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toasty-coconut · 3 months ago

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I wanted to put together some thoughts that I have regarding the passage of time in Pokemon Horizons. I'm a writer by nature who likes to pick out tiny details and examine them to the fullest. Horizons has thrown hints at us multiple times to suggest that time has been passing within the series. And now with a solidly defined time skip having happened, I thought it would be fun to look back and piece together how much time has passed until now!

Before I do that though, I want to preface with a few things:

All of this is purely speculation based on loose evidence provided to us throughout the series. I'm not claiming anything I say as definitive fact. This is merely for fun. Everything I say could be completely wrong.

The passage of time in the Pokemon anime is a tricky topic. After all, time "passed" in Ash's series without ever really passing; weeks or months would be stated to have gone by, but Ash himself was explicitly stated to be forever-10-years-old and on an eternal summer vacation. Despite that, growth and the passage of time seem to be important themes at the base of Horizons (i.e. the 100-year tale of Lucius, the generational parallels between Amethio and Liko and their ancestors, how time has impacted Gibeon, etc.). These themes weren't relevant in Ash's series (at least, not in the same way), which is why time was never a focus. That's not true of Horizons though, and that's why I think it's at least worth discussing.

I understand that the characters don't seem to grow/mature much physically throughout the series—even after the time skip. Realistically, if a significant amount of time has passed then the characters should be physically aging more than they are. My argument to that is that this is a long-running anime that's ultimately a marketing tool for the most successful multi-media franchise in the world. They likely want to keep character designs consistent for as long as possible so they can market them on products, goods, and in advertising. If their designs gradually changed every 20 episodes or so to signify physical growth, that would be much harder to accomplish.

With those things in mind, let's get to it! Note: This post is very long and contains spoilers for Pokemon Horizons episodes 001 - 089!

I want to start by addressing Liko's age, because that's what we'll be using as a base for this rough timeline. The tera leaks that came out regarding the development of Horizons stated that Liko was meant to be 13-years-old. I take most things in the tera leaks with a grain of salt; however, I'm going to agree that I do think Liko is meant to be 13 at the start of her journey. My reasoning for that is I believe Indigo Academy is meant to be the equivalent of a Japanese middle school (grades 7, 8, and 9). The average Japanese 7th grader is 12 going on 13. The average Japanese 8th grader is 13 going on 14. And the average Japanese 9th grader is 14 going on 15. (While I understand Liko herself is Paldean, it's stated Indigo Academy is within Kanto--a Japan-based region).

If Liko is 13 then she fits squarely within the box of being a first-year middle schooler. This lines up with Liko being a new student at her school and attending an entrance ceremony with the rest of her class.

Note that everyone at the entrance ceremony is wearing a leaf pin on their uniform. This is probably an indicator that they're all in the same graduating class (everyone in Liko's classroom is also wearing a grass pin). We also see students with fire pins walking around the academy, and as a result we can assume there are students wearing water pins around somewhere, too (though we never see them). I'm going to guess the fire pin students are the second-year students, while the water pin students are the third-year students (following the Poke Dex starter pattern of grass = 1, fire = 2, and water = 3) . It's common practice in Japanese schools for uniforms to have class indicators on them, so this makes sense. Typically they'll change with each year; however, Liko still has the grass pin even after the time skip. Because of that, we can assume the pins are cycled out with each graduating class (meaning, when the current third years graduate, the new incoming first-years will become the "water" class, while the "grass" class becomes second-years, and the "fire" class becomes third years, etc.).

Now that we've established Liko is a first year middle schooler, let's get back to the timeline. The traditional Japanese school year begins on April 1st. With that knowledge, we can assume that the start of episode 1 happens on April 1st of Year 1 of Liko's journey. Going forward, I'm going to be referring to sections of this timeline as "Year 1", "Year 2", and "Year 3", with each year spanning from April to March to reflect the Japanese school year (rather than January to December).

In the first episode, we see Liko arrive at her new school, attend an entrance ceremony, go to class, receive Sprigatito, bond/train with Sprigatito, and then ultimately get confronted by Amethio at the end of the episode after Ann leaves for break. Within this episode alone, there is already a notable time jump. I believe episode 1 starts on April 1st of Year 1 and then ends around July 20th of Year 1. Ann going home for break mid-episode is the giveaway for me. The first extended break in the Japanese school year typically starts around July 20th and ends around September 1st (about six weeks).

A quick aside: I want to caveat all of this by saying if Liko is the equivalent of a first-year middle-schooler, then she would have needed to start the school year at the age of 12. We've already established that she's 13 though, and I personally believe she's meant to be 13 at the start of her journey with the Rising Volt Tacklers. That being said, I'm going to say that Liko is 12-years-old at the start of episode 1, but is 13-years-old by the end of episode 1. That would mean she celebrated her 13th birthday at some point between April 1st and July 20th of Year 1. Take that as you will! My personal headcanon is that her birthday is on April 14th (the day Horizons aired for the first time ❤️). That being said, that's just my personal opinion. Liko's age/when exactly she turns 13 doesn't matter too much.

Back to our timeline - something else of note happens around July of Year 1: Hamber reaching out to Diana. While there's no definitive proof that this absolutely happened in July of Year 1, we can assume it most likely did. We know that Diana was immediately suspicious of Hamber and she knew that he wanted her pendant, which was already in possession of Liko at that point. We also know she reached out to Lucca, who then reached out to Friede to bring Liko home. I can't imagine why Diana would wait to tell Lucca that Liko was in danger, nor can I imagine why Lucca would wait to reach out to Friede to protect Liko. That's why I believe Hamber reaching out to Diana couldn't have happened any more than a week or so before Liko's first confrontation with Amethio.

With all of that in mind, we know Amethio showed up at Indigo Academy under Hamber's orders on the same day that Ann left for summer break. Friede came to rescue Liko that same evening, and took her aboard the Brave Olivine. Liko herself even says in HZ074 that this event marked "the start of her adventures". So we can fairly conclusively put this event as happening right around July 20th of Year 1.

After boarding the Brave Olivine for the first time, Liko experiences a small stint with the Explorers before the Rising Volt Tacklers ultimately stop at Roy's island. The black Rayquaza emerges from the Ancient Poke Ball and Roy joins the crew. We don't have anything to indicate how much time has passed again for a while. That being said, I'm going to assume that approximately six weeks pass between the end of HZ001 and HZ008, putting us at around September of Year 1. My only reason for saying that is because HZ008 is the first time where we see Liko taking classes again, which would indicate that her summer break is over.

