tumbling to the ground, the gun falling away, but he didn’t waste his chance, scrambling atop the stranger as he went for the Strider he had in his back pocket.

He flicked it out and brought it down when the person beneath him grabbed it with one hand, the other ripping off the hood he wore. “(Y/N)! It’s me!”

“Roy?”

The archer sighed and went slack beneath him. “God, yes, it’s me!”

(Y/N) relaxed and tossed the knife to the side, hanging his head down. “Jesus Fuck Roy, I thought you were an assassin.”

“Get those often?” he shot back and (Y/N) glowered at him.

“Yeah, I do actually.” He rolled off Roy and got to his feet, holding out his hand for him to take.

“God, remind me not to sneak up on you again.” He let himself be tugged up and rubbed his jaw. “I thought you dislocated my jaw for a second.”

(Y/N) shoved a finger in his face. “You’re lucky you managed to grab the gun because I almost shot your ass.” He bent down and picked up his Glock and knife, putting the latter back in his pocket after he’d flicked it shut. “Are you some kind of idiot? Why the fuck didn’t you just knock on the door? What possibly justified sneaking into a mercenary’s bedroom through the window?”

Roy shrugged. “I thought you weren’t home yet.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then shut it and nodded. “Alright, that’s actually not a terrible excuse.” Sighing, he shoved past Roy and walked down the hall into the kitchen, the archer following him. “But don’t do it again.”

“Why? Worried you were gonna shoot your boyfriend?” Roy teased, wrapping his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah, I was.” He put the gun back in the drawer and lugged the archer towards the stove where he flicked the burner back on. “Next time just text me and ask if I’m home.”

Roy hummed, pressing a kiss just above the mercenary’s collar. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well,surprise me you did,” (Y/N) griped. “I seriously thought I was about to have a firefight in my own damn apartment.” He paused, seeming to remember something and said, “I live in a penthouse.” Glancing at Roy, he questioned, “How the fuck did you get up here?”

“I’ve got skills, babe,” Roy grinned, waggling his brows and (Y/N) rolled his eyes before tapping the Bluetooth headset at his ear.

“Call Nadeen.” It pinged for a few moments.

Captain, you’re back. Everything good?

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Roy was in the apartment.”

You live in a penthouse? How’d he get up there?

“His ‘skills’ apparently.”

Nice. He still going around with your brother?

(Y/N) nodded forgetting she wasn’t in front of him and reclined into Roy as the eggs started cooking. “Yeah. Got a new gig as Red Hood and Arsenal.”

Roy blinked. “Wait, does your squad know…about you know…”

He waved and (Y/N) completed, “That my family and friends are vigilantes? Yeah. Why?”

“Isn’t that a breach of security?”

He snorted. “You act like my squad is friends with every government in the world, baby.” He shook his head. “I trust my team with everything. And in return they trust me with theirs.”

Aww, Captain you do care.

“Does your dad know that they know?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Probably. But he doesn’t tell me how to live my life and I don’t tell him how to live his.” He scrambled the eggs. “Nadeen, go hang out with Vitsina for a week or two if you’re really that bored.”

She’s back in Russia right now, isn’t she?

“I think so. Said she had a loose end to tie up with Antonovich.”

Oh shit, she’s gonna fucking kill that guy. She might need air support then.

“Hence why I said go hang out with her.”

Wanna come along? You could bring your boy-toy?

“Did she just call me a boy-toy?” Roy blurted. “Excuse you, I am not a boy-toy. I am a boy-man.”

Well, from the pictures Captain’s showed us, you are in fact a boy-toy, Roy.

He blinked and looked at (Y/N). “What pictures did you show them?”

“Nothing,” he coughed. “Nadeen, shut up.”

The ones with the red lace and matching heels.

“You didn’t.” Roy breathed. “You showed them the pin-up photos?!”

(Y/N)’s mouth fell open and closed as he vaguely gestured around. “I didn’t directly show them. Nakamoto hacked my phone like the nosy asshole he is and found ‘em.”

“So that means you still showed them because you apparently didn’t stop them from seeing!”

Oh, look at that, Captain, Ab is calling me. Talk later!

She hung up on him and (Y/N) huffed a laugh, pulling the device from his ear. He set it aside and shrugged out of Roy’s arms, pulling two plates out of the cabinet beside them. He plated the food, smirking at the flush across Roy’s cheeks. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, baby?”

“You showed my nudes to your black ops squad. It’s hot. Ridiculously hot. But also embarrassing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, they were very impressed with them.”

Roy tried and failed horribly to hide the grin coming over his lips. “…They were?”

(Y/N) set down the plates and got up in Roy’s personal space and flirted, “Oh absolutely baby. They were so stunned at how pretty you looked all dolled up in that red teddy, your lips painted crimson.” He gripped Roy’s hips and pulled them flush together, and while Roy was about five-eleven, (Y/N) had a couple inches on him. He smirked when he felt the definition in Roy’s jeans. “Wanna know what my favorite picture is?”

Roy swallowed thickly, one hand coming to grab at the island behind him, the other grabbing (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Which—which one?”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of the archer’s jaw, trailing his lips to his ear where he breathed, “The one where you’re bent down on the bed…” he reached up behind Roy’s back and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Your ass is up in the air and...”

“Uh huh, what else?” Roy begged, hips canting forward.

“God, you’ve got that pretty red flush across your cheeks.” (Y/N) whispered. “You looked incredibly ravishing.” He breathed in Roy’s ear. “We were on that mission in Kazakhstan for two whole months and all I could think about was getting back home and drilling you into the mattress until you couldn’t walk.”

“(Y/N)…” the archer groaned shamelessly. “Babe, please.”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to Roy’s cheek. “I didn’t show them that one though,” he said, pulling away without a second thought, picking up the plates. “I kept that one to myself. It’s still in my wallet if you wanna go check. I look at it a lot.”

(Y/N) wandered towards the living room and plopped down on the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table. He snorted when he heard Roy’s moan of frustration followed by the man stomping into the living room with the other plate in his hand, the free one adjusting the front of his jeans.

“I hate you.” He scowled, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I hate you so fucking much it’s not funny.”

(Y/N) shrugged and picked up the remote, switching the channels until he found a football game to watch. “You snuck into my penthouse and almost made me shoot you point blank.” He shot Roy a grin. “I guess we’re both doing things to each other we don’t like.”

“I thought you weren’t home!”

“Mhm. Punishment is still a punishment, baby.” He turned up the volume and dug into his eggs. “Jason know you’re in Gotham City?”

Roy swallowed the food in his mouth, answering, “Told him I was in the area.”

“You know he’s gonna wanna see you.” (Y/N) replied. “If not to hang out, to make sure you’re not into trouble.”

“Are you saying I’m trouble, babe?” Roy retorted and he chuckled.

“You’re my kind of trouble.”

The archer went silent, and his cheeks flushed. “…That was a low blow.”

(Y/N) winked. “Uh huh.” His side vibrated and he reached down, pulling his phone out.

“Who is it?” Roy asked.

“Alfred.” He slid his thumb along the bottom and put it to his ear. “Hello, you’ve reached the answering machine of your favorite grandson. How may I assist you today, grandpa?”

You’re absolutely hysterical, Master (Y/N). You should go into comedy.

“I would but it doesn’t pay that well unlike merc missions.”

Hmm…how are you today, Master (Y/N)?

He smiled. “Not too bad Alfie. Could’ve eaten a perfect parfait with fresh fruit and granola, but beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

You did miss an excellent breakfast if I do say so myself. Nevertheless, it is Sunday morning. Shall I expect you later tonight for dinner?

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Alfie.” (Y/N) agreed.

Wonderful. I shall set out an extra plate in case you decide to invite Master Harper. Have a good day. Until tonight, sir.

The line clicked and (Y/N) pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it in confusion. “Babe? What’s wrong?” Roy questioned.

He shook his head. “Alfred knew you were here.”

“What? He did?”

He looked up at Roy. “Yeah…said he was going to set out an extra plate for you tonight at dinner in case you wanted to come.”

“I get to come to the Wayne Family Sunday Night Dinner? Really?” he seemed awfully excited.

“Dude, it’s just dinner.”

“That you guys do every Sunday night and don’t allow anybody to tread on,” Roy retorted with a glare. “This is special.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you that eager to be introduced to the family?” he dodged the pillow Roy threw at him. “But…if you wanna come, you’re free to.”

“Really?” Roy doubted. “You want me to come over? I thought you wanted to keep this quiet?”

He sighed and pulled his legs from the table, setting the plate on it. “It’s not that I want it to stay a secret. It’s just…I worry about it.”

Roy set his plate down on the coffee table and scooted close. “What about?”

“I don’t know, Roy. I’m just worried that the more people that know about us the more danger I put you in.”

“Babe…” Roy started, placing a hand on the other side of (Y/N)’s cheek so he could turn his face to the archer’s. “We both live dangerous lives. There’s always going to be danger surrounding us.”

“I know,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning into Roy’s hand. “I still worry though. About you…about us.” He met those evergreen eyes. “I’m just worried that every time I leave, it’s going to be the last time we see each other.”

Roy chuckled. “Afraid I’m going to get offed?”

“No,” he murmured, turning his lips into Roy’s palm. “That I will.”

The archer gaped at him. “(Y/N)…why haven’t you told me about this?”

“Because I’m a super soldier who was trained to keep my emotions under control by an anal retentive, over glorified kitchen scale of a father.” (Y/N) deadpanned, then heaved an even bigger sigh and rested his forehead against Roy’s shoulder. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Yeah, Jaybird keeps me pretty busy with missions.”

He chuckled. “Gonna have to tell my little brother to let my boyfriend have a break.”

“Break smeak.” Roy quipped, pressing a kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Listen to me, you’re a strong man, (Y/N). You’re probably the best out of your family. Smart and skilled off the charts.” He ran his calloused fingers down his lover’s neck. “If anyone is going to get out alive on a mission, it’ll always be you. Always.”

He sighed, turning his nose into Roy’s neck as he whispered. “You think so?”

Roy smiled, gripping his chin lightly to pull his head up. “I don’t think so, babe. I know so.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s. “I love you,” he murmured against the soldier’s lips. “So much.”

(Y/N) hummed and pressed a hand to Roy’s chest, shoving him backwards onto the couch and he crawled atop him. “I love you more,” he replied and pulled his shirt off his body before pressing his hand to Roy’s chest, except the archer hissed and he let up. “What’s wrong?” he worried, and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Roy.” He warned, cocking a brow. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, pressing the same spot again.

“Ow! Stop that!” Roy grunted. “It’s tender.”

“What’s tender?” (Y/N) inquired and Roy sighed.

“I got a new tattoo.”

He narrowed his eyes and gazed down at him. “Of?”

“Nothing.” The archer muttered, though pink was coming across his cheeks and he sighed.

“C’mon Roy. Talk or I’ll tease it out of you.” He shot him a glare. “And you know I will.”

They stared one another down for a minute then Roy sighed and pulled his shirt off and (Y/N) peeled away the bandage. His eyes went wide when he saw the silver spartan helmet atop the black shield, the gold lettering underneath.

“Is this…”

“Your squad designation?” Roy offered. “Yeah…thought it seemed right.”

(Y/N) traced the raised flesh, eyes flashing to Roy’s when he shivered from the calloused touch. “I can’t believe you got my squads symbol tattooed on your chest.”

“You don’t like it?” he sounded hurt.

“I love it,” (Y/N) huffed, gesturing to his own tattoo on his ribs. “We match now…though you forgot to put your name inside the shield.”

“Well, I’m not technically a Spectre, (Y/N).” Roy said.

“Maybe not, but that’s still where your name goes.” He retorted and smiled. “It’s awesome, baby.”

Roy’s thumb brushed his hipbone. “So does the tattoo get me out of punishment for sneaking in?”

(Y/N) smirked down at him. “It just might.” He reached down and tugged the front of Roy’s pants. “Why don’t you show me how sorry you are for it? I just might decide to forgive you before subjecting you to dinner with my family.”

A multitude of emotions flashed through Roy’s eyes. Arousal, desire, need, and then surprise. “Oh shit, I forgot about dinner.”

“Seriously?” (Y/N) blinked, unsurprised. “God you’re such a man.” He crawled out of Roy’s lap much to the archer’s dismay and groaning.

“Where are you going?”

He paused and looked back at him. “I’m not fucking you on my couch, Roy.” He started towards his bedroom. “Hurry up or I’ll start without you.”

Roy rolled off the couch and to his feet as fast as he could.

132 notes · View notes

shelobussy · 3 years

Note

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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ironlime · 3 years

Text

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

#the glorious 25th of may #night watch #discworld #sam vimes #gnu terry pratchett #fanfiction #john keel #terry pratchett #writing

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pyrrhiccomedy · 3 years

Text

the People have requested my book report on The Library at Mt. Char so this is now a Mt Char book club.

if you have not read The Library at Mt Char there is no reason to keep reading. I hope you're having a nice day, stay safe and don't do drugs.

So Mt Char has a couple of problems, but in my opinion only one grave problem.

Not a grave problem:

Erwin doesn't need to be in this book. An astonishing amount of ink is spilled on giving us Erwin's POV and I am at a loss in regards to what that's supposed to bring to the story. I mean, it's kind of neat to see Carolyn's "trick shot" from the POV of one of the people being manipulated, but that perspective could have just been provided by Steve. Everything Erwin does of any plot significance could have been done by Steve, a character who actually matters.

Please note that I don't hate Erwin, he's perfectly fine as characters go, he just contributes nothing, and it is baffling that he and Carolyn get the last scene in the book (instead of just ending on her reunion with Michael, a scene that was emotionally affecting and felt like a natural end point to her story). We are taking no questions, Erwin needed to be cut.

Also not a grave problem in my opinion, but I am sure others feel differently and I understand why they would:

Yo, the scope of what the catalogs cover is mad vague. I mean, I get that that's the point: when you have a character whose magic powers are "anything that has to do with death or murder," that's a broad license, and I'm fine with that. These are supposed to be demi-gods. I don't require a rigorously explicated magic system.

But then like...why can't Jennifer, the healer, also heal minds? That seems weird. Or like, it's implied that she kinda can, maybe, but none of the kids talk about their therapy sessions with Jennifer: they explicitly call out that she heals their bodies. But then she talks about how Margaret and David are sick (meaning mentally) in a way she can "no longer help?" Aren't you supposed to be the God Of Healing? Why can't you help anymore? And were you actually trying to help them before - or anyone else? That's never shown. You could have just said you only healed bodies, not minds, but then it's repeatedly implied that she CAN diagnose mental and emotional problems (and therefore should probably be able to do something about them).

So that's weird.

Or like, why is there Alicia, who "sees the future," and Rachel, who "sees possible futures?" That, uh, just sounds like the author was running out of ideas. Also, if Alicia could see the future, she probably shouldn't have been in that house when the SWAT team hit, yeah?

Stuff like that. The magic the kids can do is very "they have the powers the author needs them to have when the author needs them to have them, and they can't do anything the author would find inconvenient for them to do" but that's not a deal breaker for me because overall the vibe being put off by their various magical specialties works for me. Still, there were ways of getting us where we needed to go without begging quite so many questions.

Also not a grave problem, although more of a problem than the other stuff:

You know that anime trope where a super-genius character is having an entire conversation with another super-genius character through a screen, and it's revealed that the whole conversation was a distraction and pre-recorded so that Character 2 could Complete His Scheme against Character 1? And used his super-genius brain to predict every single thing Character 1 would say? And your suspension of disbelief staggers bloodied into the alleyway and collapses because you're really trying to hang in there, Code Geass, but that's fucking stupid, you're asking for me to believe that this character's intelligence is flat-out supernatural now and you've given me no reason why that should be?

That's how I feel about Carolyn, by the time she takes over the Library. Like, okay. The kids canonically have not even been at the Library long enough for any of them to master their catalogues except for Jennifer. None of them but Jennifer are masters of even their own subject.

Carolyn has been studying in secret from multiple catalogues - which is cool! I like how she slowly reveals over the course of the latter half of the book that she has powers from other people's specialties.

...But like...

She seems close to mastering her own catalogue. She is a competent healer and can raise the dead (Jennifer's catalogue). She can block attempts to read her mind, beats David in a fight, and understands how to kill Father (David's catalogue). She speaks lion and controls the dogs that surround the Library (Michael's catalogue). She could make the mathy "Denial That Rends" thing that kicks off the whole plot, and she can make a new sun and correct orbital rotations around it (Peter's catalogue). She can predict the future with such specificity that she knows how to cause Steve to drop a clip of bullets while he's being attacked by dogs exactly where Erwin will need to pick it up later (Rachel's catalogue, also this one is stupid, she could have just given Erwin an extra clip or something, but whatever).

That's half the catalogues. Carolyn doesn't seem prodigiously more intelligent than the other kids. She's smart, sure, but they're all weird demi-gods with a genius for their specialties. The rest of them haven't even mastered their own catalogue, and I'm supposed to swallow that Carolyn has attained 'competent or better' status in six? When she has to research five of them in secret? Without falling behind in her own studies?

It would be fine if they had all been masters of their own catalogues for years and years; that would mean they would begin to stagnate, while Carolyn kept learning. But that's not the case. By the end I wasn't impressed anymore at Carolyn's resourcefulness, it just felt like she could do anything and everything, shh, don't ask questions, she's the Chosen One so she just can.

The reason this isn't a grave problem to me is because Carolyn's journey isn't about becoming more powerful: it's about her emotional journey, which isn't affected by her being stupidly OP for no reason by the end of the book. She still sucked at the things that mattered, like "feelings" and "relationships" and "not being a shitty person." But I do think it hurt the story. I should be cheering on my protagonist when her wild schemes come together, not rolling my eyes.

