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demonsandco · 3 years

Note

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #demon forms #this post sent me down so many rabbitholes while i was seraching stuff up #also learned that cows have hair instead of fur which is horrifying #so belphie has hair instead of a fur coat

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

VENGEANCE PART TWO

Summary: Part two of Vengeance. No one disrespected Jason, you were going to make sure of that.

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason

Warning: angst

A/N: As requested!!! Part!! Two!!!

Hope this satisfies all of you but already guessing there’s going to be more requests for a part three LMAO. I’m really bad at trying to end things, whoops.

I’ve never been so nervous to post before what the fuck

GIF not mine

Part one

Word Count: 3.6k

You spent the next few weeks trying to figure out who this guy was. It wasn't just the fact that he knew who you were, it was that he had gone as far as to disrespect your late brother. Jason was everything to you and losing him destroyed you. If it wasn't for Tim, you feared what kind of dark path you would be down.

You weren't the only one on the hunt for the mystery man - Bruce was too. After your encounter with him, he had made it a mission go taunt Bruce. The things he was saying, it was things that no one outside of your circle should know. He most definitely wasn't within your group.

His fighting style was relentless. Not worried about killing, brutal against his enemies, and his weaponry was insane. He left you with broken ribs, stitches, and bruises that didn't want to go away for over a week. It had cut down on your patrol time but meant you could do more surveillance to try and find him within Gotham.

You were going to catch this man, even if it meant putting yourself at risk. Tim never spoke of your words again - about wanting to kill this man for speaking ill of Jason. He never told Bruce, but the more he watched you work, the more worried he got for you.

Tim was the kind of man that could run on very few hours of sleep. He proved that to you very often by staying up late to finish work, or even school work. It would be the very late hours of the night before he joined you in bed sometimes. He was used to working late to get things done.

You on the other hand? You were not near enough like him to copy his lifestyle. It would be Tim having to drag you to bed because it was getting late for him. He could see how exhausted you were - bags under your eyes, a slump in your step; you needed sleep. However, you weren't going to get a good nights rest until he was caught.

"(Y/N)," Tim called out to you. It had to have been past three in the morning and the two of you had class the next day. You only hummed in response, keeping your eyes on the screen. Tim huffed at your lack of acknowledgement and hung his arms around your shoulders behind the chair. His chin rested on the top of your head as he watched what you were looking at. "It's time for bed, come on."

"Just a few more minutes, Timmy," You promised. Tim rolled his eyes, you had said that nearly half an hour ago. You saw the disappointment grow on his face on the reflection of the screen. With a sigh, you shut the computer off and heeded to his words. You needed sleep, as much as you wished you didn't.

"I'm worried about you," Tim told you. The two of you walked hand in hand out of the cave and to your shared room. Bruce didn't like the idea of sharing a room but you were nearing twenty and Tim was in his final year of high school - you both were old enough to make your own decisions.

Juggling class at Gotham University and trying to find this Red Helmeted asshole was a battle you weren't sure you could win.

"I know," You hung your head slightly. "I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this. I just - I can't stand the fact that he's out there, lurking, somewhere. Jason would want me to find him, he would want me to figure out what his intentions are."

"I know," Tim repeated your words. He squeezed your hand and kissed the side of your head. One of the first things that he had noticed about you all those years ago, was that you did everything in Jason's memory. All your choices and actions were based off of what he would have wanted.

"We'll catch him, but you need to take care of yourself first. You're not going to be able to catch someone asleep on your feet. Please, for me, for Bruce, for Jason, get yourself back on track before your hunt against him."

"I will," and this time you meant it. Tim was right, you weren't in good shape right now. This obsessiveness was taking over. Even if you were to find him, you were in no state to be able to take him down. He had already beat you once, you couldn't let that happen again. "I love you, Tim. I really don't know where I would be without you."

"Arkham, probably," Tim joked. You smacked his chest, but couldn't help but laugh. The sad truth was that it was true. If it wasn't for him, you feared for what kind of dark path you would have went down. "I love you, too, (Y/N)."

You had done what Tim had asked. Your sleeping schedule became normal (for you), and you were starting to look healthier again. Out on patrol, the two of you stuck together rather than splitting apart to cover more area. If you had another run in with red-helmet-guy, then the two of you could take him down together.

Tim was jumping from the previous rooftop to catch up to you. He was always envious that you were faster than him. You stood on the edge of the roof where you had last scene that man. The sushi place that you never got to go to was lit up and instead of the warm feeling in your chest that you felt when you thought of it and Tim, you felt anger - hate even.

Furious that this man knew such little details about your life, that he thought he knew Jason and what he stood for. You knew Jason, you were the only person who ever really knew Jason. Neither of your parents cared about you, Bruce was too cut off to know the tiny details about your brother. It was always just you and him, and now, he was gone.

Tim finally made it to stand beside you. The city lights shone below you and the late night traffic was causing the empty space to be filled with noise. Tim turned his gaze to where you were looking. He sighed and subtly squeezed your hand.

Batman had already scolded the two of you never to show affection while on the streets.

You knew that he was right to think like that. One criminal sees the two of you close and the whole city knows. Every single one of your enemies would know both of your weaknesses - each other. However, on cold nights, where the darkness that filled the city also filled your heart, you needed Tim's light to remind you that you weren't the costume. You were human.

"I miss him, Robin," you finally broke the silence. It had been years since Jason's death, yet now more than ever you missed your brother. "Fuck, I miss him so much."

"I know," Tim sighed. There was very little that he could do to comfort you at the moment. Hell, you shouldn't have even brought up your feelings but you couldn't hold it in. Tim was the only person you could express your feelings no matter the time or place. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault. I should have gone with him, I should have been there with him," You shook your head. "Maybe he'd still be alive if the two of us were there. We could have taken him down together, or maybe we would have died together."

"Jason didn't take you with him because he knew it was risky," Tim looked over at you. He could see your eyes were glassy from beneath your mask. "He always wanted you to be safe, that was what mattered most to him. I might not have ever met him but I know that I'm thankful for him protecting you for so many years."

"And when he needed me most I wasn't there to protect him," You hung your head low. You had failed Jason all those years ago and it haunted you ever since. Nightmare after nightmare you awoke in the night. They were all the same - each one of them the most gruesome things that the Joker could have done to him.

"That wasn't your fault," Tim tried to argue. He was frustrated with you every time that you thought that his death was your fault. There were so many nights that Tim woke up beside you in the night while you were drenched in sweating and panting at your nightmare. He was the one that would calm you down until you were able to fall back asleep.

"There's an hour left until Bruce wants us back, let's split up. It's been a quiet night I'm not too worried," You changed the subject. You didn't need Tim to try and convince you that Jason dying wasn't your fault. There was always a hint of pity in his voice and you didn't want to hear it, not tonight. "I'll call in if I see anything."

You didn't give him time to argue before jumping off the roof that the two of you were standing on and swinging away with your grappling gun. The cold breeze whipped against your face though you could barely feel it anymore. Cold nights like these always used to make you want to stay in and have Alfred's hot cocoa. Now, you embraced the nights like these.

As kids, you and Jason would always bundle up in every blanket you could find and nearly beg Alfred to make the two of you hot cocoa. He always would, and the two of you would nearly shake at excitement while you waited. A movie would play on the big screen and you would spend the rest of the night watching as many as you could before falling asleep.

Tim had surprised you with the same kind of date one night and as weary as you were to partake, you realized that making new memories with Tim was the reason that you were able to keep doing what you were doing. You were making yourself happy with him and that was what mattered the most.

Standing on the roof of one of the clubs within the city, you could feel the base of the music below your feet and see the crowd of people coming in and out of the building. Part of you wanted to join the drunk, messy people within. Instead, you tensed at a joined presence behind you.

"You're a hard person to get alone."

On instinct, you threw several batarangs towards him. He had managed to dodge them all without even needing to try. It only frustrated you more. You lunged towards him, hastily trying to hit him in any way that you could. After all these weeks of searching for him, you were finally going to get your chance to bring him down.

The red helmet man didn’t seem prepared for your oncoming wave of attacks. The first punch had knocked him off balance just enough that kicking his chest completely brought him to the ground. This seemed to be too easy. He was too skilled to only be brought down by a few hits.

Either way, you didn't care. You stood above this man, the words that you spoke to Tim rang through your head. I want him dead. The rage that you felt going against the Joker was far worse than you were feeling right now. As much as you wanted him dead, you desperately wanted to know who he was first.

You knelt on his chest, digging your knee painfully into him. A batarang was placed right at the small slit of bare skin below his helmet. "I'm giving you one last chance to do this the easy way: who are you?"

"Haven't figured it out yet? Maybe you haven't improved that much, Batgirl. I never introduced myself last time, call me the Red Hood." That didn't get you any closer to what you wanted to find out. This guy had to have been new to town, you had never heard that name before. "Jason -"

"You say one more thing about him and I'll kill you before you get the chance to finish your sentence," your fist tightened at your sides and the sharp end of the batarang dug into his skin even more. Thoughts about what you wished to do to this man filled your mind. You wanted him to suffer, to know the pain that Jason felt so he knew never to speak ill of him again.

"Bats wouldn't be happy with you."

"Fuck Batman," you harshly reacted. "Jason was the only person that mattered to me and if I have to go against Batman's code then so be it."

You couldn't see Red Hood's reaction to your words besides the fact that his body was extremely still. He suddenly used brute strength to not only kick him off you, but off the elevated fan that you two were perched on. You caught yourself before hitting the ground.

Red Hood stood up and stared down at you. You stood ready for whatever move he wanted to pull next. His knees bent just enough to push off, and with such grace, flipped over you so that he was standing right behind you. Red Hood towered over you and you couldn't help but feel some intimidation.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," standing closer to him, you could hear his voice through the modulator. It didn't make much of a difference to his real voice. What caught you off guard, was the way that he flipped up and over you. You recognized that push off, the landing, you had seen it done a million times.

The voice. The flip. The sushi. Hell, everything that this man had said and done in the two short encounters that you had with him. You recognized it all, you should have known better, from the start. You should have known why he knew so much about you and why he was so adamant that he knew Jason better than you.

No one knew Jason better than you, except for Jason himself.

"Robin to Batgirl, what's your status?" Red Hood must have heard the static in your earpiece, his head shifted just slightly to the right. You stared up at him, and you swore that he could hear the gears grinding in your head with all your thinking. Everything was starting to make sense to you. "Batgirl?"

Slowly, you reached up to turn your earpiece off. Tears welled up in your eyes once more that night, except this time for a completely different reason. Realization of who was under the mass came to you in a wave of emotion. Terror, fear, hope. You couldn't distinguish your feelings any more.

The tidal wave of all your past horrors washed over you. The terrifying nightmares that you woke up to at night. The grief you felt having to stand over Jason's grave at his funeral. The memories that you shared with him for so many years of your life. The anger that you felt towards the Joker, towards the Red Hood. All of it was overwhelming your senses to the point that you couldn't see straight.

The music from the club below didn't pound as loudly as your heart. The drunken vision that most of the people felt downstairs couldn't have been worse than your own. Even those who were so doped up on drugs must have had more feeling in their fingertips. You felt numb to everything.

"Jason."

Thunder crackled across the sky. The rain that was already spitting against you gushed down more.

Your throat was dry, so dry that you thought that no amount of water would ever be apply to replenish your body. The armor that you wore suddenly felt heavier, as if it was pulling you down to the earth and never allowing you to crawl back up.

The things that Red Hood had said to you before replayed in your mind. Jason would be disappointed. He knew because he was Jason, and he spoke what he believed to be the truth because he knew what he felt. He never told you who he was because he was disappointed that you never avenged him.

He knew that the only person that knew Jason better than you, was Jason himself.

"Jason," You repeated once more. Red Hood stood before you, he said no words, made no movements. Without hesitance, you reached up to pull the cowl off your head. Rain drenched your hair, your skin, it soaked through your clothes. You didn't care about how cold you felt, just the emptiness that was in your chest.

"You've grown."

Your chin trembled and no matter how hard you tried to force it stop, it wouldn't. With shaky hands, you reached up to Red Hood's helmet. Your fingers latched onto the bottom and pulled it up and off his head.

Fear of what you would see filled you. Your eyes were sealed shut, and you couldn't bare to look at the sight ahead of you. To be honest, you weren't sure what you wanted to see when you finally opened your eyes.

Cold green eyes stared down at you. Black mop of hair with the smallest tuft of white sticking out in the front. Faint scars laced his skin but a particular one stood out to you the most. A small J was carved into his cheek. Beneath all this tragedy, beneath the age, you knew this face.

This was your brother.

Without hesitance, you threw the helmet to the ground and rushed into him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around him - never wanting to let go because you could never lose him again. You didn't care if you were dreaming or if this was some kind of cruel joke being played on you - all you cared was that in that moment, you had your brother again.

