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doonalli · 3 months

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Kurumada and trust in your allies (Kurumada character analysis)

The doll of the day today is the boxer himself, Naomichi Kurumada, and in specific I want to talk about his arc in learning to trust in his allies, and how he is changed by his allies and how his allies are changed by him. Kurumada's arc is such an important one to the themes of the entire game, much like all the Dummies from 3-1, and hopefully I'll be able to show that as we go through this analysis. Kurumada is the type of character who wears who he is on his sleeve, at least at first, even from just our first meeting with him we can clearly see how he thinks especially in regard to his thoughts on allies

if sara tells him she only made it this far thanks to her allies he will question it before claiming that it must have been the right call if she made it this far, and if she instead talks about the sacrifices she made along the way Kurumada responds in a pretty cut throat manner,

Its pretty clear kurumada isn't the type to buddy up and ally with people at this point, even when talking about defeating the "monsters" on the floor he seems surprised when sara says

Kurumada's thoughts on "allyship" is shown again when after finding the blue book Kanna realises it's about Sou, and she then asks if she can see it because

this moment of Kanna claiming Sou sacrificed himself for her sake prompts Kurumada to jump in with his considerably bleaker outlook

to kurumada there isn't any nuance to death, at this point he doesn't get that someone would willingly sacrifice their lives for the sake of someone else, and he assumes that its just them "making it out as some heartwarming story", Q-taro steps in to tell him to stop but Kanna tells him its fine, that even after thinking it would be better if she just died, Sou taught her that she "shouldn't lose" to that urge leading to a very important line from Kurumada,

"Not losing" and "winning" are completely different things. Its good advice to Kanna but also to Kurumada himself, even if now he thinks he has it all figured out, that couldn't be further from the truth and it's going to be shown to him in full force,

after the fight with Maple Kurumada rushes in and is heavily injured, marking a huge turning point to his character,

Here Qtaro essentially sacrifices himself to get Kurumada out safely, as said before Kurumada doesn't get why he would do this but is forced along anyway. When he reaches the 5th floor security office he tells everyone to leave him behind as there isn't much he can do anymore and depending on who survived the 2nd main game they have different reactions. If Sou survived, he will agree that they should leave him behind as there is no point trying to help, when we come back later Kurumada will tell us to leave because he doesn't want everyone to see him before he then assumes he is in the way, as though he is a burden on the others.

If instead Kanna survives she insists on staying behind, if that happens Kurumada attempts to try and get back down to Maple and sacrifice himself. He tries to go down the elevator and despite everyone's pleas he denies any help and insists that he "isn't going to stand for being a loser" and finally says that he is free to do what he wants. This causes Kanna to slap him and tell him to cut it out and she brings up the similarities between Kurumada now and Sou's sacrifice, the very same sacrifice Kurumada disregarded earlier, she claims that Kurumada is just trying to die to stop Maple's rampage and help the Dummies, to which Kurumada just tells her to not make wild assumptions. Whether or not he is doing it consciously that is what he ended up trying to do. Kanna then finally tells him

and that's what finally gets Kurumada to stop, it was Kanna telling him that he shouldn't think it's better to just die, and she makes it clear that there are people who want him to live.

When we finally get him to the charger Kurumada in a last ditch effort still tries to make it clear he would be better off dead. He says that the charger would be better used to extend the lives of the other dolls but Anzu (or Hayasaka) tells him that they don't need that and specifically saying that they are all allies, and then all the Dummies help Kurumada by attaching him to the charger.

It's here Kurumada is forced to rely on the Dummies, on his allies, in his lowest moment, and still not getting it, he tells sara his hidden information, in his eyes removing the last of his value, and Sara instead asks him if he wants them to protect the Dummies, and here the 2 of them make an unspoken promise to "protect everybody, Dummies included". Here we get the first instances of Kurumada learning to trust in his allies, he starts off assuming he would be better off dead, as though he is a burden, and we see how shocked he is when Qtaro risks his life to make sure he can get out, or when Kanna tells him outright that he should try to live, or when Anzu/Hayasaka/Hinako denies the charger and tells him to use it on himself and it's the first step to Kurumada understanding dying with a purpose, dying to win, rather than dying just for the sake of "not losing". When earlier he claims that Kanna "forsook that Sou guy" and that's all there is, that there is no sense in trying to make a heartwarming story by claiming he was trying to protect her, in his mind it doesn't make sense that anyone would sacrifice so much for their "allies" for essentially nothing in return and we saw that when we first met him, but now it's happening directly to him, and he can't deny it anymore, time and time again people show they don't want something from him, all they want to do is protect their allies, and the effects of that are present going forward. When the tag game starts again and Ranmaru is "it" he goes to Kurumada and thinks about tagging him, and it's here where Kurumada yet again tells tries to get himself killed for the others.

He tells Ranmaru to tag him, specifically stating that he wants to live, claiming that while he doesn't see a future for himself, he can see one for Ranmaru. Again, Kurumada is in the position to sacrifice his life for another's, but Ranmaru denies it, claiming that he knows this is wrong before Hinako comes in with another solution. Its just driving home the point that Kurumada is willing to die for the sake of his allies, but like before with Maple he is doing it for the wrong reasons. Kurumada tells Ranmaru that even if he kills Midori they'll just die anyways, and that's the problem, it's from not seeing a future in himself and not from seeing a way to defeat Midori, just like before where he wanted to fight Maple because he "didn't want to lose", here its a sacrifice that does nothing but help Ranmaru "not lose".

The next time we see him is when we play as Keiji and go up to the 5th floor to charge the Midori head. When Kurumada talks one of the first things he is worried about is Mai's wellbeing, and he is glad to hear she is safe, then when Keiji explains the banquet to Kurumada he says

showing his priorities in this moment which causes Keiji to ask when he became so considerate, or to claim that he has gotten kind, and we can see this in how he left half the charge still in the charger, however all this good faith between them disappears when Keiji attempts to charge the Midori head. Kurumada seeing the doll head getting charged by the battery he left for the other dolls, comes to the conclusion that Keiji must be trying to kill Midori through the doppelganger rule, and considering the last time he saw Keiji was during his fight with Midori where he disregarded the dolls lives for his own goal and its entirely understandable that he would come to this conclusion, and one line he specifically says is

its the same wording we saw him use when he claimed everyone forsook Sou earlier, and we see it again in his "final" words,

Kurumada in this moment is afraid Keiji is about to forsake the Dummies more than anything, and all he asks is that he doesn't do so, with tears in his eyes. To him, what Keiji is doing is exactly the same as what he thought happened with Kanna and Sou before, someone forsaking the goodwill of their allies for themselves, and it's what he expects from "allyship" before his experiences with the cast, something that holds you back, something that exists for some selfish reason, and where this goes depends on the route you chose.

Starting with the Logic route, Kurumada wakes up to hear Ranmaru kill Alice/Reko with the locker room trap and tries to find him, this is when Sara wakes up and when Ranmaru claims Kurumada has died, which causes him to enter and punch Ranmaru in a fury, exclaiming that everyone should get to the locker room on the lower floor as fast as they can, after everyone sees Reko/Alice's corpse Kurumada claims that Ranmaru did this. Out of everyone here Kurumada is the most furious at Ranmaru for his actions, and its shown clearly in the prebanquet.

Depending on the dialogue chosen Kurumada will either claim his own body isn't the problem, show his surprise that Ranmaru of all people was the one to do it, or shows his anger at him breaking the promise between himself and Sara. In that final discussion Sara will claim that

acting as though the Dummies and Humans are separate, to which Kurumada reinforces the fact they are still one group with his reply,

making it clear he still saw Alice (or Reko) as an ally, therefore breaking the promise between him and Sara, and he ends the discussion by wondering if he'll get to off Ranmaru himself. If Ranmaru instead died earlier due to not being able to remove the tag function from his collar Kurumada's discussions go slightly different, he doesn't call Ranmaru a weakling, but he also is angry that he had to kill someone and go and die anyways, and he ends the conversion on the note that

Then when the Dummies enter the coffins he claims that he doesn't want his pride to sink any lower if ranmaru is dead

or outright threatening him into the coffin if he is still alive.

Its clear that if Ranmaru dies, Kurumada is lacking a sense of closure, it all comes as a shock and he is mad but there isn't anyone he can directly be mad at, not being as mad at the corpse as he would have been at the person. But we can also see how spiteful he is if Ranmaru is still alive, after all Ranmaru broke that trust between allies, he forsook the others for his own goal, the same as what he thought Keiji was going to do, and the same as what he thought happened to Sou, except here it's one of the Dummies betraying the humans, one of the people he was trying to protect ended up being the one to do it, and its clear just how much it affects him. The Kanna route instead goes in the complete other direction, whereas before he felt betrayed by his own ally, here he is possibly able to make it with everyone intact. If this does happen Kurumada tells Sara,

and asks to listen to a song in order to soak in this moment of peace while he can. This song ends up as a moment of unity between everybody in the room, and it's the moment where everyone can safely say they are true allies, and it's shown when Sara asks Kurumada what he thinks of it, and he replies,

Here is the moment where Kurumada sees the value in others as allies, where we see how Kurumada has grown from "Don't go makin' allies, dumbass." to the "dumbass" who makes allies, and it's a nice feeling, it's not something that has strings attached, not a ploy to get something from you, and not a fake story made up to feel better about forsaking anyone, but a simple happiness gotten from feeling as though you belong and the want to protect the people around you and for them to feel the same way too.

In just the same way Kurumada is affected by his allies, his allies are shown to be affected by him as well. If the cast wasn't able to reconcile with Maple in time Kurumada will take more damage than otherwise, which results in him dying later in the chapter. If this was done while all the other Dummies survived, it will result in him dying during Yabusame's song instead of dying after all the Dummies have already entered the coffins, when this happens Kanna will wonder if he was enduring until this moment while Anzu will run up to him to try and get him to wake up despite Hayasaka telling her that his collar might explode, (playing into her concern for her allies I talked about in her analysis,) which incites Ranmaru to say

From here we can talk to everyone to get their thoughts on his death, Anzu will hide her face saying it's a mess while Hayasaka says "How strange... I feel like he was moving entirely by force of will...", if Alice survived, he will remark that Kurumada was "Wearing an expression as if he accomplished all he set out to do..." and Mai and Hinako will simply stay in silence. Of all the reactions, to me Ranmaru's is the most interesting, he says

and this is shown through his actions. Whether or not Kurumada died, if all the other Dummies were able to make it in the emotion route Ranmaru will be the one to take Kurumada's place in volunteering the Dummies for the banquet,

however if Kurumada died Ranmaru, instead of saying "yeah" will say

before getting into the coffin himself. All these scenes go to show just how much Kurumada has affected his allies, and in particular the Dummies, Ranmaru being the prime example. It in a way reflects how Sou's death affected Kanna, yet again showing how Kurumada fell into the very thing he dismissed earlier.

When during the banquet Sara is forced to choose a glowing coffin with a red hint to defeat Midori, she gets scared that she might be making the wrong choice, and is worried about why Midori isn't afraid to die. In this moment Mai tells Sara to pick it, and if Kurumada is still alive he will pitch in telling her

and if Mai is dead due to the Maple 2.0 fight, he will take the helm of boosting Sara's confidence by telling her

Its Kurumada finally understanding what Sou felt during the second main game, Its death with a purpose behind it, and this time its isn't coming from a place of "not losing" like when he tried to go back down to Maple, or when he doubted there was any way for Ranmaru to get out of his situation safely, but from a place of "winning" of finally being able to defeat Midori, and of being able to save the Dummies, even if it's just one. Here he understands that dying doesn't mean being forsaken because in this moment Kurumada trusts his allies so deeply that he is willing to give up his life for it.

Over the course of 3-1 Kurumada is shown again and again what being allies truly means, something the human Kurumada was never able to get due to his standoffish nature and unwillingness to trust, but after he is humbled by Maple and is forced to rely on his allies he finally is able to trust and through that he shows his humanity, because having trust in your fellow allies is something inherently humane, and its shown time and time again throughout YTTD, whether it be in the trust Joe gives everyone in the first main game and in Alice earlier, or the final moments of Kanna when she asks everyone to trust Sou, or the entirety of the Trust, Barter game from 2-1, time and time again trust is shown and trust is broken by things such as the Main Games, but every single time people's trust in each other is always what pulls through, the unwavering trust the Joe AI shows Sara, or Kanna's trust in Sou throughout the entire game and that being reflected when Sou finally decides to trust everyone in the second Main Game, because placing your trust in the others around you, it's just something that humans can't help but do. ================================================ OMG they just keep getting longer, huh. sorry guys, and I didn't even touch on his past episode and the whole "strong and weak" motif, maybe one day I'll get around to talking about his minisode alongside Anzu's I don't really talk about the early deaths in these analyses since I am thinking about talking about them all together in a single post about all their early deaths and what I think they are supposed to do but I decided to talk about his death during the song since its very different from the rest and it plays into what I was talking about. anyways until next post, Thank for reading!!

