#every show needs a muppet au i think

[c4ndyc41n]

I am the monster you created

who can i commission to sing this in a kermit voice

#intrusive 3am thoughts #every show needs a muppet au i think #jinx #jinx arcane #arcane #kermit #the muppets #setting the stage with this bad boy #to lower expectations #cains candy #artists on tumblr #im serious about the comm #JKSHDJSH

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Twelve: Turn the Corner

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Angst, cursing, some deep conversations, forgiveness, fluff, and a lil bit of smut. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: So, I thought there'd be a couple more chapters, but Joel said no. He wanted the tale to end here, so it does. What can I say, that man gets what he wants. There will be an epilogue, though. He's not the total boss of me. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Days after the fall, you felt a lot better. Physically, at least.

Emotionally? That was an entirely different story. You didn’t know how you felt, torn between two dueling desires – one for self-respect along with the respect you are due from Joel and the other a life with Joel. Was it too much to hope for both at the same time?

You and Joel still hadn’t talked about that morning, each of you dancing in circles around the topic but never coming right out to discuss it. There was no getting around it, you knew that, but still you hesitated. Why was it so hard?

Joel, being a man of action, showed you he was trying every minute after you were hurt. He took exceptional care of you, making sure you wanted for nothing as you recovered. His efforts bordered on too much after a few days, leaving you wanting a bit of space to think. Despite the care he took of you, you couldn’t get past the hurt in your heart once the pain in your head eased.

The anguish in his big, brown eyes when you told him you needed space haunted you, but you stood strong in your convictions. The return to your cabin was surreal after the luxury of Joel’s quarters and spacious bed, but it was necessary to decompress and sort through all the jumbled thoughts bouncing around in your muddled mind.

“Ah, the prodigal bunk mate returns!” Tess teased as you sauntered into the cabin the morning before the next charter started. “Finally gracing us mere peasants with your presence, are you?”

“Oh, shove off, ya muppet,” you snarked, plopping down on your bunk. Holy hell, Joel’s bed was a lot more comfortable that this lumpy pile of cotton and springs, you thought.

“How are you feeling?” Tess jumped down from her bed to perch herself at the end of yours.

You shrugged. “Physically, I’m fine.”

A single eyebrow arced upwards, reading between the lines as always. “And emotionally?”

Again, you shrugged, tears tickling the back of your eyes at the soft, sympathetic look on Tess’s face. The pair of you leant back against opposite bulkheads of your bunk and Tess stretched her legs, softly bumping her knee against yours.

“Let it off your chest, Brit,” Tess encouraged. “Better out than in, as they say.”

A snort escaped before you could stop it. “I think ‘they’ were referring to vomit, Tess.”

“Whatever, the sentiment is still the same. You need to vent and I’m here for it.” Tess smiled, a little mischief glinting in her eyes. “Plus, I’ve known Joel a long time. I’m well aware of what an emotionally constipated fuckwit he can be sometimes.”

That drew a laugh from you, which you realized was her goal. “He really can be, yeah?��

“You have no idea,” Tess agreed with a chuckle. “He’s gotten a lot better with age, but he’s still a man, so of course he’s as dumb as a box of rocks when it comes to emotional intelligence and expressing himself properly.”

The two of you spent the morning chatting as you recounted your view of things between you and Joel and Tess shared some insights into Joel’s mindset and how he’s tripping all over himself to make things right again. It was an enjoyable morning, especially once the conversation moved away from Joel and more onto Tess’s life and what she like to do during off season.

As you chatted, you briefly thought back to the initial days on the yacht, how you thought she and Joel were an item, and how much that bummed you out. Knowing the both of them as you now did, the idea of them as a couple was laughable. Tess would run circles around him until inevitably driving him crazy.

Around mid-day, Sarah joined you both, bearing leftover sandwiches that Tess made yesterday. She squeezed in between the two of you, her back against the bulkhead wall. It was a tight fit with three grown women and the low ceiling of the top bunk looming overhead, but you all made it work.

The addition of Sarah raised your spirits further. She was such a spitfire, caring and witty, and always ready and willing to throw her father under the bus for one thing or another.

“My dad’s an idiot,” she blurted around a mouthful of food as you lamented once again on not knowing how to proceed. “But he’s an idiot in love, anyone can see that.”

That stopped you in your tracks.

Eyes wide and unbelieving, you stared at Sarah. “You think he’s in love with me?”

Meeting your gaze head on, Sarah nodded, dark brown eyes speaking volumes. “Oh, I know he’s in love with you. He told me yesterday. It’s why he’s so distraught over everything and why he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until now.”

“Geez, kid, you don’t think he’d want to be the one to tell her something like that?” Tess chimed in with a chuckle, shaking her head at the younger woman.

Still stunned, you just sat there staring between the two of them. Joel was in love with you. He was in love with you.

“I’m in love with him, too.” You didn’t even realize you spoke the words aloud until you noticed Sarah and Tess staring at you with bright, knowing smiles on their faces.

“Duh,” Sarah teased, patting your leg. “We already knew that.”

Nodding, Tess added, “Maybe it’s time for the two of you to sit down and have a very serious conversation. Get it out of the way before this next charter starts.”

An hour and a shower later, you found yourself making your way to the bridge in search of Joel. The girls were right, this would all weigh on your mind until Joel and you sat down and had a serious chat. But what would you say? How do you even start a conversation like the one you needed to have?

You practiced some openers on your way up the decks, mumbling them to yourself with each step. Joel, you great knob head… No, no, that wouldn’t work. Joel, you bloody prat… Why was everything your brain came up with some variation of a British insult? You did not want to sling insults at the man, just let him know how very hurt you were.

Before you knew it – and well before you thought of the right words to say – you found yourself at the door to the bridge. It was now or never. You opened the door with a shaky hand, stepping through only to find Frank manning the helm. Your face dropped before you could stop it, but your lips quickly tilted upwards into a smile, oddly relieved.

“Hey doll, what are you up to?” Frank’s warm smile immediately calmed your frayed nerves. “Looking for Joel?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought it due time to talk.”

Frank smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, it’s definitely that. You two have a lot to figure out. He’s in his quarters.” Gesturing around the corner with a supportive nod, he added, “Good luck, not that you need it. Joel might, though.”

Flashing Frank a grateful half smile, you edged towards Joel’s room, knuckles rapping on the door twice after a deep breath. Maybe you should have asked Frank for pointers on how to start the conversation. Too late now. You’d just have to go with whatever came out of your mouth and hope for the best.

The door opened to reveal Joel, dark curls awry and thick glasses framing his red-rimmed eyes. In a word, he was a mess. You wondered if he even left his quarters since you returned to yours. Glancing around, it didn’t look like it. That made you feel better. He was as wrecked about things as you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes apprehensive and distressed. “Everythin’ alright? Is your headache back?”

Even a mess, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway was a sight to behold. God, he was too handsome for words. And his obvious worry over you only made him more so. Clearing your throat, you reminded yourself why you were standing in his doorway mere hours after insisting you needed space.

“Can we talk?”

His brows darted up in surprise. “Uh, sure, yeah, of course.” Joel eyed you for a few moments, clearly uncertain about what to do or say, before adding, “Do you, uh, want to talk here or go somewhere less…”

Your lips tilted up as he trailed off, knowing his brain was working a mile a minute to find his words. “Here’s fine. It will give us privacy.” Your response visibly stunned him. He obviously wasn’t expecting that response from you.

Stepping back after another long moment, Joel ushered you into his private space. The bed still unmade from when you left first thing that morning, you opted to sit in the chair at the desk along the bulkhead, leaving Joel to take a seat on a corner of the bed. You stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to start, until you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

After a few false starts, you were finally able to find your words.

“Joel, I’m in love with you, but you hurt me. Like really hurt me. And I don’t know how to come back from that.” You watched the expression on his face vacillate from awed and hopeful to wounded and regretful.

“Sweetheart –” he started, his dark eyes round and wet and not quite meeting yours, but you cut him off.

“I know that morning was hard for you, that you were hesitant to start anything with me during season to begin with, but you made the conscious choice to take things further. You did that and still you made it out to be my fault the moment something didn’t go right. You made me the fall guy. That… that really hurt. And it wasn’t fair.”

You paused, already feeling a heavy weight lifted from your chest at having spoken your peace, giving Joel the opportunity to respond. His beautiful brown eyes were large and glassy, lips in a pout as he searched for words to justify his actions, but there were none, you both knew. He was silent so long, dejectedly staring at you that you opened your mouth to say more when he finally found his words.

“I’m an utter asshole, sweetheart. I told you the other day, I won’t do you the disrespect of giving you poor excuses. I was completely in the wrong. I know it, you know it, everyone on this damn boat knows it – believe me, I’ve heard it from nearly every one of them. And I’m glad they feel comfortable enough in this environment and with me to defend you and put me in my place.”

Your lips quirked at that, causing his own to tilt upwards slightly. “We have great people on this crew,” you admitted fondly. Joel’s smile widened ever so slightly.

“I never meant to hurt you – never intended to treat you like I did. I’m ashamed, plain and simple.” Joel cleared his throat, hands running up and down his thighs in a nervous tick. “I can only promise to do better because I love you, sweetheart, and I never want to be the cause of your pain.”

Your eyes leaked fat droplets of saltwater down your cheeks. “You love me?” Even though Sarah basically told you already, it was completely different hearing those words directly from Joel’s lips, the rough timber in his voice matching the sincerity in his gaze.

He nodded, flashing you a watery smile. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I don’t even know how it happened so quickly, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll never regret falling in love with you.”

“Joel…” you drew out his name in a long sigh. “I love you, too, but you can’t ever treat me like that again. It’s perfectly fine to be nervous or scared, but we need to communicate rather than snap and push each other away. Okay?”

Joel stood, nodding solemnly as he moved to kneel before you. “I understand. I promise to never treat you like that again. I promise to work on my communication skills. I promise to spend every day proving that I’m worthy of your love.”

His hands clutched your waist by the time he finished speaking. You ran your fingers through his thick curls, mussing them further as you pulled him in for a kiss. The press of his lips against yours soft and sweet, it almost felt like the first time again.

Your heart still hurt, but the pain ebbed away with every soft touch and loving word from Joel. Everything in you told you to forgive him but not let your guard down fully, still wary of getting hurt further. As if he could sense your hesitation, Joel held you close, asking you to stay the night in his quarters. You couldn’t deny him, wanting to connect physically to ease the residual emotional ache.

Joel spread you out on his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your dewy skin with reverence, as if he needed to sear the taste and feel of you into his memory. He worshiped your body from head to toe, no spot left unexplored. You longed to return each kiss, each tender touch, but Joel insisted this evening was all about you. There would be plenty of time to explore him later.

“I adore you,” he whispered into the soft skin behind your knee.

“I ache for you,” he murmured against your belly.

“I. Love. You,” he said with finality before his lips connected once more with yours.

Shooting stars flashed across your closed eyelids when Joel slipped his cock inside you. Rocking with the gentle flex of his hips, he moved inside you, cock caressing that spongey spot that set you ablaze with each thrust. His mouth alternated between fervent kisses to nibbling on your earlobes and whispering lovely, naughty things in your ears.

It was so different from the other times you had sex together. It was softer, sweeter, and somehow more intimate and meaningful than the other times combined. This… this was making love, you thought. Something you’d never experienced before, and you wondered how you ever lived without it.

You came hard at the realization, giving into every feeling Joel drew from you with his movements and words, the fluttering of your walls around him nearly choking his cock. He came shortly after, stilling as he spilled inside you with a drawn-out cry of your name.

You stayed just as you were, your body beneath Joel’s, his cock still sheathed inside you, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing right into the very essence of each other. This was love. The caring, the forgiving, the open vulnerability… the cracking wide open of your souls to admit that you were hurt or scared and finding the strength to admit flaws and love in spite of them, or because of them.

Life and love were imperfect, and there was beauty in those imperfections.

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you whispered into the night, falling asleep with your head tucked into the curve of his neck, his warm skin blanketing you better than the warmest down comforter ever could.

The echo of your name sounded far away as Joel whispered the words back to you.

This. This was love.

The final weeks of the charter season passed in a blur with long days of work and longer nights of pleasure. The two of you could not get enough of each other, not caring about the exhaustion from limited sleep. You never returned to your cabin for sleeping after that night full of confessions and new beginnings with Joel. It was no surprise to any of the crew, really. There were no secrets on the yacht, nor any talk of impropriety or special treatment. Every person on that boat could see the love practically floating in the air between the two of you as if it was a tangible thing you could hold in your hands.

To demonstrate their approval of the two of you together, the crew placed bets on how soon you’d move to Austin, how soon you’d get engaged, how soon you’d get married. Those little buggers bet on everything when it came to you and Joel. They didn’t bother to hide it either, flaunting the board in your faces with Tommy proudly taking the lead as bookmaker. You couldn’t even be mad about it. They were all just so damn happy for you both, it was infectious.

Once the final round of charter guests departed, Joel took the yacht back out to sea for one last day and the crew celebrated with a party on the sundeck. Tommy and Jake emptied the lazarette of all the water toys for the crew to enjoy. Tess cooked up some delicious tapas on the barbecue. Sammy played DJ with the massive collection of songs on his phone And Sarah, sweet Sarah, made sure the sundeck bar was fully stocked with everyone’s favorite alcohol.

After racing around on a jet ski with Joel, the pair of you settled into the hot tub, sharing a bottle of wine as you watched Tommy, Ellie, Tess, and the interior crew dance around the deck in cheap, fake grass skirts they dug up from who knows where. Frank and Bill sat on the loungers sharing their own bottle of wine, Bill scowling away at the raucous behavior of the others. You would miss every single one of these people who became friends who were more like family to you in a few short months.

You marveled at that. Everything moved faster on the yacht, but what was time, really, when you forged such connections that would last a lifetime?

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #pedrostories #joel x f!reader

[pan-flute-skeleton]

I wish you would write a fic where... Kari feels compelled to put a member of Dethklok in their place by any means necessary

Okay I think I got one. This one is related to the small pocket AU I got going on with @raddouchebag's Bastian where they a happy couple with two daughters. It warms my heart every time I think about them and the unit, but this is a story of Kari putting Dethklok in their place. And for this, I chose Pickles for something he did. So please enjoy.

She perfected the waddle. Any minute, Kari was going to burst and bring their second daughter to the world. The conversation she needed to have could have been done earlier, but scheduling conflicts and morning sickness really made things difficult. But she knew where he was, where always hid when he was alone. Passed out in his bed surrounded by beer cans and bottles. The stale smell of malt in the carpet and stagnant vomit in the toilet nearly made her turn around and flee. But it was now or leave it to chance in the future.

"Pickles, wake up!" Kari shouted.

He rustled over his bedsheets, crust cracking over the Egyptian cotton. Pickles rubbed his eyes and flicked eye boogers onto his pillow. "Mornin' mama. Whatcha need?"

"We needs to talks." Kari tried not to look at the filth, but it was hard when Pickles himself was so filthy.

"Sure, yeah, can we do it o'er some coffee at least?"

"No, right nows." She took a step closer, baring him, "Heidi wills be here any day now. Bastian and I ams very excited for Katja to have a sister."

"Hopin' it's a better deal than Seth and I for them."

"Yes, t'ank you. But Is needs to make someting very clears to you."

"Whut? Am I off babysittin' dooty?"

"You ams not to do what you did before. That cans not happen agains."

Pickles crossed his arms and straightened up, "I don' know whatcher talkin' bout."

"Shuts up! You do!" The shout made him jump. Kari steadied herself, trying not to get too worked up. "I knows it was you who showed Katja de Muppets. Yous knew Bastian had the fears."

"Pssssh," he scoffed, "I mean I didn'..." Kari glared, burning right through his soul, "w-w-what I mean is...I was just messin' wit him."

"And you ams to never do that EVERS AGAIN!" Her anger made her loom over him, casting her shadow. "Yous wills not meddle wit my family any mores. Or else."

She didn't know what 'or else' would be, but she heard it in enough movies to know it meant business. Kari kicked cans away to make a path for herself and left Pickles with that stern boundary. Heidi was born the next day.

#metalocalypse #mtl oc #original character #answered #kari naelstrom #bastian kitzler #pickles the drummer #Stand for your man

[susandsnell]

Crane: 12, 27, 30

Thanks so much for sending this! <3

Send a character and a number/several numbers, and i’ll answer:

12. Sexuality hc!

I have my biases in this, I'll admit, but I genuinely read the not-so-good Doctor as bi/pan in that I don't think he particularly cares about gender when it comes to his attractions and there's textual support over the years with various iterations of him showing interest in or having chemistry with both women and men. Yes, yes, Have a Gay Old Time and all that, but his intro comic suggests, "he certainly is a queer fellow" - given that his Year One backstory is a gender-flipped Carrie, itself popularly read as a gay allegory (hell, I think his bullies even were specifically homophobic towards him), given the long affinity between LGBT+ folk and horror/identifying with the horror monsters, and even given how blissed out Nolan!Crow looked getting his hair pulled by Batman, I'd say there's a lot to work with there.

27. If they could meet a character from another show/movie/etc, who would be the most fun for them to meet?

Absolutely love this one! I've already had a ton of fun speculating with you about him meeting Dani Ardor of Midsommar, fitting because she's even a psych major if I remember correctly, and going back and forth with what could be done with such an AU. Honestly, any horror villain and/or hero(ine) would suit him because what's so great about Crane is that as Scarecrow he works within any text to reveal a character's deepest fears and relationship with fear, while also having an academic/professional interest in them as a psychiatrist. I do think I've seen posts on here speculating on the fun he'd have with Jack Seward as a potential ally and/or rival/disappointing colleague, so that's a definite one also! And because I'm predictable, it would likely not be healthy (in that he would enable/encourage her most violent instincts, but hey, at least theyr'e supporting each other?) but at least a little touching and sweet that he'd be a needed avuncular figure to Carrie White.

30. The funniest scene they had? Oh, gosh, hard to pick just one! When old school Crane declared his plan was to commit heists for more money to buy books? When he beefs it so completely and utterly with Becky and has the chutzpah to think her issue with him is that she wants him to alter that godawful Mistress of Fear straw corset and muppet mask costume? "This is a perfectly rational response to my traumatic experiences, and if you don't believe me, I'll kill you!"? His little dance of joy out the window in the first volume of Year One? The entirety of his appearance in Happy Halloween, Scooby Doo, an extension of his habit of just Showing Up Places He Has No Business Being (including other canons)? On that note, literally everything he does in the Dark Knight Trilogy as he Barbies his way through every villainous profession in Gotham's gig economy? (Though going down that easy in Batman Begins and his sassy little strut out of the truck in The Dark Knight are highlights.) For such a frightening and tragic character, the guy is funny as hell!

