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aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years

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‘Tis the Damn Season- Chapter 7 Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

Author’s Note- anybody still with me? If not, totally understand. This one is self edited- sorry I’m advance. Reblogs are still and always love!

“Are you sure I can't convince you to come home this Christmas?" Her mother's voice had just a tinge of loneliness, but Emma was set and certain.

"I think I would really like to have a Scandi Christmas this year mum! And I think the best present you could give me is to come and do it with me!"

They'd had this conversation eleventy million times. Emma knew her mum was doing so much better, and that her being in Holmes Chapel, even alone, would be ok, she'd be ok. Emma just knew they'd have so much fun in her newly reclaimed life abroad fusing old traditions with the ones they would make. Her mum was just resistant, she loved her home, was a certified home body, and now that it didn't hurt quite so bad, she loved the reminders of all the Christmases before. She was bathing in nostalgia with a smile on her face and a sweet ache inside.

Emma didn't feel the same. She'd had a fair few wonderful holidays in Holmes Chapel, but to many revolved around Harry Styles, and well, Emma's life did not revolve around Harry. Had never and didn't even have the axis centered around December 26 for a once a year moment any more.

She'd just really gotten back into her own life. Well, Emma patted herself on the back, she'd been living her way for 8 months now, that was almost as long as the 9 months she'd stayed in Holmes Chapel.

When her mother had assured her she was well enough that Emma could go to Iceland, the thought of ice capped fjords in summer thrilled her as though she was climbing them, not just studying them.

So she did.

She felt so much better, and her mother was better and she'd climbed to the top of her trail back to her own life, the one she'd made out of choice and ambition and only been sorry for in brief, lonely morning afters.

Emma wanted to share her life with her mother more than anything, certainly more than she wanted to spend a holiday in a place she now almost entirely associated with hurt. Heartache takes many forms, deep and abiding grief, the kind like she imagines phantom limbs give amputees years on. It also can hurt like a quick sharp mishap, a slip of the knife, full of crimson pain and stitches.

She'd had both together and then his deep cut on top of the other last Christmas. The wound was too fresh to go back at the moment. The good memories were still colored crimson. She needed to wait until her lover's memory flashed with true colors instead of red or blue. Her father's memory was cozier and longer, it was wrapped around the warm pink of her mother, but even it was still too tender.

She needed time.

Emma also had no idea where Harry was these days. She'd cut off all methods of inquiry. She wasn't staying up late googling even, ever, not anything. Not his naked or Camille's. They'd be going on well into their second trip round the sun by now. Probably more deeply in love than he openly confessed to her. Emma didn't need evidence of it. It just opened the stitches she'd sewn herself.

So, no Holmes Chapel, no Google alerts or text messages. She'd blocked his number.

"Well, I suppose if you insist, we can try Amsterdam for Christmas." Her mother covered the sigh at the end of that sentence and Emma appreciated it. She suppressed a wry smile. Her mother could also still hear it in her reply she was sure.

"Oh mum! You won't regret it. It will be so lovely! I can't wait. I'll meet you at the airport, then we will go to my favorite cafe and take a snow walk. It will be picturesque. You'll fall in love, you'll see."

"Alright, darling. I'll give it a chance. I just hate to miss Anne's party two years in a row." Emma cringed and was happy this was not a video chat. She almost gasped and blew her cover when her mum said. "Won't you miss Anne's party? You're close with Gemma, and" she breathed while her mother hesitated, "and Harry?"

God, did everyone know?

"It'll be fine mum. I'll call Gemma. She'll understand."

She would, after they'd had that conversation the last time they'd spoken.

Gem had not really cornered her so much as insisted they get out of the house as often as possible from the day after Boxing Day until she'd left to head back to London.

She, the lovely friend that she was, didn't actually bring it up until she was back for Mother's Day. And she waited until Emma told her she was headed back to her program in the fall with a twinkle in her eyes even Emma knew had been long gone for too long.

Ever the blunt one, Gemma didn't even cozy up to the subject, "so did you break his heart or did he break yours?" She took a big sip of her cider and leveled her state over the rim at Emma.

Emma could feel her face blanching or heating or giving some indication who's heart was broken. Her elegant side step to that mine field was, "huh?" Then a moment later. "Who are you talking about?" To Gemma's patient silence.

"Alright, if that's how you want to be." Gemma playfully rolled her eyes. "You and my brother are not stealth, at all. You would make eyes at each other all night at my mum's and then disappear for the same amount of time. Remember I live with him."

"Do not." Emma didn't bother to deny it.

"I suppose not really, but as much as any one "lives"with him, I do over Christmas, and did for most of my life. I know when he's smitten with someone, and when he's got them around his little finger too." Gemma snorted and ate a chip. "His stupid walk even changes, all of a sudden he swaggers and walks hip first. It's gross!" Her face screwed up.

Emma tried to remember if she had ever seen this hip walk. She supposed she had when he'd walk towards her at the Boar's Head. Or occasionally when he'd corner her by the mistletoe.

"It's not gross." Slipped out.

"That right there," Gemma pointed. "Is gross. Your face all soft and flushed for my little brother. Bleach!" She sighed mixed with a bit of good humor. "But I suppose that means he broke your heart. I can't believe he just turned up with another lady. Did you at least know? I feel like I always know way to much about my brother's sex life."

"Huh?" Emma laughed.

"I just feel like I know way too much about his sex life, due to blind items and pap shots. Thought you might feel the same."

"It's not so simple as that, really. I knew because of that, about his girlfriend." Still couldn't say her name. "But I think he felt like I'd broken his heart, if I'm honest. And That's why he turned up with her. To hurt me back, in case I hadn't seen."

"Did you."

"Certainly not on purpose. My heart and head and life were in shambles, still are, and he made an assumption, and never let me explain."

"Why don't you explain to me."

So she did, haltingly, Emma talked about it all, tears on her cheeks about her dad and then her mum, and even Harry. The sad footnote of loss in a story of grief.

"Why didn't you just tell him?" Gemma asked the question Emma asked herself a lot.

"I guess, I couldn't say it and I couldn't text it. And it confirmed to me that he really only knew me so little, that he could think I'd take advantage of him."

"Did you ever think that was more to do with how other people have treated him than you? he's had to learn to expect the worst of people he wants to trust?"

"Don't make me feel bad for him. Remember? He broke my heart and found someone new. Had the audacity to move on before me!" Emma tried to joke.

"I think, I think you guys got into a mess and never bothered to clean it up until it was so unkempt you couldn't find the good parts." Gemma said after a quiet, mirthless moment.

"Oh no!" Emma tapped her head. "I kept all the good parts."

"Firstly, blech, I wish I could bleach that smile from my head, but 2nd-Is that enough?" Gemma asked.

"It'll have to be, I suppose." She swallowed the moisture in her eyes, "he told me he loves her. Straight to my broken face. Then piled on how he never got the time to love me."

Gem looked curious, then cautious, "I think he does. But it's cuz he wants to. Wants that desperately, to be in love. It may be some leftovers from you."

"Yeah?" Her eyes really pooled then and she bat her cheek to stop more from swarming. "Well I'll have to take that as cold comfort then, that she gets the seed of love he wanted to grow with me."

"I'm sorry. Sure he is too." Gemma sighed. "I'm so sorry for all of it."

"Yeah, yeah." Emma leaned on her friend, her only real one right then. "Me too."

And they left it at that. Emma's eyes were swimming and Gemma blinked a few times too rapidly. They hoisted their glasses. "To almosts!" Emma said.

"To dad's!" Gemma said. Then they both did cry. Talked about Robin's diagnoses. Then it was Emma's turn to be the shoulder, to bolster.

Life went on, the way it always seems to do. Emma and her mom laughed more and then her mum even laughed on her own. By that summer, they both stood on their own two feet, without leaning on each other, except when they wanted to.

By June, there was no reason to stay.

"So, are your roommates excited to have you back?"

Her mum was making tea and packing her sandwiches.

"Mum, I actually had to find mew roommates. The others had to fill the room I was in." She could see the down turn of her mum's lips from the side. Guilt was heavy. "It's not a big deal. The people I'm rooming with are other grad students, I know them. And it's works for the budget. Mum, you know I'm not riding the bus to camp right? I don't need a sandwich. There will be food at the airport and on the plane?"

"Won't be home cooked." Was all she said.

This wasn't for her then. It was some sort of amends, or a thank you. Like the tea she had taken to bringing to her to her room when she woke up, and before bed.

"That's true." Emma kissed her cheek, "I'm gonna go finish packing." She ate the sandwich on the plane later.

Counting bags, she frowned. She'd acquired a lot. She sincerely hoped the bag wasn't as heavy as her heart.

Emma was going to miss Holmes Chapel.

She did, surprisingly as much as she missed school the first 6 months she was home. Maybe, those feelings were tangled up in other events, the other missing pieces of her former puzzle.

I'm any case, she found herself better at keeping in touch

"So, any cute boys in Amsterdam?" Gemma chuckled over the phone one mid December afternoon.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" Was Emma's laughing response.

"I do, I really do." And Gemma, the blunt tongued, fierce hearted girl sounded suspiciously like a woman in love. Then she pretended to complain, because she was Gemma, about how They were both a little spoon, pretending to be annoyed about it.

"I'm really happy for you." Emma interrupted, meant it, even though she still didn't know if there were any cute boys in Amsterdam because she was still hung up on the cute boy who spent Christmas in Holmes Chapel.

Gemma must have picked up the stain of blue in her voice, "Hey, Emma, I think maybe I should tell you something-"

The buzz from her hallway door went then, and Gemma didn't get to finish.

"Hey Gem, my flat mate lost her key. I'll have to ring you back. Tell me then?"

And then it was Christmas, well Christmas Eve and she was at Schipol with a giant sign that said, "Katherine the great( est mum)!"

"Oh, bless you! Could you have made a bigger sign?"

"I'm sure I could have tried. Maybe found some glitter. Think a flat mate has the body sort somewhere." Her mum narrowed her eyes and pinched her cheek.

"Well, if you've finished embarrassing me, show me this dreadful country that's not England and all it has in terms of festive cheer."

"Let's go get some nuts then!" Emma laughed.

"I beg your pardon?" Her mum put on the prude and Emma laughed at her over the top expression as they made their way to the train to the city center.

Her famous Danish bakery was the first stop. "I thought we would have a taste test. We can rate them."

"Do you already have a favorite?" Her mum asked.

"Yeah." Emma thought about the trifle Harry's mum made and that he'd sneak to the boar's head to feed her in bed. It had only taken him watching her eat it once for him to recognize her glee. It was his favorite too. "But, I want to know what yours is!" Emma brought her memory and watering mouth to the present moment.

They ate their way through Christmas Eve And decorated her Kerstbomen. "Sorry the tree is already up. They were starting to disappear for purchase, but reappear in everyone else's windows! I had to grab one."

"Oh, no dear, it's alright. And actually, I brought a gift from Anne. I saw her the other day and had been complaining about you making me come all the way over here-"

"It's an hour flight!"

"Well, I suppose it will do, but it's not home."

Thank god.

"Anywho, she came by the day after and brought a present for your tree." Her smile was so expectant, Emma was expecting the worst. "It's so important to have good friends." Her smile was cryptic. What friends- Anne to her mum or Gemma to her? Who was the present actually from.

The box was festive. And wrapped beautifully just like Anne's house was always decorated so well. Emma set it aside, "I'll open it tomorrow mum, On christmas, at the proper time."

"Oh no! You must open it now. Gemma told her mom it was for your tree." Ah, mystery solved. Gemma was great at wrapping. When Emma opened it, her heart stopped a full beat.

At first she thought it was the frog, the one she'd gotten for him. That he was giving it back to her like a seal on their relationship that never was. But when she picked it up, she realized it was a proper ornament, not just ornamental. It was a frog, holding a heart.

What Did that mean, whose heart was it?

His for her? Or hers back where he decided it belonged.

"Where will you put it?" Her mother interrupted her train of thought.

"Um, dunno," she moved around the tree to an inconspicuous place. "I guess here." She shrugged.

"Oh no, dear. It's by far the cutest one we have." Her hand scanned over the other ornaments, a hodge podge of beloved ones and ones from Christmas markets. "It goes here." Her Mum stood and took the ornament from its hidden place, placed it front and center. "Let's get the rest up and take a picture."

She'd gotten her mother an aura frame for Mother's Day and she was now obsessed with adding to the Revolving cue of photos.

"Course, ok." Emma ripped her eyes from the frog, but they kept drifting back to it.

It was an hour of a little too much wine and her mother's cheer. It lightened her spirit and got her mind off it's wandery at Harry's intentions, until after silly smiley photos and teary eyed huggy ones, her mum said, "now let's take one for Anne and Gemma. Show them how nice it looks.

Emma thought she'd done a good job at the photo, at arranging her face the way it was supposed to look.

She must have been wrong.

Later, a number she knew by heart but had no current contact for came through. "Your smiles fake. Do you not like it at all?"

She didn't answer it on Boxing Day, or the day after, it wasn't until New Year's Day that she realized she'd blown her resolutions to Smithereens before they could even uphold their name.

All she'd texted back to his cold question was, "how come you're the only person who can always tell."

She may have never noticed she'd done it, with the way her group chats were going off, except he replied before her hangover even subsided.

#harry styles #Harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #song fic #ttds #chapter 7 #christmas (baby please come home)

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ary-se · 4 years

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Heater || Juza/Reader

wrote this in a rush before pulling in buzama banner,, was super busy so it slipped off my mind:---) if i still don't get him, at least he actually comes home in this fic,, but in a completely different sense so i don't think it counts ;-((((

edit: game is still on itaru banner but hey,, gotta do it early 😌✌

word count: 2.5k

"I'm home." Juza muttered under his breath, softly closing the door behind him as to not make any noise. He greeted to no one, being completely aware that he would not receive any sort of response in return, knowing to himself that he got home hours late compared to the time he usually arrives.

Slipping off his shoes that you got him for his promotion half a year ago, he gingerly placed them next to your own pair of heels that you used nearly everyday for work, subconsciously remembering that it was the same pair he bought you for your birthday. In the back of his mind, he wondered when was the last time he stayed silent as he entered his own home, waiting for somebody else to welcome him back before he finally decides to announce his own appearance.

During the first weeks of moving in together, it was hard for you to tell whenever Juza got home—almost every action of his barely made noise whatsoever, right from his numerous attempts on unlocking the door with his own set of keys down to his footsteps as he walks to the living room. It wasn't wrong to say that it kind of felt like an innocent child trying to sneak in somebody else's house, but in reality that wasn't the case at all. That time, your only basis of knowing when he arrives is the time he leaves work and how long it took for him to drive home.

"You better say you're home when you get back from work next time! That way I don't get a heart attack when I see you out of nowhere!" You lightly scolded him once, the panic still completely evident in your features. It was when you were preparing both of your lunches for the next day—you were too deep in thought while keeping yourself busy that turning around and bumping your head directly to his chest nearly made you scream. It didn't exactly help when you learned a few questions later that he has been standing behind you for a few minutes already.

"...Sorry." He quietly apologized, not knowing what else to say right after you reprimanded him. It wasn't his intention to make you feel that way—the reason why he never tried to make anyone acknowledge his presence in the first place is because he didn't want to be a bother. That was why when he realized that you were getting concerned over an issue that he was unconsciously avoiding for the longest time, he already started to weigh the consequences of his own actions.

Juza is so used to putting himself down, degrading his own existence—it was to the point that the notion of other people aside from his family openly welcoming his presence was such a foreign concept to him. If he was being completely honest, he does not have the slightest idea on how he is supposed to feel when that happens, and he doesn't like it one bit. Juza wants to be able to at least show that he is more than capable of feeling appreciation, gratitude like normal people do, however his mindset built from constant self-humiliation holds him back from doing so.

While Juza does not exactly find the thought of his presence being acknowledged as something he is comfortable with, it's an idea he would gladly take pleasure in—as much as possible, he prefers to get used to it, especially if it meant being able to indulge himself into the simple joys of life with you by his side.

From that moment forward, there wasn't a day when he doesn't utter the words "I'm home".

For the first few times, the words were undeniably stiff and iffy coming from his own lips. He sounded incredibly awkward, as if he was forced into saying those particular words. After a week or two, you told him that he doesn't have to say it every time if he really is uncomfortable—you were starting to feel guilty that you had a momentary outburst over something that truly didn't matter in the end. It wasn't even a problem to begin with; there was nothing to fix, so why were you making a big deal out of it?

"No, it's fine." Juza simply shakes his hand in response, rubbing circles to the small of your back to reassure you that he totally meant what he said. His expression gradually steeled into determination as he answered, a huge contrast to his hesitant features from earlier. It was as if he is completely resolved to improve himself even in the smallest ways possible, a way of paying you back for your consideration and patience towards him despite his reputation. Juza believes he still doesn't deserve that kind of treatment from you no matter how many times you comforted him, saying that wasn't the case at all.

Soon enough, Juza was able to say those words comfortably—they roll out from his tongue much more easily than before, as if he has been saying it his whole life. Those words were always spoken out the moment he steps in the house, admittedly expectant of the usual "Welcome back!" from you.

That small exchange became the norm whenever the both of you were back from work. It may appear trivial to other people due to how common those pleasantries are between people who live together, but it held an important meaning to the both of you. It somehow signified the moment you opened up to each other, which was beyond the act of sharing secrets and making memories together—it was far from that. The change of the dynamic between the two of you after that was almost indistinguishable, but it's definitely there. And you're absolutely sure he noticed it, too.

He said those words so much and so often that he soon made a habit out of it. After some time, it didn't really matter to him if you responded or not—the latter solely implies that you were already fast asleep, which normally happens when he comes home late like today.

Juza took off his coat and slowly hung it on the rack, carefully tiptoeing his way to the dark as to not make any unnecessary noise. He prepared himself for the moment he is going to shiver from the room temperature—it is often cold downstairs in the middle of the night, Juza is painfully aware of this because of his occasional snacking on sweets whenever he wakes up during the ungodly hours. That happens more often than he would like to admit, and although he tries to keep quiet about his midnight kitchen raids, you will find out the next morning anyways.

Really... how would it not be awfully obvious, when you swore that you brought home a dozen of cupcakes from work without eating a single piece, only for half of them to suddenly disappear the moment you wake up?

Juza didn't fail to notice how the floor was unusually warm in the middle of the night, the current room temperature more comfortable than he anticipated. The heater isn't supposed to be turned on around this time—that rule is applicable to all of the rooms in the house except the master bedroom, that is.

Did you forget to turn it off before going to sleep?