#yttd #your turn to die #yttd analysis #yttd dummies #yttd spoilers #Kurumada #naomichi kurumada #character analysis #analysis #why 30 image limit tumblr whyyyyy #i just wanna ramble about the dummies let me please

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raevenswritingdesk · 1 year

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The Women in White - Chapter 1: Prologue

(Series 1, Book 1 of Wayward Sons: a Supernatural re-imagining)

Warnings: supernatural themes, violence, blood and gore, graphic depictions of violence, death, character death

Summary: Estranged brothers Sam and Dean Winchester were trained by their father John from a young age how to hunt the creatures of the supernatural. Years later, the night before Halloween, Sam is visited by his older brother. Turns out, their father has mysteriously disappeared on a recent hunting trip. The creature in question? The same monster that killed their mother, 22 years ago. A darker alternate re-imagining of the pilot episode of Supernatural. The Winchester boys you love, but just a little to the left of how you know them.

Notes: Soooo turns out this is the first thing I'm posting to ao3 on this account (and this tumblr writing wise) and what better way to kick it off than with what's most likely going to be a rather lengthy series if I actually commit to it and don't give up halfway through (fingers crossed that doesn't happen lol). This primarily started out as a writing exercise; a passion project and a way for me to explore my writing style in a creative way through one of my favourite shows. I'm an aspiring author and what better way to practise my skills and prepare myself for (hopefully) the future than to do a re-write/re-imagining of the series that still has the internet in a choke hold even years after its rather…uNique ending shall we say. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to go about this just yet, whether i do it episode-by-episode of every episode, or if I just focus on main plots but we'll see how this first episode goes and figure it out from there, shall we? Let me know what you think and let's go on the shitty joyride together :)

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November 2nd, 1983…

During the day, John and Mary mainly kept to themselves, but if you were to ask any neighbour, any at all, they would all tell you stories of how lovely the young couple were. They were quiet and kind, and were more than happy to raise their two young boys that way in the peaceful American suburbia. To an outside eye they appeared like the perfect happy family.

If only things were that simple.

Mary Winchester loved her boys. With all the tragedies the young mother had faced in her life, the smile on their little faces whenever they looked at her was the blessing she never knew she craved, but that she'd give anything to have again and again. As she carried her eldest into the family nursery that night he sported this very smile; eyes a little dreary from sleep but happy. Oh so happy

“Come on Dean,” she whispered, flicking on the lights. “Let's say goodnight to your brother.”

The young boy had already stirred, turning his small body towards the the door as she set the older of the two sons down, his previous fatigue withering away as he perked up and ran to the wooden crib across the room.

“G’night Sammy,” Dean smiled, leaning over the side of the crib to kiss his brother's forehead.

Resting her hand on his shoulder, Mary leaned over the crib to kiss her baby boy as well, brushing his fine hair back as she did so. “Goodnight my love.”

“Hey Dean,” a masculine voice called from the doorway, causing the pair to turn.

“Daddy!” Dean squealed, running to his father who scooped him up in a tight squeeze; his dark hair messy and eyes sullen from the day's events, but a loving expression plastered on his face nonetheless.

Whilst Mary was all freckled smiles, wild blonde hair and even wilder eyes that had seen much more than their owner would admit, her husband was the exact opposite. John was smoke and whiskey, dark features and even darker clothes, with eyes that screamed ‘get back’, but if examined close enough, held an aspect of warmth and playfulness that threatened to melt that cold exterior away. And it was that warmth that Mary saw as he played with the sandy haired boy in front of her, holding him upside down by his feet as he giggled in protest.

“So what do you think Dean? John chimed, bouncing the now upright boy on his hip. “Think Sammy here’s ready to toss around a football yet?”

Dean just laughed in response, shaking his head. “No Daddy.”

“Thought not,” John chuckled.

“You got him?” Mary whispered, passing the two on her way out of the room.

“Yeah, I got him.”

John hugged Dean closer to his chest as he reached for the light-switch.

“Sweet dreams Sam” he spoke, voice softer than a whisper as the room went dark, not noticing as he walked away that the small night light next to his son's bed had begun to flicker. Or that mere moments after he left, that the clock behind his crib would fail to ever tick again.

…

Mary awoke to the sound of static, with flickering lights gracing her vision as she stirred. Turning to face the baby monitor on her nightstand, she groaned; a familiar concoction of love and annoyance settling in as she rubbed her eyes.

“John?’ she called out, before turning with a sigh to see the right side of their bed unoccupied.

Making her way down the hall, Mary began to shiver, her white nightgown failing to keep out the sudden chill of the house. Did we leave a window open?

As the young mother opened the door to the nursery she noticed her husband had already beat her to it; his tall silhouette standing over their child's bed, cradling the little bundle of blankets in his arms.

“Is he hungry?” she yawned, leaning against the door frame as her drowsiness caught up with her.

The man, obscured by the shadows of the night-lit room, turned; raising a slow and precise finger to his lips without taking his eyes of of baby Sammy.

“Shh.”

Part of her wanted to protest, but with her limbs too tired to comply, all that came out was a soft chuckle.

“Well, all right, join me when you’re done.”

Turning back the way she came, Mary only got about half way down before something caught her eye, a light; its bulb flickering in and out like a rhythmic heartbeat in the night. Curious, she approached it and hummed, tapping on the glass until the pulsing steadied. Squinting at the bulb skeptically, Mary turned her attention to the stairwell across from her, strange lights once again grabbing her eye as she noticed faint light bleeding out of the living room downstairs.

Frowning, Mary made her way down the steps to investigate. First the bulbs and now this? She thought to herself. We only just replaced them and no one should be down here, has the TV decided to quit too? Poking her head around the corner, the mothers frustration turned into relieved sigh as before her lay John sprawled out in his recliner with some old war movie murmuring on the TV to an unconscious audience.

John must have fallen asleep watching it she thought, smiling and reaching for the remote to turn it off. She was about to fetch a blanket to tuck the sleeping man in before it dawned on her.

Wait…

If Johns down here…

Then who was upstairs?

Without a second thought, Mary Winchester rushed back up the stairs, not caring when she tripped on her dress or missed a step; not bothering to wake John in her panicked dash.

“Sammy! SAMMY!” she screamed, heart racing as she flung open the 6-month-old’s door once again. She was about to yell again, fear consuming her thoughts when she suddenly stopped short at the scene before her.

It was only then that John Winchester woke, startled to life by the sound of his wife screaming from the floor above.

“Mary?” John called out, taking in his surroundings as the eager pull of sleep left him.

Silence.

“MARY!”

The young man erupted from his chair, paying his aching limbs no heed as he scrambled up the stairs to his wife's aid. Bursting through the once again closed nursery door he was greeted with an empty room; no occupants except for tiny Sam in the corner, seemingly untouched.

“Mary?” he called again, soft and pleading as he cautiously entered the room.

Approaching Sam's crib slowly, he leaned over to check on the young boy, stroking his head. “Hey Sammy, you okay?”

Suddenly, something dark and damp landed on the sheet next to the boy's head, causing John to falter. He reached across to touch it - wet and warm - and as he did so two more droplets fell on the back of his hand, the dark crimson staining his skin as he realised what it was.

Blood. It was blood.

John felt his breathing hitch as he dared glance at the ceiling above, not sure what to expect, and not in any way prepared for the horrific truth.

There on the ceiling, sprawled out like a lifeless doll, was Mary; the stomach of her once ivory nightgown, now a bloody scarlet. Her once bright eyes now glazed over and wide in a forever frozen state of shock.

The man fell to his knees, his trembling body no longer able to hold his weight as he struggled to breathe. The figure was limp and pale - barely human - but it was unmistakably her.

“No! Mary! NO! ” he cried, as the fresh blood continued to drip down on the room from above, as if the universe were making a morbid mockery of his tears.

Sam began to whine in the crib behind his father as the ceiling of the nursery suddenly ignited, hungry flames engulfing the form of his mother.

John just stared, his body frozen in place as his voice died in his throat; unable to do anything but watch as the woman he loved disappeared from view in the raging fire.

The young father, grieving too fast and too soon, only barely snapped back to his senses as Sam's cries turned into wails, scooping the young boy up hastily on shaking legs and bolting out of the smoking room.

Rushing from the scene behind him, John managed to all but knock over Dean, who had left his room to investigate the matter, hair still tousled from sleep.

“Daddy?” the young boy murmured, his tiny voice placid, yet full of concern.

Without answering, John shoved Sam into Dean's arms in a panic and grabbed him by the shoulders.“Take your brother outside as fast as you can Dean you hear me? As fast as you can and don't look back! Now go, Dean, GO!”

Dean simply stared up at his father for a moment, a thousand emotions stirring in his small head all at once. But with one look at his baby brother - small, defenceless, and clearly distraught - he nodded, taking off down the stairs as John turned towards the fiery room once more.

With a shaking breath, he called his wife's name one last time, before running head first into the flames.

As Dean burst his way through the front door he wasn't sure which was louder; the cries of his brother or the approaching sirens in the distance. The 4 year old was just as concerned, and just as distraught, but he didn't show it. He didn't know what was happening and he didn't know what this all meant but that didn't matter right now. Instead, he simply focused on comforting his baby brother against his chest.

“Shh it's okay Sammy,” he whispered, gazing up at the fire now blazing out of the nursery window. “It's gonna be okay.”

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queenvreads · 6 months

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REVIEW: One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig

3.5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I went into this book with low expectations, as with hyped books I am usually left disappointed. It was good, not nearly as mind-blowing as the reviews say but still enjoyable.

To summarize, our main character Elspeth is infected by a magical sickness. Due to this sickness, she has a monster in her head that speaks to her and provides her power of strength and brutality when she asks for help. This magical sickness is feared by the kingdom, and anyone who is infected is hunted by the King and killed (unless he deems their powers useful to him). The only way to cure the kingdom from this sickness is to collect all the Providence Cards. These cards are the only legal use of magic in the kingdom. Each card has a power like invisibility, mind control, strength, etc. The owner of the card can wield these powers. The cards are extremely valuable. (They reminded me of magic the gathering cards😅)

The story is essentially a quest to rid the kingdom of the sickness and thus heal the people infected. The magic that the infected people have causes a degeneration in them, and ultimately they can die from it.

Okay, so I really did enjoy how different the magical system was in this book. A+ for effort! The world-building was pretty basic after understanding the main plot point. The beginning was intriguing; we are introduced to what's what and all the characters. The pacing was fast at first; I was really into it. And it sort of just tapered off..

The middle of the book was really monotone and flat, in my opinion. I was doing my best to push through so that I did not lose momentum. There were no revelations that had me gasping or surprised me at all. Elspeth especially.. it just felt like the author made her really stubborn for the sake of appearing like a strong female lead. Besides her secret of having a monster in her head she did not elicit any emotion from me.

I did really like the side characters. The Yew family banter was fun, and I don't know why, but they reminded me of the Cullens. 😅 I am curious about Elm though. Its made apparent that he is disapproving of Elspeth and that he is disgusted by her and Rayvn's display of affection. He was also paired up with her so often in the "adventures" that it had me scratching my head. What kind of foreshadowing is this 🤔 or maybe it means nothing at all.

When it came to the romance, I did not feel any chemistry between Rayvn and Elspeth. I felt like Rayvn was meant to be that classic morally grey anti-hero. The author tried to make him seem like he was struggling internally, with his jaw clenching and his dismissive attitude towards Elspeth. In the end, I did not see him do anything that really surprised me.

The ending did pack a punch. Finally, something interesting happened, but even then, it was just okay. Although the cliffhanger was not surprising, I did enjoy it! At first, I gave this book a 4 after that ending. But after sleeping on it, my feelings towards it cooled off.

It's a good story, don't get me wrong, but even with lowered expectations, I just didn't jive with it as much as I wanted to. I will be starting the 2nd book, so hopefully, it will be even better!! 🙏

#one dark window #bookstagram #bookish #booktok #booklr #books #tiktok #book review #romance #romantasy #rachel gillig #bookstore #booksbooksandmorebooks #viral book #booktube #bookstagrammer #ya fantasy #fantasty

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pa1nkill3r · 3 years

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"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

#george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #oml this is long

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY FOUR || ACCOMPLICES

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + nitta akari from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of curses + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 22 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but….

