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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.

“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”

“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”

He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”

Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin nods. “I know, I know.”

But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.

He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.

Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.

“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.

Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”

“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”

Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”

“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”

“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.

And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”

And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.

For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?

Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.

“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.

Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”

She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.

“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”

And it’s only partly a joke.

“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.

When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.

“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”

Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.

She starts walking.

Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.

He drives back alone.

When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.

And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.

And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”

And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.

She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.

He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.

She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!

And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.

But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.

Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!

“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”

“Not even a guess?” Steve says.

“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.

Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”

Steve’s over in a flash.

“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”

“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”

She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.

And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.

Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.

Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.

#steve and robin #steve and robin fic #steve and robin ficlet #robin buckley fic #steve harrington fic #eddie and robin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #background steddie

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 6 months

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Run Free

art by me!

Price, Gaz, and Ghost visits the MacTavish Estate baring the news.

Word Count: 2.1k words Warning: Major character death, angst and comfort. Note : I wrote this fic a few days after I finished the campaign. I've always thought it weird why the 141 boys had Soap's ashes when I've always seen Soap as someone with a family and a had good relationship with them, especially since it's canon that Soap's cousin brought him to the SAS base several times as a kid. Here's my interpretation of that fact, on how Soap's urn ended up with the boys.

Price, Gaz, and Ghost wore their dress uniforms from head to toe, finding themselves in front of the MacTavish Estate in Glasgow. It was… big, to say the least. Soap’s family was known not only because a number of people from the family are serving in the British Royal Armed Forces, but also the fact that they are 7th generation furniture company - MacTavish Furnitures. Lots of members of the family are veterans turned businessmen, carpenters, or woodworkers. It is a common cycle of life for them.

As Ghost and Gaz stood, Price climbed the stairs and wore his beige beret, breathing deeply through his nose before letting the air out to prepare himself, lifting his hand to knock on the wooden door. The captain heard faint noises of multiple footsteps from multiple people and some voices of heavy Scottish accent from inside the house. He waited for a moment, until the door finally opened, but he found no one in front of him.

“Who are ya?”

A little voice spoke from under him, prompting Price to look down. He found a little girl with blonde hair no taller than his knees. She’s absolutely drenched from head to toe in a blue swimming attire and had to bend her neck so high to see him. He bent down to his knees to match her height, before saying,

“Hello. I’m… My name is John.”

“John? Like Uncle Johnny?” Her little voice said, face gleaming with happiness at the name.

“Yes. Like Uncle Johnny.” Price smiled, chuckling lightly. The girl grinned at his smiling face. “May I see your dad? Or mum?”

“Phoebe MacTavish! Get your wee feet here before I pick your legs off of that floo–! Oh, Hello there.” A new voice came from in front of him, revealing herself to be an old woman with dark brown hair, though with white strands and the same quizzical brow that reminded Price of Soap. She looked strong, nonetheless, wearing a green shirt and knitted vest with a towel hanging from one of her shoulders, obviously to dry the little girl after a session of swimming in their estate’s pool.

Price stood back up, greeting the lady. “Mrs. MacTavish.”

The old woman looked at his attire up and down, and Price swore that he saw the gears rotating inside her mind. She looked down at the girl and gave her the white towel, “Phoebe. Go inside and dry yourself. Find your Da, Aunt Rachel, and Uncle Hugh, too. Tell them to meet me at the front door, yeah?” The little girl nodded and ran inside, disappearing into the house as Price heard a faint yelling from the same child, calling for the stated family members.

Now, the lady in front of him walked closer to the doorway, face to face with him. She’s undoubtedly no taller than 5’7”, a height that might have been receding as time went by, but you could spot a proud MacTavish wherever you see one. Price offered his hand for a handshake as she accepted. “Captain John Price from the 22 SAS Regiment.”

“Joan MacTavish.” She replied. Price noticed the name as the name on Soap’s file as his guardian, with the relation being marked with ‘Aunt’. “What brings you here, Captain?” Her face looked neutral like it wasn’t the first time a soldier with a full dress uniform knocked on this wooden door.

Just before Price could say what he wanted to say, a deep voice called to her. “Mum?” One woman and two men with a frame similar to him showed up from inside the house. One man was around Ghost’s age, one was around his age, while the woman in a bun looked older than him, though looking very vibrant and professional. All of them had the same thick eyebrows – Family traits, he supposed – and clearly looked like honourable but firm Scottish people. Upon seeing Price, though, their faces changed from confusion to realization.

Price remembered that Soap was not the first MacTavish in the SAS. In fact, there was another member of the family, Oliver MacTavish, who died in the line of duty a decade ago. Price remembered the way Soap had told the story of Ollie, his cousin, bringing his little arse to the SAS base - however unpermitted it was – and how Price had busted Soap multiple times for applying with a fake age.

“Rachel MacTavish.” The eldest one spoke.

“Hugh MacTavish.” The elder man said, followed by the younger.

“Scott MacTavish. That was my daughter, Phobe.” They all shook hands with Price.

He repeated his greeting, before Rachel started,

“I've seen the likes of you before. I recognize that beret even from a mile away." She said firmly. "Out with it."

The captain's breath hitched as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to deliver the news. And so, he began.

"On November 21st, our target had placed an active bomb inside the underwater tunnel that connects the UK and France. During our attempt to defuse the bomb, the target sneaked from behind our line of sight…"

The whole family's face changed, Joan's eyes looked glassy with tears seeming like she knew of the incoming words.

"And I regret to inform you… that Sergeant John MacTavish has died in the line of duty."

Ghost, without his mask and black face paint around his eyes, and Gaz with their dress uniforms and beret could only stand from the base of the stairs, watching and hearing as Joan's cry of anguish tear through the morning sky.

"Oh Lord. Johnny. Johnny. My baby, Johnny." Joan repeated his name like a chanting to the sky. "Why must You take him so soon? Why must he join Ollie so soon?"

The whole family hugged their mother as she wailed, her knees looked like it was giving up. Gaz gritted his teeth to strengthen himself, not wanting to break down to cry himself.

As the family cried, Price could only stand still, letting the news sink in for the family. His job as the leader of the team was done, at that point. He delivered the news to his family.

"The bomb…Did he defuse it?" Hugh questioned in the middle of his sobs.

"He–" Price swallowed, remembering the way Makarov had killed him. "We were both defusing the bomb, John guiding me along the way as he was the demolition expert."

"He protected me, Sir. Our target was about to shoot me, before John stopped him - and got killed instead. The target ran away, but me and Sergeant Garrick managed to defuse the bomb thanks to his prior guidance, saving thousands of lives underneath the 30-mile underwater tunnel." Price answered as Rachel looked up at his face, anger and denial filling her in an instant.

She raised her hand in such a way that Price knew that she was about to slap him. Price still opened his eyes, fully welcoming the slap before her hand stopped.

Rachel bit her lips so hard that it might bleed, lowering her arm.

"...Why does it have to be Johnny? Why do you get to live and he doesn't?" She barely whispered in a shaky voice, going back to wiping her face again. “Why Johnny…?”

And Price asked that question every single hour ever since his death.

Why Soap, and not him?

—

The MacTavishes requested for Soap's body to be sent to Scotland, where they held a memorial at the MacTavish estate to which they promptly honoured. The number of family members participating was not that many, considering only the immediate family attended. Price, Soap, and Ghost joined them, and even escorted the family as they travelled to the crematorium.

After the whole procession finished – that took the entire day – the family finally had possession of the urn containing Soap's ashes, and they invited the three back to the estate, where they now sit inside the guest room and tea in front of them with Joan and Rachel, his urn placed on a table beside Joan.

That was the day they learned that Soap was actually the son of Joan's late husband's younger sister. Soap's mother – her sister-in-law, died when she birthed Soap, while Soap's father died during an accident in a factory before his own birth.

Soap had been raised by his uncle's family since his infancy, growing up in the MacTavish house as a strong and firm Scott under the wing of the eldest brother, Oliver.

"He's always wanted to be like Ollie, that wee kid," Rachel told them after holding a photo album containing photos of Soap when he was a baby in his late uncle's arms, a photo of him and his older cousins playing with mud, photos of his graduations from school, and photos of him passing the test to be a part of SAS along with his cousin, Oliver. "Said he didn't want to go to school. Just visit the army base every day. It's what he dreamed of."

Ghost, still in his dress uniform, felt the most vulnerable in that room - Without his mask, in front of Johnny's family. He also had been in agony for the past day, because he'd failed to cover Johnny's back. He had one job at that time, and he failed, catastrophically. He only sat there with his hands joined in his lap, not daring to look at the family in the eyes.

"We're very thankful for John's service with us. He was the best there is." Gaz spoke, "John's memory will live with us."

"Thank you, Sergeant Garrick." Joan smiled as she looked up. "I heard you share the same quarters with him in the barracks. I hope he wasn't too much of a naughty boy."

The sergeant chuckled lightly at that, "Well. Soap wasn't someone who could stay away from mischief too long, but I assure you that he's an absolute joy and inspiration to be around." Hearing Joan's laughter cured a little part in Gaz, as the only thing he'd heard from her was the sound of her cry. He could at least pride himself in knowing that he could share Soap's merry nature.

As they share memories, Price finished his tea before he stood up from the sofa, followed by the other two. "Well. We must take our leave, Ma'am. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime." Joan spoke as the soldiers started to leave the sofa, heading towards the main room and front door.

"Which one of ya’s is ‘LT’?"

Rachel’s voice stopped the men in their tracks, particularly Ghost’s. All three men turned around, finding the woman holding Soap’s urn in her hands. Price saw how Ghost's face turned to that of a deer in a spotlight, so he put his hand behind Ghost’s back to lightly push him towards Rachel, but Ghost’s hesitancy was apparent in the way he slowly walked.

“...That would be me, Ma’am.” Ghost’s deep voice rumbled softly as he looked down to Rachel’s height. The lady herself observed him up and down with a negative face that she could convince him that he was standing there naked.

“Yer tryin’ so hard to make yourself look small for such a big man. It’s almost dreading.” She started, her hips shifting. “I’ve been the CEO of MacTavish Furnitures since my da’ passed away and Ollie decided to go to the army, and I read people like a book. For someone whom Johnny admired the most – and repeatedly spoke about – you don’t look like the LT I heard from him.” Ghost was starstruck at the statement. Soap, talking about him to his family? “I expected you to be cocky and exude pride in your steps, but all I’m seein’ is just a pathetic, sad bloke.”

Ghost stood still at those comments. No one practically had ever roasted him this badly in front of his teammates. He wondered if he showed up in his other attire, she’d dare to say all this. But then again, if someone got to do it, he was glad that it came from an honourable woman of the MacTavish bloodline.

What caught him off guard was her hands stretching towards him, holding Soap’s urn in front of his chest. Ghost looked down at the metal container, looking confused as he looked up again to face Rachel. He thought the MacTavishes were going to hold on to Soap’s urn, and they get to keep Soap’s dog tags. However, clearly, the current head of the family had other wishes.

“Take Johnny with ya. Being trapped inside this urn for eternity in this old house would be the last thing he wanted.” The woman started with a shaky voice, her eyes starting to brim with tears again. Seeing Soap’s character, Ghost could understand that completely.

“He’s… the proudest he could ever be when he’s with ya’s." Rachel continued.

"So I ask you, as our brother’s comrades, to hold on to Johnny – and free him.”

Ghost’s eyes opened wide in surprise, still couldn’t fathom how fondly Soap must've talked about his teammates, especially him, to his family that they’d give him his ashes. Ghost lifted his hands to carefully receive the urn.

After breathing deeply, Ghost stood straight, holding Soap firmly.

“We will, Ma’am.”

—

The three of them walked towards the car parked just outside the MacTavish estate with Ghost holding Soap’s urn in his hands. They all took off their berets and entered the car, Price the designated driver, Gaz riding shotgun, while Ghost sat in the backseat.

“So what do we do with him, Sir?” Gaz rotated his body to look at Soap’s urn on Ghost’s hands, same as Price.

Ghost contemplated in his mind, staring at the metal urn, before speaking, “Where’s Johnny’s place of birth?”

Price answered immediately as he’s the one who took care of Soap’s documents. “Isle of Skye.”

“Soap said there’s a beautiful cliff where he and his cousins used to go to play. Endless sea where the eyes could see.” Gaz added.

“Then that’s where we’re goin’.” Ghost spoke with finality. “And then we’ll let Johnny go.”

Price and Gaz nodded to each other. "Alright, Soap. Let's get you home." The captain started the car and stepped on the gas, beginning their journey towards the Isle of Skye.

---

I'm not okay. Thank you for reading! (T_T) reblogs and comments of your thoughts are much appreciated!

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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Hi! Xavier has been living in my head rent free since I watched the show. Could you do a jealous boyfriend Xavier x reader?

I went with a light jealous boyfriend!Xavier

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

Despite the November drizzle, you and Xavier spent the day in Jericho. It was cold and foggy, but you really wanted to check out the new bookstore that just opened and Xavier needed restocks of some paints.

Your beret wasn’t doing much at protecting you from the rain, but you wore it mostly for the look rather than its practicality. You and Enid got matching ones the last time you went shopping. She tried to convince Wednesday to get one too, but she explicitly explain how sticking a needle in her eyes would be less painful than wearing a beret.

‘’Next time we come here, we’re gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry all your books,’’ Xavier teased as you took a corner, taking you back to the main street.

Your arm was looped around his, giving you an excuse to cuddle up to him as you walked. Xavier wasn’t big on PDA, but he liked walking around Jericho in this old fashioned way. It was a subtle way of letting everyone know you were taken.