It is worth noting that we do see Roy taking classes remotely in HZ004. That being said, HZ004 seems to happen relatively close to the start of Liko's summer break, so we could assume Roy's summer break hasn't started yet. Alternatively, we could assume the school he attends doesn't follow the standard schedule that Liko's seems to. It honestly doesn't matter too much considering it's the only time we see Roy actively taking classes. I just thought it was worth noting.

Back to the point - the next time the passage of time is mentioned is in HZ024, when Liko and co. meet up with Diana. During their meet-up, Diana claims that she met up with Hamber "a couple of months back". It's not a very clear indicator of the exact amount of time that's gone by, but we at least know Liko's journey began a couple of months prior. "A couple months" doesn't imply a significant amount of time, though. That's why I think we can assume this episode happens somewhere around the October/November mark of Year 1, meaning approximately 3-4 months have gone by since the start of Liko's journey.

It's going to be a while before we get any super clear mentions of time again, but I like to think we can use context clues to fill in some of the blanks before then and get a rough idea of when things happen. Liko, Roy, and Dot enroll in Naranja Academy and start undergoing tera training in HZ046. While there's no definitive evidence, I'd like to think that they're starting this training at the beginning of the school's winter trimester. I think we can back this theory up with the evidence of Ann, Coral, and Sidian (and seemingly other background characters) all starting the course at the same time, too. So many trainers starting together makes me think it must be the start of a new trimester.

If true, then I think we can say Liko was on her winter break between HZ045 and HZ046. There does seem to be a small gap in time between those two episodes, so I feel like that would make sense. She probably spent that time (about a week or two) at home with her parents. It would also mean that HZ046 (and thus, the start of Arc III) takes place in early January of Year 1. It's also worth noting that Liko's mother states she seems to have gotten taller at the start of HZ046! (Her character model seems the same to me though, tbh lol But it is a cool indicator that she's growing and time has been moving.)

If we follow the logic that Arc III takes up an entire school trimester, then that would mean HZ046 through HZ067 happen from the beginning of January to the end of March of Year 1. The arc itself breaks time up pretty nicely for us, too. I we assume the tag battles against the Elite 4 are the equivalent of a mid-term exam, then we can place HZ054 and HZ055 at around mid-February of Year 1. Likewise, if we consider the trainer battles at the end of the arc to be the equivalent of a final exam, then that means HZ066 and HZ067 happen in late March of Year 1.

With that being said, that means that HZ067 marks the end of Year 1 of Liko's journey. I feel like it's a pretty appropriate end to her first year as a trainer. It goes off with a bang in her battle against Roy and is ultimately an accumulation of everything that she learned in that year. It's poetic in a lot of ways. Plus, as a writer, I like when things bookend nicely like that haha

That brings us into Year 2 at the start of Arc IV (in other words, the start of Liko's second year of middle school). This arc is a little weird because a lot happens in a relatively short span of time. The first mention we get of time passing is in HZ074 when Diana visits the Brave Olivine. During her visit, Diana clearly states that it has been one year since her last meet-up with Hamber. That's noticeably different from the couple of months that she mentioned before!

This means it has now officially been one year since Liko set off on her adventures with the Rising Volt Tacklers. That puts HZ074 at July of Year 2. That also means HZ068 - HZ074 happened over a span of approximately three months. That certainly feels like a lot, though I suppose they did travel a fair amount in that time.

It's a little bit difficult to tell how much time passes between HZ074 and HZ084, but I would imagine at least a month or so. That would put the climax at Laqua around August or September of Year 2. HZ084 through HZ089 happen over a span of approximately 48 hours, with there ultimately being a one-year time skip at the very end.

It's worth noting that the time skip is said to have happened one year after the events at Laqua. So, with that in mind, that puts the beginning of Arc V around August/September of Year 3.

I think that breaks down... pretty much everything haha I don't have any spectacular thoughts to end on, so I'm not sure how to wrap this up. But I do want to add that I find it interesting that when you combine the time Liko spent traveling with the Rising Volt Tacklers along with the time skip, that would mean two years have now passed since the events of HZ001. It's very likely that the remainder of the story will happen over the course of another year, making for a grand total of three years. Also, if you subscribe to the belief that Liko is 13 at the start of her journey, then that means she was 14 during the events at Laqua, is 15 post-time skip, and will probably be 16 at the end of the series.

Not only would Liko's journey lasting for three years align with the viewers watching the series for approximately three years, but it would also be reflective of the three-year middle school experience. So, at the end of her journey, Liko and the viewer will be "graduating" from the series, essentially. I Just Think That's Neat.

#anipoke #pokeani #pokemon horizons #pokemon hz #my headcanons

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chronically-ghosted · 2 years ago

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in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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imjustavenuxwithaboomerang · 1 year ago

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finished the eps so here's some zombies lore and tidbits from the re-animated series:

bonzo and willa have the same shoe size (10 3/4 in men's and 12 3/4 in women's)

bucky loves cool frogs and hates all dogs (except for barky)

willa has been wearing the same boots every day because she became the alpha of their pack while wearing them (they are now destroyed)

bree runs the lost and found department and addison is her secretary

seabrook high has a drama department, a marching band, a water polo team, and a clown club

there are zed, addison, and eliza clones living in a neighboring town

there are alien-specific classes led by a computer robot in the mothership

zed has physical cards with drawings of him and eliza that act as "best friend cards"

bonzo was born on january 28th in 2007

zed and addison regularly use whiteboards to plan stuff

zed has a habit of smooth-talking his way out of and into things (including, but not limited to, getting extra food from lunch ladies, convincing eliza and addie to do things with/for him, and convincing a possessed dae to hold off on destroying the world)

there is a sentient blob that attends seabrook high

bonzo works at bree's family's diner which is called grammykin's griddle

wyatt's a february pisces and eliza is a virgo

the werewolves celebrate numerous meat-themed holidays like porksgiving, beefapalooza, and vealentine's day

werewolves also have a great meat hunt that involves one werewolf being picked to hunt an unchecked apex predator in the woods and bring it back for the pack to eat

there are now zombie dogs due to another soda incident

principal lee has a sister who is pregnant (or has a very young baby)