Anyway. All that was the aperitif. Let's talk about

THE GRAVE AND GLARING PROBLEM AT THE CENTER OF MT CHAR.

So everything that happens in the book stems from Carolyn's thoroughly justified hatred of Father (and David, but David was made that way by Father). Father treated her, and all of the other kids, with extravagant cruelty. If you haven't read the book in a while, here's a sample of the kinds of things Father did to the kids, or, if David did them, that Father did nothing to prevent:

- Cooked David alive over 2 full days in a giant bronze bull (and made the rest of the kids bring the fuel)

- Put Michael's eyes out with a hot poker every night for 2 weeks (and made the rest of the kids watch)

- Murdered Margaret every few days, often in drawn-out and painful ways

- Made Rachel repeatedly give birth, raise the babies to about 9 months, then murder them with her own hands

- Allowed David to rape all 11 of the other kids (except Jennifer, probably because she was the healer and he wanted to stay on her good side)

- Allowed David to crucify, brutalize and rape Carolyn and Peter

- Gave Carolyn a loving new family for a year when she was nine years old (those two deer), then had David murder them in front of her and blame it on her for not remembering her homework well enough, then served the two deer at a feast to 'celebrate' her returning to the family

- Whippings, skinnings, and bone-breakings as standard disciplinary actions

Whoo-ee! Okay! We are talking about mythological cruelty. I am fine with this! The story takes place on a mythological scale. As outlandish as all of that is, the cruelty feels proportionate in a story about killing and replacing god. Father is cruel, indifferent, controlling, and alien. I have no questions, Carolyn please proceed with your revenge. We seemed on track for a tale in which Carolyn defeats Father, but in doing so she runs the risk of becoming him. Will she step back from the brink and retain her humanity after all of the trauma and brutality she's endured? Let's find out!

And then

and then.

Oh boy.

And then.

...It turns out, Father is a good guy after all.

And let me be clear: THIS IS NOT, IN AND OF ITSELF, A PROBLEM.

By the time you learn that Father is actually benevolent, and loved those kids, and cares about being a responsible steward to the world, and tried to leave the universe a better place than he found it, and genuinely regretted the suffering he inflicted on them when they were growing up, it feels kind of...natural? Like, I was surprised, but also not, because there were 90 pages of book left and Carolyn had already become god. This seemed like a thematically meaningful place to take the rest of the story.

It turns out Father was training Carolyn to replace him the entire time. He had to make her hate David because it was important that she "defeat a monster" on her path to becoming god. (It's not explained why she had to defeat a monster, but sure, okay; it's the kind of mythic feat that fits with the story we're in.)

Why did he choose Carolyn to be his successor? Well, originally he chose David, but David wasn't strong enough: every time Carolyn was the monster in David's story, she defeated him, and went on to rule the universe as an unspeakable tyrant. Since Carolyn always won, Father swapped their roles. He knew he had made the right choice when he put David into the bronze bull, and heard David begging for mercy: because when Carolyn had been the fated monster, she had never begged.

...Okay, so...hang on.

Hang on.

The only rule that we've established on "how to become god" is "you have to defeat a monster," right? I'll even grant you for free that it has to be a monster who is personally meaningful to you, although that part is never stated. Overcoming a great evil which has cast you down and abused you many times before, sure, okay.

...Why the FUCK did all that other awful shit have to happen??

I did not have this question when Father was just evil! That was a good enough explanation! But now that he's not evil, you HAVE TO EXPLAIN why he treated all of the kids so brutally!

Like dude you're GOD. If you need a monster for Carolyn, I'm sure you can make that happen without TORTURING CHILDREN FOR DECADES.

There didn't even need to be any other children! You could have two kids: the languages-kid, who is the chosen one (the chosen one has to be the languages-kid so they can read the Onyx Codex or whatever it was called at the end, the one written by Original God), and the war-and-murder kid, who is the monster. They could have just been forbidden to read the other codices, if it's important to you that your chosen one still prove her resourcefulness or whatever.

Why include all of the other kids??? It wasn't to give your chosen one a sense of family: Carolyn didn't feel close to any of them except for Michael (who I liked, but whose contribution to the plot was negligible).

Or keep the kids! But then why make them, and Carolyn, hate you?? You could just say, "Hey Carolyn, I am raising you to be my successor, you have to figure it out yourself because part of proving your worthiness is this kind of abstract, big-picture thinking, but I love you and whatever you end up deciding to do, just believe in yourself." And meanwhile you're off torturing the fated monster in order to get him piping hot and ready to be served.

Was the idea that Carolyn had to endure so much horror in order to prove she was 'tough enough' to be god?? Because that's not how trauma works! Kids who have been brutally traumatized are usually not made tougher by the experience! A fact that even the book understands, because 10 of the 12 kids are completely destroyed by their upbringing (I'm giving marginal exceptions to Michael and Carolyn herself).

And like

if Father doesn't have a good reason for having treated them so badly, the whole book falls apart!

Because getting revenge for that cruelty is Carolyn's whole motivation!

We are clearly supposed to feel okay about Father going to make a new universe at the end of the book: he's going with his cool tiger friend and that little girl with the connection to the elemental plane of joy who used to be the sun, he's happy to see Carolyn embracing compassion and kindness, which means he cares about compassion and kindness. He invented light and pleasure. Carolyn does nothing to try to stop him from going. He seems like a pretty good candidate for god. And I do feel okay with him leaving! I was convinced! Father is not evil after all!

But then you have! to explain! the abuse!!

It can be a throwaway line!! "Carolyn realized that everything she and her siblings went through had to happen the way it did, because [X]," embedded in the middle of a paragraph! That would have been enough! But I need an explanation!

"They were raised the way Father was raised himself" WHY? He was raised by the Emperor, an on-the-record awful fucking dude! Father proceeded to rule the universe in a far more benevolent way than the Emperor did, why would he feel like he had to raise his kids the way the Emperor raised him?

"Carolyn needed to overcome challenges on her path to godhood" how is TRAUMATIZING HER SO BADLY SHE ALMOST BECOMES INHUMAN - SOMETHING YOU WERE OSTENSIBLY TRYING TO PREVENT, see Steve being preserved as something that could give her hope, etc - A "CHALLENGE??"

Again, none of this is a problem if Father is just evil! YOU CHOSE to make him not evil! And that's fine!! I think it's a good choice for the story actually!! But then you have to, you have to, HAVE TO explain why all of that bad shit happened!

Because all of that bad shit is the reason Carolyn made there be a story.

And it turns out it doesn't make sense.

#the library at mount char

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mammons-sugarbaby · 4 years

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The bros reading MC’s diary Part II: Romantic!

Lucifer ⦁ He'd started giving MC piano lessons after their RAD classes, they'd requested it and he wasn't going to pass up a chance to show off his talents. ⦁ After MC leaves he notices they forgot their things, namely a few schoolbooks and notebooks ⦁ He also notices when he gathers them up that one notebook seems different than the others and opens it to see what it is ⦁ It's a daily journal of their time in the devildom ⦁ He flips through a few more pages and lands on a page that, to his surprise, is about him ⦁ He goes to the beginning and sees where it becomes less about general happenings and more about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Lucifer agreed to teach me how to play the piano! I've already been practicing a little so he would be impressed at how quickly I learned. I feel bad for lying but... It's a chance to be close to him, to get him to notice me. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate with him right next to me, and when our hands brush against each other...It take everything in me to keep my composure!"

⦁ "I'm so excited! Lucifer is taking me to Restaurant Six tomorrow! He says it's to reward me for my hard work, both for my RAD classes, and how well I've done in our piano lessons! My heart was beating so fast when he asked if I would like to go. I'm going to go shopping later for an outfit to wear, it has to be something special! I know it's just a treat but....I'm just going to pretend we're on a date."

⦁ "I'm so embarrassed! I was waiting for Lucifer in the music room and I started daydreaming about us sitting next to each other. Lucifer turned to me and our eyes met and I confessed my feelings and....then he leaned in and kissed me! So I was shocked when Lucifer was right in front of me suddenly asking if I was okay. For a second I thought the kiss had actually happened...But he just said we had better start lessons...and I was too nervous through the whole thing I kept messing up...I think I irritated him because he said that I I obviously wasn't able to pay attention and that continuing would be a waste of time..."

His Reaction ⦁ He had been surprised at how quickly MC had learned and suspected they knew more than they let on, and though he wanted to be mad or disappointed about the lying, he was actually impressed with the lengths they went to get his attention. He made a mental note to be more....attentive during their next lesson.

⦁ Lucifer recalled his shock at how well MC had dressed for the occasion, he hadn't expected them to go all out. At the time he felt a little guilty for not putting more effort in his attire, but seeing how MC stared at him and how they blushed when he looked at them or complimented them, he doubted they cared. He would ask them again when he had some free time, this time he would specify that this time was more of a...romantic occasion.

⦁ He recalled that day well, he had entered the music room and saw MC staring at nothing, a hint of a blush on their face. It had taken a few moments for him to get their attention, and now their reaction when they snapped out of it made sense. He felt bad now because he had snapped at them, but he would make it up to them in the future. He looked forward to teasing them, and....he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about kissing them at times.

Mammon ⦁ He was looking through MC's stuff to sell for quick grim ⦁ Finds an intricate looking book, it's looks expensive ⦁ He opens it and notices its a scrapbook ⦁ He soon realizes that there a lot of cut outs and pictures of him ⦁ And there are full pages of writing ⦁ Of course he's going to read about what they have to say about him, The Great Mammon!

Diary Content ⦁ "Managed to sneak in another magazine that featured Mammon without anyone noticing, I'd be so embarrassed if anyone found this book. I feel like a kid with a crush drawing hearts all over everything but...it's fun, and it's not like anyone is actually going to see. I'm almost embarrassed at all the times I've written about confessing to him."

⦁ "He makes my heart stop sometimes I swear, every time he looks at me, my mouth goes dry and I feel like I can't breath for a minute. He's just so damn hot. And he's funny too! And even when he's hyped up about another plan to make quick grim, even if it makes absolutely no damn sense, I can't help but nod along and want his plan to succeed."

⦁ "I know it's dumb but I just want to march over to him one day and demand to know how he feels about me. Sometimes he acts all flustered around me and his face looks like he's blushing, but then he says something that dismisses everything and just...crushes me a little. Today we were hanging out and one of his brothers teased him about being around me all the time and he told them it wasn't like he wanted to, he was just helping me with classwork. Which he was, and poorly at that, but it hurt a lot, I had to get out of there before he saw me cry. He apologized later but....he just gives off such mixed signals...I wish he'd just say how he actually felt."

His Reaction ⦁ He's floored, he had absolutely no idea they felt this way. At most he just thought they were a fan of his. But they were right, they had written what seemed like a hundred different ways of confessing their feelings to him. He felt his get hotter and hotter with each page he read.

⦁ He had just figured MC was kinda shy and was supportive towards everyone. He even thought they were fake laughing at his dumb jokes to make him feel better, especially since everyone usually groaned and said his joke was stupid. But the fact that they actually found him attractive and funny? He wanted to run to MC and wrap them in a bear hug.

⦁ Mammon hadn't realized he'd been hurting MC all this time, making them feel like he was stringing them along. He just got so embarrassed and didn't want anyone know how he felt about MC. He already got so much shit from his brothers, teasing him about falling for the human wasn't appealing. But he'd take their teasing over continuing to hurt MC this way. He couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings outright, but he wouldn't deny them anymore.

Levi ⦁ He'd gone into MC's room to retrieve some games and manga he'd lent them ⦁ He saw a pile of books near a neat stack of games and assumed they'd left it on their desk for him. ⦁ It wasn't until he got back to his room and was organizing them that he realized he grabbed a book that wasn't his. ⦁ He opened it then quickly shut it after realizing it was their diary. ⦁ He argued with himself to read or not to read, but he saw his name! ⦁ Deciding, he opened the diary again, he just had to know what they were writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "Hung out with Levi in his room today. He was watching a new show, as usual, and I asked if I could join him. He said sure, but there wasn't a whole lot of space to sit, so I tried clearing away a few things so I could sit beside him without being too close. But I guess I was still nervous being so close to him because I kept fidgeting and bouncing my legs. Eventually he got annoyed and grabbed my legs and put them in his lap!! I was so shocked my brain felt like it short circuited."

⦁ "While I was playing co-op mode with Levi tonight, he got in a rough spot and I ended up saving him. You would have thought I'd saved his actual life! He threw his arms around me and told me I was the best player-2 ever!! My heart was pounding, he usually wasn't so...hands on? I'm probably weird for thinking about it, but I imagined him kissing my cheek."

⦁ "Every day I feel like it gets harder and harder to be around Levi, I get so....tongue tied! And my heart feels like its beating a thousand times a minute! My face gets so hot and i feel like I can't even look at him or I'll confess on the spot! I haven't been hanging out with him as much because....I really like him but I'm sure that he'd think having a 'normie' crush on him would be lame and gross. And he seems so down lately I just want to cheer him up and see him smile again! Maybe I can give him head pats to cheer him up? It would give me an excuse to touch him at least..."

His Reaction ⦁ He remembered that night, mainly because when he had realized what he'd done, he got so embarrassed. MC had been really quiet and would barely look at him, of course they'd be disgusted by a gross otaku like him...

⦁ His brain had to take a moment to process the last sentence. They wanted him to....KISS them??? He hadn't thought about it when he had hugged them because he was so happy, but afterwards he couldn't stop thinking about it, how he wanted to wrap his arms around them again, to hold them..

⦁ So THAT'S why they had been avoiding him!! He thought after the previous two events, they were grossed out by him but....they liked him?? Like liked him?? He honestly couldn't wrap his head around it, he wanted to think it was some trick but....this was MC's diary, why would they lie about something that was only meant for their eyes?? MC liked him....as more that a friend....He couldn't get them out of his head for the rest of the day.

Satan ⦁ MC returned some books he'd lent them ⦁ While putting them away, Satan realized they'd accidentally given him one of their books ⦁ They'd already left though, he opened it to see what the book was about ⦁ It was a thick journal and he realized it was specifically a diary ⦁ And the page he'd opened to was about him ⦁ Intrigued, he sat down and flipped to the first page.

Diary Content ⦁ "Satan offered me a few books today that he enjoyed and suggested we start reading together so we could talk about them. I pointed out he's a much faster reader and he said we could limit it to a few chapters a week. He's so considerate and I really would love to share something like that with him! I know he gets a bad rep for being the avatar of wrath but he's surprisingly gentle most of the time. And I like a lot of the books he reads, so we have that in common. And if there's something I liked but he didn't personally find interesting, he still talks with me about it in detail and lets me be excited. Usually people ould just brush me off because they didn't care."

⦁ "I went to Satan's room earlier to hang out but he was so engrossed in reading I don't think he noticed me come in. I just found a spot to sit and started playing on my d.d.d, but I couldn't help but get distracted by him. I love watching his facial expressions while he reads, if he's around others his face gives nothing away, but when he's alone, or with me, that mask falls. He finally noticed me when I giggled at his shocked expression and seemed embarrassed, but I told him it was something on my phone. I would hate for him to put that mask up around me, I like seeing him openly himself."

⦁ "Today I almost pulled a huge pile of books on myself by accident. I didn't realize when I was trying to get a book from the top shelf that there were books piled on top of it! Luckily Satan was there to catch it before it fell and warned me to be careful. But when he stepped in to stop the books, he'd grabbed my shoulder and pulled me against him, like he was trying to shield me. Then when the books had steadied, he turned me around and asked if I was okay. The look of concern on his face...I can tell he cares about me. I know he didn't mean anything by it, but I swear my heart fluttered for the rest of the evening. I know I liked him before that but...is it cliche to say I think I fell in love? Maybe not that serious but....I definitely have strong feelings for him."

His Reaction ⦁ He was touched at MC's words, he already felt like they were a kindred spirit, but this really made him feel even more drawn to them. He loved being able to talk about a story with them; and realized soon after they had arrived and started reading together that they weren't as fast a reader, which made sense he'd been reading for much longer than they had been alive. He knew how it felt to be dismissed, and even if he didn't find a particular book to his liking, hearing MC's thoughts and feelings on it somehow made him see it in a different light.

⦁ He hadn't realized he let his guard down around MC so much, it almost made him embarrassed to know they had seen him make all sorts of silly faces, but reading that they enjoyed him being comfortable around them made him smile. He did trust them, more than he realized. And it didn't appear that they were aware that they too, made silly faces while reading. But they didn't hide it when they were around everyone else, in fact the only time he'd see them have a blank expression while reading, was when they were reading something erotic. He laughed because when he asked what they were reading to make their face so intense, they immediately turned red and they got embarrassed.

⦁ He remembered that day, how he saw the books teetering on the edge, that sharp worried feeling, and the way they felt against him when he pulled them back. He was able to stop the books from falling, but he was actually prepared to shield them with his body. And seeing their face, wide-eyed and a light blush across their cheeks, he was surprised at the restraint he had; because right then he had wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss them. But he didn't think that they held the same feelings for him and didn't want to make them uncomfortable. But now he knew they felt they same way, and reading about them falling in love, even jokingly, left him smiling for the rest of the day.

Asmo ⦁ He went into MC's room to show off some new beauty products he'd bought ⦁ They weren't in their room, so he texted them, they replied they'd be there shortly ⦁ he takes a seat on their bed and notices a notebook on their nightstand ⦁ He opens it and sees it's their diary ⦁ And more importantly, they're writing about him

Diary Content ⦁ "I almost managed to flirt back at Asmo with a straight face today. Almost. He's too good! Whenever I do manage to flirt back, the next thing he says leaves me a stuttering mess...I know he flirts with everyone so of course he's going to be amazing at it, but I wish I could fluster him at least once! I think he would look really cute being a blushing mess."