‘’If the school had a better selection of novels, I would not need to buy all these books,’’ you retorted in justification, holding your shopping bag full of new books in your other hand. ‘’Besides, I didn't get all the books I was hoping for.’’

‘’You got four books. That’s a lot.’’

You once got ten books in one trip, but Xavier didn’t need to know that. It would just give him more material to make fun of you and your love for books and reading.

‘’One of them is a birthday present. I think Wednesday will love the collector copy of Salem's lot I found. I was not expecting a small business to have it.’’

Xavier wasn’t a bookworm, but he figured a collector edition was very nice. A sort of special artwork in the literary world.

‘’Small isn’t always bad.’’ He looked down at you as he said it.

You stopped in your tracks and tipped your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘’Are you calling me small?’’

‘’I’m a full head taller than you so…’’ A cheeky smile curled on Xavier’s lips.

‘’I hate you.’’ You glared at him, but he wrapped his arms around you, his embrace enveloping you in an extra layer of warmth. Why was November so cold? ‘’Can we stop to get coffee before we head back to the academy? I’m cold and craving a caramel macchiato.’’

Disgust formed on your boyfriend’s face, a strong hater of the overly sweet drink you loved so much.

You ended up stopping at Weathervane for your coffee. Unfortunately, Tyler was working today so Xavier stayed back and waited outside while you went in. The less interactions he had with him, the better.

Although he didn’t go in, he didn’t miss how Tyler talked to you for longer than the other customers or the way he was smiling as you were leaving with your drink.

‘’Tyler is not preying on me,’’ you denied after Xavier made the accusation. It was honestly ridiculous. ‘’We’ve spoken three times and two times out of three it was about ordering coffee. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’’

‘’What about the third time?’’

You took a sip of your coffee before answering, playing with his jealousy buttons. ‘’He asked if I had seen Wednesday.’’

He’ll let that one slide, but he was still not changing his mind on Tyler.

‘’Why do you jump to conclusions every time a guy interacts with me?’’ you asked. You loved that Xavier was protective of you, but jealousy was not something you found attractive.

Xavier shrugged, genuinely not knowing. ‘’I don’t know. Call it instinct.’’

His answer had you thinking. Perhaps his jealousy was to camouflage his insecurities? Perhaps Xavier was not as confident as he made himself appear, especially regarding you and your relationship. Perhaps he was scared you would leave him for someone else.

Your heart sank and you grabbed his hand, tangling your fingers together. He glanced down at your hands, but said nothing. ‘’I don't care about Tyler or whichever other boy that looks at me, I only have eyes for you.’’ You reached on your tiptoes to kiss him and when you pulled back, the corner of his lips twitched.

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

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queercanon13 · 1 year

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The Karma music video is packed with queer and sapphic themes. But what’s with that yellow beret?

We all watched the Karma music video on Friday (or Saturday), right? And then we all watched it ten more times because there IS JUST SO MUCH THERE. Right?!

I can’t even begin to unpack the whole thing yet, but let’s talk about the yellow brick road scene.

Taylor is obviously wearing ruby slippers (“the rubies that I gave up”) alluding to Dorothy/the Wizard of Oz. But she’s not wearing the rest of Dorothy’s getup. That’s because she’s not Dorothy, but in fact a friend of Dorothy.

She’s holding a broom (lots of witchy themes from her lately) and blows a kiss of blue (iykyk) glitter to three grim reapers (the two SBs and…?).

She’s keeping her side of the street clean, which harkens to the YNTCD MV where she clearly shows which side of the street she’s on:

Other things of note: it appears there are daisies embroidered on her collar, as well as growing along the yellow brick road. Her braids are also looped (“your braids make a pattern”).

The yellow brick road itself may be a nod to Elton John and his album/song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Here are some of the lyrics from that song, as well as a generally accepted analysis of the lyrics:

Seems like it would be super relatable to Taylor, right? Add in Elton John’s queerness/coming out journey, and the parallels continue.

There are probably a hundred other things I’m missing just from that scene alone, but what I really wanna talk about is the yellow beret, especially in light of current news surrounding Taylor.

When I saw the yellow beret, I furiously googled “yellow beret” + the names of Taylor’s muses, but I came up empty-handed. Because Taylor is specifically not wearing a Dorothy costume, I knew that fucking hat had to mean something. Then I remembered — isn’t yellow beret a military term? And we know she loves a good war story. To Google I went, and the results did not disappoint.

During the Vietnam war, all physicians in the US had a mandatory draft order. One of the ways to avoid the draft was to apply for a position with a Public Health Service program called the NIH Associates Training Program. Because the elite program was highly competitive, only a small percentage of doctors were able to serve their required military time without going to war.

Yellow beret was a self-deprecating and derogatory term used by and for doctors who avoided getting a green beret/going to war (yellow can be associated with cowardice, i.e. “yellow-bellied”) via the NIH program.

Sounding familiar? But wait there’s more.

Bob Seger wrote a song in 1966 called The Ballad of the Yellow Beret. It was written as a parody of the song The Ballad of the Green Berets. Here are some of the lyrics (I encourage you to read all of them!):

Verse 1: Fearless cowards of the USA // Bravely here at home they stay // They watch their friends get shipped away // The draft dodgers of the Yellow Beret

Okay, I’m seated.

Verse 3: Men who faint at the sight of blood // Their high-heeled boots weren't meant for mud // The draft board will hear their sob stories today // Only the best win the yellow beret

Oooookay.

Verse 4: Back at home a young wife waits // Her yellow beret has met his fate // He's been drafted for marching in a protest //Leaving her his last request

Are you screaming yet? Just wait.

Verse 5: Put a yellow streak down my son's back // Make sure that he never ever fights back // At his physical have him say he's gay // Have him win the yellow beret

And if that wasn’t enough, two of the last lyrics are “I've got a pimple on my trigger finger” (ew) and “well, we were planning on having children sometime soon” (devastating). These themes also align with The Great War, epiphany, etc.

But despite attempts to diminish their efforts through claims of cowardice, these “yellow beret” physician-scientists contributed to some of the most important and innovative medical research we have today. Dr. Fauci attended the training program, as well as nine others who went on to win Nobel Prizes.

Could it be that Taylor is trying to tell us that, while it looks like she dodged the draft (didn’t come out), she’s doing some important mastermind shit behind the scenes? Only time will tell, but since we are now at “dawn,” I believe daylight is soon to follow. ☀️

#gaylor #taylor swift #the eras tour #karma mv #karma taylor swift #karma is a cat #karma ft ice spice #karma remix #gaylor swift #swiftgron #kaylor

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gold-rhine · 3 months

Text

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible.

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine.

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame.

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters.

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether.

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block.

Wriothesley made the arrangements.

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner.

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head.

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.”

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded.

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world.

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid.

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs.

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position.

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance.

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather.

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting.

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding.

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words.

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head.

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued.

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink.

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate.

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity. Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this.

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses.

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.”

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.”

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned.

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully.

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out.

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.”

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens.

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long.

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

#rhine writes #rhine writes light #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriolette #genshin impact #enjou #i had a lot of fun with enjou here #anyway let me know what you guys think

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nyctophiliq · 1 year

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☆ ➣ LUNCHBREAK DESSERT. jill valentine

— “i’m addicted and i’m never coming down.”

synopsis — requested by anonymous content warnings — female bodied reader, the reader wears a skirt, nsfw content, fingering, cunnilingus, office sex, semi-public sex, the door is locked, kissing, grinding

“THE DOOR IS LOCKED, BLINDS ARE CLOSED…”

it was hard to go around and pretend she didn’t look hot in her uniform, the blue shirt tucked into her office-issued dark blue cargo pants with the beret on top of her head, waltzing around the halls like she owned the place. it was so fucking attractive, even if she was only just existing and trying to get from one office to another one. it wasn’t fair. it made your heart race a little harder. it also didn’t help that she knew damn well she looked good in that outfit.

"stop playin' please..." you sigh as jill's hand slides down your thigh, her nails scratching lightly at the spot below where your skirt is lifted a bit. you groaned as you wrapped your arms around her neck and deepened the kiss. it felt so fucking amazing, the warmth of her skin was almost suffocating. she tasted like chocolate and coffee and everything you thought heaven would taste like and honestly, you needed this more than you needed air.

jill laughed at your needy acts, clawing at the nape of her neck and subtly rolling your hips into hers, trying to close the gap between your core and her thigh that was wedged between your legs. you whimpered against her mouth when her fingers started to work their way underneath your skirt to find the slick patch of wetness between your thighs. "fuck," you whispered, "in a minute, m'yeah?" she chuckled, pulling back slightly to grin up at you.

"gonna treat this pussy real good." she purred, leaning forward to kiss you again and pushing a single finger between your clothed folds. you let out an embarrassing whine when she prods at your clit, just barely rubbing it as she teased and played with the wet patch of your panties. you pulled away suddenly, looking her dead in the eyes. "jill, wait. i -"

"you wanna come on my tongue?" you nodded frantically, your heart beating wildly and you were pretty sure you were going to pass out. she smirked before reaching behind her and getting her chair to sit on, spreading your legs with both of her hands further open to reveal all your glistening glory between your thighs.

jill grinned widely and leaned forward to lick your clothed clit, teasing you as her arms came around your waist pulling you to the edge of the desk. you gasped, gripping her hair tightly while grinding your hips into her face. "oh god jill, fuck," you panted, feeling yourself growing wetter and weaker with every stroke. your knees wobbled as you sat heavily on the table, your whole body trembling. your mind was fogging up, trying to figure out how you were meant to function without cumming, but you couldn't think straight.

"so wet for me, hm? barely touched you, baby, haven't even got a real taste of you." she murmured against your glistening cunt hiding behind the wet panties, sending small vibrations through your body as she talked, humming almost after every word.

"just p-please, jill, fuck me please..." you whined your fingers clawing into her scalp, bunching her hair up with trembling digits and weakly pulling on them. jill nodded as she looked up at you through her lashes, her teeth hooking into your panties and pulling them to the side. she took you in easily, licking at your sensitive bud while she sucked your clit before taking it into her mouth and playing with it gently. your hips jerked against her mouth, moaning loudly as the sensation built slowly inside you.

you cried out, hand coming up to clamp over your mouth and muffle the next set of moans as jill dipped inside your entrance before her tongue pressed flat against your clit, grinding. you gripped her hair tighter as she licked you harder and faster before finally popping your clit and letting her tongue flick against the bundle of nerves, leaving you shuddering helplessly against the desk. you didn't even notice one of her hands loosening on your waist until you felt two cold fingers and her hot tongue play with your hole.

oh, fuck. she slid her tongue inside of you, making you gasp loudly as she pumped herself, sliding in and out of you in perfect timing, hitting every nerve you had until you were begging to come. jill hummed again, pumping herself faster as her thumb moved up to circle your clit, keeping your orgasm building. you clutched her hair tight, gasping for breath and crying out in pleasure, your body shaking with the effort of not cumming yet.

"jill! oh gosh, i'm gonna -" your words were cut off by your sudden release as you came undone beneath her tongue. you could feel her smirk against you as your vision filled with white spots for a few seconds. she removed her mouth from you but not before giving a last few suck to your clit, pulling her fingers free from the comfortable confines of your thighs and sitting back against the chair.

"good girl," she murmured, her voice low with her ragged breath, licking the sticky mess from her lips. "i was dying for something sweet all day."

AUTHOR'S NOTE ! the hardest part about writing this fic was is coming up with a title, that’s why this one took so long, i had no idea what i was gonna title it until well, yesterday when i finished the other request BAHAHA, hope you like it dear anonie ♥️

#📗 — written by moss !#resident evil jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x reader smut #resident evil jill x reader smut #resident evil jill x reader #jill valentine x reader #resident evil x reader smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil 3 x reader #resident evil smut #re smut #re x reader #re x reader smut #re3 smut #resident evil 3 smut #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x female reader #jill valentine x female reader smut #jill valentine x you

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sashimiyas · 7 months

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cw: there’s a wedding. it’s aran’s. you’re a bridesmaid entertaining the idea of getting married. and to suna of all people

“I’m gonna throw up.”

The man beside you laughs, genial and kind.

“Yum.”

His response elicits a downturn of your lips and you tilt you body to fully face him. As if instinctively, his elbow hooks tighter where your hand is placed. It tightens even further when he sees proof of your misery across your expression. Though you falter, he does not, the tilted smirk of his so golden that even the perfect sunset scenery would most likely be jealous of it.

“Oh, you’re serious.”

You pull down on your dress. The next set of bridesmaid and groomsman begin walking forward. “Of course I’m serious.”

“That’s what the dress rehearsal was for.”

Dress rehearsal had consisted of you meeting one of your best friend’s husband’s best friends and creating a pact that he’ll fall first before you do. Aran actually has a large arsenal of good looking friends, blessed with handsome looks himself. But Suna, he’s… different.

Suna’s confidence eases you and your addled mind decides to let him know regardless of it being a thoughtless comment.

“Thank you.”

His smile forces your embarrassment to falter. You feel important under his eye, that rather the bride and groom be the people of the day, it’s you. It’s your needs, your comforts, before anyone else’s.

He may be your partner only for the day, but you take the offer anyways.

“But—”

“No buts,” he cuts you off. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Anything, could actually happen. A bird could fly down as you walk down the aisle and grab any one of the sparkling berets that bedazzle your hair. Your heels could get stuck in a crack. You could trip and—

“The officiant mistakes us for the bride and groom and we’re the ones that accidentally get married?”