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #bat-tag #cranerot #thanks for sending! <3 #ask night

[hephaestuscrew]

Muppet Wolf 359 Survey Highlights Part 1

In no particular order, here are some of the responses I particularly enjoyed from my survey about which character would be the only one played by a human in a muppet adaptation of Wolf 359. I’ve put people’s answers before their explanations and then given some of my thoughts. I am probably going to do at least one more of these posts because I was copying my favourite answers into a document and it ended up being 4 pages long.

The rest of the responses can be viewed here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1ai7N_MI69bkgLoJG2Mnnf5MW0AfvTlEoYXi8sok5Ir8/edit?usp=sharing

Blessie - i'd love to see blessie as just Some Guy™ in a bright green body suit and a pink little fake flower on his head but everyone else is still as scared of it..

This might be my favourite answer. The wonderfully stupid chaos energy of this concept makes me extremely glad I put an 'Other' option on the survey. 

Cutter - honestly just visualizing how fucking funny the harpoon scene would be,,,,,,,,, also adds to the inhuman aspects of him if he's the Only One

A few people described the comedic potential of a human man being harpooned by a muppet and all of you are right. That scene would be hilarious. (more below the cut)

Kepler - human kepler being be ejected into space by muppet rachel is a need

Kepler - I just want Kepler to get a gun pointed at him by a muppet

These two represent a whole genre of answer and it's valid.

Hera - She deserves legs more than anyone else.

To me, this is the most compelling argument for Hera as the only human.

Kepler - Muppets are the only beings that are willing to listen to all of Kepler's Whiskey monologue

This would make every Wolf 359 listener a muppet, which.. Yeah.

Lovelace - what if pryce and cutter were. like. statler and waldorf. it wouldn't make sense but i think it would be funny NO WAIT dear listeners are statler and waldorf and instead of loving our music they fucking hate it and want to find us so they can tell us to shut the fuck up

Lol first contact after the star goes blue is just the Dear Listeners heckling (something like “Call that a space station? I’ve seen more convincing space stations in my garbage bin! Ha ha ha!”)

Kepler - changed my mind and decided it should be kepler HOWEVER this is not a muppet AU, it is a goddard training simulation. with kepler and the muppets.

Cutter would do this. Forget Box 953, Box 952 was full of muppets.

Cutter - i have never watched wolf 359 but i feel like cutter has the most muppet-esque name so it would be funny if they weren't the muppet

Why is this person doing the survey?? I almost respect them for giving actual reasoning despite not even knowing that Wolf 359 is a podcast. If this was a deciding vote I'd disqualify it, but it isn't. Another person admitted to not knowing who the characters were but they were kinda rude about it.

Eiffel because the reveal of everyone else being muppets would be like soooo funny. Imagine, if you will, Doug in the first episode making his log. He is the only character we see so we assume everything is normal. He is then talking to the disembodied voice of Hera (as she is an ai program with no need for a body) AND THEN Minkowski shows up and is a literal muppet cue laughter

This is even better if Minkowski calls Eiffel a muppet (as in the insult) over the Comms and then she walks in and she is a literal muppet.

Jacobi - :3 it was a tough choice, but i decided Hilbert's sister wouldnt get enough screen time for it to be funny

On the contrary, this is hilarious. I can’t get over the idea that the entire show is muppets apart from a tragic two-minute flashback in which Olga Volodin is a human and her brother is a muppet and there is no explanation.

Hilbert - I for one cannot conceive of a muppet calculating which of their crew members to infect with a deadly engineered virus. Also I think it would be funny

Minkowski - well otherwise you have to have a Muppet run armed thru the station after a semisentient plant monster and that just doesn't seem okay :P

These two people both decided they needed to draw the line about what muppets can do, but they drew different lines.

Eiffel - PURELY because of him not being as down for murder as the others. Everyone's so bonkers that that is the only threshold I can see to separate Muppet from human

This is the exact opposite of the responses above. Muppet equals down for murder, I guess.

Eiffel - going to work through the reasoning first. ok so my initial instinct would be to say minkowski. but then i thought to myself no--pupper minkowski would be really cute, a puppet ordering people about would be badass, plus idk i want there to be homoerotic tension between her n lovelace and i think that altho theres technically nothing wrong w muppet/human homoerotic tension it just isnt the same as muppet/muppet homoerotic tension u know??? so that rules out lovelace and minkowski.

next on the no list is hera. she doesnt have a body. it would be funny if she just showed up in like. in memoria as a human but no. also i think that characters who arent in it that much shouldnt be the one human

that rules out pryce, bob, and probably cutter as well

hilbert should be a muppet and also he should be played by both the grumpy old muppets. but theres not two of him they just take it turns to play him. they wear different clothes and sometimes argue about who has to go on or something. idk im freestyling now.

now. eiffel as the human

this is spicy

i like it bcos it means that literal muppets are all more competant than him.

literal muppets

the term used when someone is being a fool

unless thats just something my dad says. i doubt it but also u never know w dads

bcos. kepler as the human would work but i think that honestly. wolf being all muppetsand then a human shows up is. ehhhh

but then again. contradicting myself. it would be nice to have human lovelace or minkowski bcos. i am gay and i do not want to be thirsting after a fucking muppet you get me???? this is a hard decision and i am leaning towards eiffel you know i am. but minkowskiiiii........ arms..............

ok no. no i am not going to throw away the homoerotic muppet tension for the sake of a nice pair of arms. god i love arms. when women have muscular arms >>>>>>>>>> sorry what was i saying? oh yeah eiffel. he should be the one human

There's just a lot going on with this answer. I feel like I've gained a profound insight into this person's psyche. I love the hilarious stream of consciousness vibe but also I will be forever haunted by the phrase "homoerotic muppet tension" and even more so by the concept of "muppet/human homoerotic tension" (God are there muppetfuckers out there?? I didn't want that idea in my head…) 

#I loved so many of the answers but this is just a selection of some of the very many extremely entertaining ones #Muppet Hephaestus #The empty man posteth

[absynthe--minded]

In your opinion, what qualifies as a "good" book-to-film adaptation? Does it need to follow every detail and beat in the book to the letter, or is it more important to capture the heart of the characters and the greater themes of the story at the cost of changes to the source material?

(I'm largely referring to LOTR here, but you could apply this to any other example you see fit)

so the thing about LotR specifically, and about the Legendarium as a whole, that makes it different from other properties, is how intricate it is. this is a multi-millennial epic spanning tens of thousands of years, and everything that happens in it happens at specific times for specific reasons. @monstrousgourmandizingcats pointed out to me that the Rings of Power were forged at a very specific time in Númenorean history as well as elvish history - this was before Númenor was the colonizing superpower that it was at the end of the Second Age, so doing something like smacking Isildur into the middle of this drama makes no sense whatsoever. the amount of depth that's present in the worldbuilding is intense compared to basically any other fandom I've been in, and the level of consistency is remarkably high, even in terms of the drafts (there is a definitive canon imo, and adhering to that is difficult but worth doing)

my frustrations with Amazon's show are mostly stemming from the fact that the things it's doing - condensing the timeline, mashing all the characters together, mixing heraldry and familial sigils, deciding that for some reason the Harfoots are now proto-Hobbits rather than a Hobbit ethnic group - are fucking with that established world. Instead of taking the story as it was already given, and filling in the gaps and dramatizing what was already written, this is being treated like "the novel Tolkien never wrote", but that's the problem. he did write it, everything that's being covered in this series that they didn't invent was already written down, and the things that were left out were tiny details, not massive gaps.

I don't think this is a good adaptation because I don't think that it's going to make for a very intelligible story, to pick and choose and mix and match. I don't think whatever's onscreen will be Tolkien, it will be Amazon's very expensive badly-written AU fanfic The Rings of Power. There might be a couple of fan-favorite moments but I highly doubt they'll actually mean anything, I can tell exactly how much respect they have for the tiny details from just the Vanity Fair article. tbh at this point I even have problems with the Jackson adaptation, but that's for another ask, if people want to know what they are.

but that's not really the question you asked, sorry; I'll do my best to answer that now. 'what makes a good adaptation' varies from source material to source material, and I think it's a ridiculously difficult job that many people fail at, because there's not a one-size-fits-all approach.

despite that, I can try and come to a conclusion about what I like based on the adaptations that I think succeed at what they're doing, and I'm gonna pick four of my favorites - The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005), The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992), The Phantom of the Opera (1989), and Stardust (2005).

(more below the cut, tagged 'longpost')

all of these are vastly different from one another, take unique approaches to the source material, and have wildly varying relationships with the concept of book-accuracy.

LWW includes absolutely everything from the book (easy, as it's a very short children's book) and even adds in a full rendition of the big battle at the end that is skipped over in text as well as some additional scenes to provide character development or heightened tension. the place where I think it's goofiest and fails the most is the White Witch Sled Chase that culminates in the four Pevensies washing themselves downstream to escape the wolves, but that's a short action scene that nonetheless provides Peter the chance to showcase his capabilities as a leader and keeps the stakes and tension high. In this case, a good adaptation follows the plot accurately, includes relevant character details, preserves the order of events, and builds on existing dynamics in the cast to make the story compelling for those familiar with it, extrapolating motivation and conflict from stated events. It's a lot like gapfiller fanfic in that way, it's sticking to the canon but enhancing it when something feels lacking.

PotO89 is barely an adaptation of the original Leroux novel - Christine Daaé is now Christine Day, Raoul is now Richard, the Persian is a Scotland Yard investigator, and Erik is now cursed by the Devil in a 100% literal Faustian bargain and his 'mask' is crafted from the skin of his victims. There's far more blood and gore, a campy vibe that lets Robert Englund ham it up, and a Final Girl confrontation with the killer in the modern day that involves Christine destroying Erik's music. Why, then, would I call this a good adaptation? Because it preserves the gothic horror of the original novel, it maintains the strong and fiercely independent characterization of its heroine who in the book calls herself the mistress of her own actions, and it leans hard into the romantic tension between the two leads. It preserves the feeling and the emotional themes of the original novel (except Erik's redemption, but that's because this is a slasher movie) while also never forgetting that it's a horror film, and because it never forgets it's a horror film the tension between Christine and Erik exists more or less as it did in the original text. I certainly haven't found a more accurate take on that relationship. The core issue here is that Leroux's original novel isn't particularly cinematic - it rambles, it gets bogged down in the middle, there are side characters who get forgotten halfway through the book. In this case, trying to accurately adapt the story would fail, because it doesn't work as a cinematic experience, so the best approach is preserving the vibes instead of trying to remember every single detail.

The Muppet Christmas Carol is a return to the example set by LWW - a great deal of the dialogue is taken right from the Dickens book, and while it cuts out certain scenes that emphasize the needs of the poor it doesn't ever shy away from the fact that Scrooge is fucking over people who need help and compassion, it makes up for that in other places. Also, the songs help explore the feelings of the characters and establish moods quickly and effectively. Unlike LWW, it makes several removals from the source material, and unlike PotO89 it's trying to adapt the book it's based on rather than preserve emotional experiences, but it threads the needle very deftly by never losing sight of what the important parts of the story are, and spending time with them. On top of that, the actors (both human and Muppet) throw themselves into the roles, really selling them and setting the emotional scene immediately, which means that even though it moves at a brisk pace the story doesn't feel rushed or lacking. The lesson here is 'if you can't adapt the story in full, find the parts that work best, and make those really shine'.

Stardust is based on a work by @neil-gaiman (who is almost certainly not going to reblog this but one can hope, you know?) and it's somewhere between Carol and PotO89 in terms of accuracy. It's telling a story that's technically the same as the book - a boy named Tristan (or Tristran) crosses over a wall into Faerie to retrieve a fallen star for the girl he's got a crush on, and the star turns out to be a woman, and then they fall in love - but the major difference is tone. The original Stardust is a somewhat absurdist fairy story with an intricate plot and complicated structure that relies heavily upon fairy tale logic and reader awareness of common tropes, and the film is a romantic comedy fantasy story more in the vein of The Princess Bride. The reason I like movie!Stardust so much, despite the adaptation changing many things (including the climax of the story) is because the process of moving from print to screen involves an awareness of the change in medium. A book, or a graphic novel, or both in this case, can rely on wordplay and whimsy and dense nonsensical playing around with language and prophecy, and a film that's not an arthouse experimental piece can't really do that, it has to have a satisfying narrative for the audience to watch. So movie!Stardust is aware of this, and leans hard into that preservation-of-vibes thing I mentioned while also drawing heavily from TPB, the archetypal and iconic self-aware romcom fantasy. Just as the original work was a meta examination of folklore and written stories, the adaptation is a meta examination of filmed stories. The lesson, then, is 'sometimes change is good, if the changes are made for a reason'.

If I'm talking about LotR or another Tolkien adaptation, I want an approach closer to LWW05. I want the gapfiller fanfic, I want the text to be treated as an authority to be contradicted only at great need. And Amazon's, uh. Not doing that.

#replies #anon replies #longpost #tolkien

[primasveraas-writing]

“Kent v The Shitty Knee Itself”- Ted Lasso

A sort-of-sequel to "Kent v Linebacker," but this can still be read on its own. Part 2 of 3 of my fics about Roy Kent's shitty knee.

Part 1 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 1649

XXX

Roy Kent is old as shit.

His daughter is a fucking toddler. His son is in preschool.

And he has fucking arthritis.

“What the fuck do you mean I’ve got fucking arthritis?” Roy Kent explodes at the doctor, who waits patiently for his outburst to finish. “I’m in my fucking forties! I’ve got two fucking babies at home! What the fuck am I supposed to do when my fucking daughter needs to piss and we’re all sprinting into the bathroom? I can’t fucking potty train on a shit leg.”

His wife rubs his shoulders comfortingly; the news is less surprising to Keeley, who gave a damn when the doctors mentioned arthritis could develop, and who is also extremely endeared by her husband’s priorities, which apparently lie very firmly with teaching their daughter to pee in the toilet.

Roy shouldn’t be shocked either; he’s had a limp for a long time now, and progressively worsening pain. He’s been elevating his leg whenever possible, to the point where Ted pulls chairs up for him or sits down first so Roy doesn’t feel awkward (on good days, Roy scowls at Ted and stays standing, but these occurrences are increasingly few and far between). It’s been a long time coming, and as much as the great Roy Kent hates to admit weakness, his shit knee is getting shittier.

Keeley had forced him to go to the doctor when Roy scooped up both their children, one in each arm, and proceeded to fall on the floor in a heap of small limbs and curses. He again made the case that he was fine, but there’s a limit on how much Tylenol one person can take in a day, and Roy’s exceeded that limit for weeks.

He walks like he’s on a hill, wobbling as he drags his right leg behind him. Keeley remarks on how uneven his gait is, and Lily, his precious fucking baby, demonstrates just how wonky Roy is by limping around too. It makes him laugh, but then his gaze meets Keeley’s, and he realizes there’s not much he can do aside from accept his fate and ask Dr. Patel why his knee is failing him (again, the fucking thing).

Arthritis. Fucking hell.

“The majority of your symptoms can be mitigated by limiting any strain on your leg. This includes walking, lifting, twisting, standing, stairs-”

“-breathing, blinking, fucking doing any shit worthwhile-”

“We can also prescribe medication, but given the amount of pain you reported, I think the best option to look at is a walking assistant.”

“What, like a cane?” Roy snorts. He feels Keeley still behind him, then he looks up at Dr. Patel, who’s gazing back at him, entirely serious.

“A fucking cane.”

“It’ll alleviate the weight on your leg. Ideally, you won’t need it every day, but it’ll make a difference when discomfort gets too high.”

“Fuck no.” Keeley squeezes his shoulder. “Fine. Fucking hell.”

-

It’s an adjustment. Roy walks back to their car, cane-less for the time being, limping, and imagines a cane in his hand. Imagines being able to straighten up, and not going to bed in fucking agony after a long day.

He also imagines showing up to the football club with a cane in his hand and Jaime fucking Tartt the fucking muppet smirking at him with his stupid fucking face, and he wants to turn around and tell Dr. Patel he’ll never use a fucking cane in his fucking life. Then he imagines having a stick to beat Jaime with when he’s being a prick, and Roy grins to himself at the thought.

That’s what he tells Keeley on the way home: he’s on the fence. That there’s a stigma he doesn’t want, that he remembers this the pitiful looks he received after his first injury and after surgery. It’s fucking bullshit, that he’d be looked at differently just because of a fucking rod in his hand, or because his stupid knee is fucked.

“Since when does Roy Kent care about what other people think of him? I mean really,” Keeley tells him, patting his thigh. “Everyone decent won’t bat an eye, and anyone who does is a prat.” She shrugs. “It’s a flawless system, really. Good way to sort people out.”

Roy grunts in agreement and drums his fingers on the door. He sighs, leaning his head back.

“What if I can’t keep up with Lily and Ollie? What the fuck am I supposed to do with little kids?”

“We’ll adapt,” Keeley promises, offering her hand. Roy takes it and presses it to his lips. “They already know they can’t run from you, or bowl into you at full speed-” Roy snorts at this. “-so now we tell ‘em that they gotta be patient.”

“They’re gonna be the most patient kids on the planet,” Roy muses, but his chest feels lighter. His wife is fucking amazing.

“They’re fucking perfect, they are. And besides- they don’t love you cause you can lift them or up throw them around or run around after them.” She squeezes his hand. “They love you ‘cause you’re you, Roy. You’re their dad.”

Roy nods silently. She’s right, as always. His heart is warm, much lighter against his ribs. “Thanks, babe,” he tells her, and Keeley beams at him.

-

They adapt. Roy remains in awe of the resilience of children- Lily and Oliver don’t give a damn that he uses a cane, except they quickly have to delineate that it’s not a toy, so Oliver doesn’t hit anyone with it, and so that Lily doesn’t hit Oliver with it. Because of this, Roy has to be careful not to threaten anyone at Richmond with his cane while his children are around. One day, his kids will learn to do as their dad says, not as he does, but for now, his babies swear and scowl, and pick up on every bad habit Roy shows them. It’s fucking adorable.

The first month is the hardest. Roy and Keeley decide to grant him some grace- he doesn’t have to do shit like garden or mow the lawn, or anything too strenuous. It’s uneven, in the beginning, and Roy goes to bed every night feeling like a shit husband for everything that’s unloaded on Keeley. They fight about it, eventually, and Roy apologizes to Keeley with tears in his eyes. They find a balance, which involves a chair in every room in their house and somebody hired to do the lawn. Their roles have shifted, but it’s a pattern he’s familiar with by now. He’s gone through so many major changes with Keeley: switching careers and marriage and injury and parenthood twice over. And using a cane isn’t any harder than having a newborn and a toddler, so they manage. After all, they’re unstoppable together.