He let out a curious hum as he approached the dining room. This was one of the rare days when he was too tired to even think of getting some sweets from the fridge—he should turn off the heater first before he retires for the night by your side. That was his only plan, at least not until he picked up soft, muffled voices from the living room. He doesn't recall you texting him earlier about having any visitors, and even if you did, it still doesn't make sense when all the lights were turned off.

Puzzled, he took a peek at the living room in order to figure out what was going on, his confusion getting the best of him.

To Juza's surprise, the voices he heard were coming from the television. It was running the old season of a variety show that he recalled got you way too invested, you eventually felt the need to record all of its episodes during the weekdays. It was the same series you binge watch every Friday night when you're off work with nothing to worry about for the next day.

Most of the time, if not all, Juza joins in your marathon just for the sake of it, and as time passes he unwittingly gets as engrossed as you. It was to the extent that his normal sleeping schedule that he has miraculously maintained for years started to get messed up during weekends. Gradually losing track of time, he always stayed up with you to watch all the recent episodes non-stop, at least that was the case until the last recording finishes playing. Almost every marathon ends with the both of you being panicky despite the sleepiness invading your systems, dawning into the unfortunate realization that the sun is about to rise in a few hours.

You were asleep on the sofa, your body using up majority of the space as you faced the dimly-lit screen. The soft breathings were barely audible, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with the low-volumed beats of the advertisement running on the television. You wore your pair of oversized purple polka-dotted pajamas, the ones you claimed that were definitely not your favorite—pretty doubtful however, considering that you always wore that specific pair of pajamas first and foremost whenever you finish doing the laundry.

The locks of your hair splayed messily on the throw pillows behind you, your figure tightly hugging a certain bolster pillow that Juza swore you brought downstairs from the master bedroom. You didn't fall asleep on purpose, which was apparent from one of your arms awkwardly stretching over your head, your hand dangling on the side of the sofa.

Juza shook his head in resignation. You're going to complain about your shoulder being stiff tomorrow if you stay that way, idiot.

He silently went his way towards your side, fully intent on fixing your position so he would be able to properly carry you to your side of the bed, all while doing his best not to disturb you on your peaceful slumber. Before he could do any of that however, he stopped right in front of your resting figure, kneeling eye-level to your face as he closely observed your relaxed expression.

The soft glow of the television highlighted every contour on your features. The wrinkles between your eyebrows were growing more prominent from the emotional strain you were experiencing at times. Just a few nights ago, Juza recalled you ranting to him about the things that happened to you at work, the frustration in your voice clearly building up as you spoke. The same wrinkles on your forehead creased, your eyebrows digging deeper in every single word you uttered. It wasn't like you to blow up, so Juza figured it was something serious—he will still listen to you either way, regardless if what you'll say is of great importance, or just pure nonsense that came out of nowhere.

You need a good rest, the stress was clearly taking a toll on you—you deserve to take a break more than he does. That was why the last thing he expected to see today is you waiting for him.

Juza sighed. It wasn't necessary for you to do this.

He already texted you that he was most likely going home late due to mishaps in his workplace, which was indirectly a gentle reminder that you did not have to wait for him to come home. Juza always got home in a particular hour so whenever he had to work overtime, the unavoidable guilt always weighed heavily in his chest. He appreciates the fact that you always understood his actions, no matter what the reason was behind it.

"You didn't have to wait." Juza immediately told you as soon as he saw you still downstairs—it was when he got home late for the first time. That time, you also fell asleep in the living room while waiting for him to come back with your phone on your chest—you left the screen turned on by accident, displaying the text messages you and Juza shared. There was a recent message of him telling you to go to sleep, though it remained unread as you were out like a light before you even had the chance to see it.

"I know." You replied drowsily, your tone impulsively confident as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Juza sent you an inquisitive gaze as you yawned on the sofa, stretching your arms to relieve the soreness of your body from falling asleep in another odd position. Your sleep-addled brain refused to let you think of a good response despite all that, so with all of your remaining energy that night, you gave him a lazy smile as you peeked at him through your drooping eyelids. "But I wanted to."

Your sincere but somehow dopy response told him that this wouldn't be the last time you'll be doing this—he is positive you'll attempt to stay awake if he is once again unable to leave work on time. If he was being completely honest, he felt bad whenever you did that—it wasn't his intention to trouble you by sacrificing hours of sleep for him, which he was sure you definitely needed.

That simple act that you did so often didn't make him less grateful of your patience towards him. If anything, it just gave him more reasons to love you, even though the list is already longer than necessary, ranging from your tiniest, adorable habits to the considerate, thoughtful personality of yours—it was frankly a complete difference to how you managed to draw him in by brute force.

Juza knew right from the start how stubborn you were when it comes to things that mattered to you, so whenever he has to go home late, he is subconsciously aware that you'll pay no heed on what he said about not having to wait for him. Even though that's the case, every time he arrives really late at night, your sleeping figure always manages to catch him off-guard.

"You didn't have to wait." Juza whispered, a soft smile crawling its way onto his lips. His hand instinctively reached out to your cheek, something he typically did before he goes to sleep every night. A part of him was unwilling to pull away, his touch lingering much longer than usual—he stayed like that for a few more moments, barely noticing your free hand extending to his.

"Juza?"

Your eyed opened, clearly in a daze as you stared at him absentmindedly. He only hummed in acknowledgement, observing your eyes shining from the brightness of the television screen. Despite waking up moments ago, you still find it in yourself to lace your fingers together with his, your expression crinkling from the beam forming on your lips. "Welcome back."

He gives your hand a light squeeze. "I'm home."

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! juza #juza hyodo #hyodo juza #a3! x reader #ok y'all in all honesty #THIS WAS SO EMBARRASSING TO WRTIE #ngl idk why either...#i had to stop writing for no one knows how many...#plaes send help..pleas e

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write-like-you-mean-it · 3 years

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Glass is a Fickle Item: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

Only two days into the tournament and our little staff was starting to get an understanding of when the crowds would storm No Doze. The high school students and working class folks would come in the morning or mid afternoon after class had ended. Teachers would follow within the next hour. This has been the schedule ever since Carrie opened this Café three years ago.

Harper, a new teenage hire, had gone to the tournament to get to a schedule of games after the first day of a huge rush. We hung the schedule in the break room; not to tell us when the games were but when there were breaks. Volleyball fanatics flooded to local businesses whenever there was more than 10 minutes in-between major games.

Today was going to be a busy day because there were long pauses between the main matches. This caused a lot of our glassware to be left out on tables, in the hands of guests, or sitting next to those who have been done for an hour.

“You really should go pick up some of our glasses,” called Carrie from the frothier machine. Harper was watching over her to learn how to make the drinks. “Harper can take cash until you get back.”

I sigh. Busy days combined with sports fans make a bad combination. One wrong game and they have lost all their self-control. Yelling at baristas became an occupational hazard; especially whenever you tried to take empty cups from them.

A few of the customers force their empty cups onto my platter. It was starting to become a pile of dirty dishes that would need to be cleaned quickly. A sigh escaped my lips before I went to the back corner of the café. A few friends were talking with plastic cups held up to their lips. One guy was chugging his drink while actively scrolling through his phone. The last guy sat in the corner with his laptop open and a cup sitting on the edge of the table.

As much as I don’t normally bother with customers when they are working, our lack of dishware was concerning. “Sir, are you done with your drink,” I ask the man typing on his computer. He stops for a moment and looks up at me.

“Yes I am,” he said without looking up from his computer. “I should have brought it up sooner. I’m sorry.” His fingers didn’t leave the keyboard as he spoke.

I picked up the glass and balanced it against the rest of the perched dishes. “It’s alright sir,” I say. “You seem busy. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

For a moment, his fingers stop typing to look up at me. His face seemed expressionless; yet, there was some element of observation. “You shouldn’t be sorry about doing your job.” A smile crossed his face which I mirrored. It was as if I was betwixt into his pull. Part of me wanted to find more reasons to talk with him but the weight on my hand was getting too much. I was about to go back to my gathering of porcelain when a loud noise echoed across the small café.

“Akaashi!” called someone from the door. Both the man and mine attention was dragged to the bolstering white-haired guy in his volleyball uniform. “You left the stadium?”

A sigh left the lips of the man as he shut his laptop. “Kotaro, I thought we talked about this. I was to meet you here after you got done with your game.”

“But Akaashi, I wanted you to interview the rest of my teammates.” The wandering eyes of people had dispersed as the player finally calmed down his voice. I stepped back to give the two space to talk. I was going to take this as my cue to get back behind the bar until I was held captive in his eyes. “Oh, I see what happened. Why did you tell me that you got a girlfriend.”

“Oh no-”

“We’re not-” Our sentences were mixed with each other as we both tried to explain the situation.

“I’m just the waitress at this cafe,” I say as I finally get over my initial stuttering. “I was picking up his drink. That’s all.”

A smirk fell upon the player’s lips. “That’s all huh.” We both nod our heads.

“Yes, Bokuto,” said Akaashi. His voice was a firm, authoritarian one that made my heart skip a small beat. “That’s all that happened.”

Bokuto looked between us and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.’ Then you would be against me getting her number.” The two men locked eyes. It was a stalemate between these two friends. Who was going to give up their facade first. “You would be okay with that, right Akaashi?”

The writer held his impassive face. The only time he broke was when he turned back to the closed laptop on the table. All of us were at a deadlock for who would speak first. I decided it was my turn. “I need to get back to the bar. These dishes are getting heavy, after all.”

I take a step back before hitting a person that stood up behind me. My balance was thrown off and I started tumbling towards the table of two men. Akaashi was the first one to react. His hands held onto the tray’s base as he picked up the tray before it was a shattered mess on the floor.

As we held the tray in between our hands, our eyes locked on each other. I could feel the breath leave my lungs as I could see a mix of fear along with adrenaline deep within the blank look.

“I’m so sorry,” said the disembodied voice behind me. I was too consumed to think about the person I collided with.

“Are you okay?” Akaashi asked. “That could’ve been a terrible trip.”

My whole body felt like the thermostat was turned up to the hottest setting or I’d been in the sun too much. “Y-yeah,” I said while taking back the tray. “I’m alright. Thank you for that.” As much as I wanted to walk away from the situation, my legs wouldn’t allow me.

A chuckle turned our attention away from each other. “Seems like the universe wants you two to be together too.”

“Bokuto,” hisses Akaashi. “Cut it out.”

“Awe, is Akaashi nervous?” teases the owl.

Our eyes meet one more time before both of us turn away. If I wasn’t too busy with hiding my own burning face, I would have seen the blush still on his. Without saying a word, I walk to the bar. I wasn’t about to go back out with those two still here.

‘I’m taking a small break, Carrie,” I call while setting down the dishes in the sink. I had to get out of the situation or either of them would realize how loud my heart was beating or how on fire my skin felt.

I walked back to the bathroom except a hand held onto my shoulder. I turned back to see it was Akaashi once again. “Ignore him,” said the man. “Bokuto means well. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I promise that I’m alright. Thank you for checking on me.” Again, I stood there unable to move. It was as if he was my medusa. “I-I was wondering if I could give you my number.” The words were out of my mouth before my mind could process them. “That is if you’re single or want my number.”

“Yes.” His response was quick. Almost too quick. He pulled out his phone and gave it to me. “I’d love to keep in touch with you.”

I take his phone and put my number in it. By my name, I put a pink heart as a reminder of who I am. As soon as he got his phone back, he was texting someone. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Hey, Akaashi, did you get your number or do I have to make you jealous again?” said the volleyball player from a table next to us. Akaashi turned his attention to his friend.

“No. I got her number. Now let’s get back so I can interview whoever on your team. Didn’t you say the Miya twins were finally reunited. I may want to get Otsumu’s view on his new recipe.”

Bokuto sighed before following his friend. “At least promise me that you’ll take her somewhere nice before I have to go to the next tournament. Sometimes you get a little too much into your work.”

Akaashi raised his hand as if to do a scout’s honor. “I promise to take her to dinner. Now let’s get out of here. I’ve been embarrassed a little too much today.” He practically had to drag his friend out of the café. Still, my heart would not stop beating with adrenaline for the rest of the day.

Haikyuu Masterlist

(This series is a choose your own adventure. Pick your favorite man or all of them. I will try to make as many of them as possible with continuations. So far, there is Oikawa, Sugawara, Tuskishima, Kageyama, Hinata, and Akaashi. If you have a suggestion or comment, please message me!!)

#hq akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi/reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #COFFEE SHOP AU #akaashi x reader #bokuto #a writes #no doze cafe

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a-master-procrastinator · 3 years

Text

Darth Malgus Server Huttball Event

It’s official, guys! I’m arranging a meeting for a Huttball match in a friendly, non-judging company.

You! Yes, you, a person reading this. Looking for something fun to do with strangers from this hellsite friends? Let me offer you Huttball, but less deadly. Want to give PvP a try but don’t want to get laughed at? Great, this event exactly what you need. Never played PvP before? Me neither! Let’s mess around and find out! Couldn’t care less about the game, but is interested in seeing how it goes? You can come and enjoy the show without participating!

It’s more likely going to be messy and awkward and not perfect since it’s my first event, but it’s going to be fun for sure.

The event is going to happen on Darth Malgus server on January 6th roughly at 4 pm GMT/11 pm EST (first round) and 8 pm GMT/3 pm EST (second round, if there is enough people and I’m not entirely tired by that time). I’m still not quite sure how long is it going to be (the usual huttball matches have timer for 15 minutes, but for a match in stronghold the rules are different), up to 3 matches for now.

Your faction or class don’t really matter - the most important thing is being patient with other players and not shame them or laugh at them for not being PvP beasts (or making any kind of mistakes, really). We are here for fun, not competition.

And a special treat - since Giradda the Hutt is not sponsoring this match, you’re allowed to kick the ball!

The details are under the cut. And don’t get afraid of all the information, it’s actually easier than it sounds. After all, it’s in my best interests to keep things easy.

1. To get acquainted with the rules and gameplay of the Huttball, I recommend reading this page (though you wouldn’t need absolutely everything from it) and watching Swtorista’s video. You can also watch videos of people playing the Huttball to have an idea of how it looks and works. Or you can just skip it all and just remember the basics (football but with blasters and lightsabers).

Important thing to note, though, since we’re doing a friendly match in Rishi stronghold, it’s won’t be a classic match and some of the things are going to be different:

- instead of 6, a team needs 10 scores to win the match;

- there won’t be any traps (fire, poisons, etc) and helpers;

- as far as I’m aware, there is no timer for stronghold matches

I will make a test match before the event to test the differences, so do not worry about that. If there is anyone who wants to help with testing, message me here, because I really could use some help since it requires more than 1 person.

2. I’m thinking about using Discord for communication, since the only option the game offers for cross-faction chatting is /say command, which I will use to for the folks without Discord, but it’s not perfect. I’ll give the link on the day of the event. No voice chat needed (I’d only embarrass myself), just texting (though i don’t rule it out).

3. So, I said before that faction doesn’t matter. Well, not exactly.

Turns out, even if you and player of the opposite faction choose the same team (Frogdogs, for example), they still cannot form a group to help healers track their teammates’ health. I’m not even sure they can heal teammates from the opposite faction, so ideally we want to have the same amount of players from both factions, Empire and Republic. I can partially help with that since I have characters on both sides, but anyone who has the same opportunity, keep in mind that I may ask you to help with that by switching to a character of the opposite side. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.

4. About level: the stronghold offer a bolster (you’ll be upgraded to level 75 and given good stats), so it shouldn’t matter. However, it does bot give you all the abilities and passives, you’ll have to work with what you currently have. This is not a death sentence, of course, and you can be whatever level you want (but please don’t be 10 or 15. You will die a lot and it’s not fun). Plus, in PvP matches things like stuns, movement, defensives, slowing the enemies are helpful and usually are granted at level 30 and higher, so consider it.

I’ll make a post on the day of the event to specify who you need to whisper to get to the stronghold. Yes, I decided to not put it on the public listing because the purpose of the event is having a friendly company, and even though I’m sure no one is interested in coming to my SH, better safe than sorry.

5. When you arrive, you’ll be placed here:

I don’t mind you running around and enjoying the stronghold (as long as you’re not making others wait for you and you only), though there isn’t much to look at just yet. When you’re ready, you’ll need to come to the arena.

Use this panel to travel to the Patrol Carrier

It will teleport you here (and may gift you with a little mount bug)

Go to this lift and choose Sky Deck

Right next to where you load in, you’ll find a bolsterizer (on that later).

There you can go to the arena and morally prepare for the match.

Don’t forget to take screenshots with pretty trees!

6. And about the bolster - this thing will help us to make things relatively fair. Make sure you have a piece of gear with stats in every slot (tacticals don’t count) and press the button. Poof, yourhealthsgone. No, it’s normal, just regenerate your health and all is fine!

And yes, what I said about coming and jut enjoying the show - it’s not a joke. You can find a fine spot and watch as we try to get anything done.

P.S. If this event goes well, I may organize again some time later. Who knows, maybe we’ll make more friends!

#whew #well i hope i haven't driven people away with complicated intsructions #it's really simpler that it seems #if anything i'll be causing more trouble than anyone else (bc i'm a ball of anxious nerves)#swtor #swtor event #swtor huttball

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Rebel Hours (15/18)

Kwon Jieun always fit her parents’ image of the “perfect” daughter… at least to their knowledge. Away from prying eyes she was like any other girl living life to the fullest doing what she wants. When a little someone named Bang Chan comes into her life priorities are changed, mistakes are made, and her life finally becomes her own.

Angst this chapter

w.c: 2.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a week to get everything in place. Having to make calls and pull strings for the plan, on top of having to keep up with my school work, left me little time to do much else. I texted Chan when I could and he understood, especially with the situation at hand. He’s tried to figure out what exactly I was planning but I wanted to keep him in the dark about most of it. I’m not proud of what I have planned but it’s what needs to be done in order for my parents to listen. Knowing Chan, if he knew how extreme this was he definitely wouldn’t let me do it. Family is a big part of his life and he would hold himself accountable if I lost mine for what I’m about to do.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of my car and head to my parents’ front door. My nerves were buzzing and it didn’t help that I basically had to schedule an appointment to see my own parents. Mother took the chance to berate me for the "extra work" I caused them before actually giving me a date and time. At the door one of the maids greeted me and escorted me to father’s office before leaving me. I straightened my blazer to give me a smidge more strength after taking a deep breath and entering the room. Father seated in his chair and mother stood beside him, their glares followed me as I took the seat across from them.

“What does an unfilial child want? Going as far as making an appointment,” mother scoffed.