Your voice cracks in your throat out of shock. Suna’s words shouldn’t affect you so, but for some stupid, ridiculous, absolutely insane reason, the idea is appealing. There’s no sense to the notion. Suna is a stranger!

But—

It’s your turn to begin walking. There’s no room to think. No buts.

There’s cameras pointed at you that you’re diligently aware of. Suna’s dismissive. He does not hesitate under their focus, though why would he? Talented and good looking as he.

You, on the other hand, duck your head to avoid everyone’s eye. Suddenly your dress feels heavy and your brain is now acutely aware of how much these shoes actually make your feet hurt.

As if sensing your discomfort, Suna discretely tucks you closer to his side, pulling you in with his elbow.

He leans his head down a bit. You can feel the singular stray strand of hair tickle across your forehead, softer than the bouquet you hold in your hands.

“Told you you wouldn’t fall. You’re doing amazing.” His whisper is lush.

Your heart beats frantically though maybe nervousness no longer has anything to do with it.

If last night was dress rehearsal, why does this day still feel like practice?

“There’s still a long way to go,” you say as you count the number of rows you still have to pass to the altar.

Suna takes two more steps before he responds with a hum, “Atsumu fell on live television once. If you fall, I’ll play the footage during my speech and everyone’ll forget about it.”

Suddenly, you’re laughing. The anecdote is ridiculous, but to hear the ends he’d go through simply to make you happy, your body cannot contain its joy. When you look up at him, he’s already smiling down at you.

“Atsumu fell on TV? How did that happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Suna dismisses as the two of you finally reach the altar. His elbow loosens so that you may remove your hand but as you do, his arm stretches out to catch a final glimpse of your touch before you go your separate ways.

“I’ll tell you later when we have all the time in the world.”

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#snkskwnndkebjf #and what if i said this was based on real life #well just one line of it #still on my wedding shit #pspspsps spoiler: suna did Fall First

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bugaboo25 · 9 months

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I Will Forever Love You Chapter 2

Okay, I'm gonna do it! There's more info on the masterpost about how this is gonna look, but I am gonna post the rest of this! Just bear with me if there's a lot of time between updates!

Masterpost Prev Next

Anways, onto chapter 2:

Danny groaned as he flung himself onto the table. Which, ew, the Nasty Burger employees obviously hadn’t taken the time to wipe down the table in days, as was told by the way his hoodie was sticking to a dark stain that sat next to him. He could feel Tucker shifting next to him, obviously wanting to ask, but Danny wanted to wallow in his own self pity for just a few more moments, thank you very much. Alas, he was promptly pulled away from his thoughts as Tucker nudged his side with his elbow. Danny turned his head, allowing his eyes to scan over Tucker quickly and efficiently. He was taller now, taller than Danny’s own 5’9”, and his beret had been discarded for a beanie that allowed his new dreadlocks to cascade down over his neck. His eyes told of his desire to speak, so the 16-year-old pulled himself into a seated position.

“So,” Tucker began, his eyes shifting to ensure there were no ears on them. “What did CW want?” Ah, so that was the reason that Tucker drew Danny from his pits of despair. He was going to tell his friends; he just wanted a minute to wrap his head around the news before letting them know. Danny’s eyes drifted over to Sam, and the goth’s raised brow and clenched jaw told of her concern, even though she was trying to seem appropriately interested and not overbearing like she had in the past. He allowed himself a second to appreciate her half-shaved head once again, thinking back to the way Pamela had screeched just two days ago when he dropped Sam off at home after a devilishly fun evening at the mall.

Danny groaned once again, double checking the restaurant for prying ears before hunching forward and speaking in a hushed tone. “I’m apparently gonna be crowned Ghost King once I turn eighteen.” Danny had to stifle a grin at the loud gurgling noises that came from his friends, the memory of him making a similar noise when he first met Jazz playing in his mind’s eye.

“Danny what-“

“When did you-“

“Guys, guys, quiet down, people are staring!” Danny bit out, though his words held no venom. He knew they hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, and he also knew they wouldn’t be on the lookout for any attention they might gain. They had no League training, and Danny never wanted them to. He couldn’t keep them out of his life as Phantom, but he would never stoop so low as to introduce them to the world of al Ghul’s. He couldn’t, not when the only one in that damn place that ever cared about him was… Instead of lingering on that thought, Danny allowed himself to take on an easy smile as he continued forward. “It’s not a big deal. CW said I’ll have to go the Realms like, once every week or two after the coronation is over with.” Sam and Tucker noticeably loosened as the knowledge that their third wasn’t going to be disappearing into the Infinite Realms forever.

The trio’s order number was called from the front of the room, and Sam slid out of the booth to go and grab it. When she got back, she handed out their food, and Danny stared down at his vegetarian sandwich. He had decided to make the switch a few months ago, his dreams plaguing him with ghost animals coming back for their vengeance. He had tried to ignore them, but the second that Vlad had sent a ghost cow his way, his desire to eat meat had disappeared. Sam had cheered when he told them of his decision. Tucker had just huffed in annoyance and refused to eat lunch with them for two days.

“Dude,” Tucker whispered as he leaned into Danny’s side. “Breathe.” And suddenly Danny was inhaling an ungodly amount of oxygen as he realized he had been staring at his food, unbreathing, for the past five minutes. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often forgot, his body no longer required him to breathe more than once every hour. In fact, he still remembered the time Jazz had woken him up in the middle of the night due to his lack of breathing and the fact that his heart had only pumped once in 15 minutes. She had been crying when his eyes flew open, and they had had an hour-long discussion about how important it was to at least act like he was inhaling oxygen when around others. Still, he had to kick the thought about how the lack of breathing would make him even more hard to notice sneaking up on someone to dispose of them out of his mind multiple times.

Honestly, with how often he failed at the task, it was a surprise Jack and Maddie hadn’t noticed. Though, it shouldn’t be, considering they hardly ever paid attention to the presence of their children. Danny ate his sandwich and enjoyed the comfortable silence that sat between the three friends, his hair cascading into his line of vision. Danny wanted to cut it, but the fact of the matter was, the more effort he put into being a greasy, grimy gremlin, the less likely the League was to find him out. He checked his phone, and, seeing that it was nearing 6:30, the time Jazz was set to get home for her trip back to Amity, said his goodbyes for the night to Sam and Tuck. His eyes slid over the window, and for one heart stopping second, he thought it was Damian with the way the lights reflected green in his eyes. But then his eyes caught sight of the scar on his left temple, and the illusion was broken. He huffed to himself, then willed his shoulders to relax. God, how he missed his brother.

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Jazz pulled up to the Fenton household with a sigh on her lips. She hated being in the same house as her parents, but she hated leaving Danny alone even more. He had practically pushed her out the door the day she moved to Gotham for college, but she knew he hadn’t wanted her to put her life on hold for him. Still, she wished that she had the money to be able to take guardianship of her brother until he turned 18. If their parents ever found out about him… well, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, that was sure. She may have thought they would understand after she first found out, but it had been so long, and their hatred for Phantom had only grown in the last two years…

Jazz clapped her hands together. No point in worrying about what could happen, Danny had set so many backup plans in place that she had had to spend an entire 48 hours memorizing them. She just needed to focus on her main goal: get Danny to talk about his life before the Fenton’s. He had kept everything to himself for the past seven years, but this time, his Gotcha Day would be spent healing from past trauma – she hoped. Frankly, she would be lucky if Danny said two words about his past, he hadn’t said since the day she had convinced her parents to adopt.

Jazz pulled down the sun visor and slid open the mirror, schooling her expression into one of pure will. “You can do this, Jasmine Fenton. You’ve spent the last two months in Gotham University studying psychology, and some 16-year-old boy will not-“

“Whatcha doin’?” Jazz’s pep talk was interrupted as she let out a totally normal, definitely cool and collected, screech. Danny started cackling, his torso sticking out of the floor of Jazz’s car.

“Danny! You can’t just pop into existence right in front of people who are having a private moment!” Jazz was chastising him, but Danny couldn’t help the giggles that continued to escape his mouth. Jazz huffed, threw open her car door, grabbed her bags, and started marching toward the front door. Danny was trailing behind her, but she didn’t care. She had forgotten just how unnerving it was when Danny appeared out of thin air, having empty space and then without warning he was just there. It reminded her of when he had first been adopted, of how he would suddenly appear and then disappear without so much as breathing loud enough to be heard. It was different now, though, as he no longer needed to put effort into softening the sounds escaping her body. Not for the first time, Jazz let herself wonder what type of homelife Danny had had before appearing in Amity.

She had only been able to come up with one plausible theory, and that was that Danny’s parents had been incredibly abusive. He must have had to learn to be as quiet as a mouse to remain out of his parents’ fighting, protecting himself from the vile side of humanity before he should have known how horrible people could be. That kind of history would be exactly the type to make someone refuse to speak about their childhood, so Jazz had allowed Danny to remain silent when it came to her questions. He didn’t have to give any answers he wasn’t prepared to, not until the traumatic memories started to cause real damage to his psyche. She was drawn out of her musings by Danny jabbing her side with his pointer finger, and when she turned a disapproving stare at him, he began rubbing the back of his neck.

“What’s up?” At the question, Danny’s hand dropped down so he could cross his arms over the ghost symbol on his hoodie. Honestly, Jazz wasn’t sure his coping mechanisms of ‘joke about my own death while simultaneously ignoring the fact that I died’ were completely healthy, but the clothing articles seemed to help keep him out of a depressive state, so she wouldn’t say anything.

“I was just saying that Mom and Dad were all hyped up this morning about something, so be prepared for anything.” Danny’s eyes took on that shine they usually did when he was talking about their parents, but she had never been able to place it. It was a mix between fondness and disdain, and what that meant for the adults in their life, she’d rather not know.

“Don’t worry little brother, I’m always prepared when it comes to Mom and Dad.” Jazz started opening the door, and then promptly froze in place as she saw the two adults running around the house like their lives depended on it.

“Don’t forget to grab the Peeler, dear! We need to make sure we take as much as we possibly can!” Mom was yelling at Dad as he descended the stairs to the lab, and a booming “Okay!” reverberated off the metal walls of the stairwell.

“Mom?” Jazz stepped forward hesitantly, not quite prepared for the sight of bags full of clothes and machinery alike. “What’s going on?”

“Jazz! It’s so lovely to see you! But why are you here? Didn’t we tell you we’re going to Gotham?” Mom looked at Jazz with a quizzical look, and finding anything remotely resembling care in the purple-tinted blue eyes was almost impossible. Jazz had to once again start the mantra of “they love us, it’s just… hard to see” in her own mind.

“No, you didn’t tell me you’re going to Gotham. Tomorrow is Danny’s Gotcha Day! I’ve been planning on coming back for months!” Jazz was tempted to let herself lose her temper, but she knew that it wouldn’t lead to anything productive. Instead, she settled for looking for any recognition of the one day that they got to celebrate Danny, since he claimed to not know when his birthday was.

“Danny’s Gotcha Day? That can’t be, that’s not until October 13th, right? It can’t be October already.” Mom was speaking as if she was stating a fact, but there was a slight frown on her lips as she checked the date on her phone. Jazz let her eyes shift over to Danny’s form, but he looked almost bored of the conversation. “Oh dear!” Mom was talking again, and Jazz decided that if Danny was okay, then she would be, too. “I’m sorry sweetie, we must have lost track of time down in the lab. You know how it is.” Mom’s voice was almost caring. “We were gonna tell you tonight, as a surprise! We’re going to Gotham for a week, Dad and I have a convention coming up that we just absolutely can’t miss. We’re leaving tomorrow, so go pack your bags!”

“Okay, thanks.” Danny shot off up the stairs, and Jazz followed after him. She needed to make sure he actually was okay; their mom had just admitted to forgetting about his stand-in birthday. Jazz knocked lightly on his bedroom door before slowly pushing it open.

“Are you okay?” Jazz sat down on Danny’s bed, shoving the bunched-up comforter out of her way while nudging a pair of jeans sprawled on the floor. She looked towards her brother and took in his appearance. His messy hair was hanging in his face, and his 5’9” stature was hunched over as he shoveled clothes into a duffle bag. He was throwing items like his chargers, toothbrush, and laptop into his backpack, and she hoped that he would try to do the online assignments that were sure to be filling his email by now.

“Yeah?” Danny sent her a puzzled look, and not for the first time did she realize that Danny obviously didn’t know what it meant to be a priority to your parents. Jazz’s brow furrowed, but she saw the way Danny was pulling into himself, so she settled for subtlety.

Jazz stood from the bed and gave Danny a long hug. “I’ll be in my room if you want to talk.” Then she was closing the door to Danny’s room and slipping into her own, the one she had lived in for 18 years, and the feelings of loneliness that hadn’t plagued her in two months crept back under her skin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny continued to shuffle items into their respectful bags, no longer caring if they were messy. Well, that’s not to say he didn’t care, it just didn’t bother him as much as it did when he first decided to take on the persona of a slobby teen. All details would be taken into account when it came to the League. Once he finished zipping up the duffel, he turned to his backpack. He crossed his legs, and for the first time in months, he allowed himself to remember. He thought of green eyes, of heartbroken screams and explosions, and he thought of a presence by his side, watching every blind spot he would ever have. Danny clenched his fists, as he remembered the day just over a year ago. He had just confirmed that his powers were fully under his control, and as soon as he had been alone, he had zipped away. He had gone invisible and intangible long before he reached Nanda Parbat, not daring to risk being seen. He had flown around the entirety of the League’s base, searching for Damian. Alas, even his quarters had been cleared. Danny left, knowing his brother was no longer there, either dead or escaped. He was determined to find out which.