⦁ "It's hard not to take him seriously with the things he says sometimes. It's too easy to read into things. I know he's just teasing me and he doesn't mean the things he says, but sometimes....like today, we were sitting next to each other and he just! Put his arms around me! And said I was one of the cutest humans he'd ever seen!! He's seen thousands of humans, I don't see how I could possibly compare. I even said so and he took my face in his hands and had this really serious look on his face. He told me I shouldn't be so critical of myself and he knows cute when he sees cute! Then he told me we need to have a self care day soon."

⦁ "Asmo!!!! Kissed my cheek!!! Then whispered in my ear!!! All he said was "See you later~" but!!! I swear I couldn't speak for a solid 10 minutes. I sat there and daydreamed about kissing him back, and wrapping my arms around him, and holding hands, and going on cute dates, and all that during class! I missed everything!! And there's a test coming up.....The boy is going to be the death of me, especially if I fail this test and Lucifer finds out....Still...as pathetic as it might be to actually have a crush on the avatar of lust, knowing full well he doesn't feel the same way, it's just how he acts...I might just tell him how I feel so he can shoot me down and I can get over this silly little crush."

His Reaction ⦁ He loved when MC tried to flirt with him, loved seeing their face and seeing them try so hard to act unphased. There was a time or two when they actually had said something that caught him off-guard and made him blush, but he's well practiced at hiding his feelings.

⦁ He remembered that day! MC was wearing such a cute outfit and looked absolutely stunning, he couldn't help himself! And then when they put themself down it made his stomach drop. He couldn't believe they actually tried to compare themself. He wanted to go on a who lecture about how everyone has something about them that shines and they shouldn't compare themself, but them again he technically compared them to all the other humans he'd seen....He still meant what he said though, yes physically they were cute, but they sounded cute, acted cute, just....everything about them he found endearing. Even when they were angry, or sad, he thought the were one of the most attractive beings he'd laid eyes on. It threw him off when he thought about it too much, so he did what he did best and deflected, and pushed those thoughts and feelings down. But he couldn't just let them continue to think that they couldn't compare! So he suggested a self care day to try and lift their spirits.

⦁ Oh honey....he wasn't joking. More and more he found himself being serious when he flirted and asked after them. After a while he realized he was pursuing them, it was shocking because usually he was the one being pursued. He had figured MC had developed a crush on him, who wouldn't?? But it made him feel strange because he reciprocated their feelings. He started to plan to ask them on a date under the guise of studying, since they were...distracted during class. He didn't want them to get punished if the failed a test. Lucifer would blame him and tell him he wasn't allowed MC. He wouldn't follow the rules of course, but it would be a pain to try and sneak around to see MC. His thoughts wandered and he imagined kissing MC, something he'd done plenty of times before, but this time it made him blush and he felt giddy and nervous.

Beel ⦁ To be fair, MC told him he could borrow their study notes, but didn't tell him where in their room they left the notebook ⦁ He sees what he assumes is the notebook on their bed and grabs it and heads to his room ⦁ Once he gets settled, he opens it and reads half the page before it clicks that these are definitely not study notes ⦁ This is their diary, and they were writing about him ⦁ He shuts it so fast, super embarrassed, but he can't stop thinking about what he'd read ⦁ Guilty, he opens it to read more

Diary Content ⦁ "Beel asked today if I wanted to go with him to Hell’s Kitchen, he heard they had one of my favorite foods back in stock. I was surprised and asked him how he knew it was one of my favorites, I had only eaten it twice. He told me he notices how my face changes when I eat something I particularly like, and how I make a little humming noise. I was really embarrassed and it made me a little self conscious, so I told him I'd get back to him about it. I hated seeing his face fall...Then he apologized and said he'd see me later, which made me feel even worse!! I just... the thought of someone paying that much attention to me, to notice what I like and how I act when something makes me happy...I'm not used to it. Of course I found him later and asked him if his offer still stood and I swear his smile made me forget for a moment that there wasn't a sun in the devildom."

⦁ "I failed a test today!!! Lucifer is going to kill me...I told Beel about it and he asked if I would be okay if he helped me study. I told him I would be so grateful! I was so happy I hugged him without thinking and I swear I saw him blushing, I mean I was too but then he told me I could always come to him if I ever needed anything. I swear my heart jumped in my throat. He's always looking out for me, I know he's nice to everyone but....he always makes me feel like I'm special to him. I'm probably looking into it way too much but I might have a small crush on him. Not that he feels the same way, and I'm okay with that, but it's nice to know I have someone I can always count on."

⦁ "I want a black hole to open and swallow me!!! I'm going to hide in my room until I go back home I'm so embarrassed!! I was eating lunch with Beel and I was eating a jelly pastry and he noticed I had some on the corner of my mouth so he asked me to hold still for a second, and wiped it off with his thumb then licked it! I just...couldn't stop staring at him and his mouth....He thought I wanted some of the food he was eating so he offered to let me have some, then held it out for me to take a bite. Then!! Asmo walked by and said how we were so cute together, feeding each other and acting like a cute couple! Beel was confused and told him we weren't dating, and Asmo looked surprised and told him that I had a crush so he thought I had asked him out. I haven't been answering my phone and I've been hiding out at Purgatory Hall for a few hours now. I don't think I can face Beel after this...."

His Reaction ⦁ Beel had seen Hell’s Kitchen had a dish that MC really enjoyed back in stock for a limited time, so he wanted to surprise MC. He thought he'd made them uncomfortable, in a way he kind of did but for a different reason. Maybe it was because food was his thing so he noticed how others reacted when they ate foods they did or didn't like. So he was really surprised when they found him later and apologized and asked him if he still wanted to go. At the time it made him really happy, even more so now. He felt his cheeks flush at the last sentence, did MC really feel that way?

⦁ He had seen how distraught MC was that day and when they told him what had happened, he offered to help. He usually got good grades and didn't think anything of it, but when they threw their arms around him out of the blue, and how happy they were, he got a little embarrassed. They just looked so cute and he found himself wanting to see them more so he told them they could come to him for anything. In a way they were really special to him, and he too liked them in more that just a friendly way. He felt really happy though, that they trusted him so much.

⦁ Things had gone back to normal since that day, mostly anyway. By the time dinner came around and MC still wasn't home, he went out and looked for them. Luckily when he texted Simeon and Luke, Simeon replied that they were at Purgatory Hall baking with Luke. He still wasn't sure how he felt at the time, since learning that MC also had feelings for him, but he didn't want to make things awkward so he asked if Belphie could go for him and bring them home. He replayed the events of the day over in his head, but this time from MC's point of view and how he would have felt had they acted as he had... He didn't want to make things awkward again since things had mostly gone back to normal but he also didn't just want to ignore the fact that they both had mutual feelings for each other.

Belphie ⦁ MC texts him asking if he could bring their notebooks they forgot ⦁ They were supposed to have a study session in the planetarium but MC had forgotten their things in the attic ⦁ He opens one of the notebooks to quickly scan over the notes they were supposed to study ⦁ These are not school related ⦁ This is their diary, and what’s more, there's a lot about him in it ⦁ His eyebrows furrowed and he settled in to read what MC had to say about him.

Diary Content ⦁ " Beel asked me today if I was mad at Belphie, if we had a fight. I was confused and told him no and asked why. He explained that he noticed when I would see Belphie, I'd usually try and leave the room, or I'd avoid trying to look at him again. I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious about it, but I couldn't explain the reason why to him. He told me Belphie was starting to get depressed, and mentioned that I might have had a change of heart due to the incident. I told him that wasn't the case at all! This is a mess....I'll either have to get over myself or tell Belphie the truth...It's not fair to him I'm acting like this."

⦁ "Belphie's noticed I haven't been coming over for naps as often, I always tell him I've got stuff going on. I used to be fine with cuddling for naps, was totally okay with waking up and having his arm slung over me. I don't know when it changed but I started feeling shy, I was less comfortable with him touching me. Not in a bad way! Just....I got hyper aware anytime he touched me, my heart would start pounding. And in the cases that I couldn't come up with a good reason to say no to a nap, I kept as much distance as I could. Saying I felt too hot to be all wrapped up has been a good excuse so far, and it's not a lie."

⦁ " Ugh! Everytime I try to talk to Belphie about why I've been acting so weird, one of his brothers comes around! Or Simeon...or Solomon...or Luke...It's like now that I'm trying to confess, everyone can sense something is about to go down! I just...want to tell him that I like him as more than a friend and if he can just bear with me so I can get over it, I mean he obviously doesn't feel the same and I don't want to make things more awkward and lose my best friend. Part of me wants Belphie to like me back, as more than a friend, but the other part knows that'll never happen and I need to just get over it."

His Reaction ⦁ At one point he barely spoke to MC aside from meals and in passing, they either didn't reply to his texts, or they took forever. He thought maybe they had finally come to their senses and realized that they actually hated him, and for good reason. Even though he knew they had every right, it still made him feel depressed and lonely, angry even sometimes; and one day he'd vented to Beel. While it irritated him that his twin had told MC, he was relieved to read that MC's behavior wasn't in relation to the incident. But now he was curious about what it WAS about.

⦁ He had noticed MC had been avoiding him in a sense, and at the time he wasn't sure what he'd done. But in the times that they had stayed over for a nap, they would practically be hanging off the edge of the bed, or as far from him as they could get. They told him they were hot, which given the red face and sweating, he believed. He had actually planned to get a fan and a mini air conditioner so they would be more comfortable, he still planned to, but now he had a different reason in mind.

⦁ Belphie remembered the various times MC would ask to talk with him, only to change their mind whenever someone else was around. He was actually going to ask them to meet him at the planetarium tonight and demand to know what was going on. But his brain stopped working when he read MC liked him. Like liked him. He laughed because he was doing the same thing, but he was much better at hiding his feelings. He'd had centuries to master it after all. He was tempted to let MC go through all the embarrassment of a confession after what they'd put him through lately, but right now all he wanted to do was find them and wrap his arms around them and tell them how dumb they were for crushing on a demon. A demon who was just as dumb for having a crush on a human.

#obey me #long post #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #msb writes #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me diary

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stellar-imagines · 4 years

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝roomies.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Takami Keigo, Dabi ]

「Headcanons of Hawks and Dabi with quirkless rommate. 」

TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

♤ You were just a normal university student trying to find a place to live in Tokyo. Moving from your hometown was not easy, especially when you've been there for most of your life and that it's not a busy place like Tokyo. Your parents had gotten a bit too carried away and wanted to ensure that you were comfortable in Tokyo. The apartment you were offered by a housing agency was one on the top floor, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The interior was simple and spacious, certainly a bit too large for one person.

♤ So, your housing agent brought in a roommate for you. Of course, you didn't mind at all. The rent was split, and having someone around didn't seem like a bad idea at all. However, at first, you barely saw this roommate of yours. You could only see traces, the used cutleries in the sink, the fresh scent coming from the bathroom, and whatnot. From all that, you deduced that it was a male you were living with. It took you almost a week to realize that Hawks was your roommate.

♤ As the Number Two Pro Hero, this guy is rarely at home so the chances of the two of you meeting will be very rare. The very few times you would meet would be on the days you have stayed up all night to do your projects or study for an upcoming exam. So the only time you two actually manage to sit and have a nice long chat was on Hawks's very rare day-offs. He would take his time to get to know you, from what you study to your hobbies and more detailed things.

♤ Hawks is very talkative and can have a prolonged conversation with you so casually. He let it slip that he's only like this to people he liked. This guy dislikes formalities and does not care about social status or recognition so he doesn't think too much when you told him that you're quirkless. On his day-offs, he would invite you to take it easy with him in the living room, eat some good food and have a nice long chat to unwind. And he has a lot of interesting stories, since he's always flying about and sees a lot of things.

♤ Since this guy isn't always at home, the apartment was always clean except for his room. He comes home at absurd hours and would just take a quick shower, throwing his clothes haphazardly onto the ground, and go straight to bed. And he seems to really like ordering take out. You know this because he would ask if you wanted anything before he ordered anything. Usually, its pizza, fried chicken, or curry. This guy just likes chicken wings and fried chicken a little bit too much.

♤ The two of you never really argue over anything. The house is always clean, you both took turns taking out the trash no matter how busy you both were. One thing that's a bit interesting is how you would be seated on the couch watching a movie and Hawks would suddenly decide to sit next to you in the middle of it, and watch the rest of the movie with you. He steals your snacks, much to your dismay but he repays you by surprising you with some of your favorite foods.

♤ Honestly, Hawks appears to not know what a door is. Really. He almost never uses the front door to enter the apartment and always opted for the balcony by the living room. You once woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a crash, the sound of glass breaking and footsteps. You grabbed your thickest book and chucked it at whoever entered the apartment. What you get was a loud "What the hell are you doing woman? It's just me!" as a reply. You soon learn that this guy prefers flying through the balcony to get into the apartment and always leave it unlocked.

♤ You never knew how annoying it was to have a roommate with wings until you met Hawks. He seems to really like messing around with you, especially using his quirk. Hawks is naturally a playful guy so you can't do anything about it. Sometimes he would use his feather to hold up your things out of your reach. Once he’s comfortable with you, he would annoy you even further. But depending overall, he’s a good roommate who respects your boundaries and privacy.

DABI

☆ You were a quirkless student just trying your best to survive and get through college. You were searching for an apartment that was close to your school to save transportation money. The place fit all the requirements and you quickly moved in after the landlord showed you the room. They did tell you about having a roommate living together with you but you thought nothing about it until you actually met him. First impression, he was intimidating and looked like your local rebellious yakuza. Honestly, you always reminded yourself to not get involved with him.

☆ The first time you run into each other was in the middle of the night and you almost mistook him as a murderer until you noticed how he came in through the front door and took off his shoes. Who wouldn't think he's some sort of killed with that patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that covers his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs. Not to mention, those staples and hoop piercings that are attached to his skin. In addition, those several piercings in both ears, and on the right side of his nose.

☆ Dabi is a man who’s what we call a lone wolf and he’s been alone most of the time so when he moved in, he was surprised to see you around the apartment. He didn't know that he was going to have a roommate. Honestly, he was expecting to have the whole place to himself without any disturbance. He's a very mysterious person who trusts no one, preferring to do things alone and in his own way. So he ignores you most of the time. The first time you met him was something that you would remember for a long time.

☆ However, he wasn't like any roommate you expect. He's not a good roommate nor was he a bad roommate. He's actually very rude and condescending to everyone he interacts with. Obviously, you were no exception. He's distant and emanates an aura that basically tells you that he's not interested in being friends with you. So in the beginning, he didn't bother talking to you and completely ignored your existence. But he doesn't disturb you at all and keeps the apartment surprisingly clean.

☆ When you're both already friends and somewhat comfortable with each other, he will be more casual with the way he talks to you, as if he's talking to an old friend. Sometimes he would steal bits of your food while you're in the middle of making something. He calls you a nerd constantly because he sees you in the living room doing your homework, sometimes calling with your friends to discuss a project and studying for tests or quizzes. He never really cared whether you were a quirkless person or not. Sometimes he calls you weak and harmless because you're quirkless.

☆ How you grew to tolerate each other was because of one event. It was extremely late on that day, you were hunched over your notes in the living room, with only the light from your laptop providing illumination. Dabi wasoutside by the balcony, minding his own business and staring a the street below. He eventually came inside to see you still awake. Usually he didn't care about what you do that much at that moment, he said, "You've been studying for days, you'll do fine, just go to bed." Then he left for his room. You were a bit surprised that he actually paid attention to you. Sometimes, he would put a blanket over you when he finds you sleeping on the couch.

☆ He's barely at home because of his occupation. Dabi doesn't really hide his occupation because he doesn't really care what you think about it. Since you barely see him, you don't have any idea that he's a villain. And honestly, it worries you that he's always coming home in the middle of the night. Before you got friendly with one another, you'd leave notes, telling him to keep it down at night because you're trying to sleep. Over time, you'd leave notes reminding him to get enough sleep. Sometimes, you'd leave some food for him on the dinner table.

☆ Unexpectedly grows attached to you. He sees the apartment as a place where he can let his guard down and relax. He doesn't want to be on alert within his place of comfort and relaxation. You never poked into his business and you respected his privacy. He was the same also, though he always looked like he never cared about what you're doing. He feels somewhat at ease seeing you just relaxing.