Jason was rigid against you. He planned to be just as angry with you as he was with Bruce, but then he heard what you were saying to Tim. He heard you talk so highly about him, about how much you missed him, and how you wished that you were dead beside him in that terrible warehouse. He wanted to feel an anger towards you for never killing the Joker. It was easier to be angered than to forgive for something that you truly believed in.

His feelings changed when you stood there with your arms wrapped around him and tears down your face for him returning back to you.

Jason finally returned the hug. His arms squeezed you so tightly that you couldn't breathe properly but that was the least of you worries at the moment. Jason missed you more than anything. You were the one person that he could always rely on, and after seeing you on that rooftop, he knew that he could continue to do so.

"How is this possible? How are you here?"

"A story for another time," Jason assured. He knew that the moment that he revealed himself to you, that there would never be a separation again. It had been years since he got to see you, years that you thought he was dead and never coming back. This all felt surreal. You wanted nothing more than to believe that this was true, that it wasn't some cruel trick.

"I know you're still working with the Bats, and now you've got Tim... but I can't go back. I won't go back. And if you're willing, I'd like if you joined me," Jason offered. After what Batman did to him, he didn't want you with him either. He was sure that the only reason that you hadn't left yet was because you had no one else to turn to. Now, you had him.

"Jason, I-," you cut yourself off. You loved Tim, you loved him more than you loved yourself, but Jason? Jason was blood and you couldn't abandon that. No matter how much Tim had done for you, Jason was always your number one. That was something that Tim had accepted a long time ago, your brother would always be your priority.

"I know," he nodded in understatement at your dilemma. Jason didn't hate Tim, he never hated Tim. In fact, aside from him being a complete idiot for taking up the role of Robin, he was glad that it was Tim who had ended up in his sister's life. She needed him, and Jason truly appreciated that Tim was the one to be there for her when he wasn't.

"I'll join you," You firmly told him. You didn't want things to end badly with Bruce and Tim - you would always love them. But being with Jason again filled the whole in your heart that nothing could ever replace. No amount of vengeance against the Joker would ever bring you fulfillment like you had right now.

You never expected to see Jason again, you couldn't lose this chance. Not after all those night of hoping that you could be with him again. Your dreams had finally become a reality: you had your brother back.

"There's no going back."

"I know."

Tagged: @xapham @wasnt-expecting-that @annabellabrookes @ximaginx @comic-brew @itzagothamcitysiren @lux-xen-and-her-catastrophes @cipheress-to-k-pop @xapham @samaras-weavings

I think I got everyone that asked to be tagged but I’m so, so sorry if I missed you!

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someobscurereference · 3 years

Note

please use this ask as an excuse to infodump about any au/headcanon/personal project you might have wanted to tell folks about recently

Ooooh, this is a huge open book, anon. And I very much appreciate the platform to do it. Let's see what I have under my hat that (I hope) I haven't spoken about before...

Semi-Erased AU

This is the title I have for it in my documents because I got inspired from the anime Erased (and some asks ask I got like 2 years ago asking me who among the Trio I thought was older/younger that I can no longer find but I Never Forgot About), but it has almost nothing to do with the original anime/manga. I'm nearly 29K into it so far and not nearly done, lol. I will be shocked if I finish before the end of the year.

However! The basic premise is it's a modern AU where Inigo (just turned 16), Severa (14 at the start and then 15 later), and Owain (12 at the start but later 13) in Ylisse get visited in the dead of night by a strange wizard man (Anankos) who pops out of a portal and begs them for help. Anankos does not elaborate on what this help is or what the Trio need to do other than they need to decide Now, they're needed in Another Country, it's going to involve some Time BS (so don't worry about your parents noticing you're gone, kids!) and he's really, really earnest about it. Inigo, unable to say no to a man so desperate and really awed at the fact Holy Shit Magic Is Real, joins Owain (who wants Adventure so bad) and Severa (who wants to be Independent and why would she say no to this crazy magical opportunity??) in helping out this strange but earnest magic man.

...Which ends up with them getting portaled to Nohr in the dead of night, given fake names, a place to live, some money, etc., told to not contact their parents by any means, and oh, right, they're starting the school year in a few weeks. Good luck!

(Inigo: Wait, you're not staying?? Anankos: Only you can do this! Goodbye! Inigo: But what are we-- Anankos: *already gone*)

(Oh, and of course Xander, Camilla, Leo, & co. also happen to attend this fancy Nohr private school the Trio are sent to. Is this related to the mysterious task Anankos has set them on? Maybe!)

I have more written than this already (again, about 29K of it) but basically it's part slice-of-life coming-of-age, part teenage romance, part magical adventure, etc. Inigo, Severa, & Owain are two teenagers and a 12 year old living in this house with no parental supervision, and they are Not Friends at the start of this fic, lol. The circumstances would be hard even if they were besties going into this mess, but they're definitely not. They make friends (and crushes) with others! And rivals. And acquaintances. And their relationships with others (and each other) will change over the course of the fic! But they're not besties at the start, lol. Oh, and POVs alternate by the month! (Fic is divided into month sections. Ex: Inigo narrates August, Severa narrates September, etc. )

I have the general plan for why Anankos brought the Trio there, what's going to happen at the climax, how their relationships will change, etc. and a Bunch Of Notes for everyone's ages and background characters and whatnot. The plot just needs to be written out in scene format. However! Since it will be such a long time before it gets finished, here is some snippets from scenes that I have already written as a teaser :3

(1)

September

“Why is the ten-year-old balancing a checkbook?” Xander asked flatly.

“He’s actually twelve,” Laslow corrected as Owain swung his legs under the table and scratched another wobbly number onto the page. “He just looks young. Don’t worry. He does this all the time.”

Somehow, Xander looked even less impressed by this. Laslow—and how strange was it that he was still getting used to that name a full month after this whole endeavor had begun—had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing or otherwise commenting on Xander’s early developing wrinkles.

“Children should not be worrying about their family’s finances,” said Xander. “They—"

Wrinkling his nose, Owain blew a raspberry at them from the kitchen table. “I’m not a kid!”

(2)

August

The strange, inhuman Anankos came the evening before his sixteenth birthday in what Laslow—then Inigo—had graciously decided not to call a kidnapping.

Inigo had been in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard a strange noise he could only describe as the sound of air being sucked out of a vacuum. He turned his head just in time to see a flash of blue light and watch a tall hooded figure step out of a rift in time and space in the middle of his bedroom.

He choked on the toothpaste and bent over the sink to cough white foam onto the porcelain.

“I’m so sorry for startling you,” said the hooded figure. “Please, drink some water.”

...

The hooded figure said, “Wait—”

“Dad!” Inigo called down the stairs, making the hooded stranger flinch. “Did you summon any ghosts or demons in the house recently?”

The reply was almost immediate—a returned shout up the stairs. “Nope! Your mother forbid that as of last month!”

There was a bit of shuffling on the first floor.

“Why? Is there a ghost or demon up there?”

Inigo looked over his shoulder and very seriously asked the figure, “Are you a ghost or a demon?”

The figure paused for a moment, as if that wasn’t a totally reasonable question to ask at this point. “No. I am… not either of those.”

Very reassuring.

“Just checking!” Inigo called downstairs.

“Alrighty! Let me know if that changes!”

“Will do!”

(3)

“Nice to meet you,” Keaton repeated. “This here is Fang, Shadow, and Casper.”

He pointed to the very large, very middling, and very tiny set of three dogs that had accosted Selena. All three of them perked up when their names were called.

She looked at the animals, a bit curious despite herself, and then point to the largest dog—a huge mutt with shaggy white hair who looked like it could easily fit Selena’s whole head in its mouth. “That one is Fang?”

“No, no.” Keaton pointed to the chihuahua. “She’s Fang. Shadow is the black one, and the big fellow is Casper.”

Fang looked like she weighed about three whole ounces soaking wet.

“…Okay,” said Selena.

(4)

“Hark! Who goes there?”

Other students leaving the school were turning their heads, looking for the source of the overly loud, barely-into-puberty voice. Selena’s stomach sank at the sight of the middle schooler standing at the bus stop.

Odin pointed at them dramatically. “Is that Selena of the fiery skies that I spy? Partaking the journey back home, are you? And who is this?”

“Oh!” Camilla startled, sounding horribly delighted. “Is this your little brother?”

People were still looking. A pair of teen boys ribbed each other, and one girl giggled to her friends, shooting glances between Odin and Selena.

She forced a laugh. “Haha! No! Absolutely not!”

“Selena and I do not share the bond of blood,” Odin sniffed.

“What a shame,” said Camilla, and she seemed genuinely regretful. “I have a little brother of my own. I thought they could be friends. Leo could use the company.”

“Leo?” Odin dropped the pose he was striking in surprise. “The same Leo who always has his head in a book? And goes to school here?”

Camilla brightened. “Oh, you know him? Do you share a class?”

#long post #i don't read high school AUs and don't care for fics about teenagers At All but this idea that won't leave me alone is the one exception #uhh other things of note: selena has celiac in this AU #since i have so many hcs about the awakening kids being sick from Bad Timeline Grima Magic but rarely implement it in fic #i'm implementing it into this AU instead #still debating on whether or not owain/odin has my own childhood asthma but we'll see #i do also have personal projects but i don't think i'll ever share them on tumblr for various reasons #but know that when i'm not working on fanfic stuff it's because i'm working on those #as i have been as of late #which has made progress on this AU Slow #asks #queue #my text #i was going to add other random HCs or something in this ask also but i took up so much space with this AU that I'll leave this here lol #thank you for asking anon!#semi erased au #severa isn't budgeting the checkbook bc she canonically doesn't know how to budget #and inigo can't budget because he's gay and can't do basic math #the 12 year old keeps more consistent addition & subtraction than him #this house is a mess lol #also xander doesn't like inigo bc he's an ass #which is valid #severa very much likes camilla tho #i say it's a modern au but it's like. modern-ish #like. late 90s/early2000s?? but very vague #don't expect a smartphone here

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uhhhhyandere · 5 years

Note

Light from Orphic proposing to Reader be like: "Maybe we should get married" -S

my first request??? is this real life???????? thanks sO much for requesting and for making my cry while writing this heee heee

current number in my inbox: 9! but it’s always open so you want to tell me how it is, or tell me how much you love baby back ribs, ill love you forever uwu enjoy my husbando

this is a continuation of my completed fic Orphic found here

word count: 4.7k

There were countless parts of your life you missed: your freedom, your family, your job, your life, but you were in no position to desire them back. What your life was now, whatever it was, it was your fault. There was no god of misfortune to blame, not even the one you lived with. Naomi must have turned in her grave; all the evidence she laid in front of you on a silver platter you trashed. L right along with her, and Mogi too. Oliver branch after olive branch you burned, and you had the audacity to feel sorry for yourself?

Yes, yes you did. Every morning when he’d gently kiss you awake and every night when he fucked you ruthlessly into the mattress. After Light’s suggestion to put in your two weeks, you had a head full of useless calculus. Your new hobby was helping struggling high school and college students with everything from limits to surface integrals. Something to focus your head away from the heaviness of your environment. What else were you to do? Turn into a maid to cook and clean all day? You’d rather die.

Of course, that was dramatic. Your fear of death is what kept you in the game for this long, and what keeps you in this God-forsaken house at all hours of the day. To even try to escape, after the first time, you’d never even think of it again. You can’t go back there. Never.

You sighed. No longer having a work suitcase to hide your journal in, you’ve resorted to hiding it under the bed: not very clever, but what reason does Light have to be looking under the bed? You don’t partake in hide-and-seek very often, so it’s safe enough to hide a journal. Lifting yourself from the ground, you used the bookmark to flip to the next empty page.

User MathSuKS69 finally figured out how to find the volume of a solid. I hope he or she does well on their test. I wish I valued my education more in school, but the ongoing game with Light during my whole critical part of learning was somewhat distracting. I’m not some natural genius like him. I have to study hard, but when he does shit like giving me the notebook thing out of the blue, it makes my life that much more difficult.

He’s planning something. The twink has been getting that glint in his eye. I know it too well. ‘Maybe we should…” blah, blah, blah. What more can I succumb to anymore? I had to bring him to my brother’s funeral and introduce him to my family as my significant other. There’s nothing that can sit worse in my stomach than that.

It’s something they wear as pride. Their daughter is dating the dashing detective everyone raves about. Light has, over the past few months, become famous for being the genius, hot detective. Like the damn Sherlock Holmes of Japan, cases come in and get solved. People come into the station not only with these impossible-seeming cases but to just see him. No one asks anymore about the Kira case to him, and, if they do, he’ll politically dodge the question. It’s terrifying. Not as scary as the cemented Kira culture in the world, accepted and revered worldwide, mind the radical anti-Kira groups spread, and those who do not know the hot detective that defined justice in more than just Japan is more than what he appears to be.

Justice. What even is justice anymore? L dying, was that justice? Kiyomi burning to death? His sister in a wheelchair? That’s supposed to be for the greater good? Just so me and him can live in peace. Be happy. It’s for us. Everything I do is and always will be for us.