Danny’s eyes opened, and he stuck his hand into the floorboard beneath his bed. He pulled out the wakizashi, eyes tracing every detail. He didn’t need to take the time to memorize it, as it was as familiar to him as it had ever been. For a brief moment, he considered taking it with him; but there was no way he would find Damian in Gotham of all places. Jazz would have noticed his lookalike by now. Besides, Danny didn’t believe in chance.

He slid the wakizashi into his bag anyway.

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solaneceae · 6 months

Text

my battery is low, and it's getting dark.

a codebreakers fanfic about étoiles losing his sight. read on Ao3

It starts off with light blurriness — the kind you get when you forget to remove your contacts before bed, dryness and irritation welcoming you back to the waking world. Étoiles doesn’t wear contacts, although he does don a pair of sturdy, cheap rectangular glasses on occasion, whenever reports have to be read or written in thin leather-bound books for the Résistance’s upper echelon.

(Upper echelon he’s never caught a whiff off, by the way. Étoiles understands the need for secrecy, for compartmentalization — but damn, it does get lonely here in headquarters, with nothing but his own voice and long-dried ink speaking of codes going rogue and islander alignments to entertain himself with.)

He blinks, once, twice, rubbing at his eyeballs through the skin of his lids. No amelioration. He shrugs it off, readjusts the straps of his slime armor. It’s a shit one, not even the good enchants on it. But he’s been restless lately, antsy. Not quite worried, but something else, something in the negative shape of a beloved, beret-wearing egg. Ants under his greenish skin, a fire only the cold bite of enemy blades and a close brush with Lady Death can fix.

He likes Kristin. She’s funny, with her large brimmed hat and gentle smile and gentler words still. Philza’s a lucky man.

“You are sad,” she would say, in the space-between-spaces he would drift to when downed, just before the ‘doom-doom’ of revival. The crimson bud of her smile would twist into a scowl, as she watched him give her a two-fingered salute. “Is that why I see you so often, starling?”

“I’m not sad,” he would answer without fail — the ache inside his chest wasn’t sadness. Étoiles didn’t do sad. He killed, he destroyed, his body grown in a weapon meant to hurt and maim and be hurt in return. Meant to be wielded by someone worthy. (He thinks of pitch-black feathers and a wheezy laugh, the tingle of wither-decay dancing on his skin, the smell of bone. Claws digging into his bony hips, a litany of trills speaking of ownership-claim, great shadows trapping him in so effectively. His knee guards stained by fresh soil where potatoes are endlessly grown in honor of a great warrior he once crossed blades with. Worship, devotion.)

“I’m not sad,” he mumbles, jumping down the well and into the darkness of the dungeon below. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a shit one, and he could scratch that itch in the back of his mind that demanded blood be spilled, be it his or otherwise. “Maybe I die for real today, let’s goooo.”

He never does. He’s too good at dungeoning, too good at placing blocks and throwing splash potions at his feet, golden apples now a rare last resort because he knows what happens when he eats too many. Aaaah, what a pity, he thinks, as he loses himself in the clash of metal on metal and the grunt of mobs falling at his feet. What a pity, I feel nothing. Bad day for me, bad day.

***

The blurriness stays. Days go by, sluggish and quiet, too quiet on this shit island, and no amount of sleep or healing potions make it any better. His arm stings with static-burn where the black and green binary tar has spread, higher, creeping up his neck. But it does nothing to hinder his movements, doesn’t dull the sharpness of his mind. So he ignores it. “Maybe you should get that checked out or something,” Foolish pokes at it once, as they sit and talk atop the Titan’s head using the blue and green plush chairs the TazerCraft have sneaked in. Pac e Mike, wow wow, sings a little voice in Étoiles’ mind whenever he sees splashes of blue and green, because those two live rent-free in everyone’s builds and brains.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at the shark-totem, easy and casual and Étoiles. “It doesn’t hurt.” It doesn’t. “It’s not changing me.” He is changing, that softness that Pomme had made bloom inside him eroding away with every day she’s gone. It’s harder to stay still, harder to stop and talk to the others, because half of them are depressed and the other half are going insane. But none of that is the code’s doing. “Look, I’ll prove it! 1v1 stick?” he jumps to his feet, throwing a wooden stick at his friend with a fiendish grin. “1v1, right now, let’s go.”

Foolish chuckles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his emerald-carved eyes. (His features are hazy, fuzziness getting worse every time Étoiles wakes. Doesn’t matter.)

They fight, Étoiles takes it home with six hearts to spare. And he still feels empty.

***

Lilacs. Sunflowers. Cornflowers. Poppies.

Flower biomes were Pomme’s favorites. They’re hard to find, but Étoiles is one patient, stubborn cucumber. “T’aurais adoré ça, légende,” he hums, picking another poppy by the stem and stuffing it into his inventory, the frozen subspace keeping it suspended in time and fresh. He can almost hear the pitter-patter of her little cheeto legs in the grass, the rustle of the blades against her shell. The bomp of a red sign being placed, asking for more red, more blue, more of every color to make her siblings flower crowns and dye her trusty scythe like a rainbow.

He can barely make out their shape anymore, only differentiating roses from poppies by tracing their petals with gold-scarred fingers. He sees a blue blur somewhere at his right, oh, cornflower probably. Her secret code.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan and lets his body fall backwards, hitting the plush grass with a thump. A few butterflies flutter out of the way, one of them settling back on the bridge of the warrior’s nose. He glares at it, faded golden stars comically crossed. He only sees the yellow of its wings, stark against sky blue. “Hey, hey. Tu vas rien trouver ici, tu sais. J’ai pas fleuri depuis des plombes.”

The critter’s wings flap once, unbothered. Étoiles blows on it to make it go away, fails. (He’s a failure, at everything. Fails to keep his kid safe, fails to win a 1v1 against an insect.) Soon enough, there is enough butterflies on him to pin him to the ground under the would-be guilt of disturbing them. Étoiles whines, childish and unserious. “Vas-y, j’peux plus bouger. Pas juste. Même la nature me déteste, c’est bon.”

He’s missed this. The warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of fertile soil, the brush of grass blades, the call of the earth below pulling at him. Part of him wants to sink into it, curl up in Her embrace like a child would in their mother’s womb, forget about the world and the Federation and the Codes and all this shit. Maybe he could fall asleep right here. Let his body soak up the sun, let himself bloom again. Let that softness grow out of his skin for all to see, like he used to. Or, he thinks he used to. The memories of Before are static-fuzz between his ears, unreachable unless he looks at them at the corner of his eye, so to speak.

(The freezing cold, then heat as air exploded around him, an impact. Physicality, sudden and unexpected, the song of the stars loud in his ears as he opened his eyes for the first time in front of a bewildered human in a frayed straw hat. He was happy, wasn’t it? He thinks he used to be happy. What happened?)

But Étoiles is a warrior, a weapon, and weapons dull and rust and grow weak if left to rest. So he takes a deep breath, pushes himself up. “Désolé,” he hums to the butterflies as they scatter away. They are but bright, colorful blobs in his dulling eyes. “Désolé,” he says as he warps back home to forge yet another axe.

His inventory is full of flowers that he’ll forget about, wrapping him in a constant mix of herbal scents that has Cellbit recoiling next time they cross paths. Étoiles doesn’t notice it, the Brazilian’s bothered expression lost on his rapidly-decaying vision.

***

By the time the Code challenges him to what Étoiles knows will be their last duel for the foreseeable future, his sight is all but gone, everyone and their dog has taken notice, and he has brushed off their concern. “I don’t need to see to click good,” he boasts, slamming down deepslate to launch himself fast and run circles around a disgruntled Pac. “See, see! I’m strafing, I’m doing it, playing the game.” Pac makes a strange sound, one he struggles to guess the emotion behind without body language. “It’s okay, Pac. It’s easy. There’s no problem, at all.”

Phil isn’t here yet, can’t see any names on his comlink but Tubbo told him he wasn’t. Shame, shame he won’t be there to see him die, Étoiles thinks as the rain soaks through his shirt, the boom of lightning bothering him more than he lets show. His ears are ringing as he jumps, ducks, tugs at the string of his bow and sends an arrow flying where he knows the Code is, he can feel it, the only spot that doesn’t smell like anything but void. But there’s no feedback, no satisfying sound of health being chipped at, nothing.

This Code is too strong, his sword winging an off-tune melody as it goes through the binary without ripping or tearing. No damage. Ah, he thinks, so they have finally stopped playing. I see now.

The back of his chestplate shatters into a blast of broken enchant magic and diamond shards, some of them lodging themselves into his flesh. Something cold sinks between his ribs, brushing against his spine in a white-hot flash of pain that irradiates through his whole body, and oh, yeah, it’s over. It’s joever, as Tubbo would say. “GGs,” he gasps through a mouthful of dark green blood. He coughs it up, lets it splash down his neck and paint his shirt. Tubbo’s screaming somewhere, too far away for Étoiles to discern the words. “You- eugh, you slash-kill’ed me, good job you cheater. Easy win.”

The entity growls, a hum-buzz that makes his brain (or whatever he has for brains, maybe lettuce?) rattle inside his skull. The blade slides out, cutting away at him further on its way out, and his body falls into a puddle of rainwater and mud with a wet thud. It hurts, blackered arm buzzing, pain creeping up his neck and the right side of his face, extinguishing the last of his remaining sight.

He faintly realises that almost nobody knows about his respaw mechanic. Ah, et merde. He hopes they’ll have the presence of mind to ask Antoine, when they realise he wouldn’t just re-pop into existence seconds after his death… or when they noticed his body starting to wilt and decay, if they stuck around for long enough.

(Tallulah knows, he remembers. He told her. But had she told Philza, before she disappeared along with all the other eggs?)

Through his fading senses, his comm buzzes with what he knows is his first death message in a really long time. He can make out the sound of rapid footsteps, clickety hooves and heavy, leather work boots. Tubbo and Pierre. He closes his eyes, not that he needs to anymore for darkness to cradle him. He lets go.

He doesn’t see Kristin this time, only hears a faint sigh and a gentle breath sending him off into the void. He hopes they find his seed soon. He doesn’t wanna stay missing for too long, after all.

***

His personal death-void is not so bad of a place. Boring, obviously, but there’s a familiarity to it, to the way the darkness shrouds him like a heavy blanket, pushing against him from all sides. Not oppressive but comforting. Cradling, instead of crushing.

It reminds him of the dirt patch he was born in — he had been asleep and new, just ripe for the picking, dirt-stained hands pulling at his stem with the roughness of a long-repeated gesture. He had screamed, he thinks, not in pain, but to show the world he was here and alive, hello, hello sun, hello dirt, hello person! Had given poor old Théo a heart attack too.

Ah. He could remember, now. Théo, his leathered face and kind eyes with crow feet, wary at first before this walking, talking little legume with the night sky in his eyes, flower-covered vine-tail like some sort of umbilical cord trailing behind him as he follows the old farmer around, asking him endless questions in barely-legible French. But… yes, he’d been kind to him, Étoiles thinks. The first face his face saw. Makes sense it would be one of the first things that came back to him. Maybe remembering was easier in the void? Maybe he should die more often.

…Nah. Dying wasn’t his style. And having to regrow a whole new body over a week was annoying. He had things to do in the island! Like talking with people (eurgh), and giving them things (yes) and fighting with Philza (yes! yes! yes!) and have fun!

So he waits, oblivion pulling at him like gravity. The void is a quiet place, sometimes, but more often it’s not, with the song of supernovas and wailing stars far away keeping him aware, listening. He hums along to it with no mouth or vocal chords (not yet, still growing, still so small, unripe), and sometimes he swears he can hear another voice singing with him. Off-key, awful really, almost crow-like, but it sounds like someone he cares about, so he’s happy to listen to its drone.

Other times, he sleeps. And he dreams of tiny hands and quiet chirps and clicks, of the yesyes uncle Phil taught her, of the chrr-chrr-peep that means him, when she calls Étoiles’ name in her own little language. And he curls around the memory, softness, and lets it carry him up into the stars glittering behind still-forming eyelids.

***

“Étoiles.”

He hums — warmth, the slow beating heart of the earth. The choir of stars constantly burning far, far away. He could listen to it forever, because he had been listening to it since the birth of the first star, he knew.

“Mate. You with me? C’mon, s’been a week already. Come up here, you can do it.”

The voice scratches pleasantly at the back of his brain. But the earth is so warm, so comfy, a cocoon of peace and respite he’s not sure he wants to leave. He sighs with no lungs to breathe, no need for them, when all he could ever need is right there — perfect temp, perfect moisture, glucose, carbon dioxide, rich nutrients all around. Who needs gapples, really. Or thoughts. Or responsibilities. This is the best.

“...Mh. Alright then.”

The voice grates on his ears, ears that try to flick but are stopped by the soil packed around them. He groans in drowsy irritation, curls in on himself in an attempt to shield himself from it and from the world. It seems to work, the noises fading into nothing, and Étoiles feels his thoughts scatter as a faint scratching sound seeps through the earth and into his mind like white noise. Sleep pulls at him again, and he lets it.

He’s startled back into wakefulness by something pulling harshly, somewhere that feels a bit away but is still part of him. His eyes fly open in pained surprise because ow, ow, that’s my— “Come here, you lazy fuck!” That voice — high-pitched, that heavy accent he’s come to love, amusement and exasperation combined, Phil, his Phil, his GOAT, his brother in arms, his Death-touched angel.

