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skylarsblue · 1 year

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this isn’t really a request or anythin’, just a thought. 141 havin to deal with a southern team member who only gets progressively more accented the more they get mad.

100% projecting here

pretty unaccented, American, whatever —> ✨ anger ✨ —> Memphis called they want their “oo-ol” back (translation: oil).

i have no idea if they’d be annoyed, charmed, or just confused.

✦141 + Los Vaqueros With A Southern!Teammate✦

(My first C.o.D request and it's for pEOPLE LIKE MEEEE, southern traassh! This my shit. Fair warning, I've never played one of these games cause I don't have a console, so if they're ooc, please tell me how I can improve writing them!)

✦Random headcanons, Southern slang, GN!Reader, Race neutral as well but American, implied to be Oklahoma/Texas style southern, aggressive cursing because I have the mouth of a sailor, a bit of Google Translated Spanish(forgive me), Rudy doesn't have a color cause I ran out I'm so sorry precious boy✦

✧Simon Riley✧

He's not real fond of Americans, admittedly. He's got a little voice in the back of his head that automatically associates Americans with betrayal, but he'll keep quiet.

He cringes at your accent at first. He's not fond of Americans, even less so of most American accents. It's a very thick drawl and after being in the team for a while, he'll tease you about it, telling you to "Speak English" like he does with Soap.

He shuts up when you bring up his Manchester accent being illegible sometimes. It's all in good fun though!

After proving you're trustworthy, he'll basically call you his "special American", to show you're an exception. He will never stop poking fun at you though, just as you do to him. Particularly when you say something intensely American.

"Look at her ass, out here pitchin' a bitch fit with a tail on it." "...What in the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

He'll give you one thing, you treat beef well, which he appreciates. Given he used to be a butcher's apprentice. Americans from the southern states know how to make a hamburger and we know how to cook a steak, that's like...the one thing we can brag about.

If you're like me and you dunk on your own country, he thinks those moments are really funny. Especially when you sound so American.

He probably enjoys you being angry the most. He loves it so much, he thinks it's extremely entertaining. Especially if you're a more small, non-intimidating person on the surface.

"Fuck off! Out here makin' a damn mess of the place, runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off, wrecking my shit! I outta whoop yer ass!" "Should we step in?" "No no, let it go on a little longer..."

Probably tries to make your call sign something heavily American stereotypical, in a funny way. (ie. Bald Eagle, Stars(JILL!), Shotgun, etc.)

A bit hypocritical but if you have a farm with cows on it, he doesn't really wanna see them. His first thought his how to butcher them from years of training, and if they're not butcher cows, he feels kinda bad for thinking it.

Congrats! You're the only American Simon likes, aside from maybe Alex but I don't know for sure.

✧Johnny MacTavish✧

Laughs when you first speak. He apologizes but like, he laughs at you, I'm sorry.

Definitely asks if you have a cowboy hat, and he will lose his fucking mind if you do. The more cowboy shit you own the more he's entertained, especially if you wear them around base/on field.

He understands you super well but no one understands how or why. Johnny explains that it's just because he's good with accents. He'll hear weird euphemisms and, though it may take a second, 9 times out of 10 he'll get it.

"Fucker's so cheap I bet he pinches quarters til they scream." "What?! What does that mean!?" "Means he's a penny pincher! He's cheap. C'mon, that one was obvious, keep up, yeah?"

If you're a woman/female leaning, he'll call you cowgirl. If you're male/male leaning, you get the nickname cowboy. Non-binary/Genderfluid/Etc.? He calls you partner, and he'll always say it with a shitty imitation of your accent.

Asks you a buncha questions about American-Southern stereotypes to see if they're true. If they are, he gets really giggly about it.

If they ever have a mission in America, he'll insist you lead them everywhere. He likes seeing how you interact with people, especially if you're in a big city where some nutsos are. This man would have a blast watching you in a Waffle House. It's the only time he likes seeing you yell in public, thinks it's hilarious.

If you have any farm experience he's gotta see it. He needs to. I don't care if the farm is your great grandpa's and you haven't been there in a decade, you better take him to see the cows and tractors right now, immediately. Especially if there are chickens. He loves chickens.

He makes fun of your accent but he thinks it's really hot sometimes and he's very annoyed at himself for it. Particularly when you speak softly, trying to console/comfort him, slipping in a typical southern pet name.

"You alright there, sugar? Took quite a hit there. You need anythin', sweetheart?" "...I uh, uhm, ahem. N-no, no I'm alright." "Are ya sure, sweetpea? Your face is goin' redder than a tomato."" NO, I'M GOOD."

Manages to get the entire team to call you a southern callsign, whether you like it or not. He'll force it to stick. Most are animal-based too. (Cowboy/Cowgirl, Chick/Rooster, Bull/Heffer, Big Tex, etc.)

Your accent grows on him significantly. While he thinks you're very sexy when you're angry, he's really affected when you're soft and sweet. (bonus note; if you're faux sweet when you're mad? The whole "Oh...bless your heart" type thing? He's prolly gonna pop a boner, not gonna lie.)

✧John Price✧

He's not American but there are a lot of American things he likes, admittedly. Specifically, old western stuff, horses, ranches, etc. That whole aesthetic is something he's always enjoyed. He won't say it, but he has a particular fondness for your accent when he first hears it.

Doesn't understand you when your accent gets super thick but he thinks it's entertaining nevertheless. Unlike Ghost or Soap, he doesn't comment on it, because he doesn't think he has room to talk. Maybe he'd do it once and then you'd throw it back at him and he'd realize that...yeah he has no room to talk.

He's a calm individual but he will yell when necessary. But, what he finds admirable is when you jump in and yell for him. Like you can read his mind and he can save his throat, watching the people who were pissing him off jump back at thick southern curses being yelled at them.

"I outta jerk a damn knot in your fuckin' tail, ya fuckin' dumbass! Didn't ya momma ever teach you respect?! You ain't ever gonna talk to my damn captain like that again or I'll skin yer fuckin' hide!" "Ahem, thank you, sergeant, that's enough."

Buys you a cowboy hat if you don't already have one, for sure. Whether you take it as a genuine gift or you take it as a light jab at your roots, he'll get a lil' dopey smile if you decide to wear it. Gaz definitely makes fun of you two. Soap points out that Gaz also wears a hat religiously and he & Ghost start callin' you the hat trio.

Man melts at southern-drawl-spoken pet names. He truly does. Much like Soap, there's something about it that makes the tension leaves his body, though he's not really sure why.

"You alright there, Cap? You're lookin' bout ready to drop..." "I'm alright soldier, just need to finish this." "Captain, it'll be there in the mornin'. How bout a nap instead, huh? You can't go workin' yourself to the bone, hun. It ain't healthy."" ...oh alright, just for a bit though." "Sure, sugarcube, just long enough to have some tea."

He'll probably pick up on a few pet names and call you them. Whether you wanna take it as platonic or not, it's really just a sweet gesture that he wants to return. Pet names are kinda just...a staple of southern slang. It's part of the accent that he really enjoys, therefore he wants to return it.

If he ends up helping you with a call sign, it's going to be a really sweet & nice one. Or perhaps something that's from an old western he's seen. Probably based on something you've said before. (Sugarcube, Lasso, Hun/Hunny.) Bonus points if you get a super sweet name that doesn't match your stature, he thinks it's funny if it throws people off.

Piggybacking off the last one, I think it'd be real funny if your call name was "Sugarcube" and you're like...a 6'0"+ buff dude with a deep voice. That shit would be funny. Anyway!

If you own/live on a ranch or farm in your off time, he'll feel honored if you invite him to see it. Don't worry, he won't laze around and just appreciate the cute animals. (Looking at you Soap) He's got a little bit of experience with cows & horses, so he'll do his best to help you move the hay and such. Don't let him drive a tractor though, it's one of the few things he just can't do.

John doesn't play favorites, he's fair and precise to his entire team. But...off the field? ...you might get a little favoritism, he's got a weakness for bein' sweettalked through southern drawl. Don't let that go to your head though!

✧Kyle Garrick✧

Kyle doesn't care too much, he thinks every country has shitty stuff and cool stuff. He's a pretty big believer in silver linings. While America is far from his favorite country, and he knows the common trope of uh...less than tolerant people from the south, that doesn't affect how he sees you at all.

He does snicker at your accent sometimes, but only when you say something really aggressively southern. Especially making up random southern phrases that he doesn't understand at all. He finds it endearing.

"We just gotta haul ass and go tear shit up, run through like a buncha Tasmanian devils, right?" "...I understood...some of those words. Uh, sure, right." "We need to move our asses and fuck shit up." "Ah, okay. Could've just said that, but alright."

Thinks you're kinda scary when you're mad. He'll be the type to try and calm you down, but he understands if it's someone who deserves it. Not that he doesn't find your drawl fun to listen too, especially if someone was being an ass, but he doesn't like seeing you upset.

If the person you're yelling at was being a real big ass, he'll let you yell for a little, but step in. However, if you're doing condescending rage? Oh, go for it, do it all you want. He thinks it's hilarious.

Finds it particularly sweet if you're angry on the teams/his behalf. He can fight his own battles but he thinks it's a big sign of trust, friendship, etc. that you feel the need to defend him.

"Bless your heart, your brain ain't firing off on all cylinders is it, hun? Tsk, that's a shame..." "Excuse me?!" "You're excused, sweetpea. You're not gonna talk to my team that way, but you can turn your happy ass around and walk away. I ain't gonna have you disrespectin' the people who've been fightin' the good fight. Have a lovely day!" "How can you sound so sweet and yet so angry at the same time?" "Southern livin', sugar. Southern livin'."

Gaz is a bit of a foodie type, he likes trying cooking from any area he can go to. Southern cooking would...it'd be a new weakness for sure. A lot of it is unhealthy, yes, but he doesn't give a shit. It tastes good. Sometimes he thinks American food is an absolute sin and a disgrace, and he'll state it as such. Usually, it's stuff you agree on. Like bacon-covered donuts or fried butter. That shit's egregious. But things like southern-style chicken or rib-eye on a grill? You're gonna make him swoon with them roasted vegetables. Cooking for him is a surefire way to make you an unapologetic favorite in his book.

He won't say anything at the little jokes that people jab at you for your accent, but he will tell someone off if they say something that's clearly not funny and upsets you. Like trying to imply you're stupid because you come from Texas. (Speaking from personal experience) He thinks it's such a dumb thing to give someone shit over and he won't hesitate to say they're an idiot for trying to use it against you.

Hates sweet tea, I'm sorry. It's just tea but he can't stand it. He'll drink the unsweetened tea you make, but he'll make a dramatic face if he mixes them up. Something that you always laugh at.

He's great at driving basically any vehicle. Helicopters to mini coopers. He's never controlled a tractor before, but if you sit him in one and tell him the levers, it'll take him like...three minutes to get it down perfectly. Definitely gets a smug ass grin if you show you're amazed.

If he helps get you your call sign, he won't necessarily make it based on where you're from, it'll probably be based on a nickname, skill, or crucial event in your career. (Crash; you were thrown through a window, Hotshot; skill for sniping, etc.) But if he were to have one based on your southern ways? Sweet Tea, both for the fact you make it and the pet name you sometimes call him. (sweet pea)

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Like Ghost, he's not super fond of Americans. His experience with most Americans are annoying tourists and Graves, leaves a pretty bad impression. He comes across unintentionally snappy when he first meets you, but Rudy will point it out, and he'll correct himself.