If life after death is anything like “The 5 People You Meet in Heaven,” except it’s hell, I’m getting my ass kicked.

Hand hurting from writing, you shook it, then capped the pen and placed the journal under the bed once again. Your hands wiped at the newfound dust on your pajamas. It was still early. Light must have just left no more than fifteen minutes ago. At least he didn’t wake you up this time. Yawning, relaxed at the notion of being alone, you stretched your arms into the air, rustling your hair as you made your way downstairs.

Voices, the banging of pots and pans, and the smell of breakfast filled your senses. Rushing downstairs, you were greeted with both your family and Light’s in your living room, chatting and laughing together like howdy-doo-dee. Not noticing you yet, you looked to the kitchen, where Light smiled lightly above the stove, clad in a button-down and trousers and a rag over his shoulder.

“Oh, Y/N!” Light’s mom called, waving you over. You grinned, eyebrows raised realizing you were, in fact, not wearing pants and in front of your mom, sister, Light’s mom, and his sister. “Good morning! Did my son not tell you about today? Oh, that’s so Light!” You cleared your throat, watching Light set down his spatula and turn the heat down on the stove before making wide strides towards you.

“It must have slipped my mind. I hope you don’t mind. I invited everyone over for brunch.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side and capturing your lips in a swift, heavy kiss, all for show. Your family swooned at the perceived sweetness of it all. His musk, strong and sweet, engulfed you as an arm remained around you. “I feel like our families don’t know each other nearly as much as they should for how long we’ve been together.”

“And he’s such a good cook, Y/N!” Rose exclaimed. “If he had a brother, by Kira’s name, I’d marry him. This is amazing.” His hand squeezed your shoulder at the mention of himself from her lips. “And I can’t believe we haven’t been over here yet! What have you been hiding?” Everything. You smiled.

“Oh, well, we just walk around naked most of the time. Nothing good to see.” Rose giggled, accompanied by the laughter of the other women. Nervously, you joined. “I’m going to put some pants on and look presentable. Be right back.” You tore yourself from his grasp and didn’t hurry to change into regular clothes and fix your hair.

Why the fuck was he not at work? What was he planning with all this? Just when you thought things would reduce back to a norm, he has to think of something to keep you on your toes. Light can never just settle. He wants more. He always wants more, and he doesn’t stop until he gets it. This isn’t something Light just does. Something lies behind the scenes. What he wants, however, you don’t know anymore. You, you thought ruefully, but he has me. He certainly didn’t care about your family. Oliver, rest his soul, proves that point enough.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay up there?” Sweetheart. Footsteps followed the call until they entered the bedroom. “You’re taking an awfully long time to change.” He shut the door behind him, and instantly his countenance slunk from the big and bright innocence to the sly and cunning. “Don’t want to keep everyone waiting,” he spoke, voice audibly lower than the statement before.

“What’s up your sleeve?”

“Why do you think everything I do has an ulterior motive?” He took a step towards you.

“Because they do. All the time.” Light shrugged, covering the distance left over in between the two of you. “What are you planning?” He raised a slender hand. Long, dainty fingers touched your cheek, thumb playing with the skin under your chin. If you weren’t you, you’d see only the passion glistening in his eyes, like seeing a long lost love for the first time, but you always knew better. Underneath lied the most twisted sense of love. Though he’s never said the word, it’s black and corrupted in his mind, just like his sense of justice.

“Don’t be so defensive, baby. I’m just taking the first steps forward in our relationship. I know you wouldn’t take the initiative, so I decided to do the honors for us.” Light took his hand back, trailing it down your arm and linking your fingers together. He’s awfully touchy today… something’s very, very wrong. He guided you back to the sweet-smelling kitchen. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting.” He laughed.

“We know what you two were doing anyway!” Sayu laughed, fork hitting the plate as she sat in the wheelchair next to the couch. The kidnapping… the poor girl. Light told you about it, another one of the sacrifices he had to make for the new world, just like his dad was. What he has suffered to be here. “You guys have to stop being adorable for a second, please! You have company.” Light laughed with his ever-loving smile, hand going over his gut. You forced yourself to smile too.

“Also, don’t eat too much everyone. I reserved us a table at la Mare Dorée for dinner.” The group harmoniously gasped together in delight as he wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed. This wasn’t right. The women looked to each other, smiling in glee at the aspect.

“Are you joking?” Rose asked, at the edge of the couch. “It takes months—years—to get a table there. There aren’t many French places like it around. Light how did you—you’re amazing. And it’s so expensive!”

“I know you can do amazing things,” Sayu added, “but this is something extraordinary. Thank you, big bro.” He waved her off. No one in their elation took note of your ever worrying form. Only Light, who remained steadfast in his mask by your side, must have, but he only offered you a glance.

“I know. I called, just to see if I can squeeze in somewhere. When I gave them my name, they offered me a table for tonight! It was amazing. I didn’t think I was that known.” You, in fact, do. He was building up his local fame for the day he came out as Kira, the God of the New World, a day you dreaded with every fiber of your being. Something of your nightmares you don’t want to think about, but you both knew he couldn’t yet. Not with the resistances still active across the globe. He needed to be patient, and, after waiting so long with L and Near, he could survive to wait a little more.

“Oh, shut up!” His mom chided. “You’re practically a superstar. I Googled you, and you had trending hashtags and blogs dedicated to you and people asking how to get a meeting with you, and so much more! It was a little alarming, if I’m being honest.” Sayu nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, the people I work with always ask me about you. They’re amazed that I’m your sister. They always tell me how lucky I am.” You fist tightened at your side. Lucky, because it was his actions that got you taken and in that wheelchair? She doesn’t even know. A wrench of pity and guilt was thrown into your stomach. Light silenced any visual discomfort you might have been showing with a pinch at your hip. “But I think Y/N is the luckiest of all of us.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, he can cook, Y/N! Be grateful for once in your life.” You tilted your head and playfully glared at her.

“Oh, I’m always grateful. Don’t you worry about that.”

“I’ll clean up in here. Here,” Light let you go and reached for a plate on the counter, “I made your favorite. I’ll clean up in here and join you with them when I’m done.” He placed a poisoned kiss on your forehead, then turned and let loose the hot water in the sink. You ignored the knowing gazes of the other women as you sat on the very end of the corner sofa, placing the plate on the arm next to you.

“I heard you’re not working at the firm anymore, Y/N,” your mother said. You licked your lips.

“Yeah, that’s the truth. I… didn’t like how I was being treated, but I didn’t think of putting in my two weeks in, but Light told me I should if I’m not happy, so, here we are,” you explained. Light didn’t even glance over from the sink.

“Are you job hunting now?” Mrs.—Ms. Yagami, now, you reckon, asked. You shook your head.

“Not yet. I’m—.”

“Oh, I see,” your sister interrupted, but you don’t see, so you furrowed your brows and wordlessly asked her to explain. She shook her head. “Later,” she mouthed.

“Well, that’s okay. We all know Light is bringing home the big bucks. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“Mom, please.” She laughed.

“It’s okay to admit it, hun! Anyway, Y/N, take your time. I’m sure Light doesn’t mind coming home to a clean house and dinner on the table.” You swallowed the bite of your breakfast, which did, in fact, taste delicious, while ignoring his mom’s statement. Light laughed from the kitchen.

“If that’s the case, I’ll be eating scrambled eggs and cereal every day.” The running water shut off. Light took off the rag on his shoulder, folding it neatly over the edge. You kept your eyes out the window while his weight shifted down right next to you, leaving no room between you, and a heavy arm draped around your shoulders. This is so very wrong. “I just want to be able to provide, that’s all, so she won’t have to work. I just want Y/N to be happy.” You continued to eat silently.

The whole day was spent lounging around, talking and laughing in the circle you naturally formed in the living room. The TV played the news in the background. It was no longer Kira-focused, as it used to be, now that it’s become the norm. Now, they dedicate a whole program to it, much like a weather segment, there’s a Kira segment. Not to mention the multiple Kira shows, documentaries, and other related programs. Though, each one reminds you of Takada, so you refuse to let them be on.

It was too comfortable. You leaned into him, fucking Light Yagami, like he was a precious boyfriend, with your head against his shoulder. The force of his arm around you didn’t help either, but it wasn’t disgusting. As the group laughed at another memory, you felt the warmth from his body. This shouldn’t be comfortable. This shouldn’t be making me relax. You should be begging your family to get you out of there, tell them this is Kira, but what good would that do? You even left the damn country, look where you ended up anyway? Back here. There was no escape anymore. Just be grateful for once in your life.

At 16:30, you dispersed. The families have gone home to get ready for this evening. You remained outside with Rose after Light returned inside.

“What did you mean earlier? When you said, ‘you see.’” She grinned, shaking her head.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I swear, sometimes you’re so thick.” Sucking in a breath between her teeth, she threw her hands in the air. “I can’t tell you! If I’m right, I’ll ruin it! Just… think about it all.” A car honked. “Okay! I’m coming! Bye, love. See you soon!” She hurried to the car, leaving you with more questions than answers. Dread filled your heart at the door behind you, knowing you were back alone with the beast now that beauty didn’t need to be out anymore with them gone.

He was in your shared bedroom, fingering through his side of the walk-in closet. He didn’t pay you any mind when you entered and began to rummage through your clothes.

“Maybe you should wear that black dress.” You pursed your lips. The black dress he bought for you when he decided he hated your wardrobe and went on an all-expense-paid trip to the mall. Once finding the fabric, you ran your fingers down it hesitantly. “You still have those nude heels.” It was a statement.

“Yeah, in the very back corner. Glad you want me to sprain my ankle tonight,” you muttered. You stepped towards the back of the closet, but his arms entrapped you before you can make it, pressing your body flush against his. He leaned down to you.

“I want you to look like you deserve to be my woman tonight.” His breath brushed against your face gently, giving you seconds to feel it send goosebumps down your spine until he closed the distance and nearly forced you backward with the strength of the kiss. There was no foreplay, only pure lust pushing your lips open and thrusting the wet, hungry tongue into your maw, suffocating and stifling. It’s always too much, too heavy. You’re always too weak to handle his… affection. Even as he continues, overpowering you at every crevice and intricacy of your mouth, your mind buzzed with only him. His smell, his toxicity, his hands, his taste, it’s too much. Too much, and you’ll be addicted. “So, get ready,” he whispered when he broke apart, smirking in bliss at your panting form.

“Yeah, okay.”

It was unlike any other restaurant or hotel you’ve ever seen. Pulling up in yours and Light’s Lexus, you awed at the sight of it. It was clearly five-star, celebrities-only type of place. Rolling up the stone road, pillars on either side wrapped in lights and rose bushes in between them encasing the hemisphere way, a gorgeous lit up fountain in the middle surrounded by stone benches and gardens. Limos dropped off countless well-dressed men and women, wearing various designer gowns, suits, and dresses. Light pulled up to the front, handing the keys to the valet and looking to you.

You’d be blind to say he didn’t look devilishly handsome. The suit, black jacket with a white undershirt and black tie and well-fitting pants all hugged his lean body. You cursed the tailor who made it. Feeling the heat on your face after the inspection, you kept your eyes low. He chuckled, wrapping a hand around your thigh. He exited the car, walking around the front with a hand fixing his jacket buttons and opening the passenger door. A hand reached into the car. Soft to the touch, you placed your palm on top and he pulled you to a stand. “Are they here yet?”

“We’ll check inside first.” Watching the silver car down the way, you felt him link his arm with you. Fuck, he smells so fucking nice—fuck! He led you into through the large double doors being held open by a man and woman in suits. Your jaw dropped. The band in the corner’s music drifted through the huge open area, windows showcasing the view of the city surrounded the perimeter. A deck outside laced with vines had more seating. Running water ran into the pond of the other corner, lights illuminating the rocks around it. The biggest golden chandelier you’ve ever seen hung in the middle. There was another layer above, wrapping around the room with ivory bars. A long table right in the dead center of that second floor hosted three women in chairs and one in a wheelchair. You would be able to see the table from anywhere in the restaurant. A lush, red carpet led down the stairs into the main area.

Light chuckled next to you. “Look.” He nudged your attention to the corner near the waterfall. “Isn’t that ironic? Don’t you recognize him from TV? Hideki Ryuga.” L’s pseudonym. It curled your stomach into a twist as the actor laughed with a beautiful woman next to him. “Maybe we should introduce ourselves.”

“I’m too hungry,” you whispered back.

“Hmph, it’s fine. Let’s go greet the rest of the party then.” Your eyes focused on the white marble wall with golden lining as he led you to the table. The four women straightened up, waving in excitement at the sight of you two.

“Y/N, honey, you look beautiful!” Your mom immediately praised, rising to her feet to greet you in a hug. You sister followed, squeezing tightly.

“Glad you don’t have to borrow my clothes for parties anymore,” Light’s curious eyes glanced over at the mention, lips quirking. She smiled again, then sat down. You leaned down to embrace Sayu, then Light’s mother.