“It’s only fair to do since you both decided to treat my life as an object for transactions.”

“You-”

“Mother please. I think we both know there is some truth to those words.”

“Insolent child, how dare you?!”

Father boomed, slamming his hand on his desk. Internally I flinched but on the outside I leveled my gaze with my father’s as sparks flew in the air between us. Focus on the goal, no feelings. After silent affirmation I readdressed my parents.

“Let us discuss what I came here for, my unofficial engagement to Kyunghoon behind my back.”

“Look at this behavior! If we didn’t act, who knows what kind of trouble you would get yourself in. Do you know how much work was put in to cover for you and save your father’s reputation?”

“Mother the articles were harmless aside from a few small comments. There wasn’t much you needed to fix anyways but I will reiterate what I spoke of last time. I am in a relationship and will not be accepting the matchmaking you’ve arranged and definitely not Kyunghoon,” I bit back.

“This is precisely why we made the decision to pair you two up. Kyunghoon and his family are thankfully still willing to agree and that’s what you’re going to do. Do you understand?”

“I understand clearly but that does not change my response. Mother, if you continue to push this matter, I will have to make an extreme move that I believe neither of you would enjoy.”

“Are you threatening your parents right now? Children really are shameless these days… We’ve given you every connection you have, who would dare go against us?”

“Actually there were quite a few interested parties, father. People want to know if things are as perfect behind closed doors as they seem in public.”

I reached into my purse, pulling out three business cards, and displayed them on father's desk. With trembling eyes, he picked up and read each card before crushing them in his fist. Mother stumbled back to lean against the wall, shocked by my brazen behavior as I continued.

“The interview dates are set. As long as you drop the engagement and allow me to live my life as I wish, without intervening, these interviews will be nothing more than good press to bolster your campaign.”

“You wicked child! Now you want to bite the hand that fed you?! Fine, live as you wish but do not call us your parents because we did not raise a child like you!”

“I apologize for going to the extreme but I keep my words, and I swore to myself I would protect my happiness. I hope one day you’ll accept me for who I am rather than be seen as a tool to support your campaign.”

“Get out. I no longer want to see your face.”

My father’s words were harsh and short, cutting deep within my heart. I got up and bowed to both of them before turning to walk out but then I stopped. I reached into my purse and contemplated for a moment as I fiddled with the flash drive in the pocket. Walking back to my parents, I carefully placed the flash drive on the desk.

“There is a strong reason why I am against Kyunghoon. I understand that you’ve disowned me but if you’re ever curious about the girl who was your daughter and that reason, it’s all in here.”

Once I was safely in my car, all tension left my body as frustrated tears poured from my eyes. So many questions spun in my mind. Why were my parents like this? Why don’t they trust me… If I was honest, all that "exposing the truth” was all a bluff. I didn’t have the heart to throw away my parents’ hard work. I’ve seen enough to know that I wasn’t the only one the campaigns were having a toll on. I understand just how much time and effort was put into this, it hurt the most that they believed I was ungrateful and spiteful enough to ignore all of that. All I asked of them was for a little room to just be me, for once in my twenty-two years of life.

I don’t know how long I sat there like that until my tears finally exhausted themselves. When I looked in the mirror I was a mess as I covered my closed eyes in an attempt to ease the stinging the tears had caused. I needed to get rid of the puffiness and the red rimming my eyes ASAP. I’m meeting Chan later and he’ll already be able to tell that something happened, I don’t want him worrying too much if he sees I cried too. Luckily by the time I reached his university most traces of my tears were gone. As I walked onto the campus grounds Chan called and directed me to his location through the phone. The moment I laid eyes on his figure I put my phone down and weaved through the crowd as I knocked into him, wrapping my arms around him and letting out a sigh.

"That bad?"

I nod into his chest in reply. He gave me a squeeze before gently pulling away to examine my face. Looking into his eyes, I pulled a smile hoping he didn't notice the lingering puffiness. Thankfully he didn't as a soft smile graced his face.

"If it's that bad did the plan work? It's okay if it didn't, we can figure something else out."

"I'm definitely out of my engagement and they’ll leave us alone so I would say it worked."

"You must've had a hard time, you look drained. Wanna grab a coffee?"

"Yes please."

The coffee and just spending time with Chan helped soothe my guilt. Guilt for doing that to my parents and guilt for not being transparent with my boyfriend. Trust me I know it's gonna blow up in my face, the thought constantly nags me in the back of my mind, but there was no other way. Chan would definitely try to find another option but with the rumor and not knowing how long I had before they made things official, I needed to take the fastest and most effective route. Ignoring the little voice in my head, my attention was drawn back to the boy in front of me. We’re together and there’s nothing trying to break us up. Enjoy it… and that’s exactly what I did.

Two weeks fly by and it feels almost too serene. With my recent track record, I was expecting some type set back or accident or some drama to come up and send a ripple through the peaceful pond. Aside from classes and the interviews where I put on smiles to show I’m still the good child, explaining how supportive my parents are to me trying new looks, everything has been… normal. I’ve even had time to ponder a certain four letter word. The idea has danced across my mind on a few occasions but I’ve never really examined the thought. Am I in love with Bang Chan? From the indescribable force that draws me to him to the spirit that kindled itself in my resigned heart… love doesn't seem that far off but it seems as though fate didn't want me to dwell on the thought. Chan sent an urgent message to meet him… did something happen? As anxiety and fear swirled in my chest, I rushed over to the park between our two campuses. When my eyes landed on him, concern flared at his listless form as I moved closer to him.

"Hey what happened? Why did you need to see me so urgently? Are you okay?"

"So were you just going to keep this from me too? I thought we were over this."

Shit. No no no no no. I didn't tell anyone, how did he find out? The only people who knew were me and-

"Did my parents come looking for you?"

"They did but that's not the problem. When we got together we agreed, no more secrets."

"I know we said that but if I told you I knew how you were going to react-"

"If you knew how I would react, the more reason you should’ve told me! We could've found another way."

"There was no other way Chan! There was no time for an alternative. My parents don't listen until there is something on the line."

"It makes sense," he scoffs, "why you were so upset that day… you abandoned your family for-"

"Let's get one thing straight. They were the ones who disowned me because I wanted to take control of my life rather than let them make all of my decisions," I cut him off.

"But you did so by threatening them. How else would they react to their child acting like that?"

"If they took the chance to know me, they would’ve known. No matter how angry I am I would never put their livelihood at stake. I know how hard they worked to get my father where he is."

"Exactly Jieun and because of me you’re not only hurting your parents but also yourself… "

"If that's what it takes then so be it. I'm more scared of losing you than upsetting my parents. They will get over it if they want to keep me as their daughter," I stated stubbornly.

"But I'm not okay with that. How do you think that makes me feel? Knowing that I’m the reason you and your parents don't speak anymore?"

"That was their choice. All I could do was oblige with their request and let them know my door’s still open. Those were their actions that you have no control over, it's not your fault."

"I just- so much has happened and I don't know if I can keep doing this."

It was like the world slowed down. My heart screamed at me to tell him how losing him would be like losing a piece of myself and I wouldn’t recover… but my mind knew better. I’ve been in his place before so I should understand but I need to be sure what was at stake.

"Chan you don't mean…"

"No? I don't know, I just need time to figure things out. Even if I get over being between you and your parents, there is still the fact that you kept this from me."

"I messed up, I know that, and I’m sorry but Chan please," I begged.

I didn’t mean to say that but his doubt, although well deserved, cut deep within me and I lost my resolve for a second. It's just scary when you realize you’re in love and now you might just as quickly lose it. The desperation in my voice was evident and there was enough running through his mind, he doesn't need to add my wreck of an emotional state to his problems. Pulling my internal state together, my feet stepped away from him as I gave him a slow nod.

"I'm sorry for that behavior just now, it’s nothing. Take all the time you need, you know how to find me when you’re ready.”

I tried to give him a smile but I could tell by how his eyes softened that he didn’t buy it. We stood there in silence for a moment, unsure how to end this conversation? Argument? Do you just walk away? My mind was a swirling mess when his voice cut through the chaos.

"It’s getting late you should head home…”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #my writing #rebel hours

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avatar-the-last-jerkbender · 4 years

Text

Kindergarten Husband

- Zutara Week Day 1: Reunion -

AO3 Link

Present day

He wouldn’t stop staring at her.

Katara wasn’t quite sure if he was spacing out or simply plotting to kill her, but his gaze continued to bore holes into her back as she stood in line to order her coffee.

The man was sitting in a corner, the laptop and textbook on his table forming a small barrier between him and the rest of the world. She also noticed a cup of coffee set aside and a notebook with a red cover, but all those things were pushed to the back of her mind as he continued to stare at her with a frustrated look on his face.

It was creepy.

The hair on the back of Katara’s neck prickled as she told the cashier her order, and she glimpsed the man finally go back to work out of the corner of her eye.

However, this respite was only temporary as he started staring again with a constipated-looking expression on his face while she waited for her coffee. Katara thought about the pepper spray in her messenger bag, preparing to whip it out and use it even in the midst of all these people.

This fact helped her bolster enough courage to finally approach the staring man. Katara slammed her paper cup heavily on the table, watching him snap out of his trance and jerk backwards.

“Why are you staring at me?” she spat out, turning her coldest glare on him.

To her surprise, he looked immediately apologetic, a faint blush forming on his unscarred cheek. “Oh, I’m sorry. You just looked really familiar. Sorry,” he repeated.

As the man nervously scratched at the back of his neck, Katara finally took a good look at him. He was right about the familiarity. The mismatched golden eyes and messy black hair seemed to tug at something in the depths of her memory, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, previous hesitation diminished..

“I have pepper spray,” Katara said in lieu of a response, pulling out the empty chair opposite him and taking a seat. She liked to trust her gut in these kinds of situations, and right now her gut was telling her there was nothing to fear from this man. Although the initial staring was a bit disconcerting, there didn’t seem to be anything malicious about his presence.

“Okay?” The man raised an eyebrow, finally shutting the laptop in front of him and flipping the notebook closed. Katara got a glimpse of notes on the Krebs Cycle, with various diagrams and highlighted phrases.She was pleasantly surprised- though his handwriting looked like a scrawled mess, the notes themselves seemed well-organized and easy to read.

“So did we have a class together or something?” The second the question leaves her lips, Katara realizes that there’s no way this was a possibility. While their university was by no means small, there was no way she would have forgotten a face like this guy’s. Not just because of the scar either- he had some of the most distinct eyes she had ever seen and fantastic cheekbones.

The man frowns, seemingly reaching the same conclusion. He seems to do that a lot, Katara reflects, noting the tiny crease that forms above his nose. “Maybe? What’s your major?”

“Biology. Pre-med.”

“Me too, actually. But I don’t think we had any classes together.”

Katara sips at her coffee, struggling not to make a face. She had forgotten to grab sugar in her haste to confront the man. “Me neither. Sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

Once again he gets flustered. “I, uh. Zuko. I apologize, I should have introduced myself first-”

“It’s fine,” she cuts in. While the name is definitely unusual, Katara’s 100% sure she’s heard it before. “I’m Katara. I came here from Boston- maybe we went to school together?”

Zuko shakes his head, shaggy bangs falling into his eyes. “That’s unlikely. I’ve lived in California almost my whole life, but I was in Boston until kindergarten.”

Kindergarten. The memory hit her suddenly, bits and pieces from over a decade ago resurfacing in her mind..

*** 13 Years Ago

“Let’s get married.”

Katara stared at Zuko for a second before letting out a shriek. “Ew. No! You have cooties! I’m not doing that!”

“If you didn’t want to, you could just say that!” He shouted back, his voice harsh but tears welling in his eyes.

The sight of the boy crying made Katara feel a surge of guilt at her knee-jerk reaction. In her defense, she didn’t expect to be proposed to the second she stepped off the playground slide. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled before wrapping him in a hug. “I was just surprised. I will marry you!”

She knew that people who liked each other a lot would get married. That’s what her parents did, and as far as she knew, she definitely liked Zuko. He always drew her pictures when they had free time and helped her dig for roly polys during recess. No, Katara definitely wouldn’t mind being married to him.

Zuko beams, previous sadness forgotten. “Yay! How do we get married?”

Katara frowns at him. “I don’t know. Didn’t you just ask me? Shouldn’t you know?”

“I do know!” he snaps. “When people get married…” Zuko ponders for a second before reaching a conclusion. “They kiss. Yeah, they kiss.”

“They KISS?!” Once again she shrieks, but this time Zuko claps his hands over his ears. “That’s so gross.” Whenever Sokka saw their parents kissing, he would make retching noises and groan about ‘oogies’. While Katara’s reaction was nowhere near as extreme, she definitely understood why he acted that way.

“I didn’t make up this rule!”

“Fine!” Acting on impulse, Katara put her palms to either side of his face and pulled him closer to her. Their lips met in a short kiss, but so did their foreheads, colliding with a distinct ‘thunk’.

“Ow!” Zuko said, rubbing at the slight red welt that appeared. “You have a really hard head.”

“Yours is harder!” she fires back, affronted. “That hurt. But we’re married now.” Katara smooshes her lips together between her thumb and pointer finger, trying to see if they felt any different now that she and Zuko had kissed.

He wrinkles his nose. “Did anything change?”

Katara pauses, taking stock of the situation. Other than the throbbing at the front of her head, she feels the same. “No,” she admits. “Being married feels the same as being friends.”

“Yeah, same. Do you want to push me on the swings?”

Later when she goes home, Katara excitedly tells her family that she is now married. Sokka, in all his first grade glory, makes barfing noises while her parents smile gently.

The marriage lasted a record breaking three months, only ending when Zuko moved away the summer before first grade, slowly becoming a distant memory as time flew by.

*** Present day

“You’re that Katara?” he asks, eyes wide with incredulity.

Honestly, she can’t even blame him for being surprised,

“I guess so.”

“I don’t even remember much. We kissed didn’t we?” Zuko frowns, trying to recollect their short lived marriage.

Katara winces, a phantom pain briefly flicking across her forehead. “I wouldn’t really call that a kiss. But it was so long ago. I’m pretty sure there were bugs involved…”

“Were they roly polys? I remember messing with those a lot in kindergarten.” He makes a pinching motion with his hands, as though sizing up the insect.

“Probably.” She takes a sip of her neglected coffee, trying not to spit it out. God, it’s even worse cold. “It’s crazy though. That after 13 years of no contact, we run into each other. At the same university with the same major, no less.”

Zuko hums thoughtfully, as Katara digs through her bag to pull out her phone. “It’s definitely a happy coincidence. But I personally don’t believe in those. Maybe it was fate?” he says.

She rolls her eyes in response and unlocks her phone before opening the contacts page and pushing it towards him. “Could I have your number? I liked talking to you, and it would be nice to catch up more.”

“Didn’t you think I was creepy?” Zuko gives a tiny smile, tapping his phone number into the space provided.

“You deserved it,” Katara sniped back, though not without humor. “Just staring at me like that. It’s not normal.”

“I already told you I was sorry,” he said, passing the phone back to her. “I can promise it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, okay. You should probably get back to studying anyways.” She eyes the thick books on the table in front of her and makes a mental note to finish her own biology reading when she reaches her dorm.

Zuko nods. “Sure. It was nice to see you again though. Just text me whenever, okay?” He reaches for his notebook, once again flipping open to his alarmingly organized notes.

“Yeah.” Katara gets up, grabbing her half-empty cup to toss it. “I’ll do that. It was nice to see you again too.”

#zutara #zuko #katara #zuko x katara #zutara week #zutara week 2020 #atla

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Note

what about reader is a student at Oxenfurt Academy but gets beaten and mistreated by one of her teachers until Jaskier, who stopped for a break and came to visit with Geralt, finds her crying and discovers the truth? A fluff thing with him comforting and protecting her and refusing to leave till he makes sure she doesn’t get that treatment again. Reader eventually starting to develop feelings for him? Thank you sm if you’ll do that!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,291Rating: G but TW for references to abuse of a student by a teacher (moderate, but still)Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Hey love, this is probably a total piece of fiction but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t toss out a quick note that if you or someone you know is being abused by a teacher or anyone else, please know that it’s not ok and if you need help you can always text 741741 (crisis text line) or reach out to someone you trust.

The words hurt worse than the bruises.

You were no stranger to physical pain, rough and tumble from a young age, though you wouldn’t pretend you hadn’t cried out when he hit you. No one heard or if they did nobody came. Maybe this was just the way things were done at Oxenfurt. Maybe cruelty was just a small price they were willing to pay to ensure results. His words had been harsher, more critical, confirming every fear and harsh thought you had about yourself. You’d kept a brave face, walking out of the room with your head held high and holding in your tears until you found someplace to hide. The large stone gargoyles that guarded the entrance to a long abandoned greenhouse had become your favorite spot to run away when you were overwhelmed and needed to cry. You took some comfort in the solitude though you were so terribly lonely. You were able to weep freely, sob without fear of judgment because no one but you probably even knew about this spot anymore.

“…most of my days when I studied here. Ah if those gargoyles could speak.”

A voice you did not know approached and you tried to quiet your crying.

“Yes it’s – oh!” the owner of the voice wove into view, stopping short when he saw you. His pale blue eyes took in the sight of you, red faced and teary and looking a mess, and without breaking eye contact he said over his shoulder, “Geralt you go on to the university, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

The unseen Geralt made a vague noise in response and then you assumed he left because the man approached you, his kind eyes filled with concern.

“Hello,” he said, “Having a rough day?”

You nodded, sniffling and trying to staunch the flow of tears that seemed endless. He crouched near you but not too close, trying not to scare you away.

“Something like that,” you said, trying to force a smile. He nodded and then he noticed the bruises on your knuckles and without thinking twice he brushed back the hair you’d tried to use to hide the mark on your face. His eyes widened and his lips drew into a thin line, taut with anger.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” you murmured.

“It’s not fine,” he insisted and then took a deep breath, forcing his voice calm, “This isn’t fine. Who did this to you?”

“It’s f-”

“Was it another student?”

You shook your head, worried he might go through the university and pull every single student before her to identify if she didn’t put that idea to rest immediately.

“So it was a professor,” he said, his voice lowering to a dark, husky pitch.

“Listen I don’t want to make any trouble,” you insisted.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, leaning in closer and wiping away some of the tears that still fell. The azure eyes stared into you with a gentle intensity, willing you to believe the words he spoke next; “You didn’t deserve this. There is nothing you could have done to make this ok. The only person to blame for this is the one who did it.”