You aren't the annoying people he's dealt with and he knows it's not fair to say you are. Definitely talks shit on America though, and he'll honestly give you respect if you do the same. Since he's used to the kind of Americans that think being American give them a right to treat others like shit. He hates entitlement.

If you speak Spanish, he's gonna try really hard to not laugh at how your accent affects some words, but it's really hard. He means it in kind and if you're still learning when you meet him, he's proud when he hears you doing well in comprehension and sentences. Still, sounds just a lil silly.

He loves when your accent gets thick from rage, but he his favorite thing is if you speak Spanish in a rage, with your accent on top of it. It's a combination that fills his brain with serotonin.

"Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" "Wha- Haha! What does that mean?!" "Did they say some super weird analogy?" "Si! They did!" "Yeaaah, they do that a lot."

He's notorious for having a naturally flirty personality, it's just how he's always been. Hence why not much phases him, but he does get a quite wide & genuine grin if you flirt back, making your accent extra intense. Especially with the pet names, another man who likes sweet words.

Thinks you having a southern call sign is really cute, especially if it's something your team calls you exclusively. He thinks it shows your endearment to your team. However, if your call sign is something you insist is only for friends, he'll get super giddy about being allowed to call you it.

If he were to pick? (Belle; Like southern belle whether you're fem! or not, Rodeo, and he might call you Americano- but like, in the coffee way. Like it's a sweet nickname, not just him saying your nationality)

Southern hospitality is something he is not used to. Again, bad experience with Americans. So if you explain all the various manners and nice gestures that are considered expected in your home state? He's completely confused, wondering why the Americans he's met don't keep that attitude up when they leave home.

Again, really likes it if you use southern pet names. Especially if you're trying to console him after a really tough day/mission. For some reason it really helps, like a cup of warm coffee on a cold morning.

"Aye, don't stress yourself over it, darlin'. Bad things happen that we can't control, you did everything you could and you were great at it. Don't let it eat at'cha, honey-bun." "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" "Anytime, big guy. Now, you wanna see me try and fail again to open a de la Rosa without breaking it?" "Aha! How about I show you a trick to do it instead?"

Again, like Ghost, you're his special American. Gaz calls you his emotional-support American once and he thinks it's really funny, he'll call you as such every now and then.

✧Rodolfo Parra✧

Sweet darling man. He has nothing against you being American, nothing. But...he cannot understand anything you're saying. He's doing his best but he really doesn't know. He can feel his brain frying every time you bring up something super southern, trying to understand.

He'll have to lean over to your team to ask for a translation, anyone but Soap & Price will tack on an "I think, I'm not sure" at the end of their explanation. If he hears you use a phrase more than once, he'll add it to a little list of notes with the translation underneath it. Treats it like a whole different language. It's adorable.

Like Alejandro, he thinks it's funny if you speak Spanish with your accent. He'll keep a straight face because he knows you can't help it, but man is it fun to hear.

He's not very fond of a lot of yelling if he can avoid it, Rudy prefers disputes to be handled with calm words if possible. But he understands that sometimes it's necessary. Still, he'd want to try and calm you down if you're yelling. But, if you're just acting sickeningly-sweet, kind words that are clearly dripping with venom? He'll just watch. He thinks that shows you handle yourself very well and it's pretty attractive to him, not gonna lie.

"Awww I'm so sorry you're upset, poor thing. God bless you, sir, you have a lovely day. I hope that stick up your ass doesn't hurt too bad." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" "Shh, sugar, it's fine. He wants to be rude, I can be rude back. An eye for an eye. Don't worry your pretty lil' head bout it, sweetheart." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas."

He's really hesitant about American food. It smells great sometimes but all he hears about American food is that it's greasy, or too salty, etc. Still, he won't deny any meal you make. He thinks it's rude to deny food unless it's something you're allergic to.

He ends up liking a few things, but he is biased to his home cooking. But if you start making his favorite foods, or somehow combine the styles in an honoring way? Oh, those are his favorites. He's particularly fond of American sweets though!

Please bake for this man, bake for him, I beg. Apple pie is an American staple for a reason and he'll jokingly claim he'll move to America if it means he can have apple pie every day.

"Rudy, that's your fourth piece! Ahaha, if I knew you liked it so much I woulda made ya more." "Ay, please do! ¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" "Alright then, hun, I'll be sure to make you all the apple pie ya want."

Rudy really likes if you wear stuff like a cowboy hat. He's not really sure why, he just thinks it's really cute. If it's a staple of your whole look(like John's hat), seeing you protective over it, he thinks that's really cute. If you're protective of your cowboy hat but let him hold it/put it on his head to hold it, it's gonna fluster him. Even if your guy's relationship is completely platonic.

If you live near the border of Texas & Mexico, it makes visiting you pretty easy, so he'll have no qualms about going back and forth when off duty. He'll be more comfortable in his home but he won't turn down the offer to see your home, especially if it's a ranch. He's got a soft spot for farm animals. (Particularly goats)

If he has any control of how you choose your call sign, he'll likely pick something the same way Gaz does. But, if you have a thing about what certain people call you - like how only Ghost can call Soap "Johnny" - He feels really warm and fuzzy if he gets a special privilege.

(Translations; "Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" - "You're a fucking idiot - as useful as a bull's tits/about as useful as tits on a bull!" "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" - "Thank you, bella/beauty. I needed it." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" - "Soldier! You can't say that..." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas." - "God, sometimes you amaze and terrify me." "¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" - "It was sent from heaven!")

#call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo x reader

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inamagicalhallucination · 11 months

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ok gift giving is a big part of atsushi’s love language

this wasn’t meant to be long but-

whether its becuz the tiger’s cat-desire to hunt for the agency translated to something more human (along with cooking but my cooking atsushi headcanons will pop out sometime else) or just becuz atsushi has never been gifted anything pre-agency and to him its something very precious who knows

it’s not that he spends ages pouring over what to give the agency members (well not always) its more like if he goes to the store and sees a type of candy ranpo likes he’ll buy it for him

when atsushi’s new at wanting to give his loved ones gifts, he does over think it tho cmon its atsushi

like he’ll see a nice pen, buy it for kunikida, but then he’ll feel like its such a dumb little thing and he should’ve put more effort into a gift because of that he ends up hoarding a lot of trinkets becuz he’ll see them and buy them as presents but be too shy to give them up

(and he’ll also spend ages pouring over what the perfect present for everyone would be but always finding some fault in his ideas)

it’s not until dazai’s breaking into atsushi’s apartment to teach him the joys of stealing other people’s credit cards that he notices a neat stack of containers with atsushi’s friends and stuff’s name on it and asks atsushi about it that something ever happens

dazai: don’t tell me atsushi, you were planning on chopping us all up and storing us into these containers ? u’d need bigger ones for that by the way

atsushi, horrified: WHAT?? of course not!!! these are-

atsushi, flustered: these are just things that i dont know i bought becuz i thought you’d like them. but theyre silly so i didn’t give-

dazai, already opening his own box: ATSUSHI!

atsushi, trying to pull him away: what

dazai, pulling out a tiny void eyed black cat keychain: did you buy this for me? how did you know i wanted it?

atsushi:

atsushi: you wanted it?

dazai, lying but atsushi doesn’t need to know that: yeah i wanted something like this. how cruel atsushi, buying it and storing it away~ not giving it to me :(

atsushi, pleased and happy: do you um want to look at the other stuff ?

so essentially dazai in his own strange way of not actually addressing the problem convinces atsushi to give his silly little gifts to the agency members

(and tho he did not want anything like the keychain before, he’s quite pleased by it and all the other things that atsushi got for him)

so atsushi in a moment of joy and happiness places all the containers in front of each members door with his name signed and bolts (kyouka’s is placed near her stuff right before he leaves since he wakes up before her) (things for non-agency members like lucy are left in places where they work/hang out a lot) (fukuzawa’s in front of his office doors)

the morning at work, atsushi’s shaking with nervousness

the first one to arrive after him is kunikida (who’s usually the first to arrive)

kunikida greets atsushi politely - theres something about him that seems different, a little red on his cheeks but atsushi cant tell what; he’s too busy being relieved that kunikida isn’t upset about his gifts

when kunikida opens his book, the pen he pulls out is the one atsushi gifted him and atsushi is immediately filled with warmth and contentment (when he moves his head, atsushi notices that his hair is tied with the ribbon atsushi gave him)

kunikida doesn’t say anything but his gratitude and his appreciation for atsushi’s gifts is clear (also he may or may not ruffle atsushi’s hair more than usual that day)

after kunikida and dazai’s appreciation, atsushi is more excited about everyone’s reactions

junichiro is flustered and pleased and thanks him profusely, grinning the entire day - naomi tells him about each gift and why she likes it

kenji tries to gift him a cow which is banned from the office by kunikida - who points out that atsushi wouldn’t know what to do with it, so kenji comes back with chickens, and then after the same thing happens, gives atsushi stuff from his garden

haruno and the other staff all thank atsushi with hugs or shoulder pats

ranpo doesn’t look at atsushi as he approaches him but he’s wearing the pins atsushi bought him and the fact that he’s holding out a candy for atsushi to take is telling enough

yosano thanks him fiddling with the bracelet atsushi bought

kyouka apologizes for not giving him anything and atsushi has to explain to her that he’s just getting gifts becuz he wants to not becuz he wants them to give hm something back

fukuzawa does the old person affection thing by placing his hand on atsushi head ya know the thing

anyway

lucy is blushing when he goes down to the cafe and calls him dumb and then gives him extra cake so-

the only person who atsushi’s bought gifts for but hasn’t given them to is akutagawa

their relationship isn’t as hostile as before but atsushi doesn’t know what to do with it but he thinks theres a tiny chance that akutagawa might like them so he makes up his mind and ships them to him (he does not include a return address or his name)

akutagawa, climbing through atsushi’s window a few days later: it was you wasn’t it?

atsushi: stop climbing through my window asshole????

akutagawa, coughing and showing atsushi the black bracelet atsushi got him: answer me

atsushi, remembering the gifts, flushing: wh-what ? noooo- I uh. I mean i don’t know what you’re talking about

akutagawa: it has to be you. no one else would give me something as strange as a plastic skeleton

atsushi, weakly: it fit ur aesthetic ?

akutagawa, ‘glaring’ at him:

atsushi: ...sorry?

akutagawa, looking away, coughing, ears red: whatever. i don’t like being in debt. tell me what you want, i’ll buy it for u

atsushi: oh no no no. you don’t have to do that! honest. it was just a few silly things that reminded me of... you... r u okay ur face’s red

akutagawa, grabbing atsushi and pulling him towards the window: shut up im buying u dinner

atsushi, very confused: ok?

anyway yeah

might add a part 2 becuz i wasn’t gonna post the start of atsushi giving gifts but just him giving ppl gifts but i cant help myself

also howd akutagawa get here

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greyias · 9 months

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A Fond Farewell to Act 1

After dithering about a fashion faux pas most unfortunate, and with nothing else to do on all of the maps, it is finally time for me to bid a fond farewell to Act 1 of Baldur’s Gate 3, and via the Mountain Pass head into the uncertain transition stage to Act 2 (and presumably the consequences of my actions).