Étoiles blinks, unseeing. Étoiles remembers. And with awareness comes something else, something that shimmers and calls his name in gentle whisper-echoes, as he feels himself being pulled up, and up, dirt parting to let him ascend back to the surface. Aah. Goodbye mama. Hello problems. “Get harvested, idiot!” Philza Minecraft grunts with effort somewhere above him, and the tug gets stronger, prompting a pained ow out of him as the ground crackles and breaks above him, and he feels air-sun-outside on his back as he’s forcefully pulled from the ground like the fresh crop he is. He flails a little bit, kicking off dirt and soil (it’s everywhere, in his hair and between his toes and a little in his mouth and nose, bleh!), then rolls onto his back with a groan, frowning up at the sky he knows is there, blue and clear, because it doesn’t smell like rain and the surface soil is dry and warm.

He’s back. And he sees nothing at all. Welp, better close his eyes again then. He feels a shadow fall on him, feels a sandaled foot nudge his side. “Helloooooo. Hello Phil,” he greets the other leaning hard on the deadpan because he knows it makes his friend laugh when he does that. It lands. “What, that’s it?” the elytrian caws, kneeling beside him and poking at his face, talons dulled to a gentle roundness. Étoiles wishes he didn’t trim them, but Phil is too nice, too careful, too eager to smooth himself down for others, for the eggs. Docile.

Étoiles despises it, but he keeps quiet because he knows Phil doesn’t like to talk about those things. “You get yourself killed by a fucking Code of all things,” Phil keeps going, “make everyone freak the fuck out because you won’t respawn like a normal fucking person, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Antoine knows. And I’m here now, so it’s okay.”

“Antoine barely logs on, you absolute dumbass. You’re lucky Lullah told me about the seed thing, because you would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

He opens his eyes, if only to shoot Phil a halfhearted glare. And then immediately forgets about it, blinks owlishly. Sits up to get closer to the other man. “Phil. Why are you stars?”

“What.”

He sees stars. (And not in the sex way, because he doesn't do that.) It’s not night, but there are stars in his vision, where pitch blackness used to be, and the constellation is Phil-shaped.

Philza is a cosmic cluster, a nebula shining bright in the darkness that has become his world. He can see nothing beyond him, not the plants surrounding him, not the long vine attached to his lower back Phil used to pull him out. He can tell it’s there, though, lightly thumping at the ground in agitation. “You, are stars. That’s how I see you now.”

“Wait. Can you, like, see again?” Phil asks, uncharacteristically soft. “I know it was getting… bad. And your eyes are like, all greyed out. Did the code stuff on your arm do that?” Étoiles sees a cluster of stars approaching his face — hand — and feels fingers brushing just under his right eye. He’s a bit startled by the contact, the area usually covered by his trust bandana (he needs it back, needs his stuff back, hopefully someone held onto it for him). Phil draws away, an apology ready from the way his constellation-body shifts, but Étoiles doesn’t let him. “I can’t,” he answers, tilting his head, ear flicking in focus — the stars that make up Phil sharpen, and he can almost make out the shape of the wings bound behind his back. “But I can See. I think.” He also wouldn’t mind Phil’s hand on his face again. It feels nice. Scratches at something long-buried, and denied.

Philza makes a confused sound. “Okay, I heard that capital S there. What’s that mean? Are you pulling a Daredevil?”

Étoiles grins, sharp-toothed and playful. “Oh, oh! He thinks I’m a superhero? He thinks I’m cool, Felipe Minecraft? Big win for me.” Phil rolls his eyes, which Étoiles can tell because the crow always makes that low warble when he does. “But no, it’s not like that. I still need my eyes to see like this, and I don’t hear or smell better than before.” Although his status as a hybrid means his baseline is still higher than the average person’s, but that’s irrelevant. “FF.”

“So no cool blindfold for you, ey?”

“No cool blindfold. I will just do a Pomme and drown myself later, to make up for how uncool I am.” (He cannot drown. No lungs. But he can pretend.)

He squints. There’s a little cluster, right there at the side of Phil’s head. He can connect the dots, identify the shape of the elytrian’s bucket hat, but there’s something else there too. “What’s that on your head, Phil? I can’t make it out well.”

“Oh— here,” the other takes his hand and guides it towards his hair, and Étoiles feels a familiar texture under his pads. He makes a noise of surprise. “That’s. Mine.”

“Do you want it back?” Phil hums, brushing at the large cucumber flower tucked in the band of his hat. “It bloomed this morning, on top of the plant you were growing under. Took it as a sign you were, uh, done cooking.” Étoiles snorts. Good guess. “But uh, I guess the plant was also you, cuz it’s at the end of your tail now. Dragging.” Ah. Yeah. He really ought to cut it. “Is it weird? That I’m wearing a piece of you? I don’t know what… fuckin’... cucumber etiquette is.”

“It’s not weird,” Étoiles says, because he doesn’t think it is. “You can keep it.” He kind of likes it. That Phil’s wearing a piece of him. It makes him, happy? “You know, that I am your weapon. Yes? So it makes sense, that you show it.”

“You’re my friend. Don’t call yourself a weapon, man.”

“Same thing for me.”

Phil’s response is wordless, a simple, noncommittal mmh. But Étoiles can hear the hidden fondness in it. He pushes a little further, crudely imitates that one bird sound Philza makes when he’s happy. Whoops internally when Phil puffs out his feathers and trills out a yesyes in return. Héhé. “Yes yes, Philza? Fight me, right now?” he slips into his usual stance, just a bit offset by the lack of armor weighing him down. “1v1, no weapons, no armor? Fistfight, let’s go.”

Phil cackles, crow-like. “I am not fighting you right now, you little shit. You menace. What’s wrong with you?”

“Aww, Phil hates me,” the warrior whines. “He hates me. He won’t 1v1 me, he must hate me. Sad.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.”

“I was literally born five minutes ago. I am baby, and Felipe Minecraft hates me,” he sasses back, and Phil throws his arms towards the sky in exasperation. “Oh come on. I spent a week protecting your green ass! Making sure you got enough sun and water and shit, it was like doing egg tasks all over again. Antoine even talked me into fucking singing, pretty sure he was pranking me with that one by the way, and still you think I hate you?”

“Nice caulk, Phil.”

He can’t see it, but Étoiles knows Phil’s eyelid is twitching. “Mate. I got a faceful of ass pulling you out of here, you’re on thin fucking ice.”

The cucumber snorts. “Héhé, got mooned by the stars.” That was kinda funny. “You were pulling me by the tail, I do not know what you expected. You’re lucky I’m a plant, or there would have been full cock and balls there.”

“Bruh. I thought it would be connected to your… plant belly button, or whatever, like an umbilical cord.”

“It’s an ass button, GGs.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t call it that. I didn’t even know you had a tail. You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I always cut it,” the warrior huffs, said tail lashing behind him from the restless energy that always accompanies a new body. Its leaves drag around the loose dirt in little swish-y sounds. “Give me a sword, Phil, it’s already annoying me.”

The crow peers down at the vine, then back at him. “I dunno, man. You look kinda fun with it.” Étoiles squints. He can’t quite make out Phil’s expression like this, all stars and nothing between them, but he can hear the hidden laughter in his voice. “...I will cut it with my teeth then.”

“Won’t that hurt more than with a blade?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Only the base. Like when you pulled on it.”

“Why not keep it? It’s a part of you.”

Because it speaks for me, he considers replying. Because it says and shows things that I don’t want people to see. Even now, it wags, because Phil is here and now brushing stray dirt out of his hair and it’s very nice. (Is he touch-starved? He might be. Pomme is gone, and he doesn’t trust people to touch him, other than with blunt force and sharp diamond blades.) But Étoiles hasn’t kept his tail since he was a child, still wide-eyed and showing his innermost self to the whole world without any shield. He feels weird. Exposed. And it’s okay with Phil, because Phil is Phil, but it’s not okay because they’re out in the open and anyone could come and see. He doesn’t like that. “Because people can grab it, and it gets stuck in things, and it’s annoying. I cut it, now.” He tugs at the appendage, bringing it up to his mouth. “Nope,” Phil snatches it away, and Étoiles hisses at him. “Calm down, dude. At least let’s do it cleanly.”

“Eeeeuugh. Okay.”

”Then we’re getting your stuff back from Antoine’s, good god. You’re still butt-naked and I won’t have you strut around like that.”

“He has my things? Comms, armor, my backpacks?”

“All of it, yeah,” the older man huffs, and Étoiles can hear the telltale sound of an item being summoned of an inventory. Enchanted axe, he parses, recognizing the ozone-y smell of the sharpness enchant and the sound of the air being sliced downward. He doesn’t feel anything when the vine is severed, frowns when he realises Phil left a good… fifty centimeters of it, still attached to his body. “Phil. You misclick? You aim like shit today?”

“You said it hurts near the base,” the elytrian huffs, finality lacing his every word. “Keep it or cut the rest later, your pick, but I’m not hurting you.”

Étoiles’ ear flicks in confusion, and so does his tail. It moves faster, easier now without the rest of the plant weighing it down. “...We fight each other all the time, that hurts more. I don’t care.”

Phil stays silent for a few seconds. Nebula-Phil shifts before him. “It’s. Different.”

Étoiles hums. Philza has the Tone™ again, the one that means he’s thinking of things that hurt. He thinks of clipped feathers, of matted down that he wishes he could run his fingers through and fix, fix, let me fix it, let me do this for you. But he says nothing. Maybe another time, when they’re both ready for that conversation. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe I keep it this time. Maybe.”

He can hear Phil’s smile in the next word he speaks. “Attaboy.” And he tries to ignore the way his tail wags with renewed enthusiasm at that.

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mychoombatheroomba · 5 months

Text

Your Move

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 3

Krauser has you lead another lesson.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Two figures were waiting for Leon’s squad when the time came for close quarters drills a week later. One bulky man in a red beret, and the other . . . well, part of him had expected to see you again.

Your presence at Krauser’s side set murmurs throughout the squad - the men and women training alongside Leon taking every opportunity to talk before they got into formation. “Looks like the Sergeant came back for seconds,” one of them said, and Leon felt the attention turn to him for a moment. They all probably imagined he would be getting a matching bruise on the other cheek. Maybe even a touch up on the now fading original.

Even with the apology you’d given him, Leon knew by the look in your eyes that any fighting you did today would be without mercy. You were just as you had been on that first day - focused and determined. Something told him that there would be no slip of that mask, this time.

He felt more than a little vindicated when Krauser announced what today’s exercise would be.

“You know, boys, I was promised the best and brightest Uncle Sam had to offer. You can imagine my disappointment when I was settled with you lot.” The Major shook his head, stepping forward. “Weeks of training, and you’ve all got shit to show for it, and you know what? It’s my fault.” Not a good sign to hear Krauser admit his fault in something. “I had you fighting each other all this time. Letting you teach each other your mistakes.” He motioned you forward, and you obeyed, eying all the recruits in front of you. Your gaze, cold as steel, spared Leon no extra moments of attention. “Williams.” Krauser pointed to the first cadet in line. “Arm yourself. Then you’re up.”

It wasn’t just going to be Leon, this time. The young recruit didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. What he was sure of was that he and his fellows would have bruises by the end of the day.

Leon just watched, doing all he could to prepare himself as Williams took up a knife and stepped up to you. Leon had fought her before. She’d trained with the army, just like most of the other recruits here had. Just as you had, if your rank was any indication. She was tall, broad shouldered and strong to match. She’d been one of the better fighters in their unit since day one. It didn’t end up mattering. Again, you began the fight unarmed and again you had your opponent’s knife in a matter of seconds. Williams inhaled sharply as you bent her wrist inward, taking the knife and resting it at her throat in one clean motion.

“And that right there is what I’m talking about,” Krauser shook his head. “Step back, Williams, before you embarrass yourself more. Alenko!”

Krauser pointed to the next recruit in line, and Leon knew what was coming next. Ten recruits, himself included. Ten recruits, ten fights, and he was third to last.

“But sir-” Williams tried, but Krauser silenced her.

“You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to fight.” Leon wished that were true. Wondered if Krauser knew how ironic a statement that was. “Back in formation.”

Williams listened, and Alenko took her place. Down the line you went, tearing your way through Leon’s unit, one at a time. All he could do was watch and wait, trying to analyze. To look for a weakness, or something he could use. Patterns, favored sides, anything.

As he searched, in those quick exchanges before you found your victory, he realized fully what he was up against. He knew from your first fight that you were skilled but watching it from the outside . . . he’d only ever seen Major Krauser move like that. You looked invincible, even when you made missteps. Even when a knife came too close and your eyes flashed, or with the way your breathing was coming faster with every opponent, Leon could only think that nothing would stop you. It was impressive in a way that made his throat feel dry and his heart beat faster.

Still, he'd gotten you once before. He could do it again.

“Kennedy!”

It wasn’t about winning, it was about learning. That was the point of this. Leon had to remember that.

Smaller arm movements.

He’d been practicing, but he knew you had been, too. He’d seen you in the yard in your off hours, or at the firing range. It seemed like you lived for nothing but this - and whatever your reasons, your work had paid off.

Stepping up against you made him feel heavy. Grounded. Like your razor-edged focus was seeping into him. There was no sign of familiarity between the two of you, no indication that you had sought him out to apologize. Just a little tilt of your head, one that Leon understood well enough.

Your move.

Keeping his arms close, his knife low, Leon weighed his options. The guard you stood in left your hands up, ready to defend. Leaving your lower body open for attack. Your left leg was forward.