↳ previous episode : the origin of blind obedience 2

↳ barista’s notes : so here we are for the final episode of season one of jujutsu kaisen for my series, it’s been a long journey since i started this in early feburary and now it is late may ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ wow times does go really fast, doesn’t it? well, i hope you enjoy this cup of special classic black coffee and prepare for the jujutsu strolls that are going to be coming soon when you ask for a bit of milk in your coffee ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

Hakufuku : 10:19-10:32

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better…

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 1ST YEAR

“Here you go, you’ll need this”

Turning his head to look up, Fushiguro quickly noticed someone standing over him with their hand stretched out in front of him leading his eyes to peer down, only to notice a bandage wrap within the palm of their hands causing him to turn away as if he was looking away in disgust.

“Here you go, you’ll need this, you drag,” you repeated with the insult causing an irk to appear on Fushiguro’s forehead before turning to look at you with an annoyed expression present on his face.

“Go away, I don’t need it,” Fushiguro mentioned with some hint of annoyance and irritation within his tone causing the same irk to appear on your forehead as you then turned your head to look at the pile of beaten bodies that were behind him - an unsightly common sight since you enrolled into Saitama Urami East Junior High.

Sighing out loud, you suddenly grabbed the back of Fushiguro’s collar and began dragging him across the floor towards the bench that was close by (much to Fushiguro’s annoyance) and threw his body slight causing his upper shoulder area to hit the wooden side of the bench which lead him to hiss in pain.

“I don’t need it~ well sounds like you do,” you teased in a nonchalant manner causing Fushiguro to give you a sharp glare only to see that you had no reaction to it. Reaching into your blazer pocket, you took out a box of painkillers with some plasters in different sizes and a small pot of ointment before placing them on the outdoor bench.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?” you rhetorically asked your classmate before turning back to walk away from the situation since you knew Fushiguro was going to question you on your knowledge about his sister even though he - on the outside - never really took the time to appreciate her or showed that he cared.

“What a drag,” you commented with another sigh before stretching your arms down to release the act that was slowly creeping its way to your shoulders as some students began to exit out of the school building to eat their lunch causing them to notice you as you gave them a little wave.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ever since that day, Fushiguro couldn’t help but begin to notice you slightly from the corner of his eyes as each day went by. At first, you sort of blended into the crowd in the sea of uniforms that was travelling around in the hallway, seeming to not want any attention from the teachers nor the students alike yet you seemed to somehow attract them leading you to offer the same small smile that he had somewhat gotten used to.

On the other hand, Fushiguro couldn’t help but get slightly annoyed at how your name was being called by the second, it was always “Y/N” this or “Y/N” that since you hated your last name being called. As in a matter of fact, he didn’t even have any acknowledgement or a hint of a clue of what your last name was at all. However, when you would say your name in your own tone, Fushiguro slowly began to notice how he then wouldn't get irritated causing a wave of confusion to hit him every time he would wonder why.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to participate in the elections for the student council, the teachers have nominated you?” one female student asked in a light tone causing Fushiguro to peak slightly over his arm as he was taking a nap for this lunch break, only to see you holding a book with a few other female students surrounding you.

“Nah, it’s such a drag...I don’t like taking responsibility for things,” you commented softly as you placed your thumb over the last word you were reading to keep a hold of your place causing the students around you to become confused before asking more questions causing some of your answers to perplex the erratic haired boy himself.

“I’m not good at organising things”

“I don’t have the time”

“I don’t like helping people”

“Liar,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before closing his eyes again to fall into a quick nap while repeating the last words you had said to the students around you.

“I don’t like helping people”

If you really didn’t like helping people, then why did you help him a few weeks ago? As well as leaving some first aid kit items on his table at the end of lunch to restock shall he say? Sure, you had helped other people here and there from letting them copy your notes to little study sessions during lunch to help the other person concentrate but he was wondering why you would help a delinquent like him...but further yet, why didn’t you ask for anything in return.

“Y/N, I found you,” someone shouted, causing Fushiguro’s ears to spike up once he knew the familiar tone to the voice that decided to enter the conversation.

“I wanted to apologise for Megumi’s behaviour for the past weeks and wanted to pay you back for the medical items you had given him,” Tsumiki informed you causing Fushiguro to slowly open his eyes again to see Tsumiki’s arm outstretched with some cash within her palm while you looked down on at with a hint of disappointment in your face.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?”

Placing your bookmark on the page you were on, you gently placed it down before folding Tsumiki’s fingers over the money she was kindly offering you as payment, leading her to give you a surprising expression since, with that action, she instantly knew you were declining.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to repay me...Just take care of him, okay?” you mentioned with a soft tone before smiling up at your senior leading Fushiguro’s curiosity about you to heighten up even further than it was at the beginning.

“I don’t like helping people”

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 2ND YEAR

Walking in the school hallways, Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice how the gloomy and mundane weather was reflecting everyone’s mood as it seemed as if everyone had a lack of energy this morning and to be honest, he couldn’t blame them one single bit.

It was the day after, Tsumiki decided to attempt the test of courage at Yasohachi Bridge causing her to become cursed as she fell into a sudden coma causing guilt to begin eating him almost wholly as he took each step in the hallway.

From what he recalled, Gojo had mentioned that Tsumiki was somewhat saved by a cursed technique leading her to not become physically injured at the attempt of jumping off, yet that didn’t save her from the curse that fell upon her since the lingering reverse cursed energy that was surrounding her body wasn’t enough or effective on her and the other students that decided to tag along with her leading him to wonder who was the person that tried to save his sister and her friends from that night.

Suddenly, Fushiguro heard something drop from behind causing him to turn his body completely, only to discover a fallen student leading him to widen his eyes on the sight before crouching down to check the pulse of the person only to discover that they were fine, as he then processed to turn his head to the side where more students from the classroom beside him began to drop one by one leading him to become more panicked since this was just the day after Tsumiki’s curse.

Unexpatantly, Fushiguro heard someone beginning to run towards his direction causing him to turn his head once again, only to find you running towards him with a somewhat worried expression on your face as you began to look at each classroom to see all the students within them passed out.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted in a panic leading him to quickly stand up on his feet as he reached out to you so he could rush you out of the school building to get you to Gojo to ensure your safety. If you were able to help him multiple times, maybe this time he could help you as his repayment.

Grabbing your hand, Fushiguro turned to his feet to begin running but for some reason, you weren’t running with him due to the halt of his movements when trying to pull you towards the exit of the school.

“Y/N, what are you doing? We got to run!” Fushiguro shouted in anger as he turned his head to face you eye to eye, only to come into eye contact with dark but glowing purple eyes causing his body to slowly become limp as his vision began to become gradually disorientated as an illusion of purple cherry blossoms began to fall around the both of you.

“Hakufuku”

Suddenly, Fushiguro began to lose his footing causing his body to quickly fall, only for you to catch him in your arms as you slowly lowered yourself to make sure his body didn’t harshly hit the floor due to any injuries he had gained from yesterday’s fight as you laid him on his side.

“Sorry, Fushiguro,” you whispered with a hint of regret before rapidly standing back up to run the other way which seemed towards the school’s computer’s system leading him slowly turn his head as he struggled to reach out towards your direction before the same arm dropped completely while his mind began to grow blank while your figure steadily disappeared from his sights while his memories of you began to gradually fade as he tried to maintain them with such difficulty.

“Y/N…”

THE DAY BEFORE THE MISSON

“You’ve been reading those books for quite some time, you know”

Turning your head away from the book placed upon your lap, you discovered Gojo in front of you with a teasing smile on his face as his body was leaning on the side of the doorway he had entered from.

“Well, there are quite a few to go through,” you muttered as you turned your head to the other side to see two piles of stacked up books that were somewhat in equal height right now with one pile of the books that you needed to read while the other was the books you had finished reading during the past weeks since you had moved into the Gojo’s clan estate.

From what you could recall the day you stepped foot into Gojo’s house, he had surprisingly guided you into a room that was filled with bookshelves that had books comfortably sitting in its place causing your eyes to widen at the sight only for him to inform you that all that books had belonged in your name.

“All of them belong to me?” you remembered asking leading your adoptive father to giggle slightly at your confused and flustered state as you began to roam around the pathway the bookshelves had given you, only to land on a particular shelf that had books written from your clan to which seemed to be addressed to you.

“I see you found the books, your mother was really smart to lock them and make sure you’re the only person who could read them,” Gojo mentioned to you when he had found you staring at them leading you to turn to him with a perplexed expression only for him to further explain that whenever he tried to touch the weathered spine of the book he would feel an invisible barrier blocking his movements and even when he attempted to use his infinity, there was no use.

However, when it was you, it just seemed like a normal book due to how easily you pull gently and carefully pull it out of the shelf and open it, only for Gojo to comment that all he could see what blank pages yet sense the linger cursed energy that was coming through the paper-based artefact. While on the other hand, you were able to view the elegant black brush strokes gracing the paper which was slightly confusing since you weren’t able to fully comprehend the poetic and outdated Japanese due to how influential the Chinese language was during the Heian era.

“I can’t believe you are technically older than me~” Gojo teased while wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, causing you to immediately snap out of your daydream to fully turn to him with a completely annoyed expression painted on your face.

“I DIDN’T AGE ONCE DURING MY SEALING, YOU DRAG!” you screamed in irritation causing the servant who was coming to serve you some tea to stumble slightly before regaining her balance as she let out a sigh of relief, leading you to deeply apologise to her before rushing up to your feet to help her on carrying the wooden, circular tea tray that she was holding on for you.

“I wish I got to see you grow into the woman that you are by the time you are reading this, but may you bloom into the sorcerer that you dream to be” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“GOJO! GOJO!”

Slowly, from the loud shouting that was going on, you began to groan in annoyance while opening your eyes to find Itadori and Kugisaki kneeling in front of you with panicked expressions residing in their faces before steadily turning into relief once they noticed that you were smiling at them.

“Good job,” you whispered to them before resting your head back on the tree you were leaning on causing them to smile brightly back at you before high-fiving each other as they shouted on how relief they were as they already had a fright when they discovered Fushiguro laying on their ground before trying to find you.

“Did you collect the finger?” you questioned your classmates leading them to all freeze in a panic since they didn’t expect you to know about the issue with the special curse that was lingering within the domain that you were all previously in. As a matter of fact, you had already sensed it a few moments ago as well those three years back when you were in middle school.

“Ah...about that...Itadori ate it…” Fushiguro muttered in embarrassment, causing you to look at him with a blank stare before turning your head towards Itadori, who was now looking at you with a ‘trying to be innocent’ expression on his face as he scratched his cheek with his index finger.

“Sorry, Gojo...It was an accident,” Itadori stuttered in a light tone, while you continued to give him the blank expression before hitting his head with the handle of your katana causing him to hold the area while wincing in pain as you began to stand up on your feet.

“HEY! YOU FOUR!”

Due to the sudden shouting, everyone head’s to shot up to find Nitta screaming at you and your classmates from above while waving her fist in such an erratic way, trying to emphasise her anger to all of you at this current moment in time.

“What have you four been doing? You wouldn’t answer my calls!” Nitta yelled, causing her voice to echo throughout the entire area causing you to wonder if anyone had turned on their lights due to the loud interruptions from their sleep.

“Oh, Nitta-san,” Itadori called out in surprise as he stared up at the irritated woman.

“She’s lost it,” Kugisaki mentioned, as she too was observing the shouting fit that all four of you were enduring right now.

“Well, shall we go home?” Itadori asked as he turned around to face you, leading the other two first-years to turn to look at you as well causing your eyebrows to raise up

‘Ah...I guess I did think about running away for a second....’

“Yeah, let’s go home,” you answered back before beginning to walk forward leaving Itadori and Kugisaki to talk about having Spendud Sushi as dinner while Nitta was continuing to yell at all four of you from above.

“I know as time passes, the more the Earth will push its fangs upon your shoulder and it’s completely my fault and I deeply apologise from the bottom of my heart. I knew the day that I was blessed with you that I desired nothing more than to give you the easiest route away from all the troubles the Zenin clan had put on us, away from the Jujutsu world and away from the loneliness that you will come face to face once I and your father are gone. I adore you with all my heart and want nothing more than your heart to be blessed with trust, happiness and comfort. Wherever you are, just know that I will always look after you, no matter how long I have to wait, I will always be the mother that I wished I could be for you” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“Why did you leave?”