wynter has an uncle named uncle wolfchowski

zed's favorite color is decomp green with light saturation

coach used to be best friends with the solstice slasher that haunts the woods

zombie strength can hold back a moving car

there are many pet sitting services in seabrook (some names include waggedy ann's, be on all four seasons, and harry poopins)

eliza created their universe's version of tik tok called shrimp tok

addison can't wink

moonstone necklaces were first created by a werewolf named wilhelmina lykenlolly

werewolves and sasquatches are century long enemies

eliza and wyatt are vegetarians

zed, wyatt, bree, and eliza play dungeons and dragons together and zed runs the campaign (zoey now also plays with them by the end of the episode)

aliens hatch out of spotted eggs and have a hatch-uation

a-spen is mothership's favorite alien

part 2 part 3

#probably forgot some things but i kept forgetting that i was making this as i was watching #i don't know just how canon all of this is because i'm pretty sure this takes place in whole nother dimension #BUT i'm making this list so obviously i don't care that much #i unfortunately do not remember every episode these came from most yes all no #i love love love this series #zed necrodopolis #addison wells #bonzo zambi #willa lykensen #wyatt lykensen #eliza zambi #wynter barkowitz #bonzo zombies #bree zombies #zombies bree #bree prattle #bucky buchanan #a-spen #principal lee #dae zombies #zombies dae #zoey necrodopolis #zombies #disney zombies #zombies re animated #zombies the re animated series #zombies: the re animated series #coach zombies #i added very young baby because you can still have baby shower after the baby is born but most don't obvi

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mydearestbeloved · 7 months ago

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okay, you said illusion is part of reader's arsenal so i think it would be cool if she has an AOE skill where she creates a fragrant field of flowers that heals and buffs allies but any enemies that step into the field will be teleport back to the other side before they can cross over it, kinda like a never ending loop? samsara? the cycle of life and birth? (i was inspired seeing shu arknights skill set)

?System¿: [Under review. Ideas considered for future versions.]

Interesting idea you got there. 🤩

You might notice by now that I love giving some logics behind what was supposed to be pure magic, if I can. That's one of my ways to make this story concept a bit more distinct than the others, and also a way for me to fit in the original narratives. Because as far as I know, from spoilers of the webnovel/novel and game, and from the webtoon/manhwa and anime, the mechanics of healer class hunter's power is not widely explained and developed. It's like filling in the gaps/plotholes with what-ifs and all that. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. 🙏

So, let me clarify a few things about the current Reader's powers as of now (12/11/2024):

For AOE heals, buffs, and even enemies debuffs, Reader's butterflies already got that covered.

The butterflies' main power is inspired by the very nature of butterflies in real life, pollination. While they might not be as effective as bees in that regard, they still feed on flowers' nectar (enemies' lifeforce). When they do this, their bodies collect pollen (excess energy) and carry it to other plants (allies) to help produce new seeds (in the form of heals and buffs).

The reason I also choose butterflies instead of bees are for their physical appearance. Hear me out first before anyone could get mad.

I'm not saying that I chose butterflies purely because of their aesthetics, over the effectiveness of bees. What I'm trying to say is that bees' have visible stinger, butterflies don't. This fact plays part in the Reader's vibe of being beautiful but deadly. Illusions is one of the reasons we perceive something that were actually dangerous as harmless, it tricked us into thinking that something so pleasing to the eyes couldn't possible hurt us, yet reality says otherwise. As the saying goes, "Don't let the looks fool you."

Now onto the 'field of flowers' concept in what is as of currently the latest drafted chapter of my Trial Player AU.

Plants in general absorb carbondioxide (mana, or other versions of it, like the contaminated ones) and produce oxygen (lifeforce) in exchange.

Additionally, in my story, the concept applied is that living beings continuously produce their own mana while they're alive. If they're freshly dead, there will only be residue mana from being alive just moments prior, limited and will be dispersed into the atmosphere as time goes on.

To simplify: 'Lifeforce' is the essence of mana. Being alive automatically produce mana, hence taking just a small amount of 'lifeforce' sourced from living beings can be converted to an abundant amount of mana. However, while Reader can still take back a mana's essence with the flower field, the field needs to take a larger amount of mana (CO2) just to produce smaller amount of 'lifeforce' (O2) to then be used by the butterflies (conduits) in a cycle and for Reader herself.

Hence the scenes in my Trial Player AU rendition of Solo Leveling's Demon Castle Arc. The land are roaming with demons and the undeads, perfect for the flower field. Though there's a catch that I can't fully explain for now, the 'contaminated' mana of the creatures there. The current Jinwoo in the manhwa can't extract Metus' shadow for exactly that reason, and while Reader was still able to use that mana, the contamination in it will have an effect on her, as shown briefly at the end of the chapter.

Last but not least, your Samsara cycle idea.

Awesome idea actually, one I want to ask for your permission to incorporate this concept in the future since you're the one who brought it up. 🙏

As of you know now, the current Reader's power is limited. To use that idea of yours now would be to imply that Reader could've reversed wounds to heal instead of accelerating cells (or other automatic biological processes) and subsequently trigger <Decay> if too much was sped up.

The current her was already struggling with <Erode>, a spell that supposedly accelerate weathering (not an automatic process) that needs outer factors like water, air, sunlight, or the help of living organisms, in which she managed to substitue them with applying more mana, hence the cost, time, and focus she needs to use the spell.

To simplify, to reverse a wound would be to reverse the cause of that very wound, hence dominion over space is also required, not just time. To make a 'Samsara Cycle' as you described needed the same power of space and time. A limitation for the current Reader...

For now. 🤫😉

---

That's all I can say for now regarding your ask. Hopefully, this was a satisfactory answer.

Thank you, for reading my stories, for your ideas, and for giving me the opportunity to share my own ideas. 💞

#Hollow's Talks #Trial Player AU #solo leveling #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #only i level up #fanfic #fanfiction #solo leveling fanfic #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

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thesquid06 · 2 months ago

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Some cheesy head cannons for the kotlc next gen

Sokeefe’s kid(s):

Calla Jolie Foster (13)

She’s tall with ice blue eyes and blond hair.

Extremely powerful Empath, polyglot. Feels extremely inferior compared to the rest of her family. If it wasn’t for her last name, people would assume she’s a regular elf.

Natural born leader

Studies nonstop to get good grades

Photographic memory

Natalie Loki Foster (11)

Short with brown eyes and blond hair.

