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happytroopers · 3 years

Note

crosshairs fic idea: reader is gossiping with coworkers (maybe medics idk) about who the most attractive clone is and reader mentions crosshair and he somehow finds out and teases her

Teasing // Crosshair x reader

“It’s definitely Captain Rex. ” Tula, a Rodian nurse from the 212th, stated decidedly. You giggled into the shitty GAR rationed caf.

“That’s just cause your into blondes.” You teased, content with the rounds of chuckles at the mess hall table as Tula’s teal cheeks blushed blue.

“I still don’t know why we’re having this conversation, they’re clones, they all look the same! Thats like the whole thing.” Rys groaned uncomfortably, the only man at the table of civilian enlistments. It was rare for some many of your friends to be in the same place at the same time- but medical staff and engineering alike, every six months after your first deployment civilian enlistments were shipped back to Coruscant for a week long training refresher.

“You can’t say that, it’s rude!” Tula slapped his arm, eyebrow ridges furrowing over her galaxy eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah Rys, we won’t assume you’re any less straight if you admit that Wolffe is clearly the most attractive.” Raina grinned, her peach colored lekku twitching at the thought of the commander. You considered the idea but shook your head as other names got thrown around.

Kix, Fives, Bly, Keeli, Cody, and a couple other names you didn’t quite recognize the names of were tossed around the table. Haircuts, scars, tattoos, personality all became deciding factors as you at your dinner, occasionally chiming in to tease your friends.

“Ok then, who do you think the hottest soldier is?” An engineer from some outer moon data post asked after you teased her for her choice- Tup, a younger soldier in the 501st that you hadn’t met since your transfer to Clone Force 99.

You held your hands up, ready to evade the question. But Raina interjected, a challenging look on her face. You’d gone through academy with the peachy colored twi-lek and her sharp tongue was almost faster than her flying. You knew that look, and it didn’t bode well.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll tell every trooper I see all week that you said it was them.” She threatened with a smirk that said she already knew she had won. The smirk grew to a grin when you let out a defeated sigh.

“Well, in my own personal opinion, that Crosshair is the most attractive man we work with.” You admitted quietly. An honest answer on your part, you did think he was attractive even if you’d never say it to his face. Immediately, several pairs of disbelieving eyes landed on you.

“What? He doesn’t even count!” Rys pointed an finger at you to emphasize his point, “he doesn’t even look like the other clones!”

You shrugged as Tula slapped the back of his head again, her voice scolding as she hissed, “You can’t say that either!”

Then she looked at you, “Really though? He’s meaner than a burned gundark.”

“He’s scary.” Raina nodded.

“He’s an ass.” Another one of the 212th enlistments echoed from down the table. You’d forgotten that a few of the units they were assigned to probably had worked with Clone Force 99 at some point. Nevertheless, suddenly, you felt a need to defend the sniper who had finally become what you’d consider a friend.

“Ok, so it takes a while to get to know him, but...” you started, thinking of all the amazing qualities no one else saw because they weren’t with him all the time, “he’s loyal to a fault, really funny, always pulls me out of sticky situations and usually manages to keep me out of them to begin with, once you get to know him and how he is, you see how much he cares about his-“

“Ok, sure,” Raina cut you off, clearly not believing the cold eyed sniper could care about anything or anyone. She paused to pitch her voice up, flutter her eyelashes, and clasp her hands beside her face like a cartoon princess, “we don’t know him like you do~”

She interrupted herself with a snicker before she continued in her normal voice, “and all that bantha crap, but this is about attractiveness. What makes him hot? And don’t give me any of this, personality is all I look at shit.”

“And if I tell you, you’ll leave me alone?” You asked, though it was more of a demand. Tula nodded, she had always been a little boy crazy, and was dying to hear the scoop. You sighed again, hoping your cheeks weren’t too flushed, “fine, He’s very unique looking, in all the best ways. He’s very tall and lean, but crazy built. I’m into the silver hair, and believe it or not, under the armor that man has the best ass you’ll ever see.”

Tula was leaning on the table, giggling wildly at the juicier bits of you description. Raina had leaned back in her seat, and rolled her eyes, “To each their own, I suppose.”

Fortunately for you, the conversation switched to complaining about to the soldiers that were in charge of your training. There was a rumor the Fox used “civilian training” as punishment for his men when they earned a reprimand. It made sense, all the Coruscant guardsmen that were tasked with running drills with you weren’t exactly thrilled to be there. As if any of you were either.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t understand that attitude. We get it, you don’t want to be here, neither do we, but we are so let’s just get it over with- with out the..... are you even listening?” You were in the middle of your tangent when it was clear none of your group was listening to you. Instead there were all staring over your head with varying looks of slight fear, curiosity, and overall disdain. Tula was the one who attempted to subtly point behind you. At first you feared it was one of the troopers in charge of your training, so you quickly turned around with a forced apologetic look on your face.

To your surprise, you found Crosshair. Helmet free, as usual he had a toothpick between his teeth as he gave your group an appraising sweep. He had the same look on his face that he did when he was sizing up ‘the regs’- until he got to you. It took a year for him to stop looking at you that way, but his slight sneer eased out to neutral-which when it came to the sniper, it might as well have been an ear to ear grin.

“Crosshair! What are you doing here?” You asked, turning around in your seat. In addition to his sudden appearance, just his president was slightly confusing. Typically, Hunter would come himself, or send Tech- all to avoid a potential fight. Your training mates looked slightly bewildered at the amicable exchange.

“Springing you. We’ve got an assignment.” He shrugged after plucking the toothpick from between his lips. Like a true creature of habit, he started twirling the stick between his fingers. You quirked an eyebrow motioning to the other civilians.

“You can’t ‘spring me’, it’s GAR regulation for me to do this training refresher.” You reminded him, he rolled his eyes- but you weren’t sure if his disdain was for your use of air quotes or just disdain for GAR regulation in general. With any member of the Bad Batch, it was usually general disrespect for the rules. You gave him a look before continuing, “I still have three more days.”

“Is it really training? You could run circles around anyone here, especially them.” He drawled as he nodded his head over his shoulders at the table of red painted troopers who were eyeing him in distrust. Your eyes went a little wide, was that a compliment? And then you ducked your head at the offended glares of your table. In an effort to prevent a fight, you stood quickly before letting him lead you off.

“They’re aren’t gonna let me leave, Crosshair.” You reminded him, looking up to meet his eyes. He smirked a bit, setting his eyes forward.

“How are they gonna stop us?” He challenged, dropping his smile to glare at a passing trooper.

“Well, ion cannons come to mind.” You mused before clearing your throat, “You guys could always go with me, you went on plenty of missions before you got stuck with me. It be like the good ole days.”

He didn’t laugh at your joking tone, but shook his head, “You’re one of us, you stay with us”

You were stunned to silence for a second, despite your friendship he’s never referred you you as ‘one of them’. Heat rose to your cheeks as you exited the corridor into a lift, so Crosshair diffused the tension.

“Mission takes precedence over regulations. When have we been know to follow the rules, anyways.” He mused, swiping his ID card so the lift would let you out in the hangar. He relaxed a bit when you snorted a laugh before he continued on, “Besides, how can pull you out of sticky situation if you’re on a different planet?”

You froze in your spot, stomach dropping and cheeks flaring with red hot embarrassment; you had forgotten the cardinal rule of working with Crosshair.

If you didn’t have eyes on Crosshair, Crosshair definitely had eyes on you. And in this case, apparently ears as well.

“Ok, look-“ you started, hoping to ease your embarrassment, but all of the excuses you could come up with fell flat before they made it out of your mouth. Fortunately, the lift door slid open, allowing you to escape before you could further your embarrassment.

Crosshair actually chuckled out loud, long legs easily traipsing past you as he headed towards the Havoc Marauder. Momentarily, he twisted around to walk backwards, pointing his toothpick towards you, “Don’t worry, your ass is almost as good as mine.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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limenysnocket · 3 years

Text

The Plan

Summary: It's your birthday (hooray!) and you still have to work (not so hooray). Nevertheless, you can still count on your friends to cheer you up, but not as much as your loveable boyfriend who insists you spend your birthday with him and a romantic dinner, rather than at a party your friends set up.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, Taika (yes, he gets his own warning), some content may be explicit-ish.

Request: @whatwememeintheshadows

A/N: So people are actually planning their fics nowadays???? Did I not get the memo or something??? These come straight from my head????

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY. Happy (very) belated birthday.

Tags: @honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

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Okay, so maybe work was less of a bitch today, you had to admit. People were nicer to you today, you got an extra thirty minutes added on to your lunch break just because, and, of course, you got a couple of dirty birthday cards and some cash, but that really shouldn’t matter, should it? What did matter, is that you would get to have some you-time, all by yourself, with your vibrator, a couple of movies, and some nice, low calorie ice cream (that tasted like total shit). At least... That’s what you thought would happen.

“You should totally come party with us! I’ve got the booze, Jess has the men, and we’ll make a whole night out of it! Alcohol, strippers, and dancing! How does that sound?” your friend, Enid, reiterated everything for you at least one thousand times today.

“If I wanted a stripper, I’d ask Taika to dye his hair, shave himself everywhere, and oil up a little. That’s the only sight I’d be happy to see, thank you,” you huff and smile. You appreciate the effort to get you out and about, possibly be a little frisky, but your heart just wasn’t in it, and that was much to Taika’s luck.

“Oh, come on. Taika can’t have that much of a grip on you! He has a lot of ‘female friends’, so what’s wrong with you having some ‘male friends’ hm?” Jess cooed to you, but you immediately whirled around, insulted that she would even suggest that you would do such a thing. And you were sure Taika had female friends, yes, but they were just friends. Nothing else. Although, his flirtatious behavior scared you sometimes, at parties. Some of the women would just swarm him, and you feared any one of them would catch his fancy more than you did.

“No. I don’t want strippers at whatever the hell you’re planning,” you stated again, firmly this time. Your two friends whined again, Jess lowering her head in defeat.

“Fine, but can we still bring booze? Invite a few more friends to party?” Enid asked, setting a hand on your shoulder and pleading to you with large eyes.

You chew at your cheek and think for quite some time. Your friends want to throw you a genuine party, and God knows how long it’s been since you’ve hung around a group of unfamiliar faces, especially since you started to date a Hollywood writer. Maybe it was just what you needed. Taika was supposed to be busy for the night, anyway.

You succumbed to the pressure, and nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “But if we get any noise complaints, your talking to the cops for me.”

“Hell yeah! You’re not going to regret this! Just you wait! Go home and clean your place up a little. I’ll be by in an hour or two to get things set up!” Enid clapped her hands together in mischief, and Jess suddenly looked more spry. You gave her a warning glance, and she only grinned back, before skipping away, chatting gayly with Enid at her side.

You can’t believe the shit you just got yourself into, and you still wouldn’t believe it, the moment Enid and Jess arrived with their arms full of cheap liquor, streamers, finger foods, and a bunch of colorful-looking lights that look like they just came from a Wal-Mart Christmas sale. As soon as you gave them the go-ahead, they started tearing shit open. Between setting up, your phone started to ping over and over again, as well as your friends’ phones. Apparently, just a few hours was enough time to notify everyone in LA about a party, who it was for, and where it was going to be at.

You just sat back and sipped on frozen margaritas (meant for the party, but it's your party so you didn't give two shits), until the party started and there was a heavy flow of people rushing into your home. Invited or uninvited.

When things started getting wild, that's when a pact was made. Enid and Jess would be cleaning up your house after this was over. You were already stepping over beer cans as it was.

You can't even say you were having fun there. You barely knew anyone. Most of the people there were just randoms looking for a good time, and unfortunately you saw some of them getting that good time in a dark corner. You made an excuse to run upstairs and lock all the doors of the bedrooms before anyone could think about getting there. That's what you thought, at least.