Nobody on the team makes a comment on the cane, except Ted leaves sticky notes on it whenever Roy isn’t paying attention, and Roy wouldn’t mind so much if they weren’t positive fucking affirmations, the corny twat. Then the rest of the team follows suit, and they sign it and put stickers on it and all sorts of supportive shit, and Roy tells only one person this, but he kind of fucking likes it (against his better judgment, of course).

Commentators and the press are not nearly as kind. There’s any number of articles written about him and how old it makes the football world seem. Roy wants to fucking kill all of them, but Keeley reminds him that all the pricks have shown their true colors, and one day he finds a picture of a particularly insensitive reporter that has been utterly defiled and left out in the locker room. Roy tucks this away in a drawer in his office, and he’s almost nicer at practice that day.

Beard and Ted match his slower pace as they walk out to every match, which isn’t subtle even from the offset, but they don’t say anything about it and neither does Roy. He also realizes that he’s never the only one sitting in a group of his friends, even if it’s just him and Ted, or Keeley, or Rebecca, or Nate.

Yoga gets much harder, then he and the yoga moms spend a night researching yoga for people with shit legs, and yoga gets easier again. If they want to do a challenge night, Roy shifts into the role of yoga instructor, which he’s fucking great at, thank you, and so what if he gets to drink more wine because of it.

And his fucking knee feels better. His medication works, but the cane helps the most. Ted and Keeley had told him ever since his initial injury to be kind to himself, to rest when needed, and to not be a stupid stubborn prick about his health. This mindset turns out to have a few merits, and maybe it’s even a good habit he can teach his kids.

It says a lot about him, this cane that accompanies a man in his forties. He needs it because he was a professional footballer who injured himself preventing a goal in one last game. Who needed surgery cause his energetic maniac of a son ran into him. Whose wife told him to use it with pride, because he’s Roy fucking Kent and his family and friends love him so screw everyone else. Whose coach used it as a tool to force positivity onto Roy, whose team and kids decorated it with messages of love and smiley faces and the two worst signatures he’s ever seen (though he credits Oliver and Lily for trying). It’s a symbol of persistence, of the pain he’s endured, of those who rallied behind him.

Roy Kent. Married to Keeley Jones. Father of Oliver and Lily. Coach at Richmond AFC.

And he happens to use a cane.

#roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #keeley jones #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley x roy #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfic #roy x keeley #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #roy kent fanfic

[jenonctcity]

My Responsibility - Epilogue

Differences - Huang Renjun  

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Parent!Au

Warnings: Very brief mentions of abortion, minor character death, pregnancy, swearing, mention of injury, mention of sex. 

Word Count: 7k

Renjun is 20 years old, and things are going perfect for him for what feels like the first time in eternity. He has a stable relationship with the woman of his dreams, and his baby girl Jiyeon is the most adorable child in the world and he’s so thankful that’s shes well behaved. Of course there was ups and downs, but he was finding them easier to battle against with the support of you behind him. Even if the battles did mostly consist of things like Jiyeon eating an entire bag of gummy bears when Renjun wasn’t looking and then her vomiting them back up less than 10 minutes later, or when Renjun accidentally turned everyone’s laundry pink when he’d put Jiyeon’s red dress in the washing with the whites. Little things like that mattered to him to have a support.

Another thing he loved about having a girlfriend, was the sex. He still had a constant craving to get on top of you and hump you like a dog in heat, and you kindly let him. Which also ended up being the reason you ended up pregnant less than a year into your relationship with him.

“You’re being so grumpy.” He frowned after you pushed him away from you when he tried persistently to get into your panties. You rolled your eyes, frowning back at him and folding your arms over your chest.

“I’m not in the mood to have sex with you, it’s barely 9am and I don’t feel too great.” You mumbled, rolling over in bed and turning your back to him. He stared at you, his facial expression showing how displeased at your attitude he was.

“You haven’t got to be a bitch about it, jeez.” He grumbled and turned his back to you, pulling the duvet up over his shoulder and huffing.

“Fuck you, you’re the reason why I’m grumpy.” You grunted at him, shutting your eyes and trying to ignore him.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong!” He turned around, almost offended that you’re blaming him for your sour mood.

“Tell your superhuman sperm that.” You mumbled, not really thinking that he could hear you, but his ears pricked up and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What are you talking about? See I haven’t done anything wrong so you’re attacking my sperm. You’re so petty.” He sat up and pulled on a pair of boxers from his drawer, not wanting to put up with your attitude anymore.

“Because Renjun,” You paused to sit up and look at him with fire in your eyes. “I missed one pill. ONE FUCKING PILL!!! And normally there would be enough of the pill still in my system to prevent anything from happening, but your stupid, superhuman fucking sperm went against the odds and somehow made its journey to its destination.” You couldn’t help but snapping at him, not really wanting this to be how you admitted to him that you were pregnant, but it was too late now. His mouth dropped open and he went sheet white. You quickly laid down again with your back to him, sniffing back your emotions and thinking about all the possible outcomes.

“W-what?” He visibly gulped, his mouth falling open as it completely dawned on him.

“I’m pregnant.” Your words fell on deaf ears, Renjun too in his own head stressing out about the bomb you’d just dropped on him. He stood up, hastily putting on jeans and a t-shirt, not even realising nor caring that the t-shirt he threw on was inside out. He left the room and you sighed, not even realising that he’d left because your back was to the door. “I know you don’t want more kids, and I’m sorry that this happened, but I did warn you that it wasn’t a good idea to not use a condom…Oh now you’re just going to ignore me? And you called me petty.” You sat up with a frown on your face, ready to square up to him about this, but your face fell when you saw he was gone, and the door was left open. “Renjun?” You felt your stomach plummet through to the centre of the earth, just crossing your fingers that he did eventually come back.

Renjun sat in Chenle and Jisung’s living room, a tub of chocolate ice cream on his lap with a thick fluffy blanket wrapped around him, his eyes red with all of the tears that he’d spilt. He was watching a car race on the tv and he kept shovelling spoonful’s of ice cream in his mouth. Chenle and Jisung just sat either side of him, looking concerned but not wanting to ask just in case he started to cry again like he had when Jisung dared to inform him that his t-shirt was inside out. They heard the front door to their apartment rattle, and then Jaemin stepped through the door. He had been notified by Chenle that Renjun was hauled up in their apartment, eating his feelings instead of expressing them.

“You’ll get diabetes if you eat all of that.” Jaemin commented as he crouched down in front of Renjun, very gently pulling the tub of ice cream away from him and being cautious not to unsettle the poor man. “You know you have a girlfriend at home who’s very upset because of your absence.” He speaks very calmly and softly to Renjun. Renjun sighs and runs a hand over his face, feeling ashamed of himself for only thinking of his own feelings. A baby was a joint effort, and he had just as much of a part in making it as you did. He had guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach, knowing that you were probably crushed because he ran out in the way that he did.

“I know.” He mumbles and gulps, looking up at the ceiling and trying not to cry. “I’m having another baby…I’m twenty years old and about to have my second child Jaemin, I didn’t want this…I didn’t even want the first one…(Y/N)’s parents already hate me, they’ll hate me even more now I knocked up their daughter!” He’d never really broken down about his insecurities in being a father, because he’d just gotten on with it, and when he held Jiyeon for the first time he didn’t regret making her at all. He hoped he would feel this way about his unborn child when it came into the world, but he couldn’t be certain yet. He had met your parents not long after you’d started dating. He thought that they hated him, but they actually didn’t mind him, and both of your parents adored Jiyeon. He was just overthinking.

“I know, I’m not going to tell you that your feelings are invalid, I’m just going to tell you that you need to think about (Y/N) right now, and instead of sitting here between these two muppets and crying about it, maybe you should be holding your girlfriend and crying with her. Because she’s currently crying on her own.” Jaemin gave him a tender smile and patted Renjun’s knee. Renjun nodded and stood up, his eyes feeling sore and his stomach making him feel nauseas. He knew that Jaemin was right with everything he said, and he had to make things right before it was too late.

He went back to the apartment alone, Jaemin staying with Chenle and Jisung because he knew that the two of you would want to be alone. He sighed as he enters the apartment, kicking off his shoes and setting his keys down on the kitchen counter. He had a quick glass of water to get his fluids up and to calm his nerves slightly.

“Did you find him Jaems?” You were rubbing your red, watery eyes when you walked into the kitchen, your favourite blanket wrapped around your body much like Renjun had wrapped the blanket around his body when he needed the comfort. You paused when you pulled your hands away from your eyes and saw Renjun instead of Jaemin. “Oh.” You were taken by surprise and you looked at the floor, sniffing back your tears.

“Baby…” He spoke quietly, approaching you and taking your face in his hands. “I’m sorry I ran out on you; I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself and I was being selfish.” He stroked your cold, wet cheeks, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “If you want to go through with the pregnancy then I’ll stand by you every step of the way, and if you don’t want to go through with it, then I’ll take you to the clinic and hold your hand.” You whimpered in his hold, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks and hitting his thumbs.

“Renjun, do you think we can raise a baby?” You looked up at him through wet eyelashes. He trailed his hands down your face, shoulders, arms, and finally taking your hands in his own. He let out a soft laugh and shrugged.

“Meh, it’s a piece of cake.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that, glancing down at your feet and shaking your head. Renjun had told you plenty of times how hard it was being a parent, and he had her a lot less than her mother did, so you could only imagine how hard it would be to have a baby with you 24/7. “Seriously baby, we can do it. It’s a challenge but it’s doable.” He sounded semi-confident and you bit your bottom lip, pondering over your choices before giving him a nod and staring up at him.

“I hope we have a girl.”

---

Renjun is 21 years old, and he feels like he’s holding the whole world in his hands. But he’s not, he’s holding his newborn daughter in his hands and not caring about the tears rolling down his cheeks. Huang Jihyo. She was a week old and already doing him proud, as she’d just unknowingly flipped him the bird when she was stretching her tiny fingers out. Renjun was so proud of her for her accidental rude gesture that he just burst into tears on the spot, glad no one was around to see him cry.

You were taking a nap, because being a new mother was exhausting, and Renjun offered to watch over Jihyo, mainly because she was asleep and had just been changed and fed, so she had no reason to wake up screaming at him. Since the two of you had found out that you were expecting another baby, you’d moved into your apartment across the hall from the boy’s apartment, just needing a little extra room. But of course Renjun and you still both had a key and you spent a lot of time in their apartment still. The person who was probably most excited about the new baby, was Jiyeon. As soon as you’d both told her that she was going to be a big sister, she had spent at least an hour rambling random things to your stomach as you sat on the couch with her head on your lap. She also liked to gently pat your bump and tell you all about how she was going to share her toys with her new sibling.

Renjun got up gently, holding Jihyo in his arms when there was a knock at the door. He answered the door and smiled widely at his two-year-old daughter stood by her mothers’ legs. He greeted his ex, making small talk and showing off his new baby like the proud father he was, then took Jiyeon’s backpack from her and bid her mother goodbye.

“My sister!” Jiyeon started to jump around by Renjun’s feet, a wide grin on her face and her shoes making loud tapping noises against the wood floor. Renjun stroked the back of her head, brushing down her fluffy hair at the back of her head with a fond smile on his face.

“Yes baby, she’s your little sister. Take your shoes off and you can have a cuddle with her.” He waited patiently whilst Jiyeon dropped onto the floor on her butt, making quick work at unstrapping her velcro shoes from her small feet. Once she was free of her shoes, she ran through to the living room ahead of her father, climbing onto the sofa and sitting comfortably against the cushion. Renjun followed her and sat down beside her, cradling Jihyo and smiling as he watched Jiyeon’s reaction.

“Wow…” Jiyeon whispered in awe, reaching out her hand and very gently stroking at the silky black hair on Jihyo’s head. “She’s cute!” She chirped and kept her eyes on the baby, her big eyes narrowing from how big her smile was.

“Do you want to have a cuddle with her?” Renjun asked in a soft voice.

“Yes please daddy!” She sat back on the sofa as Renjun grabbed a pillow, laying it across Jiyeon’s lap and making sure the pillow was propped up against the arm of the sofa for support.

“Okay, but you have to be very careful and not move too much okay Princess?” He gently laid Jihyo down on the pillow, making sure that one Jiyeon’s arm stayed under the pillow to help support the pillow, and the other arm laying over Jihyo’s legs. He set them like this so that Jiyeon felt like she was cuddling her baby sister.

“Okay!” She giggled as he looked between Jihyo and Renjun. “I love her so much.” She smiled cutely up at her dad, and Renjun felt the tears welling up in his eyes again as he looked at his two babies who he loved more than anything in the world. He couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snap a quick picture of them together, immediately setting it as his background.

“She loves you too, you’re going to be best friends as well as sisters, and you have to promise daddy to always be there when she needs you and to share your toys with her. But you also have to promise daddy never to gang up on him with her okay?” He added the last part purely so he could throw it back in her face in 10 years’ time if the two of them ganged up on him. She nodded eagerly and let out a cute laugh.

“I promise daddy.”

“Good girl.” He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss on her forehead, not regretting any of his choices in life as he watched his first baby lean down and give his last baby a kiss on her smooth cheek.

It was 6 months later when Minjun was born. When you’d asked Renjun if he was jealous that Jeno had a son when he didn’t, he quickly denied it. However that was a lie. Of course he was jealous! He was stuck with not one, but two daughters. And Jeno had a boy on his first attempt at making a life. It wasn’t that Renjun didn’t love his daughters to death because he did. But he loved the idea of a mini Renjun running around his feet. However he wasn’t planning to have any more kids, so he kissed the idea of a mini Renjun goodbye and laid that dream to rest. It was probably for the best that he didn’t have a mini Renjun, as big Renjun was, in your words, ‘a nightmare’.

You cooed down at the teeny tiny baby boy in your arms, his miniscule hand in between your thumb and your finger as you gazed at him under Jeno’s watchful eye. Everyone could already tell that Jeno was a complete papa bear with his son, and you thought it was adorable. Minjun was a lot smaller than Jihyo was at birth, because she was born late and was quite chunky, but Minjun was born early and had hardly any baby fat on him.

“You’re going to be such a handsome boy Minjunnie!” You cooed at him, glancing at Renjun who sat beside you with 6-month-old Jihyo nestled in his arms. You looked between the babies and then smiled widely. “You’re going to marry our Jihyo so that me and your mummy can be related!” If you could have taken a picture of the look of disgust and horrification on Renjun and Jeno’s faces, you’d have taken it in a heartbeat.

“I think the fuck not.” Renjun spluttered out in shock, giving you a scowl and visibly shudder. “I don’t want to be related to Jeno!”

“Fuck you, I don’t want to be related to you either.” Jeno frowned at him. You scoffed a laugh.

“Why? You’re best friends!” You couldn’t understand their logic, but you were used to things like this, so it didn’t come as a complete shock to you.

“Because we’re best friends and it’s weird to have our kids be together.” Jeno answered for Renjun, who nodded along in agreement. You had a feeling that the two of them had discussed this prior to you bringing it up. But you didn’t ask, just rolling your eyes and letting the subject go.

It was a week later than Renjun found out about Jaemin’s engagement to his girlfriend. He was shocked to say the least. He couldn’t quite believe that Jaemin had grown the balls and asked his girlfriend to marry him before he had plucked up the courage to ask you. But at the same time, he was excited for his best friend. He knew how much his girlfriend meant to him and how much Jaemin had been longing to get married and start a family. But he didn’t like what Jaemin’s decision was doing to his own impulse decisions.

“Jiyeonie, Uncle Jaemin is getting married.” He decided to break the news to her whilst she was clutching at his hand, toddling alongside him in the middle of the city. She had on a little backpack that Renjun had just bought for her, the tags still attached to the zipper, and she was wearing a new pair of light up shoes, her eyes constantly looked down towards the ground as the flashing amused her. Renjun loved to buy her new things, and whenever she asked him if she could wear the new things before they left the shop, the answer was always a yes. Her old shoes had been shoved into her new backpack just so that the toddler felt like she had a purpose for wearing her backpack.

“To a princess?” She glanced up from her flashing shoes and squinted under the sun as she stared up at her father with a curious expression on her face.

“To his princess!” Renjun smiled with twinkles in his eyes down at his daughter. When he glanced up, he noticed a jewellery store, and an impulsive decision crossed his mind that he couldn’t just seem to shake away. “Should daddy marry princess (Y/N)?” He wondered what the two-year-old would say, knowing she was getting really good with her words and at expressing her thoughts. Renjun had taught her

“Nope.” Jiyeon shook her head and went back to staring at her shoes, giving her foot a hard stomp on the floor once they stopped flashing. Renjun frowned and tilted his head, wondering why she wouldn’t want you and him to get married. She seemed to absolutely adore you, and when she’d found out what marriage was not too long ago when watching a Disney film, she’d immediately turned to you and asked you if you were married to her daddy. She seemed terribly upset when she found out that you weren’t married and had no plans to marry each other, so this came as a surprise to the young father.

“Why not?” He stopped walking, placing his hands underneath her armpits, and hoisting her up into his hold, sitting her on his hip and cuddling her close.

“Because you can’t marry a princess daddy, you’re not a prince.” Renjun’s face fell into a deadpanned expression. Clearly, she was still confused about this marriage situation, not only that, she just lowkey hurt her father’s feelings.

“You’re spending too much time with your Uncle Haechan.” He mumbled and then stopped as he got in front of the jewellery store. “You know, you haven’t got to be a prince to marry a princess, so do you think daddy should marry (Y/N)?” He asked again after giving her a little bit of persuasion. He wanted her to say yes, because if she continued to say no, he would definitely wait a little while longer until she said yes. Although she was only a toddler, he believed that his daughters opinions mattered, and he would never do something to upset her.

She pursed her lips as she thought it over, before shrugging and giving him a huge grin. “Yes!”

Renjun purchased an engagement ring, and he told Jiyeon not to say a word to anyone about it, but she was so excited, that when they got back to the apartment and Renjun took Jihyo to have a diaper change, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

She told you that her daddy had bought a ring and told you to keep it a secret. Clearly, she had gotten her wires crossed, and hadn’t realised that you were the one person who shouldn’t find out about the ring. But you kept her secret and waited patiently for a proposal.

---

Renjun is 22 years old, and he feels the most horrid feeling in the pit of his stomach as he hangs up the phone call. A haze of disbelief, shock, and heartbreak float around his mind as he numbly walks into the bedroom where you sat, aimlessly staring at your phone, none the wiser to the news Renjun had just been lumbered with. Renjun took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself as he sat down beside you on the edge of the bed.

“Baby, I have something to tell you.” He laid his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as he smiled softly at you. You furrowed your eyebrows, concern rushing through you as you took in his body language and facial expression.