Total: 742 words Published: 05.10.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ I've seen other people assume roommates are people who live in the same apartment and in different rooms. So we just went with it. I have been very busy with a lot of things and didn’t have time to update. And we’re swamped with so many requests. We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Certainly hope that you don't mean living in the same room, anon..... We suddenly have a lot of requests..... That’s good but please remember we take a long ass time to finish one. Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?��

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

#gabriel fanfics #gabe x reader #gabriel one shots #archangel #gabriel series #supernatural #spn fics #spn fanfiction

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op-sheepy · 3 years

Note

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

---------------------------------o

Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo because of his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

---------------------------------o

Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

---------------------------------o

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

---------------------------------o

Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

---------------------------------o

Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

#One Piece #One piece fanfiction #wip game #trafalgar law #donquixote brothers #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote roci #donquixote homing #donquixote pirates #one piece bellamy #bellamy the hyena #eustass kid #kidlaw #trafalgar d water law

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twistedtummies2 · 3 years

Text

A Feline Valentine (Che’NyaXReader; Stuffing)

HUZZAH! It took me writing well into the night last night, but I was able to complete my Valentine’s Day Special after all! Hope you all enjoy! :D

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Six o’ clock. Tea Time. You really wondered (with a sigh) how Riddle got along so well with your boyfriend at times like this. Granted, you loved the fluffy-eared gremlin to bits, but if there was one thing he never seemed to care about… …Well…actually…he cared about very little. It was probably part of why Riddle didn’t dislike him for going to Royal Sword instead of Night Raven; the Cheshire Cat was by no means a hero…but he was also by no means a villain. And he was certainly by no means punctual. You paced around the table you had set up in the Tea Garden of Heartslabyul. In the light of the golden afternoon, you paused to look around. You had to admit, you’d always found Heartslabyul to be one of the most beautiful dorms; if the historic Rose Garden owned by the Queen of Hearts was even half as beautiful as the one Riddle Rosehearts and his pack maintained, it still would have been perfectly enchanting. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon, but with a light breeze that whistled through and cooled it pleasantly to a perfect temperature. The heart-shaped topiary sculptures and vibrant red roses that poked from the great green hedge rows were the perfect natural decoration for a day like today…only helped by the special scarlet paper lanterns that had been strung up, in place of the usual blue and yellow. The paper was patterned with images of hearts. Similarly, instead of the black, red, and white bunting that was usually set out, you had purposefully selected pink and purple flag streamers, which lightly fluttered and flapped in the delicate wind. You frowned as you looked back to the table; you were actually starting to feel a little worried. You’d taken a lot of time to prepare this occasion. Riddle had even allowed you to make use of his personal table; he claimed it was due to Rule 214, but he never explained WHAT Rule 214 was, so you didn’t know why that was. You checked your cell phone to see the time; it was now a couple minutes past six, you still found no sign of hide nor hair from him. You bit your lip as you stuffed your phone back in your pocket; had something happened to him? Even on a day like today, when everyone was spending time with their special someone (presuming they had one), Night Raven had plenty of troublemakers out and about…and while your beau was no pushover, especially for the “pompous, pampered little princes” who stayed in the Dorms of Royal Sword Academy, you didn’t want to risk he’d run into beasts somewhat fiercer than himself. He only had eight lives left, after all. “Come on, kitten,” you mumbled to yourself, tapping your foot with impatient nervousness. “Where are you…?” “Twaaaas brillig, and the slithy Toves did gyre and gimble in the waaabe. All mimzyyyy were the Borogoves, and the Mome Raths outgraaabe!”

You knew that strange, up-and-down, melodic voice, naturally. You knew that song, too, and therefore knew who was singing it. You glanced about curiously, but you saw nothing; this wasn’t surprising, however. Your boyfriend from Night Raven’s rival college had a habit of being non-corporeal. “Che’Nya?” you called out, then smirked. “You might as well show yourself, that ‘ghostly singing’ thing isn’t as impressive as you think it is.” A pouting meow was heard, from seemingly everywhere at all. “I thought you liked my singing. In fact, I thought you said it was The Cat’s Meow!” You blinked dully. “Those puns are going to get you in trouble, you know that, don’t you?” you droned. “I suppose it ‘hiss’ possible.” “That one,” you snapped out, lifting a finger in emphasis. “That one was ‘Meowsy.’” “Awwww, my little bunny is making cat puns now, too!” crooned the voice of the Cheshire neko. “I’m so proud!” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I learned from the best,” you drawled, waving a hand dismissively. “Now come on out!” A pause. No response. “I’m waiting!” you called out, louder. Right on cue, you felt a tap on your right shoulder. You turned…and spotted nothing. Then came a tap on your left shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned again…and once more spotted nothing. Then you started to turn around…and found yourself almost eyeball-to-eyeball with two large, glowing, golden eyes. “BOO!” “GYAH!” You yelped and jumped about six inches into the air, catching yourself on a nearby chair as you stared up at the disembodied head floating before you, a few feet above the surface of an empty table. The head giggled in a high-pitched, half-hysterical way; an unhinged but not necessarily dangerous sort of laugh, followed by a teasing grin filled with many large, sharp white teeth. “Gotcha! Nya!” sing-songed the fair-skinned face of your beau, his purple ears twitching where they sprouted from under his equally purple-haired head. A faint jingle came from the ears, courtesy of the little brass piercings shaped like signposts in each. You blinked…then frowned, blushing a bit at being caught off guard so easily. “Very funny,” you grumbled. “I thought it was!” chirruped the Cheshire Cat-Boy, his head spinning in place a full three-hundred-sixty degrees. You quivered. “How do you do that?” you muttered. “A good meow-gician never reveals his secrets!” “A GOOD magician,�� you responded dryly, “Would be on time and not make such terrible jokes.” “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not one of those!” “…Yet you won’t reveal your secrets anyway.” “Nya-ope!” “…Your jokes just get worse from here, don’t they?” Your boyfriend giggled and rolled his eyes, then his head swooped forward. You went stiff as he sniffed at your hair, and his head began to orbit around your own. It was an unsettling feeling, and you squirmed a bit, blushing as he meowed and leaned close, the lone head nuzzling your cheek as you heard the big kitty purr. “Awww…no need to be so mean, my little bun-bun,” he crooned…then licked your cheek and rumbled as he added in a whisper: “It makes you taste less sweet, you know.” You blushed bright red, and he giggled more. “Awww, bunny-bun is so cuuute when they’re flustered!” he mewed, and once again came around to your front. “Don’t worry, my little rabbit! This big kitty won’t gobble you up! Today, anyway.” “That’s a shame…” “Hm? Nya? What was that?” “Nothing, nothing,” you said, shaking your head, then tilted it as you added: “Can you make your whole self visible? It’s…weird chatting with a talking head.” You had a feeling your significant other shrugged, but since you couldn’t see his shoulders at that point, you weren’t sure. In any event, slowly but surely, the physical body of Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka – alias, Che’Nya the Cheshire Cat – finally began to fade into view. He looked the same as he always did: dressed in a white dress shirt that was several sizes two big, under which he wore a pink-and-purple-striped t-shirt. A ring with the image of a smiling cat’s head was on one of his fingers, each of which ended in short-but-sharp claws, painted the same shade of purple as his hair. A matching purple belt held up the blue jeans he wore; it bore a silver buckle, and the words “Can You Stand on Your Head?” stitched into it with silver thread. All over the legs of his blue jeans were various colored patches, resembling mushrooms, trees, and Mome Raths – strange creatures that inhabited the realm of the Queen of Hearts. Purple boots with black laces were on his feet; they were decorated in gold chains with pendants that spelled the phrases “This Way” and “That Way.” Your boyfriend smiled and blinked his huge yellow eyes. His two canine teeth stuck out from his mouth, and with his large eyes and the way he cocked his head, you couldn’t help but smile; he really did look so much like a big, curious kitten, bushy purple-and-pink-striped tail swishing behind him and all. “Can I ask you a question, Bunny?” he mewed, as he hopped down and sat the wrong way on a chair. “Sure,” you nodded. “Oh, good!” grinned Che’Nya. A pause. “…So?” “So what?” “What was it?” “What was what?” “The question!” “What question?” “The one you just asked!” “I asked a question?” “Yes, you asked if you could ask a question!” “Well, then I already asked you a question, didn’t I? In fact, I think I just asked…” He tilted his head and counted on his fingers. “…Six! A half dozen questions! Now, isn’t that great? OOH! That one makes lucky number seven!” “But…that…that doesn’t…!” Che’Nya grinned and placed his head in his hands, his chin against the back of the chair, eyes half-lidded. Try me, bunny, his smile seemed to say. Go ahead. You blinked…then grumbled and reached out, booping him on the nose. Che’Nya’s smile fell. He blinked…then sneezed, and pouted as he covered his nose. “Heeeey, no booping!” he meowed, childishly. “Then stop talking in circles.” “I don’t talk in circles,” he smirked. “I talk in squares, triangles, occasionally hexagons, and even a few parallelograms, but NEVER circles!” “You’re impossible.” “Hardly,” Che’Nya chuckled. “I do believe in Six Impossible Things before breakfast each morning, though…then I usually go out and eat them.” He winked and licked his lips as he added: “For instance…Thing Number Five this morning was believing I had the best little human in the world as my S-O. Now, doesn’t that seem impossible?” You blinked. “…I can’t tell if that was a compliment or not.” “Then I have done my job,” Che’Nya said. So saying, the Cheshire Cat got up from the chair and hugged you close. You froze up, not expecting the sudden show of affection…but when he started nuzzling your neck and purring, you smiled and returned the hug. “You may be impossible…but you’re MY kind of impossible,” you whispered. “Awww…bunnyyyyy, you’ll make me blush,” mumbled Che’Nya. “Then I’ll have done MY job,” you teased. Che’Nya giggled. “Touche! Nya!” he sang out, then pulled back and grinned at you excitedly, tail twitching as he clapped his hands. “Oh! Oh! I almost forgot! I wanna show you a trick! Can I, can I? Huh?” You chuckled and smiled; his exuberance never ceased to make you grin almost as widely as he could. Almost. Aside from maybe the Leech Twins, no one could smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat…and certainly no one could do so and NOT make it absolutely mortifying to behold. “Sure,” you said, and sat down on a chair, figuring the big event could wait till after he’d gotten it out of his system. “Go ahead, kitty.” Che’Nya let out a “squee” of delight, then made a show of clearing his throat. He then adopted a dramatic pose and waggled his fingers as he tugged on his baggy white sleeves. “Nothing up my sleeves!” he declared…then reached out with one hand. “But something back here…” You smirked and rolled your eyes as he reached behind your ear; this was an old trick, you knew how it- “Boop!” You let out a mousey squeak as suddenly something bopped your nose…then blinked as you realized, instead of a coin, he had pulled what appeared to be a golden pocket watch, tied to a matching gold chain, and had gently tapped your nose with it. Che’Nya grinned as he then lowered the watch into your waiting hands. You blinked as you looked at the gold watch; the outside was etched with your name, and when you flipped it open, the ticking watch hands inside were designed to look like Che’Nya himself (as the minute hand), with you as the hour hand…chasing him with a newspaper. You blinked…then looked up. The catboy’s eyes were very wide, and he was fidgeting anxiously. “Nya? Do you like it?” he meowed, sounding more nervous than you felt he wanted to show. “I…I do! It’s…it’s lovely!” you chuckled, and chastised yourself for using a word like “lovely,” before going on: “How did you get it? Did you…make it?” “Nope. But I have a friend who actually makes clocks and watches. He’s a bunny – actual bunny, not just cute-bunny-like-human, the way you are.” He took a moment to smirk at your blush before going on. “He gave me a discount, so I asked him to make that for me, custom. Oh! And there’s more!” Che’Nya added, and reached into the pocket of his jeans, sticking out his tongue as he focused on trying to fish something out. It took him several tries; he pulled out a yo-yo, a bag of jelly beans, a teacup, and a kitchen sink (you were NOT going to ask), before finally finding what he was looking for. “Aha! Purr-fect!” he exclaimed, and smiled as he handed over a large paper card. It looked like an oversized Ace of Hearts. Curious, you took the card, and realized it opened up; a greeting card. You looked at the words written inside; they were written over an image of a huge, cat-toothed smile. You read them aloud. “Keep Smiling, Bunny. Happy Valentine’s Day.” You looked up; Che’Nya’s eyes were very, very wide again, once again looking anxious and eager. You smiled and stood on tip-toe, kissing him on the nose. He mewed and you chuckled. “Thanks, kitty. I appreciate it a lot.” “Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day,” Che’Nya smiled back, swishing his tail happily as his ears twitched again, once again making the piercings tingle like little bells. “I would be a pretty meow-sy boyfriend if I didn’t get you a gift and a card.” “Now you’re just stealing MY puns, that’s plagiarism.” “I think you mean…” Che’Nya paused…then blinked…and tilted his head. He mouthed a few silent nothings to himself…then shrugged. “Never mind. I can’t think of a pun with that. There’s glory for you!” You crinkled your nose, and remarked, “I don’t know what you mean by glory.” “Of course you don’t, till I tell you,” Che’Nya sniffed, and explained: “When I said ‘glory,’ I meant ‘there’s a tough puzzle for you.’” “…Um…glory doesn’t mean ‘a tough puzzle’ though.” “When I choose a word,” Che’Nya responded, sagely, “It means precisely what I choose it to mean. Neither more nor less.” “Yeah, but the question is whether or not you can make a word mean-” You were stopped by Che’Nya placing a finger on your lips. His smile was indulgent, as if he were talking to a child. “The question,” he said, gently, “Is which is to be the Master. That’s all.” You were much too puzzled to respond to that properly…so you instead reached out and gave the mischievous kitten a tickling poke in the tummy. Che’Nya mewed and giggled backing up and placing his hands on his belly to protect it. “H-Hey! No! No tickling!” he meowed, blushing a bit. You smirked triumphantly…but your triumph was short lived, as the moment was broken by a deep, gurgling rumble from the belly you had just poked. GRRROOORRRLLLLBG… “Oooh,” murmured Che’Nya, wincing a bit and giving a more strained sort of smile as he scratched the back of his head with one hand, the other clutching his belly more tightly. “H-Heh…I think you woke up my tummy. I, um…I might have skipped lunch today…” “Awww, poor kitty,” you cooed, teasingly, then grinned back. “Well, thankfully, I asked you over here because I have my own Valentine’s Day gift for you.” Che’Nya’s ears perked up and he smiled wider, yellow eyes brightening. “Nya? You did? How purr-fectly wonderful of you, bunny-bun!” he sang, clapping his hands together in joy, and looking around. “Where is it? What is it? Show me, show me!” A twinkle was in your eye that might have made the Cheshire Cat proud as you stepped aside and gestured to the long table under a tree in the Tea Garden. Che’Nya stepped forward to inspect the table…then stopped in place, eyes widening all the more at what he saw. You chuckled as you looked to the fruits of your labors: with help from Trey, you’d gotten quite the little feast prepared. Half of it was store bought, the other half homemade. Given the spirit of Valentine’s Day, it was a feast that was sugar saturated: the only things not involving a great deal of saccharine sweetness were a basket of chicken tenders from Che’Nya’s favorite restaurant, and a Salmon Filet that you had gotten from the Mostro Lounge. Of course, Che’Nya’s love of tuna was renowned (right on par with Grim’s taste for it), so you had to have tuna at the table…but in the spirit of the holiday, you’d taken a different route than usual. Trey and yourself had looked up a recipe for CANDIED tuna: strips of the fish cured with salt, pepper, and maple sugar. From that point on, everything was sugary: a box of gourmet chocolates and a vase of chocolate roses were obvious must-haves for a Valentine’s meal. Vanilla cupcakes with purple hearts made in icing were also prepared, set beside a box of marshmallow bluebirds. A carton of Neopolitan ice cream was on the opposite side of the cupcakes…and last, but certainly not least, the favorite food of EVERYONE in Heartslabyul, and second only to fish and poultry for Che’Nya’s tastes: strawberry tarts, crisply cooked, and so fresh they were still steaming. You looked back to Che’Nya; his expression reminded you of a meme of a kitten looking at Christmas Tree lights for the first time, and you couldn’t keep the soft “d’awww” that escaped from you. “Like what you see?” you checked. Che’Nya blinked…then looked back at you. “You do know all that sugar is going to go to my hips, right?” “You say that as if it would discourage me.” Che’Nya smirked, and this time HE tapped YOUR nose. “Naughty-naughty, funny bunny,” he sing-songed. You blushed and grumbled to yourself as you brushed his hand away. Che’Nya sniggered, then made a show of cracking his knuckles and neck as he strutted towards the table, big bushy tail whisking about behind him. “Well…you know what they say: time to take the tiger by the horns.” You started to agree…then paused when you actually digested (no pun intended) that saying. “Wait…that’s not-” “ITADAKIMASU!” meowed Che’Nya, as he hopped into his seat at the table…and without so much as another word, grabbed hold of the cupcakes and began to eat. Ten cupcakes had been placed upon a plate, organized into a heart shape. The Cheshire Neko snatched up one of them and, without even the slightest ado (nor any sense of decorum) stuffed the entire cupcake into his mouth. NOMPH! You watched, wide-eyed and very still, as Che’Nya’s cheeks bulged with the cupcake inside his mouth; his eyes closed as he chewed slowly – GRUM, GRUM, GRUM – tail swishing, the look on his face like that of a very happy kitten as he purred softly at the flavor…then – GRULPH! – swallowed the cupcake whole. He licked some crumbs off his cheeks…then, his jaws opened wide again – wider than many would think should be physically possible – fangs parting as he began to shovel the remaining nine cupcakes into his mouth at record-breaking speed. CHOMPH-NOMPH-GROMPH-HROMPH…! You slowly began to approach the table, watching with something approaching awe as the half-cat tore through the pastries like famine was fast approaching. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen your kitty eat so much and so fast, and you knew it was only the beginning…but that never made it any less phenomenal. Between himself and some in Savanaclaw, you wondered if it was just a cat thing to be a living bottomless pit…though while some in that dorm preferred tons and tons of meat, Che’Nya was more well-known for his sweet tooth, when it came to his appetite. The cupcakes had soon been guzzled; Che’Nya next turned his attention to the chocolate roses, there were three in the vase. He plucked one free, and began to untie the wrapping around the chocolate bulb in thin strips… “Hmmm…my bunny loves me…he hates me not…he loves me…he hates me not…” You smiled as you pulled up a seat beside him and kissed the hand holding the rose playfully. “Either one works,” you shrugged cheerily. Che’Nya let out a giggle, and finished unwrapping the rose…before popping the chocolate into his mouth. He smirked around his closed mouth, winked…and then – SCHLUPK! – pulled the rose free. Only the plastic stem, wrapped in green paper, came out…he had managed to ingest the entire piece of chocolate. Che’Nya rumbled and moaned around a closed mouth; you watched as his right cheek bulged, and then his left, as he swirled the chocolate around, letting it melt in his mouth for a few moments…then, he swallowed faintly – GLURK – and you watched as his throat rippled every so slightly, Adam’s Apple rising and falling subtly, as he let the melted chocolate trickle down his throat. “Mmmmm,” he murmured, as he plucked a second rose up. “Roses are red, violets are blue, chocolate is tasty…” He paused…then you let out an “eep!” of surprise as he leaned forward and licked the very tip of your nose. “…And so are yooouuu,” he sang, with a big, teasing smile. You blushed and half-heartedly swiped at his ears. He cackled and dodged, then chomped down on the second rose. You heard his teeth saw through the chocolate before he swallowed, then treated the third and final rose in much the same manner. This was evidently enough sweetness for the catboy, at least for the start, because the next item he selected was the salmon filet. As he pulled it closer, you reached to helpfully grab a couple of plastic utensils from a box you’d provided… …Then stopped short as the cat tilted his head back, and lifted the entire filet up over his head. His jaws fell wide open, tongue rolling out like a red carpet…before he dropped the pinkish-red fish meat in and slurped it up noisily before swallowing it all in one bite. SCHLUGULP! You watched, eyes tracing the bulge the salmon made in the Cheshire Cat’s throat as it slithered down his esophagus, before dropping past his chest, and vanishing into the belly behind his shirt. The shirt fit very loosely, so you couldn’t tell what it was like behind the garment…which only made you feel a bit disappointed… …No matter. Very soon, that would be changing. “Ahhhhh…tasty fishy!” chirruped Che’Nya, and blinked his big yellow eyes at you, one ear flicking as he asked: “Did you get anything to drink?” You nodded and held up a finger in a “one moment” gesture, before reaching under the table; you pulled out three large bottles, each containing three liters of cherry soda. Che’Nya clapped his knuckles together his grin widening and eyes all but sparkling at the sight. “Oh, YAY! My favorite flavor! Thank you, bunny-bun!” “Don’t mention it,” you chuckled, and cracked open the bottle for him. The playful feline made grabby-hands at you as you offered him the bottle, which he wasted no time in placing to his lips as he began to chug down the bubbling, fizzing, dark red liquid within. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… With every swallow Che’Nya took, his neck bobbed and pulsed, the super-sweet, tangy soda pop gushing down his gullet almost by the cup-full. You admitted it was slightly surprising that cherry was Che’Nya’s favorite soft drink; based on color, you would have presumed he’d prefer grape. But then again, the Cheshire Cat was nothing if not frequently surprising. As the soda sloshed down his throat, your eye fell towards the feline’s abdomen again; you could actually hear the fruity beverage dropping down, cascading like a waterfall into his burbling belly. Finally, you saw a sight that made your heart sing and brought pinkness to your cheeks once more: that baggy, ill-fitting white shirt began to became more taut and stretched around the middle of the Cheshire Cat’s lean, lithe midsection. It was finally starting to press out… …And it must have been by quite an amount, because as soon as he finished off the bottle, pulling it away with a somewhat dramatic “Pah!” and tossing it away (one of you would pick it up later; littering was against Rule Thirty-One), he grunted and reached down, adjusting his belt and loosening his waistband, sighing as his stomach no doubt sagged from the weight within… …If that knowledge didn’t make you blush enough, what happened next as the pressure was released slightly did. “BRRRRRUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!” the Cheshire catboy burped, surprisingly long and loud for such a slippery creature. He blinked, seemingly surprised at the volume and power of the eruption, one ear flicking…then laughed childishly. “Hoo hoo hoo! I think my tummy’s getting a little bit bubbly,” he cooed, then smirked at you and reached out, taking one of your wrists. “Hmmm…c’mere…feel.” Even if you had wanted to resist, the firm grasp on your wrist denied you that privilege. So, instead, you scooted closer…and blushed more than ever as Che’Nya managed to lift up the veritable blanket of his oversized white shirt…revealing to you the pale, silky skin of his normally concave belly, now swollen by a few solid inches till it looked like he had swallowed a small melon or some sort of ball. The Cheshire Cat meowed softly as he guided your hand to his belly…and then released your wrist as your fingertips, and then your palm, rested over the curve of his midsection. His belly was textured softer than velvet, warm as a heated pillow. When you pressed upon it, it gave ever so slightly under your pressure. Che’Nya hiccuped and then stifled another burp, catching it in his cheeks… “HIC-MMMRRRRRLLLLPH…phoosh.” …Before teasingly blowing the gas right in your face. You coughed and blushed, tears springing to your eyes as Che’Nya smirked lazily at you. “…C-Cat Breath,” you gasped out. “You know you love it,” cooed Che’Nya, licking his fangs and winking…then giggled as he lifted one arm. “Hey, check this out…” He waggled his fingers…and, before your very eyes, the hand that had been there wasn’t there any more. There was no flash of light, no puff of smoke; one second the hand was there, the next, it wasn’t. “Nothing up my sleeves again!” he sang out. You rolled your eyes…then yelped, momentarily allowing your hand to leave his belly (which you instantly regretted, perhaps more than you cared to admit aloud), as the hand reappeared, floating in mid-air, and holding the basket of chicken strips. You looked from the hand and the basket, and back up to Che’Nya…who, with his one remaining hand, gave you the biggest, widest “kitty eyes” he could…and then pointed into his mouth. “Feed me?” he meowed, innocently. …You couldn’t decide if that was cute, attractive, or both. You decided on both, and nodded with a wide smile, taking the basket from Che’Nya’s…disembodied…floating…hand (yeah, having the Cheshire Cat for a boyfriend was WEIRD sometimes), and placed it in your lap as you adjusted your chair. Che’Nya “recalled” his hand (it vanished from thin air and reappeared back in place at the end of his arm), and happily wiggled as he reclined slightly in the well-padded throne Riddle usually occupied. You dimly imagined Riddle complaining about cat shedding all over his cushions, and couldn’t help but snicker as you lifted one of the crispy, perfectly seasoned tenders from the basket. “Open wide,” you said. Che’Nya was only too happy to oblige, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open expectantly. You could have sworn a puff of steam came from his salivating jaws as he did so…you opted not to comment on it, for numerous reasons. You blushed as you had a very good look at the deep red, saliva-dripping interior of his maw, framed by pointed white fangs, including those two elongated canines that had a tendency to stick out in an (adorable) overbite…fangs that were primed to cut and rip into anything that got too close and tasted delicious… You quivered, suddenly imagining yourself being dangled over that wide maw like a mouse…and shook your head quickly to clear it before holding the chicken strip over his mouth. Your lips quirked as you saw his nose twitch in a decidedly catlike way, ears pricking up happily as he no doubt smelled the spices and seasonings used in the batter to bread the tenders. Without any further ceremony, you let the chicken tender drop…and Che’Nya quickly scarfed it up in three fast bites, like a cat snarfing down a very fat rodent. He rumbled pleasantly, sighing through his nose as he chewed, teeth piercing into the juicy white meat…before – GRULP! – swallowing it down in one bite. Your eyes followed the lump in Che’Nya’s throat as it vanished…and you let out a soft squeak as the cat let out a low, rumbling burp, once again right in your face. “Uuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrp…hoo-hoo, excuse me…more, please!” You didn’t have to be told twice. One by one, you fed the boy with the catlike ears all of the chicken tenders. There were eight in total; the first four, Che’Nya chewed up happily…but with the last rest, he didn’t seem to chew at all, wolfing them down (ironically for a big cat) and swallowing them whole. Hot, moist breath pelted your face, steadily smelling more and more strong as you added food to the organic cauldron deep within the catboy’s core. As you watched him scarf down the last chicken strip, and put away the empty basket, the purple-and-pink tail of the felid hybrid swirled out and swept up the heart-shaped box of gourmet chocolates you had chosen, and carefully desposited it into your hands. You smiled and opened the box. “Any you would like first?” you said, offering to show him the contents…but Che’Nya shook his head, looking quite excited. “Surprise me!” he meowed happily. You chuckled and looked into the box briefly, trying to decide…before plucking up the chocolate of choice: a simple mini-bar drizzled with a spiral of white chocolate. Che’Nya stuck out his tongue, and you blushed as you placed the chocolate onto the tongue directly…then yelped, barely having time to pull your fingers away before the tongue retracted and the sharp teeth snapped shut. Che’Nya chewed a few times and purred. “Mmmmm,” he murmured, and swallowed before commenting: “GULP…orange crème! Yummy! More, more!” You smiled wider, and, just as you had with the chicken strips, began to feed the big kitty one chocolate at a time. The orange crème was followed by one of raspberry crème, which was then followed up by caramel, then nougat, then a chocolate truffle… GLUPP-GLUPP-GLUPP… The purple-and-pink-haired catboy happily swallowed each chocolate, purring pleasantly as each morsel was placed inside his mouth and sent rolling down his neck and into his stomach, melting into cream and pooling in his tummy, which gurgled in a happy, high-pitched sort of way as the sugary, milky confections plopped half-solid into the pit. Every so often, his slippery, sloppy, somewhat sandpapery tongue would brush against your fingers, slurping over your hands…the first couple of times, this MIGHT have been accidental…but after the third slurp, you caught the hungry gleam in his golden eyes, and knew it wasn’t. There were two dozen chocolates in the box; two of each kind available. Ironically, the last chocolate you gave to Che’Nya turned out to be identical to the first: an orange crème-filled morsel drizzled with white chocolate in a spiral shape. You reached out to place it in his open maw… NOMPH! “YEH?!” You yelped in surprise and instinctively tried to pull back…and blushed when a playful growl and firm resistance met your efforts. You felt as if steam might be pouring from your cheeks, as Che’Nya had somehow managed to wrap his mouth around your entire hand. You felt his tongue slurp over your fingers as he suckled on you with a deep rumble; you barely even noticed the moment when the chocolate was flicked away and sent tumbling down his throat to join the rest in his guts. Finally, Che’Nya released you – after what was probably less than a minute, but felt like more than an hour – and you absent-mindedly wiped your hand clean with a napkin. Che’Nya licked and smacked his lips, before letting out a short, sharp sort of belch. “BRUPK! Mph…yum-meow!” he declared, snickering at his horrible pun. You blinked slowly. “…Are you referring to the chocolate, or me?” you asked, dryly. Che’Nya grinned and winked. “Yes.” God dang this teasing cat. You grumbled and tried to bap him on the nose…only to swat at thin air as his head disappeared from his shoulders. Just as you registered this anomaly, you nearly jumped a foot in the air as a loud, abrasive noise blasted like an airhorn in your ears from behind you. “BOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAP!” “GAH! D-Don’t…don’t DO that!” You panted, startled and blushing all at once. The belly of the headless body of Che’Nya bounced as his disembodied head spun around in mid-air, laughing good-naturedly. “Sorry, sorry!” he chuckled out, and winked teasingly. “No need to LOSE YOUR HEAD about things.” You grumbled and huffed, trying to show him you were ABSOLUTELY mad at him, yes, totally. He blinked, and meowed…then his floating head nuzzled your shoulder. To anyone else, this would have been surreal and disturbing. To you…at this point, it was just Sunday. “Will you feed me those bluebirds if I say I’m sorry?” he mewed, glancing towards the marshmallow birds and giving you his most innocent eyes. You blinked at him…then smiled, and scratched him behind his ears. He purred happily, a cheery smile on his face at the attention. “Sure,” you said, in a warm, simple voice. There was a pause. “Well?” “Nya?” Che’Nya murmured opening his eyes as his head pulled away and floated just out of reach. “Well what?” “Say you’re sorry!” “I already did!” he grinned happily. Your mouth opened and closed a few times…but you finally just gave up, throwing your hands up and half-sighing, half-chuckling before reaching for the marshmallow birds. Che’Nya smirked triumphantly, and his head flipped clear over yours before landing back in its proper place atop his neck, fingers drumming over his already bloated tummy, which inched out further and further… You opened the box of candy bluebirds; there were only a half dozen of them in total. Feeling rather playful yourself now, you mouthed the word “Catch” to your half-cat boyfriend, and lifted one of the marshmallow treats, preparing to throw it. Che’Nya nodded, catching onto what you were thinking instantly, and opened his mouth. You thus tossed the six birds – once again, one by one – into his mouth.