Turning your head to the side, you found Fushiguro standing on the wooden terrace that you were sitting on with a stern look on his face while you just blinked at him before turning your head to face the garden with a book laying upon your lap as you tried a way to figure out how to bring up the topic that you tried to avoid since coming into acquaintance with the shikigami sorcerer.

“What do you mean?” you asked before closing the book in such a gentle manner, worried that you could damage more than it already was - even if it was such in a good condition after enduring itself for 1000 years.

“Why did you leave? Why did you erase my memory? Why did you go?” Fushiguro queried once again, as he decided to take a seat next to you causing anyone who would see both of you and Fushiguro to notice the contrast in your outfits. At this current moment in time, you were wearing a simple yukata due to being at Gojo’s estate - it was common/courtesy to wear traditional clothing - while Fushiguo was wearing a white jumper with what seemed to be black joggers along with some trainers causing you to come to the assumption that he had either can to talk to you or train with Gojo again like he did last time.

“I’m sorry Fushiguro...but I had to do it,” you answered before grabbing the cup of tea that was sitting right beside you as you then took a sip of the warm drink leading some of your nerves to calm down as you also took a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Fushiguro questioned again in a low tone while staring down at the ground trying to compose himself as more memories of you began to steadily flow in.

“It was too risky,” you answered again as you continued to stare at the garden that was blooming in front of you before turning your head to look at your classmate, who seemed to be in deep thought about the response you had just given him.

“I never got to repay you back from the kindness you had given me,” Fushiguro mentioned as he turned his head up to look at you, only to make eye contact leading the memories of your technique to come into his mind.

“I don’t need a repayment, I just did what I wanted to help you,” you replied back as you placed your cup down onto the wooden tray before laying your upper body down on the terrace while your legs were handing off to the side causing your hair to splay across the wooden platform the both of you were sitting on right now.

“But you don’t like helping people,” Fushiguro quickly mentioned as he turned his head to face you, causing your eyes to move from the sky above you to the boy that was now looking at you with a somewhat small smile planted upon his face causing you to remember the conversation that you had with him and Kugisaki about not telling Itadori the reason why numerous amount of cursed fingers that have been popping up recently - making you come to the realisation that he was technically asking you and Kugisaki to help him keep the guilt away from the vessel of Sukuna himself.

“Yeah...I don’t like helping people,” you answered with the same smile as he was presenting you, causing a light giggle to arise from the both of you.

‘I’ll recommend them for a promotion later...’

“Whoever you fall for the sky for, my dear. I wish you nothing but the world’s blessing to fall upon the two of you. May all the flowers that come to bloom will bring you grace and tenderness that you deserve, the same feelings that I wish I could provide to you as a mother like how the sun gives you its warmth” - Your mother.

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curlynerd · 3 years

Text

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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katnip225 · 3 years

Text

So remember that au where the dream smp is a comic book in the manhunt universe. Well more of that. This is what manhunt!Dream thinks of each character. Now I will just be using the real names but in the comic the names are different. Not doing the tales of the smp characters. Might also get some backstory for Manhunt!Dream

Techno - As stated in my prev post, this is Dream's fav character. He has regularly copied ideas from him. He loves all the pets that Techno has. And how no matter what Techno always follows his beliefs. Might also remind him of his childhood rival.

Phil - finds the character very funny. The 3 months thing. Through does have some very good serious moments like Nov 16th and Doomsday. The guy is clearly not perfect but he really has a hard time hating the guy. Only time he did hate Phil was during Doomsday for letting Friend die and hurting Ghostbur.

Wilbur - easily his 2nd fav. The way his fall was done. It was so heartbreaking. Then his revival. To find out about being alone for 13 years was rough. Dream feels for the guy since being on the run is very lonely. The only people he talks to is when the hunters get close enough for banter. He really hopes that Wilbur gets the help that he needs.

Ghostbur (yes counting this as a different character) - loves the guy. so sweet and just wants to help. Through feels very sad because of the memory thing and the blue. Plus the speech that he gave on Doomsday.

Tommy - this kid can't catch a break. He feels so bad for the kid. Tommy is a good kid that overall does not mean harm. The only thing that Dream hates Tommy for is killing the cat. Dream likes animals and while can understand why Tommy did it, still found himself crying over the cat's death. Dream always wanted pets but his life before on the run was rough and now there is no way he will get one

Tubbo - another kid he feels sorry for. Dream feels bad for Tommy but for some reason Tubbo hits harder. Maybe it is because Tubbo reminds him of one of his neighbor's kid. They are pretty similar in personality from what he remembers. He was sad when the neighbors moved. The scene of Tubbo crying hurt so much. He really wanted to jump into the comic and comfort him.

Ranboo - Easily his 3rd fav. The memory book. The ender walking. The weird connection to main bad guy. The begging to be locked up in the prison. Plus love the marriage to Tubbo. Really hopes they can talk to each other. This comic needs one healthy relationship that lasts. Reminds him of this enderman hybrid that helped. Found the kid lost in the woods and badly hurt. So helped get the kid back to help then took it to the village with the nice baker lady. It was a nice village so hopefully the kid is okay.

Michael - yes doing their son. Super cute. The in comic reason for keeping Michael inside is for safety. I like to imagine there is a small mini series of Michael playing pretend or sneaking out to meet the other kids.

Fundy - neutral. Does not like him but does not hate him. Through is curious about the seeing the future thing. Wonders if this is his god's blood in work. (in the comic, Wilbur is confirmed to be a demigod. Only Phil and Techno know about it but it was confirmed)

Yogurt - cute kid. Hangs out with Michael when he sneaks out.

Puffy - a cool pirate and therapist. Kinda wish that she was his mom. He does not have any parents but he feels like Puffy would be a cool mom. She went feral when Foolish was killed.

Niki - reminds him of a baker he meet once while on the run. This was before he was well known so he could risk being seen. She gave him some free cookies and gave him a discount on the bread when she saw that he did not have much money. Super sweet and nice but also not one to be messed with. He saw how that baker handled an attempted robbery. Sad to see her wanting to hurt Tommy but was so happy that she is healing.

Jack: Feels bad for the character since he is put through so much. Even had to crawl out of hell.

Karl - love the guy. The time travel spin off series is super cool. feels bad for the losing memories things.

Quackity - flip flops between feeling bad and hating the guy. Quackity has been through a lot and Las Nevadas is cool. But he is just doing what the main villian did. Please just heal so you can be at peace. Hopefully him and fiancés will get back together

Jschlatt - great villian. hated the guy. Also reminds him of his neighbors. The father. Through was a much better person. Actually wanted to give a better life for his son (Yes in this au, DadSchlatt is a thing and he is a good father)

Purple - felt bad for the ufo being blowen up but does not feel anything towards him.

Punz - He respect the guy. Reminds him of a mercenary person that once was after him. Through stopped after realizing that the pay was not worth all the chase. Needed to be payed more

Ponk - felt bad for losing his arm but otherwise neutral for the character

Skeppy - over all neutral. Nice guy and feels bad for the possession thing.

Eret - liked the guy then hated the guy then went back to liking him. Glad the character was making up for the whole betrayal thing.

XD - does know what to make of this character. Through does not trust the god with George

Drista - a fun character that can cause a lot of chaos. Would want as a sister. Yes he might get attacked by a fork but hey he already has a younger brother.

Kristen - not much is known about her. Only that she is Wilbur's mom (in the comic, Wilbur does say his mom is a fridge but I am going on what Phil said. Which is that Wilbur got confused when Phil pointed to the fridge which had a pic of his mom)

MD - fun guy. So sad to see him die. Was really helping Tommy

Mamacita - another fun character through has not been seen since MD's death.

Sally - in the comic Sally is a shapeshifter through the writer wanted them to be a fish. Their editor refused to allow that. Not really shown much outside flash backs. I go back and forth on how good of a mom she was. So if she was good then Dream liked her. If not then he hates her.

Slimecicle - very confused. not like conflicted. Just confused.

Sam Nook - like him. Only one he trusts Tommy with. If he could becomes friends with Hunter!Sam would totally ask if he can build something like Sam Nook

Sam - really hates the dude. Does not care that the main bad guy asked Sam to build it. Sam has control so everything is Sam's doing. Plus the whole thing with Ponk. Part of him does remind dream of Hunter!Sam but that was earlier in the comic. Hunter!Sam would never hurt his partner (Yes Hunter!Sam is dating Ponk)

Ant - again the character remind him of Hunter!Ant. Through overall neutral. Does feel bad for the whole possession by the egg thing

Sapnap - hopefully gets back with Quackity. The dude really gets the short end of the stick. Also reminds him of Hunter!Sapnap. Through hopefully his relationship goes better then dsmp!Sapnap (yes Quaickity and Karl are his boyfriends)

George - reminds him of Hunter!Geroge. The weird dream comics were funny. feels bad that the character can't tell what is a dream and what is real.

Bad - again remind him of Hunter!Bad. Only reason why Dream does not hate dsmp!Bad is because he is being possessed by the egg. He did not like Foolish being killed. Also finds it sweet that the character was willing to do something for Skeppy. (yes. Bad and Skeppy have the same relationship as canon)

Dream - is a great villian. very evil. Through as stated before. Does not like the prison treatment. Does see himself in the guy but it is like all his more negative traits were turned up to 1000. Through Dream is lonely and does not make attachments, there is one he can't get rid of. Since that attachment is why he is doing all of this

Foolish - can probably tell he really likes Foolish. reminds him of his younger brother. Foolish being killed was the one time he needed to put the comic down and take a break.

that is everyone. There are a few more that I really don't watch so have no idea what Manhunt!Dream's opinion would be.

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

You are your top 5 Shadow agents

I don’t talk about the Agents as much as I should, even though I constantly try to stress their importance, because I’m working on essays for them individually. To be honest, I think about the Agents practically every day to the point I have a hard time separating my headcanons from the actual canon material, but I have to stay true to it, and the lack of material regarding them means that the only way I can truly talk about their characterization is by diving deep into the novels and taking notes, which I don’t have much time to do, and then finding the right books or moments to talk about, which is even more difficult.

This by no means constitutes my big thinkpiece on them, but it’s a start, and ultimately narrowing it down was a lot harder than I expected. This order is by no means final, if you asked me this question next week or next month I’d probably have a different answer, but it’s the 5 that I find myself thinking on the most.

Honorable mentions: Jericho Druke and Myra Reldon, who are incredibly awesome characters conceptually and who have great moments each, and whom I definitely think deserve big turns on the spotlight if the Agents ever get put on the spotlight again, but are held back by issues with their presentation and lack of prominence. Margo Lane, whom only just narrowly missed the cut because, as much as I like her and think she gets an underseved bad rep and definitely has great things going for her, I sadly have to concede isn’t as consistently great or well-written as she should be. Clyde Burke, whom I definitely like a lot based on what I’ve read and consider an integral part of the line-up, but haven’t read enough of the novels he’s in to really solidify him as one of my favorites just yet. And Slade Farrow, who is a bit too complicated to talk about superficially.

Allright, so here they are

Number 5: Burbank

As the center of all communications within The Shadow’s network and the only character in the series who is even more mysterious and elusive than The Shadow himself, Burbank is fascinating and the kind of character who simultaneously seems to be both begging for an in-depth exploration and yet who also should be dead last on the list of mysteries about the series we want spoiled, because nobody wants the mystery ruined. He’s a bit of cipher personality-wise compared to the other agents, but he kind of has to be, and I think it helps to illustrate the many forms the agents of The Shadow can and should take, that one of them is this total mystery whom we know nothing about and yet is so vital to the whole thing. And it’s interesting also because, for all the many variations we’ve had on The Shadow’s life and thoughts and feelings and etc over the years, Burbank has stayed more or less the same. Whatever variations he’s had in design aside, Burbank just is.

The pulps did often have moments where we would get to see moments that told us a little more about Burbank, gestures he did, capabilities he had and didn’t have, little details Gibson would sprinkle in to keep people fascinated. Several scenes with Burbank are almost presented like you’re watching a movie, in the way Gibson keeps describing his face being mysteriously blocked from view by objects or lighting, like not even in your mind you are supposed to know what he is. And it’s all the more fascinating because, unlike The Shadow, as far as we know, Burbank is just some guy who’s good with tech, who was only recruited in the 2nd story but apparently knows The Shadow from before it, and whom The Shadow entrusted with virtually every secret necessary to keep his operations running.