Descryer, Teleporter, Enhancer, Polyglot

Lives up to her middle name, is always skipping class, not studying, and still makes good grades.

Photographic memory

Dexiana’s kid(s):

Winter Rex Dizznee (12)

Red hair and teal eyes.

Froster

LOVES animals. When he was younger he dragged around his pet tomple (dyed insane colors of course) and talked to him all the time. Even used the tomple to have conversations with others.

Needs to protect his siblings at all costs

Biana’s gossip buddy. Was swearing far too early in life.

Willow Juline Dizznee (12)

Red hair and teal eyes.

Technopath (has said all her life she wished to be a technopath like her dad)

Doesn’t care much about her appearance so she usually wears twin braids that Biana does in the morning.

Gets in physical fights at school whenever anyone makes fun of her brothers.

Always steals Dex’s tools

Zerend (Zed) Fitzroy Dizznee (12)

Brown hair and periwinkle eyes (other than the eyes, looks very similar to Fitz. It drives Dex insane)

No abilities

Fashion expert.

Amazing with alchemy, spends his free time working at Slurps and Burps.

Could sleep through anything.

Marelinh’s kid(s):

Kendra Eve Redek (13)

Dark skin, black hair, and navy eyes.

Pyrokinetic

She manifested really young and was abandon by her family who thought she was too dangerous. Was adopted by Marella and Linh.

Personally tutored by Marella at Foxfire.

Looks up to Hana an insane amount.

Tam’s kid(s):

Hana Linh Song (18)

Looks like the female version of Tam but dyes her hair funky colors.

Beguiler

When he was still figuring out his sexuality (tam is gay btw) he had Hana. Tam has full custody.

ALWAYS forced to be the group babysitter.

Literally will not leave her house without her leather jacket.

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lightlessons · 7 months ago

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How to Read 108: A Chapter-by-Chapter Death Note Analysis

Hello everyone!! Welcome to my revived Death Note blog. I recently had the opportunity to rewatch the anime (twice) and fell back into my old obsession, so I thought I’d re-read the manga with a more critical eye and share some of my own thoughts as I go for anyone craving more meta and analysis from one of my favorite pieces of media ever.

Mainly I will concentrate myself on analyzing dialogue, narration techniques and characterization, since that’s what I mainly take note of when I consume anything, but I will also try my hand at doing some research on contextual information and artistic choices, dividing my analysis chapter by chapter. Something to keep in mind is that this analysis is fully made for people who have completed the manga in its entirety and will be riddled with spoilers for further chapters. Sometimes I will break down a chapter analysis into two parts, like in the present case.

Without further ado, let’s go!

Chapter 1: Boredom. Lilith’s Breakdown. Part 1

Key takeaways:

Themes and Parallels: Ryuk and Light

The main antagonistic forces in the story.

Themes and Parallels: Ryuk and Light

We begin our story and the very first thing we are presented with is a parallel between two worlds: The Realm of the Shinigami and our own Human world. Through the juxtaposed dialogues of our initial characters, this exposition directly links their character motivation and narrative arcs. They have a common problem: Their worlds are rotting, and every day seems like and endless, tired routine for them both.

It’s interesting to note the artistic choices to depict this sense of forlornness. We have to keep in mind that Death Note is a Shonen and aimed at young boys from ages 12 to 18, so what better scenario to mirror a dour fictional realm than a packed middle of the day class where all kids wear the same uniform and very few, in any, seem to have any interest on what’s going on in front of them. If you look very closely to all the students in this picture, none of them are actually looking towards whoever is giving this lecture, in the same way that Shinigami are not interested in doing their task.

Light and Ryuk are both non-conformists in their respective realities. Creatures who stand out from the crowd and who, by their acute awareness of what’s wrong in their world, feel boredom more deeply and painfully than the rest. Ryuk is not a shining being of intelligence like Light is, but we will see throughout the story that he’s a pretty self-aware and insightful Shinigami, when compared to every other that we meet.

Ryuk as a choric narrator

In classical Japanese Noh Theater, there is a figure called the jiutai (地謡), sitting at the outskirts of the main plot happening on center stage, they serve as the chorus that helps narrate parts of the story, reveal inner thoughts and emotions of characters, and offer reflections of the unfolding events, much like the classical Chorus in a Greek Tragedy. They, however, do not affect the narrative and serve more as a mediating connection between play and audience.

Although Ryuk’s role is certainly not confined to a mere commentator, seeing as he is the one who instigates the main narrative (and eventually ends it), Ryuk’s status of not only a God, but an apathetic one who is barely physically or emotionally affected by the events of the story, gives him a role above and separate from any of the other characters’.

Clad in skin-tight dark bodysuit meant to highlight his monstruous, lifeless appearance, gothic accessories consisting on spikes, chains and skulls, black, tattered wings and feather accents, Ryuk immediately gives the appearance of a preternatural, terrible bird of death. However, the face paint-like make-up, unmovable grin and feathers reminiscent of a medieval suit also give the impression of a clown or a jester, which Obata, Death Note’s artist, will expertly use to his advantage depending on the role Ryuk will take on at each present moment.

This is Ryuk’s dual nature in the narrative: he is there as an ironic chorus, laughing at every tragedy and obstacle the characters and the world faces, providing comic relief, and breaking the tension in a rather grim and suspenseful story, but he is also there as the Grim Reaper, a constant reminder of the destiny that looms over every character, and specially our main character, for as he first states it:

Ryuk may not have chosen Light, and Light is anything but a man without agency, and yet the series often makes you question how much of Light’s fate was set in stone since the start (We will analyze this tension between chance and destiny through the story) Ryuk, the dark figure literally hovering over Light during his whole time as Kira, emotionally detached from the human drama around him, will often be used to remind us of the irony of this whole story, as well as of the inevitability of death every human has to face.

Which brings me to my next point.

The Antagonistic Forces: L and Light.

There are few instances in Death Note where an extradiegetic narrator appears in the story, so let’s examine this first moment. Immediately after the opening scene in the Shinigami world, when Ryuk makes the first disruption that sets forward the story’s events, the following narrative is introduced as an all-out battle between two chosen people.

Now, with our understanding of what befalls one half of this pair, we will examine how well this premise holds as the story unfolds. For now, however, the narrative presents itself as a man-versus-man conflict between the 選ばれし者 (The Two Chosen Ones), and yet again we are compelled to question the role of fate's hand in shaping their paths.