Che’Nya did not close his mouth nor swallow till all six of the marshmallow goodies were dropped into his craw…then, and only then, did he shut his jaws tight. He chewed three times, grinding away at the squishy, spongy stuff…and then swallowed it all in one go. GLULP! A thick, round, distention formed in Che’Nya’s neck. He grunted and thumped his chest as it passed behind his ribcage…then sighed and patted his belly, which let out a deep “glort” as the food was dropped into place. “Oof…nya…I think I need to wash that one down,” he mumbled, and grabbed hold of the second bottle of cherry soda himself. He cracked it open, paused to allow the pressurized air to settle…then unscrewed the cap and rapidly began to swill down all three liters. His Adam’s Apple bobbed and bounced as if suspended in tumultuous water… GLUG, GLUG, GLUG…! You listened to the sound of the soda pouring down into the Cheshire hybrid’s belly. GLORSH, GLORSH, GLORSH…your mind began to wander, conjuring up a mental picture of what it must have been like inside that swollen stomach, as it continued to expand, creaking against the waistband of the cat’s trousers, the pulled-up shirt draped over its upper curve. Dark…swampy…slimy…smelly…the walls ever moving, always working to stir up the contents of the beast-man’s bowels…you imagined being squeezed in-between them, the soda pouring down over your head as the stomach growled hungrily in your ears… …The rumbling belch from your boyfriend snapped you out of it. “GWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRP! Ahhhh…you chose the BEST soda, bunny!” Alchemi smiled widely, tail flipping happily behind him as he grunted and once again adjusted his belt, groaning with relief as his gut was allowed more breathing room. “Ooof…I’m feeling kinda heavy now…mmmmrrrrroooowwwwl…” “I’m not surprised,” you mumbled, eying that engorged stomach, which was now bigger than a basketball, tightly compressed behind the waistband of the kitty-boy’s patched pants. Your fingers twitched and fidgeted, but you somehow restrained yourself, watching as Che’Nya rubbed over his belly himself, claws lightly brushing against his sensitive, supple skin… “Oooooh…soooo full already,” he half-moaned, half-purred. “I can feel it all getting sloshed and churned around in there…” He patted the side of his belly and hiccuped before sighing and going on. “HIC! Ohhhh…all that sugar’s making my tummy feel all hot and heavy, too…I might not have much money, but I’m gonna be a literal ‘fat cat’ when it’s all done, I know it…” “One can only hope.” “Nya?” “Nothing, nothing,” you said, shaking your head…then reached for the dish of candied tuna strips, holding it out with a hopeful smile. “Sure you don’t have room for more?” Che’Nya blinked; one of his ears flickered and he leaned close, innocently sniffing at the dish; his gut let out a powerful, NEEDY roar as the scent of maple and that wonderful fishy odor all cats seemed to like teased his tastebuds. He licked the very tips of his jagged teeth. “…Well…no, I don’t have any room,” he admitted. You turned your head down, a little disappointed…not only because you wanted to see your boyfriend even more stuffed than usual, but because you’d really been looking forward to him trying the tuna… …But your spirits were lifted when Che’Nya added, “But I think I can fit more in my belly. Always space for tasty fishies!” “But…you just said you don’t have any room.” “I don’t,” the Cat sniffed, somewhat snootily, and gestured about with his ring hand. “We are here in the great outdoors, and there are no rooms out here! MY room isn’t even at this CAMPUS, so therefore, I can’t have it. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t space…” He poked his belly with one finger; it wobbled. “…In. Here.” You squirmed a bit and let out a whimpery noise…which you immediately covered up with a cough. Che’Nya tilted his head, as if confused by your reaction…but you waved him off and simply offered the plate again. “Whatever…go ahead and dig in, you silly kitty.” “I can’t dig without a shovel; I’d get dirt under my claws!” pouted Che’Nya. You responded by giving his belly a light shove…which resulted in him grunting and burping crudely out the side of his mouth. “Mph…BWWWOOOORRRRRK! Heeey, not nice!” he huffed, brushing the burp aside. “Actually, that sounded VERY nice to me,” you muttered. Che’Nya’s face immediately became a smirk, and he playfully tousled your hair. You swatted at his hands with a half-hearted sneer, and he chuckled before finally beginning to eat the candied tuna, picking it up two strips at a time and dropping them into his wide open mouth. He growled, the caramelized coating on the fish creating a sweet-and-salty taste that ignited his tastebuds, making the feline’s golden eyes roll in his head as he crunched them up like pieces of bacon – MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH – before swallowing and chomping down on two more slices. There were eight pieces of candied tuna, just as there had been eight pieces of chicken. After four rounds, Che’Nya put the empty plate down on the table, and purred as he licked and sucked on the fingers of his other hand. “Mmmmm…sooooo tasty,” he crooned, and grinned widely at you. “One of the best things I’ve ever tasted! It’s purrrrrrr-fect! Can I have more of that? Pleeeaaase?” “Some other time,” you chuckled, smiling very wide at the exuberance of the kittenish imp, and pointed to the table. “There are still two more courses left.” Che’Nya nodded, and hummed thoughtfully, one hand scratching his chin, and the other scratching his “slorshing” belly as he tried to decide between the tarts and the carton of Neopolitan ice cream. “Hmmmm,” he murmured…then, seemingly out of nowhere, summoned a silver coin into his hand and looked to you. “Quick! Heads or tails?” “Uhhh…h-heads?” you exclaimed, taken off guard. Che’Nya flipped the coin and caught it again, checking it quickly. “Well?” He looked to you…smirked…and you blinked as his head AND his tail both disappeared. “That,” his disembodied voice answered, “Would be telling.” So saying, his tail suddenly reappeared, and tickled your nose. You sneezed and glared half-heartedly as his head returned with a laugh, and he reached for the ice cream, as well as a plastic spoon. He opened the carton, dropping the lid onto the table…then smirked at you as he scooped up a spoonful from the strawberry side of the carton. “Nya…THIS is ‘digging in,’ funny bunny,” he winked…and proceeded to shovel the ice cream at record-breaking speed into his mouth, arm practically a blur as he gobbled up the cool, creamy dessert dish… GLOMPH-GRULPH-NOMPH-MRULPH…! Globs of ice cream chased each other down the Cheshire Cat’s gullet as he guzzled it up as fast as he could; it was like his esophagus had become a cooled conveyor belt. Idly, you marveled at how he didn’t seem to get brain freeze from slurping it up so rapidly. Che’Nya alternated between the three flavors in a rhythmic pattern: strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate…he chowed down, lapping up the melted cream like a cat might lap up milk before continuing to virtually inhale the more solid stuff. He soon finished a quarter of the carton…then half…then two thirds… “Guh…oooof…fffaaahhhhaaaa…” Che’Nya panted, dropping the spoon into the empty carton, and then dropping that into the grass at his feet. He panted, clutching his belly with one hand as the ice cream sat heavily in his belly; his guts sounded like a processing vat at a factory, stirring and swirling the thick mush within, thickened by the sweet, cold cream he’d pumped down into the pit. “BLLLLUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUGLP!” he belted out, and sighed deeply. “Nyaaaaa…tummy’s sooooo – HIC-URP! – so gurgly…I feel – HIC! – so heavy…” You were red as a strawberry as you glanced between Che’Nya’s face and his belly. He seemed to know what you were thinking, as he looked to you with his widest, most innocent, most pleading “kitty eyes” and mewed sweetly. “Tummy rubs?” was all he said. That was all the invitation your twitching fingers needed, as you had to hold yourself back from lunging at his bloated gut. You reached towards his waistband; he rumbled curiously as you unfastened his belt, and then the button of his pants… ZZZRRRIIIP! BLORGSH! “NYYYYYYYYYYAAAAOOOOORRRRRRUUUUUUUUUEEEHHHUUURRRRRRRP! Ahhhhhh…sooooo GOOD…” Your eyes widened as Che’Nya’s belly poured out like a huge ball of dough into his lap, completely freed from restraints, surging forth from under the draped portion of his baggy white shirt. His navel was stretched into a tight ellipse, and you felt your heart pound faster in your chest as you looked upon the bloated mass of his middle. “…Eeee…eeeeeeeeeeeeee…” “Awwww…bunny liiiiikes?” Che’Nya breathed out, eyes half-lidded as he grinned at your expression and let out a giggle; his gut sloshed and jostled with his mirth. “C’mon, bunny-bunny…it’s nya-ot gonna rub itself…” Once again, you needed no further invitation. Your hands soon found their way to the warm, soft belly one of them had been pressed to earlier, and you began to tend to your boyfriend’s big, bulbous belly. Across the silken surface, your fingers caressed the softest, most tender portions of the belly of the beast-boy, and kneaded and massaged at the tenser areas. You let your hand wander to the side of the burgeoning belly, the size of a large medicine ball, and gave it a few hearty pats; each little slap made a satisfying thump, like smacking the sides of a ripened gourd. Che’Nya meowed and purred deeply; for several moments, he didn’t move or say a word, eyes closed as he just enjoyed the wonderful gut rubs you were giving him: a gift almost as good, if not better, than the bountiful, super-saccharine feast you had prepared. He lay limp and totally relaxed, crooning and meowing a few times as you scritched and scratched at the upper curve and the sides of his globular gut…being pampered was soooo good… …Then his nose twitched…and he opened one yellow eye. The glimmering golden iris smoldered like a dying candle as he eyed the last dish on the table. An arm draped over your shoulder, momentarily stopping you…and you watched as Che’Nya pointed with his other arm at the strawberry tarts. There were five of them arranged on the plate in a neat little array. He said nothing, but simply pointed into his open mouth, then poked his giant belly with one finger. You smiled, nodded, and paused to grab the plate. You placed it upon his gut…and with one hand gently rubbing back and forth over the center-part of his gastric globe, you used the other to feed him the tarts. The first tart was finished in just two bites…but after that, the cat ate more slowly. His teeth sank into the crispy, warm, buttery crust and pulled away the strawberry filling within with a growl as he chewed steadily before GULPing down huge mouthfuls…but the mouthfuls came with greater gaps between them. The feline breathed more heavily, even letting out little keening sounds as he went on: the second disappeared into his guts in another two bites, though more widely spaced out…but the third went down in three bites. The fourth went down in four…and, at last, the fifth and final tart was eaten in a number of bites that matched the pattern. Che’Nya licked his chops, lapping up some stray crumbs…then coughed and grimaced. “That…th-that last one was…a little dry,” he panted out, clearly finding it harder to breathe from the sheer weight in his bowels. You nodded and reached for the final bottle of soda, offering it to him. Che’Nya eyed it almost distrustfully, very much like a spoiled pet cat not sure what to make of a new brand of cat food…then shrugged and took the triple-liter, cracking it open and slugging it down as he had the two before. GLUG…GLUG…GLUG… The half-cat drank more slowly as he began to drain the final three-liter of strong-and-sweet cherry soda. You watched as it flooded down his gullet in waves. Unable to contain your flustered curiosity, you carefully lowered your head, and rested it upon the belly of the beast-man like it was your own pillow. The first thing that registered was the wonderful warmth of your kitty-cat’s body…then, you could hear the gurgles, louder than ever. The splashing noises as soda slushed down into bubbling mire, making it froth more than ever as the muscular contractions swished the fluid and sludge inside. You closed your eyes, and you could almost imagine those sounds surrounding you…the borborygmi a peculiar lullaby, making you feel as if you could melt away and forget your problems… …Not literally, of course. You were kinky, not suicidal. And besides, while Che’Nya may not have been the most heroic student of Royal Sword…the fact he chose that over Night Raven said something about his ethical viewpoints. With some, like Leona Kingscholar or Floyd Leech, you had no clue if their threats to devour and digest you were truly jokes or not. With Che’Nya, there was always that safety blanket: he really was just a big, fluffy kitten at heart. “Gruh!” grunted said fluffy kitten, as he polished off the last of the cherry soda…and you could actually hear the gases in his belly ROAR as it rumbled deeply before a HUGE eruption sounded off just above you. “BYYYUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLPK!” Che’Nya sighed deeply and let out a long, moaning meow before speaking: “That…was…a GOOD meal..mmmmmmmaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh…” You smiled and gave his bloated tummy a chaste kiss. He mewled and wiggled a bit under you, gut sloshing and bobbling more as a result. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, kitty-cat,” you said, and nuzzled against his belly lovingly. “Mmmm…I think I’m enjoying my own way right now…heh heh…” Che’Nya gave a lazy, languid smirk…and rested a hand over your head. He didn’t press down, didn’t exert any force at all…he just let it rest there. That was fine. You were in no hurry to move your head away from his pillowy, plumpened gut. “So…how do you feel?” you asked, tracing circles around his belly button. “Satisied?” Che’Nya growled deeply; you swore you could hear his toes curl in his boots. “I feel – HUUUURRRRP! – ohhhhh…I feel like I ate away one of my eight remaining lives…” He slurped over his lips and added with a low, bubbling belch: “Worth it.” You chuckled and moved your hand down towards the underside of his gut; the softest, warmest, most sensitive part of his belly. He gasped sharply…then sighed, melting at your touch as you carefully moved your hand with a feather-light sensitivity over that region. “Nyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaa…so THAT’S why you’re my favorite human,” he mumbled out, slurringly. You sniggered and gave the underside the very softest of pats, biting your lip and pressing into it slightly, just to feel how very, very warm and tender it was. “I try,” you said, simply, and paused before adding: “It helps that you’re my favorite kitty.” “Well, I’m clever and adorable, so I better be.” You smirked, and responded by giving his gut a shake and saying: “Well, you’re not very humble.” “BUUUUURRRRRRP! Ahhhh…humble is not in a cat’s vocabulary,” Che’Nya responded with a shrug. “Or have you ever known a cat that didn’t show some level of vanity?” You felt this could not easily be denied, so you just decided to stick your finger in his navel and move it around in there to distract him. Che’Nya’s eyes fluttered closed and his tongue flopped from his jaws. He panted heavily, tail flopping limp as he relaxed all the more. “Ooooooooh…bunny? Have I ever told you you’re the Cat’s Meow?” “On many occasions,” you answered, choosing not to remind him he’d used that joke already, too. “Mmmm…well…telling you one more time won’t hurt,” Che’Nya murmured with another shrug, twining his fingers in your hair. You rolled your eyes with a loving smile. There was a pause. “…Thank you.” “Nya? For…mph…for what, my bunny?” “The pocket watch. And…and for just being you. Every greedy, confusing, fun, silly, wonderful thing that is you. I…sometimes feel like, since we’re from different schools, so I can’t see you as often as I like, you may not realize how much I-” The hand in your hair gently lifted your head…and the other hand placed a finger on your lips. Che’Nya smiled with a half-lidded, affectionate light in his eyes. “I realize, bunny. I realize,” he said, simply. Those were all the words you needed, and you gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed and mewed before letting go of your hair and letting out a deep yawn. “Nya…I think I need a catnap…wake me up before it gets dark, so we can clean up. I don’t want Riddle to have a cow…or a horse…or any other farmyard animal. They’d make an awful mess…” You rolled your eyes, but said you would. “Rest easy, my kitty…and Happy Valentine’s Day.” Che’Nya smiled, but he didn’t say Happy Valentine’s Day back. His eyes had closed, and he had already fallen asleep…but the warmth in his smile, the way his arm tightened around you protectively and possessively, and the lustrous purr that thrummed through his core, said everything for him. You smiled just as warmly, then shook your head with amusement and closed your own eyes as you rested your head happily against his sugar-laden stomach once more. “Heh…asleep within seconds. I guess that’s a cat thing, too…”