It’s kind of a sign as to how utterly neglected the agents are that, to this day, few writers who’ve ever touched The Shadow has ever come close to giving us any sort of explanation or backstory or anything on Burbank, and I refuse to believe these people had that much self-control. Of course I have my own ideas for Burbank, but even I would hesitate to put them on a story, because Burbank epitomizes that double-edged sword that comes with a solid narrative mystery. Burbank just is, and hopefully he will stay that way.

Number 4: Dr Roy Tam

Mention of Dr. Tam meant much to Sayre. He was acquainted with Roy Tam, the Chinese physician. He knew that Tam was a power in Chinatown; one who worked for good

Unrolling a map, Tam showed the entire Manhattan area, studded with tiny dots in districts quite remote from Chinatown.

"These represent my outposts," he said soberly. "They are places, owned by Chinese - restaurants, laundries, curio shops, other places of business. In each of these places, I have a friend."

The Shadow understood. Dr. Tam was the motivating factor among the Chinese who adapted themselves to American ways. His mission was to create good will among races, to put an end to prejudice and superstition.

A newer and more sober spirit had replaced the old and dangerous festivities. Feuds in Chinatown were a thing of the forgotten past. Dr. Tam and his associates had done much to bring about the present sentiment; but there were persons - even among that group - who felt regret at the passing of old traditions.

Dr Tam is a remarkably layered character for one that only appears in about ten stories, and he’s one of the agents I’m most eager to discuss in-depth. He’s another one of those agents that Gibson introduced by tricking you into seeing him as a villain, as a Yellow Peril cliche, until he is revealed to be in fact a good man. Not just good, Roy Tam is presented as a powerful, influential and cunning Chinese man with a lot of assistants secretly working for him, and who is consistently presented as a progressive, pacifistic, benevolent civic leader and ally, even friend, of The Shadow.

Tam is very much westernized and the stories paint that mostly as a good thing, and this is one of the areas that I think could very much result in an interesting story that looks at the ramifications of his role, because of course not everyone is going to agree with his viewpoints, of course him being an advocate against superstition and tradition isn’t necessarily a good thing (and it’s not how Yat Soon, The Shadow’s other major Chinese ally, works, which puts the two at odds), and of course it’s a complicated situation, but the fact that Tam invites this kind of debate at all I think is something very interesting

Largely because of the movie, Dr Tam is one of the few agents of The Shadow who’s managed to sustain appearences in modern stories, and none of them have ever really went with his original angle as a powerful civic leader. Instead he’s been largely painted as either a scientist, like in the movie, a general practitioner, and a psychiatrist, and his age has been all over the board.

I prefer him in his original form but I also very much like the idea of Roy Tam being, like the Chinese supervillains he was created to be a subversion of, an incredible genius who’s got skills in all fields that can fit under the “Dr” part of his job and is also an incredibly capable leader able to unify splintered communities under a cause of unity and cooperation, someone who absolutely could be the adventuring genius so many other pulp heroes are, except he dedicates himself wholesale to his community and the fight against prejudice and the betterment of lives, even if he’s misguided or wrong at some of the causes he takes up. I really think this character could partake in really great stories if ever brought back.

Number 3: Cliff Marsland

(Fan-art by @cryptixcreations)

Cliff may have actually been the first agent I really fell in love with based on concept alone, even before I read the stories he was a part of and started loving all of the others. He’s one of the few agents who has prior history with The Shadow and we get ever so tantalizing hints at his background that we ultimately never get to learn about in full. He’s the resident tough guy and underworld contact of The Shadow, which in any other series might have made him the biggest badass and a loner action hero who’s too cool for things like thinking and relying on others for help. But here, trying to be that only gets Cliff into trouble, and circumstances gradually morph him into the series equivalent of a Team Dad.

He was one of the agents who we got to see develop as a character. As he appears more frequently past his introduction, he grows from a headstrong, careless jackass, mostly interested in the action parts of the job, who “resigned himself to an adventurous career with violent death as its inevitable termination”, into one of the most reliable and capable agents, taking the lead during action scenes but otherwise fully defering leadership to Harry, and being the agent most likely to partake in gunfights and rescue The Shadow out of trouble, joining in missions like infiltrating circuses or high-society clubs and forming very strong friendships with Harry, Clyde & Hawkeye, who almost kills a man with his bare hands when he thinks Harry’s been killed. He’s the hardass, square-jawed ex-con who plays the reputation of a brutal killer, and is in reality a great friend, ally and husband (Arline has sadly only been mentioned in three stories), on top of being an invaluable fighter and secret agent.

Cliff could have easily been the protagonist of a long-running series all his own and that’s one of my favorite aspects of The Shadow’s agents. They are people with agency, goals and dreams and relationships and lives beyond the roles they play, they all have strengths and weaknesses and faults and positives that bring them much closer to us than The Shadow could ever be, with no end to the variety of roles they can take, and Cliff in particular is a character I’m very attached to.

I do hope that he eventually found peace in a quiet life with Arline once his business with The Shadow was over.

Number 2: Harry Vincent

The Shadow as a franchise has been vastly worse off as a result of Harry Vincent being completely sidelined and mischaracterized in virtually every adaptation since, and the sheer love that Shadow fans hold for Harry purely may be the closest thing to a true universal opinion in the fandom.

Harry is a lot of things: the audience surrogate, the protagonist of much of the early stories, the leader of the agents in field duty, the dude in distress who gets kidnapped far more than even Margo, a hopeless romantic, an action hero, the one who gets sent to recruit agents because all The Shadow has to do is send Harry on an assignment and wait for him to come back with a new friend. He is a competent, resourceful, strong, extremely kind ball of sunshine who's got the potential for greatness, even if he can't see it.

And for this post I’m going to highlight this: Harry is, on top of all that, the ultimate embodiment of what The Shadow strives to protect, help and uplift. He is the living proof that The Shadow's mission has a good, positive effect in the world, long after criminals are brought to justice and plots are failed and victims are rescued, purely by the fact that he’s alive and helping others who were once like him. Someone who, despite having so much to offer, could have easily been swept away by the world’s callousness and cruelty, if The Shadow wasn’t there to rescue him and uplift him.

I liked The Shadow pretty much at first sight after seeing the character’s design and listening to episodes of the radio show, and my appreciation for the character grew after reading The Shadow’s Shadow, but it wasn’t until I encountered @oldschoolcrimefighters and her brilliantly informative writings on The Shadow and Harry that I not only fell in love with the series, but decided to do everything in my power to try and get other people to love it too and see the potential it has. I think a lot more people should at least be aware of why Harry matters.

Number 1: Moe Shrevnitz

I was honestly a bit surprised when I rounded up all of the agents to make this list and Shrevy here ended up in Number One, but in hindsight, it may have been obvious all along.

My reasonings as to why Shrevy is my favorite agent do get a bit too personal, especially because of something that happened to me as I was writing this post, so I’m putting it on a separate post here.

#the shadow #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #replies tag #harry vincent #moe shrevnitz #roy tam #cliff marsland #burbank

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The First of Many {Nessian}

Fluff, because Mother’s Day was yesterday. Written alongside the beautiful and talented love of my life, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty :) From the 2nd gen modern au world of our “The Arrival” short series. enjoy x

It was just after five in the morning when Cassian’s phone began to vibrate under his pillow. He quickly grabbed for it, silencing it and fighting the urge to groan as he rolled face down on his pillow. He debated on taking an extra five minutes to sleep, but knew if he did, he wouldn’t have time to make it to the other room. So even though it went against every fiber of his being, he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed.

He pulled on the sweat pants he’d discarded at the end of the bed the night before and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he yawned. Rounding the bed, Cassian picked up the baby monitor and flicked the switch to mute it. He could see their son sleeping through the screen and smiled. He glanced down at Nesta, still peacefully sleeping in their bed. He wanted to brush her hair off her forehead so he could see her beautiful face, but didn’t want to wake her. He looked back to the screen and saw tiny, squirming arms and swore, carefully setting the monitor down and jogging across the hall.

He stepped in the room and closed the door with a soft click. His seven-month-old son was babbling to himself in the crib, but Cassian knew that was short lived. He crept to the rocking chair in the corner and sat, closing his eyes until he was needed.

He woke up with a start when a piercing cry shook the room.

He jumped to his feet and picked up his young son, cooing down at him and gently bouncing him. “No, buddy, please. It’s mama’s first Mother’s Day and she’s very, very tired.”

Thorn’s cries died down, although he was still fussing as Cassian carried him from the room and down the stairs. The further away from the master bedroom he got to get this kid through his morning routine, the better chance Nesta had to sleep in.

And that was the plan.

So Cassian and Thorn entered the kitchen to warm up a bottle, and while it was heating, Cassian changed his diaper, although Thorn hardly stayed still as he did so. By the time Cassian got the diaper strapped on him, he didn’t even care about attempting to get his pajamas back on.

At least by that point, the bottle was warm, and Cassian plopped down on the couch with his baby boy and fed him the bottle as he said, “So, it’s Mother’s Day today. This time last year you were in mama’s belly. That means that we have to make today extra special.”

Thorn looked up at Cassian with big hazel eyes and long, dark lashes as he drank.

“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “I got her flowers on my way home last night, and I said they’re from you, but I’m not going to ask you to sign the card...you know, because you can’t. However, I got this little handprint thing, right? Which means daddy’s going to stick your hand in ink, press it against a sheet of paper, then frame it...and we have to do that before mommy wakes up. You up for that?”

Thorn gurgled, forcing milk to drip down his lip and onto his belly.

“Awesome,” Cassian said, wiping it off with a burp cloth. “I’m going to take that as a yes, and I’m also going to ask that you don’t do that on the gift. Alright?”

Thorn spat the nipple out of his mouth and giggled, reaching up for Cassian. With a soft, fond gaze in his hazel eyes, Cassian set the bottle on a coaster and held Thorn up against his chest, patting his back as he stood and carried Thorn into the kitchen.

They were the first out of their little group of friends and family to get pregnant, and Cassian had been the first to admit that he knew nothing about babies. He’d been an only child and had a shitty home life growing up, which meant that when Nesta had told him that they were going to have a baby, that he was going to be a father, he had freaked the fuck out.

He laughed thinking back on it. Now, he felt like he filled the daddy role fairly well. The best he could, anyway. He may not do everything by the book, but he was doing the best he could, and he really loved his boy.

And Nesta was a kickass mom.

Which was why her first Mother’s Day had to be perfect. It was the start of many Mother’s Days, the foundation of them all, the one that would forever set the bar for the future.

He’d spent weeks trying to decide what he should do for Nesta today, everything from a day at the spa (too expensive) to the new purse he’d seen her eyeing when they’d been walking back from Thorn’s six month check up last month (also too expensive), and he’d even asked his brothers. Neither of them had been helpful and he imagined Feyre and Elain were going to be spending their first Mother’s Days disappointed if their suggestions of a candle and “a nice book” held true.

Things had been rough since Nesta had Thorn the fall before. They’d discussed it during her entire pregnancy, and Nesta decided to quit her job as a travel agent and be a stay at home mom. It was everything Nesta had always dreamed of, but going from two salaries to one had made things a bit more tight around the Nazari house. It also didn’t help that Thorn had to have the special kind of formula, otherwise there weren’t enough diapers in the world to keep him changed and happy.

Cass pulled the Bumbo seat from the kitchen table where Nesta had been feeding him the night before and set it on the counter. He set Thorn in it and buckled him up, chuckling as his son immediately began to smack his little feet against the surface. He babbled and Cassian couldn’t help but grin as he reached for his own foot, the thick padding of the seat keeping him from grabbing it.

“Not quite, bud,” Cassian said, smiling, as he crossed the small kitchen and opened the pantry. He reached into the very back, behind the two year old boxes of jell-o and the stash of Ramen noodles he kept hidden away and got the stamping kit he’d ordered the week before.

“Alright, now this stuff is messy,” he said, reading the directions on the back of the box to his son, even though he had no idea what he was talking about. He set down the box and leaned down on his elbows in front of Thorn. “So we’re going to lay down some towels so mama doesn’t cut daddy’s favorite body part off for staining her counters. Cause we want to give you a brother or a sister one day, yes, we do.”

Thorn began blowing bubbles and he grabbed for Cassian’s hair.

With a chuckle, Cassian opened the junk drawer and took out a hair tie to bundle up his shoulder-length hair before they continued. He had learned fairly quickly that Thorn, although little, had a hell of a grip. Nesta wouldn’t let him cut his hair, though.

She loved it long.

She liked to grab onto it, too, from time to time.

After finding a towel and setting it down, he opened the contents of the box. There wasn’t much in it, just an ink pad, a piece of cardstock, and a little picture frame to put it in when it was all finished.