“You’re a gorgeous woman, Y/N.” You thanked her politely. Light was already waiting at the other end of the table, pulling out the seat at the head and waiting. Swallowing down your newfound bad feeling at his gaze, you sat down, allowing him to push in the chair and take the seat next to you, closest to the bars overlooking the entire restaurant. “Son, this is amazing. Words can’t thank you enough.”

“No, it’s no problem. Anything for my family.” You noted that he looked at both his own and yours. “Now, let’s finally eat.”

You’re pretty sure the soup costed more than you’re worth. Gauging these prices, your eyes were wide as they exponentially increased with each protein. I should stick to the salad, but even that is more than you’d pay for anything. You couldn’t focus on the menu, eyes continuing to glance as Light as he crossed his legs and scrutinized the menu in front of it. Something terrible is going to happen.

You decided on the most appetizing thing in your mind that was at least lower than most other foods on the menu, and a glass of Chardonnay. You needed to drink right about now. The waitress taking all the menus, you rested your hands on the table. A mistake, you mused, as Light took the opportunity to place his own on top. It was not missed by your sister, who winked at you from across the table.

“So Light,” your sister asked, tone indicating anything about to come out of her mouth was not good, “mind my nosiness, but you and my sister have a rough history. What exactly made you go after her even though she hated you?” You were going to hear about that later, that’s for sure, based solely on the flicker in his eyes.

“Yeah, Y/N was a tough nut to crack, but she never really hated me.” He ignored your eyes. “You remember how she would always second-guess herself, never believing in herself, right? Well, she only portrayed her hatred for me, because she hated herself. She didn’t think she was good enough for me, which is utterly ridiculous. I saw right through it, and, after years of work, broke through her wall. The rest is history.” Your teeth gnawed at the inside of your cheek. Bastard! “Isn’t that right, darling?” He was daring you to try something.

“Well, you didn’t have to expose me like that, babe.”

“So, when did you know you loved him?” It was your mother. You looked around for your wine. “I know you better than anyone, my daughter. I’ve never seen you so happy.” One hand of his held yours, the other perched itself to hold his chin. Oliver flashed in your mind. I know who Kira is, and I’m in love with him. Yeah, tell that story.

“I didn’t want to,” you muttered. “I… thought I was fine on my own, thought I didn’t need anyone. I didn’t think anyone could find me attractive, so I gave up on the aspect of true love.” You paused, “Then Light came into my life. Annoyed the hell out of me the whole time, but then I moved back to the States, and I realized…” you exhaled, “I realized what my life was without him. It was… unbearable.” Rose gasped.

“You came back because you love him!” Light’s hand tightened.

“Yes, you caught me.” You’re pretty sure you were going to vomit. The waitress returned with your drinks; you rushed to sip down yours to get the lies off your tongue.

“That’s so sweet. You sure have a way of charming people, Light,” Sayu laughed. He shrugged.

“I got lucky,” and he looked at you like you were every star in the sky and smiled. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the skin on top, tender and loving. “There is nothing else I wish I lived for. When dad died, I—I was so broken up. I thought it should have been me, but I know he would have gotten angry at that. He wanted me to live on and be happy, and I think this is it.” A hand squeezed your heart.

“Your father loved you dearly, Light. You know he’s here with us now.” Oh, I dearly hope so. Light nodded, making a whole show out of it. His mother pat his sister on the back. “Here, let’s make a toast to your father. May he rest in peace.” You rose your wine glass, sipping with the rest of them, never forgetting the weight of Light’s hand on yours.

When the entrees were served, you didn’t know they were entrees, as they took up 5% of the plate. God, one of these restaurants. So, unsurprisingly, it didn’t take very long for everyone to finish, hungrier than they were when they got here, but they were too polite to ask to get dessert, as it was enough out of Light’s wallet, who offered to pay for everything.

As the group wordlessly decided they were ready to go, Light rose to his feet, capturing everyone’s attention as he fixed the button on his suit jacket. You looked up at him as he stepped away from the table and maneuvered your chair, with you in it, to face the balcony with everyone below. As he bent over, his lips brushed against your ear.

“I was thinking… maybe we should get married.”

The weight of the whole world fell on you, but you were stuck between the chair on him as he now stood above you. You gripped the sides of the chair as hard as you could. No, please no. “I’m sorry to make you all wait a little longer but,” he paused, and you wondered if he hated being on his one knee in front of you, “I do have something to ask you.” This was all happening too fast.

“Y/N, I—we’ve known each other for years. You saved me, and all this time, I knew it was you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. None of us would. There is nothing I would change about anything. About you. You’re…perfect for me. Through everything, high school, college, we may have had our rough patches, but we always persevered, and, when you left, I was horrified you would never come back. I—I gave up hope you were coming back, and I thought, if you ever did return, Kira would surely kill me before it, but then you came back. I thought to myself, ‘it’s fate.’ I must have done something right for you to come back to me.

“I love you, Y/N.” Light dug into his pants pocket. The whole restaurant was drowned in silence, and you realized they were all watching you. Your eyes landed on Hideki Ryuga. L is watching. From his pocket, he lifted the small case, popping it open to reveal the sparkling rock. “Please, do me the honors of being my wife.” No, this can’t be real. This is a dream. He had you cornered. Your family, everyone was watching. The side of his mouth away from your family rose in a sneer. He knew. Glinting in his eyes was what you knew so well: possession, lust, and justice. Kira’s sharp eyes were gazing at you from the ground. You didn’t have a choice.

“Yes, of course. I love you, too, Light.” He broke out into a smile, rising up to meet you in a biting kiss, slipping the ring onto your finger. The whole place erupted in applause. Light pulled you to a stand and made you face the whole restaurant as they continued to clap. An arm wrapped around you and clasped tightly at your hip.

“Don’t you see, Y/N? You’re mine. Now, every single part of your being will belong to me. Just as it always has been.” His voice was low in your ear. His hands snuck upwards to slide beneath your hair and trap you in another kiss. He parted with a leer. “I love you,” he laughed.

#light yagami #yandere light yagami #light yagami x reader #yandere light yagami x reader #orphic #reader insert #yandere x reader #death note #tw yandere #tw: yandere

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franklyshipping · 5 years

Text

Day 13 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

WOWIE DAY NUMBER THRITEEN LET'S GO MY FRIENDS LET'S KEEP THIS FIC TRAIN CHUGGIN LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @marvin-lee-magician @marvinleemagician and @marvin--the-magnificent

So…I know that opening all your presents on Christmas day is always so wonderful and amazing and thrilling…but I think we all have that curiosity. Whenever we see presents laid out under the tree on the lead up to the 25th, even from just looking at them we all try to figure out in advance what we’ll be getting this year. We just can’t help ourselves! Sometimes we just look, and sometimes we pick up the gifts and shake them until someone drags us away kicking and screaming, that’s just how it is. One thing it also is though, is a mega scoop. Every ego had the curiosity, but no-one more than the young Reporter Jim. He was looking for the scoop of the season with sensational spoilers, and he was convinced that finding out the contents of everyone’s presents was the best way to go about it.

How would he do this you ask? Well, he’d set up a stake-out point (a mini blanket fort behind a couch) with a view of the main Christmas tree, wait for someone to deposit a bunch of gifts, and then interview them for all the juicy details. That was the plan anyway. Jim had gotten a tad side-tracked, but I mean you couldn’t blame him; if you were to see a cute little glob in his own Christmas jumper, I figure you’d get side-tracked from whatever task you were doing too.

‘The Demon Hunter Jims knitted it for you? How intriguing! Did they use itty-bitty knitting needles?’

Jim asked curiously, to which Gooper replied with a soft shrugging motion and a little gurgle; Jim hummed.

‘I’m sure I shall find out at a later time from them-oh! Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any information on those there wrapped gifts would you? I’m trying to get all the hot gift gossip!’

Jim received another little shrug and a gurgle, although Gooper had been partaking in many a transferring of gifts from people to different places, he knew nothing of the contents. Jim sighed softly, but nevertheless smiled at the little glob and stroked him gently.

‘Ahh no matter, I shall soon come across the intel! Thank you though dear Gooper, your company and interview etiquette is impeccable as always!’

Gooper let out a proud, happy gurgle and gave Jim’s fingers a little hug before shuffling away from Jim’s hiding spot and going about his globular business. Jim humphed softly as he settled back in his hiding spot and refocused his keen gaze on the Christmas tree, wondering how long he’d have to wait before he could spot or acquire any fresh leads. He didn’t have to wait long though, because not even a minute later….in came Marvin the Magnificent, or Magic Jim as he was known by the Jims. Jim gasped silently as he watched the magician bring in an armful of gifts, and arrange them neatly under the tree.

‘Perfect…’

Marvin sighed happily to himself as he finished his arrangement and stood up straight, doing a little stretch, and then turning to leave the room the way he came. I can tell you right now though, that Marvin wasn’t going to be leaving so quickly….Jim wasn’t one to give up a scoop. So he, very literally, jumped out of his hiding spot, brandished his microphone, and landed perfectly in front of the magician as he exclaimed.

‘WHAT CAN YOU TELL ME ABOUT THOSE GIFTS YOU JUST PUT DOWN?!’

Marvin let out a, totally brave and masculine, shriek as he jumped about two feet in the air, his eyes wide at the sudden Jim Appearance. Once he realised that it was merely A Jim and not a threat, he clutched his chest and let out an embarrassed laugh.

‘Blohoody hehell, wahay to nearly give me a heart ahattack Jim!’

Jim then found himself feeling a tad embarrassed, realising that he had perhaps made his entrance a tad too dramatic, especially since he wasn’t usually so brash. He smiled bashfully as he replied.

‘S-Sorry Magic Jim, I-I just really need this scoop!’

Marvin laughed fondly, the stammers revealing to him that it was Reporter Jim, one of the youngest Jims, that he was talking to. Then the magician furrowed his eyebrows curiously.

‘What scoop?’

At his interest, Jim started to fidget with excitement…before going on a good old Jimmy ramble.

‘The scoop of presents of course! The secrecy and mystery that shrouds gift giving at Christmas is simply UNPARALLELLED, so I have made it my task to uncover the identity of every single gift in the ego household! And, Magic Jim, since I have just seen you deposit quite a lot of gifts I simply must interview you for intel!’

Marvin chuckled softly at the young reporter, finding his excitement and rare confidence seriously cute and adorable. However…Marvin didn’t know the contents of the gifts he’d put under the tree, he’d merely been doing a favour for some fellow egos by putting them there. However, Marvin didn’t have the heart to disappoint the young Jim by telling him he didn’t know anything, so the magician decided to play coy.

‘Oh but I couldn’t possibly divulge that information Jim! Christmas gift-giving is shrouded in secrecy for a reason, the secrecy is part of Christmas itself!’

Marvin inspected his nails as he mused with a playful smile, and resisted the urge to aww at Jim’s sudden excited squeak at thinking Marvin had information. The reporter was BEYOND excited, and he was certainly not going to let any coyness get in the way of the scoop of the year!

‘Oh please Magic Jim, pleeease? I won’t tell anyone what they’re getting, I swear on the clan of Jim!’

Marvin repressed a fond laugh upon seeing how Jim was practically pouting up at him like a sweet little kid, hut the magician held firm. He folded his arms with a playful smirk and glimmering eyes.

‘Sorry Jim, these lips are sealed.’

Marvin loved playing with Jim like this, he loved the meek Jim in general because he was just a complete and utter sweetheart; plus, in his rare moments of being passionate and excitable, he was almost unbearably cute. Meanwhile, Jim was pouting with furrowed eyebrows at Marvin’s teasing. He was resolute on getting whatever information the magician had, so he was brainstorming, trying to figure out how he could get what he wanted…then…an idea came to him. It was an excellent idea, but Jim was nervous to try it out. He’d never done it to anybody else by himself before.

‘W-Well….what if I persuade you a-and make you tell me?’

Jim cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. Marvin couldn’t help but grin curiously at what sounded like a playful threat from Jim.

‘Oh? And how exactly are you gonna do that?’

Jim pursed his lips when Marvin teasily…and he narrowed his eyes at the magician. He was going to put his nervousness aside. He was going to get the intel from Magic Jim…even if it meant tickle torturing it out of him. He put his microphone down, took a step towards Marvin, and smiled as he spoke softly.

‘Magic Jim….are you ticklish?’

Marvin’s eyes widened at the question, making Jim giggle excitedly.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

Jim eagerly pounced on the bemused, flustered magician, pinning him to the floor as Marvin burst out into babbles. Whatever he’d been expecting from the meek Jim, it certainly hadn’t been this….and now Marvin was worried. If he’d known that this was going to happen then he wouldn’t have fibbed.

‘N-No wait I-I-I don’t know anything! H-Honestly! I-I-I was just p-playing-AH! J-Jihihim!’

Marvin’s eyes got wider and wider with every second as he clung to the hope of Jim believing him….but alas….he did not. Jim merely giggled down at the magician, and started gently scratching at the sides of his neck as he teased.