The End

#disney #twisted wonderland #kink fic #stuffing #belly #belching #burping #implied vore #fanfic #valentine's day special #che'nya #alchemi alchemivich pinka #cheshire cat #alice in wonderland #royal sword #royal sword academy #we're all mad here

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script-nef · 4 years

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I come for the interaction and the food | Miya Osamu

Category: crack, fluff

2k words; pseudo-reddit thread of Onigiri Miya

The owner of Onigiri Miya

Yo dudes. So my friend was raving about the onigiri shop for ages, and she was so damn relentless that I gave in. And I like onigiri in the first place, especially negitoro, so I went (is this TMI?). Anyway I was like???? So damn shook when I went in because the owner is like???? Damn??? He's so hot and I am simping for him, and the female population in the shop was as well like hearts were flying out of their eyes. I'm going to go there every day and ugh I know it’s cheesy and cliché but I hope he notices me or something like that DON’T JUDGE I’M LONELY OKAY??

Comments [Anon]: I KNOW RIGHT LIKE EVERYONE IS IN LOVE WITH HIM AND HIS ONIGIRI UGH FOOD FOR THE EYES AS WELL AS THE STOMACH

[Anon]: Y’all are simping for a real person and I just have to say: LMAO ME TOO UGH HE’S JUST REALLY HOT AND PATIENT AND HIS VOICE IS SO NICE

[Anon]: YASSS HE REALLY IS AND HE ALWAYS COMES UP WITH NEW MENUS AND LETS SOME OF US TRY SAMPLES BUT IT’S ALWAYS. AMAZING. HE’S AN ONIGIRI GOD, I TELL YOU.

→ Continue thread

[Anon]: Um, OP? I don't know how to tell you this but… He has a girlfriend… like a really cute girlfriend who he’s been dating for years now.

[Anon]: Say what?

[Anon]: Hey what. What. I didn’t know this. I’ve been visiting his shop for like 3 months and I didn’t know this. What.

[OP]: Oh. Great. My romance has died even before it started. ;^;

[Anon]: Well you can join us obsessing over their relationship! She visits a lot and they’re cute all the damn time so frequent customers made a small online group to share episodes.

→ Continue thread

I just saw Hime and wow, damn

So I went to OM today—because wow it’s so delicious please open a second shop MyaSamu—and my eyes were blessed because WHO DID I SEE?? YEP, IT WAS HIME.

Like y’all know how he calls her Hime as a nickname, which is so [censored] cute, and SHE LIVES UP TO THE NAME. There’s like, a graceful aura around her and it’s sort of blinding? As soon as you see her, it’s like “Ah, yep. That’s her. No one else can be called Hime other than her.”

AND SHE GOT SO FLUSTERED WHEN I CALLED HER HIME BY ACCIDENT!! It just literally slipped out because I’m a [censored] idiot like that and she turned so red! And started hitting MyaSamu out of embarrassment! But her hits didn’t even look that painful and he was smiling so happily. My eyes were blessed that day.

Comments [Anon]: Oh my god you’re so lucky, I want to see him smile… I mean, he does, but apparently he smiles differently when he’s with Hime and I know that if I see that, my day will instantly become better.

[Anon]: Oh dude, you are not wrong. He somehow becomes more radiant. Just. How?

[Anon]: Imagine being that cute and beautiful together. What a power couple.

[Anon]: You know what happened once? I was really down while I was eating there because I got a bad grade, and she came over to talk to me!! Because apparently I looked way too sad and she was worried about me! UGH I’M FALLING FOR YOU HOW ARE YOU THIS KIND?! ARE YOU AN ACTUAL ANGEL?

[Anon]: This just confirmed, Hime was never human. She is the epitome of angelic grace here to save us and MyaSamu is so blessed for being with her.

Y’all are weird as [censored], why do you do this [censored]

Why are you guys obsessing over real people like that? I would be creeped out if I knew anyone does this, you guys are invading their privacy. Get a life and stop being so damn disturbing.

Comments [Anon]: ??? He knows about this. He literally checks up on this site a couple of times per week. He explicitly said to many customers “Thanks for liking me and my girlfriend so much. You guys are funny.” The [censored] are you on?

[Anon]: I asked Hime once before and she said it’s fine as well unless we’re stalking them or some [censored] like that. And we don’t. We’re just exchanging stories on our interactions with them inside the shop and how cute they are. He said it actually helps with his revenues and sales.

[Anon]: Literally. They’re just really cute. Like you look at them and boom, you have diabetes, no exceptions.

[Anon]: I think he said like half of his new customers came after seeing this thread, so back off

Ignore that person, GUESS WHO I SAW

Y’all might be thinking Hime, and yes, I did see her as well. BUT I ALSO SAW ATSUMU! He was hanging with Hime and teasing her so much. Then MyaSamu got annoyed and they nearly brawled there lmao perfect representation of siblings.

Hime tried to stop them and when they kept on fighting, she slapped them both on the back and shouted for them to cool it. MyaSamu I guessed since they’re going out, but she tamed Atsumu. Atsumu. My heart thumped because she was so awesome. Like, you’re cool, kind, sweet, amazingly pretty and on top of that, badass as well? Lady, you should be designated as a national treasure.

Comments [Anon]: Bruh. I live super close to OM. I go there practically every week. I’ve filled out the coupon like, 5 times. I’ve never met Hime once. AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT YOU SAW HIME AS WELL AS ATSUMU???? WHY HAVE THE GODS FORSAKEN ME??

[Anon]: How cool was she? I can’t imagine Atsumu folding to anyone that’s not his parents.

[Anon]: I feel like he would be rude to his own parents tho lol

[Anon]: True true

[OP]: She was like, the epitome of cool. Based on the sound of the slap I would have been rolling on the floor while crying in pain but they kind of seem used to it or something? She just glowered at them and they immediately shut up. I wonder if she was like that when they started dating as well.

[Anon]: I find it funny that everyone is focusing on Hime while Miya Atsumu, division 1 volleyball player and one of the members of Japan’s national team, is right there.

[Anon]: Atsumu pales in comparison to Hime. This is a fact.

[Samu]: True

[Anon]: ??? The [censored]? Are my eyes working? Is that… actually Osamu? As in like, the Osamu that we’re talking about? Like the owner of OM?

[Samu]: Yes

[Anon]: Okay then bye I’m never coming here ever again. Goodbye y’all and watch me die haha [censored]

Friend of Samu and “Hime”

I can’t really believe this actually exists but it’s really funny and kinda cringey to see everyone fawn over Osamu and “Hime” like this. I've been their friend since high school and let me give you a fact: “Hime”’s nickname during her time in school was Janus like the two faced God. Because she’s really nice all the time but once she gets angry, it’s over for everyone. Everyone.

So what do y’all do here, just share stories?

Comments [Anon]: Holy [censored] what. What. CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT THEM?? WHAT WERE THEY LIKE IN SCHOOL? WERE THEY STILL CUTE AND SWEET LIKE THE BEST BRAND OF CHOCOLATE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD????

[Anon]: YEAH LIKE WHITE CHOCOLATE

[Anon]: I’m sorry, but if you think white “chocolate” is good then please keep that [censored] to yourself because that [censored] embarrassing.

[Anon]: White chocolate is good!

[Anon]: You’re an embarrassment to humankind.

→ Continue thread

[Anon]: As the person on the above thread has said, could you share little stories of how they were like in school? If they’re fine with it?

[OP]: Hmm… well I’ll ask first.

I got the permission

Hm, I don’t really know what to say about their relationship though. I was friends with them for a long while but it wasn’t really surprising when they started dating. Osamu’s liked her for years. I heard they were childhood friends and were stuck at the hip with Atsumu as well, but she was closer to Osamu. Though that’s kind of a given, what with Atsumu’s [censored] personality.