The party was getting to be too much, too quickly. In haste, you locked yourself into your bedroom, and took a step back. You could still hear the muffled voices and loud, posh laughter on the other side of the door. Those girls would pay. You rush over to your window, overlooking your backyard and see people divebombing into your pool, creating waves and getting people outside of the pool wet. People were leaving their trash everywhere, and many red, plastic cups floated in the (for now) clear waters. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe parties weren't your thing after all. Especially with strangers.

You sit back on your bed and you don't even bother looking out the window anymore. It was best to stay inside your room, if you didn't want to be molested or assaulted by some dumbass who thinks it's okay to anonymously grope women in crowded areas. Your face buries in your hands, griping to yourself how this would be over in a few hours. Right?

There's a subtle knock on your door, and you jump. It's in the regular, stiff-three order, so you are very hesitant about going and getting it. Then, there comes the "shave and a haircut" tune. Not a very good one, and kind of slurred, guessing by the way there was a loud thud at the very end, the person knocking was shoved against the door. Damn you and your pity.

You're quick to move, despite the strong feeling telling you not to. You just knew some poor soul was being smooshed out there. Fuck, you were nervous. This was screaming bad idea, but you were going to pull through anyway. The plan in your head seemed childish, but it should work fine if the person was desperate enough to get in. One quick swipe of the door, and you're golden! Surely...

You flick the doorknob lock and gulp, keeping a tight grip. On the count of three-- and after having to restart because another desperate knock jumbled up your thoughts-- you sent the door flying open. Sure enough, a heavy body came tumbling in with it, tripped, tried to balance, then ended up crash-landing cartoonishly into your bed, bonking their head a tad on the wooden post at the end of the frame. You hissed a little bit, then closed the door again. You rushed to their aid as the person looked up.

"I thought you liked private parties more than this," a soft, kiwi accent cooed at you, obviously through unbridled pain. This bewildered you even more.

Taika was sitting on the floor, legs extended out in front of him, making him look like a giant from your angle, and he was dressed in a blue tux, black dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Well, they seemed a little scuffed now.

"Shit, Taika-- what the fuck are you doing here?" you drop to your knees and cradle his aching head. He winced at the touch, but was too happy to see you again to deny it.

"Well, I came to take you out on a surprise birthday dinner. Maybe pick up a bottle of wine and go dancing with my favorite person, you, under moonbeams and twighlight," his head bobbled from side to side, which didn't help his animated character, "but it seems to me you have company... and a lot of it."

You sigh and brush an unkempt curl back into place while he cheekily grins at you. "This wasn't my idea," you murmur. "Friends set this up. They'll also be the ones to take it down. I didn't really want to spend my birthday with anyone this year. Makes me feel old."

"Well, you seriously should have known someone was about to stop you from taking another bite of that shitty ice cream in your freezer. They dished it out in shot glasses down there. Even a sober chick couldn't handle the taste," Taika snorted playfully and you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be taking this situation surprisingly well. It was weird. "But it was much to my misfortune that your 'friends' got to you before I could. Maybe I should have settled on a birthday lunch, but that didn't sound too appealing to me."

"Would have been much better than the chicken salad and dry-ass piece of cake I had for lunch today," you fired back. He sighed again and stood up with a groan. You followed with him.

"What now?" he mumbled, stroking the stache on his upper lip, then letting the tips of his fingers wander down to his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

"Well, we're both stuck here, so I suppose we settle in for the night and wait it out." You plop yourself down on your bed again and just stare up at him. He doesn't move, however. His eyes were focused on the window, more specifically the lock on it, and he was nibbling at his bottom lip. He was thinking. Some people might call it strange to watch him think sometimes. He really was like a cartoon. With one tap of his foot, he spun around on his heel and faced you.

"New plan," he clapped his hands together. "Get dressed."

You were confused for the next fifteen minutes or so. He helped you pick out a deep blue dress that would somewhat match his and black heels. He was escorting you all over the room with his hand on your lower back. He even tried to do your makeup for you, but he was so inexperienced, you had to take over. The last time he had to do someone's makeup was on the set of the original, five-minute What We Do in the Shadows film.

While you finished your makeup, he was practically smooching your window. He was staring at it like a dog asking to go outside. It made you a bit nervous, seeing the cogwheels turn in his head. He took your hand and lead you to the window, unlocking it and pushing it up.

"Want to go first?" he said behind a proud smile. When he only received silence and a pure, "what the fuck," stare back to his face, he shrugged, and stepped out the window himself. Luckily, you knew fully well he wasn't about to fall flat on his face and die on the pavement below. You had a screened back porch, with a roof over it's head as well, since the seasons tend to get very hot and sticky and mosquitoes just love to lay visits. He stepped onto the roof, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. Once he had bounced down, he brushed himself off, then looked up at you, expectantly.

"Come on, then! Don't have all night!" he hollered and waved to you. "Need me to catch you?"

You gulped, not bothering to answer him. You gently scooted your lower half out the window and taking your heels into your hand. You didn't want to break an ankle on the landing. "Lord, give me strength," you muttered, squeezed your eyes shut, then took a leap of faith. You tried not to squeal as the rushing air flew by you like sticky wind, but before you knew it, your feet touched slanted ground. You felt like you were about to tumble, but strong hands met your waist and kept you up.

"Beautiful!" Taika beamed and kissed your flushed cheek.

"I hate you sometimes," you slapped his chest and made him laugh. He took your hand and started leading you to the other side of the porch roof, and came to the end, where your driveway supposedly was. Parked dead center was Enid's big, black SUV. Tall enough to just be a little hop away from the roof.

"One more, leap, dear?" Taika was on the move again, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could actually make the jump.

"Taika, no. That's Enid's car. She already spends so much on gas, think of how pissed she'll be if she has to remove dents from her roof!" you explain, nervous from the outcome of this little plan of yours.

"Sweetheart," Taika said airily, turning his full attention to you and taking your hand again. "If she was a good friend, she would have known a massive party like this would have pissed you off. Plus, I don't think just cleaning the house is going to get even with this God awful day. So, why not put a few dusty footprints on her car, hm?" Taika was back to grinning, and before you could say anymore, he had leapt away and landed on top of the car with a large thud. He motioned to you with a swipe of his hand. You were in way too deep with him to give up on him now.

You followed through, heels swinging in one hand, and he caught you again like the perfect, Maori prince charming he was.

Car hop, after car hop, he lead the way and made sure you were okay with every stop, until you reached a small enough car to hop down, scale the lawn and make it to his jeep.

"That was," you said, breathless. You couldn't find the right words, and Taika just chuckled at you.

"Exciting?" he filled in the blank space on his own, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you laugh, fanning your chest and brushing a single strand of hair back. "That's a good word for it."

"Well, excitement doesn't stop here," he opened your door into the jeep for you, bowing respectfully and playing everything up for you, like you were royalty. "I have everything set up for you to have a great night with yours truly. As long as everything goes according to the plan this time..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #what we do in the shadows #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you

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farty-city · 3 years

Text

inside bo burnham review no one asked for

i enjoy other peoples commentary and i was writing down my first thoughts anyway so here it is

inside

first song/intro song

i like the phone screen on him, very reflective of how we have had phone screens on us

“roberts been a little depressed” osnskjdnfs

they were right “daddys made you some content so open wide” hjbfafn

intro

oh my god he looks awful

but like in a cute way

maybe

healing the world with comedy (second song)

the canned and queued laugher no exactly… is it a symbol or is it just funny.. who's to say.

it think its a good first song, establishing he knows what he is doing is kind of useless

“the indescribable power of your comedy”

he looks like marc maron rn

i like the synthed voice and synthesizer

the jesus allusion … yeah

“i'm a special kind of white guy”

this feels like he knows how he is perceived by fans.. Make happy was too much

his fucking dancing fksjdnfksj

i think he did a good job looking manic

the lasers lmao

Side 1

Bo made a huge gamble releasing this like,,, what if you just stumbled upon it and this was ur first introduction to him..

I bet its like when i comment dumb things on instagram comments and get that rush of hehehehe

NO NOT BO DEVELOPING BILLIE EILLISH VOWELS

Also this is exactly what he wanted like,, he just wanted to make his things and not deal with the crowds so..

To think i was like finding scraps of him performing at largo and stuff and now,, so much content

life imitates art

the way he's literally what he wrote hgbkdf

there is no authenticity with cameras

suicide ?

facetime with my mom tonight

the blue light.. Yeah

o hblue like sad

i don't know how i feel about the electric music but i guess its no different than whatever else i listen to

this is sad wow

still catchy etc

side 2

i wonder if here will be any fart jokes

that is how the world works (songs)

the huge mess and then him in a sweater

this is reminiscent of that walmart muppets

he became tim minchin with a sock puppet

the “yes… yes sir” stoppp

jkgdsnfijwkensfosnf

qbejfnjne

nerjgnoejns

bo making a political statement and a metaphor for activism and then making it weirdly kinky

brand consultant (bit)

man bun

i have to believe he filmed it with the beard because quarantine vibes and also bc he was tired of being seen as a child

white womans instagram (song)

i did not like that intro

BO AND GLASSES THANK GOD

the daisies wow just wow

underwear

“white womans instagram” or “bo burnham becomes a girlboss”

i like that he didn't lose his cadence like the way the rhymes are you can still tell its him

i don't get the mom part sorry

is it like how people are very superficial but also very personal on their instagrams

this part was legit sad

side 3

i wonder how he felt with cameras constantly on him

Although this is the point hes trying to make

lol seinfeld moment (bit)

unpaid intern (bit and song)

“barely people somehow legal” was so smooth woW

omg he was scatting

he was a man who would scat

oh my god what great news

the react clip omg

i cant believe he did that oh my god

observation/critisism and response to the “can anyone shut the fuck up”

and as i realized what he was doing he was like “i have this need for everything i make to have a deeper meaning” oh my god

now the question is how long will this go on?

jeffrey bezos (song)

idk its catchy

and then theres him like sleeping and talking which kind of is part of the jeff bezos song

bug eyes salamanders hehe

sexting (song)

i do believe this is just a silly song

the earrings tho omg

sounds like post malone hbkjdsnfskj

idk its still about like intimacy in quarantine and that stuff..

the knife (bit)

i know hes copying like other youtubers but like,,, what

stuck in a room (song)

the intro is very funny and relatable

classic bo i love it

i will say this special has been more reflective but i suppose it has to be

“look whos inside again”

i like the end too, this is all a fabrication

this is the clip where hes staring at the projection of himself from his old youtube videos which is sort of more like an ending to the “stuck in my room” song

sorry (song)

i love the 80’s style music and its like zumba

oh this is like an apology song

“father please forgive me for i did not realise what i did, or that id live to regret it” what a catchy line

i would say this is another more “classic” bo song where its self aware and funny

“my closet it chalk full of stuff that is vaguely shitty”

camera falling

this deserves its own bullet because its silly

i'm turning 30 (bit and song)

i remember him talking about this on a podcast and like,, damn i didn't know this also happened LOL

i really like how he did the lighting

“stupid fucking ugly boring children”

suicide talk (1)

this is interesting i like the use of the projection

this is something that could never have happened onstage

just like with the it being projected on him

i guess it could but it would have to be done differently and probably hed have to make it funnier to make it more engaging

intermission

i just checked this is about the halfway point.. Mh

i don't wanna know (song)

“i thought it’d be over by now”

i wish this was longer but i kind of like how its just a little snippet and then the cut

video game (bit)

“i guess i’ll cry again”

“is the dude big or is the room small” lol

hm depression

feelin like shit (song)

ohh the lighting is fun again

this is the tone shift i suppose

the feels like supalonely and the new kind of music

atl

panic attack

everything all of the time (song)

feels like brandon rogers

i enjoy this

this feels like “welcome to youtube” grew up

“a little bit of everything all of the time”

“apathys a tragedy and boredoms a crime”

ok olivia rodrigo

finishing the special (bit)

these feel like diary entries but as standup

interesting choice

jeffery bezos (2)

Why the seaweed suit

Where did he get that

the digital space (bit)

suit up, gather what is needed, and return to the surface

damn

pirate map anfdkjfnskjd

this was so stupid (affectonate)

that funny feeling (song)

the campfire vibes

kenny loggins

i don't get it..

is it about childhood, is it about the present?

i think its talking about the end of content?