‘Do you really think I’m going to fall for that? I’m not gonna stop until you tell me everything!’

Marvin’s cheeks went a hot pink as he tried to push at Jim’s hands, flustered at how he’d basically brought this entire thing on himself.

‘Ihihi swehear Ihi dohon’t knohow ahanything! Ihi swehehear!’

Jim rolled his eyes fondly, finding Marvin very adorable since he thought he was willingly playing along with it all. He made swift work of Marvin’s flapping hands, pinning them under his knees before returning to running his blunt nails up and down Marvin’s neck evilly.

‘Come on now Magic Jim, I know you Septic Jims like to try and be tough, but I’m only gonna tickle you more if you keep fibbing!’

Marvin whimpered and giggled adorably, shaking and tossing his head about as he tried to scrunch up his sensitive neck; of course, this only resulted in his hair going all over his face as he tried to plead the truth.

‘Ihihihi’m nahat fihihibbing! Plehehease! I-Ihihi’m reheally tihicklish!’

Jim couldn’t help but giggle and gasp sarcastically.

‘Woah, really?’

Jim’s sarcasm made Marvin blush harder and splutter with cute embarrassment.

‘Shuhuhut uhup!’

Jim grinned and cocked his head down at him, looking cheeky and boyish as he decided to let his tickly fingers slowly drift down to Marvin’s ribcage. Now he understood why his brothers tickled him so much all the time, this was SO much fun!

‘Now, now Magic Jim….you know how we Jims pride ourselves on manners….’

Jim teased as he traced over all of Marvin’s ribs, making the magician whine and squirm as goose-bumps rose all over his skin.

‘W-Wahait I-I dihihidn’t mean ihit! Plehehease Jihim no mohore!’

Jim giggled and raised his eyebrows down at Marvin.

‘Are you going to tell me what I want to know?’

Marvin whined even more, throwing his head back with a flustered smile in place.

‘I-Ihihi cahahan’t!’

Jim grinned an evil grin, but kept his voice evilly innocent as he dug into Marvin’s ribcage mercilessly.

‘Are you sure about that Magic Jim? Are you reeeally sure?’

Marvin’s whole body seemed to jolt as he burst into wide-eyed cackles, his whole form thrashing about with his adorable ticklishness as he gazed up at Jim desperately.

‘AHAHA JIHIHIM NAHAHA! STAHAHAPPIHIT!!’

‘Tell me what you know! Or I’m gonna tickle and tickle right up till Christmas Day! Don’t think I won’t!’

Jim teased, and his inner innocence somehow just made the entire thing even more flustering for poor Marvin; Jim was so sweet, and yet so torturous, and it was flustery as fuck! He was snorting and wailing in embarrassment through his mirth as he realised that Jim was probably the teasiest tickler he’d ever met….and he was shook.

‘NAHAHA JIHIHIHIM YOHOU MEHEHEANIE!!’

Marvin cried, and Jim giggled fondly down at him, the magician looked so precious. His face was screwed up with his mirth and his eyes were closed, plus his hair was mussed up entirely and starting to stick to his forehead. Jim decided that now would be the perfect time to rub the gaps in-between the magician’s ribs as he cooed.

‘You’ve only brought this on yourself Magic Jim! If only you’d talked earlier, then you might have been spared this torture….but no, you had to be a defiant little Septic didn’t you?’

Marvin wailed and arched his back at the tickling as Jim continued to tease, the latter feeling absolutely thrilled at the whole thing.

‘I know you think I’m the meekest of the Jims…but all Jims share a power and a passion, so you know I mean it when I say I’m not gonna give in….’

To put it simply, Marvin had never felt so flustered in the entirety of his life, and he rubbed shoulders everyday with Antisepticeye for goodness sake! The magician ended up letting out a shriek as Jim targeted his bottommost ribs, it was just torture.

‘PLEHEHEEEEASE! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHO BAHAHAD!!’

Jim hummed at his cries, and decided to relinquish the rib-tickling, he was a very nice guy after all and didn’t want to totally overwhelm the magician. He was passionate tickle torturer for sure, but not a heartless one, which Marvin was certainly thankful for as he took a few moments to catch his breath. Once he had done so though…Jim was quick to start drifting his fingers over Marvin’s tummy; he smiled as he whispered softly.

‘You know what I want…’

Marvin was a mess of trembles and sweet little gasps by this point, poor guy.

‘I-Ihi cahan’t gihive it toho yohou…’

Jim pouted softly down at Marvin, keeping up the softer tickling as he replied.

‘But why?’

Marvin had to take a few moments to get his voice under control amidst his giggles, but he managed it as he looked up at Jim.

‘Ihihi fihibbed! Ihi nehever knew ahanythihing from the stahart! Ihi swehear!’

Jim furrowed his eyebrows down at the magician….his eyes were so wide and watery and…honest. Could it be that Marvin was actually telling the truth? Jim’s tickling started to really slow down now as he became encompassed by his thoughts.

‘But….Magic Jim I don’t understand, why fib in the first place?’

Marvin was still giggling, but at seeing Jim starting to believe him, it spurred him to speak.

‘Y-Yohou lohooked soho happy when yohou thought Ihi knehew somethihing, I-I d-dihidn’t wahant to ruin thahat…’

Jim’s eyes widened as his jaw very nearly dropped. He stopped the tickling and slid off of Marvin, shocked and almost tearing up as the realisation hit him hard. Marvin had been being so sweet to him, and all this time he’d just been tickle torturing the absolute hell out of him!

‘O-Oh my…M-Magic Jim I-…I-I didn’t realise! I-I’m s-so sorry!’

Jim was on the verge of starting to feel awful about what he’d done…but Marvin’s chuckle and grin stopped that from happening. The magician sat up and ran a hand through his long locks, giggling fondly at Jim as he replied.

‘Duhude don’t even worry about it, Ihi shouldn’t have fibbed in the first place so I kinda deserved all that…’

Jim relaxed and giggled a tad at Marvin’s words, since that was kinda true. Then though, he found himself blushing when Marvin nudged him and playfully teased.

‘You’re a mean little tickler by the way! Where d’ya learn to be that evil, huh?’

Marvin grinned as he sneakily poked Jim’s arms and sides, making the meek man squeak and giggle bashfully, half-curling up as he replied in the most adorable fashion.

‘I-Ihi have aha lot ohof mehean brothehers!’

Marvin let out an amused sigh of realisation as he stopped the playful poking, chuckling gently.

‘Ahhhh figures, siblings can be evil little shits.’

Jim giggled at that, but then the magician fixed him with a curious look.

‘Oh, by the way, why do you wanna know what everyone’s gifts are anyway?’

Jim blinked at the sudden question, before developing a bashful blush and rubbing the back of his neck as he mumbled.

‘O-Oh…well….I-I wanted to make this little catalogue thing for everyone on Christmas Day, for everyone to look at after they’ve opened all their presents. With pictures and descriptions of everyone’s gifts and who they were from and why they chose specific gifts for specific people, like a gift album I guess…’

…Marvin’s heart just absolutely melted.

‘….that is the sweetest idea I’ve ever heard.’

Jim lit up with a cute, bright smile…hearing someone talk about his idea like that made him feel so happy.

‘R-Really?’

Marvin eagerly nodded, an excited grin in place.

‘Hell yeah! Say, would a magical assistant be of any use to you?’

Jim gasped and squealed at the prospect of Marvin wanting to help him, and dove in to hug him as he babbled giddily.

‘Oh my goodness Magic Jim I’d love that so much thank you you’re so sweet and generous and an amazing Jim thank you thank you! I-I have a scope-out den come on come with me come with me!’

Marvin giggled, and was feeling excited beyond belief as he was led into Jim’s secret den of scoping and snooping, and they soon became an intel finding team…and god help you if you tried to keep your secrets from them.

WOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS NEXT FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

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neversatisfiedswitch · 6 years

Text

Warnings: None, just language bc my babies curse like sailors and so do I :P

Okay so I really felt the need to write but I haven’t gotten any responses (which is alright) but I was excite to do cute things w/some of my babies so have a thing based on this post with the prompt being “Tickling is definitely allowed!!”

Also no title bc idk what are titlES AND THIS GOT KINDA LONG BC I AM WORDY FJSLDKJ

Words: 1152

Colton had gotten good at reading people over the years-- because of his quiet nature, he could usually melt into the background and observe people quietly... “usually” being the key word. It didn’t always work when he was around his friends, but he’d gotten good at reading them, too-- he knew their tics and their habits better than they did, at least that’s what he thought.

For example, if Lyn didn’t bother to use his cane, he’d slept soundly, and therefore wasn’t afraid of bumping into anything or anyone. Isaac whistling while he baled hay meant he was in the mood to drink, even if everyone else held back from partaking. And if Myarel sat down in front of him at the table, no matter what he was doing, and held out his right arm with a twinkle in his eye? Oh, that one was simple.

He wanted to arm wrestle.

“I don’t know why you keep wantin’ to do this,” Colton complained, putting out his cigarette and removing his jacket, then his right glove. Shining even in the soft light of the kitchen was his metal arm, having been put there by his father when he was 15. The blond was glad he hadn’t polished it yet, he wouldn’t have dared agree to this if he’d already put away his rag. “You never win, an’ you never get close.”

“Shut up and give me your fuckin’ hand.” Myarel snickered, brushing white bangs from his face as Colton narrowed his eyes and pointed at him.

“Hey, watch your goddamn language.” Now they were both laughing like goofs, even as Colton placed his right elbow on the table, his metal fingers curling tightly around his friend’s hand. “Jesus, your hand’s cold. The fuck do you do with it, stick it in the freezer?”

“Count it down already so we can get this over with.” Their tones are playful, as per the norm. Rolling his eyes, Myarel used his free hand to tap on the table. One, two, three-- and then he pushed with all his might.

Meanwhile, Colton didn’t even have to do anything-- really, this was just an excuse for him to look like a badass without even trying, and he always took the opportunity. It wouldn’t be long before he could push back a tad, making Myarel scramble to win back the distance... but for now, he just watched the muscles in his friend’s arm bulge in an attempt to make the cold metal arm he was so desperately pushing against budge even a tiny bit.

Something behind Myarel caught Colton’s eye-- it was Lyn, silently moving toward them. Despite being blind, the man was able to get around his property flawlessly with his... echolocation is the closest thing he could compare it to. Colton knew he was planning something devious, but really, when wasn’t he?

Lyn’s plan was revealed as he placed his hands on Myarel’s ribcage, lightly drumming his fingers against and inbetween the bones. Sapphire eyes widened as Myarel choked back a snort, a grin involuntarily forming on his face as his cheeks turned slightly pink.

“What’s the matter, Myarel? You got all red all of a sudden.” Colton chuckled, snorting himself when Myarel gripped one of Lyn’s hands with his free one.

“Tickling isn’t a-allohohowed!” A raspy giggle broke free as the blind man’s fingers wriggled under his shirt, and Myarel desperately slapped at Lyn’s hand-- though he refused to let Colton win, despite how much of an ass Lyn was being.

Colton shook his head, snickering. “Tickling is definitely allowed.”

“Really?” A voice in Colton’s ear made him jump, and he jumped again as a pair of hands prodded at his tummy, already making him yelp out laughter.

“L-Lyn! Whyhy didn’t you tehehehell me he was th-thehehehere?!” Still tickling Myarel, the Southerner sighed, groaning.

“Well, s’cuuuuse me fer not havin’ perfect 20-20 vision like you! Next time y’should ask Myarel, he coulda told ya Isaac was sneakin’ up on ya!” Of course, he was lying. Myarel’s forehead was against the edge of the table, and he’d already given up on trying to escape.

Isaac shrugged his shoulders as he followed Lyn’s lead, lifting Colton’s shirt and tickling his tummy directly, unable to stop from giggling himself when Colton nearly jumped out of his skin. “Good lord, calm down. I’m barely touchin’ you. You’re not always this jumpy, from what I remember.”

“So, boys,” Lyn drawled as he and Isaac slowed their torment down to gentle pokes, “d’you still wanna go with this? ‘Cause if you wanna give up...” He said it as if it was something they’d lord over their friends’ heads forever, letting his sentence trail off.

Colton and Myarel stared each other in the face, thinking the same thing: This is fucking ridiculous. But...

Rolling his eyes, Colton gripped Myarel’s hand again, and the white-haired man reciprocated. Obviously this wasn’t anywhere near an official match, because as soon as Myarel started pushing against Colton’s arm again, both men were immediately sent into hysterics at the hands of their friends.

Lyn managed to find the sweet spot on Myarel’s bottom ribs, which made him a shrieking mess, but also seemed to make him push at Colton’s arm harder. Isaac, being the typical annoying older brother type, already knew what to do to make Colton give up-- he wiggled a finger into his belly button, and along with making the younger faceplant into the table and grab at the offending finger, he’d managed to make Colton’s laughter go silent.