“What’s going on?” You asked curiously, already adapting your own tone and mood to fit with his. He let out a soft sigh and rubbed his thumb against your leg as he broke the news to your that Jaemin’s fiancée had passed away after the two of them had gotten into a car accident. You felt your stomach drop through the floor, and tears blurred your vision almost immediately. He gave you more details about the accident, and included that she was brain dead, her body only kept alive by machines until Jaemin woke from his coma to give the doctors permission to take her off of life support. You felt your heart break. Not particularly for yourself, but for Jaemin, and her family. You knew how much she meant to Jaemin, and your sobbed harder after Renjun told you that they had gotten married in secret just before the accident. You couldn’t comprehend how the world was such a cruel place to take someone away from someone else on their wedding day.

Renjun held you to his chest as you cried, his hand rubbing up and down your back as a silent tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t cry easily but seeing you in pieces over the loss of your close friend really affected him. He also put himself in Jaemin’s shoes and thought about how hard it would be on him if he lost you, or one of his daughters, and his heart broke even more for Jaemin. He was so close with the boys and their partners. They were the people that he considered his family and losing a member of the family was never easy on anyone.

Now all you and Renjun had to do was mourn for the loss of your family member and wait for Jaemin to wake up.

The funeral was tough on everyone.

You had made sure that morning to give Jihyo and extra kiss as you left her with your parents. Renjun had made the decision not to allow Jiyeon to go to the funeral, as she still didn’t fully understand what was happening and he didn’t want her to be around all of the emotional adults, knowing it was be distressing for her.

The two of you were child free as you entered your apartment. It was eerily silent but brought you a feeling of relief and peacefulness. You had found it hard to cope with the loss of your friend whilst parenting a baby, because you were so focused on Jihyo that you barely found the time to deal with your own feelings.

Renjun could see that your eyes were filling up with tears as you kicked your heels off and shrugged your coat off, just letting it all to the floor as you walked into the living room. Renjun sighed, picking up your coat and hanging it on the coat peg, before riding himself of his own coat and placing his shoes beside yours.

“Baby?” He called out as he followed you to the living room. You were sat on the sofa, staring at the turned off screen of the television with a blank gaze. He gave you a look of concern, his eyebrows pulling together and a muted smile on his lips. Sitting himself next to you, he pulled you close to him, giving you a tight hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” You took a deep breath and simply nodded. “You can cry. I know that you’re holding it back (Y/N).” He held your head against his chest, stroking your cheek with his thumb and holding you tighter against himself when he felt a tear hit his thumb.

“It’s not fair.” You let out a sob, your chest convulsing as you whimpered in the arms of your love. “They were so in love Renjun! They had just gotten married and then she dies because of some fucking idiot in a car!” You relaxed in his hold, finding his touch comforting to you.

“I know honey.” He spoke gently, his lips once against pressing to your forehead. You cried in his arms for another five minutes, before you gulped down the lump in your throat and pulled away from Renjun’s chest. You looked him in the eyes and leaned forward, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I want another baby.” Renjun’s body stiffened and his eyes widened in shock.

“No.” He straight up shot you down, shaking his head fast from his dedication to his answer. You frowned and tilted your head, hurt that he just shot you down so fast without even considering it.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just taking with your emotions! You’re upset that they didn’t have a baby before she died so you’re trying to make up for your guilt by having another baby!” Renjun had hit the nail right on the head. You did feel guilty, and your emotions and hormones were flying around so much that you were convinced you wanted another baby. But in that moment, you didn’t see it that way.

“You don’t even want another baby with me! Just admit it!” You started to cry again, and you stood up, staring at Renjun with a frown on your face. “You’re probably going to get bored of me and leave me anyway a-and then have a baby with another woman in a few months’ time!” Renjun rolled his eyes and he let out a sigh, deciding just to let you vent at him. He knew that you were too overcome by your emotions that you weren’t thinking straight, so he didn’t blame you. “You don’t even love me! You bought an engagement ring ages ago, but you still haven’t proposed to me!” Renjun’s eyes nearly popped out of his head from how shocked he was.

“How did you know that I bought a ring?” He squeaked out, sitting up and feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

“Jiyeon told me.” You muttered and started to calm down, crossing your arms across your chest and crying silently. Renjun groaned and sighed. He stood up and hurried to pull you into an embrace.

“Listen, I didn’t propose to you because Jaemin had just proposed to his girlfriend and I didn’t want to steal the limelight from him. Then his wife died, and I can’t propose to you for a while now because that’s insensitive. I love you so fucking much, and it hurts me that you would think otherwise. I want to marry you, I do. Just give it some time.” He took your face in his hands and tilted your face to look at his. “I…I don’t know if I’m ever going to want another baby. I may change my mind one day, but we’ve only just had Jihyo. I’m 22 years old and I have two kids, this is a lot for someone my age. Most men my age aren’t doing what I’m doing, this is a big struggle for me. I hope you understand.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips and sighed gently. “I love you.”

You felt awful for everything you’d said in your mini meltdown. You were so thankful that Renjun had his head screwed on properly and had enough common sense for the both of you in that moment. “I’m so sorry, I love you too.” You rested your face in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him tightly.

Renjun smiled softly, holding you tight against him as he processed his thoughts, relieved he didn’t get sucked into having another baby.

---

Renjun is 25 years old, and the wedding ring sits heavy on his ring fingers almost heavier than the newborn baby boy in his arms. Huang Jinhyung had been born a week ago, a day before your first wedding anniversary. Obviously because of the arrival of your baby, neither of you had been able to celebrate your first anniversary, but neither of you minded. Jinhyung was the best present you could have received. He was tiny, as he was born a few weeks early, but he was healthy and had a head full of black hair. Renjun was absolutely enamoured by his son, and even though he would have been just as happy to have had a baby girl, he finally had the son he had been wanting since he found out his ex was pregnant with Jiyeon. Jinhyung had been planned. After you got married, Renjun had told you that he wanted another baby much to your surprise. It didn’t take long for you to get pregnant at all, but that wasn’t a surprise to you as you knew Renjun had supersonic sperm. Another thing significant that had happened after your wedding, was Renjun gave up his life of crime. He got a normal 9-5 job working at Haechan’s uncles’ garage, fixing up cars and legally selling them. He was lucky enough to be given flexible work hours too, so he could equally spread his time between his job and his family. Money wasn’t a big issue for you though, as you had a part time job working at the local bank every Thursday and Friday when Renjun wasn’t at work, and Renjun had saved up a lot of money during his days of illegal activity.

“I know I’ve said this before but, this is the last baby.” Renjun broke the silence between you both as you watched the tv with Jihyo sat in between you both. Jiyeon was at her mothers but she had already met Jinhyung and had fallen in love with him, over the moon to have a baby brother. Jihyo was also excited about having a baby brother, and Renjun had caught her stroking his hair and putting her teddy bears on him when he was asleep in his crib.

“I’m happy with three.” You smiled at him, adoring the way he was with his son. You saw Jiyeon as your own daughter, and always referred to her as your own when speaking about her to other people.

“I mean it this time. I am declaring Jinhyung as my last spawn.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, rolling your eyes and nodding your head.

“Okay, he can be our last.”

“I never even thought I’d have one child, and now I have three. Sometimes I’m just stunned at how my life turned out, but…like…” He struggled to put into words the thoughts that were going through his head. “In a good way kind of stunned you know?” He raised an eyebrow, unsure if his words made sense to you because they didn’t make much sense to himself. You giggled and bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly as you knew exactly what Renjun was babbling on about. He often expressed his love for how his life turned out in the smallest of ways, but it all added up to you, making a big picture that you could stare at all day long. It was in the little glances you saw him making at his daughters as they built lego castles, and in the way he’d gasp in surprise whenever Jihyo presented him with an messy picture she’d drawn, like it was the most amazing piece of artwork he’d ever seen. He was an amazing father, even if he didn’t see it all the time, but you were used to Renjun self-deprecation.

You just wished that he could see the man that you saw whenever you looked at him.  

---

Renjun is 29 years old. He felt like he was going through a midlife crisis, and he’d been spouting about how old he felt. All because his first-born baby had turned 10 years old. Jiyeon had grown up to be a smart, funny, caring, and witty girl. She never failed to make Renjun proud whenever she’d presented him with a certificate she’d achieved at school for her excellent work or for her caring personality. He was a proud father. Not that his other kids weren’t smart, but Jihyo had a tendency to tell lies or blame things on her brother. Like the time she’d spilt her juice on the new white carpet and had blamed it on Jinhyung. It was a week later that the truth came out and Renjun had to be the bad guy and take her Nintendo switch away from her for a week as a punishment. Renjun didn’t have a problem with Jinhyung, he was a little prince. But he did wish that he’d stop wetting the bed so much. Baby steps.

“Dad…” Renjun looked up from his phone, in the middle of texting Haechan about their weekend plans, to see Jiyeon standing in front of him. Her hands behind her back and a small smile playing on her lips.

“Yes honey?” He immediately put his phone down, giving her his full attention. She took a deep breath and hesitated. It took her another five seconds to pluck up the courage before she spoke.

“Can I live with you?” Her voice came out fast, with a slight waver to her tone from the nerves she felt flooding through her system. It wasn’t a big deal, but she was so desperate for him to say yes, that she felt an unfamiliar bubble of worry in her stomach. Renjun’s eyebrows furrowed, and he sat forward, setting his arms on his legs as he studied her.

“Why do you want to live here honey?” He reached a hand-out, taking hers in his own. His tattooed hand would look big and intimidating to most 10-year-olds, but the little girl stood in front of him trusted him with her whole life.

“Because I want to be with my family more.” Her words didn’t sit right with Renjun. It made him wonder why she didn’t consider her mother and stepfather as her family. Maybe he was reading too much into this, but he knew he had to dig deeper and find out the reason.

“Hmm…” He gave her a weak smile as he went over his thoughts in his head. “Why don’t you want to continue living at your mums though? Did something happen?” At Renjun’s question Jiyeon’s face turned into one of surprise, and she quickly shook her head.

“No! I just don’t have any siblings at mums, and I get super bored because she works a lot.” She shrugged and moved to sit beside her father. Renjun pursed his lips, weighing up his options. He came to a conclusion and gave her a sad smile.

“Mummy would miss you a lot though, how about I speak with her and arrange it so that you can stay here for a bit longer when it’s my turn to have you? You’re only 10 princess.” At this her face fell a little, but she quickly faked a smile and nodded in understanding. Renjun made another decision quickly and spoke before he’d had any time to really think it over. “How about when you turn 13, if you still want to live her permanently then you can okay? No questions asked, you can just move in and see your mum when you want. Deal?” He smiled as he looked down at his child, her face slowly lighting up at her father’s proposal. She stuck her hand out to him with a grin on her face.

“Deal.” He glanced down at her small hand, and with a chuckle he took her hand in his own, shaking it gently.

---

Renjun is 32 years old. And he never wanted to experience this. He’d always hoped that when the time came, you’d be around, or Jiyeon would be at her mothers. But there he sat, on the sofa with Jiyeon curled up against his side, tear tracks down her cheeks and a hot water bottle huddled against her stomach. Yes, she’d started her period. And now that Jiyeon officially lived under Renjun’s roof, he had to be the one to deal with it. He was stroking her hair, twirling the dark strands around his finger and hoping he did the right thing by providing her with her with the right products, and by making her a hot water bottle to try and soothe the burning ache of pains she was feeling. On his other side, cuddled up to him just like his sister, was Jinhyung. His left arm was in a cast, due to how he’d thrown himself down the stairs, trying to imitate how buzz lightyear tried to fly in toy story. Renjun was scared, because his son was showing a lot of signs of having his own personality. Jinhyung was 7 years old, and already a mini Renjun. Of course, Jihyo had egged him on. Why wouldn’t she? She thought it was hilarious watching her little brother yeet himself down the staircase after shouting ‘to infinity and beyond’.

That was a week ago, and Jinhyung was thriving, because you were treating him like he had a life-threatening injury. Constantly bringing him snacks, letting him have soda more than once a day, and giving him all the cuddles he could possibly want. Which you were grateful for, as you knew most boys stopped being cuddly with their mothers after they hit their teen years, so you were happily cashing in on your son’s clinginess. Jihyo still sniggered when she thought about the incident, and Renjun couldn’t help but laugh along with her instead of scolding her. Which often lead to you scolding him, but he struggled to contain his laughter when his mischievous daughter was laughing.

Jihyo was sat on the floor in front of them, drawing a picture of a flower in beautiful detail. She loved art, and when she’d told her father about her newfound hobby, he’d immediately taken her to the nearest arts and crafts store to buy her all the supplies she needed to feed her newfound skill.

Renjun couldn’t lie. He loved the peace and quiet of the room as they watched the third Jurassic park film, all the kids’ content and calm. But in typical fashion, it was Jihyo who interrupted the silence.

“Mums home!” She had heard your car pull up in the driveway, and she turned her head to the door as you quietly entered. You kicked your shoes off and smiled as you walked into the room, seeing your husband and babies all snuggled up and calm. Renjun turned his head to the door and gave you a beaming smile.

“Hey baby.” He greeted, gently removing his arms from around Jiyeon and Jinhyung so that he could push himself off the sofa. He walked over to you, taking your hand in his own and gently guiding you to the kitchen, out of earshot of the children.

“What’s up Renjunnie?” You shrugged your coat off, laying it on the chair of the dining table and giving Renjun a soft smile. He loved that even after all these years, you still called him Renjunnie, the little butterflies in his stomach always flapped their wings at the sound of the nickname.

“Jiyeon started her period. I gave her one of your pads and a hot water bottle…did I do it right?” The look of concern on his face made your heart melt, and a small giggle to leave your mouth. You nodded quickly to ease his worries, leading him to let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I didn’t know what to do so I googled it but I was kind of in a hurry so I didn’t read it properly and-“ You cut off his babbling by connecting your lips with his own. He visibly relaxed, his eyes drifting to a close and his hands finding purchase on your hips. A kiss form you could always relieve his stress, and it was working wonders for him now.

“You did great.” You whispered against his lips after you drew them back a few centimetres from his own.

“Thank you.” He took your compliment and wore it like an invisible badge on his chest, a big smile taking over his lips.

“I love you.” Your words echoed in his head, sending a thrill of excitement through his body, and making his heart rate speed up.

“I love you too.” He smiled as he kissed you, the curve of his lips pressed to yours made you also break out into a smile.

“Oh! I have something to tell you! I-”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” His face was one of concern as he cut you off. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and shook your head.

“No! I got a coupon for money off pizza…”

Renjun sighed in relief.

---

Well, this is it for Renjun’s story. I hope you enjoyed it and I want to thank you so much if you made it this far! I appreciate every single one of you. ❤

#briefly proofread sorry for any errors #huang renjun #nct #nct dream #nct renjun #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #renjun #nct 00 line #nct dream 00 line #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #nct series #nct dream series #nct long fics #nct dream long fics #huang renjun smut #huang renjun angst #huang renjun fluff

[that-one-newsie]

newsies jatp au part 1!

Part one is here! Let me know anything you’d like to see in future/anything I can improve on/if you want to be added to the tag list As always, reblogs are greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy it! (if anyone has any title ideas please send me an ask I’m rubbish at titles lol)

The Orpheum, Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles – 1995

They’re playing at the Orpheum. They’re playing at the Orpheum. Everything they have done, everything that they have sacrificed all comes down to this moment.

Albert counts them in, and then they’re off.

It’s a great song, Now or Never, and standing on stage with his bandmates and best friends, giving it all that he’s got, Jack’s never been more at home.  Music, he decides, is the reason he lives. (Well, that and teasing Al about the hot tech guy he claims he doesn’t have a crush on).

They finish the song with the bang of the smoke machines and the crackle of mic feedback, drenched from head to toe in sweat. Breathing heavily, Jack looks up, hearing for the first time the cheers of the staff and crew.  In all of the adrenaline he’d forgotten it was the tech rehearsal, but it’s nice to hear their appreciation anyway.

Oh well. At least they know that they can rock everyone’s faces off when they come to see them play.

“Thank you,” Crutchie leans into the mic, “we’re Sunset Curve.” He winks at the girl behind the table, and Jack chuckles, before spinning around to grab a towel.

Their rhythm guitarists, the Delancey brothers, are grinning stupidly from ear to ear.

“Too bad we wasted that on the sound check, that was the tightest we’ve ever played!” Oscar exclaims. Morris nods his head in agreement, still very out of breath from the performance.

“Wait until tonight, man, when this place gets packed with record execs!” Jack is still very much on an adrenaline rush, bouncing around the stage like and excited child, the ribbon on his arm flying around all over the place.

Crutchie moves over and playfully punches Albert on the arm. “Al, you were smoking.”

“Oh, no, I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire.” Albert uses his drumsticks to gesture to the other four boys on the stage.

That’s a load of bull and all of them know it. Al’s the best drummer their age in all of LA.

Seeing the look from Crutchie, he relents.

“All right, I was killin’ it.”

Laughing, Cructchie pulls him into a quick hug, which he reluctantly accepts.

Jack’s stomach growls, a painful reminder of the fact that he hasn’t eaten since the morning. He could murder a street dog right now.

Ah, what the hell. They’re about to play their biggest gig yet, might as well treat themselves.

“I’m thinking we fuel up before the show… I’m thinking street dogs.”

This suggestion is met with full agreement from Crutchie and Albert, but Jack notices Morris slipping off towards the girl who was cheering for them earlier, with Oscar in tow.

“Hey, Delanceys, where you going?” He calls after them.

Oscar just looks at him and shrugs, but Morris replies “I’m good.” The next part of his sentence is directed at the girl across the counter: “Vegetarian, I could never hurt an animal.”

Jack scoffs, and licks his finger and shoves it in Morris’ ear. He recoils and Jack feels a sense of triumph. His mind wonders for a minute, and he vaguely hears Crutchie chatting up the girl, who introduces herself as Rose.

“Here’s our demo. And a t-shirt, size beautiful.”

Crutchie heard someone use that line of their girlfriend when they were shopping once, and he’s never really stopped using it. Apparently it works though, because Rose looks impressed.

“Thanks! I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.” She says with a small laugh.

Albert butts in, “Good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands.”

Yeah. That’s a problem that they need to fix if they want to keep selling merch.

Oscar flicks Albert’s cap and slaps Jack on the shoulder. “Don’t you guys have to go and get hot dogs or something?”

“Sure.” Jack swings himself up on the table towards Rose, gesturing at Morris as he does so. “He had a hamburger for lunch.”

Leaving through the side entrance, Jack is immediately hit with the smell and general hubbub of LA. The bright lights blind him for a second after the dimly lit club, and he blinks a few times before walking towards the street with a bounce in his step.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

Albert makes a face. “The smell of Sunset Boulevard?”