But before I go. A moment. To reflect on my favorite memories in this journey so far:

Alfira’s song and The Harpy Rock Concert

Aravyn chickening out of lying to an evil mirror, Astarion shoving her aside to show her how its done, only to fail so spectacularly on every single conversation check the mirror spits out a giant orb of molten death that starts chasing us around the room spewing deadly AOEs as I loudly scream “OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO WHY CANT WE TARGET IT OH NO” and the entire party flees for their life, nearly locking Astarion in the cellar with the death orb he summoned

The Glitterbomb/Musical Mini-Heist

Best Quasit Girl

Ari seeing giant claw marks a dragon very obviously gouged into stone, failing her intelligence check, and then proudly declaring it the artistic statement of some mysterious person

Gale nearly dying from a concussion because I decided to put off taking a long rest and instead do a little lute concert tour around the Druid Grove, and one NPC loved it so much he enthusiastically hurled his tip of a single gold piece in the direction of my singing paladin — and straight into Gale’s skull and taking off 6 of his precious few remaining HP

Discovering the mighty cow summon spells

Operation War Drum

My dumbass Paladin talking to Minthara, and winning every single persuasion check, so that she entered into a conversation to very earnestly insist that this random forest is where the secret Druid Grove is, and have Minthara scream in frustration that they already checked there and to go FIND IT, only for us to return five seconds later and say that we totes got the real location this time and point to the same spot on the map. About five time in a row.

Halsin getting the whole party stuck in eternal combat for no other reason than he was a bear, and apparently the game took that personally

That time Astarion gleefully informed Aravyn she was unfuckable, only for a full 24 hours later to decide that he was actually jealous that she considered Gale prettier than him (but also approved of this??), and basically yelled out “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED” before flouncing off

The entirety of the Auntie Ethel adventure freaking me (the player) out so much I, the notorious loot goblin, refused to touch ANY food or beverage in the entire cursed swamp even after finishing all of the quests and clearing the area

Nearly blowing up a dwarf trapped in a field of flammable mushrooms, and somehow both he and the valuable quest item miraculously survived. Only for my dumbass Paladin to eat the quest item mid-battle for no reason at all, and me not realizing until twenty hours of gameplay in that I’ve doomed the dwarf and his unpleasant wife to a life of destitution and also preventing one of my companions from regaining precious lost memories.

Getting a TPK several times in a row from the giant landshark in the Underdark, before finally beating it with actual tactical smarts. Only to revive it with a temporary NPC ally as a spawn so it could help us in fights because we are smart and tactical now. And then forgetting to dismiss it after the temporary NPC ally turned against us, only to return to the same area several hours later where we once again nearly died to the now undead manifestation of our hubris

Smiling and waving at whoever is on the end of those scrying eyes like we’re in some sort of beauty pageant

100 Foot Sharran Walkway of Doom

Rolling a nat 1 on a wisdom save after picking up a cursed locket

Robo-Hugs

I will never forget you Act 1. We laughed. We cried. Made many poor life decisions that I’m sure are going to come back and bite me in the ass very soon. But for now, we must march onwards into the unknown, where I’m sure Ari and the Tadfools will probably almost blow up the multiverse or something, at the rate they’re going.

#shamelessly stealing the phrase ‘tadfools’ because it fits this beloved pack of weirdos so well #grey's bg3 tag #bg3 posting #bg3 spoilers #long post #NO CUTS you must scroll past all of my dumb bg3 adventures #oc: aravyn #ari's og campaign

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walker-bait-1973 · 8 months

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Two and a Half Months

Daryl x Y/N

Warnings: None, just Fluffy Bunny Stuff :)

Author's Notes: Daryl and Y/N live on their own in the woods, making their own life together. Hilltop & Alexandria are thriving.

Masterlist

Daryl had left for a big hunting trip two months ago with some close friends Rick, Glenn, Abraham, and Carl. Hey and Y/N were getting low on meat, as was Alexandria. The walled community had recently acquired more residents. Plus children were being born all the time. Their production wasn’t keeping up, so they needed to supplement with trips like these. Daryl was always willing to pitch in and help.

Y/N stayed at the cabin as there was a lot of harvesting that needed to be done in their garden. Upon one of their salvages, they’d found an old country store with a few boxes of canning jars and lids. Y/N quickly nabbed them knowing that one day they’d be planting. She and Daryl were resourceful people, but they’d also become more and more self-sufficient over the past several years.

Y/N started to collect the precious vegetables from the garden that they’d so meticulously planned. Cucumbers and tomatoes were the first she’d taken. Today she was canning some tomatoes, squishing some down for the juice to make the sauce, and canning the cukes into pickles.

Dog followed her everywhere, becoming extremely protective of her lately. She petted his head and tossed him a tomato. Dog preferred meat but would eat veggies if Y/N offered them.

“Maybe Daddy will be home today,” she told him, looking at the x’s on the scrap of cardboard on the wall. There were so many. That’s how they kept track of days.

She decided it was a good time to pickle eggs too. Daryl loved them. As she was out by the chicken coop, she heard someone call out to her. It was Carol.

“Hey, you!” She waved from the path that only a few close-knit friends knew of leading to the cabin that hid nestled deep in the woods.

“Hi! What news do you bring from Hilltop?” Y/N asked opening the gate for her. Carol swept in with a flourish and hugged the young woman tightly.

“Well, we have seven new calves. That makes two dozen cows now. We’ve twelve chicken coops. Someone found a peacock running around and brought the bloody thing to the community.”

“Peacocks are beautiful,” Y/N laughed.

Carol shook her head, “the children chase it relentlessly.”

“Just be thankful you have only one. If you had the opposite sex you’d hear their mating calls all the time. They sound horrible.”

Carol laughed, petting Dog.

“Oh, before I forget,” she pulled a large bag out of her pack and handed it to Y/N, “Fresh tobacco for Daryl’s cigs.”

“Thank you, he took the last of it with him on this trip. He’ll be very happy to have more,” Y/N shook her head, “come on in for some tea.”

She offered Carol some freshly cut vegetables. She snacked on them as the tea kettle boiled.

“Y/N, don’t you get lonely out here when he’s gone?”

“Are you crazy? I have too much to do to get lonely. Besides, I have Dog.”

“You’re becoming more like him every time I see you.” She thought of how good Daryl was being on his own.

“Well, I chose to be with him, I knew what I was getting myself into. Besides, if I got too lonely, I’d come to see you.”

“My door is always open.”

“I know and I’m grateful for that.”

The women talked throughout the morning and once the sun reached noon, Carol was on her way, taking some canned goods with her.

Y/N was deep asleep when Daryl finally arrived late in the night two weeks later. He quietly put things away, hanging the meat in the smokehouse. He stripped off his clothes and took a quick bath, knowing that Y/N would want him somewhat cleaner once he hit the bed sheets.

Dog, who’d met him at the door, was now laying on the rug next to the tub. He’d obviously missed Daryl.

Daryl couldn’t wait to see his girl again. He’d missed her. He crawled into bed and spooned her from behind. His hands dove under the blankets to rub her body slowly while he nuzzled her neck. She smelled of wildflowers and honey soap.

“Y/N…” he whispered huskily. She stirred, rolling over in the dark.

“You’re home!”

“Mhm…”

“Please tell me you got a lot of meat.”

“I got lots a meat, don’t you worry none.”

They kissed passionately, mouths hooked together. He captured her in his arms and led her to straddle his hips. She took him in and made love with him until both were exhausted and wrapped together to catch some sleep.

In the morning, Daryl was still snoozing heavily when Y/N awoke. She decided to let him sleep and quietly went down the stairs from the loft. She started the coffee on the stove and began to prepare a hearty breakfast for her returned love.

Before long, Daryl came down, sliding a shirt over his head as he did so.

“Mornin’.” He greeted her with a smile and kissed her quickly.

“Morning, Daryl.”

“Gonna take Dog out for his mornin’ piss.”

She nodded, “I went out to the smokehouse. You really filled it up. Thank you.”

He nodded, shot her a boyish grin, and headed outside with Dog. While Dog was wandering around outside the fence Daryl noticed some wild mushrooms. He gathered them into a simplified pouch he made with the bottom of his t-shirt. Y/N loved mushrooms. And tonight they’d feast on some delicious bear meat with sauteed mushrooms.

When he got back to the house he dumped them into the sink.

“Mushrooms?” She asked excitedly.

He nodded, “were a lot more, but it’s enough.”

“Thank you!” she kissed his cheek happily.

As they sat at their large wooden table Daryl dug in with enthusiasm, scarfing down the eggs, potatoes, and bacon. He drank two cups of coffee and when he realized that Y/N was only staring at him, her plate still full he asked, “y’all gonna eat?”

“I thought I was going to, but I don’t feel very good this morning.”

He frowned, “what’s wrong?”

She cleared her throat and walked around to sit on the bench next to him, “Daryl… I’m about two and a half months late.”

Clueless he asked, “late for what?”

She licked her lips, “my monthly.”

They’d fit a lot of loving in the night before he’d left for the trip. Passion was high, and both savored each breath, thrust, and kiss.

Y/N took his fork from his grip and drew his hand down to rest on her belly. He realized what she was hinting at, and his deep-set eyes widened.

“Y’all mean…”

She nodded, a huge smile on her face. Daryl turned to her and hugged her tight, rubbing her back slowly as he kissed her mouth.

“A baby jellybean,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, “can’t believe it Y/N.”

She laughed as he rubbed her tummy slowly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be happy. We’ve never talked about this before.”

The truth was they’d never been careful, and nothing ever came of it. She was right on time every month. Daryl secretly thought that maybe he was infertile, but it didn’t come up, so he kept quiet about it. They’d both been happy with how their lives were together without children. He’d think about it from time to time figuring it was probably a blessing because he wasn’t sure if he’d be a good father or not considering his past.

“Naw, we didn’t,” he said, “but it’s a good thing.” He smoothed her hair back, “it’s a real good thing.”

She nodded in agreement, “a really, really good thing,” she giggled. He smirked and hugged her again.

“We’re gonna have to take ya to see Siddiq. Maybe they got them vitamins Maggie took.”

“Maybe.”

“We should head out right now.”

She laughed, “Daryl, I’ve waited this long, a few more days won’t hurt. I want to spend some time with you first.”

“Are ya sure?”

She nodded, “I know we lived so long in the fear of dead ones, but we’ve had the vaccine, so the baby is safe too from… anything like that happening.”

Daryl recalled Lori and how she got scared when the baby wasn’t moving for several days. If that baby had died and turned… Lori was as good as dead. It was sad that they ended up losing her in childbirth. Now some of the communities had ultrasound machines and better meds from herbalists. Siddiq and Denise and several other doctors learned how to properly use forceps if needed and do cesarean sections with high success rates. He couldn’t have been more relieved that the vaccine worked and that they’d both been able to get it. If anything, this was the safest time for Y/N to be pregnant.

Y/N knew Daryl was mulling everything over. She got up and started clearing off the dishes, scraping scraps into Dog’s bowl. Daryl watched her for a while, just blown away by how amazing this woman was. She was strong, independent, and a hard worker with the same goals as him. And she was his comfort zone, his go-to place of love, support, and solace. Now they’d be adding another life to their home.

He approached her from behind, snuggling up to her as she washed dishes, reaching around her hips to rub her tummy. He kissed the back of her head before kissing her shoulder.