At the fresh wave of tears inspired by his kind words he held open his arms in a welcoming gesture. Usually you wouldn’t have even considered crying in front of, let alone on, a total stranger. But there was something about this man that made you feel safe and so you dove into his arms and let him hug you tight while you cried. He murmured comforting words. Never saying “it’s ok” because you both knew it wasn’t. Not trying to tell you to “stop crying” or “hush” because he wanted you to cry and to let out everything you were feeling. But when you were done crying he gently pulled you back from his tear-stained doublet and fixed you with a very serious expression.

“I need you to tell me who did this,” he said.

“Why do you care? Do you work here?” you asked, though he didn’t look old enough to be a professor.

“No, in fact I graduated not long ago. But I have a little pull and a big friend and I am not leaving this campus until whoever did this is taken to task. Frankly he’ll be lucky if he leaves with his head,” the last words were bitten out harshly and you enjoyed his ferocity a bit more than you expected. You took a deep breath and told him the professor’s name. He scoffed and made a little comment under his breath, something that suggested he wasn’t surprised to learn the identity of the offender, and he rose from his seat, extending a hand to you. You took it and squeezed it for comfort as you marched closer through the halls. You feared people would call you a snitch or say that it was just more proof that you didn’t belong, but Jaskier’s firm grip and steadfast march helped bolster you and remind you that what he said was true. If it had happened to anyone else you would have been horrified. You were allowed to be just as offended and angry on your own behalf. You deserved the same care and respect from yourself that you gave to other people.

“Ah, Geralt! We have a mission,” Jaskier announced as they approached a large man in black leather whose yellow eyes and silver hair were shocking but oddly beautiful. His eyes flicked from the clasped hands to the mark on your face and he looked back at Jaskier.

“Do we know their name?” he asked.

“Oh I didn’t ask, I’m Jaskier by the way, this is Geralt, and you are?” Jaskier asked, turning to you.

“Y/N,” you answered.

“I meant the person we’re hunting,” Geralt said.

“Oh! Yes,” Jaskier replied, and gave Geralt the man’s name. Geralt nodded and began walking but Jaskier turned to you. “Stay here and I will be back soon.”

You sat on the little bench and waited as Jaskier ran after Geralt. You waited there for some time, expecting any moment to hear… something. Some screaming, maybe? Or maybe it had just been a test you’d failed. Or maybe you’d imagined him, a sweet fantasy of someone around who cared about you and wanted to make sure you were safe. You were about to leave when you saw Jaskier return.

“Where’s your friend?” you asked, rising to meet him.

“Ah he is informing the school that they are in need of a new professor,” Jaskier explained enigmatically. You didn’t’ see any blood spatter on him which was good but you did notice that his knuckles looked a bit darker than they had before.

“I can’t begin to thank you enough,” you began but he waved the words away.

“It was truly the least I could do. He couldn’t be allowed to keep doing that. You were very brave to tell me. Are you new here?” he asked. You nodded and he gave you a warm smile.

“I was new here once as well. I’m going to be in town for a bit as my friend works, could I show you around a bit? Let you in on all of Oxenfurt’s best kept secrets?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. Your heart flip-flopped a little but you tried not to read into his words too much. He was clearly just a very nice man, nothing more to it than that.

“I’d like that,” you said.

“Perfect,” he replied and then leaned in and gave you a little kiss on the cheek, pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes as he added, “It’s a date.”

#pcrthro #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #tw// abuse #reader request #hurt/comfort

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mikauzoran · 4 years

Text

Lukadrien: Nachtmusik Chapter Twenty-Six

A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) Chapter Twenty-Six: Synchronicity

It was the middle of June, and the weather was perfect. All Adrien wanted to do was lie out on the deck of the Liberty, basking in the luxurious warmth of the sun and the soft strumming of Luka’s guitar.

Luka was more than happy to have him. After all, Adrien was good company: quiet in a companionable way when words weren’t needed but always ready with some witty retort or astute piece of insight whenever Luka did feel like talking.

Their musical collaborations were fulfilling in a way Luka had never experienced with another musician. It was as if Adrien instinctively knew where Luka was going with a piece, and whenever Luka got stuck, Adrien always had the perfect suggestion to get him out of his creative slump. Adrien was a well of inspiration, a genuine muse.

After two and a half months of friendship, Luka found that he’d quickly moved from an affectionate crush on Adrien to deep devotion and adoration.

Adrien was fast becoming a staple in all aspects of Luka’s life from family dinners to evenings spent cuddling and watching movies to jam sessions and lying about the houseboat to one-on-one basketball and teaching Adrien to do chores. Adrien was filling up the nooks and crannies of Luka’s life.

Even when they weren’t together, Adrien was always on Luka’s mind. Luka would be out and about and see something in a shop window that made him think of the other teen. Someone would say something funny, and Luka would later text it to Adrien so that they could share the joke.

Adrien stayed in close contact too. Luka periodically got texts throughout the day, even if Adrien was busy, letting Luka know that he wasn’t ever far from Adrien’s thoughts either.

It felt so good to be that in sync with someone, so on the same wavelength.

Nothing had become official yet, and Luka wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Adrien viewed things between them in a romantic light…but the relationship was going well, so Luka decided to take the next step. He invited Adrien to meet and hang out with his friends.

Luka started with a small group from the music program at his university and then introduced Adrien to some of his classmates from the Literature Department. Luka took Adrien to a few of his concerts and let him mingle with his bandmates.

Adrien was a little shy at first with new people but still very friendly. Once a conversation started to flow, though, Adrien held his own well, often talking more than Luka himself.

It was reassuring to see his prospective partner getting along with the other people in Luka’s world. It made him wonder if soulmates really did exist because Adrien just…fit. In less than three months, Adrien had slipped into the grooves of Luka’s life to the point where Luka couldn’t remember how things had been before Adrien and couldn’t imagine things without him.

One Saturday at the end of the school year, a group from the Literature Department was congregating on the Liberty to review course material for the exam. It was during a time when Adrien was typically over, so Luka told him that he was free to join them but needn’t feel obligated, as the class content might be a little boring for someone not studying Literature.

Adrien surprised Luka by showing up anyway.

Luka’s classmates took turns teaching Adrien about different aspects of the pieces, authors, and literary movements that they had studied, and Adrien eagerly asked questions, giving the students a very thorough review that turned out to be objectively better and subjectively more fun than simply reviewing notes and passages from their texts like they had initially planned.

“You’re really interested in this, aren’t you?” Eugénie chuckled, giving Adrien a fond nudge. “Are you thinking about going into Literature in uni?”

Adrien blushed sheepishly, shaking his head. “No, not really. I mean, I love reading, but I wouldn’t want to formally study it.”

“Well, you fooled us,” Gérard laughed. “You seem like you’re soaking this up like a sponge. What’s up with all of the probing questions, then? You just helping us study?”

Adrien’s cheeks darkened further.

He shrugged, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiled. “Well, it is interesting…on top of being a good way to learn more about what Luka’s studying. I want to understand so that he can talk about this stuff with me without having to dumb it down.”

“Aww,” Hélène cooed. “Luka, your boyfriend is so sweet! Thierry never takes an interest in the things I care about. You’re so lucky,” she half-pouted.

Luka’s cheeks burst into flame like embers finding dry brush. “Well,” he hedged, “he is sweet, and I am lucky, but…we’re not dating.”

“Wait. Seriously?” Eugénie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Why not?”

Luka’s blush deepened as he averted his eyes, glancing longingly at the guitar propped against the wall by the drum set. His fingers twitched in agitation as dozens of possible answers to that question swirled around his head: because Adrien isn’t interested in guys, because what could Adrien Agreste possibly see in me, because he’s out of my league, because I don’t want to make things awkward and ruin our dynamic by asking him, because I don’t think he’s ready, because I’m afraid of messing it up and losing his friendship, because he’s still in love with someone else…

Adrien instantly picked up on how uncomfortable Luka was with the topic and rushed to take some of the pressure and attention off of his friend. “Does anyone want more of the chocolate lava cake?”

Gérard took mercy on Luka and helpfully raised his hand. “I could definitely go for seconds.”

Adrien scooped up Gérard’s plate and smiled sweetly at the girls. “How about drinks? Can I get anyone a refill?”

“Uh…I’ll just take water, please,” Hélène awkwardly replied.

“Me too, please,” Eugénie added uncertainly.

“Me three!” Gérard jumped in, even though his soda was still half full.

“Luka, could you please give me a hand?” Adrien requested with a practiced smile.

Luka readily acquiesced, following Adrien across the room to the kitchen.

Adrien set about cutting Gérard another slice of lava cake while Luka got out the bottle of Evian from the fridge and poured three glasses.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Luka whispered so quietly that his lips barely moved. He trusted that Adrien’s sharpened hearing would pick up the words.

Adrien turned to rest a hand on Luka’s arm, giving it a bolstering squeeze. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me,” Adrien assured, voice hushed but strong. “I mean, I do kind of act like your boyfriend, so it’s not like it’s a far-out conclusion to come to. I’m sorry, Luka.”

Adrien’s eyebrows curved in remorse and guilt, taking Luka completely by surprise.

“P5, what do you have to be sorry for?” he wondered, feeling like the ship beneath his feet had suddenly stopped rocking, leaving him off balance.

“Always hanging on you and teasing and flirting,” Adrien whispered back, brow furrowed, bottom lip jutting out slightly. “I didn’t think about how it might give other people the wrong idea. I promise I’ll tone it down when we’re in public going forward.”

If Luka were being totally honest, he would have to admit that Adrien’s affections were a guilty pleasure he savored. Other people seeing non-platonic motives in Adrien’s behaviour put Luka over the moon because that meant that he wasn’t just hallucinating or reading too much into things. It meant that maybe he had a chance. He was loath to lose a single touch, a single flirty line, a single puckish grin.

“You don’t have to do that,” Luka hastily countered, voice a little loud and high in pitch.

Adrien’s guilty expression turned into a puzzled one. “Are you sure? Luka, I saw how uncomfortable you were.”

“I was uncomfortable because I thought the topic made you uncomfortable,” Luka fibbed. “I’m used to straight people assuming that just because I’m bi, I’m automatically interested in every other guy in my age range. Besides…” Luka looked back down at the water glasses. “…it’s really flattering that someone would think you’d date me, so…” Luka cleared his throat. “…so, you don’t have to change anything. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks,” Adrien replied, but he was still frowning. “I’ll be touched about that in a moment, but, first…why did you say you’d be flattered if someone thought I’d date you as if I wouldn’t date you? Why wouldn’t I date you?”

Luka’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Meanwhile, Eugénie, Hélène, and Gérard were straining their ears to hear while, at the same time, trying very hard to look like they were studying their notes intently.

“Luka, you’re wonderful,” Adrien supplied when he saw that his friend was at a loss for words. “Anyone would be thrilled to date you.”

Luka wanted to say, “even you?”, but he was afraid of the answer. Part of him thought this sounded like confirmation that he should make his romantic interest known. Another part suspected a trap, like Luka would confess, but then Adrien would say something like, “oh. No. Sorry. When I said, ‘anyone would be thrilled to date you’, I didn’t mean me”.

“You’re the most perfect guy I’ve ever met,” Adrien continued, trying to build up Luka’s self-esteem.

“I’m not perfect,” was the first thing that Luka could get his wits together enough to say.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you were perfect. I said you were the ‘most perfect’, as in ‘most close to perfect’, so don’t talk down about yourself, okay? You’re always telling me that, so practice what you preach, okay?”

Luka nodded, a fond smile slowly blooming on his lips. “Thanks.”

Adrien winked, grabbing one of the water glasses as well as Gérard’s plate. “We good?”

Luka’s grin widened as he picked up the remaining two glasses and followed Adrien back over to the others. “Yeah. We’re good, Angel.”

“Okay!” Adrien called cheerfully as he set the plate and glass down in front of Gérard. “Someone explain Magic Realism to me. I don’t get it.”

The group reluctantly let go of the relationship drama and got back to work.

Eugénie, Hélène, and Gérard left a little over an hour later, brains successfully picked clean by Adrien.

Luka began collecting the dirty dishes, but Adrien shooed him away, insisting. “I’ll clean up. You go get your guitar and decompress.”

Luka blinked at Adrien. “Decompress?”

“Mmhm,” Adrien confirmed, gathering the forks before stacking the plates they’d eaten cake off of. “That thing you do after you’ve been around other people for too long.”

Adrien looked up and into Luka’s aquatic eyes. “Because being around other people for too long stresses you out, doesn’t it? So get your guitar and decompress. Either sit in here or leave your door open so I can listen to you play while I tidy up, okay?”

So stunned was Luka by the fact that Adrien had been paying close enough attention to identify one of Luka’s stressors and corresponding coping mechanism, that he actually went and got his guitar, sat on the wrap-around couch, and began to play instead of arguing and insisting on helping Adrien clean.

It was ten minutes and one clean plate later that Adrien spoke up.

“I’m around an awful lot, aren’t I?”

“Mmhm,” Luka agreed, eyes closed, still wrapped up in the song taking form at his fingertips.

“…Do you get stressed out when you’re around me too long?” Adrien wondered tentatively, half-afraid of the answer.

“You don’t count as another person,” Luka replied automatically, the filter between his brain and his mouth down for maintenance.

Adrien’s eyebrows danced in confusion for a second before Luka added, “You’re an extension of me.”

Adrien hummed softly, pleased with the response.

Luka opened his eyes and blinked, what he had said finally catching up. “Uh…I mean…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien assured, rinsing the second plate and then reaching for the towel to dry it. “I know what you mean.”

Luka continued to stare. “You…do?”

Adrien nodded. “That’s how I feel when I’m fighting beside Ladybug.”

Luka’s heart sank, his fingers landing a little too high on the strings and creating a dissonant chord.

Ladybug. Of course.

In his disappointment, Luka almost missed the way Adrien’s cheeks began to color.

Adrien paused, gripping the plate in his hands as he looked down with an embarrassed smile, continuing, “…and…”

Luka looked back up, breath catching.

“…how I feel when we’re making music together or lying up on the deck at night talking…or even when we’re just sitting in silence. It feels like you’re an extension of me too.” Adrien set the plate aside and grabbed another as he laughed softly. “It’s actually a relief to hear you say you feel the same way.”

“Yeah,” Luka whispered, in a bit of a daze. “Yeah. I thought it was just me.”

Adrien shrugged. “Nope. Looks like we’re in this together.”

Luka hummed happily, going back to the song he’d been playing and transitioning into G major. “Glad to know.”

The conversation slipped into a comfortable lull, filled by Luka’s music, the clink of dishes, and the swoosh of soapy water.

It didn’t take long for Adrien to get the negligible number of plates and cups clean, dry, and put away, and then he joined Luka back on the couch, closing his eyes and sinking into the notes.

The song eventually found its natural conclusion, and Adrien applauded.

“You need to adapt that one for one of your bands,” he encouraged. “There were some real gems to be polished in there.”

“Yeah?” Luka chuckled, opening his eyes to study Adrien’s earnest expression.

Adrien nodded enthusiastically before hooking one arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to rest his chin on top. “Definitely.”

“All right. I’ll pick it apart and put it back together again later and see what happens.” With a pleased grin, Luka turned back to his guitar, starting with a new melody.

He fiddled around and worked on developing the idea for a few minutes before picking up on a subtle shift in Adrien: the purse of his lips, the slight crease of his brow, the set of his jaw, the cloudy look in his eyes, the slightly heavier feeling to his presence.

Luka tipped his head to the side, focusing his attention away from the guitar. “Something on your mind, P5? You look like you’re puzzling through something.”

Adrien smiled sheepishly, straightening up on the couch with a shrug of nonchalance. “Just…you.”

“Me?” Luka echoed.

Adrien nodded. “Lately, as you’ve been inviting me to hang out with your other friends, I’ve kind of noticed something.”

Luka’s eyebrow cocked slightly.

“You act differently around them,” Adrien answered reluctantly.

The bottom dropped out of Luka’s stomach like an elevator car with its cables cut. “Different…in a bad way?”

Adrien hurriedly shook his head. “No, no. Just…different. I mean, I like you better when you’re just with me, but…it’s not a negative difference. You’re just…a lot quieter around other people. You don’t talk much, you look uncomfortable more often…I mean, sometimes you joke around with other people, but…it’s not like when it’s just the two of us or when we’re with your family. I was just wondering why the difference.”

Luka gave a little chuckle and looked back at his guitar. “Ah. You’ve discovered my secret. I’m socially awkward and fairly introverted.”

“No, you’re not,” Adrien laughed, completely incredulous.

Luka shrugged. “I am one hundred percent serious.”

“You? Socially awkward?” Adrien scoffed lightly. “Luka, you say the suavest things. You’re always teasing and joking and making me laugh. You’re funny and kind and emotionally sensitive. You always know what to say. How am I supposed to believe that you of all people are social awkward?”

Luka smiled sheepishly and shrugged again. “Well, I’m glad you think so, but…look at the evidence. You’re the one who said I’m different around other people. Different how so?”

Adrien frowned, considering before he responded, “…Quiet. Withdrawn…maybe a little shy. Not at ease. It’s not a constant thing. I mean, sometimes you’re totally fine, but…other times…” Adrien’s eyebrows pinched together. “…I guess you are kind of awkward in big groups.”

Luka nodded. “Acting ‘normal’ and determining what’s socially acceptable around a bunch of people for an extended amount of time is really draining. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“But…” Adrien pursed his lips. “…you’re not like that with me.”

“No,” Luka confirmed with a warm smile. “I feel at ease with you. I rarely have to think about what I’m going to say—what I’m supposed to say. You’re one of the few people I can just be me around. With you, things just fit.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, scooting in closer.

He could feel his cheeks burning with pleasure.

“I feel the same way about you,” he whispered, carefully slotting himself in at Luka’s side so that he wouldn’t get in the way of the guitar. He rested his head on Luka’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Luka let his head tip so that it rested against Adrien’s, Adrien’s hair soft against Luka’s cheek.

“Thanks, Perfect Fifth,” he whispered.

Luka couldn’t be sure that Adrien meant it in a romantic way, but at least Luka knew for sure that they were on the same wavelength. Adrien was still hung up on Ladybug, but, maybe, in another month or two…

Luka should tell him. At the end of the summer, before school started up again, Luka would reevaluate the situation. At the very least, he could make Adrien aware of his feelings, put the ball in Adrien’s court. If Adrien just wanted friendship, fine, but if there was a part of Adrien that did think of Luka in a romantic light…

At the end of the summer, they would see.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste/Luka Couffaine #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Mikau's Writings #A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik)

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

Text

Traces of You

Stingue Week 2019 Prompt: Reminisce Home for the Holidays 2019 Prompt: Written A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3 | FF.Net Notes: This story contains lyrics from a song called ‘Time spent Walking through Memories’ and are originally written by Kim Jong-Wan, the amazingly talented lead singer of the Korean band Nell. For anyone who is interested, here is a link to the song that includes the English subtitles: https://youtu.be/FS_WGNOufbg

November 14th, 2013 No matter how many times Rogue had come home to an empty house, he was still struck by the same feeling of desolation he felt every time he stepped over the threshold. There was no smell of food being cooked in the kitchen, no face turning away from the tv for even a brief second, just to say hello, no pair of shoes in the hallway other than the ones he had just put there himself. The only thing that greeted him was darkness and silence.