“No,” Jack laughs, shoving him away and kicking up water in a nearby puddle, “what that girl said in there tonight. About our music. It’s like an energy, connecting us with people. They can feel us when we play.”

Crutchie and Albert snigger slightly, and he puts his arms around them and pulls them in by the shoulders.

“I want that connection with everybody.”

Crutchie shifts his weight onto his good leg. “We’re gonna need more t-shirts.”

They laugh and set off down the street, past a queue of fans waiting to get into their show. Jack pulls his hood up over his head, shielding his face, and Albert does likewise with his hat. Crutchie, ever the sweetheart, takes the two t-shirts he was holding and passes them to the girls at the back of the line with a quick smile. The squeals follow them down the street until they’re out of view of the club and into the back alley nearby, where the street dogs are sold.

Jack has to admit that the vendor is probably breaking a ton of health and safety laws, especially as he serves the condiments out of the boot of his car with all of the grease and dirt, but the food is good and he doesn’t mind that much.

A quick sizzling sound and curse breaks into his thought as Albert drops pickle juice on the battery cables.

“Man,” Al muses, “I can’t wait to until we eat somewhere where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile.”

Jack hears him briefly mention something to the vendor, who brushes it off, but his brain is too focused on eating right now to care.

“This is awesome you guys.” He turns to his best friends, his family, and grins. “We’re playing The Orpheum. I can’t even count how many bands have played here, and then ended up being huge!”

He holds out his street dog and the other two follow suit.

“Eat up boys, because after tonight, everything changes.”

All three of tap their street dogs together, and then simultaneously take huge bites.

It doesn’t taste quite right. But then, Jack thinks, this is LA, so it might just be slightly different meat to before?

Al voices his thoughts. “That’s a new flavour…”

“Chill man,” Crutchie, every optimistic, reassures him, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

With every fibre of his being screaming at him to stop, Jack takes another bite.

He doesn’t remember much after that. There’s an ambulance, and a lot of bright lights, and Crutchie is crying. He feels helpless. He can’t even move to comfort his friends and that hurts him the most. He sees flashes of hospitals, people, nurses, Albert, Crutchie, nurses again.

And then pitch black.

As his eyes adjust to the dark, he can just make out the shapes of the others curled up together in the corner sobbing. Jack crawls his way over, holding onto them as if they’re the only thing keeping him afloat. He holds them until Crutchie is so quite he’s not sure if he’s awake anymore, and until Albert’s sobs turn into sniffles and then silence. All with one thought running through his head.

Shit.

Tag list!: @maggs-is-a-muppet @oof-musicals @my-musical-trashlife @fancy-worm-with-the-poyle-inside @owlscbooks @fandomscraziness22

#my writing! #newsies jatp au #newsies #jatp

[remywrites5]

“You’re a slacker and I’m a straight A student and we were paired together for a group project and I just want you to get out of the way and let me do everything but you insist on helping for some odd reason ” AU with wolfstar please

           Remus froze in horror as he reached into the bowl of names to pick his partner for their history project. He looked out at the sea of his classmates and prayed for someone good. He knew no one in the room would really mind being his partner, because Remus was studious and took his academic seriously, so being his partner for a project basically guaranteed a good grade.

           His hand wrapped around a piece of paper and he lifted his up. “Sirius Black,” he said as evenly as he could while his heart sank. Sirius Black was a notorious trouble maker who barely did any school work and only got decent grades because he was smart and was good at taking tests. Most days he didn’t even bother handing in his homework and he spent most of class lounging back with his feet on the desk and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

           Remus risked a glance over at Sirius and he found Sirius beaming at him. It was odd to see Sirius look so excited about anything school related. The only time Black got excited about anything was the stupid pranks he liked to pull with his friend James. At least Remus hadn’t ended up with Potter as his partner. James was even worse than Sirius but it seemed that misfortune had landed on Lily Evans.

           Taking his seat again, Remus began jotting down ideas for what point in history they should do. He immediately dismissed World War Two as he figured most people would be drawn to that era. He didn’t want to pick anything too obscure, knowing he’d be doing everything himself. There was no point in making things harder when it came time to research.

           Remus had been so busy with his list that he must have missed the teacher telling them to meet up with their partners. He was startled when Sirius Black dropped his books onto Remus’ desk and sat backwards in the chair in front of Remus to face him.

           “Hi there!” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “How’s it going, Lupin?”

           Remus jotted down a few more ideas before he forgot them and then glanced up at Sirius. “I’m fine, you?”

           “I’m fantastic,” Sirius said, leaning in towards Remus as if they were sharing a secret. “I was hoping I’d be paired with a cute boy for this.”

           Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius Black was a shameless flirt, everyone knew that. “I was thinking maybe we could do the Victorian era,” Remus told him, chewing on the end of his pen.

           “I was thinking ancient Rome,” Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know with all those orgies and stuff.”

           Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more. “We’re not presenting on orgies to the class.”

           Sirius grinned, putting his arm on the back of the chair and resting his chin in his hand. “You want to do the Victorian era where seeing someone’s ankle was considered scandalous.”

           Remus quirked an eyebrow at him in response. “You do know Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sodomy during this era, right?” he said, making Sirius’ eyes go wide. Probably from the use of the word sodomy. “And Lord Byron was off fucking pretty much anything that would move.”

           Sirius hummed softly. “I guess that could be cool.”

           Remus sighed. “So glad you approve,” he said with a hint of annoyance. He was going to have to do the whole project himself anyway. He didn’t really need Sirius’ input anyway.

           “Wanna meet in the library after school?” Sirius asked, gathering up his stuff as the teacher announced the end of class.

           “Why?” Remus asked, frowning as Sirius stood up.

           Sirius laughed. “To work on the project?”

           “Oh, um, sure.”

           “Perfect!” Sirius said, beaming at him. Remus gave him a tentative smile in return. He was surprised to see Sirius so enthusiastic about a school project. “’I’ll see you there!”

           “See you.”

                                                           ***

           Remus got a few books about the Victorian Era and spread them out over the table he’d picked at the back of the library. He thought maybe Sirius would bail on their plans to meet up, which honestly suited Remus just fine. He’d get along better without having Sirius interrupting him. He chewed on his pen cap as he jotted down some notes.

           “Hey Remus!” Sirius said, sliding in the chair beside him. “Sorry I’m late. Peter got his hand stuck in a peanut butter jar…again. I swear it’s like being friends with Winnie the Pooh.” Sirius laughed and slung his arm over Remus’ shoulders with a familiarity that just did not exist between them. Remus wondered if it would be rude to shake Sirius off him.

           Remus cleared his throat and decided to change the subject back to school. He didn’t want to get to know Sirius Black. He didn’t want that kind of trouble in his life. Sure, Sirius was gorgeous, vivacious and intriguing, but he also had a tendency to get bored of people easily. It seemed like every month there were rumors of Sirius with another bloke. Whether they were true or not was another matter and Remus didn’t know Sirius well enough to be sure. At one point Remus had cared a great deal about the goings-on of Sirius Black but he’d more or less gotten over his stupid crush.

           “So I was thinking we could talk about the evolution of the English novel starting and it’s reflection of society at the time,” Remus said, writing down the names of a few authors he wanted to mention.

           “Sounds very swotty,” Sirius teased, reading the list over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m not going to have to read all those books, am I?”

           “No,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I’ve read most of the ones I want to touch on. Dickens, Conan Doyle, Austen, Bronte, Wilde.”

           “I have read Hound of the Baskerville,” Sirius offered, glancing at the list again. “I’ve seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice. Does that count for anything?”

           Remus chuckled despite himself. “It’s more accurate to the book than the Kiera Knightly one.”

           “I mostly just watched it because Colin Firth is hot,” Sirius said with a shrug. “And I know about a Christmas Carol, even though I’ve never read it.”

           “Let me guess, the Muppet version?” Remus quipped, turning his head to look at Sirius and noticing just how close their bodies were. Their breath was actually mingling together.

           Sirius grinned. “It’s still the same story.”

           “I knew it!” Remus laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What am I going to do with you?”

           “I don’t know…” Sirius said softly, bringing his other hand up and brushing his fingers over Remus’ cheek. “What are you going to do with me?”

           Remus felt his cheeks go red and he quickly turned away back to the safety of his books. “I’m thinking maybe we should talk about the poverty of the time and the classism at work in British society. Maybe talk about how a lot of novels had protagonists trying to improve their social standing – Great Expectations, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Oliver Twist.”

           Sirius listened to Remus ramble with a bemused smirk on his face. When Remus glanced back over he noticed Sirius was staring at him intently. It made Remus’ stomach clench uneasily.

           “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

           Remus’ jaw dropped. “I don’t see how that’s relevant – “

           “Is that a no?”

           Remus flipped the page of his notebook just for something to do to continue ignoring Sirius’ question. “It’s none of your business,” he finally responded after Sirius didn’t let it go.

           “I could make it my business,” Sirius said, licking his lips and smiling. “Why don’t you give me your number?”

           “Why?”

           “Because I want it.”

           Remus scowled at him. “Sirius, I’m not interested –“

           “Bollocks.”

           Remus’ frown deepened. “Not everyone is interested in you, Black. Y-you’re annoying and selfish and reckless.”

           “Flatterer,” Sirius said, his grin showing that he didn’t really believe Remus. “Come on, I’m not that bad, Lupin. I’ve got some good qualities too.”

           Remus huffed out a breath. “I don’t know you well enough to say if that’s true or not,” he informed his project partner. “We’ve never exactly spent any significant amount of time together.”

           “Let’s change that then, hm?” Sirius said, grabbing Remus’ notebook and scribbling down his number. “Text me tonight and we’ll pick a time this weekend to work on the project. I’ll come over to yours because my place is a nightmare.”

           “What?” Remus asked, blinking in utter confusion at Sirius. He wasn’t sure but he thought Sirius Black had just invited himself over to Remus’ house on the weekend.

           “I’ve got to get going but don’t do the whole project without me, okay?” Sirius said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I promise I’m not completely useless.”

           Remus could do nothing but stare up at Sirius with a puzzled expression on his face. Sirius smiled at him and then went bounding out of the library. Remus looked down at this notebook and the number scrawled over the middle of the page. Remus tore the page out of his notebook since it was ruined anyway. He considered throwing it into the rubbish bin but shoved it into his pocket instead. He thought about ignoring Sirius’ request and just continuing on by himself. Instead he took the books up to the front desk and checked them out so that he could continue his research over the weekend. Even if Sirius didn’t show up to help him, Remus would be prepared to finish the project on his own.

                                                           ***

           Against his better judgment Remus texted Sirius later that night. He had talked it over with his mum during dinner and she had agreed to let Sirius come over on Saturday. She had been a bit surprised that Remus had asked to have a friend over. The only friend he’d ever had over before was Lily and they were such good friends that Remus didn’t really have to ask if Lily could come over anymore, she was always welcome at the Lupin house.

           You can come over tomorrow if you want.

           You texted me!

           Well yeah. You gave me your number.

           What time should I come over?

           Around lunchtime? My mum said she’d make us something if you want to eat here before we get started.

           I can eat anything I want?

           I mean as long as we have it.

           Can I eat you?

           Shut up. I’ll see you at lunchtime.

                                                           ***

           Sirius arrived at Remus’ a little before noon and he seemed energetic, practically bouncing off the walls. He ate his lunch with gusto, munching on the ham and cheese sandwiches Remus’ mum had made. Sirius had kept the conversation going with Remus’ mum and Remus just sat there eating his food, kind of in a daze. He hadn’t expected Sirius to put so much effort in to talking with his mum. Sirius was alarmingly charming and it seemed like he was attempting to make a good impression. Remus had no idea why.

           “Uh, Sirius and I are going to my room to work on the project,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius by the arm and hauling him up out of his seat. He practically dragged Sirius down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

           “Anxious to get me alone, huh?” Sirius asked, biting his bottom lip.

           “What are you doing?” Remus asked, searching Sirius’ face for some kind of hint that he was lying or being a prat. Instead Sirius just smiled at him.

           “I don’t know what you mean,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “I was just being polite. Am I not allowed to be polite to your mum who made me lunch?”

           Remus huffed, the air puffing out his cheeks for a moment and then causing the curls on his forehead to move when he released it. “You never put it effort for anything.”

           “That’s not true,” Sirius said softly, reaching out and playing with one of Remus’ curls.

           Remus worked his jaw for a moment. “This isn’t – you don’t –“

           “I don’t?” Sirius challenged, twisting his hand into the front of Remus’ jumper and tugging him forward slightly. “How do you know?”

           Remus stared at Sirius for a moment and then shook his head. “Why are you trying so hard, Sirius?”

           Sirius grinned. “Because you’re making things difficult for me.”

           “And if I stopped?” Remus asked, crowding in closer to Sirius.

           “Then things would be remarkably easier.”

           “You’d get bored of me,” Remus said, glancing down for a moment at Sirius’ mouth and how very, very close it was. “Probably quicker than all the others – “

           “Ugh,” Sirius groaned, dropping his head back against the door. “Is that why? Remus, come on. I thought you of all people would be above listening to that gossip.”

           Remus frowned. “Lily told me she saw you snogging Evan Rosier.”

           “Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” Sirius grumbled unhappily. “I dated Evan for a month and when I dumped him the stupid prick started making shit up about me. He has been for months just to get back at me. I guess I really am unforgettable.”

           Remus placed his hands gently at Sirius’ waist, slipping his fingers under Sirius’ t-shirt to touch his skin. It was warm and soft and Sirius made a cute little gasping noise at the contact. “So I’m not just your latest conquest then?”

           Sirius shook his head emphatically. “I fancy you,” he said, pressing his nose against Remus’ jawline in a gentle, sliding it up towards his ear before playfully biting the lobe. “I have for a while now but you don’t exactly make it easy to get to know you.”

           Remus smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’ temple. “I suppose I don’t,” he agreed quietly, shifting his hand to splay against the small of Sirius’ back. “I’ll let you close, if you want.”

           “I want,” Sirius breathed out. “Fuck Remus, kiss me.”

           Remus turned his head and captured Sirius’ lips, pressing Sirius back against the wall. Sirius’ mouth dropped open and Remus took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. Sirius moaned and carded his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand was fisted in Remus’ hair at the back of his head.  

           Remus broke the kiss after a few life-altering moments and pressed his forehead against Sirius’. “Sirius…”

           “Does this mean you’ll stop making things so bloody difficult for me then?” Sirius asked, his kiss-swollen lips twitching into a smirk.

           “Absolutely not,” Remus said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Sirius’ mouth. It would do Sirius good to keep having to put in a little effort. “Still interested?”

           “Fuck yes,” Sirius said, pulling Remus into another kiss. “If we get a good grade on the project will you be my boyfriend?”

           “We’re guaranteed to get a good grade,” Remus informed him, nipping playfully at Sirius’ lower lip. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

           “Well then?” Sirius asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at Remus.

           “Yes,” Remus agreed to their proposed deal, sealing it with a kiss. Even though they were going to get a good grade on it, Remus knew Sirius would continue to work extra hard on it for Remus. Renowned trouble maker Sirius Black was going to put in effort into something school related because of Remus - because he wanted Remus. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Remus in his life.

           And if the project took twice as long to finish, because they couldn’t help interrupting their work to snog each other, well that was pretty spectacular as well.

#wolfstar #i write things #modern day au #high school au #sirius black x remus lupin #long post #anon prompt #fluff

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

Chapter 6 - Christmas Tree

Summary -   Jemma and Daisy search for a Christmas tree last minute and Jemma tells Daisy about their new house guest.

Prompt - Christmas Tree Relationship - Jemma & Daisy POV - Jemma

Jemma knows the last few boxes are just a little messier than usual and the ribbons slightly askew but she’s in a rush to finish the last of the gifts and clock out. It’s quiet in the mall. The natural day light from the skylights had been replaced with softer moonlight and the harsh fluorescent fixtures cast shadows she doesn’t recall seeing during the day. Gates have been lowered on stores, the only patrons are mall staff and most of them are on their way out too. She cleans up her space quickly; brushing the scraps of her conversations with Fitz into the bin beneath her workspace and making sure all the gifts are secure before pushing her stool under the table and rushing to the stairs.

She’s supposed to meet Daisy so they can finally get their Christmas tree. It’s the first chance they’d had even well into December. Her labs kept her busy and Daisy seemed to work non-stop this time of year. She dedicated her days to volunteering at the mall and that left her freelance cyber security work to be done at all hours of the night.

But someone was covering her labs tonight and Daisy managed to squeeze out a little time in schedule, so this evening they were going to have a Christmas themed girls’ night and decorate their tree, bake cookies, down eggnog and maybe binge a couple of holiday movies.

Jemma was hoping it would put Daisy in a good mood because she had some news that her friend was going to be less than excited about.

She hurried down the steps to the North Pole where a few volunteers were finishing clean up. Daisy is leaning against a table while Daniel, the new volunteer Daisy claims to be the biggest dork, creates neat stacks with piles and piles of envelops.

“You’ve never seen Elf?” She asks him in disbelief.

“No.” He confirms.

“What about A Christmas Carol.”

“Of course.”

“The Muppet version?”

“Um, no.”

“The Grinch?”

“The original.” He says positively.

“Okay, have you watched any movies made after 1990?”

“Not many.”

“Jemma help, he’s never seen Home Alone.”

Jemma knows that while Daisy is chipper and teasing this may truly be causing her distress. “I’m surprised she’s even speaking to you, our first Christmas as roommates I think we had a 48-hour movie marathon of every holiday movie I hadn’t seen.”

“My family only ever watched classics when I was a kid, I may have seen some of these but if I did, I don’t remember them well.” He reasons.

“So watch them again, mix it up.”

He shrugs. “I guess, I just don’t like watching movies alone.”

Daisy huffs, “Well I’m making a list – “

“and checking it twice?” He interrupts her and she shoves his shoulder.

“I’m making a list of must-see Christmas movies and you’re watching them, I’ll watch them with you if I have too, no one should be deprived of watching a grown ass adult’s belief in Santa be restored ten or twelve times in a row.”

“I do hope you’re making this list later because if we don’t get going, they’ll be all closed up soon.” Jemma hates to pull Daisy away from her fun but she’s eager to get their tree.

“Where are you guys off to?”

“We’ve got to get our Christmas tree.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Thanks but we’re good, Bobbi forced Hunter to stay late and help us, might as well put him to work.”

“Fair enough, see you tomorrow?” Daisy nods and they wave goodbye. They walk in silence towards the front entrance of the mall, pulling on their coats and gloves. Jemma adjusts her wool hat so that it covers her ears and checks to see if Daisy is ready to go only to find her looking back in the direction they came from.

Jemma smirks and doesn’t bother to try to hide her amusement. Daisy turns back to her, preparing to pull on her own hat and jumps when she sees she has been caught. “What?” She asks, her cheeks rosy like they’ve already stepped out in the cold.