Leon moved, his knife a line of silver through the air, poised to hit your leg. You stepped back, your left arm moving. Your hand met his forearm, guiding the knife away from you. Leon let the motion happen, the momentum of it making what he planned next easier. You wanted smaller movements, you would get them.

He twisted the knife, angling its blade back so that it would slash across your forearm. It was the smallest movement he could manage, and delivered with a speed that was too much for you to avoid. As you saw what was happening and moved your hand away, Leon felt the dull edge meet your skin. It was just a scrape, but the attack had worked.

He knew better than to think one scratch would mean a win. It wouldn't be a victory against any of his fellow recruits, and it damn sure wouldn't be a victory against you.

Knife moving fast, he slashed up at your arm. You blocked, moving back. Another slash, another block. Each one, he felt himself getting closer to his target-

He realized why all too late as you moved, your arm coming up and over his own and trapping him against your body. He felt his arm extend, edging close to the point of pain as you moved, your free hand coming to his shoulder. Eyes wide, Leon tried to move back, his free hand reaching for something, some hail mary attack he could get to. In the end, with you just out of reach, Leon could only fight to remain upright as you used his arm to pull him down.

It was a fight that he lost, and for the second time, he was forced to the ground face-first, your weight and the now painful hold you kept on his arm keeping him down.

And just like that, it was over. Krauser called the next name, and Leon was done.

It was stupid to let the frustration get to him, but it crept in from under the floorboards anyway. At least, it did, until just before you released your hold on him, Leon heard your voice. “Better.” It was all you said, and it was spoken so quietly he almost missed it. Still, it was enough. Then you let his arm go and stood, your weight being gone letting him move.

A hand, one with bruised and scraped knuckles, was offered to him. This time, Leon took it, offering you a grateful look as you pulled him to his feet. He stood just in time to see you tucking your dog tags back beneath your shirt.

Three tags. Not two.

There was no opportunity to question what he’d seen. He fell back into formation, just as another recruit took his place against you.

The remaining fights were quick, just as Leon’s had been. One ended with a knife flying towards the line Leon and the others were in before you twisted your opponent’s hand behind their back. The final fight, however close the knife came to your throat, was over when you took the practice knife from the man you fought and drove it into his gut. He grunted in pain, and Krauser barked “Hold!”

You were at attention in a split second, the practice knife still in your hand. Krauser stepped forward, his lips pulled tight into a smirk.

“Well, that was a damn tragedy to watch.” No one laughed, all of them either too furious at getting their asses handed to them, or knowing better than to interrupt the Major in any way. “All armed, one after another, and the Sergeant still wiped the floor with you.” He almost sounded proud of you. That pride was gone as soon as it came, as Krauser took a more serious tone. “I promise you, whatever you find yourselves up against won’t be as forgiving as our Sergeant, here. You think you’re all ready for that? You think you can afford to be sloppy when you’re in the thick of it?”

Leon’s throat tightened, and he remembered that night. He remembered the monstrosities he’d fought, all the times teeth had nearly ripped into his throat, or a claw had just barely missed his belly. He had been lucky. He wouldn’t always be.

He had to be ready.

“I was going to have us run drills, but now? Now I think running is the only thing you would be good for in a fight.”

Leon knew what that meant. So did everyone else in line, if the shift in energy was any indication. The march was miserable, but they always were. This one just had an overtone of shame and anger to it. Some were angry with Krauser, whispering that he was just a prick, that he was trying to scare them.

They didn’t know what was waiting for them when they were done with this training. Some of them might have heard the rumors or heard from a second-hand account what happened in Raccoon City. They hadn’t been there. They hadn't had the light drained from young, bright eyes like he had. Like Claire had. Sherry. Youth and childhood taken from them all in one night. These soldiers hadn't seen what he'd seen, or survived what he'd survived.

If they wouldn’t prepare, then Leon would. So others wouldn't have to suffer what he and Claire and Sherry had suffered. That was what he resolved himself to do as he trudged on, the weight of the pack on his shoulders nothing next to the weight of what he had seen.

He would prepare, and he knew just how to start.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: I love the process of rereading these while posting them here, cause Leon is truly just a little guy in these first few chapters!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

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marvelmaniac715 · 1 month

Text

I made Webby and the Lords in Black on Sims 4 a while ago:

Here’s Wiggly:

I was really proud of his hair. I also gave every Lord and Webby their own special room/building, so here’s Wiggly’s:

Decorating isn’t my strong suit but his room was the most fun to design, I was thinking mostly of a grand palace, mostly in green, with a fireplace and a table with thrones for him and his siblings to meet at - notice the white throne for Webby?

Here’s Pokey:

I couldn’t find a beret so I went for a Phantom of the Opera style fedora, but the eyes I found were PERFECT (side note - they are all spell casters because that made the most sense considering their godly powers). Here’s Pokey’s room:

I’ll be honest, I accidentally mostly forgot to give him instruments, my idea for this room was to explore his different interests because he spends most of TGWDLM trying to figure out what people want, and that’s reflected in the different activities in his room. I also gave him cool wallpaper that reminded me of a beehive as a cute nod to that - I think I gave him a violin in the end that you can only really see from a different angle.

Here’s Tinky:

My inspiration for Tinky’s look here was anime characters, much like in NPMD, but I found the perfect goat eyes for him that totally add to his look. Here’s Tinky’s room:

I gave Tinky every clock I could find, but the vibes of the room were definitely meant to replicate the cube with insane patterns meant to drive someone mad; there’s a rock climbing wall in the corner that I think alludes to Tinky’s feral energy.

Here’s Blinky:

I’ll be honest; this hairstyle for Blinky was what inspired me to recreate the eldritch siblings on the Sims, it just seemed perfect, and of course I made his eyes massive so he can have a good look at everyone. The sunglasses also seemed pretty accurate to me. Here’s Blinky’s room:

My idea for this room was to give Blinky things to watch - so there’s loads of tvs, a camera, comfy chairs and even spy tech in a corner in case shoes get too unrealistic for him. A small detail that I wanted to point out is that in every room for a Lord, I have placed lava lamps on their bedside tables that match their colours, funnily enough I just found them in the game anyway and they were a perfect fit.

Here’s Nibbly:

A fluffy jacket, pigtails and a big mouth, what else do you need for an accurate Nibbly? I love that jacket, I wish I owned it in real life. Here‘s Nibbly’s room:

Okay, this is essentially a fancy kitchen with a cupcake machine, a wardrobe, a vanity and a bed - I ran out of ideas here. Still, I think it’s cute and I think Nibbly would like it if he ever got midnight food cravings. This room could save lives.

Finally, here’s Webby:

I honestly think that Webby is the most accurate, I was looking at reference images for all of them but that dress seems like it’s been ripped right from the screen, not to mention her hair. I’m proud of this Webby, I can sleep well at night knowing I’ve at least done her justice. Here’s Webby’s room:

I was definitely going for ‘ethereal’ when I designed this room, with a chill, relaxing vibe - what could be more relaxing than loads of fairy lights? I also made it a priority to give Webby plants to show that she is encouraging new life instead of crushing it like her brothers - the larger amount of windows and lights also are meant to suggest that she’s a kinder, more moral/good person.

If you like my recreations, they are all together on the Sims gallery, just search for the Lords in Black and Webby or type in my EA ID, sparklefishkatie (shameless self-promotion) because I’ve put a lot of stuff on there over the years. Now; these guys are quite old, you might have to scroll back to find them, and I can’t actually remember if I put their rooms on the gallery, if I didn’t please let me know if you want them because I’ll absolutely put them up. If you’ve read to the bottom of this post, you’re the best, thanks a lot and please download these characters if you play Sims 4! 💕

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #the hatchetfield series #hatchetblr #lords in black #the lords in black #webby hatchetfield #sims 4 #gaming #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #the sims 4

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nerdieforpedro · 4 months

Text

Did you say Raspberry Beret or Tea?

Dieter Bravo x plus size female reader

This blog is 18+ MDNI

This fic is for general audiances.

Word Count: 777 (Go buy a lotto ticket! 😎)

Summary: You're having a horrible period day and Dieter makes it better. No raspberries were harmed in the making of this fic.

Warnings: mentions of periods, discomfort, fluff

Notes: Not beta-ed. I wrote it at work and tired out a moodboard I think. I'm playing around with them. I blame my uterus for this fic as today sucked while I worked. 😑

“Ugh….I roll and I roll and it does nothing.” Your oversized t-shirt rides up under your breasts which adds to your annoyance. You’re sweating and having chills at the same time. Sprawled across the bed, you’ve tried both of your sides, laying on your back which led you to curve it in pain and on your stomach, you had a few minutes or relief before another heat wave came and made it too hot to stay face down.

Sitting up at the side of the bed, your hair is lopsided and your silk bonnet is on the floor. You don’t remember taking it off or hearing it fall. “I took my Midol, I kept chugging water and peeing. I’m still sore, hot and cold…this sucks. What am I missing?!” You rub your palms on your thighs to try and take your mind off how uncomfortable you feel. The floor feels cool though, maybe you should lay on it. It is a beautiful dark hardwood floor, you can see your reflection in it. Your body has a sheen of moisture from your sweat. “Become one with the floor…” You whisper to yourself and then start feeling cold again from so much exposed skin. “My body hates me.”

“Honey Pot, you don’t look too good.” A voice that you’ve missed the last few days as he’s been out of town. Dieter stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee. You love your coffee with four creamers and sugars with some dashes of vanilla extract. “Do I need to call someone? You’re sweaty and you feel cool. That’s really weird.” He handed you the coffee and pecked your lips as you accepted it. His palm touched your forehead before traveling up to smooth down your hair which was sticking up. “You’re on the losing end of a fight huh?” You quickly finished the cup, warming your body from the inside out, then you were again overheated.

“You were so sweet with the coffee and you had to ruin it Dee. It’s one of my heavier days so it’s so much worse. My meds and usual positions aren’t working. It’s horrible. Fix me…” You whined, rather uncharacteristic for you as Dieter was used to you listening to his complaints. He sat next to you on the bed and put his arm around you, the fluffy fabric of his ever present gray robe tickled your neck.

“Aww…my poor sweetheart. What do you need from me? Anything you want I can order?” He asked, you shook your head and sighed. Patting his thigh before intertwining your fingers with his.

“No. I finished the coffee. I think I should have my raspberry tea. That should help, and then play some music, maybe moving around will help instead of just rolling in the bed.”

“Raspberry I can do honey pot. I’ll go start it now!” Bravo jumped up excitedly and ran out of the room. You were surprised to see him that enthusiastic to make you tea. He always said you brewed it too strong. You placed your feet on the cool hardwood floor again and stood, letting the cold travel from your feet, your head flew back from some relief. Your body had once again decided to change temperatures on you.

“Oh god that feels good. I should have gotten up sooner.” You laughed at yourself for not hopping up sooner and walked toward the doorway that led to the living room. Music filled the room as Dieter had turned the Bluetooth speaker all the way up and was shaking his hips with his arms extending out. It looked like he may start doing some kicks any time. “Dieter, what are you doing? Did you make the tea?”

He continued to dance over to you and pulled you toward the center of the room, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you around in a circle to the rhythm. “I don’t know why you wanted to listen to ‘Raspberry Beret’ but it’s always fun to listen to Prince. Personally, I would have picked ‘I wanna be your lover’ to dance to.”

You stared at Dieter’s bright face as the two of you danced, his face with the same half grin and smirk he normally had. Your head rolls back as you erupt with laughter, forgetting for a bit that your uterus has chosen violence this week. “Another fun one is ‘I would die 4 U’ you know you can’t hit those high notes Dee.”

The two of you continue to swing around the living room to the jovial sounds of ‘Raspberry Beret’ the tea forgotten over the melody.

Trash Panda Pals 🦝: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @titlee78

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x plus size reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you

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panjakes · 1 year

Note

Let me request a lil sum sum........

Idol! Jake x Model!reader

He goes to a fashion show which she will be opening and closing. (Meaning the reader will be the first and last model to walk the runway)

Let's say the brand is Mulger or Prada. Ouuuu maybe Chanel or Versace. Whichever you like.

This would be a dream come true if you could write it.

Tyyy💕💕

Omg not you requesting something from me!!! I love your blog!!(ps ion know shit about fashion shows so I’m just winging it🧍🏽‍♀️)

Jake took his seat next to the runway nervously. He had never been to a fashion show. He didn’t even know what to do. Should he clap for all the models? Should he just sit there? He was very conflicted

“Dude chill. Your visibility sweating” sunghoon says making Jake sigh

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. What do I do?” He asks sunghoon in a worried tone

“Just clap for all the models when they walk” he responds

“Dino have to clap even if I don’t like their outfits?” Niki asks with a frown

“Yes now sit back the show is starting” Sunghoons whispers as the lights go dim in the crowed. The lights went to the entrance of the run way as a women walked out waving to the crowed as the screamed and clapped

Jake awkwardly looked around before slowly joining in on the clapping. The women explained that the brand would be Chanel and the name of the line.

Soon she moved out the way and music began to play. Jake sat up in his looking towards the entrance of the runway.

The spot lights pointed in its direction and it was as if everything stopped. A women stood at the entrance with a smirk on her face. She blew a kiss before she started walking.

She walked with a natural cat walk and her head held high. Her sharp eyes stayed forward never once looking to the side of her. Her long dark literally shined with every step she took.

She got to the end of the walk way putting a hand on her hip doing a quick spin before continuing her cat walk to the back.

Jakes jaw dropped to his lap as he watched her walk. He clapped with the rest of the crowed still in Aw. Who was she?