“Alright,” Cassian breathed, opening the inkpad and setting it down. He had hardly reached for the cardstock when Thorn picked up the inkpad and was bringing it to his little mouth. With a violent curse that probably shouldn’t be muttered in front of a seven-month-old, Cassian took the inkpad back, set it a solid distance away, and wiped Thorn’s hand off with the towel.

Hopefully Nesta didn’t love that towel, because it was going to be a mess, Cassian was certain, by the time they were done.

“We gotta hurry,” Cassian said, taking Thorn’s little hand into his and pressing it into the ink. Thorn looked completely confused. “Mama will be awake soon.”

Thorn, little fingers wiggling, pressed his hand against the cardstock. It looked like a giant blob. Cassian frowned. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

“Yeah, we’re gonna try that again on the back,” Cassian muttered, setting it aside as he picked up the inkpad and pressed Thorn’s little hand into it, once again. “This time, spread out your fingers, kid.”

Thorn babbled something angrily at his daddy.

Cassian assumed it resembled something close to “fuck you”.

He blew out a quick breath and said, “Alright, Nazari, you do this all the time. Just like taking fingerprints.”

Thorn was staring up at the ceiling and pointing with his clean hand, so Cassian took advantage of the distraction and Cassian rolled his hand, from heel to fingertip, across the cardstock, and let out a sigh of relief when he was left holding a perfect print of a chubby, little hand.

Cassian unwrapped the picture frame, throwing the plastic away and carefully lined the print up in the frame. He set it upright and looked at it, with a satisfied grin.

The frame read “Best mommy, hands down”, and Cass was about to pat himself on the back for figuring out a way to slip a pun into Nesta’s Mother’s Day present when he remembered Thorn’s hand was still covered in ink.

And now, so was his entire little, chubby body.

“Ah, fuck,” Cassian sighed, setting the frame down before unbuckling Thorn from the Bumbo seat and carrying him up the stairs, quietly, and into the bathroom across the hall from the nursery. He shut the door with a soft click before turning on the water, tossing Thorn’s diaper in the garbage under the sink, and setting him inside. “We have to stay quiet,” Cassian whispered, turning off the water, running a soapy washcloth over Thorn’s legs. “Mama’s still sleeping.”

At the mention of mama, Thorn was giggling and clapping his hands.

“I know, we love mama, don’t we?” Cassian chuckled, washing off all the tiny, little inked handprints that had covered Thorn’s soft, tanned skin. Once the baby was clean, Cassian wrapped him in a towel and looked in the mirror. Cassian grinned at the reflection of him and his mini-me as the tub drained, and it was then that Cassian realized he had a series of tiny handprints across his own chest.

He turned, reaching for where he’d laid the washcloth over the edge of the sink, and-.

The door opened and a sleepy Nesta shuffled forward a step, before jumping back, a hand to her chest. “Oh, my god, Cassian, you scared the-.” She took in the image before her. “Your- Is he- What is happening?”

Cassian tried to play it cool, but at the sight of Nesta, Thorn began to babble excitedly and was wiggling in Cassian’s arms. “Good morning, beautiful, what are you doing up?”

Nesta looked at him through tired, narrow eyes. “I had to pee. What’s going on?”

“Just some father son bonding time,” Cassian lied, coolly. “We’ll just head downstairs so you can do what you need to do and-.”

He’d been trying to slip past her, but a hand was planted firmly on his chest before he could make it out of the bathroom. “What did you do to my baby? What is all over your chest?” She tried to fight off the yawn that made her pause, but she couldn’t. “And what time is it?”

“Go back to bed,” he whispered, and planted a kiss on her forehead before carrying Thorn back down the stairs, ignoring a confused, protesting Nesta.

He grabbed a diaper from the changing basket in the living room, strapped it on his infant, and walked back into the kitchen. Thorn continued to babble as Cassian threw the garbage away, opened the pantry and pulled a bouquet of flowers and a card out, which he’d hid there after he returned from work last night. After collecting the picture frame in his hand, too, he carried them all back up the stairs. Nesta was still in the bathroom, although the sink was running.

Thorn was picking flower petals off of one of the roses as they entered the master bedroom. Cassian was at the point that he didn’t give a damn.

He set down the picture frame, the card, the flowers, and himself on the bed. After falling back against the pillows, he laid Thorn on his chest and let out a long, slow breath.

Thorn was instantly alert, pulling himself up on his hands to look at Cassian.

“Mission accomplished, bud. Good job,” he said, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

He babbled incoherently again and Cassian chuckled, laying back and closing his eyes. He could feel Thorn’s little heart beat against his skin and he sighed, loving this moment.

It took no time at all for Thorn to fall back asleep and Cassian to do the same.

He only awoke five minutes later because he heard constant sniffling from beside him.

Cassian's eyes shot open, although careful not to wake Thorn as he looked at the other side of the bed where Nesta sat, the card open on her lap, staring at the little framed handprint in her hands.

“Fuck,” Cassian yawned. “I missed your reaction? Damn it.”

A laugh bubbled out of Nesta as she looked up from the handprint to her husband. “It’s pretty much what you’re seeing right now. I guess the war paint makes sense now,” she said, glancing down at the ink still covering his chest.

“You should have seen your son before I gave him a bath. Face, hair, belly, legs.” Cassian chuckled and absent mindedly resumed his circles on Thorn’s back.

Nesta lovingly set the frame on her nightstand, right next to the baby monitor. She looked at the flowers, the card, the frame and her eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you. This is- It’s perfect. I love you so much.”

Cassian lifted his arm, allowing his wife to scoot closer and lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. She brushed Thorn’s soft hair from his face and whispered, “Has he eaten?”

“Had a full bottle,” Cassian said, nestling back into the pillows.

She turned her head slightly, so she could see his face. “He’s been changed?”

He cracked an eye and he was doing his best to hide that sheepish grin she loved so much. “Technically, we’re on diaper number three of the day.”

Nesta sat up slightly and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “And he’s been burped?’

Cassian laughed, “Contrary to what our family believes, I actually can take care of our kid.”

Nesta snorted. “I never said you couldn’t, but usually I’m the one up doing it all because you’re usually at work.”

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but Cassian turned his face and caught her lips.

“I couldn’t miss your first Mother’s Day,” he muttered against her mouth.

She snuggled up next to him, gently running a finger over Thorn’s soft cheek. “He’s the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten,” she mused, lost in the way his little fist was wrapped tight in the blanket Cassian had covered them with.

“He’s the greatest gift you’ve ever given me,” Cassian said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, curling up against him, carefully laying her hand on Thorn’s back.

He held her as close to him as he could. “What else do you want to do for your first Mother’s Day?”

“It’s six-fifteen on a Sunday morning, my sexy ass husband has taken care of our baby, and I don’t have to get out of bed all day,” she mumbled, face pressed into his skin. “I want to sleep.”

“Sleep or sleep? Because Thorn is out….I can easily carry him into the nursery and lay him down…” Cassian muttered.

Nesta rolled her eyes as she yawned. “Sleep.”

“Fine,” Cassian sighed, closing his eyes.

A moment passed, the three of them snuggled close in the silence.

“Although,” Nesta said, looking up at Cassian, “if you want to lay him down first-.“

Cassian was already sitting up, Thorn asleep against his chest with his little mouth hanging open. Nesta laughed as he quickly, but carefully, hurried across the hall and was back in a flash. Rather than go around to his side of the bed, he jumped onto the mattress and tackled Nesta into the pillows.

“Cassian!” She cried, laughing. His face was pressed in her face and he looked up, grinning.

“Nesta!” He said, doing a spot on impression of her scolding voice. He rolled off of her and wrapped her up in her arms, softly kissing her. He ran a hand down her body and Nesta kissed him back, her sleep quickly forgotten.

Cassian pulled away and said, “Shit…”

Nesta asked, concern in her voice, “What is it?” She looked toward the open doorway, half expecting to find their infant son standing there.

He reached across the bed and flicked the switch on the baby monitor. The sounds of their son’s room filtered through the speaker.

They both waited a moment, in silent tension, waiting to see if his silence remained. When it did, Cassian let out a loose breath and laughed, quietly.

His hands snuck up beneath her shirt, his shirt that she’d slept in.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” she smiled, running her fingers through his hair.

“Time to make you a mommy all over again,” he muttered, mischief dancing in those hazel eyes as he pressed his mouth to hers.

Nesta laughed against his lips as she let him do just that.

#nessian #nesta #cassian #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #collab #TOAAB #shara tag #cassian x nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #modern au #gen 2 #the arrival

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange.

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

#so... fucking... long #I'm so tired #was gonna write request tonight but I have to sleep #hope people like this at all lolol #if not might cry #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger headcanons #fanfiction #headcanons #my writing #rewrite

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lesbiancarat · 3 years

Note

Haha its fine! Im book anon for a reason so take all the time you need! Before I start, I wanna apologize for the possible asks you got about the merch and hybe in general. I didn't intend to cause stress and need to be careful bdjahdsj so slap me with a fish!

Onto the ask! But agreed, I mean before the big kpop boom we saw, this was very common. Build a decent fanbase and then move to Japan or China. (Of course sometimes you see INSTANT movement in other countries but that depends on the company and such but you know what I mean) but since we do have the more global kpop era, we may see more companies do America which isn't a bad thing. It makes sense buisness wise so they will jump on it after debut or something. Thus I don't see it a bad thing for kpop groups to promote in America because hey, if in Korea they do sell western artist music who also tour there, kpop groups can also do the same ya know?

Now onto the hybe comment, I will try not to speak too much on it so I will try to summarize. I think my theory is due with merch from their main artist, they think maybe it could work with svt which maybe could but svt has a different fanbase so throwing on random merch won't make fans really want to buy (not saying some won't which kudos to you! As a fan you are allowed to consume what you please except not be a bad apple about it) so thus like the infamous water bottles which was done for bts, they thought why not do it for svt because bts fans sold it out apparently for a 2nd wave of it being sold again. (Which to this day idk why someone in the hybe team thought this was smart. Like...this is just in bad taste imo) I do wanna agree that it appears that hybe doesn't seem to have a proper art team for svt because while sometimes wild, I do know for their main artist they do have thoughtful merch based around say an album concept I recall. Kf course they will make mistakes i.e. the water bottles. I do wish it can improve because even though it is capitalism, I think fans do want decent merch. We have seen interesting ideas like svt making their own magazine and selling it lol. Of course it is hard to please because some fans want subtle merch ideas while others don't mind the vibrant pastel colors we got or some want wild ideas like svt figurines or something. Overall I hope I didn't drag this too much as I just wanted to respond back to you, I agree with many points you said so yeah cx I say let's also wait as this is barely what, a year or even less of svt being under hybe properly. Especially when hybe had its rebranding and expanding so things are being changed, I know fans are worried about this which is valid but let's not panic just yet. Let's come back in a year to this and see what has improved and what hasn't. (OK but peldis sold the boys rings!? :o since when!? I haven't heard of this actually, when did this happen if I may ask?)

Oof yeah sadly with streaming, many view "oh you don't stream it means you aren't a fan" when isn't the case (which is why I personally don't like when certain companies also do "listening parties" which seems a bit ???) I do remember this popped up big in 2017 but many fans called it out so it quiet down a bit. Like we didn't see it so often where fans were causing problems over it so idk why this returned nor what the cause of it was.