She smiled to herself and said, “it’s something, isn’t it? We built this house, made a home, and now we’ve created a new life.”

“Hope I can be a good Dad…”

“I know you will be. You’re not your father. You are a loving, nurturing, kind man. And you will be the best Dad ever.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon

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lucifersmockingbird · 1 year

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I love working with animal spirits because they're so brutally honest and will face you to your own lies even if you don't notice them. I've learned a lot from them.

A little unrelated, but I use chicken bones for divination. And they're two chickens. One that's really nice and will work anytime and the other... Well, she just WON'T do ANYTHING or will mess up the answers if she doesn't get her corn and water first.

And there's this rattlesnake snake who will give you headache if you ignore her for too long.

There's a scorpion that will make me dream with scorpions biting me if I forget to give him his dead bugs offerings.

And then there's this cow. She's the nicest but will not hesitate to let me know (aggressively) if I accidentally mistreat an animal. She demanded me that I must honor and thank to every animal I eat, so she could work with me.

Animal spirits are not easy to deal with. They have traumas, they have bad tempers sometimes. They are not my servants, we work together. Animal spirits deserve the same respect and honor that dead humans do.

All life is precious, even in it's death.

#animal magic #witchcraft #spirit work #death magic #necromantic witch #death witch

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miidia · 3 months

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Hello again from this neck of the woods. It's Goose, back with another game title. I will likely follow up on this post in the near future.

Round of applause for this summer 2000 title, ぼくのなつやすみ (boku no natsuyasumi) 'My Summer Vacation'. This is a lovely little sandbox-esque game for the original PlayStation where you follow the story of Boku, a city-living nine-year-old boy who finds himself with relatives out in the country side for a month of summer while his mother prepares to have another baby.

A quick note on the title... while the most obvious translation is as above, 'My Summer Vacation', it's worth noting that the protagonist's name, Boku, also has the meaning of the first person pronoun 'I'. As such, the title can either be read as 'My Summer Vacation' or 'Boku's Summer Vacation'. Either way, we're here to have fun in the sun with Boku.

This game takes place over the course of 31 days. The first day of the game is pretty brief; it kind of feels like those kinds of days a child that just slip by and before you know it the sun has gone down and you're getting sleepy... On this first day, you drive out of the city through the beautiful sunny green countryside to your relatives' quaint homestead. There are chickens, a cow, a dog, plenty of neat insects, and the general atmosphere is one of summertime and ease.

During the extended cut scene of your arrival to this lovely little area, a message comes cross the screen: 「この夏はボクにいったいどんな思い出を残してくれるんだろう...」 'I wonder what kinds of memories this summer will leave me with'. Deep, no? I should also mention that the framing of this entire game is that you are Boku much later in life, reflecting on this summer through photos and other memories. It seems almost too perfect to be true to such an experience... but then you see a close up of a mantis chowing down on a ripped apart butterfly. A healthy dash of grit and unsavory truth to add some color to this beautifully peaceful game.

I got a bit jealous with this one, I won't lie. I've never had family that lives in the 'countryside'. I've certainly never spent over a month with any sort of extended family during my childhood or thereafter. This is not an experience I can relate to. That said, I definitely had nice days and weekends in greener, quieter seaside areas in the summer growing up. Shout out to the beautiful Santa Monica mountain range and Malibu coast.

Beyond the atmosphere, the details are precious, too. Boku's uncle is a potter and has his own studio. Pottery, chickens, cows... now I'm really jealous. You also have two kids near your age to hang out and chat with. They're your cousins Shirabe and Moe. Shirabe is eight, one year younger than you. She's got great personality; you ask her what kind of TV shows she likes and she replies 「え〜と　女の子が好きそうなやつ」 'Uhh... ones that girls like'. She doesn't say this mockingly or sarcastically, it's just her answer! I like it.

More on this to come for sure.

Until next time,

Goose

#ぼくのなつやすみ #boku no natsuyasumi #video games #personal blog #media

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leafticket · 2 years

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ik i still need to finish the last 2 days of the acnh 14 day challenge lol idk why ive been putting it off. but i just came across a post someone did where they shared their favorite villagers (design-wise) in each species and i thought that was a cute idea so i want to give it a try!! here are my opinions lol:

FAVORITE VILLAGERS BY DESIGN — PART 1

alligator: SLY!

i think the alligator model is super cute but im kinda neutral abt all of the designs. sly is my favorite though because i think he’s the cutest out of all of them and i rly love his color scheme! also his eyes are so pretty hehe :”~)

honorable mentions:

roswell — i think his pattern and eyes are so cool!

drago — SUCH a cool concept!!! i just am not loving how garishly pink his mouth is in contrast w all that green 😅

anteater: ZOE!

this girl is SUCH a cutie!!! i love the little like.. baby outfit (?) theme and i think her colors are so pretty… i also (you guessed it) rly rly love her eyes. the three eyelashes are so precious

honorable mentions:

pango — i love her overall design and her colors, i just like zoe a little better lol

antonio — MY BELOVED BABY BOY!!!! i love his eyes and especially his pattern!

bear: KLAUS!

GENUINELY so obsessed w this absolute legend… his face is just so beautiful like look at that nose 😭😭😭 and his curls too ugh just so cute. i also think his colors and eyes (im so predictable lol) are just really great!

honorable mention:

charlise — my mom my sister my cool aunt etc etc. my best friend 🥹 she just has the kindest most knowing face… the most expressive eyes… i love her. my giant gummy bear… my wee sing big rock candy mountain snoodle doodle….

bird: ROBIN!

idk i just love the colors / placements on this guy!! i am a huge fan of primary colors and he absolutely does it for me :D (also look at the highlight on his cheekbones i just noticed it… wtf. king)

honorable mention:

ace — a cool guy with great colors! i just don’t love his eyes rip

bull: NOBODY.

im so sorry 😭😭😭 i just don’t rly like any of the designs. i guess coach is the best of the bunch for me but definitely not enough to feature on my list imo.. i would still love and embrace a bull w all my heart if they moved in though 🥲

cat: TABBY!

GENUINELY obsessed w this girl i need her on my island someday 😭😭😭 her nose is just so cool and i love her stripes! her design / colors have a lot of personality idk i just really enjoy looking at her

honorable mentions:

mitzi — one of my favorites from pocket camp! she’s a cool gal i rly love her colors and her siamese points!

rudy — ive always thought he’s so cute lolll 🥹 he reminds me of the ih*p mascot i think the pancake’s name was rudy lol so he fills me w nostalgia

chicken: BENEDICT!

IN LOVE w this dude’s facial features. his eyes remind me of… OH GOD i forget what it’s called but it’s like the brown teddy bear cub w the angry eyebrows that goes viral on here sometimes? idk. [EDIT: RILAKKUMA!] but more importantly those… DIMPLES? idk what they are but i just adore them. he reminds me of a friend of mine who has extremely prominent dimples so seeing him reminds me of her and always makes me smile! also i think his colors are so cool!

honorable mention:

plucky — i just think she’s neat! she has cool colors and feels very hen-like to me idk lol

cows: NOBODY.

im so sorry 😭😭😭😭 i genuinely want to like the cows and i mean i do… tipper’s design is the most appealing to me out of the four and ofc ive had norma on my island and she was a sweetie. but i just don’t fully love any of their designs ☹️

cubs: TAMMY!

i love tammy’s design so much!! her eyes are rly cool w the two lower lashes and her smile is just so expressive.. and ofc i love yellow 🥹 i almost feel like she should be a bear rather than a cub though? her face feels too like… grown (?) to be on a cub model lol. but i also think having that kind of face on a cub gives her a lot of character! im getting cool mean jock girl at school vibes and i love it lol (also this has me wondering… has anyone ever tried to like graft acnh designs onto other (similar) models? like making bears cubs and cubs bears… swapping bulls and cows, monkeys and gorillas, ostriches and birds, etc… that would be so cool if they did that lol). ANYWAY…

honorable mentions:

maple — ive had her on my island before and in accordance w popular belief she is very cute!

judy — another popular one who i rly like! i think it’s mostly bc of her name though lol i think judy is just such a good name. but i mean her face and gradient are very cute too!

deer: BEAU!

probably my favorite conventionally attractive / celebrated villager LMAO 😭 i just think his eyes are rly cool and his design is just so… idk. wholesome and comforting? yeah

honorable mentions:

lopez — i love this guy’s eye style and pink eye shadow! his colors are just rly cool

zell — SUCH a cool design. and look at those curly horns!! :D

dog: BUTCH!

butch’s design is just so pleasant to look at idk! he is the dog ever 😭 he just is like really comforting… i hope my future dog will have the same aura as him lol

honorable mentions:

bea — one of my old residents / dreamies!! she’s absolutely gorgeous 🥹

benjamin — MY BABY BOY MY DARLING MY ANGEL!!!! his nose… his whiskers… 😭🥹💓‼️

maddie — a cutie!!

marcel — such a funky design! i think his whiskers are super cute hehe

duck: MALLARY!

this girl reminds me of… omg im so sorry 😭 but like the girl in the esch*ton 9000 meme. w the pixie cut and the :3 smile. LMFAOOOO but i think that girl is very pretty (SORRY) and i think mallary is too! her eyes are rly nice and i like her kinda edgy sideswept bangs! (also i just thought of another (probably better) comparison: the one and only broadway legend and wlw icon miss j3nn c0llela 🥴🥰)

honorable mentions:

gloria — i think her eyes are SOOOO cool. ilysmge i love you so much gloria’s eyes

ketchup — not the biggest fan of food-inspired villagers but ketchup is a cutie!

that’s all i can fit in for part 1 bc of the mobile photo limit lol! come back tmrrw for part 2 (i’ll try to do a post every day and then maybe return for the last 2 days of the 14 day challenge 🥴)

#animalese #favorite villagers by design #idk how many parts this is gonna have.. im guessing at least 3-4 depending on how many species i skip but let’s see how it goes

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paledreamlandtraveler · 3 months

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Life is a fascinating journey that presents us with countless opportunities and challenges. It is a delicate balance between joy and sorrow, success and failure, love and heartbreak. Each day brings new experiences and lessons, shaping us into the individuals we are meant to become. Life is unpredictable, filled with twists and turns that test our resilience and character. It is a tapestry of relationships, accomplishments, and personal growth. We must cherish every moment and embrace the beauty of it, for it is the sum of these moments that define our existence. Life is a precious gift, and it is up to us to make the most of it.