“She’s really good” jay says making the rest of his band mates nod

“Who is she?!” Jake asks causing sunghoon to whip his head in his direction as if he was offended

“That’s THE Yn. Chanel’s TOP model” sunghoon says

“She’s also his bestfriend” Sunoo says rolling his eyes while clapping for the models that came after Yn

“Bestfriend?” Jake whispers

That smirk still engraved in his mind as he just clapped for the other models. He wasn’t nearly as interested in them as he was Yn. He wanted to see more of her.

As the night went on Jake only really paid attention to Yn. Everytime she walked he wanted to stand from his seat to applause and cheer for her. As of right now he had to be her biggest fan.

As the last articles of clothes were announced jake noticed Yn wasn’t in the line up. He peeked up and down the runway waiting for Yn to come out.

“Where’s Yn?” Jake whispers to sunghoon only for him to shush him.

Just then the music got louder and that’s when Jake knew Yn was coming out. Jake smiled as everyone including him, started clapping.

The outfit was cute. Simple. It was a black and grey skirt blazer set with a cute black beret with a Chanel pin. She wore black sheer stockings that were paired with black platform boots.

She strutted down the runway, one foot in front of the other. She put a little switch in her hips as if she knew Jake was watching.

Once she got in front of him she looked over her should at him before smirking and winking at him. Jake felt a little bold and decided to return the smirk and wink.

His band mates all smacked his shoulder and ooh’ed at him.

She got to the end of the runway standing there looking for the cameras before putting both hands on her hips. The crowed gets louder as she hits a quick spin before walking towards the back

“She winked at you!!” Heeseung says to Jake

“And you winked back!” Jungwon says giggling

“Don’t get your hopes up she winks at everyone” sunghoon says

“Your such a stick in the mud” jay says sticking his tongue out at sunghoon

Just then all the models come out to the runway and stand next to each other with Yn in the middle. She owned the show. It was her show.They all took a bow at the same time and came back up clapping.

The host thanks everyone for coming before ending the show and leaving backstage with the models. Jake frowns as he watches Yn disappear. He had to see her once more.

“Jake stop looking lost and let’s go”

He shakes himself from his thoughts and follows his group mates backstage. Once the reach backstage the host thanks them for coming and asks for pictures

Once they were done the host had let them know they were invited to the after party she was throwing which They agreed to go too.

“Sunghoon!!” All seven members turned around seeing Yn run towards them with a smile.

“Ynie!” Sunghoon says meeting her halfway engulfing her in a hug.

“Oh hoon I missed you! How’ve you been?” She asks

Jake too the chance too look over Yn as she and sunghoon talked. Her hair now flipped to the side in its wild curls. Her make up was now simple. Her outfit was very chic and it fit her. Jake assumed she was going to the after party.

“Bro stop staring!” Jay whispers knocking Jake out his thoughts once again

“He’s been staring at her all night” Sunoo says rolling her eyes.

It goes quiet as sunghoon and Yn’s attention turns to Jake.

“It’s okay, I’ve noticed his stares” Yn says smirking

“I Uh sorry about that” Jake says nervously

“Don’t apologize, I like when you stare at me” Yn says smirking even more

Everyone ouu’s and look over at Jake who couldn’t help but get as red as a tomato. Jake didn’t even know what to say.

Yn goes into her purse pulling out a black pinned that was outlined in gold.

“Here” she says grabbing jakes hand. She begins to write down what Jake hopes is her number

“Call me sometime,I’d love to get to know you” she says winking at him

“I- Uh…yeah sure” Jake says laughing nervously

“See you boys at the party” she says waving before walking off with her heels hitting the ground

Even off the runway, she had that natural catwalk.

Jake let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before looking down at his hand

“She gave me her number” Jake says excitedly

“Yeah yeah yeah! Whatever you better call her” sunghoon says pointing a finger

“Oh trust me, I will” Jake says going to lock Yn’s number into his phone

#ambw fic #black reader #ambw #black girls are beautiful #black reader insert #kpop poc #kpop #x black reader #x black!reader #kpop imagines #enhypen x black reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jake x reader #kpop x black reader

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woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh · 8 months

Text

(ALMOST) EVERYTHING I NOTICED FROM BAC BMC

NOTE: spot check me!

It was the Two Rivers script, but I still haven't read the whole Two Rivers script so if I mention something I noticed that’s actually just… in the script… lmk!

Also: if you also saw the BAC production (or if you are the BAC people???) and I missed something, let me know!!! Literally anything at all I will put it here I’d love to approach comprehensiveness!!

ALSO: Spoilers! If you plan on going to Jake’s Halloween Party maybe wait? Or don’t!!

CHARACTERS

Madeline

Putting Madeline here because the first thing I noticed in the whole show is she’s ACTUALLY A FRANCOPHILE and it’s so funny ldksjfjsfksdlf. She wears a beret, and people put on a stereotypical French accent whenever they quote her djslkfjsfkfds And during the play backstage someone (I think Chloe?) runs up to her, smacks her beret off and yells “You’re not French!”

Jeremy

OH oh oh oh oh. Bac Jeremy my beloved…. I swear like 30% of Christine’s autism was generously donated to Jeremy for this production jlkdsfjdls

He has this habit where he’ll put his hands in his cardigan pockets and push his them around in front of him or on his body to feel the tension of the jacket stretching. Patrick said this quirk was based on a neurodivergent kid he knows. I don’t have photo evidence and IDK how to describe it perfectly but i did draw it here (x). It wasn't exactly like that though OTL

He does it whenever he’s nervous (so almost CONSTANTLY) up until BMC P.1 when the SQUIP tells him to take his hands out of his pockets. During that song you can see him trying to put his hands back safe in his pockets but afterwards he never does it again, even after The Play. He also doesn’t do it when he’s with Michael, even at the beginning, so I take it to mean it goes away when he’s comfortable.

I think he flinches and cowers a lot (compared to other Jeremys, that is). Whenever Rich surprises him, Jeremy jumps and protectively throws his arms over his face. I think he reacts similarly to other people a few times - I don’t remember when exactly though… There’s also several times where he’ll stand totally petrified out of fear, like when Rich is writing “boyf” or when Chloe’s coming onto him. By all of this I basically mean it’s really obvious he’s been physically abused (presumably by Rich).

Just in general, his freakouts are very physical, he’ll kinda do these stiff arm movements or cover his face in his elbow etc. Off the top of my head this happens during Upgrade and also at the end of The Play when Christine’s singing to him.

All this to say he has a very very visible physicality to his awkwardness and I love it. I don’t just mean that on a character acting level, I also mean like if you’re sitting behind him in class your attention will actively be caught by his awkwardness.

He also has a deeper register which he uses mostly in a joke context? He used it in normal conversation a few times too, I think more towards the end.

I noticed him standing just a little pigeon-toed near the beginning. I don’t know if this carried through the whole thing though.

Clothes: his cardigan is blackish with a blue outline, and he wears it over a green shirt with a question mark (I perceived it as a Gravity Falls shirt but might be wrong). The eminem shirt is black and I dont remember what he wears it with…. At the party he has a cyborg shirt and a visor, and after the party he has a white shirt with a flannel and khakis (or maybe light corduroys). In VIMH he has another fandom shirt on but I don’t remember what it was sorry it was 11pm ljfsdlkfjdslkfs

Its so obvious I’m a Jeremy stan this entry is the largest one sorry 🧍

Mr. Heere

He seemed less depressed and more just out of touch in this one? During Two Player Game, he seems decently chipper, if annoyed, though of course he’s still unable to dress himself and unwilling to put genuine effort in with his son.

When he says “Good talk” he gives Jeremy a friendly shoulder punch. Right before Pants Song, as usual, he says “I could ground you!” Jeremy says “I don’t think you could,” and gives his dad the same shoulder punch while saying “Good talk.” AAAAAAH.

Michael

He seemed less frenetic and anxious than the Troy!Michael I’m used to (sorry that’s my only reference for Michael lol).

He was generally loud and exuberant. A very excitable but down-to-earth Michael.

MITB was amazing. I was nervous because it’s obviously (obviously) the best song so there’s a lot of pressure but no it was done perfectly. Sad as fuck. Perhaps moreso because this Michael was especially normal until now. (Also because pre-MITB Jeremy was extra mean in this production)

For some reason, I found it easier to picture this Michael being a childhood & school friend? Maybe just because this production seriously pulled my psyche straight back to highschool in a way the others haven’t been able to lol.

I maybe got the sense that he’s really trying to act like he doesn’t care as much about Jeremy as he does.

BTW I’m obsessed with the fact that his idea of a creeper costume is a mask and a shirt that just says creeps on it. I know that’s kinda textual at this point but taken together with the mask its lkesdjfsdjflksdf

Christine

Amazing ballet (?) choreography going on during her intro. I think that might be standard Christine choreo but still! Stunning.

I could actually picture her as an averagely popular girl in this one? Not sure why. Maybe more nervous in her relationships but more confident in other contexts, but I could be pulling that out of my ass.

I could also be thinking this because she has cool hair (space buns!) and likes Taylor Swift in this one.

Some of her songs had these really melancholy notes where I didn’t expect them - particularly in GTIKBI Reprise (/pos! I was like oh shit!!! every time)

Rich

He has painted nails! They’re black.

He had fruity energy the whole time but it got progressively more intense. No I can’t elaborate actually I don’t know why I perceived it like this but I did sldjkfsf

After he comes out it gets more explicit; he starts wearing a pink headband in VIMH (he also gains glasses I think? Unless they’re still Michael’s) and during bows he flashed a paper fan that had the gay flag inside.

IMO, it was implied that the house fire was a suicide attempt. I say this for purely textual reasons - because he doesn’t mention trying getting the SQUIP out of his head, and because Jeremy’s SQUIP later implies it was a suicide attempt. But his behavior around the fire - looking dazed while rhythmically flicking a lighter - could also indicate squipzophrenia. (Maybe it’s the same amount of implied as usual - To be fair, I’ve never really understood why Rich set a fire in the first place…)

Brooke

Very wholesome and I love her. IDK Broadway Brooke is very campy, and BAC Brooke is more like a normal sweet girl but maybe that’s just me

Compared to Broadway, way more respectful of Jeremy’s space. She doesn’t really try to physically seduce him in upgrade instead they just have a cute lil conversation. Also when she tells Jeremy she got cheated on, she doesn’t initiate contact by petting his hair (like in Broadway) - instead the roles are reversed and they hold hands comfortingly, and Jeremy is the one to escalate that by rubbing her hand in a slightly forward way.

Her French was awful!!! sdjkfldjsfkdsf It was the whole time but Tres Magnifique = "Trays Mag-nuh-Fike" is the one that really killed me

Chloe

Not to be backhanded… but she was really good at being a bitch??? Especially the scene where she’s giving Christine advice

Maybe closetedly wlw based on the delivery of “I like gay people” and the events of The Play??

The Chloe Jenna friendship intrigues me so much… what’s going on there…

Jenna

Sadder than Broadway Jenna…

When Chloe mentions her in play rehearsal she jumps up from across the room and says “I’m here!!” to no reaction.

Later in Smartphone Hour - J: “....because you are my closest friend-” C: “No I’m not” J: “Yeah I know….” Jenna sounds kinda genuinely bummed lol. Either she wasn’t expecting that or she’s *very* aware of it and it’s making her sad. My impression was more the latter.

During VIMH she’s wearing a sweater that’s colored like the lesbian flag??? (EDIT: the actor, Diana, said this was intentional and her Jenna is a lesbian!)

Idk idk actor so good she made me care so much more about Jenna dsfljdf

Jake

Maybe a touch more upfront about the fact that he feels a lot of pressure in his life

He was dumb <3

Mrs. Reyes

She’s a woman in this one!

She has a hippie thing going on i think?? Like a boho mom (affectionate)

Pronounces Reyes with a (several second long) rolled R at the beginning

Doesn’t do the stiff announcer-like angle that the broadway guy does. Her comedy is more crazy cat ladyish

The hot pocket breaks were preceded by an actual alarm sound I think???? bonkers fkljd

Ensemble

BIG ENSEMBLE WAS SO FUN…. They had so many funny bits going on in the background it was soooo good and another reason I wish I could watch it over and over because I couldn’t be paying attention to everything at once OTL

Scene by scene

Organized by song, but scene notes are in there too!

More Than Survive

"Madeline was all like-" *bad french accent* "ohohoho, I'll only sleep with you if you beat me at ze pool~"

“Oh my god he is like totally getting off on that” ← right before this Jeremy starts pointing at them awkwardly from a distance, I think in an attempt to get to his locker??

“I like gay people” - the way Chloe says this is kinda like “idk what the big deal is because *i* think gay people are soooo neat” which got a lot of audience laugh. I think she was talking to Jenna but I don’t remember

“I don’t wanna be a baller” (or whenever the class scene is) - Jeremy’s sitting in the back of class and everyone turns to throw paper balls at him. I was like oh my god he’s being genuinely bullied so hard in this one…. Then again maybe that’s just how he feels?

There’s this awesome chair choreo at the end where everyone’s laying down chairs in front of Jeremy for him to walk on and taking them away from the back to put back in the front as he makes his way downstage.

Scene: Michael's "You don't have to do this!" kind of came across as a shout of protest. (But of course still tempered with, "of course i'll make fun of you forever if you don't)

Play Rehearsal

"This is where you meet for the swim team" --- Instead of looking confused, Jeremy immediately acts like ok byeee - he might be eager to back out of the conversation and/or immediately accepts her answer as literal and wants to leave asap out of embarrassment.