It was the opportunity Myarel needed to finally push Colton’s arm over, and thank the fucking lord, once the back of Colton’s hand hit the table, Lyn backed away from him, meaning he didn’t accidentally elbow the other in the face (again) while he was trying to shake the tickly feelings off of his skin. Isaac had backed away, too, at least for a moment-- considering how hard Colton had smacked his head against the table, there was the worry he’d hurt himself.

“You alright, Colton?” Myarel moved to the blond’s side of the table, lifting him by his shoulders. He looked dazed and his nose was slightly bloody-- damn Isaac made me break it, he thought to himself-- but he seemed alright otherwise.

And of course, after realizing Colton was okay, Myarel let a grin cross his lips. Colton’s eyes widened and he lifted his hand, pointing at the demon.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“I win.”

“Only ‘cause you fuckin’ cheated!”

“You’re the one who said tickling was allowed, you fuck!”

“Against you, not me!”

“You little fuckin’--!” Colton sped off before Myarel could catch him. Isaac looked at Lyn, the latter shaking his head.

“Fuckin’ dorks.”

#fkdjfljs #also what are endings?????#either way #my second fic here #bc my children are dorksssss #; colton #; myarel #; lyn #; isaac #; ticklish!colton #; ticklish!myarel #ofc all of them are ticklish #but these 2 really got it XP

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

Text

Food, It Turns Out, Has Little to Do With Why I Love to Travel

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I used to love to travel. I’d wander through new cities for days on end, eating and drinking (but mostly eating) in four-seat izakayas, farm-driven pizzerias, southern seafood halls, and boat noodle cafes, talking to locals and walking for miles. Restaurants have always been my joyous entry point to a place and its people. The food, I thought, was what made me love to explore the world.

That slowly fading memory — what it felt like to discover a new city, stomach first — is what excited me about going out on the road again, which I did a couple months ago, driving from Los Angeles to Corsicana, Texas and back, stopping to eat in places like Albuquerque, Amarillo, El Paso, and Phoenix.

Let me be clear: I absolutely would not and do not recommend frivolous travel. In my case, a looming publishing deadline on The Bludso Family Cookbook is what sent me on the long, not-so-winding road to Texas in the midst of a global pandemic, where I would be staying with my longtime friend, mentor, colleague, and big brother Kevin Bludso. Once there, we would be cooking, writing, recipe testing, interviewing, living together, and, in all likelihood, drinking a fair quantity of brown spirits at the end of each night (please, someone get that man a Hennessy sponsorship).

I’ve spent the better part of the last 15 years working in the food industry in one capacity or another. I’ve been a bartender, server, chef, culinary director, restaurant consultant, cookbook author, and food writer. My plan since last year had been to continue writing and consulting on the side, but also to finally open my own restaurant. Nothing extravagant. Something small and intimate. A humble, comforting place of my own — clean and well-lit, a true neighborhood restaurant where people can get to know each other, where the food and the service is unassuming and genuine, something with no desire for expansion or duplication. I consider myself unbelievably lucky that I didn’t open a restaurant right before the pandemic hit.

Instead, I’ve spent the last several months at home, making a quarantine cooking show with my wife called Don’t Panic Pantry. It’s been a good distraction, but I thought a work-related excuse to drive through the American Southwest and its expansive desert would be a cleansing, meditative, soul-resetting break from what I’d begun to think of as perpetual purgatory.

I took every precaution. A nasal-swab COVID test right before I departed. I also hopefully still had antibodies (my wife and I both had COVID-19 way back in March). It was, at the very least, the polite thing to do: Get tested before joining someone in their home for two weeks.

I had planned on driving straight through Arizona from LA, avoiding anything except gas stations until I made it to New Mexico, surviving on a sturdy mix of cold brew and air conditioning to keep me awake. I’d never been to New Mexico before. I’d pored over Instagram photos of chile-drenched Southwestern Mexican food, enchiladas oozing with melted cheese, their red and green chile sauces popping with Instagram photo-editing exposure. My usual pre-trip Google map was loaded with thoroughly researched restaurants along my route. In earlier times, I’d have peppered each map point with essential info like hours of operation and must-order dishes; now, I was looking up intel like outdoor seating, takeout quality, and, most crucially, whether or not a place had managed to stay open at all.

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I left with a bullish heart. But each stop to fuel up took away a notch of my optimism-fueled excitement and replaced it with caution. Each person in a mask made me a little more depressed; each person without, a little angrier.

Ten hours in and I had made it to New Laguna, New Mexico. I stopped at Laguna Burger, an iconic mini-chain inside of a gas station. It’s a fast-food place to be sure, but according to old photos online there used to be stools set up against the counter, and even a couple of tables and a few chairs. Those are, of course, gone now — pushed to the side of the room and leaving in their place a vacuous emptiness, even for a gas-station dining room. The staff was nice but appropriately wary. I did not partake in the self-serve Kool-Aid pickle jar. I got my food and then sat in my car, emotionally deflated and no longer very excited to eat my first-ever green chile burger — something I had wanted to try for years.

Ordering a burger at a place like this was supposed to be a tiny gateway into the culture and personality of the place, however small that sampling was going to be. There is an emotional atmosphere, a vibe, that’s specific to each and every restaurant, and I had perhaps never been so truly aware that such a thing existed until I noticed it had been zapped entirely from this one. In its place was a blanket of nervous, sad precaution — added to, I’m sure, by my own nervousness.

So I sat in my car with my sack of food, gloomily disappointed even before the first bite. They forgot to salt the fries and it felt oddly appropriate. In this moment, to no fault of the restaurant itself, the food didn’t matter. It couldn’t have. I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger, wanting it to justify a 12-hour drive and to somehow soothe an anxious mind. But the food, it occurred to me, wasn’t what I was after at all.

Later on, in Albuquerque, I picked up a four-pack of beer from Arrow Point Brewing and received the now familiar and appropriate treatment: measured, cautious polite gratitude. It was a transaction, appreciated by both sides, but with a higher degree of precondition from both sides as well. I followed it up with a takeout bag of enchiladas and a taco from the beloved and iconic Duran’s Pharmacy, taking them back to the motel room I checked myself into earlier. It was 5:30 p.m. The enchiladas had sloshed in the bag. I took a bite and understood: It was comforting, but not nearly enough. Like being single and reconnecting with an ex, only to both immediately discover that there’s nothing there anymore — two empty vessels with no connection beyond a memory.

I took a sip of beer and fell asleep for an hour. When I awoke the city had turned dark and I knew there was no point in going anywhere. The world felt dystopian and deflated. I’d left my redundant, loving, comfortable bubble to experience life alone on the road, and all I wished was that I was right back there with my wife and my dog.

When my wife and I had COVID-19, we lost our sense of smell and taste for a bit. It was, as my wife put it, “a joyless existence.” Now I had my taste back, but somehow the joy of eating was still gone.

The enchiladas, in a box, alone, on the floor of my motel, were just enchiladas. Because here’s a thing I’ve come to understand of late: context really does affect flavor. A place, its atmosphere, the people within it, their mood (and ours) genuinely change the way things taste. A restaurant lasagna has to be twice as good as your mother’s — or that one you had on that trip to Italy — for it to remind you of it even a little. A rack of smoked pork ribs will never taste as good on a ceramic plate atop a tablecloth as it does from within a styrofoam box on the hood of your car, downwind from a roadside smoker. I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

So as it turns out, when it comes to my lifelong love of food and travel, the food might not have mattered — not to the degree I thought it did, anyway. Not without everything that goes along with it. The surly bartender in the dark room who fries your chicken behind the bar at Reel M Inn in Portland while a guy two seats down makes fun of you for being from California is a huge part of why that might be my favorite fried chicken in the world. The friend of a friend who abandoned his family (thanks Marc!) to drive a stranger, me, around Toronto for two days and show off the city’s outstanding versions of goat roti (from Mona’s Roti) and bún riêu cua (from Bong Lua) makes me realize that yes, the food is outstanding, but that it’s the people — excited to show off their hometown, its restaurants, and their community — who make travel worthwhile.

Would Tokyo be my favorite eating city in the world if my now-wife and I hadn’t befriended two total strangers in a six-seat dive bar, knocking back cocktails until we both threw up, only to come through to the other side fully bonded over late-night grilled pork skewers with another stranger who gave me his business card and said that he had been eating in this stall for over a decade? What is a bar without a bartender? It’s just, well, being home.

The restaurant business can be both horrible and wonderful. It pays poorly, it requires incredibly long hours, and in many instances, you are going broke while making food for people who complain that it’s too expensive. But it is, as Anthony Bourdain often said, the Pleasure Business. It has always been a place for camaraderie, human connection, and community. Those were the things that made the nearly unbearable parts of our business worthwhile — and that connection, when you can have a genuine one between staff and customer, is what I think everyone really, truly wants out of the transaction. Those things still exist, I suppose, but all at arm’s length, or across an app.

I still eventually want to open my own restaurant. I think. But maybe I just want to open my memory of what it would have been in a different, earlier world. I don’t want to be a dinosaur, yearning for the good old days. But I also don’t want to live in a world where a third-party tech company stands between the restaurant and its customer. I don’t want someone to visit my city and think that a robot delivering them a sandwich is the best that we have to offer. I don’t want to have to download an app to order a cup of fucking coffee. Human connection, it turns out, is essential too, and we need to find a way to make it a part of our essential businesses again.

So what, in the midst of a health and humanitarian catastrophe, can we do? Well, we can decide where we spend our money. We support human connection and small businesses. We pick up takeout with our own hands from the places and the people that we love (safely, responsibly). We know that it is just gauze pressed against an open, oozing knife wound, but we try anyway.

So we travel because we have to, whether for work or as a needed break from monotony, and we reset our expectations, we open ourselves up to receiving that connection, we seek out the places that are adapting and we smile through our masks, and ask each other how we are doing, if only to show that somebody cares.

When I eventually made it to Corsicana, Texas, hoisting a large bag of dried red New Mexico chiles, I was greeted with an engulfing hug by Kevin Bludso; it was the first truly comforting thing that happened on the whole trip. I melted into the arms of my friend. I was back in a bubble, connected to something.

I spent two glorious weeks in that bubble, taking turns doing Peloton workouts and then drinking vegetable smoothies, before recipe-testing dishes like Fried Whole-Body Crappie and Ham Hock Pinto Beans; researching Kevin’s family history and then, true to form, sipping rye (me) and Hennessy (him) before I had to head home. Kevin’s food was outstanding, but it was made all the better by the time spent together cooking it. So when I readied myself to get out on the road again, my expectations had changed. I knew the food alone could only do so much.

This disease has been a reflection and amplifier of all of our weak points — and the restaurant business is certainly no different. This industry was already ripe with flaws. It has been teetering on the brink of a seismic shift for years — COVID-19 just accelerated it, and all the platitudes, Instagram stories, and false optimism won’t fix anything. But there have always been bad restaurants as well as good restaurants. I suppose it’s no different now. Yet it is maybe just a little bit harder to give and to be open to receiving the human connection that makes the whole experience worthwhile.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

I hit the road early, and after about 10 and a half hours, fueled by caffeine, Christopher Cross, and Bonnie Raitt — with one depressing pit stop in El Paso at the famed H&H Car Wash, where an old curmudgeon out front insisted I take off my mask before going inside — I arrived in Las Cruces, at La Nueva Casita Café. I called ahead, hoping not to have to wait so I could just grab my food and get back on the road. My guard was still up, but then the woman on the other end of the phone was so charming and kind that I was immediately disarmed. She graciously steered me toward the chile relleno burrito (“it’ll be the easiest one to eat in the car”). A few minutes later I came inside to pick up my food and the two women behind the counter were, frankly, a delight. I paid, and was promptly handed my food and thanked with genuine, casual appreciation for coming in. The burrito was excellent.

Bolstered by the kindness of strangers, I drove another five and a half hours into Phoenix. As a bit of an obsessive pizza maker (I had the tremendous fortune to train with Frank Pinello of Best Pizza in Williamsburg, and also had a hand in helping to open Prime Pizza in Los Angeles), I was here to try the new 18-inch New York-style fusion pie by the great Chris Bianco at their Pane Bianco outpost on Central.

Just as at La Nueva Casita Café, the staff was friendly, genuine, helpful, and kind. In retrospect, it took so little but it meant so much. When I expressed a need for caffeine, they sent me next door to Lux Central for a large iced coffee, where the barista talked to me from a responsible distance, wished me a safe drive, and gave me a free blueberry muffin. Even eaten in my car, Chris’s pizza was truly outstanding — crisp, thin, and pliable, successfully pulling off the New York-modern Neapolitan (ish) fusion that, in lesser hands, turns into an 18-inch bowl of soup.

I drove the last six hours home, finding myself encouraged by these final two restaurant experiences, excited by what the best in our industry are still somehow capable of in spite of everything. It was, frankly, inspirational to find genuine interaction, care, and kindness in this new reality.