“Nothing, you’re right though, he’s kind of a dork, sweet though, it was nice of him to offer his help.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They hurry outside and across the dark parking lot towards the tree lot. There are a few snow-covered cars nearby and Jemma spots Hunter loading a fluffy tree into the bed of a large red truck. As they get closer Jemma can see that the tree farm has been picked over and what is left seems to consist of a few unnecessarily large trees, a few puny ones and the rest look as though they are already on their last limbs.

“Oh dear.” Jemma’s heart sinks and she glances worriedly at Daisy.

“Wow.” Her friend runs her hand over a branch of the nearest tree and several bristles fall to the ground. “Not much to choose from is there, guess it’s my own fault, I should have made time sooner.”

Jemma frowns. Daisy’s attempt to brush off her disappointment is obvious, at least to her. Her friend loved Christmas and putting up the tree was one of her favorite traditions. She had several beautiful ornaments; May and Coulson and even Bobbi had taken to giving her one every year. Just recently she had started to do the same. She always took such care when hanging them.

“I’m sure we will find the perfect one, let’s look around.” Jemma loops her arm through Daisy’s and pulls her along.

The healthy little ones were too small to support Daisy’s vast collection of decorations and the large ones would eat up the small living room of their apartment, but they look and look again for the right one.

“Hello loves,” Hunter steps up behind them, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Bout time you showed up.”

“Hey, you didn’t save us a decent tree, did you?” Daisy asks.

Hunter takes a step back, “you know Bobbi might have mentioned something about that.”

Jemma feels a surge of hope, “so you’ve got one for us?”

“Afraid not.”

“Hunter!”

“Hey, you ever try to deny a tree to someone this time a year, one woman nearly took my head off when I told her the one for you was off limits, this,” he gestures to the scarce lot of trees, “is all you’ve got to choose from.”

Jemma shares an unsure look with Daisy. She wasn’t about to go without a Christmas tree. “Maybe we could get a big one, we can just push the couch aside, we hardly ever use it anyways.”

“Works for me, I get better commission on the big ones and better tips by the way.” They both shoot Hunter a look and he raises hands up in defeat. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” He says and makes a hasty disappearance.

Daisy sighs. “What do you think, we can make it work right?”

Oh damn. She was hoping not to have to bring this up yet. “Actually, we will be needing the couch, very soon actually.”

“Wait why?”

“Remember my cousin Deke?”

“The one with the creepy crush on me?”

Jemma cringes. “Yes well, his parents are flying out to spend Christmas with my parents and he was going to go too, until he heard I was planning to stay here and he thought I should have some family around for Christmas so – “

“Oh, don’t say it.”

“He’s kind of going to be staying with us.”

“Jemma!”

“I’m sorry, if I didn’t take him in, I would have never heard the end of it and he’s been better right, since you had that talk with him.”

“Yeah, but it’s still awkward.”

Jemma was actually quite fond of Deke. He shared her love of science and had a good heart. He was just a bit awkward, not unlike herself. That said it was uncomfortable to be in a room with someone you knew liked you and that was unfair to ask Daisy to do. “Let me call my mom, if I explain – “

“No, it’s okay, he’s really not bad company and I can’t throw him out at Christmas that would be cruel, even for me, besides, I know he’s your favorite cousin.” Daisy stops, maybe to re consider her words, Jemma thinks. “But if I see one lemon Jemma – “

“He’s on the street I swear, favorite or not.”

Daisy laughs and Jemma feels better knowing she’s not actually mad at her. Still she wants to make it up to her. An unexpected house guest was not in their Christmas plans. “Let’s get the big tree, I think I can squeeze an air mattress into my room.”

“We don’t have too.”

“We should, we never have enough room for all the ornaments anyways, this way we will.”

“Really?” Daisy asks hopefully and she nods insistently. Her eyes light up. “Alright, which one?”

“How about this one?” Jemma points to a vibrant green one that towers over the pair.

“I like this one.” Daisy points to a slight smaller one, the bristles are a bit browner but it would be a better size for the apartment.

“Are you sure, this one looks healthier.”

“Come on, I bet you could nurse it back to health and I’m afraid no one else will take it.”

Jemma doesn’t question Daisy’s attachment to the misfit tree. It wouldn’t be the first time she picked something that was a little different or a little odd. “It will be beautiful.”

#jemma simmons #Daisy Johnson #daisy x jemma #dousy #aos fic #aos #christmas at the mall #25 days of christmas

[amuseoffyre]

Five Fave Fics (or Works)

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Reblog and then write your own! I was tagged by @oabsalom Y’all don’t need to, but if you want to jump in, I’ll tag @jadetyle, @ashfae, @summerofspock and @mia-ugly :)

1 - The Inverse Omens collection (Generally PG rating with a couple of M/E chapters - 216k)

This all sprang to life after seeing other peoples’ reverse-role AU doodles. I stupidly let myself ponder how I would do it if I did it and what I would change and now, not only do I have 216k of fic including all of show canon and expanded universe with departments of backstory, frontstory and sidestory but a novel well in progress and a fire under me I haven’t had in ages. I don’t know what it is about these versions of the characters, but I have never enjoyed writing any characters half as much and they never stop surprising me. Also, the Hastur arc in the expanded universe? I did not see that coming and screeched when it happened.

2. Going Overboard (PG - 43k)

Look, sometimes the world goes horrifically tits up and you need to do something soft and warm and happy. A few weeks into the lockdown, I wrote this. I took one of my favourite (although very morally questionable) 80s romcoms - Overboard - and rewrote it as a human AU of Good Omens. It has memory loss! It has social commentary! It has gentle romance! It has more GO references than you can shake a flaming marshmallow sword at! It has a happy, happy ending! And I dare you to say it’s not one of my best GO fics. I love it with all my squishy sappy heart.

3. Anatomy 101 (E - 38k+)

It was meant to be a one shot! A jokey one-shot based off @gingerhaole‘s “What do you think they’re doing down there?” drawing! And now, it’s sprouted legs and is following canon and I’m chasing it down, trying to catch it in a net before it gets carried away! It has feelings and emotional growth and Aziraphale being an absolutely clueless muppet about Crowley’s true intent!

4. The Hunger series (E - 108k)

It’ll be a one-shot, she said. A study in sensuality instead of sex, she said. I don’t think there will ever be genitalia involved, she said. She was very deluded. Still sensual af, yes, but good lord, this series has more kink than I ever expected to write and every bit of it tied intricately up (along with Crowley) in layers of intimacy, growing trust and love. Also, Nanny Ashtoreth may step on me at will.

5. Crossing Paths (G - 69k)

Take two immortal characters, add one research-hungry history nerd who has travelled quite a lot, mix in random interesting historical events from onthisdayinhistory.com and you have Crossing Paths. Let me lob my geekery at you! Let me splatter you with it! Come! Look! History! Facts! Events! NESSIE!

And yes, that is five, but I would like to make an honorary mention to the compilation fic which I do purely for my own amusement and indulgence:

The Bookshop (G - 41k)

Wherein I, a doyenne of many fandoms, attempts to write as many of those fandoms as possible crossing into Aziraphale’s bookshop. Each chapter is a different fandom (or different era of a previously done fandom) and the only rules I have are that the fandom a) has to be set in London and b) happen after the year 1800, when the Bookshop came into being. So far, I’ve hit Harry Potter, Buffy, Narnia, the Bartimaeus trilogy, Doctor Who (twice), Rivers of London, Fleabag, Kinky Boots, Sherlock Holmes, Leverage and more.

#good omens fic #fanfic ho!

[branmer]

so yes in the branmer lives au my minbari oc morreal has had a bad day, decides to go hang out in a bar on babylon 5 and... proceeds to get into a bar fight just for kicks

“We don’t serve Minbari alcohol.” The barman, who had a little name tag identifying him as James, pointed to a sign, “We learnt that the hard way. But we do have some non-alcoholic drinks.”

“Water will be fine.” Morreal said, leaning on the bar and waiting for the unreal feeling that was singing in his head to fade. It was the shock he told himself. But why was he shocked? Why did he ever expect anything better from his clan? They had chosen dishonor a long time ago, and had worn the path to dust. He should be more surprised that they hadn’t tried to assassinate the Shai Alyt until now.

“Alright, one water coming right up.”

“Wait, what is that?” Morreal pointed at a line of bottles in one of the fridges. It had a funny picture of some kind of pointy eared earth animal holding a red fruit.

“Uh, that’s like, a fizzy drink? Do you have those on Minbar? It tastes of apple - that’s like an earth fruit. It’s non-alcoholic.”

“I like the picture. I will take that.”

James uncapped a bottle and slid it across the counter, giving him a slightly concerned look. “Dude, are you ok? You seem kinda… pale. Well, paler than usual for a Minbari I mean.”

“I am fine!” Morreal grinned madly, and gestured with the bottle, “Is this a cat? The animal on this bottle?”

“No, dude,” James laughed, “that’s a fox. They’re more like dogs.”

“Dogs.” Morreal said thoughtfully, “I do not think I ever encountered a dog.”

“Oh, dogs are great. You gotta meet a dog!” James said, “I had a golden retriever back home on Earth. She was just the best. Like just the best. Wait a sec, I can show you.”

Morreal watched with fascination as James tugged a human comms device out of his pocket and began swiping through images. A few years ago Morreal would have killed James without a second thought, and he knew that James must, on some level, know that too. And yet here he was showing Morreal pictures of his dog.

“That’s her. That’s Muppet.” James held out his device to show a large yellow animal with a dome head and floppy ears. Her mouth was wide open, tongue lolling and showing a line of sharp teeth. “She was such a good dog. I would have died for her. And she would have done the same for me. Just the best fucking dog in the world.”

“Hmm,” Morreal considered the defensive capabilities of Muppet the dog. She certainly had very large teeth, but that was nothing a well aimed blaster shot couldn’t deal with. “She is very… what is the word… goofy. I like her.”

“Yeah!” James seemed pleased by this.

Morreal took a drought of the strange apple drink, enjoying the strange way it prickled in his mouth. It was cold too, like a splash of ice water on Morreal’s senses. He needed that, more than anything. He needed to stop spinning and think. Think about how he was going to tell Neroon and Branmer what his clan had done. Neroon would probably… well, not kill him, but something equally unpleasant. Would they believe him when he said he didn’t know? He’d served loyally for years, been their friend for even longer. Surely they wouldn’t accuse him of lying. But… he was also a Wind Sword, so why should they trust him, after this?

“Are you sure you’re okay, dude?” James was regarding him with concern again, “You looked pretty down just then. Is there someone I could call for you? Like one of your warrior buddies?”

“I am quite well,” Morreal tried to laugh. The last thing he needed right now was other warriors, “It is just Minbari business.”

Someone jostled against him and snarled, “Watch it! You made me spill my drink.”

“I think you did that yourself, friend.” Morreal responded with edged cheer, taking another long gulp of the strange apple drink.

“I’m not your fucking friend, bonehead.” The new arrival was a tall human civilian. Quite brawny, perhaps strong by human standards. Used to being the big man in every room. And he had friends with him. Also big and strong. But not real fighters, Morreal could tell that from a glance. Not a real threat, just desperate to be one.

“Leave him be, dude,” James tried to interject, “He’s just having a drink.”

“Stay out of this,” the human snapped, and tried to loom over Morreal, “You killed our friends during the war.”

“Specifically?” Morreal straightened, keeping his hand on the neck of the bottle. He knew he should be sensible, try to de-escalate, but he wasn’t in a sensible mood. “Or are we talking in a more general sense? I wasn’t keeping a record. After the first few thousand what’s the point?”

The human’s eyes widened and he took a step closer, “How fucking dare you-”

“Let me just be clear - you want a fight?”

The whole group drew themselves up to full height around their leader. “Yeah,” the human said, “We want a fight.”

“Excellent! So do I.” And with one savage motion Morreal lifted the bottle and smashed it across his face. There was a moment of pure, feral joy as shards of glass and blood sprayed in all directions. The man dropped, howling. 

Not so big, after all. 

Morreal grinned and stepped away from the bar, feeling a rush of satisfaction when the human’s friends began to advance on him. One of them had picked up a bar stool. They were going to be stupid. Good. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that none of you ever actually fought in the war, otherwise you wouldn’t be making this mistake.”

#bramner lives au #bramner and sinclair are NOT going to be happy about this #god i love writing minbari behaving badly #also specifically warrior caste minbari using the war to get a rise out of humans #it is so DICKISH it just delights me #my writing #tw: violence #tw: blood

[angrylizardjacket]

self-same mettle

Summary: "I love my sister more than anything in this life; I will choose her happiness over mine every time."

A/N: BIG WARNING; August Reid, who you may remember from the main story, child groom tw, though nothing comes of it he's still creepy and predatory. Okay so I just wanted to write a little something from Oscar's perspective in the High School AU. Let me know what you think!!

{AYDTD}

----

Oscar's always been a romantic at heart, always wanted to be the star of his own Mills and Boone novel ever since he was sixteen and found his mother's stash while hunting for Christmas presents. It had been painfully straight, right when he'd been discovering the delightful world of loving men, but he was invested enough in the romance that he didn't care.

In 2017, at the tender age of 19, he discovers the author Chuck Tingle, and despite the fact that he's technically now a literature student, this ridiculous, gay erotica makes his heart happy in ways he can't quite articulate.

The point is, he knows August Reid, because he's his dad's drinking buddy and fellow professor, but Oscar doesn't think of him much until he takes the man's class. Ash, who's fifteen and who spends weekends at the local art gallery down the road, has always been far more artistically minded, Oscar's always been more drawn to words, but he takes August's Art History class on a whim.

There's a certain draw to the whole teacher/student fantasy, and August looks kind of like an older Richard Madden, still angular and defined, but greying at the temples, the prelude to an extraordinary silver fox. So Oscar let's himself daydream, and take the follow up class, and look forward to the weekends where his dad's friends would come over to smoke cigars and play cards. August Reid was nothing if not polite, always smiling and kind and happy to see Oscar, answer his questions. Oscar knew he was married, thinks he probably has a kid, and so he was happy to keep his daydreams to himself. He thinks there's something romantic about quietly unrequited love.

However, it takes a year, once Ash has matured more, not a lot, but enough to catch August's interest, for the rose-coloured glasses to be ripped off. August takes an interest in her; when he and the rest of their father's colleagues came over, he would make a point to stop and check in with Ash, encourage her interest in Art, both physical and theoretical, and even suggest research for her, or upcoming exhibits he thought she might like. It's harmless, at first.

Talk of art turns to compliments, her taste in things, her outfits, how she wears her hair, the colour of her eyes. Ash seems to start looking forward to his visits, and something about it doesn't sit right with Oscar.

"He's just, Oz he's so cool," she was smiling, blushing a little; she had a crush, it was plain as the nose on her face, "and he said he could get us tickets to the Renaissance exhibit in Glasgow next month, how awesome is that?"

August starts calling her Miss Ashley, a joke that started since she still had a habit of calling him Mr Reid - because she's a fucking highschooler, it's how she's been taught to address teachers - Ash delights in it, straightens her posture a little when he says it. August makes a habit of petting her head fondly when she does. It makes Oscar's stomach turn just a little. August shouldn't be looking at his little sister like that, she's just a child.

Their father seems blind to it, tells Oscar 'don't be ridiculous, he's just being kind' and when he goes to mum, she just brushes him off, insisting that August is lovely, that he's so in love with his wife, and that Ash is just excited to have someone who understood her.

"A little schoolgirl crush is harmless, Oscar, dear; weren't you singing his praises not too long ago?" It's meant with a wink and a nudge, like perhaps Oscar's jealous, but his mother can be so dense; it's not the same at all. He's an adult, and Ash is a child, and yet he's not the one August is giving leering looks to when he thinks no-one's looking.

It's not that their parents don't love them, it's just that they don't particularly care. They're trapped in a loveless marriage, too self absorbed to care about those that can take care of themselves.

So Oscar takes it upon himself.

Oscar's never understood art like he's understood literature, never been able to make it make sense in the same way, but that doesn't matter. The point is, on Sundays, when his father's colleagues come over for tea and cigars and cards, Oscar's started taking Ash to art galleries across the country.

"But August is-"

"It's the impressionists, Ash," Oscar takes her hand with a grin, practically begging her, "come on they have the Water Lilies," he enthuses, and Ash's expression softens.

"I do love the Water Lilies."

Because he can't tell her what he's really doing, because she's sixteen and thinks she knows everything and the idea of telling her that August has any sort of feelings towards her, even if he explains why that's creepy and wrong, is probably the worst thing he can do to discourage her. So he distracts her, and is careful to never mention him if he can help it, or steer the conversation away if she brings him up.

She's his best friend. She's always been his best friend, but in an abstract, sibling sort of way, but it doesn't take long for the two of them to become legitimate best friends. He listens to all the drama of her highschool career, and her ideas for sculptures, and anything else she wants to talk about, and in turn he tells her about whatever he's reading that week, whatever poetry ideas he's been riffing with lately, and complains about pretty straight boys in his lectures.

Oscar may be a poet, but neither he nor Ash could hold a tune to save their lives, and so of course they sing along to Ash's Spotify playlists at the top of their lungs whenever they're driving. There's three weeks where she plays the Hamilton cast recording on repeat, and Oscar finds himself muttering it under his breath in class.

He works nights, and Saturdays, to afford all these day trips, and his family think he's so diligent, studying and working so hard, and on his day off he spends it with Ash. He keeps local for a few weeks, a few months actually, and surprises her with a trip to the West End for Christmas.

She talks about August less and less as time goes on. Though she does ask about it, in a roundabout way.

"Why're you spending so much time with me?"

They're having lunch in the park across from a gallery somewhere in Ireland. Oscar packed jam sandwiches.

"I don't understand this art shit like you do, but it's good to find inspiration from all mediums, you know?" Oscar smiles, takes a big bite of his sandwich, and watches Ash wrinkle her nose.

"You sound so pretentious," she snorted, shaking her head, "but whatever, I'm not gonna complain, you're the one paying."

"And I like spending time with you, biscuit." His voice turned overly sappy, as did his grin, "I love you." Oscar reached out and ruffled her hair, and Ash squawked, batting his hand away.

"I love you too, ya muppet, but if you wanna hang out we can just do something lowkey, or like, close to home."

She takes him at his word, which is good because he's being honest, but she seems content with their routine. Sometimes they go bowling, or to the library, sometimes they go op shopping, or to the movies, but they never miss a week.

She's his cheerleader at poetry readings, his tour guide at art galleries, and his favourite person at all times. His father's a literature professor who stopped truly engaging with her about her love of art once he stopped understanding her, and his mother was a Type A accountant who was just disappointed she wasn't interested in something employable. So Oscar was her cheerleader at art competitors, her enthusiastic student at art galleries, and ends up being her best friend and quietly, her favourite family member.