“I also have a touch of ADD” - she trails off and stands there kind of in a daze for a moment, before remembering that she’s in the middle of a song.

“And can I mention that was really one of my best roles, DID YOU SEE THAT?!" She shouts this very proudly. And after her 'do you find that?' bit she doesn’t give Jeremy time to even try to respond, so it’s a little less rude lol.

Jeremy was very anxious, and somewhat in a bad way? As in the exchange was a bit off-putting to him.

Scene: “thank god the popular kids are here” - there are SO MANY kids entering. I’m not sure what to make of it! Popular as in everyone’s popular compared to Jeremy and Christine? Or is this a whole clique? Or is Reyes just talking about the popular kids and the other guys also just show up?

Mrs. Reyes: ~"Our funds will be diverted. To the frisbee golf team. What even is frisbee golf?" Across the room, Jake holds up a frisbee and silently points at it, trying to get Reyes' attention. She doesn't notice.

After scene: Jake’s “pressure to be the best at everything” is said very genuinely, not for laughs at his arrogance which is how I usually read it

Squip Song

Rich actor KILLED it just gotta put that out there

“So it’s like….” Jeremy takes an extended moment to walk to the edge of the stall and look behind to make sure nobody’s there - “...drugs?”

In the end of the song, Rich rubs his dirty hands all over Jeremy's arm.

The Squip Enters

Scene: Payless: “Wolverine” was great djklsfjdsf I’ve never thought about him before. (It was also the actor’s birthday!) When they enter he’s playing the knife-finger game. He threatens Jeremy with the knife at some point (either “400 dollars” or “all sales are final!” I think?). I can’t really describe the character acting but he was very entertainingly unhinged. He's called “Scary Stockboy” in the script & playbill and I thought that was a misnomer until the scene happened lmao. No that was accurate.

Scene: when they enter the food court there’s like a photo of a mall food court on the back wall but not from the perspective of the scene at all it was like a background that abstractly tells you where you are?? As someone who loves kitsch I enjoyed this, it happens with a few other scenes too

There’s a couple making out obnoxiously at the mall that someone (I think it was Michael?) had to step over to get to the table. I think they had some great thematically relevant background acting in this scene but I cannot remember it exactly I am so sorry OTL

Michael is buying Ecto-Cooler! It tastes like ghosts.

Jeremy “mourns in his chili fries” by laying his head down on the table. Jake and Christine sit at the table together without noticing him. Then Jeremy pops up and they have the usual exchange (“I didn’t see you!” “Yeah, you’re kind of hard to notice”). I thought that was a really neat staging!! And it makes more sense why he even tries to talk to her in this scene lol

Mild discomfort - The first half Jeremy just stands next to the table and kinda screams in pain. Then the second half he falls to the ground and is thrashing, again mostly just in pain. (Pretty sure that’s how every production goes but I think the intensity of the spasming is pretty variable so I’m describing it here)

When the SQUIP first appears, he offers to appear as Kermit the Frog, Barack Obama, and Gilbert Gottfried, and does a little impression for each one:

The imitations the Squip does are as follows: Kermit the Frog “hi ho Kermit the frog here, we’re gonna fix your life Yayyyyy”, Obama “My fellow Squip, if sync up we can change this loser” and Gilbert Gottfried “So Grandma and the dog are on the table…” - Courtesy of director Chris Guell because I couldn't remember them OTL (thank you!!!)

Also in the middle of this Jeremy says "That's a terrible Obama impression..."

Be more Chill p.1

Brooke and Chloe are shopping on the upstage side of the clothes rack; when Jeremy picks out the girls shirt, Brooke appears through the gap in the clothes and surprises him.

After the song, one of the ensemble steals the clothes rack and the mall cop chases him off stage in a very cartoonishly stiff sprint.

Do you wanna ride?

After the first rejection, Brooke goes to Chloe, who points out the satchel she has belted around her waist. As she starts to sing again she slowly unbuckles it and holds it behind her back.

Jeremy is very into it by the end and the girls have him dancing along with the music. I think you can see that in one of the promo videos too :P

Be More Chill p.2

Scene: When Jeremy’s going to bed after the mall, instead of sleepily singing, he uses a silly deep voice to say something like “yeah be more chill i’m gonna be more chill i’m gonna be so chill that ice is relatively warm”

After Rich talks to Jeremy (“hey, tallass, where’s my money?” and then they sync up) he spots a girl across the stage and yells “Hey, where’s my money?” then chases her down the hall.

Guy that I’d Kinda be Into

Scene: during the rehearsal - JR: "Bring me patient zero!" Then Chloe, sitting on the ground, looks through her script for like 45 seconds until finding her line: "Cough!"

At “I’ve been activating your pheromones” - Jeremy starts and looks at his armpits, then as the song continues he slowly pulls his arms up to rest behind his head, it was very comedic djflkdsf. He also uses one hand to waft from his armpit before returning to that position. Guy...

I think this is also the scene he uses a script to hide his boner??

They were so cute at the end!!! Just sitting next to each other in rehearsal and kinda leaning in towards each other. Very real very high school.

Upgrade

Scene: While Jeremy and SQUIP argue about Eminem, Brooke is (silently) describing the accident. She mimes hitting a hockey puck, then being impaled in the guts repeatedly.

Instead of literal bleachers (at least visually), Brooke and Jeremy go sit on the top of the stairs that lead off of the stage and into the audience. They kinda playfully walk around the railings and stuff, and at the point in the Broadway version where they start aggressively making out, instead they just sit next to each other and talk and it’s very cute :)

Jeremy’s freaking the fuck out in the middle and it’s so obviously sensory overload auauuauuauaugh. He was like contorting to cover his head in his arms. Guy…

Halloween

Brooke’s costume is a sexy dalmatian! She has an eyespot and a black and white skirt + other spotty white clothes. Jeremy’s cyborg costume only extends to the shirt & a visor. I think it matched with the squip’s visor?

THE PROJECTOR…. On the background was the funniest background it could possibly be it was like a graphic of a cartoon skeleton holding a wooden sign that said “Jake’s Halloween Party”. IDK if that’s a poster he got printed or if it’s an extremely camp way of abstractly giving us the setting or what but I WAS LOSING IT SLKDJFKDSJFSD

I WISH I had a picture of it, but in lieu of that I recreated it for you and I swear it was like 95% exactly like this. just projected on the wall behind the stage.

Do you wanna hang?

Right before this scene, there’s a huge group choreo where people dance with partners, and in the last move one partner spins the other one down, who lands on the floor looking up at them. Jeremy ends up on the floor and Chloe walks up and stands over him while inviting him to come with her.

TW - This scene is always sexual assault, but the tone felt especially dark this time – maybe it was just seeing it live, though.

Jeremy’s standing frozen still as the song starts and kind of visibly recoiling as Chloe walks around him. She walks behind him and shoves her hands into his coat pockets, which makes him flinch. Extra upsetting because like I said before I think his coat pockets are kind of a place of safety for him :(((

Pretty sure the SQUIP's Japanese was different from the Broadway. Wasn't sure quite what he said, but it I think it *didnt* include these from the Broadway one: お腹が空いた (I'm hungry) and お疲れ様 ('pleasure doing business with you,' i think?)

Michael in the Bathroom

Scene: Jeremy seems very shaken after DYWH and sits on the bathtub sadly; when Michael reveals himself Jeremy flips out.

Michael talks about “his clever disguise” and makes monster growls (meant as creeper hisses?) - I think with the tone that he’s trying to get Jeremy to respond to the joke, or point out the reference or something. When that fails, he starts getting serious.

“Get out of my way, loser” is delivered very confidently.

After Michael says he’s on his period, Jenna opens the door a crack to hand him a tampon dsjfkldsjflkdsjf. He throws it in the bathtub later at “I’m a creeper in a bathroom….”

Also of course, he’s in a creeper mask lol

Song: WONDERFULLY done. Honestly don’t have much to say it was just great. I get desensitized to that song after hearing it so much, but seeing it live definitely brought a spark to it.

“And I look in the mirror and the present is clearer…” section is like the *key* part of this song to me and Connor Introna did it really well. His voice started breaking at mirror, and of course he did the little sob and everything it was just chefs kiss

Guy that I’d Kinda be Into Reprise

When Jeremy asks why Rich didn’t give him a warning and Rich starts saying “warning” over and over, he says it at a steady rhythm until he gets off stage. Then Jeremy tries to rouse a drunken partier to say “So that was weird…” and Rich’s “Warning” randomly interrupts Jeremy like 3 times to comedic effect before he can get the words out

"Popular people are messed up" - less in response to Rich & more in response to the guy Rich is talking to passing out drunk (iirc)

This is just a 2R things but it hit me so just pointing out she just says “I’m not Juliet” in this one (rather than we’re not romeo and juliet) and auuauguughghg poor Christine :(

Weird noises: it’s kinda like a dinosaur impression in this one? They both go like RAAHH and make claw hands in the air. Then Jeremy stands up and pretends to be driving a car (I think???? lol) and Christine copies him

Christine starts standing up while Jeremy’s still asking her out. As soon as he finishes the question she immediately rejects him. That is to say, she saw where this was going and already knew her answer.

After the scene, Rich walks back across the room, flicking a lighter on and off in a daze.

ALSO: Ensemble were very entertaining in the whole party! During this scene there were 3 of them playing spin the bottle downstage left and it had like a whole arc to it sdnjkfdfdsf Also guys passed out on the floor and on the couch

Smartphone Hour

Starts w/ Jenna sitting on the edge of the stage, dangling her legs over the pit.

Brooke is sadly eating Rich’s loaf of bread. (After she forgives Chloe she passes it to some other actor offstage which I probably wasn’t supposed to see but it was funny lol. communal machete bread)

THE PROJECTOR….. Everyone was holding phones and in the background was footage from their front-facing cameras (prerecorded, but it synced pretty well with the live actors). Then you could see the GUI of them typing some of the lyrics (“rich fled to bombay!!”) into imessage and twitter

AND THEN you see footage of the house burning down on an insta reel…. An unremarkable suburban house where you can see flames consuming the roof. This same footage plays on a few people’s reels, then there’s also footage of firemen coming and putting the fire out and its SO REALISTIC i was losing it

Around “Changed my profile pic to you” it shows a bunch of (presumably) instagram photos of Rich like in his house and at school or wherever and i wont lie it made me feel for him a lot more. They were like actual full staged photos :( like thats a real guy in there…

Pitiful children

Scene: When Jenna asks if the SQUIP is a drug, she does the same extended thing of checking to see that nobody’s watching that Jeremy did in The Squip Song

The Pants Song

Scene: see my notes on Mr. Heere aaaaaauguh

Michael’s sitting on his front steps while smoking weed from a tiny green bong. You can tell it’s his front steps because there’s a mailbox next to him labeled MELL BOX in big letters dslkfjdskfjs

Michael’s wearing pants - I think that’s just textually accurate but reporting it anyway

When Mr. Heere comes over (“do you love him?”), he puts one leg on the top step and Michael is eye-level with his crotch. Michael has trouble tearing his eyes away. This happens a few times. In my opinion, it made him come off as a lot more high than he usually does lol

If I remember correctly, they get very intense and like shoulder-grabby at one point. Could’ve been a different scene though I dont remember OTL OTL

The Play

Michael comes out of the audience!!! It was cool it was meta lol

PINKBERRY CANON SDLKFJDKLFJKFJLSF. Brooke and Chloe have the Two Rivers dialogue (He didn’t sleep with you? He didn’t sleep with me!) then after Sisters forever! they do these actions to the rhythm of three staccato beats: “Jinx!” *high five(?)* *KISS ON THE LIPS* and instantly pull away. They're extremely normal about it and are just standing there afterwards without moving or acknowledging it.

Despite being in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, Jeremy is dumbstruck and stares at them for a few beats before moving on to the next line. It was amazing. No notes.

Jeremy is horrified when Christine starts singing to him. She walks robotically over to him and speaks kind of like she’s reading off a script (hehehe). Jeremy is backing up against a wall and freaking out almost like he’s trying to get away from her. No implication at all that he’s tempted.

When everyone starts screaming in pain, Michael is screaming in triumph. (Or at least he looked very triumphant, I don’t remember if he screamed lol)

Voices in My Head

Rich is in a wheelchair. Also he doesn't have a lisp.

Rich is wearing Michael’s glasses. When he starts asking about Michael, Michael shows up and takes his glasses back. I think Rich steals them back at some point too?

Michael acts a lil flirty with Rich - approximately "I'm sure you'll find something very special," then in a tiny high voice: “but not with meeeee…!” and he pushes Rich’s wheelchair so he rolls offstage jdsfkldsfkfd

At “Tell her that she excites you sexually” Rich does a little wheelie to (presumably) represent a pelvic thrust (all of these Rich moments were excellent I loved this Rich sm)

Christine’s squip was Taylor Swift this time!

At “I know the last thing I deserve is another shot, but…” He trails off and there’s a pause before “Just say what’s on your mind, Jeremy.” I know they get together obviously, but it felt like it could go either way! Maybe because it was live.

(And then they cccccome on lets go and do bows, in character i think, and it was amazing the end)

I was gonna write a TLDR here but honestly all of it was amazing and if you want the highlights it’s pretty much just the stuff I bolded!

Also end note the actors were all soooo nice and they let me ramble to them about jeremy for several minutes Q____Q it was amazing im so happy about this still I wish I got their signatures sjdlfkjdsfkdsf

I hope everyone gets to watch the show at some point but otherwise I hope this can be useful to someone!!

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