He hung up his coat in the hallway closet and flicked on the lights, then unpacked his bag. With a heavy sigh, he walked into the kitchen to rinse out his water bottle in the sink and clean his lunch box so they would be ready to use tomorrow. The house was as good as spotless, no dirty dishes or other personal belongings were lying around as he had kept everything tidy to keep himself distracted. But a spotless house was just another reminder that there wasn’t anyone but him to leave their mess behind.

Either way, he had to move on. Sitting around and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to do him any good, so from the moment he had said goodbye to Sting at the airport, he had tried to keep himself busy as best as he could. Today wasn’t any different, and after he had taken his textbooks and notepads out of his bag he sat down at the dinner table to do some studying.

But it was too quiet.

Rogue closed the textbook he had been blankly staring at and put it away again, not being able to focus on anything but the lack of sound surrounding him. The other chairs at the table were empty, triggering thoughts about the ones whose presence they used to mark. His father’s coat wasn’t draped over one of them for his mother to complain about as she took it off to put it where it should have been in the first place, Gray wasn’t bent over his homework in his usual seat at the other end of the table, and Sting wasn’t sitting across from him, playing footsie with him while trying to don a mask of feigned innocence.

His own chair scraped across the floor loudly as Rogue rose up to find something else to focus on, but he already knew he’d be confronted with his solitude no matter where he went or what he did.

When he ate, there was only one plate on the table, one glass of water to be filled. When he showered, Sting’s half-empty and forgotten bottle of shampoo was sitting next to his own. When he went to bed he swam in a sea of empty space and unstolen blankets, mapping the irregularities in his ceiling like constellations in the night sky. And when he curled up on the sofa to watch Netflix he was presented with the profiles of his family members who hadn’t been watching anything in a long time, with favorite picks that weren’t all his own and with suggestions to continue watching series he used to binge with someone wrapped around him.

The only thing he had left to throw himself into when he was alone, was art. Both writing and music had always been his escape from reality, letting him dissolve into worlds of his own creation. He went to his room and grabbed his guitar, carefully tuning it as he sat at the edge of his bed. Mindlessly plucking at the strings for a while, he eventually found a melody that embraced the gloom he was carrying around, and before he knew it, it started leading a life of its own.

Rogue wasn’t sure what made him decide to grab his phone and record the song he had composed on a whim, or why he felt the sudden urge to provide it with a set of lyrics. He had written songs for Phantom Lord before, but always in collaboration with Gajeel. This was all his own doing, a solo-project born from the emotions he had refused to fully surrender to.

But now he had opened the hatch and everything came pouring out like a rainstorm, as memories and sentiments were taking the shape of words hastily scribbled onto a piece of paper.

And surrender he did.

Even now, I still hear your voice Even now, I still feel your touch And today I lived within traces of you

Even now, I still see you Even now, I still feel your warmth And today I lived within your time

In the shape of a stranger passing by on the street, In the desolate dance of the fall leaves playing in the wind Even in the evening air that grazes my cheek In everything I see, hear and feel You’re there

So how about you, how about you? Are you feeling the same? How about you?

At the empty chair, discarded by the roadside In the glass of water I thoughtlessly raise to my lips Even in the mirror I face to see myself Even in the gentle music that sits in my ear You’re there

What do I do now, what do I do now? You must have erased me So what do we do now?

Rogue put his pen down and stared at the words that had just flowed out and onto the paper, playing back the recording to let the sounds of his guitar merge with them inside his head. The last notes had yet to die out when he crumpled up the paper and tossed it across his room, and the pen right after it. Not because it wasn’t good enough- it might just be the best song he had ever written- but because it was way more than what he was willing to share with anyone. This was just too personal, and upon realizing what he had just tapped into, Rogue was faced with the sad truth.

He wasn’t moving on at all.

Instead, he had been walking around in memories, unable to let go of what could have been but wasn’t meant to be.

But enough was enough, so he made a radical decision. In a sudden fit of resentment, he tossed the guitar onto his bed and stormed out of the room. He found an empty box in the laundry room that he took with him under one arm as he went through the house and filled it with everything Sting had left behind.

A pair of sunglasses from the kitchen’s clutter drawer, a winter scarf from the hallway closet, the bottle of shampoo from the bathroom, a comic book that had fallen behind the bed, and one lost sock that Rogue had kept in his sock drawer for no rationally explainable reason.

All that was left as a tangible reminder of his presence in Rogue’s life was a slew of pictures and text messages on his phone, and that was up last to be removed. Rogue dumped the box on the floor and picked up the phone from his bed, where he had left it after replaying the song he had recorded. Since the application was still open, it was the first thing to go, deleted without being given a second thought.

The pictures were up next, but there were so many of them, and as Rogue selected them one by one he was taken back to the times when those pictures were taken.

Delete selected items?

Rogue's thumb hovered above the screen in a few moments of hesitation, because although these pictures were painful to look at now, they were also keepsakes from precious moments. But before he could make a decision, another screen popped up that made him hold his breath.

Incoming call: Sting Eucliffe

Rogue stared at the screen unsure of what to do. Perhaps this was the sign he’d been waiting for. His chance to make a clean break of it all. All he had to do was tell Sting that they needed to just stop. Talking, texting, all of it.

The ringtone he’d chosen for Sting as a joke rang in his ears, reminding him of yet another moment they’d shared. He was going to do it. He took one deep shaky breath, bolstering himself for the conversation that was bound to be uncomfortable. He swiped his finger to accept the call.

"Hey."

"Hey…uhm, is this a bad time?"

Rogue had to bite back a 'You have no idea', but he managed to keep himself in check and act like nothing was wrong.

"No, it's fine."

"Okay…so, how's your day?"

Rogue looked at the box that lay at his feet and almost laughed, "About the same as usual.”

Even through the awkwardness in Sting’s words, Rogue could sense something was up and despite his intentions, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Right, uhm so listen, I can’t talk long but I wanted to ask you something.”

Rogue’s heart began to beat faster as he detected the underlying excitement in Sting’s voice. “Ask?”

“Yeah, my parents want to know if you’d like to spend the holidays with us, you know, visit Edolas over break.”

“They do?” Rogue felt like an idiot, but he was so surprised by the turn the conversation had taken that he couldn’t seem to put any words together.

“They wanted to thank you for everything you did for me when I was over there, and well you know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again,” Sting chuckled nervously.

Rogue stared at the wall in disbelief. Visit over the holidays? And that last bit, it almost sounded like Sting missed him too. He looked down at the box again, frowning as he tapped it with his foot.

He listened absently as Sting continue to babble on with his usual exuberance about the things they could do and how fun it would be, all of his previous awkwardness disappearing as he described places Rogue had never heard of, and people he’d never met.

“So, uhm, what do you think?”

Rogue blinked at the question, not sure of how long Sting had been waiting for him to respond.

“I’d have to speak to my parents about it first,” Rogue lied, cursing himself, knowing Sting would immediately recognize it for what it was. But what choice did he have, five minutes ago he’d been considering cutting all ties and now he was being invited to visit? He couldn’t really process this right now.

He hated the disappointment he heard in Sting’s voice when he responded, “Oh, alright. That makes sense I guess. Give me a call when you know so I can tell my parents whether to buy a ticket or not.”

“Sting?” Rogue wanted to say something that would somehow save this conversation from the disaster it had become but he was still too conflicted so all he could manage was, “Thank you for the invite. I’ll call you soon.”

“Okay, I look forward to it,” Sting replied, sounding awkward once again, and Rogue recognized the switch to more formal language for what it was. He may not have spoken the words he’d meant to say at the beginning of the conversation, but the message had gotten through regardless.

As the call ended Rogue couldn’t help but feel the house closing in on him again. He grabbed the scarf from the box, running the fabric through his fingers, wanting to touch something that made him feel closer to Sting.

He wrapped it around his neck thinking about the upcoming holidays, and how he would be alone once again. Last year there had been no tree, no big Christmas dinner, no singing carols, and no skating in their backyard pond which had fallen into disrepair after his parents had left. Nothing but Rogue, and Netflix.

But he didn’t have to do that again, not if he didn’t want to. This year he had a choice. The question was, should he take it?

He knew what he should choose, but listening to Sting’s voice had cinched it for him. He wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. And if he chose to visit, maybe they could find a way to make things work despite the distance that would be between them again once it was time for him to return home.

With that thought in mind, he unwrapped the scarf from his neck, tossing it back into the box. From the corner of his eye, he could see the crumpled up sheet of paper. He picked it up and smoothed out the creases to his best ability before folding it twice and adding it to the box. Instead of dumping all its contents in the trash like he had planned to do, he walked over to his open closet, finding a spot on one of his shelves to plop it on. Likewise, he refrained from deleting the pictures on his phone. He would hold off for a little while, and after he returned from his visit he would make his final decision.

Remembering that Sting had said he couldn’t talk for long, Rogue brought up the messaging app on his phone.

I’d love to

He chuckled at the almost immediate response full of so many emojis, it made him worry for Sting’s sanity. And with something to look forward to he found the house no longer felt so empty.

(PS, by DivineBurrito: ) I love this band and this is one of the first songs from them I fell in love with, but I can recommend their other work as well! Thank you for reading!

#ftdadsau #stingue #ftlgbtholidays2019 #stingueweek2019 #ftlgbtales #prompt: reminisce #prompt: written #fics

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mdzs-english · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Wild and Free 1

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes to a swift kick in the gut. A thunderous voice shouted in his ear, “Are you playing dead?”

Wei Wuxian felt like he was going to vomit blood. The back of his head hit the ground, and he gazed skyward, hazily thinking that it took some nerve to kick the Yiling Patriarch. He didn’t know how many years had passed since he last heard a living person speak, much less hassle him like that. Dizzily, he tried to focus on what sounded like a duck quacking.

“Don’t even think about it. Whose land are you living on? Whose food are you eating? Whose money are you spending? How could I steal from you, when it’s all mine to begin with!”

All around him came the sound of the room being torn apart. Gradually, Wei Wuxian’s vision cleared, and the sight of a dark ceiling emerged, alongside a sickly face sputtering with rage.

“And then you dare go and tell someone! Did you think I was afraid of being caught? Did you really think anyone here would be on your side?”

The smashing sounds stopped, and from the periphery, two well-built servants called, “Gongzi, we’re done.”

“That fast?” the duck-voiced man asked.

“There’s not much in here,” a servant answered.

Satisfied, the duck-voiced man turned to Wei Wuxian, who itched to bash his nose back into his head. “You dared to turn me in,” he said. “Now who are you playing dead for? These useless, discarded scraps of metal? Everything I gave you is destroyed. Who are you going to tell! You study cultivation for a few years and you think that makes you somebody? You still came running back with your tail between your legs.”

Still feeling half-dead, Wei Wuxian thought:

I’ve been dead for years; I don’t have to pretend.

Who is this?

Where is this?

When did I possess someone else’s body???

The duck-voiced man, having kicked Wei Wuxian and wrecked the room, had vented enough of his anger. With the two servants, he strutted out the door, slamming it and ordering, “Watch him! Don’t let him leave and make a scene.”

The guards outside assented, and the sound of footsteps faded away. Silence fell, and Wei Wuxian tried to sit up. His body wasn’t having it, so he slumped back down. He flipped over to take in the unfamiliar mess surrounding him, still feeling faint.

To one side there lay a copper mirror that had been tossed to the ground. Wei Wuxian groped for it and looked. A strange white face appeared on its surface, with a red, blotchy, asymmetrical lump on each of its cheeks. He was one distended, scarlett tongue away from looking like a hanged man’s ghost.

Disgusted, Wei Wuxian tossed the mirror aside. He wiped his face and found white powder smeared across his hand. Luckily, this body wasn’t naturally strange—the owner just had strange tastes. A big man who slathered his face in powder and rouge—he looked like a clown.

Bolstered by his fear, Wei Wuxian finally sat up, and realized he had been lying atop a sigil. It was an irregular round shape, seemingly hand-drawn in blood. It was still wet, and Wei Wuxian could smell it. In the center, incantations were scrawled. They had been smeared by his body, but the remaining fragments had a dark, sinister aura. Wei Wuxian had spent years being called the Supreme Demonic Master, the Founder of the Devil’s Path, and other such names. Dark magic was as familiar to him as breathing, and he knew at a glance the sigil was nothing good.

He hadn’t possessed someone’s body—it had been offered.

An offering like that is a curse. The offeror must mutilate themselves, cutting deep into their own flesh and using the blood to paint the sigil and incantations. Then they sit in the center, offering their physical body to a wicked spirit. For the price of their own soul, the spirit will fulfill their deepest desire. This offering is completely different from possession. Both rituals are maligned and forbidden, but the former lacks the latter’s practicality and popularity. After all, it’s rare a living person has a desire so strong, they will give everything to see it fulfilled. Thus, as the centuries passed, the ritual was nearly forgotten. Ancient texts only record a handful of instances of its use over the millenia. Without exception, the offeror desired revenge, and the wicked spirit achieved it in a merciless, bloody way.

Wei Wuxian was not convinced. Why should he be labeled a spirit wicked beyond all redemption? His reputation wasn’t great, and his death had been ugly, but 1) he never haunted anyone and 2) he never took revenge. You couldn’t find a more peaceful and dutiful ghost than he in all of heaven and earth.

The problem was, the wishes of the offeror were paramount. Even if Wei Wuxian objected, occupying the body alone was a tacit agreement. He must achieve the offeror’s goals, or else the curse would rebound and he, the summoned spirit, would be extinguished, never to be reborn.

Wei Wuxian tore open his robes and raised his hands to look. Sure enough, both wrists were crisscrossed with ugly gashes, as if they had been slashed at by a sharp object. The wounds had stopped bleeding, but Wei Wuxian could tell they weren’t ordinary injuries. If he didn’t do what the offeror wanted, they would never heal. The longer he delayed, the worse they would get, and if he waited too long, his body and soul would be torn apart.

Wei Wuxian thought it over again and again, wondering how this could have possibly happened. Finally, he was able to push himself up using the wall.

The room was large, but squalid and bare. He couldn’t begin to guess how long it had been since the moldy-smelling bedding had been washed. In the corner, a bamboo wastebasket had been kicked over, and scraps of paper and other filth littered the floor. One balled-up page seemed to carry ink marks. Wei Wuxian picked it up and smoothed it out. Sure enough, it was covered in densely-written words. He hurriedly gathered all the papers from the ground.

The words on the paper must have been written when the body’s original occupant was at a low point and needed to vent. Some passages were confusing or incoherent. The author’s anxiety was evident in his twisted handwriting, leaping off the page at the reader. Wei Wuxian patiently scanned each page. The more he read, the more he began to feel something wasn’t right.

With some guesswork, Wei Wuxian was able to clear up a few things. First, his host was Mo Xuanyu, and this place was called Mo Manor. Mo Xuanyu’s grandfather was a local lord from a clan with few children. He had no sons—years of diligent plowing had only resulted in two daughters. Their names went unmentioned, but the elder, legitimate daughter’s husband lived with the family. The younger daughter, though beautiful, was born to a servant, and the Mo family originally planned to marry her off at random. Unexpectedly, when she was sixteen a young lord had passed through and fell in love with her instantly. The two used Mo Manor to carry out their tryst, and a year later, she gave birth to a son: Mo Xuanyu.

The people of Mo Manor generally despised this sort of thing, but everyone loved cultivators. In their eyes, members of cultivation families were heaven-blessed, mysterious and noble. From time to time, the young lord would aid local families, so popular opinion changed completely. The affair became a point of pride for the Mo family, and the envy of all the rest.

But nothing lasts forever, and the young lord was hungry for something new. Before two years had passed he was sick of Mo Manor, and came around less and less often. By the time Mo Xuanyu was four, he had disappeared entirely.

In these years, the winds shifted again. Contempt and ridicule returned, now with added pity and disdain. The younger daughter never gave up, believing the young lord wouldn’t abandon the son she’d born him. Sure enough, when Mo Xuanyu was fourteen, the lord dispatched a contingent of men to invite him to return to his father.

The younger daughter held her head high once more. Although she could not accompany her son, she swept aside the sullen sighs and raised eyebrows of her past, proudly proclaiming to everyone she met that her son was going to become a great cultivator and bring honor to his family. The people of Mo Manor were all atwitter, their attitudes once again changed.

However, before Mo Xuanyu could become a successful cultivator and his father’s heir, he was sent back home.

The business that drove him back was ugly. Because Mo Xuanyu was gay, and recklessly harassed his fellow disciples, he became embroiled in a public scandal. As he was of mediocre talent and unlikely to contribute to the field of cultivation, there was no reason for the clan to allow him to stay.

When it rains, it pours. Mo Xuanyu couldn’t take it. After returning, he became deranged, scared of his own shadow.

Wei Wuxian read all this with eyebrows raised. A homosexual, okay, and a madman. No wonder he was slathered in so much makeup he looked like a hanged man. No wonder no one had blinked at the sight of the huge sigil on the floor, dripping with blood. Even if Mo Xuanyu had painted the whole room with blood, from floor to walls to ceiling, they wouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone knew he was sick in the head.

Mo Xuanyu returned home to taunts and jeers. This time, there was no recourse. His mother couldn’t take the shock. She buried her resentment deep inside herself, and it smothered her.

Mo Xuanyu’s grandfather had already died, and his aunt led the family. Mo-furen had never been able to stand her younger sister, and was even more dismissive of her sister’s bastard. She only had one child, Mo Ziyuan, the same man who had just ransacked the room. When Mo Xuanyu was whisked away, Mo-furen couldn’t sever her slight ties to the cultivation world, hoping an emissary would some day arrive to send Mo Ziyuan off to study cultivation as well. Naturally, he was refused, which is to say he was ignored.