“the end of culture”, to quote make happy

change and not liking it

“we were overdue, but it will be over soon”

if the second half of the special is like a panic attack this song is like a momentary pause before it gets worse

“so ive been working on this special”/breakdown

this was .. uncomfortable and genuine which i'm sure is why he kept it

all eyes on me (song/rant)

another sad thing to watch.. damn

me trying to tell if the audio was from make happy

i think he was trying to make it as if the audio was from make happy

this feels.. familiar

and obviously that is the point

“come on in the waters fine”

the use of autotune during the talking part... yeah

sad that he was gonna make another special… and it would have been totally different than this

i’ve decided i like the homage to make happy

It feels like hes made peace with it

the montage of him waking up and the “i think i'm done”

and then of course the ending where he's watching it over to remind us that its all fabricated

possible ending song/ “i promise to never go outside again”

ngl he looks good in the shirt with the haircut hehe

which i feel like is what he wants up to notice

and then like not think after we saw all his breakdowns

“i want to hear you tell a joke when no ones laughing in the background”

i really like the medley

Final thoughts

I want a blooper reel, but this doesn't seem like the kind of special

I also wonder if the songs will be on like apple music, but again, doesn't seem like the kind of special

I'm happy for him, he got to be honest and open and show us the sort of panicky stuff

this self aware comedy is exactly the stuff that i think will be making a comeback in the next decade. John better be pulling up with more deconstructed comedy.

I hope this has given him peace

#i am so sorry for clogging the feed #bo burnham #inside #inside bo burnham #make happy #what.#words words words #bo fo sho #oh bo

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shayneysides · 4 years

Text

You know what what time it is yup its time for unnecessary smosh opinions from me! Hair Edition (i will be sharing what i think abt each of their quarantine hair changes)

Courtney: she really didn’t have much of a change? she just grew it longer, and while I wasn’t a fan (i like just her short choppy hair best) it wasn’t bad at all. 7/10

Shayne: Sir. Please. Why. The mustache absolutely killed me, he looked like a fucking rat, I swear to god, he looked like he would offer to play catch with me then throw the ball directly at my head, god fucking dammit man, did you really have to, I’m so glad it’s gone jesus christ. And then there was the long hair, which i did talk some shit about, but honestly it wasnt HORRIBLE. he just looked like an extra from either shitty disney channel or a PBS documentary about some medieval war. -62/10

Keith: Every single one of his hairstyles was amazing. All of them. Absolutely beautiful man. 10/10

Noah: I mean you have to give him points for commitment. I loved the colors, hated the cut. The buzz cut is NOT the look for him but DAMN that coloring was impressive. 7.8/10

Ian: I want to hate the blonde, I really do, but I just can’t? He looks like a douche, but almost, one who’s actually respectable? Like he looks like he would make loud noises at the gym and say no homo, but would also punch a dude acting creepy to women at a bar. 8/10

Mop Ratt: I hate him so much, but at the same time his super colorful hair wasn’t that bad? Like,, it was there. It existed. I could not care less about it. 5/10

Sarah: No, she did not have any major hair changes over quarantine, and that is a crime, because she would look so fucking good with any sort of rainbow pastel hair. 0/10

Damien: I fucking loved his haircut and beard that he did on his stream, he looked like the smoothest motherfucker on Wallace Street, could’ve pulled off a pinstripe suit or a leather jacket or really anything with that haircut and beard, beautiful, amazing, handsome, but yknow what all of those point are deducted bc of the FUCKING ponytail. i hated that. SO MUCH. It looked so fucking greasy, and was weirdly small, like he did not have enough hair for it so it looked like he just fucked up a paintbrush and stuck it in his hair, oh my god, he looked a highschool asshole boy who talks constantly about how he’s going to join the military and serve our country, i wanted to walk to his house and cut it off myself, he had the worst type of lin-manuel miranda energy, godammit, i fucking,, -1000000/10

#smosh #smosh games #smosh shayne #smosh damien #can you tell i made this just to yell about shayne and damien #bc i love them #but fuck their hair choices #also ian with his light brown hair #immaculate #beautiful #amazing #but he didnt keep it so

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dawsonscreekwasalwaysbad · 5 years

Text

season 6 thoughts

hey quick question why the FUCK did you start with that

like on the one hand i’m glad that now i know what happened right after the end of “that’s too much man!”. on the other hand… ow

the mountain bojack climbs is called “metaphor mountain” God bless Lisa Hanawalt

i LOVE the way the episodes are framed… like you get one flashback to bojack drinking and you think that was the first time then it’s like NOPE he was even younger

CINDY CRAWFISH AKSHDJDSF

AND BABY BOJACK SNUGGLING UP TO HIS MOTHER… TRYING TO FEEL AN EMBRACE SHE WOULD NEVER GIVE… CATCH ME CRYING IN THE CLUB

WHO THE FUCK CAME UP WITH THIS NEW INTRO

AND THE WAY IT HAS ALL THOSE FLASHBACK SCENES BUT IT STILL ENDS WITH HIM FALLING INTO THE POOL AND DIANE AND PEANUTBUTTER CHECKING TO SEE IF HES OK AND THEN HES JSUT LOUNGING IN HIS APPLE SHORTS;;; it’s just,, he’s going back home in the end, going back to the place where he started, as if everything will go back to the way it was before and he’ll find himself stuck in the same cycles he tried so hard to escape… all im saying is, i dont think this season is gonna end well

and how it dwells on his past, everything he did wrong, all the most heartwrenching moments, and there aren’t any changes to the intro (as far as i could tell) until episode 8… nothing changes if all you do is look back.

I am LOVING the Mr. Peanutbutter we’re getting this season. I was never really attached to him before; it’s not that I hated him, just that I liked all the other main characters better. and now that they’ve had him do something really bad and reckon with that,, he’s plumbing new depths, exploring those dark places, questioning if he’s truly as happy as he says he is

and bonding with bojack??? who would have guessed

bojack keeps giving advice that is, at best, the kind he doesn’t follow himself, and at worst, bringing others down into the well of self-pity that he’s been stuck in the whole series

Someone give Princess Carolyn a break…

SHE NAMED HER DAUGHTER RUTHIE IM CRYING

Guy seems like a cool guy but I feel like they’re setting him up to seem nice so that it’s more surprising when it’s revealed he’s not. I’m probably being too suspicious, but also we don’t know much of the details about his divorce, do we? Lakeith Stanfield's great tho

EPISODE 4 WAS COMEDY GOLD

The return of Queefburglar69

I WANNA WRAP PICKLES UP IN A BLANKET LIKE A BURRITO AND TELL HER EVERYTHINGS OKAY

Oh man Pickles talking about how her subscribers will always be there for her… like… it’s not one person, it’s a cloud of people, the contents and shape of which changes, might even be completely different and unrecognizable from one year to the next, but they’re all still there as this nebulous support system. and it reminded me of what bojack said to young sarah lynn about how her fans are the only things she can count on

Todd is babey.

Also him wearing the ace colors under his hoodie!!

I knew Diane’s rationale for going to chicago was bullshit. she said it makes her feel good, but “it doesn’t matter where you are, it’s who you are,” and she still dwells on her bad feelings and hates herself just as much in chicago as she did in LA. moving somewhere else isn’t necessarily gonna change those tendencies, she has to work on it herself.

OH MAN AND WHEN BOJACK GETS DR CHAMP DRUNK AGAIN… THROWING THE BOTTLE OUT THE WINDOW WAS A WAY TO AVOID RUINING ANOTHER LIFE AND HE ENDS UP DOING THE EXACT THING HE HOPED HE WOULD NEVER DO AGAIN

was honestly kinda hoping that Dr Champ was just pretending he got drunk to show how bad bojack could get if he relapsed but at the end when he was like “stay…” that’s how i knew that shit was real.

todd is so fucking stupid i love him

ngl am kinda disappointed that todd’s confirmed white, cause i’ve kinda been picturing him as latino for a long time and i know rbw said he doesn’t want to alienate latino viewers who relate to todd. but it makes a lot of sense, cause he always gets away with stupid shit and gets to the top of things without even having to try just because he knows a guy. and maybe the reason he’s so positive all the time is because it’s so easy for him to be, he never has to worry about shit bc of the privilege his whiteness affords him. also I love that we got to learn more about his backstory

THE CONTRAST BTWN “all the shitty things I did that I can barely even remember because I was high or drunk or it was thirty years ago” and “I remember everything. I’m sober now.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!

sharona sounds like a cross btwn princess carolyn and margo martindale

I have… mixed feelings about the haircut

Oh man Mr. Peanutbutter had a moment… he finally got that crossover episode… I was kinda hoping for a joke that went “Mr. Peanutbutter and BoJack Horseman in the same room? What is this, Philbert?” or “What is this, a short-lived show on a streaming network that got canceled because the star got addicted to painkillers and strangled his costar in a drugged haze?” but this is SO MUCH BETTER. I've never seen him cry before and the way he reacts to himself crying suggests that maybe he’s never cried before at all, and that’s why he just keeps laughing, almost like it’s forced, cause this is supposed to be his happiest moment and it’s not supposed to make him so sad. fucking,, character development

and the cold open of ep 8… you can forgive yourself and move on from your past wrongs but it doesn’t erase the things you did, the effects they have on people, and the trauma they’ve suffered. and then like, how can you forgive yourself if they never forgive you? how do you maintain that balance? why should you move forward if they can’t?

its weird to have an episode consisting entirely of guest stars but it also illustrates the extensive world they’ve built and i applaud that… also where the fuck is ana spanakopita

GINA RETURNS!!! HELL YEAH

her quote about not wanting to be defined by what bojack did to her has always stuck with me, and i feel like now, that quote has sort of come true. like, her saying that made us avoid reducing her to what happened to her, and thats why i wanted to see her come back this season, hopefully moving past it. but she can’t. it traumatized her. and everyone can see the effects of it but she feels like she can’t come forward, cause if she does she’ll be punished. shit like that changes you.

and it’s another instance on the show where someone chooses to advance their career & preserve their reputation over doing the right thing (like what bojack does with herb & sharona), but bojack does it out of self-interest, and gina does it so she doesn’t have to relive her trauma every time she gets interviewed or recognized by a fan. but even when she keeps quiet about it she’s still reliving her trauma

noah fence but what a waste of the once-per-season fuck word. youre really gonna use it in an episode IN WHICH BOJACK DOES NOT EVEN APPEAR, and not only that, but RECYCLE AN OLD SENTENCE FROM A PREVIOUS EPISODE

netflix places no limits on a show’s use of the fuck word (i think), so… fingers crossed for something better in the second part?