It reminds me of my mother, actually. I remember when I was a kid, she would pick up the phone to call a restaurant, or Blockbuster Video, to ask them a question. I would always hear her say something like: “Hi Randy! How are you today?” and I would say, “Mom! Do you know him?” and she would shake her head no. Then she would say, “Oh that’s great to hear, Randy. Hey listen, what time do you close today?” My brother and I used to make fun of her for that — for forcing this connection with someone she had no real relationship with beyond an exchange of services. Now, I plan to do exactly that, whenever and wherever I can.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q https://ift.tt/34RJ8TD

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q via Blogger https://ift.tt/314xEef

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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seigyokus · 7 years

Text

1.4 - The Cloud Obscuring the Star

Idolish Seven - Part 3, Chapter 1.4 For more Part 3 translations, click here!

Translation below the cut!

Tsukumo Ryou: Hello, Momo! Just the man I wanted to see! Momo: Lookin’ flamboyant as ever, Ryou-san. You know, if I were a crow I’d be going straight for those super flashy cuffs. Tsukumo Ryou: Ahaha! How terrifying! I guess I’ll have to pry that snaggletooth off before it turns into a beak– maybe I’ll set it on my desk as a decoration. Need some anesthesia? Momo: What’s the second son doing out here tonight? Earning pocket money? It’s rare to see you in a place like this. I mean, you’re probably up to no good, after all. Momo: You ought to cut ties with those bad apples and get a nice job instead. Be a good son. You’ve got a good face, and a good head on your shoulders, after all. Tsukumo Ryou: Oh, I’m just not compatible with interviewers, and haven’t been since my teens. I even got rejected from a university I was recommended into. All I did was answer their question about what I wanted to learn honestly. Momo: What’d you say? Tsukumo Ryou: “I’d like to learn how to be of significant use to people, instead of digging your grave.” Momo: Smart people sure are nice. I would’ve smacked you with a slipper first, then reject you. Tsukumo Ryou: Heheheh. How strict of you, Momo. Momo: Nah, you’re just rude. Tsukumo Ryou: You’re only kind to everyone because you love people. That’s why you pretend to get along with my parents and my older brother. But in reality, you hate them, don’t you? Tsukumo Ryou: After all, they’ve watched your friends and colleagues crumble apart and quit their work– more times than you can count. (1) Momo: It’s not like that at all~ They always take good care of me, and I love them a lot! Tsukumo Ryou: Splendid! That’s an idol’s smile, alright. Tsukumo Ryou: No more of this useless chatter– I have big news, Momo. You want to know what it is, don’t you? Momo: You just want to say it, don’t you? Tsukumo Ryou: Re:vale will become part of Tsukumo. As will TRIGGER and IDOLiSH7. Momo: ……. Momo: …Won’t that be difficult? Takanashi-san and us are one thing, but I don’t think Yaotome-san and Hoshikage-san would remain silent on this issue. Tsukumo Ryou: Yaotome is but a mere infant compared to Tsukumo. As for senile, old Hoshikage? I plan on annihilating him with a scandal. (2) Tsukumo Ryou: Doesn’t that excite you? The power dynamics in the entertainment industry will completely change. Momo: Yeah, that sends chills down my spine alright. So, who proposed this disturbing plan? Tsukumo Ryou: Hmm, I can’t seem to recall. It flew out of my head when I got smacked with a slipper. Momo: Aw, don’t be like that! I was kidding! Come on, tell Momo-chan. Your suit today is the best of the best! Tsukumo Ryou: Ahaha, thanks. I love it when you’re so determined, Momo. Let us discuss this some other time. Tsukumo Ryou: I’ll grill all of your favorite meats. The tongue of the cow, rib meat, and thick slabs of shoulder meat, woven in muscle fiber and fat. Tsukumo Ryou: Doesn’t that just make you salivate? I look forward to it. Bye-bye! See you again. Momo: ……. Momo: ……Seriously, just say tan, kalbi, and marbled sirloin……. I’ve completely lost my appetite…….

Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: Yuki-kun. May I introduce you to Natsume Minami? He will also be starring in “Mission.” Natsume Minami: It’s an honor to finally meet you, Yuki-san. I look forward to working with you. Yuki: Thanks. Natsume Minami: Haha…. It’s just as the rumors say. There’s a particular aura about you, you’re mysterious and taciturn. Yuki: I’m surprisingly funny, though. Natsume Minami: To say that about yourself…. What an interesting person. I’ve also got a funny little trick up my sleeve– I’m very good at fortune-telling. Yuki: Oh? Natsume Minami: Men who have a beauty mark below their left eye, just as you do……. Natsume Minami: These men fascinate, yet perplex the opposite sex– however, they are passive when it comes to romance. They feel very deeply, but are capricious and whimsical. Many, many women have promised to partake in the perpetuation of these mens’ descendants. (3) Yuki: Looks like they’ve made me promise something I really can’t promise as an idol. Natsume Minami: You would suit being an emperor in ancient China. Perhaps you could use that as reference for your own life? Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: Minami-kun used to be a famous, and genius, child actor. This is the first movie he’ll be starring in since returning from studying abroad. “Mission” will definitely be a blockbuster hit. Yuki: I see. Natsume Minami: My child acting days are all in the past now. I’ll do my best to make a fresh start. Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: We haven’t been much of a match for young people recently, but we’re betting on Minami-kun. Please take care of him, Yuki-kun. Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: After all, Chiba Shizuo-san treated you quite well, did he not? Even though Re:vale are outsiders, we think of you as one of our own. Yuki: Oh, is that so? Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: …Are you listening to me? Just where are you looking? Yuki: At a revolting, flamboyant man. Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: What? ……Listen, Yuki-kun. Minami-kun knows about Chiba Salon as well. Please get along with a certain someone’s son during “Mission,” alright? Yuki: ……. Yuki: ……He won’t be exposing anything. If anything, he’s the one scared of being exposed. Official from Hoshikage Entertainment: Shh. Not a single word more– not here. Yuki: You’re the one who brought it up. Natsume Minami: Working with someone as splendid as you are will be just like a dream, Yuki-san. I can’t wait to film with you. Yuki: Sure……. Natsume Minami: Ah, that’s right. I also do music– and I love Re:vale’s music. Congratulations on your fifth anniversary. Yuki: ……. Yuki: You said you studied abroad? Where did you study? Natsume Minami: In Northmare.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Woah! This pudding is the bomb! Kujou Ten: Aren’t you taking too much? Yotsuba Tamaki: I’m not giving any to you, Tenten. I’m still pissed about Aya. Kujou Ten: ……. Yotsuba Tamaki: If you’re gonna say Aya’s your younger sister, then I’m making Rikkun my younger brother. Kujou Ten: Riku’s older than you, so wouldn’t he be your older brother? Yotsuba Tamaki: Rikkun feels like a younger brother though, so no. Kujou Ten: ……Aya’s doing well. She told me she was learning how to be a good housewife. (4) Yotsuba Tamaki: …For who? Kujou Ten: Oh, that’s not– Yotsuba Tamaki: Who!? Kujou Ten: I don’t know. Isn’t that just something that girls do? Yotsuba Tamaki: ……Tenten. Why are you on Kujou’s side? Why someone like him? He’s not someone you should side with. Kujou Ten: ……. Yotsuba Tamaki: Also, I tried thinking about what it’d be like if he were my dad, but…. Yotsuba Tamaki: He took Aya, he took you– there’s something wrong with him. Yotsuba Tamaki: Why are you and Aya covering his ass? Why did you guys follow somebody like Kujou? Kujou Ten: …What is your profession? Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh? I’m an idol. Kujou Ten: What is your group? Yotsuba Tamaki: IDOLiSH7 and MEZZO". Kujou Ten: What is your dream? Yotsuba Tamaki: …I wanna live with Aya. Kujou Ten: Kujou-san used to be Zero’s manager– and he’s lost all of that once before. Aya is kind. She worries for him. Yotsuba Tamaki: ……You too? Kujou Ten: ……. Perhaps I do….

To be continued….

TL Notes/comments:

ty @kuriiii for proofing my 9120398 typos and weird sentences!!!

(1) I’m 90% sure that the sentence before this is referring to momo hating ryou's parents/older brother (vs the other way around) based off of particles, aka if ryou wanted to say that his parents hated momo it’d be like, 親や兄に嫌われてるだろう？ i think… Anyways this second sentence i don’t want to infer/assume/force meaning onto it too much, because vague subject (probably his parents/older brother) BUT itd make more sense to me if there was [riku voice] JUST TWO MORE LETTERS to change it to ‘they’ve only watched’ … EDIT 5/5: I Fucked Up, forgot to consider in-group+out-group in terms of family. Momo hates RYOUS parents, not his own!!! Momo has an older sister ffs shiroi u dimwit!!!!!! anyways that was a fatal error, I am really sorry about that. Thank you haru-chi foe letting me know! (2) Tsukumo Ryou: You are like a little baby. Watch this. That’s all i wanted 2 say (3) 子孫繁栄 is 1. perpetuation of your descendants 2. family prosperity 3. fertility, a whole bunch of things you probably eat cool things for on new years (if ur east asian)………………. WeLL um anyways minami’s line after yuki’s confirmed it, what with the whole concubines stuff goin on in ancient china. Man. Also bc this is a fortune, I left it more direct… though i’m sure 'many, many’ sounds better than “an unspecified, large number of people” (4) 花嫁修業 - domestic arts / homemaking skills, but for the sake of the convo afterwords (since hanayome means 'bride’, you could loosely translate this to 'studying to be a bride’)

As usual, if you see any mistakes/mistranslations/etc, please message me!

Thank you for reading!!

#idolish7 #アイドリッシュセブン #story3:tl #story3:text #translation

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we-are-guildmaster · 5 years

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Dreamer Part 4

Parts 1-3 https://we-are-guildmaster.tumblr.com/post/186332090734/original-story-dreamer I take a few minutes to let the pills start to work and then I tell Anthony that I'm good to go. He helps me undress and then draws a basin of water and sets it next to the bed. There is a large bruise forming on my arm and another on my ribs but with the all-over pain, I feel I barely notice them.

Anthony is efficient in cleaning me up and before long I'm dressed in a thawb Anthony calls it, a traditional robe and pants arrangement common to middle eastern countries.

He moves me back to leaning against the wall and brings me the food tray, breakfast is hummus, falafel, pita bread, with slices of tomato and cucumber and a creamy spread of some kind and a small pot of tea. Not the typical breakfast of corn flakes and an apple that I'm used to, but I don't complain. I eat slowly to make sure everything stays down. Anthony steps into the bathroom while I eat and changes into local clothes as well.

After I finish eating, he clears my tray away and helps me back into my chair. Normally I would refuse help, I like to be able to do somethings my self, but today I'm just not up to it. I ask him, “So what now?”

He looks at his watch, so do I, it's 8:09 am local time. “Ms. Landers and the Madam will be expecting us presently now that you are cared for. I informed them of your episode and they asked to see you once you were well again. From there it will be determined what to do with the rest of today. If you are ready?”

I nod and he pushes my chair out into the hall. We move at a steady pace through the house for several minutes and I notice how large it really is. As we approach the end of another hallway there are two armed guards next to a set of double doors.

“Announce us.” he says to one of the guards. The man nods sharply and knocks on the door as he opens it. “Ammi, Ms. Landers. Anthony and our honored guest.” He bows and motions for us to enter.

The inside of the room looks like a cross between a formal office and a traditional reception area you would see in a fancy house or posh hotel. Madam La Roche is sitting behind a desk looking at a monitor on the wall, while Ms. Landers is drinking something from a porcelain cup.

The Madam stands up as we enter. “Ah, it is good to see you are feeling better. When we heard you had fallen it gave us all quite a shock. You are feeling alright now?” I nod and adjust slightly in my chair, “Yes ammi, I am doing better, still a bit sore, but that's how it goes with these things.” She nods at me, “Just so.” She sits back down and motions her hand to the phone sitting near the edge of the desk while looking at Anthony. “I have received several calls from a member of the Steward's office complaining about your treatment of them during an earlier conversation and your unwillingness to meet the Steward's timetable. Is this so?”

Anthony steps out from behind me to stand at my side, “It is so ammi, our guest's health is my primary concern and I do not feel he is prepared for any more stress today. As his caregiver, a duty I take with great responsibility, I must do what is in his best interest.”

Normally I don't like being talked about while I'm sitting right there, but given how far out of my depth I am I let it go.

The Madam waves her hand dismissively, “You have done your duty. If the Steward, or the Council, must wait for his health, then that is what must be. Come, both of you, and I will do my best to explain what is expected of you while you are here.”