We could interpret 選ばれし者 in two ways: one tells me that Light and L are two extraordinary individuals whose abilities led them through a certain path since the moment Ryuk dropped the Death Note. However, the use of the word “chosen” invites deeper questions. Chosen by whom? Was their all-out battle an inevitable consequence of their existence—fated from the start? Does a cosmic force guide the events of this world, or were they chosen specifically for this conflict? Alternatively, does the concept of a “Chosen One” imply that they would have remained special, even if the notebook had never entered their lives?

I did some research both online and with Japanese-speaking friends and the consensus seems to be that the phrase carries a dual interpretation to it, suggesting both fate and merit when used in literature. At the same time, the archaic grammar し in 選ばれし gives the phrase a poetic or elevated tone, which strongly suggests a higher, almost divine selection to a first-time reader.

That external narration, and this first panel are all the hints we have about the other half of the "two chosen people" in this first chapter. A man working from the shadows gathering information from the world’s largest international police organization, his identity hidden even from us as readers by obscuring his eyes, exhibiting a weird-ass floor computer set-up for some reason. He’s lean, he’s black-haired. He’s mysterious. As a first impression, you’d probably expect a cool Byronic type of anti-hero. Brooding yet charming, dark and isolated yet wretchedly attractive, with a troubled past, but good intentions at heart. Well! In the following chapters we will see how both L and Light continue to fulfill or challenge our expectations and examine how well L fits the shoes of our protagonist’s antagonist force.

Next up! Chapter 1: Boredom. Lilith’s Breakdown. Part 2

3. Establishing the protagonist:

Light and expectations

Light’s resignation

Light’s cognitive dissonance

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your own thoughts.

#death note #death note meta #ryuk #l lawliet #death note manga #my meta

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veespee · 1 year ago

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My Creepypasta AU

okay i don't have a name yet but,,, bear with me 😭 anyway i just wanted to make a general post about my AU! (inspirations, setting, the characters, the changes and how it works) hope you guys like it :)

SETTING: Pinewood, Texas / The Piney Woods - summer of '93.

INSPIRATIONS: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, House of 1000 Corpses, and in general older horror movies and slashers. (and of course credit to Moon for inspiring+encouraging me to write it :)!

look below the cut for the characters and more info!

CHARACTERS + BRIEF SUMMARY:

(these are just the ones i have an idea of, there will be more added in the future)

Jeff The Killer/Jeff Woods -> Jeffery Thomas/'Butcher of The Woods': was diagnosed with ASPD, left to live in a cabin on Piney Woods after his parents kicked him out, and became a serial killer who targets hikers and campers. his face got burned almost entirely after his first kill went wrong. he also owns a bulldog named 'Butcher', after being nicknamed 'Butcher of The Woods' by the townspeople.

Eyeless Jack/Jack Nyras -> Jack Underwood: was bullied from a young age, started developing anxiety issues, panic attacks and seizures. due to him living in a small, heavily religious town, medicine was pretty much nonexistent. his parents believed he was possessed, so they took him to the town's priest. the priest did a dangerous exorcism, which actually invoked a demon to possess him. Jack fled the scene after almost killing the priest, fleeing to the forest out of fear of hurting others. in the forest, the demon forces him to eat specific organs, usually from animals, but there are desperate times where he needs to eat human organs.

Ticci Toby/Toby Rogers -> Tobias (Toby) Smith: since Toby was a young boy, he was taught how to hunt by his father. his father was a stereotypical American patriot, and was often drunk and aggressive. he forced Toby to hunt animals, even with his disability (tourettes) and Toby's dislike of harming animals. at 17 years old, after a specific bad episode from his father almost killing his mother, Toby grabs a hatchet and kills his father while his sister and mother are asleep. he removes the body and starts to experience a manic episode, where he makes an impulsive decision to run away to the forest. he leaves a frantic letter to his mother and sister, and leaves for the forest to hide from everyone else.

BEN Drowned -> Ben Williams: a 12 year old boy who was bullied for being lower class by children his age. the bullies went too far and drowned Ben in a river near their school. the young bullies left the scene in fear, and Ben's body was inhabited by a raging river spirit who was waiting to take revenge on the town's people.

Sally Williams -> Sally Brown: a porcelain doll that was actually alive. she was owned by a little girl by the name of Oliver, and was taken care of very well. sadly, Oliver's father was physically abusive, and after a certain incident, Oliver passed away, murdered by her father. Sally took her revenge, murdering the father. the mother of Oliver kept it a secret, secretly glad her monstrous husband was dead, and let Sally free. Sally went on to target abusers for her killings.

Laughing Jack -> Jackson Garcia: nicknamed 'The Ringmaster' by the townspeople, since almost no one knows his real name. he owns a moving circus, with a cast of entertainers. suprisingly, before he was a ringmaster, he worked as a mortician. his dream was to work in a circus. that's when he found a way to bring dead people back to life, by feeding them others' souls. so, he assembled a group of (dead) entertainers, and in his moving circus, he travels around Texas to live his dream. his usual victims are kids since they're easier to obtain due to his circus, and all souls work the same.

most of the name changes are giving them Texan last names! (plus LJ is human now.)

ALSO IMPORTANT: i don't consider Hoody and Masky creepypasta, so they are not included.

PINTEREST + SPOTIFY PLAYLIST:

Pinterest! (board for each character)

Spotify playlist!

CHANGES:

Most impactful changes are the setting, names and backstories, their appearance have little tweaks also. Some stories might be a bit repetitive—as i'm trying to keep a theme. All of them live in Texas or somehow end up in Texas, and i wanted to keep a southern gothic aesthetic to it all. So; there is going to be lots of mentions of strict religion, small conservative towns and some heavy and violent stuff. (so just be warned!)

!! There's will also be a few mental disorders discussed, and i will try my best to depict them as accurately as i can, so if i make a mistake, please correct me. (nicely because i am sensitive /hj) !!

ARE THEY STILL PROXIES?