August asks about her, according to their father, but Ash's brief infatuation with him seems to have died down.

"Do you have a problem with me, Oscar?" August asks almost a month after Oscar's started spending Sundays with Ash, and maybe their father's told August what's happening, maybe he's noticed Oscar glaring at him whenever he saw the professor, but either way, he's so painfully kind when he asks that it's a dead giveaway; August knows something's wrong.

"Stay the fuck away from my sister," Oscar, kind-faced, bright eyed Oscar, snarls. He's 6'3" and never more thankful for his height as he towers over August.

"I'm simply showing an interest in her, she's an art enthusiast, I'm an art professor, don't worry-"

"I don't give a shit; look like the innocent flower but be the fucking serpent under it, right?"

"I don't understand what you mean? Does your father know you feel this way? Does Ash?" And it doesn't sound like a threat, it sounds like a very genuine question, but Oscar wants nothing more than to punch him in his stupid, angular nose.

"Does your wife know you spend weekends ogling underage girls?" Oscar fires back, and August's expression sours considerably, his mouth closed in a tight, humourless line. "Yeah, dad knows, not that he gives a shit," Oscar sneered, "but if you go near my sixteen year old sister again, you smarmy creepy -" his voice dropped very low, expression dark, his hands balling into fists by his side.

"If your father's not bothered by it I don't see why you should be, I haven't done anything wrong, but you're throwing around some serious implications here," August gives a blithe smile, "Ash is an incredible young woman I'm simply encouraging her passion."

"August Reid, I need you to know that I'm not threatening you," Oscar said calmly, "I'm promising you; I'll fucking kill you."

And maybe he doesn't believe Oscar would legitimately harm him, but he sees it's not a fight he's going to win. August leaves Ash well enough alone after that.

At the start of their Summer break, before Ash is due to start her second last year of high school, their father gets a job in England, their mother gets an excuse to leave her loveless marriage, and Ash and Oscar get a choice. Oscar knows without even having to ask that Ash will stick with him. He also knows that in two years, if she's still here, she'll end up studying under August and his father's other creepily complicit friends. Oscar's playing the long game to keep his sister safe when he announces he'll be going to England with their dad.

He lies, says he doesn't mind transferring courses and maybe retaking some classes at this new university, makes sure he's nothing but positive when he talks about the move, and Ash, add expected, joins him. It hurts to leave the life he's building himself, but he knows it's what's best for Ash.

Adjusting to a new life is difficult, and some weeks they don't end up spending Sunday together. Oscar let's himself relax, takes time for himself, and starts to build new relationships, new connections in this new situation he's found himself in.

Here, he didn't have to worry about Ash so much. She was still his best friend, but now she could just be a teenager without a creepy professor leering at her and grooming her. Though quietly, Oscar was just glad she still wanted to spend time with him; she still goes to his poetry readings, still wants to go on day trips with him, and she's starting to get to know his new friends little by little.

Meeting Freddie is like getting hit by a freight train; they're both taking a Creative Industries subject as an elective, and they get partnered together. Freddie is intense and warm in equal measure, a lover of cats judging by the pins on his bag, he's always drawing or doodling something on his notebook, and he writes songs. Oscar adores him from the moment he meets him. He's always busy, always on the move or at band practice, but he seems to like Oscar well enough, so the two of them start having lunch together a few times a week.

Freddie thinks Oscar's selfless when he learns about everything that had happened back in Scotland.

"Picking up and moving your whole life just to make sure she's safe," Freddie shakes his head, "you're a Saint, you know that?"

"She's my sister, I couldn't not do it," Oscar laughs a little self consciously, but Freddie just seemed endeared.

They're messaging almost every day. Freddie sends draft song lyrics and selfies with his cats and Oscar will send bits of poems and shitty angled selfies or photos taken by Ash. They both live busy lives, but they keep up with each other without even trying.

[I've got a cat named Oscar, you know?]

[I didn't actually. You really like me well enough to name a cat after me 😂😜]

[har har I've known the cat longer. sorry to disappoint. 😘]

He's so caught up in his new life and his new friends, and Ash seems so happy with her new school, especially their art program, that it takes Oscar a while to realise how painfully lonely Ash was. She's always been introverted, always focused more on her projects than on the people around her, but when Oscar realises that person she talks most about is her physics tutor, it hits him that she doesn't actually have any friends her own age here. She likes his friends well enough, one even got her a fake ID if she might ever need it, but she had none of her own.

"How was school?" They've been here for about three months, and finally things have maybe started to look up.

"Fine; we're starting sculpture making in art," Ash said offhandedly, rolling her eyes; she already spent time outside of school making sculptures, the idea of being graded on it now seemed trivial, "this one dumbass spent like twenty minutes negotiating with a teacher about whether he can also make a second sculpture for fun." Ash's voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Sounds like someone you'd get along with-"

"He wants to make a dick."

Dick Sculpture Guy turns to Fucking Roger, and Oscar starts to hear more about him, because Roger's always seemingly causing a scene and Ash is endlessly annoyed with him, though she once let it slip that she thinks he's rather hot, and Oscar, though he's never brought it up, will never forget it.

Until he gets a call on Friday afternoon, from Ash, in tears, asking him to come to the school.

She's surrounded by the pieces of her broken major work when he arrives, and there's a tall, dark haired guy checking up on her. This is Brian, the tutor he's heard so much about. He's thankful, but comforting Ash is his first priority.

Brian leaves, and together the siblings piece together her work. The school gets locked at five, and they're there until the very last minutes. Once the bust is sitting up on one of the desks at the edge of the room, Ash sniffles only a little bit.

"I'll paint the cracks gold."

"Kintsugi," Oscar adds, nodding sagely and Ash actually beams at him, "see, I listen to you, biscuit."

He suggests they go to Freddie's gig to take her mind off of it, though it's also because she's been asking to meet Freddie for a while now, but he's always been busy. However, things don't go as planned when not only is Ash's tutor part of the band, but Fucking Roger is too. Fucking Roger who's sculpture exploding made Ash cry.

Ash is adamant she's going to kill him. Oscar doesn't stop her. She disappears around the end of the bar after Roger, while the rest of the band - Freddie, Brian, and some kid called John - hang back.

Ash decidedly doesn't kill Roger, and actually ends up enjoying her night, which Oscar's glad for. That being said, he's a little bit distracted; he's quickly discovering that Brian might be the loveliest person he'd ever met. Brian's an astrophysics student, a guitarist, a tutor, and he took the time to check up on Ash; Oscar hasn't been seriously romantically interested in anyone since high school, and he's only met Brian today, but damn if there wasn't definitely a crush forming.

They play good music, and Ash seems to have a good time, and he tells himself that that's all that matters.

Days go by, weeks go by, the siblings keep going to Queen's gig's, and Fucking Roger turns to just Roger. Oscar messages Brian and Freddie that Ash might have a crush and Freddie sends back a wheezed voice message saying that Roger probably does too, but that he's stubborn as hell and would never be the first to admit it. Something warms in Oscar's heart at that. Slowly but surely, between Roger and John, Ash is finally making friends her own age.

Ash deserves a normal-ish crush on a normal-ish boy, and Oscar will do anything to encourage that crush. So they go to gigs, and Oscar wiggles his eyebrows at her when Roger's got an arm around her between sets, and Ash turns as red as her hair. But Brian's got a hand on his thigh where they're sitting near the door, and it feels weirdly normal, and kind of the best.

To see Ash smiling and happy, everything was worth it. It's all worked out, though he knows he'll never stop worrying about her, not that he'd want to.

#borhap #roger taylor #roger taylor x oc #brian may #brian may x oc #queen #aydtd #the angry lizard writes #child grooming tw

[dukeofriven]

[Note: this post originally appeared in this thread. Owning to Tumblr’s inability to update reblogs with edits because it is a hellsite programmed by a secretive cell of former Stasi operatives to avenge the fall of East Germany, it has thus been re-edited and reformatted here for your reading pleasure.] JK Rowling’s wizards are the most useless, lazy, incapable dumbfucks in the history of fiction. The average Muggle? You take away their technology and they would be able to complete the basic tasks of feeding and clothing themselves without shitting on the floor. If a wizard ever lost their magic in Harry Potter, though, they would die. They’d be dead in three days. They’re garbage and I hate that I’ve come to hate Harry Potter - a series I once loved - because an author inexplicably hailed for her world-building is daily revealed to be appallingly bad at it. I realize this is a really dumb thing to be this angry about but I’ve been told for years what a great world-builder J.K. Rowling is, and that was not even true when the books were coming out. The Time Turner ruined all of Harry Potter forever, not because it offers easy time travel you can hold in your hand (although it does), not because you ask ‘why don’t they just use the time turner’ with every subsequent scenario forever (although you do), but because it was an enormous, flashing red light warning everyone that the series was going to attempt to make the transition from Fairy Tale Logic to Serious Fiction logic and fail. Badly. Really, really badly. I still think Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone is an almost perfect book: a distillation of decades of boarding school genre fiction combined with magic, friendship, and wonder. It is a book that owes as much to Enid Blyton and L.M. Boston as it does to C.S. Lewis or T.H. White and other authors with two first initials. Its sense of place is magisterial, from the frumpy, soul-crushing suburban sadness of Privet Drive to the ephemeral curio-shop wonderland of Diagon Alley to Hogwarts itself, a bastion of astonishment, homeliness, and delight. What it isn’t is the sort of framework on which you can support the horror that is the torture and murder of Charity Burbage in front of her colleague Severus Snape, who could not rescue her because he could not break his deep cover as a spy against Wizard Hitler 2. Long-running series can experience changes of tone and complexity. This is neither something laudable nor worth reviling; it’s a neutral phenomenon. Sometimes series do it well: Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld are both series that by-and-large end with books focused on far more complex issues than their earlier entries. TV series do this too: contrast the early episodes of Steven Universe or Adventure Time with episodes from later seasons. With Adventure Time, for example, trying jumping from the pilot to Remember You and see how hard you get tonal whiplash) Lois McMaster Bujold sublime space opera The Vorkosigan Saga doesn’t just change tones but also genre: space adventure, murder mystery, political thriller, goofy regency romance, comedy of errors, heist movie, schizoid identity crisis - on and on. The latest entry in the series has almost no plot to speak of, but is instead a musing on age, gender roles, grieving the loss of a lover, and the hope of new life. Some series, however, manage the transition poorly, largely because the initial tone cannot be harmonized with the later tone (Mass Effect jumps immediately to mind). But Harry Potter has more than just a problem of its tone getting darker: its trying to have darker events fit in the same world in which people can walk around with names like ‘Mundungus,’ the Hogwarts school song can be a nonsense poem, and the Philosopher’s Stone was defended with a series of video game puzzles. In a world in which the villain openly tortures somebody to death, the Philosopher’s Stone shouldn’t have any whimisical bullshit about its magical defences: it should have trip mines in the floor and an enchanted statue with a gun, because Voldermort isn’t a guy you confound with drinking potions and flying keys. You should just kill him. The charming fairy world of wonder of HP & The Philosopher’s Stone has room for a love potion. The later books, in which it is revealed that Voldemort was essentially born from rape, is not place where Ron Weasley can hand-out a book to Harry called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches without seeming like a predator in the making. The cradle that is The Philosopher’s Stone cannot hold a beastly baby like Deathly Hallows any more than Grindlewald pontificating about the superiority of wizards can sit comfortably in a universe in which wizards took until the 18th century to accept the outhouse! Not that fascist ravings are inherently logical; but even non-fascists in Harry Potter never act like wizards are anything other than 100% better than muggles at all times. They can’t, because if the series were ever to do that it would have to acknowledge that the two worlds are different: neither better, just different. Instead - well, as Ron once bitched, magic makes coffee perfect every time, so it’s not clear how muggles stand being alive and don’t just roll-over and die from the hellacious half-life that is living with imperfect coffee. This has nothing to do with irony, a suggestion that ‘oh Grindewald talks a big game about wizardly superiority but wizards didn’t use toilets and cal themselves goofy names like Flumpus MacFludgeon: Rowling is using dramatic ironic to lampshade how wizard supremacy lacks self-awareness. No: this is about a world that is silly being asked to host a genocidal dictator and his crimes. It’s like those tedious ‘grimdark’ AUs that always show up in bad fanfiction by authors attempting to be serious: what if the Sesame Street gang had to deal with ICE, what if Po started haemoraging while hanging-out with Laa-Laa, what if Peppa Pig learned that she was adopted and her real parents were brutally murdered as part of gang war because they were heroin dealers and so on. (The best skewering of this edgelord comedy is still probably either Andrew Hussie’s Muppet Babies/Saw comic or any encounters the Shortpacked staff ever had with the Transformers: Buckets of Blood guy.) In Harry Potter, Rowling built a wonderful little fantasy world that ran happily on the logic of fairy tales and fairy stories, and then decided she was never going to be taken seriously as an author unless she introduced Hitler to the equation. And it never works for her. It’s not like it couldn’t have worked. The Lord of the Rings is famously a very different book from The Hobbit. It did, in fact, introduce Hitler into a little fantasy world but Tolkien made it work by abandoning huge portions of the Hobbit’s tone, style, and structure: he wrote a completely different book.  Frodo isn’t scarfing-down Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans on the slopes of  Mount Doom. The moment, say, Cedric Diggory lay dead in Harry’s arms, we needed to never meet Mundungus Fletcher ever again, or Weasley’s Gooftacular Prank Nonsense, or Ron getting Harry a book about love spells. All the very least that needed to go away, at least until the very end, because Rowling is not an author with the skill to keep the silly and the sublime on the same page. That’s fine in and of itself: all artistic people have strengths and weakness, nobody is skilled at every element of creation. J.M. Barrie was very good at writing a book about an eternal child, but a bit crap at writing a biography about his mother. Arthur Sullivan spent his life quietly seething no one wanted to listen to Ivanhoe instead of The Mikado. There’s a reason Jerry Lewis never released The Day the Clown Cried.  Virginia Wolfe is a great writer, but that doesn’t mean she would have written a great run on She-Hulk. [Although now that I’ve said it I can’t think of anything I want to read more.] There’s a great bit in the Lord of Rings after the Shire has been scoured of Saruman where the Hobbits essentially open-up their larders and allow people to have fun again; there’s also a nice bit slightly earlier where Great King Aragorn puts on his old Strider clothes just so he can be his D&D character again: when series change tone, unless you’re really good at walking on a knife’s edge, the quieter, gentler, lighter world isn’t gone forever, but it does have to go away for a while: which means its time to tamp-down on the people with silly names and personalities - like Slughorn, who slips into book six like the second-coming of the vain and silly Lockhart, even though that’s the book where Dumbledore dies.

Rowling keeps trying to makes her old tone fit with her new world without having to pull a Tolkien and actually write differently, which produces moment after moment of tonal whiplash in which the latest Potter-related movie literally involves referencing the holocaust but she also drops some fun trivia about wizards shitting on the floor like animals. (You could describe the entirety of the first Fantastic Beasts film as Tonal Whiplash: The Motion Picture. I’d say that’s an essay for another day but I do not want to have to watch that movie again.)

It needs to be said that a primary reason these tone shifts ‘don’t work’ for Harry Potter is that the logic of a fairy tale is different than the logic of a mundane story. The logic of a fairy tale tends to be self contained: it doesn’t have a smart ass running around asking questions like ‘why’ because there is no why; a thing is the way it is because it is the way it is. Fairies steal babies on the third Sunday of every month, and nobody in the story asks ‘well what about in countries that use different calendars, and what about the shift from Julian to the Gregorian calendar that skipped eleven days?’ because such a pedantic question has no substance in a fairy-tale world. The Clever Child might question what the fairies need with babies, but she’s not about to break-down the week-to-week investment metrics on the Fairyland Infant Exchange. It’s not that one cannot critique or bring critical thinking to fairy stories; it’s that in a fairy story you don’t ask how the sewer system works because it’s not pertinent to what the story is trying to convey. It’s being the guy at the book club who is mad nobody wants to discuss his theories on the music of Rush: its not that the theories are bad, it’s that in this time and place they are of limited relevance. Harry Potter, however, does not belong to to the world of fairy stories, but to the legacy of Tolkienesque fantasy - the world of

  In The Hobbit nobody would ever ask if Hobbiton had sewers - it’s not important, and if you ask those kind of questions expecting there to be a serious answer of grave import you’re being a twit. Lord of the Rings, though? Not only is it a valid question, but Tolkien probably wrote a paper explaining the etymology of the Westron word for ‘sewer’ and how sewers were first invented by Shítlívær the Noldor as a way of helping the Blessed Isles cope with all the crap that tumbled out of Fëanor’s mouth.

The world of The Hobbit is one you could enter and expect to quickly find yourself on an adventure. The world of The Lord of The Rings is one you could enter, walk-about, and study without anyone ever exepecting you to solve some sort of regionally-disturbing social problem: in short, it wants you to be invested in the existence of its world in a different way than The Hobbit. Even then, although The Lord of the Rings is more grounded than The Hobbit, it is not so grounded that it doesn’t leave room for mystery, and questions that refute Wittgenstein’s assertion that all questions must be answerable. Tolkien loved to create complex worlds, but there was stuff he knew wasn’t worth elaborating on. It’s really his fans and authorial heirs who developed the somewhat worrying belief that a good worldbuilder has to have an answer to literally every question or else didn’t think their world through. (This has killed more potentially good books than bad cover art ever has.)