But thank you!! It really was a nice closing chapter, I think when I have personal stuff settled I will try maybe get a new bunny? And oohh congrats on the album! (Note to hybe or pledis. Please make the us store a more common thing, it makes things so much easier! Am happy it was at your place quick so kudos to the us store. Oohh wonderful choices! I think for many fans anyone or heaven's cloud seems to be the popular picks? For me, I may have to say game boi or heaven's cloud as well! Those songs make me just so happy? Like game boy is just so creative with the way it was made. As a video game nerd, it is perfection. I could make an essay about this song lol and heaven's cloud is just...wow. I feel so at ease with the song, comfortable and soothed. Like you are on a cloud lol. Also that is totally fine! Rtl was a grower for me (I blame the mv, it didn't do the song jusitice) but it is a bop and can't stop humming the chorus at random moments. Overall a great summer album. Just imagine any of these songs performed live ndjansns

lol don't feel too bad about it! honestly they weren't that bad + i can always delete asks if i really don't want to answer them, i just always get a bit paranoid that things will get out of hand so i may end up getting more serious in those situations OTL

and yeah i agree! i don't think it's a bad thing for groups to promote in the US, as you said, it's similar to groups expanding their fanbase by promoting in china or Japan or other asian counties, it makes sense from a business standpoint and there's nothing wrong with promoting in different countries. i just wish that some kpop stans understood that western and/or global popularity is a bonus and not a requirement for success. while they do have a global appeal, at the end of the day kpop's main audience is korea, and groups that achieve popularity in Korea have already achieved what they set out to do. but there's unfortunately a decent chunk of international fans that prioritize western popularity over anything and can't fathom that a group can be successful without being popular in the US. or they just talk as if their groups western achievements are more valuable than their Korean ones and to me that starts to look like xenophobia... (sorry if I'm repeating anything i said before in regards to this, i feel like i am but I'm too lazy to go back and check OTL)

since you sent this ask hybe released the caratland merch which was actually really nice, and today they also announced that there will be birthday merch for cheol (and presumably all members from here on out). we don't know what the bday merch is yet but some carats are already a bit miffed that hybe is even thinking to capitalize off the boys' birthdays... i bring both of these up bc i feel like the caratland merch proves your point that hybe is capable of designing good and thoughtful merch, and honestly this does reassure me a bit. but on the other hand them trying to capitalize off the boys' birthdays also proves that they still don't fully understand carats wants and priorities as a fanbase. which, if the future of seventeens merch is gonna be quality merch with some shitty cash grabs in between, i can live with that. I'm not gonna like the shitty cash grabs and i think it would be in our best interest as a fandom to not go crazy buying those shitty cash grabs, because if we don't then hybe will hopefully stop wasting their time and put more effort into /quality/. but if we get quality merch for important events like concerts and fanmeetings, i can live with it. as you said too, it can take time for these things to change, and we should all recognize that. but at the same time merch specifically is market driven, so i don't think it's a bad thing if people like @ hybe on twt about any bad merch that comes out in order to drive that change dhfkfj

but also on a maybe more fun note in regards to the merch... with some carats being upset about the bday merch i was thinking about what hybe could do for merch instead that would fill the niche of being at intervals throughout the year that could still be limited time drops but that carats wouldn't be mad at them capitalizing on and then i was like duh! they could literally just make merch off of going seventeen! honestly I'm surprised they haven't yet. maybe not merch for every episode, but they could have a line of permanent gose merch w a basic logo or something and then release limited time merch themed around some of the more popular episodes at various points during the year. I'm actually kind of obsessed with this idea now and for once I'm like hybe/pledis please capitalize off of this!! dhfkgjg

they never actually sold them, but for seventeens 3rd anniversary, pledis planned to sell replicas of seventeens rings. after it was announced carats were understandably upset since the boys worked so hard for those. luckily pledis heard carats concerns and put out an apology and didn't manufacture them in the end. I'm glad that at least they listened to carats even though it would have been better if they had never considered the idea in the first place :(

oh yeah listening parties are definitely just another marketing technique to boost streams. i think like with a lot of marketing techniques, it just depends on the execution. imo if they're done well it can be a good way for fans to connect while listening to an artists music, which is mutually beneficial for the company, but i can totally see a situation where companies get greedy and push it too hard. i don't know anything about what happened with them back in the day, but if you're curious why SVT had listening parties leading up to your choice, they were set up by UMG, the American distributor that SVT worked with for this cb. in this case the listening parties weren't just for boosting streams, but also likely for UMG to gauge interest. SVT isn't officially signed to a US label yet, but UMG's data from the listening parties could be used to show US labels whether or not there's enough interest for them to be signed. which if that happens we'd almost definitely see a more permanent US shop!

ahh yes, once you're ready I'm sure it would be great to have another bunny companion 🥺

yes! heavens cloud and gam3 bo1 are both such feel good songs! my sister actually added heavens cloud to their Spotify after i made them listen to the album in the car dhfkf it's now one of 6 kpop songs they have saved (4 of which are SVT... my influence 💅 DHFJFH) I'm certain we'll see some of the songs from your choice at caratland this year, hopefully it's all of them but I'd especially like to see heavens cloud and wave 👀 I'm also still crossing my fingers for an i wish live performance bc i can't believe my favorite SVT b-side is one of the TWO tracks they haven't performed live not including the new album (the other one being network love, which i would also like to see live!)

#melia.ask #📖 anon #long post #it always takes me so long to answer these bc i am incapable of shutting up OTL

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trexrambling · 4 years

Text

‘Till The End

Summary: Sam and Dean reminisce about the past.

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: mild language, feeeeeeeeeeeels

Request: Sam and Dean are reminiscing and the Nair incident comes up, leading Sam to share some feelings and things he has never opened up to Dean about. And Dean really listens and hears him. If you make me cry a little that would be lovely. - @awesomesusiebstuff

A/N: Hope you like how it turned out, lovely :) It went a completely different direction than I was originally intending...

The worn, bound photo album hit the table with a loud thump, causing Sam to jump slightly. A rise of dust accompanied it, making his nose itch with the onset of a sneeze that he quickly rubbed away with the side of his hand.

“Man oh man, Sammy,” Dean gleefully chimed, pulling out a chair and joining him at the long desk, “you won’t believe what I found.”

“Hopefully the manuscript we’ve been looking for. Or weapons. You know, the whole point of you going to dig through some of Dad’s old storage units?”

“Even better.” Dean spun the album towards him and cracked open the cover, a wide smile on his face.

A faded family picture took up the whole first page, and Sam quickly leaned closer. “Is that-”

“Us, yeah.” Dean’s fingers gently traced the worn outline, of John with an arm around Mary and one hand holding Dean’s while Mary cradled Sam against her chest. An offset look filled his eyes before he collected himself again. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

The playful tone was back, and Sam felt a small twist of dread in his gut that instantaneously manifested into a loud groan when Dean’s hurried flipping finally landed on the sought after page.

“How the hell does that photo even exist?” He reached out to grab the book, but Dean hastily slid it from his grasp.

“Careful, Sammy. You’ll bend the pages.”

“Good.”

“This photo is priceless.”

“I’m bald.”

Dean lost his composure then, a loud laugh rolling from his gut. “Oh man, I’d forgotten that I’d taken this when you weren’t looking. To think that this has been hidden from us all these years when we could have been appreciating the glory of-” Dean flipped the photo towards him with a flourish- “my adorable brother Sam in the most stylish of hats-” Dean’s finger tapped the photo for emphasis- “to hide his balding self from his prom date.”

“I hate you.”

Dean chuckled again, turning the photo back to his viewpoint, “Hey, you started that one, Sammy. Had it coming.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I put glitter in the vents of your car. I don’t think that merited ruining the social standing of my life in high school.”

Dean glanced up, “It was my car, Sam.”

“I had to wear a fedora I found at the Salvation Army, and then a beanie in ninety degree weather the rest of the year. People kept asking if I had cancer.”

Dean snorted and went back to flipping through the album. Sam leaned back in his chair with a sigh, his mind starting to wander amongst all the details of that year.

“Hey... do you remember Mrs. Ambrose?”

Dean looked up slowly, his eyes narrowing, “The old lady that lived a few streets over from our apartment complex? Not really.”

“She wasn’t old, Dean. She was actually probably the same age you are now,” Sam added, a glint in his eye.

Dean let out a hmmmpff, “I remember you being over there more than you were with us most days after school.”

Sam remembered that, too. How she used to help him with his homework, how she convinced him to stay for dinner almost every night, made him lunches for school the next day. How she let him talk about things he was too embarrassed to discuss with Dean, like girls and fears of moving again and how he didn’t want to be a part of their family business when he graduated, all while she knitted in her worn arm chair, nodding alongside his words and offering her insights when she could. He remembered taking her labrador retriever, Macey, for walks and helping her mow her lawn. He remembered her sharing story after story about her daughter, who had just left for college that year, studying at Stanford. And, most importantly...

“You know, she offered to let me live with her.”

Dean visibly froze, halfway through turning a page of the photo album. He closed the cover instead and slowly sat it back down on the table. “She what?”

“Yeah. She said that she wanted to give me somewhere to stay my senior year so I didn’t have to change schools again.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s tone was short now, almost sharp. “And you actually-”

“No!” Sam interjected. He swallowed, rubbed the palm of his hand. “Well...okay, maybe I did consider it. But I knew it could never happen. I knew Dad would never-”

“So you wanted to,” Dean deadpanned back. Sam couldn’t quite read the look on his face - maybe angry, maybe sad, more likely a mixture of both.

Sam sighed, “That was so long ago, Dean. Why does it even matter now?”

Dean shrugged, “You brought it up, so it obviously matters to you.”

A silence stretched across the room, neither brother saying anything. Sam finally reached out across the table and slid the photo album closer to himself, opening the cracked pages and rifling through them until he found a photo he wanted - him and Dean with wide smiles on their faces, holding a sled bound together with copious amounts of duct tape at the top of a snowy hill.

“Do you remember that Christmas?”

Dean’s eyes flitted to the photo, “You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m not-” Sam sighed exasperatedly- “just... do you remember it? How we found that sled in the dumpster and you ‘fixed’ it for us?”

“Hey, don’t finger quote my ‘fixing’. It worked great.”

Sam let out a short laugh, “Dean, it splintered into at least five pieces on the way down that hill.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turned up, “Yeah... but it was a hell of a ride.”

Sam nodded slowly in agreement and slid the photo album back to Dean. “You’ve done stuff like that for me my whole life, always looked out for me, even if it was you who got us into the mess in the first place.”

“So why bring up Mrs. Ambrose?”

Sam’s brow furrowed, thinking through how to best articulate his next thoughts. “She... For that short time, it was like I had a mom. Someone to make sure I did my homework and ask me about how my day at school had gone. I don’t know, Dean... I wanted that. I felt cheated from that part of life for so long, and someone was suddenly there, offering it to me with no strings attached.”

Dean nodded, silently listening.

“But... I couldn’t do it. I never could have left you and Dad. Not just because Dad would never have let me leave, but because I knew it was almost summer, and you’d promised to take me on a road trip to see the Spy Museum in D.C..”

“You always were a nerd.”

“We both know you wanted to see the gadgets as badly as I did.”

Dean smiled, “Yeah, maybe. We never ended up making it, though.”

Sam’s jaw clenched sightly, “The case in Saratoga.”

“Yeah. Nasty one.”

Sam nodded and shifted his weight in the chair. “I think... I think that was when I decided to try to make it to college. To Stanford, like Mrs. Ambrose’s daughter had.”

"Huh.”

“Do you still hate me for going?”

Dean looked up sharply, his eyes meeting Sam’s. “Hate you? Sam, I never hated you.” Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean sighed, “Okay, maybe for a week or two I did. But I think something always told me you’d come back, and until then... I knew you were happy.”

“And here we are,” Sam continued, “living in an underground bunker, three friends to our name, have started and stopped the end of the world more times than the average guy. We’ve traveled all across the country and back to pick up cases, we’ve flown on cursed airplanes and even went on that boat that one time to-”

“Hey,” Dean cut in, “we promised to never mention that again.”

Sam huffed air out his nose in amusement, but let the topic pass. “Hell, Dean, we’ve been to Heaven and Hell, Purgatory and other dimensions of this world. And, after all these years, we still haven’t been to the Spy Museum.”

He’s smiling when he says it, his voice lighthearted, but he can tell by the look on Dean’s face that he needs to say more.

“Dean, you know I wouldn’t trade what we’ve done, what we’ve accomplished, for anything. We’ve come too far to think like that anymore.”

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, “Not even for a full head of hair your junior year?”

Sam laughed, rich and hearty, “That is a strong contender.” He reached out and placed his hand firmly on Dean’s forearm. “But no, man. We’re brothers - together, ‘till the end.”

He let his hand rest there for a few moments, giving a small squeeze of reassurance before he got up to leave. His fingers found the photo album, lightly touching the brown leather. “Glad you found this.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “me too.”

He waited for Sam to exit the room before he found and opened his laptop, quickly navigating to the website for the International Spy Museum.

Tickets: $26.

He smiled as he bought two for the week of May 2nd.