Yes they are! I'm also debating giving Slenderman a different appearance to fit with the theme. More importantly though, the way Slenderman acquires them as his proxies is more manipulative, as he promises what that specific proxy desires. (ex. he promised Jeff attention and fame)

The Slender Mansion also doesn't exist, they all have their own homes.

thank you for reading<3 this will probably become a fanfic in the near future, i hope you guys like it :3

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #fanfic #fanfiction #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #jeff the killer creepypasta #eyeless jack #jack nyras #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby #toby rogers #ben drowned #sally williams #laughing jack #90s horror #texas chainsaw massacre

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owlwithanapple · 1 year ago

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Bird & Fox

Chapter 10

Daddy Bruce meet Y/N

Bruce POV

Today I am about return to Gotham City, which I have been missing so much. I have been busy traveling and entertaining business these few days. and slept less than five hours. I need to go back get a good sleep, otherwise not be able to bear the night patrol. It is really busy to supervise Batman and Bruce Wayne both at the same time.

There so many tasks this time, I can't spare so much time to deal with them. I am very glad Dick and Jason share the pressure with me. At first, I was quite worried about Jason's temper. After all, he is not good at saying good things in business. But I heard from Dick that it went quite smoothly and nothing happened. I can rest assured to finish my work in advance and go home early.

The plane landed on the runway at the airport, which means I am closer to home. I got off the plane looked at my watch. It was already 12 noon. I went to the baggage claim to get my luggage and prepared to leave the airport. After I took out my phone to confirm the recovery status, I contacted Alfred to prepare lunch. The long-lost happy time is finally coming.

I received a message from Damian, I clicked it to see.

🐮: Father, can you help me pick up Titus on the way home?

🐮: I took him to physical examination this morning.

🦇: Sure. Same place, right?

🐮: Yes, thank you, father.

🐮: I'll go to class first.

🦇: OK.

Damian is arrogant and conceited, can't let go of his heavy self-esteem, and is determined to surpass everyone, but he is very patient and careful in taking care of animals. Thanks to him, the animals at home grow up healthily. At least I can let him handle these things without worrying about it.

I picked up my luggage, dragged it to the parking lot find my car. I put in the trunk and sat in the driver's seat. I leaned back and squinted for a while. Although I was away on business for a few days, I felt I hadn't seen my car for a long time when I saw it. The car as quiet and clean as usual. When I saw the car, I thought of Jason's car. I don't know how it was handled. I'll ask later.

I took out my phone, looked back at the chat history with Damian, confirmed the location of the pet clinic where I was going to pick up Titus. After the screen in the car was set, I took off my coat and threw it on the back seat, like throwing a heavy burden back. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and started turning the steering wheel. I stepped on the accelerator drove the car, leaving the airport parking lot and driving on the wide road.

As I drove along, I remembered Dick and Jason's flight was in the afternoon or evening. If I remembered correctly, Alfred took them to the airport. I would ask them later if they needed me to pick them up. Although I find everything about work annoying and tiring, I am happy to do things related to my family because it is the life I want, and this is also one of the reasons why I went home.

Once, I was young and ignorant, and couldn't protect my parents. They lost their lives in front of me. Since then, I have always regretted why I was so cowardly and incompetent. I transformed into Dark Knight Batman to fight criminals protect this city and the world. I love this city and my family deeply, I don't want them to be stained by any stain.

But becoming Batman is not an easy thing, especially the tragic incident of Joker imprisoning Jason. He suffered unimaginable tortures, a lot of pain and humiliation. I can't bear to imagine how he survived, when I saw him again, he was no longer the sunny, cheerful and naughty boy I knew.

From then, his temper changed drastically, became more irritable, and his nerves became so tense. He never came home again, and fought violence everywhere, living a crazy life. I arrested and tried to keep him several times, but no matter what I did, I couldn't win his heart back. I was heartbroken and hated myself for not avenging him at that time, which made things worse.

Being a good father and a hero is not as simple as imagined. I am also a businessman. I have money but I am not the ideal father that everyone wants. I regret and blame myself for not protecting Jason and everyone, which planted a seed of fear in everyone. I can understand everyone gradually alienated me, but no matter what, I always remember and believe that my children are the best.

But I am really grateful I have Dick. I am not good at expressing my emotions, he always helps me out gives me advice, brings me and Jason together. Recently, I can see Jason coming home from time to time. Although I don’t talk much with him, he and Damian always have conflicts, I am satisfied to see him eating and chatting at the table.

Jason’s recent transformation is obviously influenced by Dick’s personality, it may also be related to his new friends. I have always been curious about which girl can change Jason’s irritable personality into a cautious one. He has not introduced her to everyone yet. I have asked Alfred, even he has never seen her. He is really protecting her carefully.

Dick and I thought about abusing our authority to do some investigation out of curiosity, but thinking about it, curiosity is not a good thing. Jason and I finally entered the stage of reconciliation. If I abuse my authority to investigate his friends, it is equivalent to invading his privacy. If he knows, may not even go home and fall out with family. I don't want to let it go to such a point.

Turning a corner, I arrived at the pet clinic Damian mentioned. I parked the car outside the door and got out of the car. I opened the glass door and stepped in. I walked to the front desk to ask about Titus's situation. Before waiting for the front desk reply to me, I noticed a furry Corgi dog spinning in circles as if it was having fun with itself.

I went to check it out. This breed of dog is rare. The owner seems be very careful. The hair is well groomed. The name tag on its collar is called Kirin. What language is it from? What a strange and unique name. It is so well-behaved playing with itself. I stretched out my hands try to touch it, it fell to the ground with belly facing up without any resistance.

I asked the front desk curiously, "Where is the owner?"

The person at the front desk came up to explain to me, "Its owner is buying dog food nearby and will be back later."

At this time, the veterinarian came out and said, "Hello, Mr. Wayne. Titus still has a final check to do. Please wait a moment.

I nodded, "I understand."

What kind of owner is this? The dog play here so well and not bark loudly, does not affect other people at all. The most important thing is not afraid of strangers and allows me to touch it. While waiting, I sat next to and played with it. Dogs are spiritual animals. They will do something to heal people according to their mood. Should I consider raising a corgi? It looks cute and warm.

After playing for a while, the dog suddenly stood up ran to the glass door, barking and jumping a few times outside. A girl stood outside the glass door with an eco-bag in her hand. The dog was so excited to see her and kept rolling on the ground. The girl standing outside made strange movements to make it happy. Then the girl opened the glass door and walked in. She put down the eco-bag in her hand and pointed at the corgi dog with a gun gesture.

"Kirin! Ochiru!" She gave the command, the corgi fell to the ground. This corgi was so powerful and well-trained, it could respond to a movement or unfamiliar words.

After a while, I heard "Kirin! Okiru!", the corgi stood up again ran to the girl, spinning around her feet.