Hi everyone!! This is my story, so please read it! My story from childhood to adulthood. First of all, I was born on November 12, 2005, and I also live in the province of Negros Occidental. My father told me that the day I was born, I'm such a quiet baby girl, and I'm also so small, like a 1 liter of Coca-Cola. Then I grew up with my little younger brother. A few years later, I was 5 years old, and my little was 4 years old. We always fight each other because I don't like his attitude. He always doesn't like things to me. I was mad at that attitude. I'm always jealous of him because if we fight each other, and my mother always told me, don't fight with your brother because you are the order sister of your younger brother. That's why sometimes I get mad at my mother, hahahaha. A few years later, I was 9 years old and my little brother was 8 years old. At that age, I knew how to ride a horse, and my father had lots of animals like goats, cows, and carabaos. That is why, at such a young age, I knew how to ride a horse. My father taught me to learn how to ride. Also, at my young age, I know how to cook rice because my parents taught me how to cook and wash dishes. My father and mother always go to the farm. My father plated sugarcane, and he also plated vegetables. We always come with my father and mom to go to the farm to help them. Me and my brother always go to the river with my cousin and friends. If we go to the river, my mother always tells me to bring the clothes to wash at the river after that. We do swimming. I'm so happy at that moment because we are enjoying it. I have a lot offriends. Wee always played hide and seek, tumbang preso, bahaybahayan, and, luksong baka. But sometimes my mother gets mad at me because I don't like to sleep in the afternoon, so what I do is sleep with my mother always after lunch, and if she gets asleep, me and my brother go to my cousin's house and play the bahay bahayan game. Sometimes my mother beats me because I come home so late, like 5 p.m., and don't even cook or wash the dishes. That's how my mother gets angry at me, and then I go to my father to stop her from being angry. Also, I'm Daddy's girl, and me and my father always played, and he always told me a story. Sometimes I fell asleep. My father always taught me how to read and how to do math. If I got a perfect score, he gave me money to buy candy. I'm so happy if I get a perfect score in class because my father buys candy. If I got sick, he cooked me my favorite food, chicken. A few years later, I was 10 years old. I'm getting older. My brother and I always help my mother because she sells kakanin and bread, etc., every Saturday and Sunday, and I go to my neighbors to sell them, but my neighbor is in debt, but it's okay because they are my sukii.

Then, when I was in grade 5, I moved to school here in Cebu, Lapu-Lapu City. My older sister told my parents that they would send me to study in Cebu, and my parents agreed with my sister. Few months later, I had new friends in my new school. When I was in high school, I was 14 years old. At that time, I was always jealous of my classmates because they had parents to bring to school every meeting. I always told my friend that she was lucky to have his parents take care of himself because, at a young age, no parents took care of me, only my older sister. But as I grew up, I realized why my mother and father agreed to let my sister study in Cebu because the high school in my province is far away from home and also because we are so poor.

I study hard to achieve my goals in life, but sometimes I feel so sad because I miss my parents. But it's okay because my family always supports me through my journey as a student; they are my strength in life. I know that at my age, I have a boyfriend who motivates me and encourages me to pursue my goals in life. He's always by my side when I'm not okay or sad. I'm thankful that I have a boyfriend who always cares for me. We live in a world that is constantly changing, and to succeed, we need a smart plan and the ability to adapt and adjust to the changing world environment, but more importantly, we need to prepare ourselves to succeed. We need discipline and, above all, an unshakable will to resist difficulties when they happen.I feel really satisfied with what I have managed to achieve in my life so far. For myself, my family, and my friends, I only want the best. I often go above and beyond to support people in my immediate vicinity in achieving success and becoming the best versions of themselves. would probably be one of the best ways to describe my life, and I learned that we are the architects of our lives, the artists of our own destiny through work, commitments, and determination.

#life

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aewd2812 · 2 years

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Day 3: Countryside

Hello! How are you? We are resuming the AU-gust writing challenge with today's post. This time, you will get to read about another character of mine. I hope you will like him as much as I do.

Masterlist

If you were to ask him, “Do you like this job?”, Matthew would never say no. Working as a spy agent brought him a kind of pleasure he could never have in normal life. As an agent, he was allowed to wear weapons, use them to protect the whole world, riding vehicles that would usually never be allowed to the common folks. Most of all, he was able to meet amazing teammates with whom he could share his workload, his everyday life, and surprisingly, even fall in love. Him, Matthew, no last name, who believed more than anything to be the most rational person in the world, fell in love, hard. It was funny and pitiful. Trying so hard to be the best every single day, to prove himself and to prove it to her, at some point, it gets tiring. It was the reason why he accepted to take a day off.

He would never admit it, but everyone in the headquarters has been worried. With black circles just beneath his eyes, a smile becoming more and more forced, and multiple injuries decorating his body, it was time to have a break. And maybe it was the worried eyes thrown at him, the guilt of knowing too much but not being able to share, or simply feeling down, he chose to go back to his root; to the countryside, where he once used to live peacefully, like the cheeky and innocent boy he once was.

Matthew was a man who never met his parents. They died shortly after he was born, and no memories of them could be remembered nor found. His grandparents were quite old as well and left him alone soon enough. But before they died, he had lived a happy childhood in this house.

The house was nothing special. It was just as big as one could expect from the countryside. A mix between a barn and a simple house. Where it once was full of cows, pigs, and chickens, it was now an empty abandoned spot.

The silence reigning in the place was deafening. Almost intimidating. The small water fountain near the door leading to the house was covered in moss. If one were to try lifting it and releasing it, the fountain would surely creak loudly, all kinds of unknown insects would crawl out of the moss, and bits of soil were bound to fall from it. After multiple tries, maybe then, there would be enough water for a few mouthfuls. The water coming out of it would probably still be full of dirt, though.

Walking down the walking road, full of pebbles, one would hear their own footsteps, no matter how light they are trying to make their steps be. While frustrating to hear their footsteps, it would still be comforting, as if they were accompanied, whether by a friend or a lover.

Matthew remembered taking the same road every morning just after breakfast, walking past these same fences – which were sturdier and taller back then, and after those same 4503 steps on the pebbles, he would be there, around the edge of the forest. Close enough, so his grandparents wouldn’t worry, and far enough for him to be a little freer, a little more creative. Sometimes, he would hide in the bush and wait, wait until they come searching for him. In a way, it was how he knew he was loved.

Sometimes, he would climb a tree, slowly to the top, then stop there. If he were to come early enough, he would be able to watch the sunrise. Then, after coming down, jumping once he was low enough not to be hurt, he would search around in the same bushes he used to hide in and pick the most succulent and beautiful wild blackberries. He would eat all the not-so-beautiful and the not-so-perfect ones, and gift the rest to his precious people who kept taking care of him even though he was not nearly as perfect as he wished he was.

If the weather were to get particularly hot, he remembered going out with his grandparents and sitting eagerly in the back seat, waiting for the car to stop. He knew it. As soon as they would arrive, he would jump out of the car, running to their usual spot near the river. They would seat under the shade of a tree on a picnic blanket with a basket full of season products. After eating, he and his grandmother would remove their shoes and let their feet cool down in the river. Sometimes, his grandfather would join in and splash him with some water, beginning a full water fight. Sometimes, his grandfather would stay quietly on his side, looking afar with an indescribable emotion in his eyes. He would throw a line in the water and wait. Whether it was for a fish to bite, or for something else, it was already too late for Matthew to know.

Now, on such a day, Matthew was no more of the little boy he used to be. While pulling out the smoke from his mouth, he thought it would be nice to come back once in a while with all of the crew. They would make new memories that would fulfil this place once again. Maybe he would get to confess with all the honesty and courage he could gather. But for now, it was nice to simply relax in such a place. Tomorrow, the headquarter is going to be noisy once again, most probably questioning the origin of a familiar basket of fresh blackberries.

#au gust 2022 #au_gust_2022 #writing challenge #writing #k-board #short prompt #au #au_gust #countryside

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mtnkat3 · 2 years

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Oh my Love/s.

Now that wh has...gone to his hole.

I can talk to You/Alll... sigh. so sick of ...it!

Cannot wait to open my eyes to Your/Alll's precious faces every morning!!! And listen...

As I grin & roll my eyes at that persons obvious obtuseness.

Your response DPOne... eloquence. Like a eagle taking flight.

Such as that... just an example of what people seem to do too abundantly now. Attack what they don't understand nor agree with. And don't bother to learn more. I looked at that picture & knew it was a woman in 2 seconds. Not just the hair but also bone structure.

Her prowess as a huntress is to be commended!

Too many people doing such these days makes me shake my head sadly. Pray for a world too full of urbanites who have no knowledge but don't let that stop them.

Sigh. Me. I was born & raised in a converted barn. My yard was a cow pasture. My grandmas' both killed chickens. One I know used to hang em up on the clothesline to drain all day. And killed snakes in the yard with a hatchet. She was also a seamstress during a world that was difficult. And my grandpa a machinist during wwII. Milk came from the dairy just around the bend. I am humbly privileged to have known them all. And to have one of her three Singer flywheel +100yo sewing machines.

What people call homesteading today... I just call it living. It's true, pure, & wholesome. Eat & store up what the Lord provides & pray for a good harvest. There wasn't a question of food being an "genetically modified organism" when it was made by God's Hands.

Just... my thoughts. Blushing shyly bowing my head.

I love & adore You/Alll endlessly.

~Your's/s'.

DPOne, DOne, & Alll.

10.59am

[wh on warpath today. Bowed. ~t.]

0 notes

searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

She Dreams in Color: 2/6

Sorry about the delay in posting. I won't bore you with the details, but life happened. To make it up to you, however, I will be posting chapter three TOMORROW! Just this once you get a double dose for your weekend.

Thanks once more to @shireness-says for organizing the @cshistfic event and to my beta @aerica13. Also thanks to everyone in the discord chats for the sprinting and the brainstorming. I would also be remiss if I didn't thank everyone who expressed their love for chapter one of this fic. It was little more than an intro, yet I was overwhelmed by the response. We get more into the meat of the story with this chapter, and especially the next. So let's do this . . .

Summary: Emma’s life is drab and colorless, and not just because of the Dust Bowl that has stripped the land bare. Married to a man she does not love and never has, Emma lives for Tuesdays. That’s when the iceman brings cool relief from the unrelenting heat and fire to her unsatisfied longings. Perhaps they won’t go unsatisfied for long …

*Yes, this fic depicts infidelity. I am in no way making light of people who cheat on their spouses - it’s just a story, ya’ll.*

Rating: M

Length: 6 chapters, complete

Updated each Thursday (or Saturday, or Sunday . . . lol)

Chapter One

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling

Chapter Two: Back When She was Bold and Strong

Emma cursed her husband, not for the first time, running a weary hand across her damp brow. The heat was unrelenting, yet the cow still had to be milked. The poor girl was as thin and gray as the rest of the farm, and it was the only animal left in the barn. Their last chicken had been Christmas dinner, and they’d slaughtered the pig at Easter.

Though it was falling to shambles around them, Neal wouldn’t give up the farm. It had been in the family for generations, and Neal was more afraid of his father’s wrath than of The Depression.

Emma finished milking Buttercup and rose to her feet, giving the poor thing a pat on her bony haunches. Emma struggled with the milk bucket as she exited the barn, her arms trembling. Despite her fatigue, however, she couldn’t afford to lose a single drop of the precious milk.

As she stepped into the sunlight, she squinted against the haze. In the distance, she saw a telltale billow of dust. For a brief moment, relief filled her. Then she remembered it was Tuesday.

How had she forgotten? She sighed as she looked down at her faded house dress. Oh well, after last week, she no longer cared if he saw her as she truly was. No more primping for him; not if he saw it as desperation.

Emma tipped up her chin as he pulled into the yard, continuing her trek to the house with the milk bucket.

“Morning, Swan,” he called out as he exited the truck.

Emma ignored him, keeping her gaze on the back porch. Only a few more steps, and she could escape his presence and the humiliation it brought. Killian was having none of it, however. Instead of opening the back of the truck to retrieve the ice, he followed after her.

“Emma,” he said softly, gently resting a hand upon her shoulder, “I must apologize for the brazen way I acted last week.”