She was one of the school council members and really popular as well. Always eager to help people, has a smile on her face and a complete disaster. She’s so damn clumsy and uncoordinated that I once saw her trip on air. On air. How. She’s terrible at cooking as well, like apocalyptic level. She somehow managed to burn rice in home economics class even with three other people keeping an eye on her. It was actually pretty impressive.

Anyway, Osamu was absolutely smitten with her and everyone with eyes or common sense could see it. Except for… you guessed it, her. He would literally be tripping over himself to help her and we were all like “boy, please be more subtle you are killing us”. Especially Atsumu since he had to deal with that even at home because they’re neighbours. I once took a photo of him making the most disgusted and annoyed face, but it got deleted when I changed my phone. An international loss.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, how they went out. I gotta go to sleep so I’ll post that later.

Comments [Anon]: ???? YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THAT??? HOW ARE YOU SO CRUEL THIS ISN’T FAIR I CAN’T GO TO SLEEP BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

[Anon]: EXCUSE ME ARE YOU SKILLED IN TORTURE BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY DYING YOU CAN’T JUST BOUNCE AFTER TELLING US THAT. COME BACK!!!!

[Anon]: Dudes I have a good idea. Let’s spam them with comments.

[Anon]: Oh ho, smart, smart.

[Anon]: Dude

Damn you guys are persistent

Chill, I need my sleep as well.

Alright, this was a while ago so some facts might be inaccurate. Also she forbade anyone from commenting on it during school. It’s fine now though, and thankfully I was sitting next to them when it happened.

So Osamu always brings bentos and makes hers as well. He used to make them for Atsumu as well (unwillingly but had to since he complained about it so much) but stopped after like, the second time because they got into a fight. I think the reason was that Atsumu was whining too much about how he doesn’t like some of the side-dishes and Osamu snapped. That was a fun day.

We were eating in the classroom and enjoying our lunch when she blurted out something like “Osamu, you’re so good at cooking! You’d be a great chef. Your wife would want to let you cook for the entire time you’re together!” Which was fine because everyone knows he’s good at cooking. I think that’s what you guys call a gap moe or something, I dunno.

And Osamu just stared at her. You know what moment when you just feel something bad is going to happen? Like that chill in your back? Yeah, it was that. I sensed that from Osamu. Atsumu probably got it as well because our eyes locked and the red alarm of “STOP HIM” flashed in front of both our eyes.

But before we could interrupt, Osamu just smiled and said “I can cook for you like that if you want.” And I [censored] you not, everyone went quiet. We were staring at him like “??? Did you just propose before even asking her out on a date?” And her face, oh god I didn’t know her face could be that red or that her eyes could be so big. She was literally frozen while trying to eat like the rest of us watching them.

When she stayed frozen, it was like there was an error message saying “[Name].exe has stopped working. What the [censored] did you do.” above her head. Osamu eventually moved and dragged her out of the classroom. And they didn’t come back until the bell rang for the next class.

I don’t know what happened during the talk, but I guess he finally confessed because they were holding hands when they came back.

Anyway, yeah. That’s the story of how they went out. I have to sleep again so bye.

Comments [Anon]: WHAT THE [censored]

#osamu x reader #osamu imagine #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!! one shot #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#osamu #miya osamu #SNS format #crack #fluff #female reader

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

to grandmother’s house we go

sigma chi jj x reader

you bring jj to your family’s christmas

ope. two days late again

(warnings: a little bit of cursing, minor editing)

The first Christmas JJ came home with you, you felt like you should warn him. The two of you had been together for just over two years, and he was used to your immediate family, but your extended family was a different story.

“Okay,” you started when he crossed over the state line into your home state, “I feel like I should say that we aren’t going to be at my house much.”

“What?” he asked, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, um, my family normally goes to stay out of town with my Grandma. We do one half of the family on Christmas Eve and the other half on Christmas Day.”

JJ raised his eyebrows, “Your family knows I’m coming right? Like your extended family?”

“Yeah, definitely! My mom told them.”

“And they were okay with it?” he asked, sounding cautious.

“They’re eager to meet you,” you reassured him, “I think they’re just happy to see me finally dating someone.”

He snorted, “Yikes.”

“Yeah, well, my family lives to pressure my sister and I into marriage.”

“Wait,” he looked a little panicked, “they’re not expecting us to be engaged, right?”

“No, but they might bring it up. Just ignore it.”

“I-” he cut himself off, “okay, if you say so.”

You were just glad the conversation had gone as well as it did.

“Three hours?” JJ hissed at you when your dad took both of your duffle bags out of the car and stuck them in your parents’ trunk.

“It’s a long drive,” you offered innocently, “but at least you don’t have to drive.”

“Nope, just get to sit in the backseat.”

“J, at least you get a window seat, I’m sitting in the middle.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah and you’re going to fall asleep on me no more than 45 minutes in.”

“Slander,” you protested.

Your sister walked out in time to hear him and she laughed, “He’s right.”

“You can’t talk,” you argued, “you’re worse than me.”

“Twins,” she singsonged in a high pitched voice, and you rolled your eyes.

“Brought headphones for this ride thank god.”

“I can be louder than headphones,” she spoke confidently.

JJ let you climb in first before reaching across you to give your sister a fist bump, and you sighed, “I hate that you two know each other. Y’all are the worst together.”

He squeezed your thigh, “You love us.”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered.

You did fall asleep, but much to your satisfaction, so did JJ. Your sister woke you up first when you pulled into your grandma’s driveway, elbowing you straight in the ribs. Jolting, you woke up JJ immediately, and his head flew up from where it was resting on top of yours, looking around wildly.

“Christ,” you muttered, glaring at your sister, “that was rude as hell.”

“I got a cute picture of you two.”

You paused, “Okay, send it to me.”

JJ blinked adorably, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings, and mumbled, “Did we make it?”

“Yeah, bud,” you told him, grabbing his hand.

He smiled softly, maybe even a little thankfully, and took a deep breath, “Okay, let’s do this.”

“If it makes you feel better,” your sister leaned around you to talk to him, “you aren’t meeting the problematic side of our family until tomorrow.”

JJ paused for a second to process, then nodded, “That does actually, thank you.”

Before you could say anything else, JJ climbed out of the car, seemingly more awake, to help your dad carry in the bags and presents for his side of the family. Your dad nodded at him, a satisfied little smile on his face, “Thanks, son.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Together they carried them through the porch to where your grandma was waiting with the door open. Your sister muttered, “Kiss up,” under her breath, and you snorted.

“He’s trying to make a good impression on grandma and pawpaw, we both know that they’re super laid back and judge more based on conversational ability, but he doesn’t.”

She widened her eyes at you, “You didn’t tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him we were staying here until like five hours ago.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, “you’re actually a disaster.”

Your grandma cooked dinner, traditional Christmas dinner with the turkey and ham, macaroni and cheese, dressing, sweet potato casserole, and green beans. JJ was staring at it in confusion, arms stiffly by his side even though you knew he’d normally have an arm around your shoulder.

Leaning into his side a little, you told him, “We eat steak on the actual holiday here, that’s why it’s traditional early. You don’t have to look so scared, bud. I promise they’re super chill.”

“What does everyone want to drink?” your grandma asked before JJ could react.

“Water,” you answered, and JJ nodded, signalling the same.

“Guests first,” your pawpaw urged, and JJ hesitantly grabbed one of the plates in the stack to start filling it up. He was careful to not spill anything, and his grip on the plate was like steel. You reached over to pat his hand in some sort of effort to soothe him, and he relaxed the slightest bit.

Until he finished and walked over to the table where there were five spots for 10 people. You almost ran into his back, “J, what’s wrong.”

“Where do I sit,” he hissed, clearly anxious about it.

“Find a place with a glass of water and sit there. It’s not like assigned,” you answered, secretly hoping you could steer him toward the seat you normally sat in.

You did, and he sat down, not starting to eat right off the bat until he saw you dig in. It was slow, as if he was trying to wait for everyone to sit down, but you elbowed him until he picked up the pace.

“I’m trying to be polite,” he whispered.

“Trust me, you wanna hit the dessert before my dad.”

JJ snorted, finally relaxing a bit. Your grandma, cousin and his girlfriend, and sister sat down next and immediately started asking JJ questions about his major, his frat, his favorite hobbies, and what he wanted to do in the future.

That he’d gone through before, with your immediate family, and he had the answers on deck. He spoke confidently, and you could tell your grandma was impressed. It helped him relax, and by the time everyone moved to the living room to watch a Christmas movie before bed, he sat on the couch next to you and was even comfortable enough to put an arm around your shoulder.

When he left to get ready for bed in the one bathroom, your pawpaw finally spoke up, “He’s a good kid.”

“He’s the best,” you agreed.

“We got him a gift,” your aunt added, “so that he has something to open on Christmas Day.”

You teared up, knowing it would mean the world to him. JJ didn’t talk about his childhood much, especially holidays. You knew he had no interest in going home to his dad, and from what you did know, there was never much of a Christmas celebration involving gifts.

“Thank you guys so much,” you finally managed.

Immediately JJ went straight back into discomfort mode as soon as your family walked into your aunt’s house. Everyone was already there, and the small house felt stuffed.

You leaned close, “Party vibes, huh? Should be pretty familiar.”

He snorted, “Not even close.”

“This is the problematic side,” your sister reminded him, “they’ll definitely get in your business and you’re going to hear a ton of small town gossip.”

“ The gossip is pretty interesting,” you admitted, “but the yearly questioning isn’t the best.”

“How often do you see your family?” JJ asked.

“Christmas. And sometimes a trip during the summer.”

He hummed, and followed you and your sister deeper into the house. Your sister took over, introducing him to whoever you ran into on the way. You could hear your mom in the kitchen catching up with her sister, and your dad took his normal spot on the couch with your uncle and cousins.

JJ shook hands with your favorite cousin, who immediately started asking him questions.

“How’d you two meet?”

Glancing over at you, JJ cleared his throat, “We were in the same orientation group and became friends through that.”

He hummed, looking at the two of you skeptically before turning back to JJ, “Major?”

“Marine biology.”

“You fish?”

JJ nodded eagerly, finally in his element, “Definitely.”

“Saltwater or fresh?”

“Either, but back home mostly salt.”

Your cousin looked impressed, “Where are you from?”

“Outer Banks of North Carolina.”

“Sometime when it warms back up, you’ll have to come visit again and we’ll go fishing.”

“Looking forward to it.”

JJ relaxed, stretching back into the couch a bit while the conversation picked back up around him. Your cousins’ kids were in another room napping, and you leaned over to him, “We’re getting the gossip early while the kids sleep. Board games after lunch.”

And as you explained, your grandmother dove into the rumors she’d heard about the new pastor in town. She leaned forward and you knew it was going to be a particularly interesting take.

“And then we saw the preacher’s wife smoking a cigarette outside the movie theatre.”

Your sister dramatically gasped, “How dare she?”

You snorted, but your grandmother, used to ignoring both of you, kept on talking until she finally came back around and landed on your sister.

“Your sister has a boyfriend, when will you be bringing one for us to meet?” she asked.

“Well, whenever I can get a boy to like me, I guess.”

She looked at JJ, “Are you planning on marrying my granddaughter.”

He froze, staring at your grandmother with wide eyes, “We haven’t really, uh, talked about marriage.”

“Mhmm, yet here you are, at family Christmas.”

“Okay, grandmother,” you cut in, “he’s family, and you know family doesn’t have to be by blood or marriage. It can be friendship.”

“You love her?” your grandmother ignored you to ask.

JJ reached over and took your hand, meeting your grandmother’s eyes, “Of course.”

She nodded and backed off, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Turning back to your sister, she added, “I expect a boy to be at Christmas with you soon, young lady.”

“What if it’s a girl?” your sister asked, clearly trying to egg her on.

“I’ll take either at this point.”

Clapping your hand over your mouth, you held in a loud laugh at your sister’s indignant face, and your dad didn’t even try. JJ squeezed your hand and you looked over to see his eyes squinted, biting his lip, to hold in his laughs.

“Just wait until I never get married,” your sister crossed her arms with a huff.

“I’m going to murder you,” your uncle glared at you, “you better stop looking at my sheet.”

You scoffed, “Don’t put it in my eyesight then. Hold it up.”

“Just don’t cheat!” he exclaimed.

“Not cheating, just using my resources.”

And when he didn’t respond, you started crossing out the weapons on the sheet your uncle had just accidentally let you see. Your sister cleared her throat, “Well since he threatened her, Colonel Mustard is the killer and I’d like to make an accusation.”

“We started five minutes ago,” your cousin told her, “hush.”

She lunged forward and almost elbowed JJ’s empty gumbo bowl off the table.

“Hey,” your dad yelled, “relax.”

“No. I simply will not relax until you let me accuse.”

“Dude, you haven’t even had a turn yet,” you rolled your eyes

“I’ve been looking at mom’s card,” she admitted.

Your mom gasped, scooting away from her, “Cheater!”

“How’s it feel to raise two cheaters,” your uncle taunted your mom.

“Only at board games,” you added, looking over at JJ.

He smiled at you, clearly amused at everything unfolding. The game went on for 30 minutes before JJ eventually won it. Your sister glared at him, “Should’ve left you at Grandma’s.”

Reaching over to ruffle her hair, he teased, “Sore loser.”

“I’m keeping your gift.”

“You won’t.”

“I will. Better show some respect.”

“Respect is earned.”

Her jaw dropped and your mom snorted, “Give up now.”

Your sister, always needing the last word, “Watch out, new kid, you’re the replaceable one here.”

JJ leaned forward, elbows on the table to look into her narrowed eyes, “Until I propose.”

Cheeks heating, you stared at him in shock, and he moved back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Damn,” your dad coughed, “got her again.”

“Okay, any present marked JJ comes to me now,” she announced, “now that we’re family.”

Before anyone else could answer, one of the kids walked in holding a box, and your cousin stood, “Time for presents.”

JJ had a few, one from your parents, two from your grandmother, and a couple your cousins chipped in on. His eyes widened when he actually had a small pile, mostly gift cards, but he was still excited.

And at the end of the night, the five of you walked out to the car to drive back to your grandma’s house. Your dad looked at JJ over his shoulder, “You made it through. How’re you doing?”

“Pretty good.”

“Well, you got yourself a standing invitation.”

JJ’s smile was small but pleased as he stared at the window. You reached down to grab his hand and he squeezed in response. Right as you got to your grandma’s house, it hit midnight, and you leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

day 10 of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: visiting relatives

#sigma chi!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday #frat!jj

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bedlamsbard · 3 years

Text

Part 12 of the other side AU concept, the second epilogue sequence! At least one more sequence after this before I either start revising or just keep on going as concept writing.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

About 4.6K below the break.

***

Humidity made the rock of the cliff face slick against his fingers, forcing him to pay extra attention as he made his way up it. He clung to the seemingly sheer rock with his fingers and boot-toes stuck into grips too small for most humans to manage for more than a few meters, relying on the Force to keep him from falling. Heights had never bothered him, but he still didn’t look over his shoulder at the vast spread of jungle beneath him; he needed all his focus for the climb itself.

“Sure,” Ezra Bridger muttered, the words so soft that they were closer to being a thought than voiced, “ninety-nine percent of the time it’s ‘sit in this cell until we can think of something better to do with you,’ but it’s that one percent of ‘you’re a Jedi, please do this incredibly dangerous thing that no stormtrooper can pull off’ that gets you.”

The unfamiliar weight of both the sniper rifle and the pack slung across his back made the climb a little more awkward than he would have preferred, but he didn’t mind it. Going anywhere without a weapon right now would be a bad idea, not to mention the fact that he was still a little impressed that Captain Pellaeon had given him one at all. More than one, as it happened; he had a blaster pistol holstered at his hip and a couple of vibroknives secreted elsewhere around his person. Pellaeon didn’t know about the blades.

Despite the fact that the humidity was so thick that the growing fog was just short of being rain, Ezra couldn’t resent his current position. If he fell – and it wouldn’t take much – then not only would it be an ignominious end, but it was likely that no one back at Chimaera Camp would even notice his absence for a few days. If they did, Pellaeon would probably assume that he had made a break for it. It was an option that Ezra had considered and discarded given their current circumstance, but he was keeping it open if those circumstances happened to change. He knew roughly where they were in relation to the Chimaera’s crash site, but he was also aware that there was nothing space-worthy left on the star destroyer. Aside from the ships back at Chimaera Camp, there was only one other option to get offworld, and Ezra wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

It felt good to have his hands on the living stone of the planet, to feel fresh air – and yes, the fog – on his bare skin, to lick his lips and taste the slight tang of the moisture of a new world. He had spent nearly all of the previous six years on the Chimaera; the Force was everywhere, but it was different in space than it was planetside. After spending his entire life on Lothal, the months the Ghost had spent with Phoenix Squadron in deep space had been a shock to him. It had been at least a little preparation for all those years on the Chimaera.

This wasn’t Lothal, but he was still attuned to the Living Force and he could still feel the thread of wrongness that ran through it here. As far as they knew, this planet didn’t have a name, just the designation it had been given when they entered the star system; if it had an indigenous sentient species, they hadn’t run into them yet. Ezra had no way of knowing what the planet should have felt like in the Force, but he could tell that there was something badly wrong here and getting worse by the day.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself up over the top of the cliff with a grunt and crouched there, breathing hard, then took out his water flask and drank sparingly. The Chimaera’s scientists were monitoring the water in the stream that ran past Chimaera Camp and had found that its chemical content was changing by the day; Ezra had water purification tablets with him, but there was always the chance that whatever was leaching into the water table was wouldn’t be affected by the Imperial-issue tablets.