After that, the corgi came to me and circled around me. Seeing this, the girl smiled walked forward to look at the corgi. She covered her face with her hands and then opened them to make faces. The corgi jumped and looked very happy. I squatted down and held it in my hands. The corgi licked my face to show its friendliness.

"Kirin, atarashī tomodachi?"

(Kirin, your new friend?)

She spoke to the corgi in a fluent foreign language, the corgi responded with a bark. She nodded to show that she understood, then looked at me again. At this time, her expression was a little confused. She blinked several times as if to confirm me again and again. She clenched her fist on her palm and her eyes were wide open.

She pointed at me with a smile on her face. "Are you Bruce Wayne?"

I touched the soft fur of the corgi and nodded. "Yes, it's me. Are you the owner of this little cutie?"

She nodded to me and answered my questions enthusiastically, asked cautiously and worriedly, "Yes, did my little cutie cause you any trouble?"

I shook my head and said, "No, very cute and well-behaved." But I didn't understand why the Corgi kept sniffing me, as if it was very familiar with my smell. I put it on the ground carefully, but it still walked around my feet. Does it like to stick me?

I looked back at her expression showed that she admired me very much. Her feet rubbed on the ground as she had something to say. Her hands were hidden behind her back, I didn't know what she was doing. She took a deep breath faced me. She stretched out her trembling hands to shake hands with me. She was nervous about this kind of thing.

"Umm...Mr Wayne, I'm honored to meet you. Thank you very much for taking care of my little cutie. Can I shake your hand..."

A beautiful young girl took the courage to reach out to me. I thought only ladies would know me, but I didn't expect such a young girl would admire me. She must have seen me on TV a lot, so she recognized me. I shook her hand without hesitation to show my friendliness. "Hello, I should thank you for letting me play with your dog. What's your name?"

"Y/N. The little cutie is Kirin." She simply introduced herself and the dog.

Knowing her name, I smiled and thanked her, but I was curious about what language she just spoke, so I tried to ask, "What language did you speak just now?"

"Just now? Oh! Japanese. I'm Japanese." She told me about herself.

I was surprised. She spoke fluent Japanese and standard English. I could hear every word clearly. The girl who could express the language fluently and colloquially was great to have bilingual skills. It was unexpected to meet her in such an occasion.

"Mr Wayne, Titus has been examined. Here is the report." The veterinarian handed him the report. I took it and looked at Titus. He was avoiding me a little. It was indeed Damian who had been taking care of him. He was more attached to Damian than me, which was right. The current worry was how to get him to the car and go home.

I saw Y/N happily walk forward to greet Titus. They looked into each other's eyes. Then I saw a miracle. Titus circled around her as if he was acting cute to her. Y/N held Kirin and introduced her dog Kirin to Titus in a friendly way. It showed her friendly side. Maybe I could ask her to help take care of Titus.

I pressed her shoulder. She looked back at me. I tried to ask, "Can you do me a favor? Titus doesn't like to stick to me. Can you help me take him to the car?"

Her eyes lit up and nodded enthusiastically, "No problem! Leave it to me!"

She walked towards Titus with great interest and petted him. Titus stuck to her like a spoiled child. This was one of her charms. Maybe I could introduce him to Dick and the others. People of similar age could become good friends. It's not bad to have one more friend to play with.

I walked in front of her and opened the door in a gentlemanly and elegant manner, wanting to leave a good impression on her. She thanked with a smile and bowed in response, then took Titus away. I opened the back seat took the coat away, letting Titus get in the car then closed the door. Y/N stood outside the car holding Kirin waved goodbye to Titus.

When Y/N walked away from the car, Titus suddenly barked at the mirror desperately, as if calling Y/N. I realized something was wrong and turned to the back seat to comfort him, but ignored me completely. I had no choice and get out of the car ask her for help.

"Y/N!"

She turned around, still holding Kirin in her arms. "Mr Wayne! What's wrong?"

I pointed at the car, could see it shaking. "Do me another favor. Titus is restless in the car. Can you come with me? When he behaves himself, I will take you home. I will reward you."

She thought a moment and nodded with my willful request. "No problem."

I opened the passenger door for her and let her get in. It turned out that asking her for help was the right thing to do. She turned to the back chatted with Titus. Titus was completely docile like a child. I was lucky to meet her, otherwise I would not know what time I would have to go home. Before driving, I told Alfred that there would be guests coming to visit, and asked him to prepare lunch for two in advance.

I looked at the sunny energetic scenes in the passenger seat and the back seat, I felt extremely happy. Her cheerful and generous personality must be loved by everyone. She was a bit like Dick, even I was infected. Although there were voices and barking in the car, I didn't mind the noise. I felt this was more like my ideal family life. The family went out play and went back to have a good meal.

After arriving home, I opened the passenger door to let her get out of the car and then opened the door for Titus. I opened the trunk and took the luggage out of the car. I glanced saw Y/N's eyes and mouth opened in surprise when she saw the manor. I was used to it, but it was funny to see this reaction occasionally. I dragged the luggage and held the coat to open the door for her.

"Welcome, please come in." I smiled.

"Thank you, Mr Wayne." She replied politely and stepped into the manor.

"Welcome back, Master Wayne. Welcome, Miss Y/N. I'm Alfred, the housekeeper of this house." Alfred came over with hot tea. Her eyes were still wide open, but she recovered and bowed politely in front of Alfred.

"Alfred, take care of her for me. I'll change my clothes and come back." I dragged my luggage back to the room first. As soon as I stepped into the room, I saw the soft comfortable big bed that I really missed. It was hundreds of times better than the bed in the hotel. I put my luggage away, changed into a set of clean clothes and left the room.

I heard lively laughter. I looked down from upstairs saw Alfred chatting with Y/N. It seemed they got along well. This girl was really lovely. She was always optimistic and positive when facing strangers. Titus and Kirin were playing on the sofa. It felt like there were more members in the family. She noticed me looking and waved enthusiastically. I laughed softly came down to meet them.

From the conversation, I learned she immigrated here alone. As the saying goes, can't judge a person by appearance. Such a young girl has such courage to come to a strange city. I admire her from the bottom of my heart. I found she and Alfred can chat well because she can cook. Alfred is just trying to learn about Japanese cuisine.