No kidding! Cultivation wasn’t like haggling over cabbage in the marketplace—there was no buy one, get one. Wei Wuxian didn’t know where this family’s arrogance came from. They all had strange notions—that Mo Ziyuan was a cultivator in his bones, that he was gifted, that if he had been the one sent to train, they would have become a renowned cultivation family. That he wouldn’t have been a disappointment like his cousin. Mo Ziyuan, though he was still young when Mo Xuanyu went away, had had this nonsense drilled into his skull since childhood and believed it absolutely. He tormented Mo Xuanyu two days out of every three, ranting that he had robbed him of his own future as a cultivator. He coveted the talismans, drugs, and devices that Mo Xuanyu had brought back from the cultivation world and considered them his own, taking or destroying them as he pleased. Though Mo Xuanyu was often sick, he knew he was being demeaned. He bore the humiliation, but Mo Ziyuan just increased it, almost emptying the room. Eventually, Mo Xuanyu couldn’t take it anymore. He stood before his aunt and uncle and, stammering, gave his testimony. Then, today, Mo Ziyuan burst into the room.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes burned as he stared at the small, dense writing. What kind of fucking half-life was this? No wonder Mo Xuanyu would rather offer up his body and ask a spirit to avenge him.

The ache in his eyes migrated to his head. Normally, the offeror whispered his desire inside his own mind. As the evil spirit he had summoned, Wei Wuxian should have been able to hear his detailed request, but he was afraid that whatever fragment Mo Xuanyu had exfiltrated this forbidden ritual from was incomplete. That step was missing. Wei Wuxian could guess he wanted some kind of reprisal against the Mo family, but what? How extreme? Should he steal things back? Beat them? Or… wipe them out?

Probably wipe them out. Anyone mixed up in cultivation knew the words most often associated with Wei Wuxian: Heartless. Sick in the head. Bites the hand that feeds him. Who better to dance with these particular devils? Mo Xuanyu had dared call him by name. One thing was for sure, his wish wasn’t for them to be let off lightly.

Wei Wuxian said helplessly, “You chose the wrong man…”

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #translation #chapter 2 #wei wuxian #mo ziyuan #mo xuanyu

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comicteaparty · 4 years

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April 29th-May 5th, 2020 Reader Favorites Archive

The archive for the Reader Favorites chat that occurred from April 29th, 2020 to May 5th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

What common comic creation “rule” have you seen broken that wound up working very well for a specific comic?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I have seen the 'rule' floating around years ago that advised against hand lettering in comics ( and included hand drawn SFX too.) I dont need to elaborate on how silly that 'rule' is bc there are so many beautifully done hand letter featuring comics out there!! I think if anything? Break rules as much as you can- this leads to consuming mediums differently each time and opening up the door to new possibilities!(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

What!? Hand drawn sfx is AWESOME!

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

( it was such a dumb 'rule' these comic 'pros' tried to push on younger creators, similar in a 'do and dont' meme--- ridiculous!)

RebelVampire

I'm gonna cheat sort of. Rather than a comic creation rule itself, I've seen a shit ton of web design rules broken for comics. No responsiveness. Can't find social media buttons. Super hard to click between pages. Convoluted layouts. Lack of areas for engagement. And yet so many of them can have unimaginably frustrating sites that are not user friendly and still get popular because the comic is just that good. So for me it shows people are willing to put up with a lot if they like something.

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

That's a very good point!

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Generally comics have a strong rule about not getting too wordy and text-heavy, but one of my all-time favourite webcomics, Unsounded, is very verbose (https://unsoundedupdates.tumblr.com/ CW: 16+ comic here, lots of language, nudity, gore, etc). But it really uses it effectively. The comic is so lore-rich with great world-building and attention to detail. I couldn't imagine it any other way.

kayotics

Haha, it's true about websites, though. It's hard to make a GOOD website, and with webcomic creators being mostly one person or small teams, having someone who knows how to do a website well is tough. Especially long-running ones, which usually haven't been updated since inception.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

One odd thing I've noticed regards update schedule. The typical advice I see is that keeping a consistent update schedule keeps your readership on-board. Like, the idea is that long hiatuses lose readers. But, I've noticed a few comics where the reader base was massive, growing, and devoted despite irregular gaps of weeks or months between pages. Homestuck (https://www.homestuck.com/) is an obvious example of this, where the gaps in updates didn't stop the fandom from growing (and in fact, seem to have bolstered it). And there are a few other comics I've heard about in passing that have a similar property. Though, I should note that this is true for things besides webcomics - like, I've noticed a lot more fandom devotion for things like Steven Universe and Sherlock in the gaps between episodes than in the times when episodes are airing. I think what ends up happening is that these series' garner a decent-sized fanbase during a period of consistent updates/episodes/whatever - and during breaks, fans create more fan-content than they would normally (out of boredom and such). This fan-content ends up attracting more people to the original work, which means the fanbase grows massively during the break periods. I wonder if anyone has ever attempted that sort of thing intentionally? Like, deliberately messed with their update schedule in an attempt to draw in fans in places they wouldn't be otherwise.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

We also know of cases where comics lost readers over hiatuses, so it doesn't seem like a reliable strategy, at least for comics with smaller readership.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Yeah, whenever I go on hiatus I lose most of my readers. Hiatuses are unfortunately unavoidable for me because of a lot of RL issues I need to deal with, and it always means losing what little readership I managed to gain.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

yeah i imagine it only works if you have a big enough fanbase where your readers will start making a bunch of content without you

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Yeah

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i'm not even sure that's true for big fandoms like steven universe

i felt like i always saw more fan content after a new episode as opposed to during a hiatus(edited)

and i'd guess that many people did stop watching during the year+ hiatuses(edited)

either way i'd never risk going on a hiatus purposefully.

Though, I have seen comics that go on regular, planned hiatuses between chapters that I don't think lose readers for it(edited)

Phantomarine and Alfie (warning nsfw) are examples(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

If I do lose readers, I don't notice! Mostly because the very few I have are... consistently loud A very long and popular comic like Alfie probably gains enough new readers between postings to make the viewership drop almost negligible. I could be wrong, though. But I can't imagine it being too harmful.

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I used to remember an old comic rule about speech bubbles kept inside the panels but I've seen creators bend alot of that rule with vertical comics, heh! From warping speech bubble to SFX flying around. The panel rules are broken to make characters seem to leap out of their boxes. It's an interesting concept.(edited)

Capitania do Azar

They told me comic panels had to be inside the comic page. I disagree

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

laughs in freeform layouts what's a panel

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #reader favorites #comic tea party #ctp

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gladio-to-meet-you · 5 years

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Where Are You?! (ft the Chocobros and Nyx)

Here’s your angst babes, @ta-ka-shi-ma! I’m a bit mad it took me so long to get this started and finished (considering I had been working on it for a while before I replied to your ask...) but it’s done now!

As usual, let me know if any typos or grammar errors are found! It’s much appreciated and lemme know what y’all think??

It had been a normal mission, an easy in, get the intel, and get out. The only concern was that you were paired up with a Glaive member that you didn’t quite get along with. Your boyfriend didn’t think much of it, he just assured you that you were one of the best so it would be easy enough for you two to accomplish and then you’d get to be spoiled for a job well done. He knew there would be radio silence once the mission was started, so he didn’t worry when he hadn’t heard from you for a while...

Ignis

He wasn’t able to see you off on your mission due to conflicting schedules, but had sent you a text to remind you to be safe. He felt bad for being busy so early in the morning but knew you wouldn’t be bothered. You had accepted that your schedules would clash at times and just rolled with it at this point. Your response consisted of telling him to not overwork himself while you were gone and to rely on Gladio and Prompto for assistance, which had him smiling softly at his phone.

By the end of the first week, he felt something was off but dismissed it as just merely missing you. You were due back a few days ago, but he knew life hardly ever went according to plan. He kept himself busy with work and probably drank more Ebony than he would admit to. He started sleeping poorly due to his worry about you, which also played a part in his Ebony intake.

The second week saw him sleeping less and spending more time awake, worrying more than he’d like to think about. He knew, he felt it in his gut, that something was definitely wrong. Even if you were delayed in returning, it shouldn’t have taken more than a week to arrive back home to report in. He didn’t know a search party had been sent out until he came upon the paperwork for it a few days afterwards. He had managed to sign off on it and not remember it.

His stomach dropped when he read over the report detailing the finding of your partner’s wounded body and with it, no sign of you. You were going to be listed as MIA until they found your body, so they were really expecting to update your status at some point to KIA and that tore him up. That explained the looks he had been getting recently, the pity, the hesitance to say anything to him outside of simple greetings. He hadn’t listened to his gut from the start and maybe if he had, you would be back by now. He threw himself into his work in his grief, giving it 110%, so he could distract himself. In the following days, he would diligently read any papers coming from Cor’s office, making sure he missed no updates on the search for you, still not sleeping regularly.

Prompto

He was actually the one to wake you up for your mission, having been unable to sleep any longer. He even prepared breakfast and had it waiting on you so you wouldn't have to rush. He also made sure you got at least three goodbye kisses before you left, making you smile in the process. He even made sure to send you a text to be safe but speedy so you would come back on time, so you two could plan your next date night. He had nothing set in stone, knowing you may end up a bit delayed or if everything went smoothly you could even arrive home earlier.

He was eagerly waiting for the end of your assignment. When the first week came to an end, he was a bit of an anxious mess. He was so sure something had happened but his concerns were waved away, saying he was just being antsy and that you would be back soon, so he was worrying for nothing. His lip was bitten to the point it was almost raw and bloody from his constant worrying. He got pulled into training and sparring with the rest of the boys pretty frequently to distract him, which worked. Until it didn't.

It was by the time the second week was ending that sparring and training stopped distracting him. He ended up needing healed more by then that the other three were ordered to stop it, they were going to run out of potions if they kept it up. A search party was planned on the down low, trying to keep Prompto from getting his hopes up or bringing his mood down even further. But he still managed to catch brief whispers of it and so he stormed into Cor's office, demanding to be added to the party. Cor hadn't wanted to give in, but ended up doing so, assigning Nyx to stick with him and keep him from doing anything stupid or suicidal.

The party found your partner badly wounded and barely clinging to life outside the city, abandoned in a ditch. It was hard to tell if they were dumped or just happen to fall into it themselves. Nyx had to hold Prompto back from jumping down your partner’s throat for an update on your status, saying that rescuing them was more important right now because if they lived, they’d have some sort of information or an update about you. However, your partner didn’t make it back to the city and he was beyond devastated. He let out a wailing roar and turned to take him anger out on the closest object to him, which happened to be Nyx. The older Glaive member let his hit land and watched as his face crumpled and tears started falling. He waved the other members ahead to report in and to get the body to the morgue while he steered Prompto home, making sure to keep an eye on him as he was feeling partially responsible for the reaction he was dealing with.

Noctis

Like Ignis, he had been unable to see you off, but not because he was busy working. You knew he had gotten back late, so you didn’t bother to wake him up, just left a little note telling him you’d be back when it was over and to try not to overwork himself or to let himself sleep the time off he had away. He smiled softly at the note when he found it and set it back on the nightstand. He was a bit pouty since you didn’t wake him, but he pushed that aside to get ready and go about his Princely duties.

When you weren’t back by the date you had told him, his stomach seized a bit and his mood plummeted. He knew, logically, that you were probably just delayed in returning, but he had a nagging feeling that something was wrong. He brushed it aside for the more logical side, knowing Ignis was probably right when he told him not to worry. Ignis was never wrong about these things, so he focused on his job, making sure to perform them to the best of his ability so you wouldn’t have cause to scold him when you were back.

He awoke at the end of the second week and felt ill, fear freezing the blood in his veins and his depression taking over. It was a chore just to get out of bed to get ready for his day. Prompto had arrived to escort him to work, since the trio was taking turns to make sure he wasn't wallowing in his fear and worry or letting his depression get the best of him. Once at his desk, and going through his papers for the day, his head darted up so he could find Ignis as soon as he read that you were being deemed as MIA, his eyes wide.

He was out of his chair and subsequently his office moments later, ignoring his friend trying to stop him. He was close to hyperventilating when he arrived at Cor's office and barged in, ignoring that there was someone already in there. Cor dismissed the Glaive member he had been talking to immediately after taking one look at Noctis. He stomped over to the desk, slamming his hands down onto it as he breathed heavily, demanding that he keep searching for you. He would accept no less than you being brought home and he would fight to see it done. You were his other half and there was a gaping hole in his life, his heart, with your absence. Without giving Cor a chance to rebut it or even reply, he turned and stormed out. That night it was a fight to get him out of his office and to go back home, his grief was starting to set in at the loss of you and his depression flared up terribly. The following days, weeks even, he didn't get out of bed for much unless Gladio was there to physically drag him from it.

Gladio

He had seen you off for your mission by giving you a tight hug and a couple kisses, telling you to come home safe. He could still see the face you had made in his mind at that statement, eyes sparkling with excitement and your lips turned up in a half smirk, half smile combination that was unique to you. You had told him that you would be back before he could fully miss you with his busy schedule. You had made the same promise before going on much more dangerous missions, so he accepted it without batting an eye.

The first week you were gone, he didn’t really have any time to miss you. He was kept busy with training some of the new Kingsglaive members for Cor and then when he wasn’t doing that, he was following Noctis around to be his bodyguard/Shield. It was only at night, in the few minutes he laid awake in bed before his exhaustion drug him to sleep that he missed you the most.

The second week passed by at a crawl for the entire Amicitia household. Iris was more inconsolable than Gladio himself was because she was attached to you as an older sister figure and she couldn’t handle you being missing. Gladio pushed his feelings aside to console his sister and try to bolster her spirits about it. He wasn’t going to accept that you were gone and he joined a scouting party to go looking for you and your partner. He shouldn’t have been allowed to join but his dad and even Noctis backed the decision so Cor had no choice but to grudgingly allow it.

He could swear his heart shattered when they found your partner’s body lying in a ditch. There were multiple stab wounds and each one cut deeper than the other, knowing you were probably just as injured! He felt a calm rage settle in him, his heart eerily calm. His blood felt like ice in his veins and his face was void of any emotions. Prompto, who had chosen to go along with the Shield, placed a hand on his arm, the blonde’s face twisting with fear and grief for his friend. The search party returned, bringing your partner’s body back for burial, and reported their findings to Cor and subsequently Regis and Clarus, who were there when they arrived. Clarus’s heart sunk for his son and he fought to keep his face impartial but whispered to Cor to keep a close eye on Gladio because he wasn’t likely to leave it at this. He took his rage out by training constantly when not guarding the Prince, withdrawing from his friends and family, and he did refuse to accept that you were just gone.

Nyx

He saw you off with a tight hug and a sweet kiss, wringing a promise to return home safely from you. He wasn’t worrying, not yet, not until more time had passed, but he was kicking himself for not asking the other member to switch with him. It would’ve been much better than being left behind and waiting for your return. Even when he was on a guard shift or had to go on his own missions, his thoughts would still drift to you and hoping everything was progressing smoothly for you.

By the time a week had passed, he was starting to worry. He could feel that something was wrong, but since your partner hadn’t returned yet to deliver any news, his concern was mostly waved away as just him missing you. Which wasn’t a lie...but he didn’t have concrete proof to back up his words.

When the second week came to an end, he knew for a fact something was wrong. This time, when he voiced his worries to Cor, he was taken seriously. A small search party was organized, with Nyx volunteering immediately. He was stared down by Cor in his office as he considered it. The only thing he was told in response was a stern “Don’t go making this a suicide mission, no matter what is found”. The search party found your partner, dead, outside the city, so you were automatically thought of as dead too.

His heart broke at the statement from Axis and he refused to believe it. He actually ended up attacking his teammate in a fit of rage. Crowe had to pull them apart and stand between them before ordering Axis to head back to report to Cor ahead of them, so she could stay with Nyx and try to calm him down, her heart breaking for her friend and for the loss of another. Cor pulled him from the mission roster, giving him time to grieve, but he didn’t take it well. He blew up at him and got suspended after his grievance period was over. He refused to accept that you were just gone like that, with no warning, no sort of sign from the Six.

#ffxv #ffxv headcannons #ffxv headcanons #ffxv reader insert #ignis scientia #ignis #ignis x reader #prompto argentum #prompto #prompto x reader #noctis lucis caelum #noctis #noctis x reader #gladiolus amicitia #ffxv gladio #gladio x reader #nyx ulric #nyx #nyx x reader

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dapperkobold · 5 years

Text

Rate the Monsters: Alien Bestiary

Why yes, I already reviewed this, but I wasn’t happy with the review. I’ve thought about it, and I’ve concluded why: no one buys monster books for the BOOK. They buy them for the MONSTERS.

So, here’s a different take: I’m going to be rating the monsters based on how they’re presented in the book, on a few different measurements:

Presentation: The image and description of the monster, to make sure everyone knows what it actually IS. You laugh, but we’ve had trouble with that before.

Mechanics: Less intended to be a measure of how balanced the numbers are, more intended to be a measure of how the monster’s abilities will affect an encounter.

Lore: Lore is a measure of the writing about the monster. Note that this is limited to the writing in this particular work! If this book doesn’t really present a monster compellingly, that’s a problem. Especially if the monster is more intriguing in other works!

Roleplay: If you want something more complex than a good fight, something where the players need to talk their way through the situation, this is where you’re going to look. This is going to be related to Lore and Mechanics, but can be more complex depending on the monster’s precise nature. This is also the least impactful one if it gets a low grade: not every monster should be able to disassemble you philosophically before it disassembles you physically. Sure, mindless undead will all score Fs here, but this isn’t what mindless undead are used for. This is counting not only direct interactions with players, but possible impact on campaigns just from the raw mechanics and fluff presented.

This is inspired by Esper the Bard’s Monster Ranking videos for 5e, credit where it’s due. This kind of analysis is a really good way to measure the basic usefulness of monsters, specifically as they’re presented in specific material.

A few notes before I continue:

1. I don’t give points for historical significance, good intentions, or supplementary material. This is a rating of these monsters as presented in this book, nothing more, nothing less. Some of these monsters date back to olden D&D, some of them have been done wonderfully other places. I’m not rating those; I’m rating these monsters as they are here, in this book.

2. Anyone can make something interesting if they’re creative enough. This is less a full measure of the potential of the monsters, and more a measure of the potential of the monsters as they’re presented. A clever enough DM can make anything compelling, but for less lateral thinkers out there, the writing in the books are what they have to work with.

And since there so darn many aliens in this book, for now we’ll just do A.

Aballonian

Ohhh... this is not a good start...