Emma stopped, surprised he had been so forthright. She looked him straight in those unfairly blue eyes, forcing a cool indifference into her own.

“Emma? I thought it was Swan? Remember? A trapped swan?”

He dropped his head with a sigh. “I should never have said that. I don’t know what came over me.” He lifted his gaze to hers again, searching. “I simply . . . wish for your every happiness, Swan. Truly, that’s all I want for you.”

“Why do you care what I -”

Suddenly, Emma’s vision swam before her and she swayed. Killian’s arms immediately went around, yet the only thing she could worry about was dropping the milk. She needn’t have, however. Killian took it swiftly from her grip, not spilling a drop. She was unable to do anything but sag against his strong chest.

“Swan!” Killian cried in alarm.

“I’m . . . I’m,” she was trying to tell him she was okay, but she couldn’t retrieve the words. He set the milk bucket down and scooped her up into his arms. The movement made dots swim before her eyes, but she managed not to pass out. He set her gently on a chair at the kitchen table, then kneeled down so he was in her line of sight.

“Are you alright, love?”

Emma lifted a shaking hand to her temple. “I’m sure it’s just the heat,” she lied.

“Let’s get you something to drink then,” he told her, pivoting towards the ice chest.

She lifted a hand and opened her mouth to stop him, but before a sound could come out, he’d already pulled the door open. When he saw what was inside, he turned back to Emma in shock.

“Swan, there’s nothing in here but a pitcher of water!”

“Why do you think I was milking the cow?” She tried to give her voice an air of humor, but it fell flat.

“How long have you been living on nothing but milk?”

“Only four days.”

“Four days!” His jaw ticked in frustration as he strode back to where she sat. This time, he pulled out a chair and straddled it. “What’s going on, darling?”

Tears sprang to Emma’s eyes. “Neal - my husband - he’s always leaving to find work. He’s never been gone more than five days, though, and we usually have more in the pantry. He knew I needed to get to town for provisions soon, so I thought he’d only be gone a day or two.”

“But that’s not been the case?”

Emma shook her head. “Today is day seven. We have only the one truck, and we had to sell the horse ages ago.”

“You’ve been stuck out here for a week with food running out and no way to get more!”

Emma felt the room spin again. “Can you yell at me after you get me a glass of water?”

Chagrined, Killian poured her some from the cool pitcher. “Apologies, love, I shouldn’t be yelling at you anyway. Your husband on the other hand . . .”

The look in his eyes made that same heat pool in her middle; the heat Neal had never mustered. She pressed the cool glass to her forehead, willing herself not to swoon in his presence. He rose again before she could say or do anything stupid. He went back outside and returned with the milk bucket and a paper lunch sack. He set the milk inside the ice chest, then set the paper bag on the table in front of Emma.

“Eat that, right now,” he ordered, “but slowly.”

Emma eyed him as she opened the sack. Normally, her hackles were raised when a man ordered her about, yet there was an edge of worry and care in his tone that cooled her temper. She removed a thick roast beef sandwich wrapped in wax paper, then looked up at Killian in surprise.

“Is this your lunch?”

He shook his head. “It’s food. Eat it.”

“I can’t take your lunch!”

“I never said it was my lunch.”

“But it is, isn’t it?”

“Who cares where I got it, stubborn woman! You were nothing but skin and bones when I carried you in here. Now eat before I toss you over my shoulder and take you home with me where my sister in law will pin you down and force you to eat!”

He stomped back outside before she could reply, and Emma’s lips curled into a smile. She’d rather like to be tossed over his shoulder, actually, but she decided to obey his orders instead. As soon as she took the first small bite of the sandwich, she wanted to devour it, but she knew Killian was right about eating slowly. She didn’t want the food to come right back up again.

Also in the sack was a hard boiled egg and two molasses cookies. Emma nearly wept at how good it all tasted. She paced herself by laying it all out on the unfolded waxed paper and making herself alternate bites of each.

When Killian came back in hauling the ice with his hooks, he grinned broadly to see her eating, relief also shining in his eyes. She admired the view Killian gave her as he hoisted the ice into the chest, just as she always did. It was hard to believe that it was only a week ago that he had so audaciously flirted with her.

“I’m afraid your tip will have to be a penny this week,” Emma told him as she brushed cookie crumbs from her lap. She had never eaten a better meal in her life, she was sure.

Killian waved both arms in the air. “No, Swan, no charge this week.”

“No really,” Emma assured him, getting up and retrieving the coffee can from the top shelf, “it’s not that I don’t have money. I just don’t have a way to town.”

She thrust the dime, nickel, and penny at him, but he refused to take it, his brow furrowing in concern. Emma let out a huff of frustration, grabbed one of his gloved hands, and pressed the money into it.

“I’m hungry because of lack of transportation,” she clarified further, “and if you haven’t noticed, nothing is able to grow in all this dust. Calling this a farm is honestly ridiculous at this point.”

If there was one thing the depression had done, it was give people an ability to laugh at dark jokes. Killian’s mouth tipped up, and he gave a slight chuckle at her melancholy quip. She returned his laugh, forcing his fingers to curl around the change.

“I don’t know what I would do without Tuesdays,” she told him softly. His eyes widened at her honesty. She searched his face for a moment before making another confession. “I owe you an apology, too. I’ve flirted with you every week because life is dull here, and I’m lonely. But it’s not your job to brighten my day, is it? You just bring the ice.”

He cupped his other gloved hand around hers, then brought it up to his lips. The feel of them brushing against her knuckles sent a shiver down her spine.

“You brighten my Tuesdays as well, Swan, and I am happy to brighten your days, if I can.”

“You do,” she managed to say over the lump in her throat.

“Can I come back tonight?” His eyes widened as hers did, and red crept into his cheeks. “Not like that,” he amended hurriedly. “It’s just you’ve been cooped up here for seven days, and I thought you might like to get out. After my last delivery, I can take you for a drive.”

A smile filled Emma’s face as joy surged in her chest. “I’d like that.”

He returned her smile, his dimples softening his face and giving it a boyish charm. “It’s a date, then.”

His use of the word, sent alarm coursing through Emma. “Just check for my husband’s truck before you stop in the yard?”

He nodded, understanding in his gaze, and she let out a small sigh of relief. He released her hands, then stepped forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek.

“Until tonight, Swan.”

Once again, the iceman had her knees buckling beneath her as he walked out her kitchen door.

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

“Where do you want to go?”

Killian grinned at her from the driver’s seat, his arm resting lightly on the open window. It was such a broad smile, it filled his face, cutting into his cheeks and crinkling the skin around his eyes. It made Emma’s heart pound like a schoolgirl’s, and all she could manage was a shrug.

“Well, within reason,” he amended with a chuckle. “I wish I could tell you we’d run away together and I would show you -”

He cut off his words suddenly, ducking his head and scratching nervously behind his ear. Emma looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. She was wearing her yellow organza and she had washed her hair beneath the water pump by the back porch. She’d brushed it as it dried until it shone, then fastened it behind her right ear with the faux emerald hair clip her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Even though it was paste, she could probably pawn it, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was her last tie to her parents.

The care she’d taken in her appearance suddenly made her self conscious. He had breathed out in awe how beautiful she was when she answered the door, and her heart had soared. Now she wondered yet again if he found her desperate.

“What I meant to say,” he amended, clearing his throat, “is that I’d like to fulfill your every dream, take you anywhere you wished to go. Alas -”

She cut him off. “No one’s dreams are coming true right now.”

“Aye,” he nodded sagely, “that’s so. But where do you want to go?”

“Just drive.”

“As you wish.”

Though the dust billowed up from the dry country road, Killian pushed the truck to go as fast as it was capable. Emma tilted her head back, a genuine grin filling her face as the sultry night air caressed her skin. The stars twinkled above, and a full moon illuminated the flat prairie. They didn’t speak as the truck bounced over the rutted ground, simply reveling in the feeling of freedom.

Killian turned off the road and across prairie land that was once lush and green. He finally came to a stop in front of a large tree that stood brave and alone amidst the flat landscape. An indentation of cracked earth nearby must have once been a small pond. The gnarled, bare branches spread like a canopy and reached up into the night sky.

“It was so beautiful once,” Killian told her, “when it was bedecked in green leaves.”

“I’ve never been here before,” she told him as he helped her out of the truck.

“You didn’t grow up here in Misthaven?”

“No,” Emma told him as he spread a faded quilt upon the ground at the base of the tree, “I was born and raised fifteen miles from here in Storybrooke.”

He nodded as he helped her sit. “So you moved here when you wed?”

“Yes. Neal’s farm has been in the family since the territory was first settled.”

Killian began taking items out of a picnic basket: slices of cold roast beef, a loaf of fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, and an entire pound cake. Emma’s mouth began to water. She nearly wept at Killian’s gesture. Obviously, he was still concerned about her going hungry.

“I apologize that there are no fruits or vegetables,” he told her, “but you know how hard those are to come by these days.”

“Vegetables? Fruit?” she laughed. “What are these strange foods you speak of?”

Killian chuckled as well and spoke as he loaded a plate for Emma. “My sister-in-law’s sister is pregnant, and she heard two weeks ago that a farmer was in town selling watermelons. She sent her husband faster than you can say dust bowl.”

“Did he get one?” Emma’s eyes widened. To have a watermelon again!

“Yes, though we had no money for the milkman that week.” Killian shook his head humorously at the memory. “None of us minded, though.”

“It was good?”

“It was the tiniest, most pathetic watermelon you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leaned closer and winked at her. “It was delicious.”

They spent a few moments in silence, polishing off the roast beef, enjoying the bread that was still a bit warm in the middle, and moaning in delight at slices of the tangy cheese. At least, Emma moaned. She hadn’t eaten so well in a very long time.

“So you all live together?” Emma inquired. “You, your brother and his wife, and her sister and her husband?”

Killian nodded. “My brother Liam and I started the business with Kristoff after we left the Navy. Liam and I handle the business end and the deliveries in the summer. Kristoff heads up to Canada every winter to harvest the ice and transport it. It saves him and Anna a lot of money to live with us in the summer months. Actually, Anna won’t be going with him up to Canada this coming season.”

“Because of the baby?”

Killian nodded. “Plus, with things getting worse everywhere, it will be a lot easier for Kristoff to find a room just for him. Anna and Elsa are extremely close, too, so I think Anna prefers to be here.”

“I wish I had siblings,” Emma said wistfully.

Killian tilted his head and studied her for a moment. “You know, I think Elsa and Anna would adore you. Is it okay if they come by tomorrow and take you with them to town? Elsa said she needs to do some shopping anyway, and she thought you might like to come along.”

Emma felt pink tint her cheeks. She knew things were tough for everyone, but it still hurt her pride to receive the pity of Killian and his family.

“I hope I didn’t overstep.” He reached out and took her hand gently. “I didn’t mean to tell them about you, but Elsa didn’t buy it when I said I lost my lunch.”

Emma was further embarrassed when a snort went through her nose. She tentatively gazed up at him.

“You told her you lost it? Like a school boy?”

Killian laughed, once again scratching behind that ear. “Aye, it was all I could come up with. I stopped by the house to get more food between deliveries, and she demanded to know why I was raiding the ice chest.”

This sister-in-law sounded like her kind of person, so Emma shrugged and told him it was fine with her if the two women stopped by. Plus, if she were brutally honest, she was desperate for some friends in this town.