OH MY GOD PETE REPEAT INTRODUCED HIMSELF AS PETER ITS ALMOST LIKE HES TRYING TO FORGET THAT TIME & THAT PERSON HE WAS (im probably reading into it too much, I’m sure it’s mostly so we wouldn’t figure out who it was immediately. maybe im just like the kid with the coffee cup.)

and just… ppl describe this show as “family guy or the simpsons except the protagonist faces consequences for his actions” but bojack has gotten away with everything.

you ever just like… you ever watch a scene and feel the cliffhanger vibes creeping up and you just know it’s gonna end there and leave you unsatisfied and begging for more but at the same time that’s what makes it such a good place to end it. that was me with this. (and also the ending of undone)

the thing about this show is, it illustrates what it’s like to be a toxic person. and sure, he has it hard, but the show never asserts that he has it any worse than his victims, even if bojack himself does so. and he only does it so he can feel better about himself. he deserves a reckoning, he needs to pay for his bad deeds. but then, when you know what made him this way and what goes on inside his mind and that he wants to get better, it makes you feel for him, and forces you to ask if he deserves to get better and forgive himself and move forward. but even if he does, it doesn’t change the things he did. it doesn’t fix the lives he’s ruined.

anyway sound off if you think bojack’s gonna die at the end. hopefully not by suicide

#long post #bojack horseman #diane nguyen #todd chavez #princess carolyn #mr. peanutbutter #pickles aplenty #pete repeat #bojack horseman season 6 spoilers #doctor champ #sarah lynn #gina cazador #horsin' around #mr. peanutbutter's house #netflix #raphael bob-waksberg #lisa hanawalt #phoebe talks #mine

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1267

cds.

do you still buy physical copies of cds? I stopped for many years but recently started again.

have you ever listened to a cd for the first time and loved every track? I was like this with Petals for Armor, Flowers for Vases, and After Laughter; I’m just a super big fan of anything Hayley Williams and Paramore put out.

name an artist who always comes out with great albums: I mean I’m gonna be biased and say Paramore...

how long can you listen to a cd without getting sick of it? I don’t really listen to CDs per se, I guess, so I dunno if I can answer this. When I want to music, and a particular artist, I usually pick a playlist composed of songs from different albums.

do you know any good places on the internet to get free downloads of whole albums? I wouldn’t be able to refer you to one, come to think of it.

what was the last cd you bought? My Butter/Permission to Dance set.

have you ever gotten a cd signed by the artist? Nope.

name cds that are in your car right now or would be in your car if you had one: I don’t keep CDs in my car just because I get my music played by connecting my phone to the Bluetooth; but I believe for the longest time I had a Beyoncé album in the CD slot before I took it out.

your hair.

describe your hair style: It’s wavy and layered is the most I can say about it. I don’t style it often.

when was the last time you got a haircut? Around the start or mid-August, I think? I don’t remember when exactly; but it was very recent.

is your hair the only thing you drastically change? I never do drastically change it to begin with. The only things I do with it are 1) let it grow out, 2) have it trimmed to my collarbones once a year.

would you rather have brown, blonde, or black hair (not your natural)? I have black hair, but it would be interesting to go brown.

what's the shortest you've ever had your hair? Up to below my ears.

have you ever had bangs? I currently have bangs and am more than sick of them already ath this point.

if not, do you plan on ever getting them // if you have them, do you plan on growing them out? Yeah, for the latter.

fantasies.

what do you fantasize about most often? How my life could’ve turned out if we weren’t in a pandemic is definitely one of them. Would I have been able to get the same job? Remain in the relationship I used to be in and maybe have even gotten better at handling it? What cities could I have possibly already traveled to with my own money?

if your last fantasy came true, how happy would you be? That would be traveling to South Korea, and I would be over the moon.

how much do you fantasize? Mmm not very often since my work takes up most of my headspace. I usually daydream before bed, I think.

or am i the only one who does? Definitely not.

have you ever told anyone who has been in your fantasy about it? I mean, I just always tell Angela and Reena that I can’t wait to go to Korea with them. But I don’t fantasize about irls in the way that I think you mean.

would you rather fantasize about your ex or the hottest teacher in your school for the rest of your life? I don’t ever want to think of my ex in that way anymore and I’m not in school.

do you often find yourself fantasizing about things/people you know you shouldn't? I mean I will fantasize about certain celebrities but idk if that falls as a should/shouldn’t thing.

your ex.

who did the most damage in your preexisting relationship? I think we both showed our worst weaknesses towards one another. But by the end of it, I will say she inflicted more damage onto me.

if you were/are single, would you have sex with them? Um at this point, no. I barely think about sex anyway.

would/did you give this person your virginity? I did. My feelings for her today aside, I don’t regret it; I trusted her in that moment and I wouldn’t take that away from me.

do you still miss the good times with them? Only in the sense that she used to be my best friend for an extremely long period of time and nearly all the great memories from my past were made with her. do you still talk often? how often? Oh not at all. I haven’t kept in touch since the last day of 2020. did you make a big deal about the break up? Yeah, I was definitely the more reactive one and it lasted for a couple of months. She bounced as soon as she got out of the relationship and I wish I had gotten the hint sooner.

how long did it take you to get over them? Around 6 or 7 months. I really thought it would take so much longer.

if you could tell them one thing, what would it be: I have nothing to say.

the song you're listening to/the song that's stuck in your head/any song you want to talk about

favorite lyric in the song: “Where there is hope, there is hardship.”

what is the song? It’s a song called Sea.

artist: BTS.

how'd you get introduced to this song? It was briefly played in one of their docu-series; I just can’t remember which one. Anyway, I instantly took a liking since it isn’t their usual sound, so I wanted to look it up; and it made a lot more sense when I learned it was initially meant to be a solo for one of the members.

if you could perfectly play this on any instrument, which instrument would it be? Oh this song would be perfect on a violin.

would you have sex with the artist/anyone in the band? Why does everything always revolve around sex for some people?? < LOL same question but to answer it anyway, hahahahaha yes

can you relate to the lyrics? Not in the manner in which it was written, but I do have my own interpretation of it that I am able to relate with a lot. The song definitely gets me emotional.

name a friend that you think would like it: Angela, only because I know she already does like it hahaha. In general, though, K-Pop is still quite polarizing so idk if any of my friends outside of the K-Pop bubble would appreciate it.

would you rather have sex to this song or witness your dad singing it to your friends? Uhm, maybe the latter because I think it would be adorable in a very dorky way

favorite restaurant.

how many times have you been to this place? Countless times, but they were always with my ex. I need to revisit that place just by myself lol.

where is it located? It has multiple branches across the metro but the one I used to frequent is the one at UPTC.

when was the first time you came here? I have no idea but I think the first time was with my mom and siblings actually. A rough guess would be...2016? or maybe 2017.

what's the name of the restaurant? Yabuuuu.

what kind of atmosphere does it have? On the sophisticated sidde but still casual and homey, especially since it offers unlimited rice and sides and you can always just call on a server to dump a scoop of rice or lettuce or whatever when you’ve run out of them haha.

does it have a bar? No, but if I remember correctly they do offer a few alcoholic drinks.

have you ever been here for a birthday? Yes, for my 21st birthday. I went with Angela.

what do you order when you're here? I get their rosu set, which is katsu with a strip of fat.

are they famous for any drinks? No.

have you ever gone here with your significant other? Many times. It was our favorite restaurant.

if it shut down (if its a chain, the entire chain) permanently, how sad would you be? That would soooo shitty. I’d order a meal everyday until it disappears forever lol.

would you work here? No. I love the brand, but not so desperately so as to work for them haha.

favorite teacher

(I don’t really have one, but I’ll refer to the first good professor that popped in my head.)

how old is this person? I have no clue but I would guess he’s anywhere in the mid-20s to early-30s range.

name: HAHAHAHAHA I don’t actually remember his name anymore...oh no...but he was my prof in my international relations class.

are they married? I know he has a boyfriend, not sure about his relationship status. That’s not of my business to know.

would you marry them? Well, no.

do they have kids? I’m fairly certain he doesn’t.

have you ever seen them out of school? Not me but I know some of my college friends have. It’s how I heard he has a boyfriend lol.

what's so great about them that makes them your favorite? He was clearly very passionate about our subject and he was able to explain concepts helpfully and in a way that anybody can appreciate, considering I wasn’t even majoring in the course he taught.

are they more laidback about teaching or strict? Laidback.

do they run any clubs or coach any sports? Not that I know of.

what's their personality like? Approachable, friendly.

if they weren't a teacher, what do you think would be a good profession for them? Political analyst.

#survey #surveys

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sinfulwonders · 4 years

Note

OOOOO ishimondo?

Yass I love them.

Ishimondo

Who adapts easily to working from home, and who's climbing the walls?

Ishimaru adapts to working from home fairly easily. He still needs to take walks and clear his head, but he can really work from anywhere. Mondo, on the other hand, is going absolutely stir crazy.

Who wants to take advantage of not having to stand apart when they go outside on a walk because they've been quarantined together anyway, and who's so paranoid of getting yelled at by strangers (whether that scares or just irritates them) that they insist the pair of them still walk six feet apart?

Bahaha Ishimaru definitely makes them walk six feet apart. It makes Mondo grumpy. >:(

Who gets really into cooking?

Ishimaru usually cooks more, but Mondo actually gets into cooking, because he just needs stuff to do! He’s a quick learner, and soon starts cooking most nights during the quarantine. (I wanna see Ishimondo in aprons tbh. They’d be adorable.)

Who gets really into a TV show they'd never thought to watch before?

Ishimaru has never been big on television, but he and Mondo begin to watch TV shows together while they’re stuck indoors most of the time. Taka gets totally enraptured by a shitty soap opera.

Who starts doing improbable musical performances on the balcony/fire escape/by the front window/in the backyard?

Aww I see Mondo doing this actually. Taka had a really bad day one day, but he always really enjoys when the neighbors put on balcony musical performances. So that day Mondo gets in on it and serenades him to cheer him up!

Who gets the idea that now's a great or at least practical time to get a buzzcut, and does the other try to talk them out of it, sigh "it's your hair" and relinquish all responsibility, or offer to help so it's even?

Mondo would never (his hair is precious to him), so it’s gotta be Taka. He just can’t deal with his hair getting long and in the way! So he tells Mondo that the msot efficient option is for him to cut it! Mondo tries to talk him out of it, but Taka can’t really be talked out of anything... So Mondo has to sit back and pick up the pieces and try to salvage the terrible haircut Taka gave himself.

Who starts keeping a journal and calling it their apocalypse log?

Taka is already a big journaler, so starting a log isn’t out of his wheelhouse at all! Probably would give it a serious name though, and not apocalypse log.

Who makes sure they can video chat with everyone else in their lives and who is baffled by technology?

They video chat together with their friends often! Mondo is shit with technology, so Taka usually sets it up, but they both keep in touch with their friends frequently!

Who gets into social media arguments reminding strangers to self-isolate?

Taka. 100%. He is not afraid to call people out online, because he obviously has their best interests at heart! Mondo just shakes his head when he sees Taka getting into yet another argument with a stranger online.

Who starts making weird videos two days in?

Mondo probably! I could see him making weird videos of quarantine life to send to Leon and Chihiro.

Whose sleep schedule goes totally off the rails?

Taka’s and he is not happy. Taka is a person who lives on a schedule, but quarantine has him forgetting the time of day and even the day of the week!

If they're in a relationship, do they start sleeping together more often?

Yep! Taka’s home, instead of working late in the office, so they can squeeze it into his tight schedule much more easily!

#ishimondo #danganronpa #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo owada #mondo oowada #ask meme #quarantine ask meme #ship meme

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goldenspecter · 4 years

Text

Wash and Go

summary: wash and go (or wash 'n go) - a method of cleaning and styling hair without the use of heat, protective styling or any other manipulation techniques and a staple in the natural hair community.

Valerie hadn't expected to style a ghost kid's hair, especially one as powerful as Clockwork, but she believes that everyone should have a good hair experience. She just didn't think it would be the start of something new.

Word Count: 6,970

Archive of Our Own FFN

This fic takes place early season 1, like maybe a week or so after "Parental Bonding".

-I headcanon Clockwork to be black and queer/nonbinary and express that through all my fics that I've written. Maybe not as explicit as calling out skin tones but through little things like AAVE(African-American Vernacular) and their hair type. So at the very least, they were coded to be read as black whenever I write them. Valerie uses AAVE terms so if there are words that pop out at you that you don't instantly recognize/aren't sure of, that's AAVE and it's used in its correct context. This fic serves as a reclamation of blackness/black culture for CW, Valerie and Tucker, for more on that, it’s included on the AO3/FFN versions but not this one since I didn’t want to clutter it any further with notes.