Presentation: The description and image are both pretty generic. A copper robot with multiple legs? Okay. Nothing to imply their special abilities or stand out at all. Grade F

Mechanics: Okay! There’s a lot of special abilities here! A weakness... a limiter on the weakness... communication ability with a very minor upside... a special attack that doesn’t have any damage or effect listed? Defensive ability that has potential but doesn’t clarify the wording... and one variable effect. This is just a mess, I get that it’s supposed to be flexible (including the ability to change abilities with a full-round action) but this set of mechanics doesn’t really suggest any kind of interaction or particular play style. GRADE F

Lore: There’s no lore listed!

Which is dumb, because I know the lore! These are supposed to be the native life form to Albion in the Pathfinder setting! Why didn’t they at least TRY to explain it? GRADE! F!

Roleplay: IT HAS NO LORE LISTED, HOW ARE PEOPLE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW TO ROLEPLAY IT? GRADE F F F F F this is making me seriously reconsider my analysis of this book’s capabilities!

Aboleth

Presentation: While the Description is fine, the picture is lackluster. Grade C

Mechanics: Using a mix of manipulative spell-like abilities and surprisingly powerful attacks an Aboleth has potential to be a fairly tough encounter. Charm monster can make it an ally, followed by doing solid damage with normal attacks and the occasional spell level 2 mind thrust. However! I had to calculate that mind thrust is cast as a second-level spell, it’s not stated. The main limiter is that with univeral environment suits, the threats of aboleths forcing you to breathe water or gooping your skin is far less immediate. Still, might have potential if there’s some way to break that armor! Grade B-

Lore: A description of Aboleths scouting, conquering, and then leaving planets to rot? It’s the grimdark realization of the quiet horror that we always knew Aboleths could be! Grade A-!

Roleplay: With a spell list made for interaction (at will detect lies, for instance!), good mental stats, and the lore touching on their psychology, society, and motivations, there isn’t much more you could ask for in Roleplaying opportunities. Grade A.

Aboleth, Veiled Master

It’s a CR 14 Aboleth. GET IN.

Presentation: Has no dedicated picture, and the text description really doesn’t sell me on what kind of emotions seeing it is supposed to illicit. Grade D+.

Mehcanics: Yes, it’s an upscaled Aboleth, but it’s upscaled in a creative way. Suggestion, illusion spells, dominate person bolstered by a special ability, 3rd-leve mind thrust at will and a bite attack that lets it READ MINDS. This thing wants an entourage, to mind control the party heavy, and then blow people’s heads apart with mind thrust, with support from illusions and some suggestion to keep things interesting. Also, it shapeshifts. Grade B+

Lore: It’s an Aboleth that disguises itself as a person to manipulate events in the world. Repeat, it’s a CR 14 Aboleth whose entire job is to manipulate a society without said society ever knowing it. It even touches on their place in Aboleth society. Grade A.

Roleplay: It’s an aboleth, with +25 bluff, sense motive +30, and the ability to shapeshift into any small or medium form. If that doesn’t immediately make the players among you shudder in fear and the DMs among you cackle internally, I don’t know what will. Grade A+. Excellent big bad potential, just like Aboleths were always meant to be.

Achaierai

Presentation: The Achaierai has a really bad case of presentation separation. The pictures look derpy, the description tries to be intimidating, and both massively undersell the fact that the thing is constantly oozing acidic smoke. Grade C.

Mechanics: The Achaierai is a fairly straightforward fighter, with solid melee attacks, a passable ranged attack, a breath weapon with some unique rules and an aura of black smoke. The breath weapon not only damages but confuses the target, with a DC 13 save to end that could in theory last indefinitely. The aura itself is a basic damage aura, tied to the low save of DC 13. While it has solid ideas, I’m not sure its powers stand out all that well: DC 13 is in line with the proper DC for a CR 5 monster using abilities that need saves, but all the same a DC13 save is pretty negligible and even rolling every round the penalty for failure isn’t all that high. The breath weapon is a 40 foot cone, but anyone making the DC 13 ref save takes no damage. It doesn’t have enough to be an interesting encounter in and of itself, and even as part of a greater encounter if the dice don’t favor it its unique aspects might be entirely ignored. Grade C.

Lore: The Achaierai’s lore confuses me. Sure, the core idea is cool: A four legged bird monster thing that emits acid smoke. The thing that gets me? It’s an outsider. A native to hell. Why? It would work fine as a magical beast. As a native to hell, it’s immediately near the bottom of the respect pole as a monster that does acid damage in a place where a lot of creatures are resistant to acid damage. I guess I should be happy that it’s more than just another strange magical beast monster but… I’m not. I really feel it would have made more sense as a magical beast. Grade C.

Roleplay: It’s got Wis +2, Cha +3, and speaks infernal. With that said, the lore doesn’t at all list anything that it might want to talk about, or any kind of social structure other than that it has packs. Grade D.

Adamantine Wasp Swarm

Presentation: Wasps made of metal? Cool. The problem is that while it’s a swarm of fine creatures, the flavor text says that each wasp is 1 foot long several times. I assume this is a misprint, and it’s supposed to be one inch long. Other than that, nothing all that incredible. Grade D.

Mechanics: Not all that much. It’s mainly just swarm immunity plus construct immunity plus a special venom on its attacks. The venom is interesting, it turns the target into ice, but that in and of itself isn’t explained in the lore nor condusive of an entertaining, interactive fight scene. They don’t even have DR like would be typical of things made of Adamantine. Grade C-.

Lore: The lore uses a lot to not say a lot. It mentions that they’re made to guard areas, like all constructs, and then goes on at length about how they’re wasps. Grade D.

Roleplaying: To no one’s surprise, there’s no reason to try and talk to the wasps. No, not every monster needs to provide good roleplay opportunities, but all the same it’s worth noting when they’re not present. However, mindless monsters… there’s no reason to expect them to have roleplay opportunities. So for those I’ll waive the grade.

Adherer

What’s up with adherers? Seriously? Why? I feel like back when there was one monster book they would have been a good old skool joke enemy. You know, the kind of thing where the joke punishes predictable adventuring habits and is immediately lethal. But why are they treated as a classic enemy? Flumphs have more lore and mechanics than adherers do!

Presentation: Eh? The picture is nice, but adherers always look stupid. Always. Grade D.

Mechanics: It’s a basic grapple brute. You know the type, attack, free grapple, beat the tar out of the grappled enemy. Adherers have the perk of being able to grapple on the enemy’s turn, but it’s not really going to cause a more complex series of interactions. Ranged attacks with beat them. Magic will beat them. Even melee combat can beat them if they take enough fire damage on a consistent basis! Grade D. Adherers are literally a joke. Making a memorable combat encounter using adherers is indicative of amazing GM skill, not anything innate to the monster’s mechanics.

Lore: Grade F. It’s the kind of token lore that raises more questions than answers.

Roleplaying: Grade D-. It has an int of -3, somehow speaks Aklo, and has no complex motivations nor society to speak of.

Aetherwarped

Presentation: An interesting picture and the visual elements of the templates description are effective enough. Grade B.

Mechanics: As a template, it must be kept in mind that these mechanics are in addition to other things. As thus, a blindsense variant, a strange mobility power, and a basic ranged attack aren’t all that solid of a foundation. They’re interesting by all means, but it doesn’t give the altered creature a new or definite spin on their combat style. Grade C.

Lore: It’s fine. Exposure to aether radition over time, a reliance on it, appreciation for music, it’s a bit token but not objectionable. Grade C.

Roleplaying: As a template… it doesn’t really add any roleplaying potential. The reliance on radiation might, but it also take a fair amount away. Grade D.

Akata

It’s not as good as the variant in the Alien Archive 2.

Presentation: Fine? Eh. Grade B.

Mechanics: A basic brute with a minor disease, it lacks the depth of mechanics that the official version has. Has an Alpha Akata that’s just a CR2 version. Grade D.

Lore: The most predictable variation of the parent trope, they’re alien animals that want to reproduce parasitically and make zombies as an in-between step. The problem is that they don’t have the cunning of the original alien, and at CR 1 they’re not really the most dangerous creatures. The lore says that outbreaks of Akatas can become big problems, but CR 1 or 2 monsters that reproduce through a special ability with a fort save of 10? Seriously, the local law enforcement or monster hunters need to be weak and incompetent to not take these things on. If they were CR 5, that would be one thing. But here, they’re CR 1. Grade C-.

Roleplaying: They’re dumb animals. As in, literally, they’re at int -4 putting them at animalistic intelligence, but they also don’t have any kind of social structure and no sense of self-preservation. So, not only are they animals, they’re particularly stupid ones. Grade F.

Akata Host

It has the same grades as the Akata. It’s just the zombie stage between the infection and the chest-bursting. They can do some strength damage, and on a CR ½ monster that is worth note. Just not enough to make a difference. Seriously, chryssalids are scary. These things? They’re just weak.

Alchemical Ooze Swarm

Here’s a CR 1 monster worth remembering!

Presentation: Though the image is a bit confusing, the description of a riotous mass of bubblelike oozes is very well done. It even has a consistent description of the size of the component parts. Grade B.

Mechanics: Making good use of the swarm type, the Viscous and Chemical Slime abilities add both mechanics and flavor to the swarm. Enemies hit by the swarm’s attacks can be entagled, and then start to suffer additional effects based on the chemical compounds in the oozes. It’s a very interesting idea, and though I feel the DC is way too low at 10 or 11 it has potential to be a memorable dungeon hazard or a part of a greater encounter. In addition, what secondary effect the swarm has also affects the swarm’s weaknesses and resistances. This means that the monster can be used multiple times without being too easy for the players to cheese, while still following an internal logic that the players might be able to learn and use. If anything, I feel it’s a shame this is wasted on a CR 1 monster! I’m definitely going to upscale this at some point. Grade A+!

Lore: It’s a basic ecological aesop, but the idea itself is worth some respect. The explanation to why there’s four different variants works well enough, and it gives the entire thing a feeling of slightly comical menace. If you play even a little loose with the lore, there’s lots of ways this swarm can be used in stories. Grade B.

Roleplay: Mindless.

Allip

Presentation: My response to the picture and description is a deadpan ‘ok.’ It’s not really the most evocative of description in any case, but it works. C-.

Mechanics: Babble plus touch of madness isn’t a bad setup. Definitely more made to seriously inconvenience the party than actually be a solid threat, could be better as part of a larger encounter or as rescource-stucking filler. Certainly unique, and the Madness ability is a nice fluffy addition. B.

Lore: Coming back from the dead for vengeance isn’t really a compelling story in D&D/Pathfinder/Starfinder. Half the undead want vengeance, and Allips are no exception. This is honestly just ‘exists’ lore: It opens no awkward questions, but it also doesn’t answer any interesting questions. C-.

Roleplay: It has Int +1 and Cha +4, but its entire thing is that its crazy. It’s not technically a mindless undead, but in some ways it might as well be. D-.

Amalgamite Swarm

It’s like grey goo, but big enough to punch.

Presentation: Pretty solid. Nothing to really send home about, but hey. B.

Mechanics: Interesting. A little ranged attack, a stealth ability, and a common combat feat adapted to work for a swarm. There’s clearly thought put in here, and it should all result in a very interesting back-and-forth. A.

Lore: Eh, it’s not quite generic. A little bit of extra thought put in. Nothing amazing, but I appreciate the effort. B.

Roleplay: Mindless.

Amerta

This is another monster I think is an original, made to go with the specific Aetheria setting.

Presentation: Neat. Gives an idea of the thing’s scale and has fair detail even if the design itself is a little simplistic. B.

Mechanics: It’s a Colossal CR 18 monster with a mix of melee damage, a breath weapon, and some utility-focused spell like abilities. There’s some creativity here, but nothing that really makes me jump. B.

Lore: It mentions details specific to the setting, but the basic idea isn’t hard to get. I will say that I think it leans on historical significance more than current-day significance, which can make it difficult to integrate into campaigns in interesting ways. B.

Roleplay: It has telepathy and can talk to plants, and there’s a seed of it in the Lore, but nothing that really grabs me. C+.

Amoeba

This entry is the giant amoeba and the amoeba swarm, but I’ll rate them together to save us all time.

Presentation: Eh? Not much to see, not much to say. Not ugly. C-.

Mechanics: These two creatures are basically two versions of the same one, one’s a generic swarm and the other is a generic small ooze. Literally, I can’t find anything special about them. Also, the giant amoeba references the ‘constrict’ universal rule, but at the time of this writing (before Alien Archive 3 comes out) there is no such rule! F.

Lore: None of note. Seriously, I’m impressed how little is communicated here. F.

Roleplay: It’s a mindless ooze.

Animated Object

I feel like this entry is unfitting as either the original idea of the animated object, a Starfinder implementation for the animated object, or the implementation for the enemies actually presented in the book.

Presentation: The description is meh, and the image is amazing up until you realize it’s out of scale with the sizes in the state blocks. And one of the things has no image or personalized description at all. D+

Mechanics: Presented here in the Animated Object blurb is not generic stat blocks usable for various animated objects, but instead two specific animated objects that could have worked perfectly well as robots. And they’re both boring. One has con damage attached to its grappling, the other has trample. D-.

Lore: No fluff text. F.

Roleplay: Mindless.

Ankheg

Presentation: The description is a little generic, and the image is derpy-looking. D.

Mechanics: The idea is that it’s a bite n’ grab monster, with a bite attack that also does acid damage. However, it has an area attack that disables the bite attack’s acid damage when used. Sound interesting enough? Yeah, it doesn’t work as written. The damage is listed as “P & A,” so even parts piercing and acid. The deactivation clause in the Spit Acid ability says that it loses out on the “additional acid damage”, which leaves it unclear how much the damage is reduced. Is it halved after rolling? This could work, but it’s not made clear in the text: when I read that I expected to see something like “+1d8 A”, clearly differentiating the additional damage. Also, the bite attack has the burn critical effect, which reflects things bursting into flames. Even if you replace that with the corrode effect, the rules text doesn’t say to remove it with the acid spit. The monster simply does not operate as intended and needs another pass. F.

Lore: The lore text is effective enough, but has some mechanical notes in it that don’t fit in the fluff text well. They really should either be included in the stat block somewhere or left vague, how they make their tunnels doesn’t matter as long as it happens off-camera, right? C-.

Roleplaying: Normally, as a non-social monster, I’d just flub it. However! It’s specifically mentioned that it could be used as a mount, and its temperament as a mount, meaning it could indirectly affect another role play encounter in an interesting manner. C-.

Aoandon

Presentation: The description and picture are interesting. There’s enough flourishes and detail to intrigue, with a little bit of artistic flair. Hm! A.

Mechanics: It’s got touch of madness, a suite of nasty spell-like abilities, constant true seeing, and it’s incorporeal. Intriguing, no? Not the most outstanding of mechanics, but could still pose a reasonable threat. C+.

Lore: So, it looks like a hologram, it has a touch of madness, and it casts spell like abilities. Just what is… the Aoandon? I’m gonna read it!

“An aoandon is an incorporeal outsider formed from the spirit of a woman who died pursuing some ill-fated relationship.”

...what?

Dead people don’t form outsiders! They form undead! Why isn’t it undead? Native outsiders are a wonky bunch in any case, but this is literally an undead blurb! It doesn’t discuss her combat style at all, it’s literally just the undead hatred against those who wronged her! F!

Roleplaying: I don’t care that it speaks 5 languages and it has Int and Cha +4. It’s just another undead that hates stuff. D-.

Asquenti

Presentation: The description is good enough, but the image really doesn’t sell the ‘Tauric crustacean’ idea. To the point that I don’t think the artist knew what it meant. C-.

Mechanics: Seem effective enough. The ability descriptions could have used another pass to better clarify the abilities and fit to the standard style of monster entries. A skilled editor was really needed here. C-.

Lore: Eh, nothing amazing, nothing bad. Just enough to keep it from feeling hollow, but nothing really that stands out. C.

Roleplaying: There’s certainly potential here, but we don’t get into their culture enough to really spark the imagination. C.

Assassin Vine

Presentation: The picture doesn’t mesh with the description at all. D.

Mechanics: Nothing too startling, though I’m not sure how the entangling plants aura is supposed to work. I’m also unsure if keeping the resistances from the original was a good idea; in Starfinder, it’s possible that a party could have no physical damage at all (if unlikely) making energy resistance/immunity more powerful. C-.

Lore: Eh? It’s fine. C.

Roleplaying: Mindless.

Asteroid Worm

Presentation: A full splash page illustration and a description that causes me to feel actual emotions. A+.

Mechanics: The worm’s gimmick is effectively that it’s a larger than colossal enemy, and whoever wrote this entry sells it really well. The abilities are straightforward enough and still do what they set out to do, while giving the DM amazing chances for description. I’m unsure how well this monster would work as a straight fight, but it would make a wonderful set piece. A+.

Lore: It’s got it. It’s effective enough, if not really riveting. C+.

Roleplaying: Mindless. There’s a lot of these in this book, huh?

Atoth

Presentation: Both description and image are sufficiently spectacular. A+.

Mechanics: Well… this is very interesting. The idea is that when someone uses teleportation or the like, this monster shunts the target into a pocket dimension where it uses a mix of melee attacks with Con drain and some basic spell-like abilities to murder them. It’s the kind of thing that a good chunk of a campaign can be based around, especially since the range is one million miles. How far is that? Easily enough to cover one planet and its moons, but not enough to cover multiple planets (I checked). The fight looks interesting, and part of me wishes it was slightly lower CR so I might be able to run it sometime. A.

Lore: Hm, some points docked for the hungry undead trope, but it has a unique enough situation that connects to a different monster in the book. It’s pretty okay, but I would have liked to see more about how it operates. B.

Roleplaying: The primary appeal here is not as roleplay with it, but instead to roleplay around it. Imagine a world terrified to use teleportation because then the Atoth will get you. I definitely think there’s potential there! C+.

Aurumvorax

Presentation: Good picture, and the description isn’t bad. B+.

Mechanics: Very durable, and the setup is one I recognize from Pathfinder monsters: Natural attack with Grab, into Rake. The problem is that Starfinder doesn’t have Rake as a universal monster rule, and instead of adding it in manually the creator didn’t give them anything. This neuters the entire setup, the Aurumvorax can still do more bites to keep the grapple but it doesn’t get that sweet bonus Rake damage. C.

Lore: It’s the same as usual. An angry, heavy, badger-like thing that chews gold and fools. A few interesting notes. A-.

Roleplaying: A nice little mention that they can be trained if they’re picked up young, giving them a little bit of potential. D+.

Azaka

Another group that I’m going to all lump together, but this one is new. To me, at least.

Presentation: There’s a definite shared theme, good art, fair descriptions. A-.