“What about your family?” Killian asked as he sliced some thick wedges of pound cake for each of them. “You said you have no siblings. What about your parents?”

A soft smile graced Emma’s face thinking of her mother and father, and her hand went fondly to her hair clip. In her mind’s eye, she could see the old yellow farmhouse, their dog Wilby bounding in the yard, and her horse Snow White in the barn.

“David and Mary Margaret Nolan are their names,” she told him. “They were farmers themselves, and they gave me the most idyllic childhood.”

Her hand dropped into her lap and she began to twist the delicate fabric in her fingers.

“Let me guess,” Killian put in, “everything changed after the crash?”

Emma nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. “They tried to save it. We sold all we could: family antiques, farm equipment, even my horse. It wasn’t enough. The bank took the farm, my childhood.”

“I’m so sorry, Swan.”

“My father found a job with a logging company up in Canada, and we were all planning on going together. That’s what our family does, my father said. But one night, I overheard them talking. The company allowed spouses in worker housing, but no one else. No kids, not even teenaged ones like me. My parents wouldn’t hear of leaving me behind, however, so father was going to turn the job down. I knew he couldn’t afford to do that. We were broke.”

Killian frowned and moved closer to her side. He put a comforting arm around her, and she leaned into him. It was easier to tell the story if she couldn’t see his face.

“Neal Gold came to town often on business for his father. He was wealthy, at least at the time, and set to inherit the farm. He had pursued me for quite some time, telling me how I would be taken care of if I married him.”

Emma fell silent for several moments. Finally, Killian spoke gently against the crown of her head.

“So that’s why you married him.”

Emma nodded. “My parents had taken care of me my entire life. Now I had a chance to take care of them. I let them believe I had fallen in love, but it was really a marriage of convenience.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen. My mother was the same age when she married, though my father was only nineteen. Neal was twenty-four when we wed.”

It wasn’t an unheard of age difference, Emma knew that. Still, she had thought him incredibly old and shivered with barely concealed disgust every time he made advances towards her. When she sought him out to accept his proposal, he had to have known her feelings hadn’t changed. She would quickly learn, however, that her feelings didn’t matter to him.

“Ironically,” Emma continued, “Neal’s father, Robert Gold, was already in financial ruin when we wed. He married a much younger woman for her wealth, but there was no money left for Neal. He still got the farm, but that hardly mattered once the dust storms came.”

“What about your parents?”

“They’re thriving in Canada. We write letters.”

“They have no idea how unhappy you are, do they?”

Emma twisted around to look into Killian’s face. “How could I do that to them? If they knew, they might come back, and what good would that do? So we could all starve together?”

Killian said nothing, his gaze intense. He lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear. She swallowed hard, suddenly realizing how close they were and the way his arms encircled her.

“They wouldn’t want you to be so unhappy.”

His voice was thick and his fingers danced along her jaw. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and suddenly she knew that if she allowed this to continue, she would let him take her right here on this blanket. What kind of woman did that make her? She set her palm against his chest, and her wedding ring caught the light of the moon. An adulteress, that’s what she would be. A loose, immoral woman. What would her mother think of her? With every bit of will power she possessed, Emma shoved Killian away from her and scrambled to her feet.

“I’m married, Killian,” she told him thickly. “I know I’ve given you mixed signals, and I am so, so sorry for that, but I just . . . I can’t . . .”

“Can’t what?” he asked, rising to his feet as well. “Do something for yourself for once? Think of your own happiness for once?”

Emma shook her head as the tears welling behind her eyes spilled over. She yanked the paste emerald from her hair and held it so tightly in her fist it cut into her skin.

“Take me home,” she whispered hoarsely.

He rose and nodded to her like the most impeccable gentleman. “As you wish, Swan.”

#cshistfic #cs hist fic #cs hist fic 2021 #cs historical au #cs depression era au

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sylvanfreckles · 2 years

Text

Laughter (Comfortember 2021)

By Love Overcome

After the terrible ritual that made him human, Castiel is trying to adjust to life in the bunker. Thankfully, he has his friends and family to help along the way.

(This is a direct sequel to By Grace Undone from Whumptober 2021. You can click here to read that one, or here to read the rest of By Love Overcome)

Chapter Fourteen: Cas has had precious little to laugh about since he returned to the Winchesters. Dean's looking to change that.

Warning: Dad jokes ahead

Whistling, Dean made his way to the TV room (all right, so Sam was refusing to call it the Dean Cave, and Cas and Eileen were on his side...he got no respect in this family) to check in on Cas, who was having some kind of nerdy chick flick day with Sam. He poked his head in the door to see the other two cozied up on the couch covered with a pile of fleece blankets. On the screen, Julie Andrews was accepting a stack of dark-colored fabric and talking about making playclothes for the Von Trapp children.

“Sammy,” Dean began, but his brother shot up a hand to interrupt him.

“Shut up, it's a classic.”

Dean sighed. “Right.” Cas had his knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on them, eyes fixed on the screen. And, well, a story of an outsider rebelling against the strict order of a household and improving their lives...yeah, he could see how Cas could get into this kind of story.

But he couldn't just walk away.

“You know, they keep remaking all these old movies,” Dean commented, sitting on the edge of the couch nearest Cas.

“Yeah, they made one with Carrie Underwood,” Sam interrupted. “Not as good as the original.”

They did? Well, not like he kept up with musical theater. Much. “No, no they're doing some animated version of this. All the characters are gonna be cows.”

Sam heaved out a heavy sigh, but Cas blinked up at him in confusion. “Cows?”

Dean winked. “Yeah, you know. Sound of Moo-sic.”

At that, his brother let out heavy groan and threw a pillow at Dean, who neatly dodged it while laughing.

Then there was another, unexpected sound.

Cas snorted.

It wasn't a full-blown laugh, but after months of sickness and weakness there'd been precious little to make the ex-angel smile. Yet here he was, cracking up over Dean's lame pun.

Sam was horrified. “No. Cas, you can't laugh. He'll never stop.”

“Too late, bitch,” Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at Sam. “Oh, it is on now!”

…

He waited. He gave them the rest of the day for their little musical marathon and let them both settle in at the table for dinner (they were eating at one of the library tables, where the chairs were more supportive and comfortable for Cas).

“So, I talked to Jody,” Dean began.

“Yeah? Are the girls enjoying the time with Eileen?”

“Oh, yeah, they're fine,” he replied. He continued quickly before Sam could ask any more questions, staring down at his plate while he talked. “She's just having some problems with her yard and wanted to ask me for help.”

“With her yard.”

He didn't need to look up to know Sam was giving him the look. He could practically feel all the gears turning in that ridiculous floppy-haired head. Dean darted a glance up at his brother, then pretended to be focused on the chicken and dumplings he'd made for dinner.

“What help does Jody need with her yard, and why would she call you?”

“Oh, that...turns out it's in love.”

Sam's fork dropped to the table with a clatter. Dean looked up to see Cas staring at him curiously, while Sam was mopping up some spilled sauce. “Yeah, it's in love with her next-door neighbor's yard. I told her not to worry about it. These things have a tendency to work themselves out.”

“What the hell?” Sam had abandoned his plate to stare at Dean. “Her yard is in love...with the yard next door?”

“Well, yeah, but it's nothing to worry about.” He shot another look at Cas and couldn't quite keep the grin off his face. “I mean it probably won't last, it's a lawn-distance relationship.”

Sam's inarticulate grumble of frustration couldn't quite drown out Cas's soft chuckle. Dean's grin widened, and he toasted his friend with a forkful of dumpling.

…

“...so I was thinking we could plan a trip to the arboretum, when the weather gets warmer,” Sam was saying. He'd been trying to help Cas plan some things to look forward to for when he was feeling better. They had a list of zoos about a mile long (OtterCam had been such a big hit that Cas now had a tablet with easy links to whatever nature camera he wanted to watch), and Dean had been seeing a disturbing amount of museum pamphlets in their mail these days.

“To see trees?” Cas leaned forward to look at Sam's laptop. He was tucked up in bed over a bad flare-up earlier in the day, and the brothers were in his room to keep him company. Sam was bringing up all the things they could do when Cas was feeling better (and he would get better, he just had to give himself more time), while Dean was mostly making smart-ass comments and trying to get a rare smile (or rarer laugh) out of Cas.

“They have trees from all over the world,” Sam explained. “See, this one's more like a botanical garden. There are all kinds of plants, not just trees.”

“I don't trust trees,” Dean announced. Sam shared a bewildered look with Cas, then stared at Dean.

“You don't trust trees.”

“Nope.” Dean shook his head. He leaned back in the chair casually, crossing one leg over the other. “They're too shady.”

Sam let out another long groan, and Cas gave Dean a tired smile (which was as good as a laugh, in his exhausted state).

“Dean, you have to stop! This is getting out of hand!”

…

He wasn't anywhere near done. Dean had enough bad jokes to ruin every conversation Sam and Cas had, and he was getting closer and closer to getting a genuine laugh out of Cas. A few days into his plan and Sam was practically throwing him out of the room any time he opened his mouth, but Cas was obviously enjoying it. That was really all that counted.

They usually ate dinner in Cas's room or the TV room, except the odd day when he felt strong enough to want to eat at the table. Tonight they were in the TV room having something simple—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

Cas only had half a sandwich and a mug of soup, which was still probably more than he'd be able to eat in one sitting. He stared down at the sandwich on his plate for a while, before slowly lifting his head to stare at Dean.

“What? Something wrong?” Dean leaned forward, abandoning his own plate on the couch beside him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but held the plate up for Dean to see. “What did one plate say to the other?”

Dean blinked. “Huh?”

“Dinner's on me.” With that, Cas picked the sandwich up and took a bite out of it. Dean stared at him for a second, then threw his head back with a hearty laugh. Sam was protesting, complaining that Dean had ruined Cas's sense of humor forever now. Dean didn't care.

As far as he was concerned, that was the funniest damn joke he'd ever heard.

(Told you I'd come back to this!)

#comfortember 2021 #supernatural #human castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fanfic #hurt/comfort #the flare 'verse #by love overcome #dad jokes #triumphant return from hiatus #fluff

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw that you reblogged the "I wish you would write a fic where..." post, and I have two ideas for the Running From My Destiny verse that might make neat scenes. The first I can't really make a summary for since it's such a general idea, but I'd really like to see a Quirrellmort POV. For the second one:

Malfada Prewett meets the Weasleys. This... does not go as well as her parents thought it would, even if they didn't have particularly high hopes.

Malfada absolutely does not get along with her cousins; she loves them anyways, though.

I hope the prompt(s) is(are?) fun! It's cool that you're doing this; it seems like it'd be an interesting experience. Have a nice night! :)

Thanks so much for the prompts! They were both very cool ideas! Hope you have a nice morning/afternoon/night as well!

ᑫᑌIᖇᖇEᒪᒪᗰOᖇT/TᑌᖇᑎIᑎG TO ᗩᔕᕼEᔕ

(spark)

Quirinus Quirrell surveyed his classroom, then glanced down at his attendance sheet, running a shaking finger down his list of names.

“P-Parkinson, P-Pansy?”

“Here, Professor.”

“P-Patil, P-P-Parvati?”