-Music in this phic: Green Eggs and Ham by Princess Nokia and VRY BLK by Jamila Woods ft Noname

---

It’s quiet in her room and the young, small, blue ghost that she mysteriously acquired is laying in her bed, watching a video on their prized console. They-Clockwork, is quiet, curling in on themselves, as if to make themselves smaller than what they truly are and it rubs Valerie the wrong way. She’s not quite sure how, but she knows that something is off. As an attempt to ease the small child, Valerie moves in to run her fingers through their hair in an attempt to comfort them when her fingers are stuck in thick silver curls and Clockwork hisses in pain, but doesn’t make any move to pull away or pry her fingers out of their hair.

“Chile, do you not comb your hair? When was the last time you ran a comb through that?” Valerie asks, gentle maneuvering her fingers out of the thick, nappy hair.

“You’re supposed to comb it?” asks Clockwork, voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, you’re supposed to comb it!” Valerie almost shrieks, because what parent doesn’t teach their own child to comb their hair or style it for them? Hair was such an important thing for children. It spoke volumes about people, the luscious curls, vibrant blacks and deep browns that stand proudly on top of your head, and she knows each and every hairstyle she rocks is breathtaking and commands attention to her personhood. She can’t imagine a child not being taught to take pride in their hair and the fact that this child hasn’t been taught to be prideful of their hair both saddens and enrages her. She notices the subtle flinch before she softens her voice, “Sorry about that but do your parents really not comb your hair?”

Clockwork is silent before shaking their head, “They said it’s too much trouble,” they say, voice soft. “So they cut it short when it grew out too much. Saved everyone time.”

Valerie’s eyes darken in rage and she has to take cartoonishly deep breaths before she can speak. What kind of parent does that shit? To give up on their child, not bothering to take care of their needs and all but giving up on them? She takes another deep breath and speaks in a low voice, “Well, we’re gonna change that.”

Clockwork furrows an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to do your hair,” she says, “That is, if you’re okay with it.”

“No one wants to do my hair,” Clockwork says quickly, “It’s a pain to do and I’m too much of a baby for anyone to do it. I always cry and scream too much when my guardians try.”

It takes every fiber in Valerie’s body to hold back a venomous retort about how shitty Clockwork’s parents sound, because at the very least, she knows that her anger at their parents will be misconstrued and that Clockwork will grow to be afraid of her. Instead, she puts a hand under their chin and gently turns their head to make them look at her.

“Getting your hair combed sounds scary, I get it,” Valerie starts, “However, it's not healthy to keep avoiding it like this. You gotta do it at some point, and if you decide that after this you wanna get your haircut and keep it short, that’s fine. But at the very least, you deserve to have a good experience when it comes to your hair and I would like to be the one to provide that for you if you like.”

Clockwork falls silent, before nodding hesitantly.

Valerie is surprised that they agreed to something like this so quickly, that they trust her with something so intimate, but she does nothing to convey her surprise. Instead, she stands up and puts her hands on her hips. “Alright, first step is to wash your hair.”

Fifteen minutes later, Valerie gathers two combs, shampoo and conditioner sets them down on the counter of the kitchen sink as she finishes cleaning off the counter. It doesn’t take her long to do so, and when she finishes, she gently motions for Clockwork to come over. Clockwork obediently comes over, tightly holding the dry towel to their chest, their grip tightening when they eye the combs laying on the counter.

“Will it hurt?” they ask, looking down at the ground.. It’s not how a child typically asks when parents have to disinfect cuts and scrapes, but from a child who knows and has been through some serious pain. Valerie’s heart aches for this child she barely knows. She’d love to meet their parents because she has a lot of questions to ask, most of which involve a lead pipe.

“Yea, it will,” she says honestly, not wanting to lie to Clockwork. “Especially since you’ve never had your hair combed but I promise you I will do my best to not make it hurt anymore than it has to.”

“You promise?” Clockwork asks.

Valerie nods. “Come on up here squirt. Let’s get started.” She helps Clockwork onto the counter, moving one hand on their back while the other rests on their chest and she slowly but gently guides their head to hover above the sink. Once Valerie thinks that Clockwork is steady, she slowly removes her hands and moves to turn one of the sink knobs. She slides her hand under the water, slowly waiting for it to get hot enough before she touches the knob for cold water. Valerie puts her hand under the water again, deems it warm enough before she pulls out the spray head and starts to wet Clockwork’s hair.

“Is this too hot?” she asks.

Clockwork squirms a little, pulling their head back from the water. Valerie holds their head still but moves the nozzle away from them and turns the cold water on just a little bit more. She puts the nozzle back at their hair, “How about now?”

“Yes, thank you.” they say.

“No problem. I promised you would have a good experience and this is an important part.” Valerie says, moving the nozzle around to thoroughly wet Clockwork’s hair.

Valerie occasionally fluffs their hair as she wets it. Once she determines that it's fully drenched, she places the spray head back into its socket, grabs the shampoo and opens it with a loud click.

She squeezes a nice dollop of it in her hand to start out and begins to massage the shampoo into Clockwork’s hair. “I wasn’t sure what scent you’d like best so I picked out lavender to start with. We can shop for more if you want to keep this up.”

“I like lavender.” they say, then a moment later, “If I want to keep this up?”

“Yea, if you like how this turns out, then we can keep this up. We can try out different hairstyles, do whatever you want. I can ask dad to buy more hair stuff from the store.” Valerie answers, adding more shampoo to Clockwork’s hair and deeply massaging it in with the soapy suds coating her hands.

“You want to keep doing my hair?” asks Clockwork and Valerie knows that they’re asking much more than that. You want to keep trying? You aren’t ready to give up hope on me? You don’t want to quit?

“Yes, if you let me.” Valerie says, because she loves doing hair. She loves styling it. Taking something that’s so beautiful in its raw form, magnifying its beauty with braids, twisting, heat is a magic all on its own and she’s so glad that she’s able to take part in that magic.

Clockwork lets out a tiny ‘ok’ so softly that Valerie has to really strain her ears to hear them. She can tell that she’s made them uncomfortable so she quickly dries her hands, opens Spotify on her phone and plays some music. Her voice and body falls into the trap that the music lays out for her and so soon, she swings her hips as she sings proudly while still continuing to wash Clockwork’s hair.

“Love my inner child, Kool-Aid smile

I been like this for a while

Going into town, gonna find a crowd

Right by the kids in the park with the style”

Her joy is contagious, as Clockwork begins to tap their hand against their chest with the beat. Valerie’s nails scratch against their scalp, causing Clockwork to let out a groan.

“Something wrong?”

Clockwork immediately shakes their head, “No. Just- that felt good. Can-can you keep doing that?”

“Of course,” Valerie says as she presses her fingers into their scalp, massaging the skin with varying pressures to both distribute the foamy substance and pamper the neglected area." “Is it too much pressure or good enough?”

“Uhh...good enough?” Clockwork answers, and Valerie can tell that she’s hit the sweet spot. “I like the pressure, I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay not to know why,” Valerie reassures them, pulling the nozzle and rinsing out the shampoo before adding more into the child’s hair. “But to be honest? It just feels good to have someone massage your hair and that’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. When my dad used to wash my hair, I loved it when he massaged my hair.” Valerie says, continuing to massage their hair. Her music is still playing, hiding a smile when she hears Clockwork softly humming to her music.

Her hands pull at several strands of silver hair at the nape of Clockwork’s nape. “Do you hear any squeaking?”

“A little? What does it mean if it’s squeaking?”

“Your hair’s clean. Hold your ears closed, I don't want water to get in them. Swimmer’s ear is hell.” says Valerie, thoroughly rinsing out the soap and suds before she adds more. “I’ll wash it again just to make sure. I want it completely free of any build up of dirt or dandruff before I style it.”

Valerie washes Clockwork’s hair a third time, this time making sure that she completely scrubs out all of the dirt and dandruff that might have built up before she rinses out the soap and suds for the last time. She gets the bottle of conditioner, begins to squeeze it out, and rubs into Clockwork’s hair.

Once there’s an ample amount of condition in Clockwork’s hair, Valerie reaches across the sink to grab one of her combs, a golden wide tooth comb and readies it in her hand. Clockwork eyes the comb with great suspicion, instinctively scooting away from the menacing comb.

Valerie notices and rests her hand on their chest to stop them in their tracks. “Look, I know, I know. It’s scary, it’s going to hurt a lot, especially since you haven’t had a lot of experience with this.” Valerie begins, voice soft. “If you need to scream, cry, whatever, then go ahead and do it. I’m not going to stop you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Clockwork whispers, bracing themselves to feel the teeth of the comb dig into their hair.

Valerie places the comb at Clockwork’s edges, pulls the comb through the hair to form a part, occasionally having to pull the tangled strands apart by hands. During this Clockwork hisses, kicking the side of the island in pain. She does this two more times, effectively parting the soaking wet hair into three sections. Valerie fully sinks the teeth of the comb into their hair, starting at the scalp and begins to pull the comb through, collecting dead hair as it goes through stopping at the ends. Valerie focuses on the ends, where its the most tangled, combing it through multiple times to get it to that silky smoothness.

She retracts the comb from their hair, pulls the dead hair piling in between the teeth of the comb and puts it in the strainer at the bottom of the sink to be collected when she finishes. Valerie combs through the first section one last time and nods in satisfaction at how easily she can run the comb through their hair.

Sticking the comb in Clockwork's hair, she does a quick check in. “How are we feeling?” she asks.

Clockwork quickly wipes away any tears pooling at the corners of their eyes before they turn their head to look at her. “It hurts, but I think I’ll be okay.” they say.

Valerie quirks an eyebrow. Getting hair combed hurts like hell, even when combed often. They have to be in some serious pain for how tenderheaded they were. “You sure?” she presses, “I can stop for a few minutes if you like. It’s not a big deal, Clockwork.”

The small child shakes their head, “No,” they say, a soft sob itching to be let loose but they manage to suppress it. “You can keep going.”

“Okay,” Valerie says quietly, pulling the comb out of Clockwork’s hair and resumes by starting to comb out the next section. Clockwork continues to hiss in pain, but doesn’t do anything to stop her.

Dead hair continues to gather at the bottom of the sink as she combs through the sections.

“What’s this song? I like it.” Clockwork asks, Valerie muses that they’re trying to focus on something other than the pain.

“VRY BLK by Jamila Woods and Noname. It’s one of my favorites.” She pulls the hair from the teeth of the comb before returning the comb through their hair. “Would you like me to turn it up?”

They nod, “Yes please.”

Valerie dries her hands on her shirt, grabs her phone to turn the volume up and starts the song over. A soft steady percussion starts up and slowly takes over the kitchen.

“Black is like the magic, the magic's like a spell

My brothers went to heaven, the police going to, yeah, they're going to

Hello operator, emergency hotline

If I say that I can't breathe, will I become a chalk line

Up to see the movie, line up to see the act”

Valerie takes pride in her voice, as she continues to sing as she finishes combing out Clockwork’s hair, and smiles as she can hear them sing along to the chorus very softly. They aren’t flinching from the pain as much and she considers that to be a monumental improvement. She runs the comb through several more times to make sure that their hair was fully combed out before she rinses out the conditioner in their hair.

When the conditioner is completely rinsed out, she turns the water off, gathers the clumps of hair sitting in the strainer and dumps them in the trash can. She returns to the sink, helps Clockwork sit up, pulls the towel away from them, and drapes the towel around their neck. Valerie holds out a hand for Clockwork to hold onto and pulls them off the counter.

“How was it?”

Clockwork runs a hand through their hair, eyes widening in surprise that it’s free from kinks. “It’s...good. It felt good.”

Valerie beams, “Good.” She grabs the combs, her phone, and a chair that’s in front of the kitchen island and takes with her into the downstairs bathroom. “Come along Clockwork!”