Mechanics: The Hive Mind is an interesting take on the mechanic of the hive mind, and the mechanics of the creatures themselves seem effective enough. The Thoughtseeker is a caster, and the Warrior is a combatant, and both have fitting abilities. A-.

Lore: Hm, interesting enough, but very connected to the specific setting they’re made for. No real context on why and when they interact with the rest of the universe. B.

Roleplay: The hive mind is smart, but they’re just angry zerg-like creatures that want to enslave others and eat radioactive rocks. Not a lot to really RP with. D-.

Final Thoughts

This has been a trip. Some great examples, some absolute failures, a few great endgame monsters, a great CR1 monster, and this is only the first letter of the alphabet. Hit and miss, by all means, and an unusual amount of mindless creatures, but not really a super good claim toward or away from buying the book. This is a mixed bag, and for some people the good will be enough to make it worth it.

#Rate the monsters #Alien bestiary #Starfinder #I pasted this in from a word doc #not sure if that'll mess with the formatting #I feel like this book needed another editing pass #Editing isn't just proofreading #it's checking and cross-checking to be sure everything works together #and it's hard

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nelrunari · 5 years

Photo

❖ AND THE DREAM CALLS: ACHELOIS JOYEUSE.

Character Name: Achelois Joyeuse

Pronouns: she / her

Age: 21 / looks 18

Trigger Warnings: uncanny valley (?) / unreality / death / discrimination / terrorism (??) / body horror / she’s an android fam

Appearance:

image link here!

Personality:

your run of the mill android, achelois doesn’t seem that willing to acknowledge any non logical parts of herself, instead operating in a concise and calculated. despite this aloof demeanor, however, she is capable of deep and complex thought, with her largest struggle being whether or not this ability of hers was built into her or if she’s a defect. achelois is obsessed with perfection and validation from her peers, and will observe others extensively in order to hopefully be able to fit into society better. this keen mind and ability to adapt has made her quite adept at being the guildmaster, leader of the prestigious region of gwenhwyfar. research and innovation are two of her passions, and you’re more likely to find her stuck in a library or lab reading books or inventing something new. however, if you need help with your calculus homework, she’ll probably be able to go through the steps with you as long as you ask nicely.

a kind and thoughtful person trying to come into tune with her emotions, achelois is a calming presence to be around… even if she isn’t quite so intent on giving up her own thoughts and secrets to just anyone.

( + ): analytical / open-minded / dedicated

( - ): pessimistic / apathetic / nervous

Background:

it’s clear that at the end of a war, when everything is in shambles and movements need to be made in order to stimulate the slow growth of peace again, there needs to be some liberties taken when it comes to what can be considered typical.

that’s why guinevere joyeuse put part of their soul into a mess of crystal and metal and named it “A001”.

drawing from the practices of homunculi creation and the forbidden artes, the bright-eyed and brilliant scientist and her magitech creation were intent on rebuilding the hidden peaceland (dubbed gwenhwyfar in honor of its founding leader, how funny) not only to make it functional, but to make it better. guinevere, bothered by how cut off they had become from the rest of the world, made the resolve to use their newly found invention of magitechnology in order to create a network to even the farthest reaches of the frontier. they wanted to be able to unite the voices of the people and finally bring people together in spirit if not in proximity. however, the magic of the people were weak, tired. they had spent so much time trying to make buildings, streets, cities. who would want to go under and spread the wires of ilvyn shard all over? who would have the stamina to work day and night for it, who wouldn’t complain?

unit A001, dubbed “achelois joyeuse” by her creator, was perfect for this task. initially, it was quiet when they worked, with the more organic ones of the group doing their business around achelois while she pulled wire after wire down their designated path. but the people grew angry. “ why is this farce trying to assimilate into society?! “ “ who allowed her to be here, to look at us with her glassy eyes and cold heart? “ “ she’s just here to take our jobs away! “ achelois, unable to formulate the emotional intelligence to give a response, did nothing, instead opting to keep working whenever she was allowed to ( outside of the protest and the physical barricades made, there were times where she would have to return home and read instead ).

guinevere took it into her own hands to pull the ignorant child away from hateful hands and hearts, removing the entity from her mobile vessel and instead transferring her to a home computer, where she would be able to continue her work outside of the public eye. this worked, for the most part. the elder joyeuse had to put in extra effort to placate the people and gain their trust back, while achelois hammered away at her tasks, placid. her creator tried to talk with her, show her compassion and love and kindness, but the android could only stew over these concepts in her mind, not yet ready to display them in public. guinevere remained patient.

and then, one day, the mysterious entity known as the seer descended from the sky and locked eyes with the guildmaster of gwenhwyfar, before carrying along their merry way.

having been “marked” by the redeemer, something changed in guinevere. instead of leaving her daughter alone all the time, she made less public appearances and more time sitting in chelly’s room, talking to her for hours and trying to simulate something… anything. achelois was a type of distant that felt hesitant to come forward, so guinny pushed her again and again… without much progress, unfortunately. but they were never angry. perhaps a bit frustrated, but… in the end, they still came by everyday to talk to her. until she didn’t, that is.

achelois hears through the network that guinevere joyeuse is gone-- vanished without a trace. there is no hide nor hair of them, as if they had just disappeared in a puff of smoke, never to return. without a leader at the helm, the once peaceful and quiet region of gwenhwyfar erupted in paranoia and vicious rumors. no one knew who to trust anymore, or what to do. achelois ponders over this predicament, scanning over a million scenario components and a million more possible play out of the events. and… she feels a twinge of something, something quiet.

for the first time in years, she dons her humanoid vessel once more, black hair bleaching itself into white hues all at once. she had a place to protect, here. … a home.

of course those who were not fans of achelois before were certainly not fans of her return and sudden seizing of a leadership position, distrusting again of her intentions and humanity. but with a calm voice and determined stare, she pushed back, demanding that this chaos not be what would break a land that had been so intent on their pacifistic ways before. it takes time, but with enough trial and tribulation, the people slowly grow to like her and her methods, as blank as her in real life persona might be. she’s a good guildmaster, and treats the region well.

achelois doesn’t know it, but when she says that she likes them too, she actually means it.

Memento:

zeta - achelois' pet rabbit. she found him just wandering around gwenhwyfar one day, and was rather surprised to see him standing at her doorstep when she went out to work the next morning. he's a pretty prickly lad, but she adores him with her whole heart.

Natural Abilities:

android makeup:

does not breathe, as she doesn’t have lungs. she tries to mimic this motion in public, however.

has an extreme tolerance for both heat and cold, mostly due to her ability to sense either temperature is dulled. however, parts of her can still freeze and melt-- she keeps track of these readings inside of her and tries to avoid especially strenuous limits despite not feeling the pain of it.

as mentioned before, she has no sense of pain. she is bad at emulating this, so most likely she will disturb people who think that getting hit by a baseball in the face at mach speed should be decidedly agonizing.

is “semi-waterproof”, whatever that means.

magic programs:

achelois’ magic and powers mostly center around that of support and status effects, freezing enemies in their tracks while she bolsters your attacks to be all the stronger. of course, she is plenty capable of going on the offensive, weighing you down with gravity magic while she chips away at your strength bit by bit.

the visible manifestation of her magic comes in the form of silken ribbons-- their colors detail their effects!

shades of blues can be coolants or ice magic,

whites are light and healing,

reds are fire and heating,

black is gravity and dreams,

yellows and greens are toxin based,

and gold and silver are metal and strengthening based.

to give an example, when achelois summons forth a spell, runes of the color will appear on the target, and then become wrapped by a blooming ribbon. offensive ones will sink into one’s skin and eventually cause pain, the ribbon showing a physical effect of what’s happening within. support ones will multiply over one’s body and try to encase them while once again emitting their effect below the target’s skin.

ADDENDUM: Her magic programs may drain more of her energy than usual, especially when using gravity-based ones! Usage of multiple programs within a short amount of time will tire her out!

Power History:

metal smithing: achelois has the ability to summon forth metal and weave it into different shapes, ranging from computer chips to swords. the bigger an object is, the more energy it takes, so she usually sticks with small stuff.

programming: oh hackerman? achelois can take control of machines and fix them from the inside. she can do this non magically too, but this is kinder on machines.

Extra:

achelois comes from an original concept shared with some friends called vespera frontier. while we do take history and systematic info from it, this is an entirely different achelois than the one that anyone encountered in the mfrp vespera frontier. she’s from a past point of the story (about 12 years ago), where she’s been the guildmaster of gwenhwyfar for about 8 years.

5’4”... small...

her eyes change color depending on if she experiences any interference magic or coding wise. she can, of course, also change it herself, but decides not to.

is admittedly not used to using her fingers to type, since her equivalent to a phone was stored in her chest and she just thought up her responses and had them appear. mind-to-text, anyone?

she’s more empathetic than she thinks she is.

achelois has a baby face. she will never be able to grow out of this. because of it, she appears to be 18… eternally.

there’s a toolkit in her arm, you just need to ask for a tool and she’ll “check in her bag” to get it.

❖ Nelrunari Section ❖

Ward: Agaysta

Player Tag: Here

❖ OOC Section ❖

Name/Alias: kaye

Contact: sacrificeheir @ twitter

Age: 20

Pronouns: she / her

#nelru apps #pc ( kaye )#char ( achelois joyeuse )

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septic-dr-schneep · 6 years

Note

Ahhh I love Chase and Jameson!! What would happen if Jameson had to take care of Chase for a change? Like if Chase got sick at work and JJ had to help him?

Well, now, that’s a way to switch things up!

JSE Fanfiction - Not Going Anywhere

Summary: Chase overworks himself and manages to make himself sick. To make matters worse, the text he sends asking for someone to pick him up goes to the wrong person.

“Hey, hey…take it easy. You just passed out.”

Blinking blearily against the fluorescent lights that swam overhead,Chase lifted an arm that felt heavier than the entirety of his weight to shieldhis eyes. As he peeked between his fingers, he could make out the face of hiscameraman, Stanley, hovering over him. “Dude…” Memory poured back in all atonce and he stiffened, blurting out, “We’re—we’re gonna have to retake thatshot—You turned the camera off before I bombed it, right?”

“Honestly I think that’s the least important thing to worry about rightnow,” Stanley remarked. “Whoa, don’t try to sit up! You’re white as a sheet andI think you got a fever. You need—”

“All I need is to make sure my viewers aren’t freaking out; there’snothin’—I—I’m fine,” Chase stammered hurriedly, pushing himself up on hiselbows and then rolling sideways onto hands and knees. His breath stuttered atthe rolling nausea that plummeted into his stomach at the sudden motion. “I’mfine,” he muttered as he let his head hang a little lower, waiting for thedizziness to settle.

“Bro, you really should call in,” Stanley insisted, fishing Chase’s phoneout of his pocket and sliding it over the carpet next to his hand. “C’mon.”

“Not a chance,” Chase huffed shakily, ignoring how his arms ached andtrembled as he pushed off his hands to rise. He was expecting to at least makeit to the door before he needed to grab something, but he only managed tostumble a yard or two before the floor dipped underneath him, a dark mistcascaded over his eyes and his body listed in the wrong direction. Distantly heheard Stanley yelp in alarm before he crumpled sideways over the conferencetable, gasping for breath. For a moment or two he simply stayed where he was,turning his cheek into the cool comfort of the tabletop before Stanley draggedhim upright and steered him into the nearest chair.

“Chase, you’re not going anywhere except home, to bed,” hesnapped, snatching up his phone and pressing it firmly into the vlogger’s hand,wrapping his fingers around it with a finalizing squeeze. “Call or text someone.”

“…M’kay. M’kay.” Panting as he abruptly found himself out of breath,Chase fumbled shaking fingers over his cell screen in clumsy swipes, the rightnumbers eluding him for three or four tries before it finally unlocked.

The text he sent was more or less nothing but a jumbled mess; hopefullyit would make enough sense for Marvin to know he needed to pick him up. Withthat out of the way, Chase let his phone drop into his lap and leaned his headback against the chair’s padding, inhaling deeply and listening to his heartrace.

“Thanks, Stan,” he mumbled, to which the cameraman said something oranother about putting out a tweet to reassure fans of the channel beforepatting his shoulder and heading out of the room. Now that he was alone withthe silence, Chase let his eyes slip closed.

Cool, calloused hands touching his face made him startle slightly,lifting his aching head with a deep grimace. “Marv?”

“Oh, my, you’rescalding!”

As Chase’s dazed eyes landed on the speech slide hovering in front ofhim, they widened. “Jameson? What…what’re you doin’ here?”

“You sent for me!” the younger Ego protested worriedly. “I received amessage from the device you bought for me, saying you’d fallen ill and youneeded help!”

As he sat up straighter in the chair, Chase leaned too far forward andhad to set his elbows on his knees to keep from pitching onto the floor as hegroaned out a curse. “That was meant for Marvin…”

“TheMagnificent had a meeting with his stage manager this afternoon; he’s alreadygone,” Jameson reminded him, wringing his hands fretfully as he watched Chasemassage his forehead. After another minute, he huffed determinedly and squaredhis shoulders. “Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll get you home and taken care of.”

“Aw, Jem, you don’t have to bother…I can…”

“Absolutelynot, sir! I may not be able to magically heal you but I have no intention ofstanding idly by. Speaking of which, give me your arm.”

Judging by how he was already pocketing Chase’s phone and reaching tograsp his hand, it didn’t seem like he going to take no for an answer, so Chaseallowed it, remarking wryly, “I don’t think Marv would be able to magicallyheal me either—or maybe he’s holdin’ out on me.” Once their fingers wereentwined, he was a little startled at the strength behind Jameson’s heave. Itwas undermined by the gentleness of the arm wrapping around his waist thatfollowed, though.

“Lean on meif you feel the need,” Jameson urged kindly as they shuffled toward thedoor.

“S’okay,” Chase assured him again. Jameson didn’t respond, so he couldn’tbe sure whether or not he believed him.

The need to lean on him really didn’t surface until they made it into thetaxi and the drive home started. The sudden stops and starts at the lights andthe swerving turns were butchering his stomach; the longer it went on, theharder Chase found it to swallow—the more he needed to swallow. Jameson’s arm remained firmly around his back,his hand squeezing his side.

“Easy now,” he soothed,brows knitting in understated worry. “Deep breaths, Chase, deep breaths. We’realmost there, it won’t be long…”

Even with JJ’s reassurances, Chase was quite seriously consideringthrowing himself out of the taxi by the time Egos Incorporated appeared beforethem. Somehow or another they made it down the hall to his bedroom before his weakenedlegs gave out under the dizziness; as they did, Jameson jumped and twisted in away his body probably wasn’t meant to as he tried to steer Chase onto the bedinstead of the floor.

He landed face first in the sheets, moaning something unintelligible inmingled relief and discomfort. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jamesonspeaking but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his head and look. If hemade a guess, the younger Ego was probably asking if he needed anything else.

“Got a headache,” he mumbled, sliding a hand up over his head and gropinginelegantly around for the bedside table. When that proved ineffective, he gaveup, letting his arm fall limply over the side of the bed. “Jays, there’s…whiskeythere somewhere…”

“Absolutelynot!” Jameson exclaimed indignantly, his words going unseen. “Whiskey isnot a substitute for proper medicines! I’ll go fetch something more fitting.”As he turned away, he gave his vest an agitated tug, shaking his head. “I’llneed to send a message to the doctor and ask what may be suitable…The names onthose bottles are far beyond me!”

When Chase waited and heard JJ’s footsteps retreating instead of thefamiliar, comforting sloshes of whiskey dancing in its bottle, he sighedgroggily. “Okay. Guess I’ll just sleep it off then…” Kicking off his shoes witha bit of a struggle, he took a breath and held it, hoping that the nausea wouldbe suppressed with it as he eased himself over onto his back.

His body pillow was there at his side by the wall, soft and inviting, butit took only a minute after he hugged it against his chest for its case toabsorb his feverish heat and become uncomfortable. Fine, he mused grudgingly ashe shoved it away. He was already exhausted enough that he had a feeling hecould fall asleep without it.

On the other side of the house, Jameson rifled haphazardly through thedoctor’s cabinets, glancing every so often at the message Schneeplestein hadsent in reply to his question. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry at how untidythe various medical bottles were becoming under Jameson’s probing hands; he wasin a hurry to get back to Chase before Chase tried again to reach for thatwhiskey. The anxiety churning in his gut didn’t particularly help him keepeverything straight either.

By all of the others’ accounts, it was rare for Chase to fall ill.Jackieboy and the doctor himself seemed to have the weaker immune systems inthe group, while Jameson had yet to see Marvin even break a sweat that wasn’trelated to a true injury. Chase, however—Chase was meant to remain untouchable.The lingering sensation of the heat in his palms as he’d cupped his face andhugged his back was alarming.

Even more alarming was the fact that by the time he got back, Chase wasalready dead asleep, his breathing slow and heavy. The man had the energy anddrive of one of those electric batteries Jameson had learned of! He wasn’tmeant to fall asleep so quickly…He wasn’t meant be so pallid…He wasn’t meant tohave those dark rings underneath his eyes…He just wasn’t.

Pursing his lips tightly, Jameson set the pain medication on the bedsidetable. “I ought not to expect so much of you,” he murmured. “But whenyou’re out of sorts, you have me out of sorts, my fine fellow.”

Beyond that, he didn’t know what to say. He knew Chase wasn’t hearinghim, so what was the point? He didn’t have any intention of leaving either. Exhalingshortly, he leaned to his left and took up the whiskey bottle on instinct,examining how much of it was left. Not much, but Chase wouldn’t notice if hehad a sip, would he?

The sip became two or three sips, which became a hasty hand on top of hishat so he could tilt his head back for a swig. He was a gentleman, however; he wouldn’t take all of another man’swhiskey! What he had was just enough to bolster him, help him find it inhimself to take off his hat, crawl up onto the bed next to the older Ego andcurl into the crook of his arm.

As the bedsprings creaked, Chase twitched and shivered faintly, ahalf-formed murmur leaving his lips as he turned his head away, and Jamesonpromptly stilled, making himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t disturbhim any further. Only once the vlogger’s higher, shorter gasps eased back intodeeper breathing did Jameson release his own, swallowing hard.

It occurred to him then that such close proximity may very well get himsick as well, but now Chase was shivering steadily and his hand was instinctivelytightening on the fabric of Jameson’s vest.

“I’m notgoing anywhere,” the younger Ego concluded, peeking pensively up atChase’s pale, clammy features. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The second time, it was a promise.

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #chase brody #jameson jackson #dapper jack #sickfic #sickies being sick #whump #chameson #i live for queerplatonic chase and jj #hurt comfort #fluff for days #overworking #answered ask #Anonymous

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