The Lord of the Rings leaves room for The Undiscovered Country. Harry Potter wants too… but can’t. Firstly, Rowling obviously understands the need for what we might call poetic mystery - like the gateway in the somewhat unsubtly name Department of Mysteries - but she also wants you to know how wizards pooped three hundred years ago. You get the feeling she knows exactly how and why that gate works, and what it is, but she withheld the knowledge because she likes mystery’s aesthetic more than she ascribes to any idea that an author might have lacunæ in the knowledge of their own work. That is, she would never put something into her work that she didn’t have an answer for - for her there is no undiscovered country that exists beyond the knowledge of even the author; she is an omniscient deity. Not for her is C.S. Lewis’ insistence that for her characters: All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. Rowling knows exactly what happens to every one of them from the moment they were born to the moment the rot in the ground and the day-to-day schedules of their lives in heaven. Secondly - and far more of an issue - is that Harry Potter becomes a world that invites you to pick up each part of its structure and think about it, because the author has - with loving care - built that entire world for you to interact with. A place for everything, and everything its place. Except JK Rowling is a lazy thinker who never, ever considers the consequences of anything she says. Nagini is actually an Asian woman cursed to live as a snake, wizards used to magically disappear their shit from wherever they just stood and shat it out, Hermione Granger can have a time travel device to attended a bunch of classes but Harry can’t grab one off a nearby shelf and go back fifteen minutes and save his godfather, and nor a few years later can the Minister for Magic’s protection detail keep them on hand to go back half an hour and tell their past selves ‘Hey Voldemort is about to walk in here and kill y’all thought you ought to know.’ No author can work-out every aspect of every element in their works - that’s impossible, and why ARGs are solved by the internet hivemind in half a day even though they took a far smaller group of minds months to devise. But Rowling is intellectually lazy - she adds the holocaust to her Magic Fun Land without sparing a single moment to think that idea through. She then gets defensive when confronted by the suggestion that her worldbuilding might have been shallow. Hey your American wizard houses seem a bit racist also America doesn’t really use the house system in its schools - and her response was to lash out and not listen.  Rowling tried to move Potter from a fairy logic world with its own rules into our world with our rules and our history but she doesn’t know our history very well, or even our rules, so she tells us wizards shat on the floor until the 18th century while the rest of us sit around going ‘but humans have never done that as social groups - even in horrible slums and facility-free prison cells humans create a designated place for taking a shit even if it’s just ‘that corner over there.’ We don’t just drop pants and go whenever!” This is because, as a worldbuilder, J.K. Rowling is actually kind of rubbish.

#Tumblr #J.K. Rowling #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone #wizards #muggles #the wizarding world #Charity Burbage #Severus Snape #Voldemort #shit #time turner #Enid Blyton #L.M. Boston #C.S. Lewis #Hogwarts #long post

[harrish6]

Falling Into A Different Destiny - Prologue - Minor Changes Can Make A Huge Difference

https://youtu.be/1Ga4F0_xGQI

I do not own this song, it belong's to it's respectful owner. But for the life of me, every time I hear this song I just think of Error. It fits him perfectly in my opinion.

I thought about this after I got the idea that Error could have fell into any Universe/Multiverse when he jumped into the VOID. Destiny could have put him into any Universe/Multiverse; Marvel, DC, Steven Universe, TMNT, Sonic, hell it could have even been The Muppet's! And that's not counting all the different Undertale Multiverses. I could have literally put Error anywhere and make it work. But I wanted to keep Null and Void, so I decided to have Error have a bigger freak out in the chapters 'When You Call For Help, I Will Come', and 'Breaking Things At Breakfast'. He flips out and tries to kill himself again, thinking that it is the better alternative, and Null and Void go in with him much to his horror.

Destiny once again pulls them into a different Multiverse for them to heal in. They land in many different Multiverses. This is going to be one-shots - with multiple parts, maybe - on different places Error could land in and make a home in with his kids.

Some Multiverses he lands in will have a Error, but will very different to our Error. Like in Jock and Nerd, that Error and our Error are completely different - so much so that our Error could pass off as a look a like but in no way related to him. In this case he will adopt a different name for himself so that he can blend in, that or keep it if he doesn't care enough to. Hard to tell yet. If so many Sanses and Papyruses look alike and no one questions it and are not related in some cases, then our Error can too.

In other Multiverses there will be no Error. Maybe Reboot or another version of him in some way, but no Error. He will be the first. But in all of them - or most of them - he hides his powers and who he used to be. He knows now that he is in a New Multiverse, and he is going to take this second - Third Chance technically, now that he knows that the other place was most likely another multiverse - chance by the horns. Especially since the kids followed him, much to his horrified shock. And the universes work different or view magic differently. Like in some, fighting magic - like gaster blasters and Error's strings - is unheard of and/or doesn't exist, or using magic like how they do in Error's Multiverse - like making someone 'blue' then making them float, or using magic like that in general - is unheard of or can't be done. So Error has to hide his strings and magical abilities in some Multiverses.

But the thing is that Error knows how to play with the Universe's code, so he knows he is nowhere near his Original Multiverse. Where the last one was almost alike to the original it would be hard to tell he was in a different one, this is not the case here. He has no idea what to do now.

Error is now stuck in a world(s) that is lead by different rules and surrounded by Monsters that may share the same faces with others, but with how the world is set up makes them very different to the ones that hurt him. Or even in a world(s) that have no Monsters and he and the kids are the only ones.

But they are the same by one fact alone; They will not give up Error without a fight.

-Start Chapter-

To be fair, Error has failed and has made plenty of poor decisions in his long life.

(Like when he was lost in the madness, screaming out for someone to save him as he destroyed so many different lives and AU's because he was forced to. Or that time he kidnapped Swap, keeping him because he was so lonely. It was nice to talk to another, to just sit by them. But in the end Error let him go, didn't want him turning into a glitch like he was. Another time was when he tried to kill himself the first time, he hanged himself with his own strings. His neck snapped, but he didn't die. He hung there for god only knows how long before his neck healed itself as the strings faded. Everything wrong was Error's fault after all, Inky made sure to tell him that. He couldn't even kill himself right.)

But this really took the cake. The cake, the whole buffet that was with it and ran with it. Because he wanted death, craved it even, so that all his pain can finally stop. So that he can finally rest and be free from Fate. But instead he got two kids and landed into a whole new Multiverse - Again it seems, because now Error can see that he had landed into a new one when he fell the first time. But all he could see where the faces of his tormentors at the time. - where he had no idea what was going on around him. He should have tried his chances with the tall Inky now that he thought about it.

-MobTale-

When you make a different choice,

"You know," Error glanced to the goat Monster as he filled up the bottle at the sink. "I have a first aid kit in the bathroom right over there." She gave a gentle smile, eyes swimming with concern.

Maybe he would have said yes if not for the sudden shriek of childish laughter not too far away. It reminded him of that Null had almost gotten hurt in this AU, and he could not-would not let that happen again. Not when the little one was looking at him for protection, that makes him and the other his responsibility. His makeshift bindings will have to do for now, he would not leave them alone here.

So without hesitation, Error shook his head as he went back to getting the bottle ready for Void. "NO ThaNKS."

you alter the course of your destiny.

When Mob!Undyne came busting in, Error was feeding Void on the couch with Null tucked in his side. His dark glare was enough to keep even her at bay, not wanting to chance what this strange Monster has up his sleeve if she were to try anything. She had heard stories about terrified and protective parents, and even she would not step up to that kind of challenge. No, she will stay at a distance, watching what this broken Monster will do once everything is said and done.

After Error and the children are gone, Undyne will hide her tears and think 'We could have helped them.' as no one deserves that kind of pain, no one reacts that way without reason. 'We could have healed him. Protected him.'

Your destiny unravels and forms a new string with every choice one takes.

All the gathered Monsters watched the new three closely, wondering who and why they were there. The cracks and scratches on the older ones skull did not paint a pretty picture or help them think positively, but they are Toriel's guests.

Papyrus asked the same questions, making Skull hurry out of the room to get into contact with Ink. Error wouldn't have noticed if he had kept a socket out on Undyne or if he was distracted by keeping a eye out on Null and Void as they played across the room. But the kids were in his arms, and Undyne was no threat at that moment. He saw the Mob!Sans slip out of the room, making alarms go off in his head.

Error positioned the kids so that he could hid them behind the couch in a moments notice, making sure that the travel bag is tightly on him, and kept a eye out on all the Monsters for even one threatening step to them.

One little choice, one different step, one different reaction can cause so much to change.

When Toriel called for the others to eat, Error refused to get up. He would not show his back to them, or to the door where Mob!Sans left. That was asking to get stabbed in the back from his experience.

Seeing the paranoid expression on the other, Toriel was in the middle of making a plate for her guests when Ink and Skull walked in. All Toriel could do was watch in horror as everything fell apart right in front of her, watched as another dove for his death and his children loving him too much not to go after.

It reminded her of her own children, both would rather be together in death if one is already gone, would do anything for the other even if it meant death.

'Why does this happen!?' Toriel cried, screaming when all was said and done. 'I should have done more! I could have helped them get to a safe place!'

What if's hurt to think about, what you could have done differently or said something to change the outcome, they cloud your mind after everything happens. But what if you had done that 'what if'?

When Ink came in after hearing that the strange skeleton was in MobTale, he truly didn't know what to expect. Maybe for there to be a short freak out, misunderstandings, confusion, maybe even a short fight before they could talk things out and reach a understanding with the skeleton coming with them to get answers.

In a way Ink had been right, but oh so W R O N G.

The minute that the other saw him, he pushed his kids behind the couch to hide, eyes lighting up with a deadly gleam that screamed 'I will kill you, slaughter you, before you hurt me once more.'. But Ink had never seen this Monster before, and before he could get a word out, his SOUL was out, his whole body limp as blue strings come out from nowhere to hang him up.

It was only when the other glanced at his SOUL when things started to turn, that made Ink wish that he had reacted sooner, or even just let someone else come and get the other so that he didn't feel the need to Fall.

"ThIS sOUl...." The other skeleton breathed in, fingers twitching as if to touch his SOUL. "....YoUR nOt INk....RiGHt?" Multicolored eyes pined him down, something swirling in his eye sockets as he lightly shook. "YoUR noT iNKy?"

No matter how many years and RESETS pass, Ink will forever look back on his answer and cry. If only he had said something different, phrased it different or something.

"I'm Ink, yes." Ink told the other, noticing how his shaking got worse with every word Ink said. "I've never been called-"

But the other didn't seem to hear the rest of Ink's words, as he let out a howl that only someone broken with so much anger could make.

"No-0000!" The dark skeleton clawed at his face, making the scars, chips, and marks all the worse. Blood and dust fell to the ground as he howled in agony and anger, wounds reopening. "Wh-H-Hy D000 Y0U t0rtU-ur3r M3 LIk-E-3 Th-i-iSSSS INk-Y-Y?!"

Ink didn't even notice how the strings tightened to a painful degree, or how they reseeded only after the stranger stumbled back, blood and dust dripping onto the wooden floor, staining it.

"Wh-YY CAn-T-T I-I-i B3 Fr3-E-3-e-3?!"

He could only focus that he did this, said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Whoever this other Ink was, or Inky as the other called them, has done great harm to this new Monster. Ink himself most likely looks like him too by the way this stranger reacted, and wasn't that a kick in the pelvis? He had just admitted to having the same name as them without thought or giving a true explanation for the other before saying that he only shares the name, that he is a different Ink.

"N0 M-0-oo00-R-E! I RaTH-e-3-e-3-RRrr DIE-DiE-Diee33e3e3e!

When he looked back on it, he realized just what this 'Inky' most likely done, making him blanch and cry out.

"i-I-I C-A-a-n-T PLAAAYYYY Th-I-iS gAm3 A-AnnnY MO0o0oR !nKY!.....I CAn_T-t....."

The other had confused him for his - or one of them - main abuser.

"N000 MO00R--E P--A-IN......N-O0O mO0OR3-E K-i-LlIn_G$.....No-NO0000-!"

Even years later he has nightmares about it.

"AgA!N! 0N3 M0R3 TIM3!......0N3-E-E_e lAS-s-$-s-$T Tim3....." A broken, dry sob echoed. "G3T iT RiGH-t Thi5 TI-i-i-iM3....S-$-0-o WoRtH-l-lEss....Can'T D!3-e-e-3 RiG-t! RatHEr DiE-e-D-!-3333!"

But every action has a counteraction, a consequence. Whatever you say and do changes how others react, how things will play out after you make your move. And when that happens?

Skull could only freeze when he felt a presence of something so wrong yet so powerful.

He watched the one called Error wave his hand as he tried to sneak to Null and Void to get them out of the line of fire, screams coming out as his whole body glitched wildly, face panted in pure fear and agony. When he was just in reaching distance to the kids was when he felt it.

Cold. Fear. Static surrounding him. Hungry cries echoing with a broken howl. The screams of regret mixing in with a soft sound behind it; A voice softly crying out that this wasn't what they wanted.

Before he even realized it, he was turning to look to where Error was. And once he was what was going on, he froze.

Skull will forever hate himself for freezing up like he did. His mind and SOUL telling 'It's our fault! If only we were faster! Moved!' even years later. He will stare at the same spot every time he comes over to Toriel's, where the blood has stained the floor and can't be cleaned no matter how much they try. But for some reason, they can never remove it.

But he knew why they could never get the feeling to remove it or even entertain that idea.

Because when all is said and done, they failed. Failed to heal the one that was broken. It was a reminder of who stood there and what happened. Where they failed the one who needed it most.

It was their guilt and regret, something they will never be able to get rid of or forget like that stain in the floor.

Anything can happen, that is why it is your destiny. Destiny is ever changing with every little action or decision you make. It is not like with fate, to where you have no choice, as it will drag you to make you go in it's direction. The choice is yours with Destiny. But that doesn't mean that Destiny can not put ideas into ones head, it can push and prod to show you other options, new roads that you can take. Fate is hated for a reason where Destiny is loved.

Null had no idea what was going on, only that these Monsters must have done something to make Daddy very angry and worried. But he knew Daddy was strong, he took down Him after all. So Null huddled Void close and kept a close eye on what was going on around him.

When his Daddy started to cry out after the colorful skeleton said something to him, it made Null angry.

His Daddy has done so much for him and his brother. His Daddy knew what it was like to be unmade, broken, and shattered in ways that normal Monsters do not. His Daddy had given them warmth and love, something he had only thought he could dream up and never get.

His Daddy deserved all the happiness in the world, because that is what he has given him and his little brother. Null - Project One - was given a name along with Void - Project Two - by the their Daddy.

He saved them, did not leave them even when he said to leave.

So when the floor under his Daddy suddenly changed to a dark hole, screams and pain filling the air, Null did the only thing that he could do.

Getting up with a tight grip on Void, he ran towards his Daddy with everything he had as the older skeleton fell into the black hole.

Why did Null do this?

Because he had FAITH that his Daddy would protect him and Void no matter what, that everything will be alright as long as they are together.

After all, it only got better after he met his Daddy.

So he wasn't going to let anyone take his Daddy away from him.

But just because destiny is the more kinder side, doesn't mean it will always work out for you on that road you have taken. Sometimes you have to make a different choice, taking a new road. Sometimes you know you are wrong and have to go back. Other times you do the same thing, but around different people, making the whole experience different thus making a whole new string to form for you to follow. Even Destiny themselves are wrong at times, and must push for a new string to be formed, for a new road to be made for you to see. But that's the thing with Destiny; You can always pick a different path, make a different choice, take a different road, or follow a different string because that is what Destiny is all about.

Error was beyond shattered and broken. His very SOUL was mangled just like his body, it was ugly and worthless. So why couldn't he die right?

Inky must have done something after he fell, time must have moved as he fell through the VOID for him to make another Ink. That or this was Inky, and time has changed his SOUL. Maybe with Error gone it had changed as he did not have to fight with him everyday. But for how long was he gone for either option to happen?

But that didn't matter in the long run. What mattered most, was that Error was done.

Done with taking all the abuse, done with being forced into a murder without a choice. Being forced to kill off so many AU's as the other half of the balanced just wouldn't stop no matter how much Error pleaded. If he stopped, then that meant Error could too. But no, Inky just went on without a care for the AU's or Error. Maybe he thought of it as a twisted game where he could always be the hero?

Error though, was so beyond done with playing. He may have failed the first time, but the second time was the charm right? While so many other methods have failed him, there was no way this time it would mess up. The VOID is a abyss where one is scattered across time and space, thus dying as one is ripped apart. The first time he fell and didn't scatter must have been a fluke, that or he didn't fall long enough.

Either way, there was no harm in trying once more. He would rather die then be the Destroyer once more, would rather die then be forced to play Inky's game, would rather die then be everyone's scapegoat. He would rather die then let Fate win.

Blood stained hands where quick to make a portal into the VOID. And when Error heard the familiar rumble of hungry static, he laughed. One more try, then finally he may get the peace he always wanted.

But then the sound of frantic clicking caught his attention mid-fall. Lifting his head a bit, his sockets widened, glitching got worse, and he screamed at what he saw.

Null and Void running towards him, a gleam in their sockets as they darted to him. The static rumbled below him as he fell further in. Shaking his head, his voice caught in his throat. Tears falling as he begged anyone that they wouldn't do it, to stay away.

Those kids were like sunshine, they do not deserve to be snuffled out by him and the VOID.

"DADDY!" "DA!"

It was like in slow motion when they dove in. Error couldn't even hear the screams of the other Monsters as they fell into the VOID with him. The darkness was closing in as Error reacted without thinking. Reaching up as the children fell, he grabbed them and tucked them tightly into his chest.

'Please no! No more!' Error sobbed as the VOID closed. This wasn't what he wanted! He didn't want anymore innocent blood on his hands! 'Not the kids! Please, show them Mercy where you haven't shown me!'

The kids screamed out when Error felt a familiar pull and tugging, their bodies going in every which way, starting to scatter.

Then he felt something he thought he dreamed up the last time he was in the VOID. A warm, soft touch. Soft crying as he was lightly hugged by something he could not see.

"I am so sorry My Child! I should have done more for you." The soft voice whispered, soothing like cold water on a burn even as the cry. "But you have changed your destiny once again, that means that I can now step in once more."

He felt his body coming back together, the children safe and whole in his arms. The feeling of the warmth stayed with him even as he closed his eyes all the way. Was this how Null and Void felt with him? 'Safe.' If this is what safety feels like, then he can understand why they wanted to stay with him. Before he could do anything more, unconsciousness over took him and the children, wrapped up in the arms of Destiny.

Destiny was overjoyed once Error took to the children, a reason to live. Children can change so much, make the parent want to change for the better. But she forgot one thing. This AU was too similar to Error's.

Sure, there was no balance or another Error, Fate doesn't even have a foothold there. But the faces staring back at him were to similar. Not even different clothing or job in there AU. It was too much for Error to see the face of his abuser. Too soon, he didn't even know he was in a different Multiverse.

But Destiny can change that, they can learn just as mortals do. With that in mind, Destiny let the three go as another portal formed not too far below them. Destiny would keep a closer eye on them now more then ever. Error now needed to find a reason to heal as he already has a reason to live.

So with that, a new road was built, a new string formed, and another path was cleared for Error along with his children could walk on now.

His destiny changed once more, so where would he end up now with his two little terrors in tow?

-End Chapter-

This just wouldn't leave me alone really. Error could have landed anywhere, in any type of world/multiverse. Having said that, if you do have any requests or suggestions I will listen to them and see what I can do.

Error's pairing will depend on where he is at as with the kids and there puppy love. His job and what he does also changes depending on where he lands up at.

But in every single one he lands in, no one leaves him and his kids alone. Wanting to help and heal him much to Error's confusion and frustration.

#Healing What Has Been Broken AU #What If AU #Error Sans #Forced Destroyer Error #Papa!Error #Null #Void #My OCs #Harrish6 #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Falling Into A Different Destiny #FiaDD