Clockwork follows after her, droplets of water forming a trail behind them. They’re standing outside the bathroom when she wordlessly gestures for them to sit in the chair in front of the mirror. Clockwork struggles to get in the chair since it’s the chair is a bit higher than them but they manage to hop in. when they finally hop on the chair, they are entranced by their reflection staring back at them in the mirror. They pull at a few strands of silver hair, looking on in curiosity as it unravels and coils back once they let go.

This was what their hair looked like when it was combed, washed and treated with care? Impossible. It looks.. too good. Healthy. It’s on their head, so it has to be their hair. Maybe they shouldn't get too attached because Valerie says she would be willing to keep this up, but what if she grows tired of doing it and ends up cutting it like the Observants.

“Looks great doesn’t it?” Valerie says, cutting them out of their thoughts.

Clockwork nods, “I can’t believe that this is what my hair looks like.” they say in awe, because holy shit this is what their hair actually looks like. Their vision blurs and before they can wipe their tears away, Valerie’s hands are already there, whipping away the tears that spilled over.

“If you think this looks good now, just wait until I’m finished.” Valerie says, excitement bleeding in her voice. She takes the towel off their neck and drapes it across the chair. Grabbing the comb, Valerie quickly combs through their hair and sections it into four big plaits.

Valerie takes down one of the braids in the back, pulls out a jar of curl defining creme, opens it up and scoops some out with her fingers. She then slabs the cream on top of their hair before she takes time to really work it through, pulling her fingers through the hair to define the curls. Her hands dive back into the jar to scoop out some more and continue massaging it through Clockwork’s hair, saturating the hair with the cream.

Clockwork is quiet throughout the process, casually stimming as Valerie did their hair and they honestly couldn’t believe how easy it was so far? Why couldn’t the Observants do something like this?

“It’s so smooth,” Clockwork says.

“Yea, glad I combed your hair out right?” Valerie jokes with a smile.

She gets a fervent nod as her answer. "Me too. Otherwise, it would be a helluva lot harder to do this."

The music still plays in the background as Valerie finishes one section, takes down another braid and continues the process. It takes about an hour to do, and that hour goes by quickly.

When Valerie finally finishes, she proudly puts her hands on her hips, "What's the verdict so far?" she waits for Clockwork's reaction.

Clockwork leans forward in the chair to get a closer look at their hair. This is actually, really their hair. Fingers slowly pull at some of the defined curls hanging in front of their face and coming away with a build up of the cream between their fingers.

“It’s so pretty.” Clockwork says in awe, and as much they don’t want to, they can’t help but be prideful of their hair. They look at Valerie. “What now?”

“We let it dry.” says Valerie. “It takes a few hours to do.”

“I’m a Time Master!” Clockwork answers, gesturing to the clock in their chest. “I can speed time up, and you won’t even notice!”

“Oh we don’t have to wait that long.” Clockwork says simply.

“How so?” Valerie answers, “Unless you’re talking about a hairdryer, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“You? A Time Master?” Valerie asks, seeing Clockwork nod enthusiastically, quirks an eyebrow. “You’re so young.”

She doesn’t give herself time to think about how she literally just did a Time Master’s hair. Because holy shit, if this child is so powerful, then how powerful were their parents?

Clockwork frowns, “That’s what everyone says. The Observants think so too, but here I am!” They force themselves to smile and Valerie thinks there’s so much more to that bright and cheery optimism that Clockwork is exuding.

“Yea, you are. But I think using your powers to dry up your hair is cheating.” Valerie says gently. “If you want to truly experience this, then you gotta wait like the rest of us mere mortals.”

“How long does it take?”

“Four hours. Give or take.” says Valerie, “Sometimes I use a blow dryer to speed it up a little bit if I’m not in the mood to wait that long. I can use a blow dryer if you want?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” Valerie goes into the bathroom closet, rummaging through the piles of towels, hair products, and bed sheets until she comes across the blow dryer. She gets, heads back to the sink, reaches over Clockwork to plug it in the wall, and drapes the tower over their neck. “It’ll get a bit hot, just let me know if it’s too much.”

“I know it’ll get hot, that’s what they’re supposed to do. I’m not a baby.” Clockwork says smartly and Valerie can’t help glaring at the small child.

“You and I, we finna fight.” She says with a smile. “But seriously, tell me if it’s too hot, okay?”

“I don’t see the point, but okay I guess.” Uneasiness grows in Valerie’s stomach, what the hell has this child been through for them to not take their own limitations seriously? What the hell have these Observants done?

Valerie is seriously starting to question that she needs a lead pipe when she finally does talk to these Observants.

Valerie turns the blow dryer on, keeping it several inches away from Clockwork’s hair, moves it around their head, the heat of the blow dryer slowly but surely drying it a bit. She occasionally wraps her hand around the curls, to feel how wet their hair is and to make sure that she doesn’t dry it too much.

“How’s the heat?” She asks.

“Hot.”

“That’s what blowdryers are supposed do.” She mimics from earlier, laughing when Clockwork glares at her. “Is it too much?”

A firm shake of the head, “No? I don’t think so? It feels kinda nice.”

“Cool, cool. I’m only doing this for another minute or two since I don’t wanna dry it out too much.” Valerie blow dries it for another 5 or so minutes before she cuts the blow dryer off, unplugs it, wraps the cord around it and stuffs it back in the closet.

Clockwork slides off the chair, shuffles towards Valerie, who presses a hand against the top of their hair.

“Hmm, it’s still somewhat wet. It shouldn’t take more than two hours for it to fully dry out.” Valerie guesses.

The child fumbles with their gloved fingers. “What do you normally do while you wait?”

Valerie rests a hand under her chin. “I watch tv, play a game or two, read a book if I don’t have homework to do.” Eying Clockwork, she continues. “Homework isn’t that important though, what would you like to do?”

“I dunno?” Clockwork says shyly, pointedly looking at the ground.

She doesn’t say it out loud because she’s certain it would embarrass them, but the way Clockwork acts is oh so similar to the little kids that she babysits for some quick and easy money and that in and of itself is so damn adorable.

“What do you normally do then?”

“I mainly watch the timestreams! Or I train on my powers! Sometimes I have to attend some meetings or handle some crisis that the timelines are going through at times.”

‘Does this child do nothing but work?’ Valere thinks to herself. “Do you do anything for fun?”

“I don’t have time for fun. Not when there’s important work to be done.” Clockwork says with a derisive snort, sounding so much older than the seven/eight year old they are. “Humanity’s a little bit more important than me having fun.”

“I’m sorry but what the fuck is wrong with your parents?” Valerie snaps.

Clockwork flinches and Valerie immediately regrets it.“There’s nothing wrong with the Observants. They’re doing just fine.”

Valerie growls, pressing her hands to her temples, trying and failing to suppress the frustration that she’s experiencing right now. “Yes there is. My dad doesn’t make me work all the time, your parents shouldn’t either.”

“But that’s different!” Clockwork shouts.

“How the fuck is it different?”

“You’re a human child! You wouldn’t understand!”

“You’re a child too!” Valerie shouts. “You are a literal child! You’re younger than me!”

Clockwork sputters at that, trying and failing to come up with a response. “But I’m a Time Master-”

Valerie clasps a hand on one of their shoulders, “You might be a Time Master, but you are a child first and foremost. That’s the most important thing for you to be and the Observants are wrong to teach you otherwise.”

The teen pulls Clockwork into a tight hug, “How about we play a game or something? We can do whatever you want.”

Clockwork’s muffled voice mumbles out, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I show you my tower?” Clockwork asks excitedly, pulling away from her and she can visibly see the way Clockworks eyes light up. “It’s really cool, there’s a lot of rooms, hallways and books-”

Valerie presses a finger against Clockwork’s lips, “Why talk about it when you can show me it?”

"I'm not really the best at teleporting. I have accidents sometimes," Clockwork admits softly. "I don't think I'd be any good teleporting two people."

She shrugs, "Maybe you aren't. Perhaps there's other ways to get there."

"There are but natural portals take forever to form and there aren't any in Amity Park." Clockwork says, "Guess we'll have to teleport there."

Valerie raises an eyebrow, looking down at the young Time Master. "I thought you weren't any good at it." She says suspiciously.

Clockwork doesn't say anything as they run towards Valerie. "We'll have to find out won't we?" They say, jumping up, diving into Valerie, wrapping their arms around her. A portal formed behind the two children, both of them falling through the portal and Valerie landed on her bottom as they came from the other side with Clockwork buried into their chest. Clockwork sits up, looks down at Valerie and tilts their head.

"Did I do good?" Clockwork asks.

Valerie pulls herself up, uses her elbows to keep herself propped up, and looks around. The simple bathroom that her and Clockwork was in is gone, the house, everything that she knew is nowhere to be found and was replaced with scrying portals twice her size and clock gears of various sizes. Valerie questions why there are so many gears here, since it seems like it would be dangerous for a young kid like Clockwork to be around no matter how smart or cautious they seem. But she doesn't say it out loud, instead, saving it for whenever she finally meets these Observants. She looks to her left and her right, the seeing the hallways that Clockwork mentioned from earlier, but the more she stares down the hall, the more they grow in size and loom over her, the discomfort that started off small growing until she can actually feel it gnaw at her.

Clockwork taps her shoulders and she jolts, tensing her shoulders before remembering that it was only just Clockwork as she loosens the tension in her shoulders and lets out a deep breath.

"Did I do good?" they ask again.

Valerie looks around one last time, really taking in the scenery of the tower, how everything the tower touches seems to be saturated in green overtones, the overwhelming sense that everything about this place feels so unnatural, disconcerting and wrong and that a simple human like her wasn't meant to be here. Slowly, she nods her head, not wanting Clockwork to pick up on her uneasiness.

"You did great buddy." she says. "You mind getting off of me?"

Clockwork beams at the praise, floating off of Valerie and helping her stand up. Once she's up off the ground, they look up at her with wide expectant eyes. "Can I give you that tour now?" They ask, tail flicking behind them excitedly.

"Yea, sure buddy." Valerie says, yelping when Clockwork takes her hand and begins dragging her through the halls to give her the tour of the citadel.

As Clockwork gives the tour, she takes note of all the empty rooms that have been repurposed for gardens and apocatheries, libraries brimming with rare books that are worth more than what her father will make in his entire life time, how Clockwork is just so enthused with bringing someone along to show them empty rooms devoid of life and personality and she has to wonder how lonely they have to be.

She's not sure how long the tour was, but it felt like it was over before it truly started. Green eyes catch a door with a startling amount of locks on it and her curiosity shines through.

"What's behind that door?" she asks.

Clockwork tenses, the grip they have on her hand tightening. "It's nothing." they say with a tight voice, pulling Valerie along as the two move away from the door. "Let's go."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Tour's over." they say cryptically.

So it is dangerous. "Why is there something so dangerous in your tower?" She asks, walking behind them. "Why would these Observants leave something like that with a little kid? What if you got hurt?"

Clockwork shrugs, "It's not like I don't heal up, I'm usually fine."

"Usually? What about when you aren't?"

"I heal. Eventually. and I get over it." Clockwork says, leading Valerie back to the area where they started from. "That's it."

"Don't these Observants help you heal or get better?"

Clockwork raises an eyebrow and shakes their head in a manner that says 'dont ask stupid questions.' "No? Why would they? I get myself in trouble, I get myself out of it." They say nonchalantly, turning their back to Valerie as they wave a hand to change the image on their scrying portal. "You wanna see something cool?"

Valerie begins to shake her head to argue about the Observants, but whatever she is going to say dies down in her throat when she sees the hopeful look on Clockwork's face begging her to drop the subject.

Reluctantly, she nods her head, "Sure why not?"