Anthony pushes my chair in front of the desk next to Ms. Landers and takes a seat next to me. The Madam sits back down in her chair, “I am sure you know little of our customs or ways. You will be educated over the coming days. First you will want to know why you are here.” she picked up a remote control and the monitor she had been looking at changed to show a news piece about a wealthy industrialist who had died. “About 4 months ago, the First Lord of the Council of Tribes passed from this world into the next. As is tradition, his eldest son took his place as the new First Lord.” The screen switches view to a ribbon-cutting ceremony with a decent looking middle-aged man cutting the ribbon. As soon as he cuts the ribbon there are several large explosions and the camera feed goes dark. “His reign was short-lived.” the screen changes to the image of what looks like a 30 something playboy on a yacht. “The line of succession passed from the eldest son to the second son, the man you see before you. His brother was groomed to take his father's place, he was...” she had a look of distaste on her face, “less prepared for the role he found himself in. He also has brought several new ideas with him to the seat of First Lord.” Ms. Landers sets her cup on a small plate on the edge of the desk and took over speaking, “Several members took umbrage at his ascension and challenged him. While he may not have been schooled in the ways of the Court, he is remarkably skilled in combat. After a vigorous but short... debate, seven out of the thirteen council seats were left vacant and the First Lord filled those seats with more liberal-minded members of the Tribes.” “Just so.” said the Madam, “Since that time, the First Lord has expressed an interest in the way things work and has begun rethinking age-old policies that have been in place for millennia.” she waved her hand towards me, “Like having first-hand contact with Dreamers.”

A cloud washed over Ms. Landers face as she speaks, “The last time a Dreamer meat a First Lord, King Richard sat upon the throne of England. It did not end well.”

I remember some of my history from school, not a lot because you forget things as you grow older, but I remember that King Richard led one of the Crusades. As close to a World War as people came to back then. If contact with someone like me caused that, what could happen now?

My voice wavers a bit as I ask my question, “Am I in danger ammi? I don't want to presume anything, but from what you are saying it sounds like a lot of people would think this is a bad idea.”

The Madam smiles reassuringly, “You are not mistaken, there are... factions... who would see to it that your meeting with the Council and the First Lord do not take place. Which is one of the reasons you have been placed in my care.” She stands behind her desk and takes a sip of her drink from another porcelain cup.

“I am from an order charged with hospitality. Which, I know, must sound absurd to you. But in our culture hospitality comes with certain obligations. As long as you are in the care of one who provides hospitality, grand hosts and hostesses we are called or Madam and Sur out of respect, no one may cause you harm or force you to do anything against your wishes, or in your special case the wishes of your caregiver Anthony. To do so would violate a thousand years of customs and carry with it the highest cost.”

Anthony nods his head beside me and slightly bows his head.

“Anthony also has a special place in our culture. He is nabati, or what you might call a vegetarian, he does not partake of the meat of non-animals.”

Non-animals. People. I mean not only was I being cared for by some kind of monster, but one who didn't eat people. Even so it didn't fill me with a sense of reassurance.

The Madam continued, “He is trained in the care of those in power who cannot care for themselves. A dangerous job given the emphasis placed on strength in our culture. To need a caregiver and still maintain your position requires an individual who can be your strong right arm as well as tend to your personal needs. To his distinction, Anthony has served several high ranking members of the Tribes and one of the Council in his years of service. He is one of the most respected members of his profession and holds the weight of his position with much care.”Again Anthony nods.

What struck me was the phrase, years of service. Anthony looks like he might be in his early forties, maybe late thirties. Either way not long enough to have had years of service.

I've been an invalid since I was 8 years old, when I had my first Dream, and since then I've had three caregivers, I don't count my mom or the temps that fill in during vacations and whatnot. Once you get one and form a bond with them, they tend to stay around.

Doug was with me from when I was nine till I was twenty-two. After my mom died he was my only real human connection with the world. I don't get out much. He retired at sixty-seven because he was done. He said the job takes a toll on a person after a while and that he loved me but he needed to relax in his old age. I still get Christmas cards from him every year.

Marcie took over after him and was with me until I was thirty-nine, and then she moved away when her husband found a new job in another city. She calls me a couple of times a year just to catch up and sends me books that she thinks I'll like. She always was sweet.

Kimberly took over after her and has been with me ever since. They were all good people who I cared about. They helped me live a better life. They were my family in everything but blood and I know they felt the same about me.

I know that the monsters live longer than humans, in some cases a lot longer. I wonder just how old Anthony is, and how long years of service was.

The Madam's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “... Stewards are charged with carrying out the will of individual Council members, think of them as the close cabinet of a president or prime minister. Senior Stewards, like Ms. Landers, speak for the office of Stewards, not any one Councilor, but for the Council as a whole and often as the voice and hand of the First Lord. The fact that she has been assigned to you should give you some idea as to the value the First Lord places upon your safety.”

“We live to be of service.” Ms. Landers said.

“And rightly so. Most of the time, should a person enter into hospitality, they are assigned a concierge, like Arjun, to see to their needs. The grand host oversees the actions of the concierges under them and maintains the order of their establishment. I have thirty-six concierges who work below me, Arjun is the senior-most. But given your status, the First Lord has asked me to attend to you personally.”

Holy shit. So I'm being taken care of by a vegetarian caregiver who is probably also a super badass, the handmaiden of the chief of all the monsters, and the person who sees to the needs of the highest of guests of the Council. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

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manyshadesofold-blog · 7 years

Text

The Wide and Wacky World of Sports

I like sports. My whole family does, save my daughter. She’s the odd one.

When I was young, I loved to play tennis, volleyball, basketball or anything that involved cute guys crashing into me, at least the ones who were not related to me. The exception of course was tennis- that involved me crashing into the net and face planting on the concrete.

I was fairly athletic and had a wicked hook shot in basketball that’s made me a legend with my son and all my nephews. But mostly in my own mind. I am only 5’3”, according to what I tell people. I could make my shot over people that were several heads taller, and from any distance and at any angle within twenty five feet of the net. I had extremely strong arms for a girl, probably from fighting with my sisters over clothes. Plus, I was too short to defend, especially against someone who wasn’t aware of my famous ability. In the business we call that ‘hustling’. I call it, one up on my brothers. The problem with my hook shot was, iit was my only whot. It didn’t occur all that often and when it didn’t, I was……well, lousy.

I liked competition, and my sisters, brothers and myself used to compete for any number of things- dish duty, garbage duty, or just plain for the hell of it. Being the youngest of eight kids, I had to be athletic and fast, or else I’d probably not be alive today. Particularly when I did stupid things like play with my sisters’ makeup, or breaking my brothers’ model train set.

As I got older, we tried to emulate the Kennedy family and have family football or wiffle ball games. A wiffle ball, for those who don’t know, is a plastic ball full of holes. It is very lightweight, which is safer and much funnier to watch when there was large quantities of beer involved. Lots of beer.

I fondly recall some of these games. Watching someone swing a bat who has had a few too many is hysterical. Usually the enebriated individual, sometimes me included, would keep swinging a good two or three hours after they’d already struck out.

Bystanders had to be careful not to be in the path of the bat. Fortunately, we used plastic bats with no real weight to them. I know this from experience when one of my sisters chased me around trying to smack me with it after I’d laughed at them for a bone-headed play.

On the topic of sisters, there is nothing more amazing or more comical than watching a woman afraid of breaking her nails try to catch a football. My sister, Sandy was the quinessioncial girly girl. She never wore tennis shoes, always sandles to show off her latest pedicure. When she played football, she would twist around, putting her body through contorsions that Hudini would have admired to try to catch the football with just her arms. Unfortunately, her face took the brunt of it more often than not. She shook it off, though. Girly girl or not, my sister was no wuss.

I used to like motor sports when I was a wee one. Motorcycle racing was a blast, as was stock car racing. I would go to either and came home equally covered in mud. I had my favorite drivers and riders and would always try to get them to wave to me as they went by. When they did, I was thrilled. I would hang around with the motorcross riders after a race and enjoy the carnival like atmosphere. My whole family was usually there with me, and one of our close friends was a racer. I got addicted to it and used to off-road motorcycles for sport. This inevitably led to the time I got to kiss a cactus.

I was in New Mexico with my brother-in-law, and we took the day to ride in a hilly, desert area outside of Roswell. We had the standard safety equipment with us- a helmet and a case of beer, which worked well for both courage and anesthesia. I, unfamiliar with the course, was flying along up and down those hills when suddenly, down turned into droppin way, way down.

This was followed by very loud and inventive cursing unsuitable for a general audience.

I had driven off of a sheer, ten foot drop, straight into a cactus. My brother-in-law started laughing is butt off. He said I had looked like a superhero flying through the air. The bike went one way and I went the other into the large and painful plant.

Fortunately, the damage was light. Thank God I only broke off a piece of the fender on the bike. Oh, and I had some bruises and a few broken ribs. I could have broken my entire body. I should have hit my head, it’s as hard as a rock. I had a helmet with a visor on, which kept my face from turning into soup. Kids, the lesson here is to always wear safety equipment, sans the beer, and for God’s sake, don’t try this at home.

Of course, when my family and I aren’t partaking in dangerous contact sports, we watch them. We routinely gather together in someone’s living room to yell at the TV and each other. It’s a great stress reliever. And if our team loses, it’s ok. We got to yell for three hours or so and end up too tired and hoarse to react to losing. And besides, there is always tomorrow, next week or next year for them to become victorious again.

I understand the basics of most sports. My personal favorites to watch are football, hockey and baseball. It used to be more fun, however, when the players were not paid the samemoney, as the fiscal budget for the entire U.S. Government’s spending programs.

In football, hockey and boxing, the players give up their personal health to play the game. So I guess I can see a large salary there. It’s like the old gladiator games from the Roman era. Although now, humans choose to beat each other senseless just to try and be a winner, and make mucho dollars.. And also, to try to be the strongest and the fastest and the meanest.

Those who don’t participate tend to enjoy watching those people beat each other senseless. They get their hunger for healthy competition and unhealthyviolence fulfilled without ever having to leave their easy chair, or seat in the stands.

Women are now more involved with sports than ever. We are right next to the men shouting for our team’s victory. Men don’t mind because we bring food, and they think woman who are into sports are sexy. I once went to a women’s football game. There does happen to be a league for women, but they are not well advertised. You want to talk about viciousness and blood letting, and that was just during the National Anthem! But I’ll tell you, these women were every bit as skilled as the men, and had twice the passion with maybe a tenth of the pay. That holds true for most women’s professional sports, and almost every other job, too.

Baseball is typically a gentler sport. They do beat each other senseless, but that’s outside the rules of the game. Being a Milwaukee native, I loved watching the Brewers play at the old County Stadium. Yelling and screaming with the fans, eating a hot dog meant for the guy down the aisle, and drinking an ice cold beer on a hot summer day. Pure extacy, though nowadays the price for concessions are so inflated, you practically have to take a loan out to afford them.

Still, it does not cost as much to watch baseball as it does some other sports. And the players usually are gorgeous creatures with faces not broken and battered, or covered in a protective mask. Truthfully, that was always my main motivation to go to games. Sometimes it just doesn’t get much better than that.

I always wanted to catch a ball. My husband actually did once and gave it to our son when he was still just a little guy. He was five years old, and I remember looking down into his wide, blue eyes that were so excited and so happy, and decided right there that I would always love baseball, if only for this moment.

We got some players to sign it after the game. That was even more thrilling for him.

My son was born the year the Brewers went to the World Series. He was one and a half months old, and we had the cutest little Brewers outfit for him, hat and all. We still have a photo floating around here somewhere of him wearing it. He was born to love baseball.

I remember going to a popular local sports bar in downtown Milwaukee one night after a Milwaukee Bucks game. There were players from our team in the bar, and I believe height-wise I came up to their shin. One accidentally stepped on me, and he felt so bad about it, he took a plastic souvenir cup from behind the bar and had his teammates sign it. Again, too cool.

But that was twenty five years ago. I wonder if today’s players would have the same respect for their fans?

Speaking of fans, I am a huge one of the Green Bay Packers. I remember the years they went to the Super Bowl. All four of them, though the first two was when I was only seven and eight.

The last two required mass family gatherings every weekend they played from the last game of the regular season all the way through the playoffs.

The local media went crazy, and all the TV stations had round the clock coverage of our heros’ every move. The anticipation and hope built with each victory. And then then, at last, the final contest. The chance to be the best of the best.

When they won in ’97, tears flowed and so did the champagne. We got an early start the next day buying all the Superbowl winner t-shirts and hats we could find.

I don’t recall many positive events to have ever drawn so much emotion and so much commotion as when one of our local teams make it to the big show. People become united in an endless well of team pride, and even non-sports fans get into the spirit. Fans scream, “we’re number one!” on sidewalks and porches. Cars honk their horn as they drive by. People stream into any public place that offer a chance to celebrate with their fellow fans. For a while, we connect with our community a little more than usual, and we all become a little friendlier. Nothing wrong with that.

Nowadays, the only sport I play is trying to get to my chair before my cat does. I am older and a lot slower now, so she usually wins. But when I turn on the television and see my favorite teams playing, it brings me back to my youth. To warm, sunny afternoons with a football or a wiffle ball game with my family. To the weekends and the gatherings and the food, and the laughing and the shouting, and yes, sometimes the crying. Whether you’re a player or a fan, sports bring people together in a way very unique from anything else.

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