He put the flask back onto his pack and took the sniper rifle off his back, using the scope the same way he would have done a pair of macrobinoculars. The scope was the reason he hadn’t brought a pair of macrobinoculars; if he had to he could remove it from the rifle to use on its own, and he might need the weapon. While he had never been formally trained as a sniper the way that some of the stormtroopers and death troopers aboard the Chimaera had been, given the time needed to set up a sniper’s shot he could use the Force for nearly the same level of accuracy. If not, well, a sniper rifle was still a rifle – this one was reconfigurable, so Ezra could always break it down into an assault rifle or a heavy blaster pistol. While most death troopers used the BlasTech E11-D and DLT-19D that were standard issue, they often had the liberty to carry other weapons if desired, which was how Ezra had gotten his hands on the A280-CFE that was commonly used in the Rebel Alliance.

The view from the scope showed him only the seemingly impenetrable tree cover of the jungle he had come through. Ezra knew that there were a number of clearings in it, some large enough for a light cruiser like the Scylla or the Charybdis to put down in – and in fact the Seventh Fleet’s remaining cruisers were parked in two such – but even with the scope they were impossible to see. It had a range of five kilometers on a clear day, which this wasn’t; a heavy blanket of fog mixed with the tall native trees of the planet, turning the view beneath him into a grayish-green sea. With a sigh, he straightened up again. He kept the rifle in the curve of his arm rather than returning it to his back, wanting to have it quickly to hand if he needed it; the few seconds it would take to swing it around could cost him his life.

The jungle began again a few meters from the edge of the cliff. Ezra eyed it dubiously; having spent his entire life to the age of fifteen in grasslands he still found forests both disconcerting and distasteful. When he stretched out with the Force, though, he could feel the life within it – confused by the changes being wrought upon the planet, but still present. The wildlife, he knew, would be his first hint of real trouble.

Right now it told him that there was nothing to be concerned with except for the planet’s native dangers. Still, Ezra hesitated, looking at the edge of the jungle and fighting down his nerves. Annoyed by his own reluctance, he sank down into a tailor’s seat, resting the rifle across his knees. He fell quickly and easily into a light meditative trance; he had years of practice, after all. He didn’t let his attention roll out the way he had done when he had meditated the previous night at Chimaera Camp, but turned it inwards instead. He just wanted a few minutes to clear his head.

He was, he realized, afraid.

The fight on the Chimaera had been one thing, as had the handful of other skirmishes he had been involved in over the years, but this was the first time in more than six years that Ezra had been completely on his own, whether on an alien worlds or back on the Chimaera. If he had died then, at least Grand Admiral Thrawn and the other Imperials would have known, assuming the whole Chimaera hadn’t been destroyed at the same time. There was no real difference in being out here than there was being back with the Imperials, who had more reason to want him dead than anything else on this world and had come close a few times; Thrawn had twice had his own men shot over two such incidents. Ezra had scars from the attempt that had come closest to succeeding. On this world only Captain Pellaeon and a handful of other acquaintances – not quite friends – amongst the Chimaera’s complement really cared if he lived or died. Some days Ezra wasn’t entirely sure that he himself did.

Kanan had lived like this for years, Ezra reminded himself, and often in worse situations than this one after his entire world had died. So had Zeb. Ezra could do no less than either of them, and refused to fail them.

It hadn’t been left to him to make any decisions one way or another for a long time now – not the kind of decisions that actually mattered. He had been volunteered for this particular mission rather than volunteered himself, but hadn’t bothered to argue it even though others had. It was something to do, at least.

Years ago he had asked Captain Rex about the Clone Wars, which Kanan only ever talked about when forced or when he had been drinking, which wasn’t very often. The old clone had gone quiet, thinking about the question, and then said slowly, “When you go into battle – whether it’s a major push like Geonosis or a five man black ops mission – you go in understanding you’re already dead. You can’t be afraid of dying. You accept it – you take it inside of you.”

Rex hadn’t said whether or not he had learned that from the Jedi he had served with, but Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. He let that knowledge fill him now, the reminder that in the Force he was both living and dead at once, and even if he was still drawing breath now, it was a state that could change at any point. There was no point in being afraid of the unknown: what would happen would happen as the Force willed it. All he could do was the best that he knew how.

He opened his eyes and got to his feet, tucking the rifle against his shoulder as he went into the jungle.

It was slow going. The undergrowth seemed to be thicker up here than it was in the lowlands around Chimaera Camp. The tree cover was so thick that it blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving Ezra to pick his way through the jungle in greenish gloom, trying not to trip over creepers on the forest floor, which had leaf litter so thick that in places he sank into it up to his ankles, or hang himself on the vines that passed from tree to tree. Many of the tree trunks were so wide around that it would have taken a dozen men holding hands to encircle them. Nor was it silent. Animals – he saw avians and snakes, along with some kind of small red-scaled reptile and the quick flash of a furry mammalian tail vanishing up a tree – called out constantly. They weren’t much bothered by his passage, as animals usually weren’t, though more than once he heard them go quiet in response to some native predator passing through. He sensed disquiet among them even as they went about their normal routines; they were as aware of the changes happening on the planet’s surface as he was. More so; this was their home.

Mid-afternoon brought the downpour that Ezra had learned to expect after the past three days onworld. Rather than press on, he spent the time crouched on the upturned root of one massive tree, sheltering as best he could beneath leaves the size of his cell door back on the Chimaera. The rain seemed to come down in sheets, like a solid wall of water despite the fact that by the time it reached him it should have been disrupted by the tree canopy. Ezra managed not to get drenched this time – the first day he had gone out to stand in it, to the horror and disgust of the sailors assigned to guard him. Most members of the Imperial Navy hated and distrusted uncontrolled weather at best and planets entirely at worst. This time getting soaked would be a hindrance – and besides, it wouldn’t particularly aid his already slow passage. Ezra watched the rain fall from the dubious shelter of the tree and let his mind drift out in something that wasn’t quite a meditative trance – while most of the native wildlife had gone to shelter at the same time he had, it wasn’t a guarantee that the enemy would do so as well.

When the rain had passed and the sun had reappeared, Ezra recommenced his slow trek through the jungle. He hadn’t stayed completely dry in the downpour, but the scout trooper’s undersuit he wore was more or less waterproof; it still left him feeling uncomfortably like he had gone through a sanisteam in his clothes. He paused twice to eat, the tasteless emergency rations that stormtroopers carried as a matter of course, and once to refill his water flask at a stream after he had tested the water with the Force and decided he didn’t need to use one of the water purification tablets. By the time that dusk fell, casting the jungle into even further gloom, Ezra had, he guessed, advanced within a kilometer or two of his goal.

The advent of darkness slowed his progress even further. He took out the night vision goggles he had gotten from the Chimaera’s death trooper captain – promoted from the ranks two years ago after the remaining death trooper officers had died – and put them on, blinking as the shadows of the jungle resolved into only moderately more penetrable shades of green. While he had a glowrod, using it would be just as good as sending up a beacon, not something he wanted. He could have passed through the jungle without needing to see at all, except that would leave him vulnerable to something he wouldn’t have thought possible six years earlier.

By the time he sensed the final setting of the sun sometime later, the jungle had been the next thing to pitch-black for more than an hour. Ezra was silently arguing himself out of trying to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours when he felt the nearby animal life go silent, then recommence its noisy outcry. The negation and recommencement of sound shifted in his awareness of the Living Force, and he swore wearily to himself.

Something was coming towards him.

He settled the rifle more closely against his shoulder and touched a finger to the night vision goggles, making certain that they were as firmly affixed to his face as possible. He had learned the hard way that what was coming left no trace in the Force – not of itself, at least.

Ezra could have gone up a tree, but he was city born and bred and could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had actually tried to climb a tree. Even in this unfamiliar environment he felt far more comfortable on the ground that he would have perched on a branch – he was sure he could get up to one, but not positive that he could stay there, a hesitation he would never have had on a cliff edge or a high-rise. He was absolutely certain that trying to fight on one would end with him flat on his back on the ground, and that was a best case scenario.

Instead he settled himself in the soldier’s stance he had learned from Rex, letting the rifle rest loosely against his shoulder as he let his awareness spread out. Animals, frightened by the alien sight and scent of the intruders, fled their approach; plants flinched away from the heavy tread of feet. Ezra felt them come closer and closer – a near-silent passage to anyone but a Jedi. The air felt close and heavy around him, the night sounds of the wildlife vanished into stillness or flight. Ezra let his mind fill with the blazing clarity of the Force, until in every way that mattered Ezra was the Force itself. The Jedi were the sword hand of the Force, Kanan had said more than once; with or without a lightsaber Ezra was still a Jedi.

He fired even before he saw the flicker of movement in his night vision goggles.

The crack of the blaster shot broke the stillness of the night air, sparks flaring at the laser bolt struck armor it couldn’t penetrate. Ezra threw himself sideways, feeling the rush of air as the thrown thudbug just missed his previous position. He rolled and came up on one knee as he fired again, twice in quick unison, relying on instinct rather than the little his vision showed him. He got one more shot off and then had to reverse his grip on the rifle, slamming it upwards two-handed to block the amphistaff blow aimed at his head. Quick as the serpent it resembled, the amphistaff lost its staff form and lashed out, its jaws gaping wide. Hissing, it spat poison at his eyes.

The night vision goggles cracked as the poison struck. His vision blurring – knowing he had only seconds before they broke entirely or the poison dripped down onto his skin – Ezra thrust out with the Force. The amphistaff’s bearer didn’t release the living weapon, but his arm and the amphistaff both swung wide, away from Ezra as he threw himself into a backflip, ripping the night vision goggles off as he did and letting them fall.

Darkness closed over him.

He pulled the rifle back to his shoulder and fired again; once more, sparks briefly illuminated his enemy as his shot struck uselessly off armor. Then the warrior was on him; Ezra swung the rifle like a club, feeling it connect with his enemy’s skull. Undaunted, the warrior lashed the amphistaff like a whip; the serpent slashed down across the barrel of the rifle, cutting the weapon in two.

Ezra didn’t hesitate, just flung the remaining half of the rifle at his opponent even as he flung himself sideways again, avoiding the amphistaff’s attempt to get its teeth into his throat. He twisted and came up with his blaster pistol, firing as fast as he could pull the trigger – a steady stream of blaster bolts, nearly all of which sparked uselessly off vonduun crab armor. Only one penetrated between the joints of the armor, making his opponent grunt in pain. His ears ringing from the blasterfire, Ezra thought he heard it echo oddly in the jungle, but he was already moving, grabbing one of his vibroknives with his left hand and slashing backhanded in the same motion. With the Force behind it, the vibroknife cut through the amphistaff in the vulnerable place just below the head. Halfway through the blade stopped, jammed against the creature’s seemingly indestructible internal structure. It thrashed in the warrior’s hand.

It couldn’t cry out, but he could. Ezra could neither understand the words nor sense the emotions that underlay them, but he released the vibroknife and got both hands on the grip of his blaster again, firing at the place he thought he had seen a vulnerable point between helmet and breast plate.

The blaster jammed.

Oh, karabast, Ezra thought – he didn’t have time to voice the words before his opponent’s free hand shot out and closed around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, armored fingers like durasteel cutting off his breath. The blaster fell to the ground as he clawed at that implacable arm, fingers scrabbling over the plates of living armor that covered his opponent’s forearm. He felt it twitch beneath his fingers, lending its strength to the enemy.

His opponent snarled something in his native language, his fingers tightening. Ezra reached for the Force as his vision started to gray out, knowing that if he wasn’t dead yet then it was because the enemy intended to take him alive. After enough suffering to make up for the death of his amphistaff.

Light flicked out like a whip, coiling around the warrior’s body.

Ezra had just enough time to feel astonishment before the brief flash of a jetpack’s repulsors heralded the being who slammed feet-first into the warrior, knocking him sideways. He dropped Ezra, turning to grapple with this new adversary as the glowing line of energized whipcord vanished. Ezra hit the ground, gasping for air but already reaching for another of his sheathed vibroblades.

Even now his enemy was absent from the Force, but the new arrival wasn’t. Ezra didn’t bother to think, just drew his vibroknife, thumbed the switch on, and waited – with his amphistaff dead, or at least out of commission, the warrior was left with only whatever razorbugs or thudbugs he was carrying and his dagger-like coufee. He heard the living weapon scrape against – or possibly through – what could only be beskar, and a grunt of surprise. The brief burst of a short-distance repulsor sent the warrior stumbling back a step and Ezra struck in his moment of confusion, slamming his vibroknife up beneath the skirt plates of his armor to the vulnerable place on the inside of his thigh where most humanoids had a major vein. He felt the weapon dig in and dragged it down as far as he could before the warrior cuffed him aside, sending Ezra flying to strike a tree.

He hit hard enough to black out for an instant, but was dragging himself upright as soon as he could, reaching for his fallen blaster through the Force. The grip smacked into his palm hard enough to hopefully displace the jam and he raised it, aiming at the spot he thought the enemy was.

There was a blaster shot, not his, and in its flash he saw the warrior on his back in the undergrowth. It also illuminated the injured amphistaff making its way like a sidewinder through the leaf cover, with Ezra’s vibroknife still stuck into its neck.

Even as the flash faded Ezra fired. His own shot wasn’t aimed at the creature, but at the hilt of the vibroknife, slamming the weapon those last few precious centimeters forward to sever head from body. Ezra heard it thrash briefly, dying, and then there was silence.

He would have liked nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week, but he braced himself against the tree with his free hand and kept the blaster in his other hand. His head was pounding; he knew he’d have bruises the next time he looked, to go with the bruises he still had from the Chimaera’s final battle and crash.

“Who –” He coughed as his abraded throat protested. “Who’s that?”

Light sprang into being, the thin artificial life of a glowrod illuminating the Mandalorian woman standing by the warrior’s corpse. After four years living with one, Ezra was hardly going to forget that particular silhouette. His gaze traversed the slopes of painted beskar armor, noting the fresh scars on it from the coufee blade before settling on the helmet before the woman reached up to remove it.

“Ezra?”

He stared. Then he tried to take a step backwards and couldn’t, his shoulders already braced against the tree trunk. His mind didn’t seem to want to come to terms with what was in front of him, even as he lowered the hand with the blaster in it. He slumped back against the tree, letting it take more of his weight.

“Hey!” She crossed the space between them with a few quick steps and grabbed his shoulder, her grip solidly human and real. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

Ezra reached up and closed his free hand around her forearm, staring into her face. “I’m not going to pass out,” he said. “They usually patrol in threes –”

“Yeah, we met the other two. They’re dead. You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said, or tried to say, but was already folding up. He sat heavily, belatedly holstering the pistol he was still holding. “You changed your hair,” he said inanely.

“Yeah, I do that,” Sabine Wren said. “So did you.”

Ezra touched a hand self-consciously to what remained of his hair – long on top and pulled into a tail wrapped with strips of thin leather, close cut at the sides, because he had spent the past six years with sailors and stormtroopers who thought a buzzcut was the height of fashion. He stopped with his fingers hooked through a strip of leather, stared at Sabine, and felt himself start to shake. “You’re real,” he croaked, even though the Force had already told him the answer. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand still on his shoulder. “I’m really here. We’re all really here.”

When he looked up again, he felt as much as saw them ghosting out of the shadows at the edge of the glowrod’s illumination like the spectres they had been named for. Ezra was too tired and overwhelmed for further disbelief; he pushed himself to his feet with Sabine’s help and stumbled into Kanan’s arms.

“I felt –” he said shakily, his voice muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in the other man’s shoulder. He fisted his hands hard against Kanan’s back, aware of how gloriously alive he felt. “– in the Force, I felt something change, six months ago. I felt you come back.”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, his voice gentle. “Yeah, Ezra, it’s me.”

Hera put a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and Ezra turned into her embrace, then Zeb’s. He was shaking so badly that Zeb had to help him to a seat on an upraised tree root, one hand folded over his shoulder as though he couldn’t bear to let Ezra out of his grasp. He wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t hallucinating – that he hadn’t been taken captive after all and this was some new torture. Then he looked at Kanan’s calm white eyes and touched the Force again, gingerly, like prodding a sore tooth, and knew it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re going to explain that,” he said, a little wildly. “You were – I thought – I saw – I felt –”

“Yeah,” Kanan said again. “It’s a long story.”

Meaning not now. Ezra took a shaky breath and leaned back into Zeb’s reassuring grip, watching Sabine crouch to inspect the fallen warrior. She touched the scratches on her breast plate gingerly, then her eyes widened as a hand-size piece of beskar broke off in her hand – the coufee had cut nearly through it and the slight pressure of her touch had freed it. “What are these things?” she demanded.

Ezra sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Long story.”

“We saw the Chimaera,” Hera said, sitting down on his other side. She kept her blaster in her hand, resting across her knee, which under the circumstances Ezra thought was the wisest thing she could have done. “We were on our way to the rendezvous coordinates when Kanan sensed you, but we had to find somewhere safe to put down. Chopper’s with the Ghost about two kilometers away.”

Ezra rubbed his hand across his face. “They’re from beyond the Unknown Regions – beyond our galaxy, maybe – and they’ve been making a push towards the Empire since it was still the Republic,” he said. “They’ve been tracking the Chimaera and the rest of the Seventh for months – years – and finally cornered her here. They’re warriors – shapers, they call themselves; everything they use is organic, alive – their armor, their weapons, their ships.” He nodded at the warrior’s corpse and the dead amphistaff beside him. “They’re called the Yuuzhan Vong.”

#this one was the chapter I wrote to the same song on repeat #cut scenes and concept writing #other side au tag #as always comments are appreciated

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