Clockwork beams at her, grabs her hand and pulls her into the scrying portal. Valerie doesn't have time to think about how she feels like she's wading through jelly as she goes through the portal and how her body goes numb for several seconds after she stumbles through the portal before she finally catches herself awkwardly standing on her tippy toes, body lurching forward and just one misstep away from falling flat on her face

Time travel, she supposes, isn't really meant for humans.

"Are you okay?” Clockwork asks, “I’ve never had a human travel with me before.”

Valerie nods, before her throat coats itself in bile, feels it rise and fills her mouth and she immediately shakes her head. The fourteen year old throws herself over the closest ledge, leaning over and throwing up the bile that came out of nowhere. Her legs buckle as she continues throwing up before she finally stops, resting limply for a few moments. Valerie pushed herself off of the ledge, shakily pulls herself back together, before turning around to face Clockwork.

“If I wasn’t fine before,” she rasps out. “I’m fine now.”

Clockwork raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

Nodding her head, “My mouth feels gross but some water should do me some good.”

“Okay.” Clockwork says, slipping their hand into hers and guiding her away from the stone ledge. “There’s a resturant around here somewhere, we can get you some water.”

It finally crosses Valerie’s mind to ask where she is. “Where are we anyways?”

“Rome.” Clockwork says offhandedly.

“Ancient Rome?” Valerie asks.

“Noooo,” Clockwork says with a laugh, looking up at one of the street names before crossing the street. “Present day Rome. Don’t get me wrong, ancient Rome is cool and all, I just didn’t think you would like to see gladiators, deal with the stench-Romans bathe but like, Rome is still gross and all the other nastiness that goes on.”

Oh. She didn’t consider that. She wonders from the way they’re crossing the street, with no one really paying attention to them, if they were really there. “Can they see us?”

“Who?”

With her only free hand, she vaguely gestures to everyone around them. “Them!”

Finally understanding who Valerie was referring to, Clockwork shakes their head. “No. to them we don’t really exist? I don’t know how to explain it, but whatever we do right now isn’t really going to impact the timeline.”

Valerie doesn’t really get it. Maybe it’s because she’s not a Master of Time and doesn’t really understand the complexities that come with the passage of time and if she was quite honest, she’s grateful that she’s just a human who interacts with time in such a simple and straightforward way. Valerie doesn’t get it, but she trusts this kid that’s pulling her through the streets of Rome.

The two walk by several clothing shops before finally making it to that restaurant that Clockwork mentioned earlier. Valerie looks up to see the name of the restaurant and is taken aback when she sees the white double arches standing out against the black drapes.

“McDonald’s?” Valerie asks, a hand on her hip. “Of all the places in Rome and you choose McDonald’s?”

“McDonalds is considered a restaurant, so I technically brought you to one.” Clockwork says arrogantly, curling their fingers around the door handle. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

Clockwork pulls the door open and enters. Valerie grumbles and begrudgingly follows after them, slipping through the open space before the door closes, her potential complaints dying down when she saw the interior of the McDonalds. Black bricks on the floor, with dining booths covered in leather, each one separated by wood and marble. She takes a few steps forward, taking in how...sophisticated this McDonald’s looks. As she marvels at the decor, her eyes move away from the furniture and flooring before they linger and gaze in awe at the sculpture cornered a few steps away from the tables.

Valerie steps in front of the statue, a beautiful Roman woman with a dress. Her arms were missing, and the dress rests below her chest, each of the folds immaculately sculpted in the marble. Valerie reaches her hand out to touch the detailed folds of the dress, but retracts her hand in fear that if she touches something so beautiful, it’ll break and crumble in her hands.

“It’s not going to break, you know,” Clockwork says, “It’s not the original sculpture, the original is in a museum if you want to see it.”

She looks down at them, then back at the sculpture. “Do you know who did it?”

Clockwork shrugs. “I dont know but it’s no Venus de Milo.” They turn away, walking down the steps, and heading into the main area of the restaurant. “You still want that water?”

Remembering how dry and parched her throat is, Valerie nods, stepping down and walking into the main part of McDonald’s and she’s taken aback at how fancy it looks. The Nasty Burger could never look like this, “It’s a fancy McDonald’s, I’ll give it that.”

“I thought all McDonald's look like this?" They ask.

"Chile no," she scoffs, they walk past the people and stop in front of a self-service kiosk. Valerie taps the screen and orders herself her much needed water.

"Can you throw in some fries please?" Clockwork asks. "Nuggets too!"

"Aren't you hungry?" She teases, adding the requested items to the cart. "I could go for some fries and a chicken sandwich myself."

Adding the items to the order, she taps finish, and when the payment page comes up, she turns to Clockwork. "And how do you propose we pay for all of this?" She asks, "I don't have any of my money on me."

Clockwork bites their lip, before leaning over and tapping the screen, and fiddling with it before it shows that the order was paid for it. The kiosk spits out a receipt, Valerie takes it and eyes Clockwork suspiciously. "What did you do? I thought you said we don't really have an impact on the timeline."

"I just took advantage of a little loophole in the system," they say innocently. Looking up at Valerie, they shy away from her disapproving frown, turning away from her appearant disappointment as they explain themselves. "It's not going to hurt anyone, and we don't really have an impact on the timeline right now."

Valerie notices how they turn away from her, and decides to let up, relaxing the tense muscles on her face. She wasn't happy that they technically stole from the people here, but she won't harp on them too much. They say it won't really have an impact on the people here, so that doesn't make it that terrible right? Shaking her head, Valerie moves away from the kiosk, towards the register and waits for their food to be served. Ten minutes pass by, she hears their order number called out, grabs the food, rolls the top of the bag inward to keep the food hot, and searches for a table that isn't too full to sit at. Clockwork stays close to her, and she offhandedly notices how their hand slips into the crook of their elbow and latch themselves close to her. Something foreign blooms in her chest but she squashes it down before she can put a name to it or fully explore it, blaming it on the weirdness involving Clockworks powers.

She finally finds them a place to eat, an area that seemed to be a bit secluded and didn't have as many people in the area. Valerie and Clockwork sit down at a semicircle shaped booth several feet behind a case of glass holding cups with plants in. Clockwork slides in the booth first, Valerie slides in next and sets the food on the table. Opening the bag, she pulls out the Clockwork's food along with some ketchup and honey mustard packets and gives it to them.

Clockwork pulls their fries and nuggets close, dips some fries in the ketchup and sticks them in their mouth. "Thank you!" they say happily, swinging their feet as they continue to eat. Valerie doesn't say anything back, opting to open her chicken sandwich and taking a bite out of it.The two children eat in silence-rather, Clockwork talks about whatever crosses their mind, while Valerie occasionally nods along and asks a question or two of her own. She ignores that little feeling in that chest from earlier as she listens to Clockwork talk, as she's certain that it's just some weird pain in her chest or stomach that'll go away.

Valerie finishes eating about twenty minutes later and puts her trash in the white paper bag. Clockwork notices her, looking up at her, "Did you want to see more of Rome?" they ask, "There's a shopping district a few streets away, if that's what you're into."

She doesn't say anything as she grabs a napkin, folds it in half and reach out to the little Time Master's face to wipe off the remaining honey mustard and ketchup from the corners of their mouth. With her other hand, she feels Clockwork's hair, gently patting the top and middle parts of their hair, rubbing the curls between her fingers to truly feel it, and pulls her hands away from them with a smile. "I'll take a raincheck for that," she says with a smile, gently tapping their nose, grabbing their trash and tossing it in the trashcan next to the table. "But we need to go back home, I have to show you something."

Clockwork tilts their head before nodding. The seven year old snakes their hand into Valerie's, tightly clasping their hands together, scrunching their eyes close and before Valerie knows it, the two are back in her kitchen.

"How'd you do that?" she asks, "Last time, you needed a portal."

Clockwork shrugs, "I dunno? You said we had to go home," they say, "This is home."

Oh. Valerie isn't quite sure how to feel about that admission, and she has a lot of feelings about the way Clockwork easily and honestly calls this house, where she lives, home. So she'll bury them for right now, maybe unpack them later, maybe ask her dad about these emotions. She senses that Clockwork is staring at her, realizing that she spaced out, plasters a wide smile on her face to make up for it. Valerie covers their eyes, shushing their protest when she walks them over to the bathroom and stops in front of the mirror.

Slowly, she lowers her hands from their eyes, watching with joy as Clockwork stops their protesting to stare at themselves in the mirror. Valerie moves behind them, fluffing their curls up a bit, so they can be at full volume. "Do you like it?" she asks, "Be brutally honest, Clockwork."

Clockwork stands there in shock, a hand reaching up to tug at one of the curls at the edge of their forehead. "It's so pretty," they say in awe, then noticing Valerie standing behind them. "It can't be mine. There's no way this can belong to me."

"Yea, it is." she says simply, shifting her weight to one side of her body and leaning against the bathroom door.

For the second or third time that day, Clockwork cries. Valerie bends down a little bit, right until the two were eye level and pulls Clockwork in for a hug. She feels them trying to hide in her neck but she shakes her head, gently guiding their head to look in the mirror, "Every single strand of hair belongs to you," she says, wiping away their tears. "I know you don't believe me, but your hair is so beautiful. I meant what I said earlier, I'll keep doing your hair as long as you want me to."

"You mean that?"

Valerie nods, "I meant every word I said."

"Can you…?" they begin, but they go quiet, still unable to ask the question.

"Yea," she answers, pressing a kiss on their forehead. "Come back next week, okay?"

"Okay." Clockwork says.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #dp clockwork #dp fanfic #dp fanfiction #goldenspecter writes

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damnedparker · 4 years

Text

dimple

pairing: din djarin x reader (no y/n, gender neutral)

warnings: like two swear words. din & you having cute couple banter. minor insecurities from din about how he looks :-( this is just a bunch of fluff

summary: a morning with a sleepy mandalorian in which you discover your new favorite feature of his.

also posted on ao3

pedro pascal has a dimple so that means that din djarin does too. let’s all pray for smiling helmetless din in s2 so we can see it in action

The recycled air in the Razor Crest was cold. It crept up your often bare legs as you slept, causing you to wake up with goosebumps in the morning— or whatever time you woke up when you managed to catch a few hours— especially when a certain Mandalorian had somehow wrapped himself up oh-so-cozily in the measly two blankets you both shared in the tiny cot.

Although the two of you always fell asleep pressed close together, a reminder to each other that you were simply just there and safe, sometimes Din ended up sprawled out, his arm still thrown over you, but his body smushing you against the frigid metal wall in the minimal amount of space you already had.

It seemed like this morning was one of those occasions.

It didn’t bother you, really. You would always appreciate being able to wake up to the man you loved, your husband, your partner. It also made for wonderful material to tease him about. Which happened to be one of your favorite pastimes.

You shifted carefully onto your other side to face him, scooting closer. The arm flung over your middle tightened around you to pull you closer to him. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, causing you to smile. Din was exceptionally cute in the mornings, usually grumpy and clingy, refusing to get out of bed until the last moment possible, especially when he had no job to be responsible for at the moment, like these past few days. He had landed the Crest on a remote planet in the Outer Rim; beautiful and green, with plenty of frogs for the little one to chase until he tired himself out. You hadn’t been here for long, but you knew that these handful of peaceful days and rest would soon be over, and it would be back to bounty hunting for the pair of you.

For now, though, you could enjoy the way your partner’s soft curls stuck up in every direction from a night of blissful sleep, and the way his mouth was slightly parted as he continued to snooze.

You admired him for a while longer, gently lifting a finger to trace over his jawline, before snuggling closer to press a kiss to the side of his nose. He made a face in his sleep at the touch but didn’t wake. You didn’t want to ruin his much-deserved slumber, but you were cold.

“Din,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair in hopes the touch would wake him. “Wake up.”

“Hmmm,” he let out, scrunching his nose and sighing. “Go back to sleep, riduur.”

“I would, but I’m cold.” You whined, and he cracked open one eye to assess your discomfort. “You stole all the blankets. Again.”