I invited her to have lunch with me. She sat obediently on the chair showed her temperament with a dignified and generous image. I said, "Eat it while it's hot." She nodded and start eating. After she put the first bite into her mouth chewed it, she covered her cheek with a happy smile. Alfred's cooking skills really did not disappoint.

"Is it to your liking?" Alfred poured the tea.

"It's delicious! Give me the recipe!" she told Alfred excitedly.

"That's really not possible~" Alfred said with a smile.

"You are so stingy!" She laughed.

After lunch, we went to the living room continue chatting. I just found out she is currently unemployed and looking for a job. I thought about whether to let her come to my company, but I am still not familiar with her way of dealing with things, so I put her on the list for the time being. After all, working in a company will be very stressful. I wonder if she has the ability to withstand pressure to help the company solve problems.

Chatting for a while, it was almost time. Alfred said goodbye to us left temporarily, because school was about to end and he had to pick up Damian, leaving me and Y/N with two dogs. I took a few bags of snacks to the living room, turned on the TV and chatted with her while eating snacks. It was so nice to indulge myself like this after a long time.

About 30 minutes later, I noticed she began yawn and eyes were about to close. Kirin and Titus had fallen asleep. I turned down the TV. I left the sofa went upstairs to tidy up an empty room, took new pillows and put them on the bed, turned on the air conditioner to let the room cool down, thinking of letting her rest in the room for a while before sending her back.

I back downstairs, she had fallen asleep on the sofa. I noticed the scars on her arms and the dark circles under her eyelids. I wondered how many hardships she had gone through. She must have let go of many things to be so optimistic and confident now. I squatted beside the sofa, looking at her sleeping face, which reminded me of Jason.

I laughed out loud and covered my mouth for fear of waking her up. After making sure she was asleep, I picked her up and brought her to the room just now. Her sleeping face in my arms was really nostalgic. In the past, Dick sometimes slept in the study room while doing homework, and occasionally Tim would fall asleep in the Batcave. I always brought them back to the room like this.

I carefully put her on the bed and covered with a blanket. Before I left the room, I looked back at her, if I had a daughter at home, it might be like this. She would be like Jason and Dick. I turned off the lights, closed the door, left the room, let her have a good sleep, and went back to the living room to wait for Damian.

After a while, the door opened and Damian stepped in. He took off his shoes and came to me with his schoolbag on his back. He put the schoolbag on the sofa. I took out Titus's health report and handed it to him. He took it and flipped through it page by page to check Titus' physical condition. At this time, Kirin woke up and barked at Damian twice.

"Father, is it a new dog?" Damian put down the report in his hand, squatted on the ground looked at Kirin. He looked at Kirin in front of him with shining eyes. He couldn't hold back his excitement. He buried his head in Kirin's furry belly.

"There is a guest at home. She raised it." He didn't realize that I was secretly taking pictures of his cute side.

"Guest? Where?" He looked around for someone.

I pointed to the room upstairs. "She is sleeping. I will introduce her to you when she wakes up."

"Understood, I will take a shower first and then come down." Damian took Titus' health report with his schoolbag and left the living room.

Jason POV

I finally had a good night's sleep in my long-missed home. Bruce too busy with work to handle, and he asked Dick to help. Who knew he would even ask me to help with the company's trivial matters? I was exhausted from dealing with those businessmen these days. What bullshit is it to get Bruce invest in the business?

I thought Dickhead was joking with me. He mentioned Bruce couldn't leave for a while, but he needed help urgently for work. I casually replied I was bored, then he took out the plane ticket and luggage forced it on me, telling me get ready and leave.

That guy had been plotting against me from the beginning, asking me to go with him to handle things. Can't underestimate Dickhead. I didn't even have a chance to contact Y/N and suddenly flew abroad to work, but I bought a lot of snacks there. I don't know if she likes it.

Dickhead stood at the gate with his luggage and pulled his tie, "I'm exhausted."

I kicked his ass complained, "I'm more tired than you, okay? The bomber, my car, and Bruce."

Dickhead scratched his head with a satisfied look on his face, "Sorry, I think there are some things you are better at and can help me with, so I asked you for help. I will patrol longer for you these few days cover your shift, and I will take care of your car. Please forgive me, Babybird!" He put his hands together and said sincerely.

I breathed a sigh of relief and loosened my tie, "You said it, I didn't force you, let's just write it off."

I opened the door was about to step into the house. Dickhead jumped up and hugged my neck, "Babybird! I knew you were the best! You are indeed the brother who loves me the most!"

At this time, Bruce stood behind the door, "I can hear your voices from inside."

I raised my hand to greet him, "Hi, Bruce."

Dickhead said enthusiastically, "We're back!"

I dragged my exhausted body into the house, took off the shoes and socks that I was not used to wearing, took off the tight suit jacket and hung it aside, put the souvenirs and luggage in a place to sort them out later, thought about going back to the room to have a good sleep before eating dinner.

"Woof woof woof!"

It should be demon brat's dog barking. I want to tell demon brat to calm his dog down because I am so fucking tired and irritated now. Then I saw demon brat's grimace and the corgi dog in his hand. I was stunned. When did this guy get such a cute dog? It doesn't match his face at all.

The corgi broke free from demon brat's hand ran to my feet. He kept barking and circling around my feet enthusiastically. I petted him and went back to my room to sleep. He suddenly bit my suit pants and barked again.

"What's going on?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Maybe he is hostile to annoying people." Demon brat mocked.

"So cute~ I want to touch it~" Dickhead interrupted.

I took a step back and the corgi took a step forward. I did it several times and he followed me. But this corgi looked so familiar. I looked at him for a long time wondered where I had seen him. Demon brat wanted to take him away, he ran behind me to hide, then wagged his cute little tail at me.

"Kirin?" I don't know why I blurted out this name.

"Woof!"

"Kirin?!" I squatted on the ground and looked in surprise.

"Woof woof woof!" He excitedly circled around me, then fell on the ground let me touch his belly.

"It's really you!" I hugged him, and he licked my cheek happily.

"TT, why so close to annoying people?" Demon brat looked disgusted.

"Aren't you with mommy?" I touched his head.

"Do you know him?" Dickhead took a closer look.

I nodded and stroked his fur "My friend's dog. Wait... Why here? Is he lost?"

At this time, Bruce interrupted, "Um.. The corgi owner sleeping upstairs..."

I hugged Kirin and shouted in surprise, "Huh?!"

Chapter 10 End.

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AO3 Bird & Fox by owlwithanapple

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