He’d always been ashamed of his stutter. There wasn’t a time he remembered not feeling afraid of his own voice. He expected peers, now students, to laugh at him and make him feel smaller and smaller, until he was annhilated.

“Here, sir.”

He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and focused on the next name.

His heartbeat stuttered in his ears. Something seemed to click. To focus. And when he spoke, his voice was as composed and steady as he’d always dreamed.

“Potter, Harry.”

“Present, sir.”

He could not help but look up at the speaker. But it wasn’t as if he was one looking. Rather, someone or something else had nudged their way to the front of his brain, gazing at the small first-year in the second row, scrawny, bespectacled and overall unremarkable, except for the round-rimmed glasses and bright green eyes that seemed to stir some distant memory, as if he had seen them both on another person.

Dead. And yet he felt more alive than ever.

He shuddered, and moved on, taking note of the remaining few Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

(ember)

It had been mere days since Quirinus had returned to the school; mere weeks since Voldemort’s disembodied spirit promised him everything he’d ever dreamed of.

No longer would he be the bullied, cowed Professor of Muggle Studies.

No longer would he be an afterthought.

There is no good and evil, only power, he reminded himself. Whether he vanquished Voldemort or brought him back to life, he would be great. And that was all that mattered.

And so, he had found himself standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, performing spells that he did not understand (but the other, strange new part of him did) and renewing the runes drawn around an ancient bloodstain.

But now, he was sitting in his office. And that green-eyed, unremarkable boy was sitting across from him (though the part of him that was Voldemort whispered, Quirinus, he is the one).

“Do you think I should be worried at all about the shadows?"

Harry Potter’s voice seemed to be coming through several miles of water. For his part, Quirinus felt frozen, and yet, more clever and powerful and strong than he ever had. His limbs had new life, every square centimetre of his being thrummed with magic, and he felt a strange, vast understanding of everything around him; even the boy’s mind.

"You were right to come to me, Harry Potter.” And there came the new, clear voice again, but it faded quickly. “If you are at all interested in learning to... control... to develop... your power, I may just be able to point you in the right d-d-direction."

(flame)

Halfway through the Quidditch match, something strange had come over Quirinus. That same terrible focus and perhaps not-so-mysterious power.

And every nerve in his body sang with the same fierce joy: Kill him, kill him, kill him! They’ll never trace it to you! Dumbledore is not here to see! KILL HIM!

Quirinus had not taken even a single year of Ancient Runes while he was at Hogwarts, and his affinity for the Dark Arts had always been weak. But now, he sat quite calmly in the professors’ box, muttering an Ogham chant and tainting the air with foul magic.

He saw what the others could not; Harry Potter was being consumed by his own shadows. The boy reached for his broom, hanging on with the last of his material form. His eyes were glassy and empty, and everything in Quirinus sung with the triumphant knowledge that his strange enemy was close to death. The Reaper was coming.

The two Weasley boys circled around him, trying to save him (foolish children, none can save him from Lord Death himself!).

It was the girl that snapped him out of his focus; she threw herself into the box like a wildcat let loose and despite the protests of the professors around him.

But it mattered not. Her precious brother was fast losing his grip, and soon the great Boy-Who-Lived would be nothing but a stain on the grass below; a tragic accident—

“INCENDIO!I”

The box crackled with flame, and the thing inside Quirinus howled in anger; yes, she should not know that, but fire would save the boy, sap the shadows.

Even as Snape shouted at her, it was her victory, not his, because Harry Potter had pulled himself back on the broom to safety.

How hard is it to kill an eleven-year-old child already cursed by a parasitic monster? You are just as much of a failure as they say you are!

And yet, thought Quirinus, he did not know if it was the thing, or himself howling in fury at his inability to kill the boy.

(ashes)

He did not like her. He did not like either of the Potter children at all.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter sometimes, when he delved into his mind and forced the Obscurus to manifest, savoured his terror and the fear-filled memories of his Muggle relatives. When he entertained the idea of using him as a weapon against Dumbledore, now that he had shielded the boy from Legilimency from anyone but him and instilled within him a fear of his Headmaster.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter when the Dark magic had burned out, and he lay helpless on the floor of Quirrell’s office.

Quirinus found that he liked to toy with the child; make him feel as helpless and utterly annihilated as he once had felt.

After all, he would one day kill Harry Potter. He would make the life bleed out of those green eyes and watch them go still and glassy (like his mother’s, he remembered now), someday soon.

Even as he Obliviated the second child who dared to intercept his search for the Stone, Quirinus knew the end was dawning.

With shaking hands, he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled death. The weak, prim Quirinus who would have balked at the very idea of polluting his body with such a thing was no longer important to him. After all, what was nicotine and tar and his disgust at the idea of a smoking habit when the spirit of the Dark Lord lived within him?

No. He had been chosen for greater things.

Tonight was the night the end begun.

Quirinus signed the bottom of his letter of resignation, put out the cigarette, and placed in it his brand-new ashtray.

And yet, he cried.

“I have given you my all, My Lord,” he said, and his voice, his own voice was steady. “And now I am nothing.”

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚊 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝/𝚃𝚘 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝚄𝚙 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕

August, 1986

“Just give it a chance, will you?” asked her dad, taking her luggage out the boot. “You won’t know you hate it until you try it.”

Everyone seemed to be giving her the same stupid advice today. When they stopped to get petrol during the drive from London, some weirdo in the petrol station had told her “Cheer up love, it might not happen!” She had responded by sticking her tongue out at them.

Mafalda frowned, crossed her arms, and leaned against the car.

“I don’t see why I can’t go to Roedean.”

“Well, you’re a witch, Mafalda.” He wiped his forehead and frowned. “Bloody hot, isn’t it?”

Witch. She hated the word already. Yeah, some of the girls at school were into Ouija boards and palm-reading and whatnot, but Mafalda didn’t go in for all of that nonsense.

The kind of nonsense that got Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon killed.

“And what do they call you and Mum again?”

Her dad sighed. “Squibs.”

“Yes, Dad! It’s not very nice, is it?”

She glared at the house as if it had personally offended her. It was tall, maybe four or five stories and so crooked that there was no way it hadn’t fallen down by now. A couple of brown chickens hobbled around the yard.

And in here lived the people who had sent her father off to Muggle boarding school, as far away from them as they could possibly manage, as soon as they could.

As her dad strode towards the door, Mafalda followed, kicking a rusty cauldron as she went by.

Before Mafalda could make her great escape, her dad knocked on the door and a plump, short, red-headed someone opened it almost immediately.

“Alfred?” she asked in a squeaky, shocked voice. Then, she glanced furtively behind her as if to check that no one was listening. “Alfred, what are you doing here?”

Her dad frowned, fanned himself with the collar of his shirt, and beckoned her closer so that the rude woman could look her up and down.

“Come on, Mals,” he whispered. “In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

Yeah, her hair probably looked a mess and the dress Mum had forced her to wear was all creased, but Mafalda didn’t think she would look particularly nice if she’d just spent three and a half hours in a stinky, sweaty car.

“Well,” said her dad, “this is your niece, Molly, and she’s a witch just like you. Got her Hogwarts letter last week and everything; Professor McGonagall said we should come over and see you. Of course, her mum and I know next to nothing about the wizarding world and Mals just barely remembers your brothers—“

Mafalda couldn’t help herself.

“You’re my aunt? Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sister? Why’d you never come to see me?”

The woman — Aunt Molly — went red in the face.

“Come in, Mafalda,” she said tiredly. And at her father’s hard look, she added: “Come on then. Both of you. In.”

Once they were inside the cramped, cluttered kitchen, she was introduced to her cousins. Mafalda kind of tuned out for most of it because most of them were younger than her, bloody annoyingly loud, and she wasn’t the World’s Biggest Fan of small children, but she did pay attention to Charlie (thirteen and Gryffindor Seeker) and Bill (fifteen and a Prefect of Gryffindor House). The youngest boy was crying his eyes out because someone turned his teddy bear into a giant spider, but Aunt Molly didn’t seem to care. A ugly-looking sweater was knitting itself on the sofa.

While she obviously knew what a Prefect was, Mafalda had no idea what a Seeker was or why everyone was making such a big deal over Gryffindor or more to the point what Gryffindor even was!

“Who’s that, Mummy?” asked the youngest, a little girl with hair the same violent red as Mafalda’s.

“Your cousin, dear,” said Aunt Molly tiredly. “She’s just come to meet us, her father’s a Squib you see—“

The little girl screwed her face up.

“I don’t wanna Squib cousin!” she yelled.

Despite herself, Mafalda flinched, and her dad did, too.

“Don’t worry, dear. She’s a witch, just like you.”

As if that made it any better.

“I don’t wanna,” the girl repeated, glowering at Mafalda.

“Look,” said Mafalda harshly. “We’ll just leave, get our Squib selves out of your way and on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to London. Thanks for nothing.”

“You didn’t call, Alfred,” said Aunt Molly.

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated.

“There’s no way to contact you, Molly. No phone, and you don’t get our kind of mail. Where am I going to get my hands on a trained owl?”

“She can sleep with Ginny,” said Aunt Molly, nodding towards the little girl.

Mafalda gave Bill, who seemed like the most sensible one of the bunch, a look that clearly said, I am not going to bloody sleep with that demon and that’s final.

“I can sleep with Charlie, Mum, and Mafalda can have my bed.”

Aunt Molly beamed. “What an angel,” she said. And to Mafalda. “Come, dear, let me take your trunk. We’ll all go shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow, doesn’t that sound nice? Alfred, you wouldn’t mind—”

“—Not letting the world know you have a secret Squib cousin, you have nothing to fear, I’m well practiced, Molly.”

Charlie stood up. “Can I show her around the house, Mum?”

The youngest boy looked up, too.

“And can I have a piggy-back ride from her?”

“You’re too old, Ron!” said the snootiest-looking boy, who was sitting in the middle and had the least amount of dirt in his face.

“I’m not too old!” shrieked Ginny, waving her freckled arms. “I’m only five years old, Mum! I want a piggyback-ride!”

“When your dad gets home from work,” said Aunt Molly.

“You’ll get used to us,” Bill whispered.

I don’t have to like you, thought Mafalda.

“So are you coming?” asked Charlie. “We’ve got to de-gnome the garden. You should come too, Uncle Alfred.”

Dad said he’d come with them, but would rather watch. De-gnoming apparently seemed to involve spinning the tiny, screaming, spiteful little (animals? creatures?) until they shrieked with giddiness, then tossing them as far as you possibly could, which Mafalda was very good at, and Bill and Charlie were all too happy to cheer her on, even convincing her dad to join in, too.

"Don't mind Ginny," said Bill as he flung a particularly angry gnome over the hedge. "She doesn't know anything about anything. And it was wrong of Mum to push you away, but I hope we can be friends still, and that you'll come to Hogwarts with us."

Mafalda, despite herself, thought that was an entirely reasonable proposal.

Maybe she wasn’t going to hate the wizarding world.

It turned out that unfortunately for the sake of her sanity, Charlie loved to talk while he was working.

“Have you heard about Quidditch, Mafalda — oh, good one, Uncle Alfred! That must have gone like twenty yards! Did you know the Antipodean Opaleye has no pupils? What House are you going to be in?”

And yet, she found herself (ew) getting a bit fond of them already.

#quirrellmort #quirinus quirrell #mafalda prewett #mafalda weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #bill weasley #charlie weasley #harry potter

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