“’M sorry, cyare,” his voice vibrated deliciously low and warm, laced with drowsiness. He shuffled around a bit to get the covers on top of him, rather than twisted in his legs, then lifted them to fully draw you into his chest. “Is that better?” You hummed in acknowledgement, now surrounded by his body heat, pressing a short kiss to his lips in thanks. A smile stretched across his lips as he took the sight of you in, pressed against him and winding your arms around his back to get even closer. You studied his face for a moment, noticing a cute indent right below the apple of his right cheek, caused by his smile.

“Did you know you have a dimple?”

“What?” He furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly. A mannerism he never really stopped even in intimate moments like this when his helmet was off, set to the side while he got to indulge in having you all to himself.

“You have a dimple,” you poked his cheek right where it had popped up, appearing once again when he smiled at your touch. “Right there.”

“Thank you for noticing?” He finally responded, clearly confused as to why you looked like you had just seen something totally revolutionary.

“You didn’t know? It’s very cute.”

“I still don’t know. You could be lying,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Trying to flatter me.”

“I do like to flatter you. I enjoy seeing you all flustered,” you teased. “It’s kind of a power trip to make a scary bounty hunter blush. But, no, I’m not lying.”

“Oh, I’m scary?” He finds your hand at his side, threading your fingers together. Warmth crawls up your spine at the gesture. “Is that why you’re so enraptured by a dimple? It balances out my scary, ugly face?” You narrow your eyes at him in response to his comment.

“I know you’re mostly joking but call yourself ugly again and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

“Now who’s the scary one here, huh?” Din shifts onto his back again, pulling away from you slightly and resting the hand not holding yours behind his head. He didn’t follow up with another witty remark, leaving the two of you in silence. He stared up at the ceiling of the small cubby the cot was in, seeming to be suddenly lost in thought. You watched his face for a moment, clearly something was now bothering him.

“Alright, come on, shiny.” you began to scoot out of the cot, tugging him up with your intertwined hands. He followed silently, trudging behind you and clearly annoyed about already having to leave bed.

You pulled him into the refresher, standing behind him while facing the tiny, shitty mirror you knew Din only used to shave or when he used to give himself haircuts.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Your handsome face, dumbass,” you scoffed. Endearingly, of course. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mando. You’re hot. Accept it.”

“I’ll never understand why you think that.” He huffed, crossing his arms and turning around to look at you. “Can we go back to bed?”

“No.” You replied firmly, copying his position. You both stared at each other for a moment before a grin started to make its way across his features. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me. You start pouting.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, leaning forward to kiss the crown of your head. You quickly lost the resolve to pretend to be mad at him, turning him back around and peeking over his shoulder to touch his face and show him the discovery you made in bed.

“See? You have a dimple, baby.” He met your eyes in the mirror, smile still going strong. “It only shows up when you smile, which means I haven’t been making you smile enough if I just noticed it.” Din turned again to bring you into his arms.

“You make me smile more than enough, mesh’la. So hard my cheeks hurt. You just can’t see it sometimes.” His voice had grown soft, before he stifled a laugh. “Like the other day when you tripped up the Crest’s ramp—”

“Din!"

“Come on, it was funny.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fluff #drabble #my fics

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parvuls · 4 years

Note

19/54 :)

19 - summer camp / 54 - secret relationship

now. the first thing that came to mind is camp sweetgum. so i’m gonna leave this here in case it strikes your fancy and also because it’s great.

but i’m a sucker for extensive worldbuilding, so let’s settle in for the long haul, kay? this is 1.7k of plot outlining. you can see why it takes me four months to write fics.

eric bittle. age 15. moved to madison for high school, quit figure skating, joined a no contact hockey team. coach is happier but not happy, so he suggests an idea: hockey summer camp. yes contact. it’s in minnesota (coach’s not thrilled about the yankees, but there are no hockey camps anywhere south; he checked), and it’ll give junior an opportunity to meet some kids with similar interests. athletic interests, that is. and there’s still a lake and extracurricular activities, “so it’s just like the camp up by lake oconee, y’know? where the kids braid friendship bracelets and whatnot. except with sports.”

eric is... less enthused. but it’s not actually a suggestion so much as a decision and coach just moved across the state for him because he managed to get himself stuck in a closet overnight (eric’s mindset, at this age, is perhaps not the most healthy), so he says yes.

jack zimmermann. age 20. assistant coached a peewee team for the year and is not ready to spend a third summer in his parents’ house in montréal when all his former teammates from the q are returning home during off-season. his boss tells him about this summer camp in minnesota that’s looking for experienced counselors -- “it’s not a prospect camp, mostly for fun, so the boys there aren’t headed for the league. you should go. talk to some kids above the age of ten.”

jack’s pretty okay with never talking to anyone over ten again, but he’s got no other options and bob starts mentioning going to bonding fishing trips just the two of them, so he send an application.

um. he’s jack zimmermann. he was supposed to go first in the draft. the guy in charge of hiring for the summer probably rubbed his eyes in shock when he saw the email and headed straight to bed because he thought he was delusional from lack of sleep. jack gets the job.

so, like. listen. samwell men’s hockey team? they’re not your usual hockey playing dude bros. eric gets to camp that july and he’s still all long dancer’s muscles from regionals and even lighter weight from usual because he was on a strict diet and he’s got a southern accent and narrow shoulders and he doesn’t like when you slap him on the back. he’s not a hit with the local boys. but you know who does like him immediately? adam birkholtz, who’s off the ushl for the summer and wanted to play some fun hockey and get paid doing it. is it legal? who fucking cares, man.

does eric like adam? uhh. adam is 6′4 and touchy feely and eric’s got undiagnosed ptsd, so. no. but it works out after a while, because adam is relentless and also cannot stand most of the other counselors, and this tiny kid is great.

you can see how it goes: jack does not. get. bittle. it should be mentioned that jack also does not get adam, and adam does not especially like jack, so they stay out of each other’s way, but bittle is in jack’s morning slot. he skates like he was born doing it but every time one of the other players so much as looks in his direction he freezes like a deer. now, this isn’t the ncaa, jack’s got nothing to lose if this kid sucks in hockey, but he also doesn’t make friends and he’s got nothing to do with his day except read (he reads. a lot). and he likes challenges. so he starts paying attention.

the first time he asks eric to stay after morning slot’s over, eric looks so terrified jack’s usual awkward conversation skills reduce him to single-word grunting. but he gets the point across: they’re gonna practice yes-contact. for reasons. eric’s all like, “oh -- oh, no, it’s okay! i’m in a no contact co-ed team, it’s fine, this is a summer thing, really, sir, no need --” and jack’s like, did this kid just call me sir, i am twenty, but is also too awkward to take it back. he’s invested now. they’re gonna practice.

and practice they do. it goes badly before it even remotely starts getting better. eric looks like he’s gonna start crying every time and jack does. not. get him (!!!) but eventually adam finds out and talks to eric about it and encourages him (very, very gently, god, this kid is the shit but he’s definitely got some issues 19-years-old-adam is not equipped to handle) to give it a shot.

and then it does get better. jack likes having a purpose, guiding someone through an improvement process (jack’s therapist, wisely, does not tell him that this is the best thing he could’ve done for himself, because jack is... not there yet). eric (very, very slowly, god, he also should start seeing a therapist) stops fearing every jock who gets near him with the combined effort of adam’s incessant friendly advances and jack’s daily practices, and can even take some checks. gentle ones. but it’s something.

and then summer’s over. eric and adam trade numbers. eric and jack… do not, but jack probably says something like, “eat more protein, bittle,” and eric’s not even that offended, so it’s fine.

guess what? he goes back the next summer. coach is over the moon (he expresses this in a twist of the mustache and a firm shoulder clap). adam is also back, talks a lot about quitting the ushl after his next season and maybe going to college somewhere. jack is back because… uh, well, no one’s really sure why jack is back. he’s going to samwell in early august, right after camp ends. jack tells himself he’s easing himself back into hockey in a low-pressure environment and totally isn’t looking forward to seeing what a year has done to eric bittle.

which is, physically speaking, not a lot, honestly. eric’s firmer now, a lot more thigh and bicep muscles, but still narrow. it’s not collegiate hockey, it’s a high school team, alright? gosh. but he’s less jumpy and smiles at jack when their eyes meet and he’s babbling with adam a lot more than he did last year (they texted all year long, and it was nice having a friend, even if it was long distance), so it’s cool. jack makes him do morning practices again and he flinches less and less. they’re like. friends. maybe. jack hasn’t had any friends in three years and the last one was parse, so he’s a little rusty. it’s not a very traditional friendship.

they part ways again in august, and eric wishes jack good luck in school. jack sticks his hands in his pockets to avoid fiddling with his hat and has no idea how one says goodbye, and like, he’s not gonna keep in touch with this sixteen year old kid in his freshman year of college, okay? so. so. but he’s gonna like -- uh -- miss him. maybe. sorta. don’t tell anyone.

eric hugs him goodbye. jack doesn’t even take both hands out of his pockets to hug back, he’s so shocked.

the year after that, none of them come back. jack’s in college, he just got the c. adam’s getting ready for his freshman year. eric’s over the age limit for camp. it just doesn’t happen.

but the year after that, he gets a hockey scholarship for samwell. and it’s yes contact. and he hasn’t been checked in two years, and last time it was in a controlled environment near a minnesota lake, and he’s scared. and the guy from camp (the one who woke up that morning two years before and realized jack zimmermann indeed wanted to work at their camp) offers him a summer job, counseling skating lessons. and he says yes. for money, and to be ready for a season of real hockey.

also that year, jack’s had a bad season. parse won the cup, and smh didn’t even make it to the frozen four, and he feels shitty about everything. and coaching always made him feel better. so he goes back to camp, for one summer.

let’s set the scene: eric. age 18. taller, stronger, determined. in need of a haircut, but in possession of very short shorts. is headed to a liberal school and finally knows he’s gay and refuses to care about what the other boys think (camp has done wonders for his early mindset development; canon bitty, probably, was not as confident at this point). he’s a counselor now, fellas!

jack. age 23. not taller, yes stronger, has been friends with shitty knight for a year and knows a little more about human interaction (truly a little, but still). is looking to relax for the summer before kicking ass next season (and attracting scouts and joining the nhl and winning three cups before 30 and proving everyone wrong, but. first, relaxing and playing some hockey. jack zimmermann’s version of relaxing is different than other people’s).

they’re sharing a cabin in the counselors area. there are two beds, obviously, this is not that trope, and it’s not even bunk beds, but: they were cabinmates. oh my god, they were cabinmates.

the plot, obviously, follows as one would expect. eric is definitely not a kid anymore, is all tanned skin and strong calves and short shorts, and jack is only human. jack is all firm chest and pale eyes and hideous yellow shoes, and eric is disgusted, but is also only human. and jack is on summer break, and eric is not out yet, and so when they drink some beers one night and make bad attempts at actually braiding some friendship bracelets and jack’s tongue pokes out in concentration and eric bursts out laughing, jack has to kiss him. right? right. It’s not like eric would tell anyone. see closeted reasoning above.

what’s the catch? oh, no, they don’t get caught. they share a cabin! everything’s going swell. it’s just -- jack came there to avoid thinking about his bad season. eric came there to avoid thinking about his upcoming year of collegiate hockey. so… neither of them mentions… captaining the samwell hockey team. or. heading for the samwell hockey team. they talk about literally everything else (country music; undeveloped political opinions; daddy issues; the tv show arthur; american vs. canadian thanksgiving; one very late night conversation about homophobia in pro sports), but not about college. so neither of them knows.

oops?

#omgcp #zimbits #zimbits fic #omg check please #i like. legit don't know how to tag things apparently #NEVER LET ME WRITE FIC HEADCANONS i get wayyyy too invested #jack x bitty #check please!#pavfics

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