___________________________________

My Forever Lovelies: @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda @ruprecht0420 @arryn-nyxx @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-naturall @aiaranradnay @percywinchester27 @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke @escabell @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @deanssweetheart23 @oneshoeshort @claire-of-the-country @keelzy2 @angelsandwinchesters @findingfitnessforme @luulaachops @tas898 @221b-cfordwrites @keepcalmandcarryondean @ravengirl94 @hollygopossumlovesj2 @hennessy0274-blog @mickey-m399 @autopistaaningunaparte @fandomismyspirit @anticipate1003 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @boxywrites @sylverminx @watermelonfruitsalad @darthdeziewok @amionthetumbler @smalltowndivaj @supernatural-girl97 @sujuvixxo @imgetting2old4diss @karlilarki @amanda-teaches @impala-dreamer @kristaparadowski @dancingalone21 @mjdoc90 @jeanjeaniethings @ja9erz @masksandtruths @wildlandfox @deanandcassiefan @sandlee44 @obsessivecompulsivespn @poukothenerd @michellethetvaddict @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @blackcherrywhiskey @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @fanfreak07 @cassieraider @there-must-be-a-lock @oh-balls-you-idjits @speakinvain @ellen-reincarnated1967 @atc74 @yourvoiceislikearose @superwholockmarauder @copperseraphim @mouselovesmusic @petra-arkanian-1497 @kornerstone234 @spnbaby-67 @wickidlady @dapresidentsshoelaces @claitynroberts @amythyststorm33 @sleepless-sin @hunterswearingplaid @andkatiethings @waywardrose13 @salt-n-burn-em-all @deansenwackles @calaofnoldor @imsuperawkward

#till the end #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester brothers #brothers to the end

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cyberkevvideo · 4 years

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My Changes to “Way of the Wicked“, Extras 3: Extraplanar Hunters

I kind of had the first one in the back of my mind for a while, but always forgot to put it down on paper, but thanks to vlogger Dungeon Dad converting a bunch of old 3.5 and Pathfinder 1e monsters to 5e, I was reminded that these creatures were very different in 3.5 compared to Pathfinder, and why I had originally considering at least the inevitable for this adventure path.

As always, for space reasons, I’ll be cropping the encounter build.

I do not have a Patreon or a Kickstarter, but I do have a Ko-Fi page (linked) for those who would like to support my work. There is no pressure or obligation to do so, however, but a like and a share would definitely be appreciated. Of this and my older work.

Just before get to it, I hope everyone’s staying safe right now.

There are three sets of stats this time around, and two of them are actually one NPC; a hound archon and his dragon mount. More on that later, including a description regarding how the concept exists. This is what I was talking in the last entry regarding this being something that was skipped over in the Pathfinder bestiary from its 3.5 version.

I’ll say for starters, I didn’t give the NPCs any traits. Those are for PCs, more often than not, but admittedly that was a staple of Gary’s builds to try make the NPCs able to stand up to the villains more. It also felt like an in-joke that the NPCs were the heroic PCs all along. If you want to give them one trait, that’s fine, but for these ones, I didn’t feel it was overly necessary to do so. The only one I even considered was the hound archon, and only to give him armor expert to negate the final armor check penalty to skills.

For starters, inevitables are the very definition of law. Each one has a specific mandate for how things should or shouldn’t be, and how everything interacts with the multiverse.

For starters, we have a zelekhuts are defined as “ bounty hunters and executioners all rolled into one.” The PCs were supposed to die or at least be judged and sent to the salt mines. They escaped. That needs to be rectified. By all means, you can use the standard CR 9 version and have it appear during Book 2, but mine is slightly different. More so because in Book 2, unless you’re doing this incredibly early, the villains may have already amassed a literal army, if only undead. A CR 9 inevitable isn’t going to cut it. My version would appear much later, and it’s also a little different from your regular zelekhut.

I’ll say now, that the reason Judiceye is a variant is because most zelekhuts would just arrive and rain down lawful smiting on their chosen to die. But this one is more crafty. Mitra has seen what the villains can do, and how devious they are, not to mention how large their ever growing army has become. This particular zelekhut’s duty is to show up at the end of Book 3, during the winter months, free any and all prisoners as best as it can, and cause in-fighting among the bugbears and other riffraff that have joined the 9th Knot. If it can take out some unwanted undead, all the better. The PCs are supposed to lose a portion of their troops at the end of winter anyhow due to them running away and leaving their minions high and dry, so this just furthers that plot line all the while putting the PCs on edge. There’s either a traitor among them or maybe the villains just can’t control their people, showing just how unfit they are. And if they start executing their own men for not listening when it’s really just the zelekhut? All the better to use as kindling to create riots and arguments, and really give the villains a run for their money. It’d make for a long winter indeed. And right before the king shows up, or whenever the time is right in the GM’s mind, and the Knot is near their breaking point (possibly when there’s the most confusion), the zelekhut can start a major brawl and try its luck in taking out the PCs. Even better, with its greater hat of disguise, it can change itself to look like whomever it needs to. Just needs Intel first. It can be a PC, a bugbear, a vampire, the medusa half-fiend, or whoever. Doesn’t matter. Because it start a fight, then leave, and turn into someone else. Whatever needs to be done to take down the PCs.

I will not that the DD for the elemental combat style is from the Pathfinder Disciple's Doctrine. Normally I would go OGL and Core, but this time I need some extra damage, and this was about the only way to pull it off. Also, the reason the hat’s trapped is because these things aren’t supposed to normally have treasure. This will destroy the treasure and maybe do some damage to the PCs at the same time.

JUDICEYE (CR 16; XP 76,800) Variant advanced zelekhut ranger (guildbreakerUI) 7 LN Large outsider (extraplanar, inevitable, lawful) Init +11; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, true seeing; Perception +25 DEFENSE AC 31, touch 17, flat-footed 23 (+1 armor, +7 Dex, +1 dodge, +13 natural, –1 size) hp 236 (21d10+121); regeneration 5 (chaotic) Fort +18, Ref +16, Will +15 Defensive Abilities constructed; DR 10/chaotic, DR 3/— (small ranged piercing weapons); SR 27 OFFENSE Speed 50 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee 2 chains +31 (3d6+10/19–20 plus 1d6 electricity and trip) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks favored enemy (goblinoids +2), favored organization (Knots of Asmodeus +4) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 14th; concentration +18) Constant—true seeing At will—clairaudience/clairvoyance, dimensional anchor, dispel magic, fear (W-DC 18), hold person (W-DC 17), locate creature 3/day—hold monster (W-DC 19), mark of justice 1/week—lesser geas (W-DC 17) Ranger Spells Prepared (CL 4th; concentration +8) 2nd—chameleon stride 1st—lead blades, resist energy STATISTICS Str 30, Dex 24, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 18 Base Atk +21; CMB +32; CMD 50 (54 vs. trip) Feats Combat Reflexes, Dodge, EnduranceB, Improved Critical (chains), Improved Initiative, Improved Natural Attack (chains), Improved Vital Strike, Inner FlameARG, Mobility, Power Attack, Scorching WeaponsARG, Step Up, Weapon Focus (chain), Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +25 (+33 jump), Bluff +15, Disguise +15, Diplomacy +17, Fly +19, Knowledge (local) +10, Knowledge (planes) +13, Perception +25, Sense Motive +21, Spellcraft +11, Stealth +21, Survival +17; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +4 Sense Motive Languages truespeech SQ chains, combat style (elementalDD), crowd stride, deep cover, favored terrain (urban +2), read the cityUI, track +3 Gear quilted clothUE, greater hat of disguise (trapped: maximized fireball; 60 fire damage, R-DC 19) SPECIAL ABILITIES Chains (Ex) A zelekhut’s arms end in long lengths of barbed metal. These chains deal slashing damage and 1d6 points of electricity damage with each hit. Constructed (Ex) Although inevitables are living outsiders, their bodies are constructed of physical components, and in many ways they function as constructs. For the purposes of effects targeting creatures by type (such as a ranger’s favored enemy and bane weapons), inevitables count as both outsiders and constructs. They are immune to death effects, disease, mind-affecting effects, necromancy effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stun, and any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects, or is harmless). Inevitables are not subject to nonlethal damage, ability damage, ability drain, fatigue, exhaustion, or energy drain. They are not at risk of death from massive damage. They have bonus hit points as constructs of their size.

Catching up on a few posts from GMs and players who are going through “Way of the Wicked”, most groups are having no issue whatsoever with the AP because they have a necromancer and a cleric who are creating epic armies of undead. That said, there have been one or two groups that have found themselves struggling, if only because they never rescued Grumblejack, or he died on them back during Branderscar because they all bailed and abandoned the ogre. As such, they’re finding that as the game is progressing, they’re having issues. I’ve got something to help potentially counteract that, if only for one part of the book.

It’s a Book 5 add-on that I thought of. Marut inevitables go after those who artificially extend their life. Namely, lichdom. Now, depending on the PCs, this could be yet another encounter for them too. If they’re using the feat tree that turns them into a vampire or lich, or they all became vampires in the alternate version of the story where Thorn’s a vampire, this thing’s coming after them. There’s just no way around that. However, my initial thought for this, so as to help parties that are having troubles, is the marut came to take down the now ex-Cardinal Thorn, but was dominated and sent after the party. This encounter would take place on the main floor, probably as soon as the PCs entered the cathedral. If the PCs have the means, they could break the control and have it join them in the final battle against Thorn. But you’re asking, “how can Thorn use that spell? It’s not a cleric spell and it’s 9th level.” It’s also a 6th level summoner spell, so miracle would work to cast it. This would reduce Thorn’s 9th level spells by 1, and hopefully that’s enough for the PCs who are struggling. After that though, the marut would leave, its mission completed.

Finally, my last inevitable add-on, and this would be for whenever someone in the party broke a contract (or someone attached to the party, etc). It can even be someone the party is dealing with, who broke a contract, and they summon one to go after that person/creature. The kolyarut is all about negotiating bargains, and they don’t like it when contracts and negotiations break down. They punish all oath-breakers. As stated: “They care little for the terms of the agreements in question, only that promises are fulfilled, debts are paid, and balance is maintained.“ They are definitely someone that the PCs want on their side. Pit fiends and contract devils are great, but they don’t necessarily like to get their hands dirty. They just want souls and payment. Kolyaruts, on the other hand, will always make the time.

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And now, the ultimate combo that’s just bonkers. I even did a small feat sink on this one despite it actually being something in the original edition that happens for free, and just adds to the CR.

As for where you would encounter this one, there’s any number of ways. 1) Could be a fight not long after they finish Book 3. Mitra might send the archon as an avenger for what happened. 2) Could right after Spring arrives and the villains are fleeing from the king and his army. This could either be an air battle or the very second they land, but before Tiadora arrives. 3) They could arrive with any other encounter, boosting the over all combat and aiding whomever else decides to attack the villains. You could even hold out until Book 6 with this one, if you really wanted to.

The monster info on this variant hound archon reads as thus:

Hound Archon Hero Mounts

In the course of their adventures, many hound archon heroes befriend bronze dragons, which may come to serve as their mounts. The relationship between these mounts and their celestial riders goes beyond even the special bond between paladin and mount. The dragon and the archon are naturally allies and friends, as can be expected of two powerful servants of cosmic justice. The juvenile bronze dragon mount gains 2 additional HD, 4 points of Strength, an additional 4 points of natural armor, improved evasion, and +10 feet to speed in all its movement forms. The dragon cannot, however, command other creatures of its type as other kinds of paladin mounts can.

Note: Under normal circumstances the Draconic Companion from the Dragon Companion Handbook would give you a dragon and have it go up as an animal companion, with the Dragon Companion Mastery feat giving you their full power. Hound Archon Heroes already get an equivalent ability for free so I’m revising the feat to instead give: frightful presence 1/day, +2 Dex instead of +2 Str (which is a swap option you can choose), SR 5 + paladin level, share spells, empathic link, and two of the four bonus dragon feats. However, I’m ignoring the other two bonus feats the dragon would normally gain, additional bonuses to Str/Con/natural armor, and standard ability score increases every 4 Hit Die. The trade off being that a standard bronze dragon has higher mental stats and spells, so it easily balances out.

Overall, this not all that different from the 3.5 Monster Manual version, and should be considered a difficult CR 16 encounter. Also, their wealth is for a CR 16 NPC. Bartel shares it with his dragon mount.

BARTEL, THE HOUND ARCHON HERO (CR 16; XP 76,800) Male Advanced variant hound archon paladin 11 LG Medium outsider (archon, extraplanar, good, lawful) Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect evil, low-light vision, scent; Perception +18 Aura courage (10 ft.), justice (10 ft.), menace (20 ft.; W-DC 21), magic circle against evil, resolve (10 ft.) DEFENSE AC 33, touch 12, flat-footed 31 (+9 armor, +2 Dex, +12 natural); +2 deflection vs. evil hp 229 (19 HD; 19d10+125) Fort +24, Ref +16, Will +21; +4 vs. poison, +2 resistance vs. evil DR 10/evil; Immune charm, disease, electricity, fear, petrification; SR 27 OFFENSE Speed 40 ft. Melee +2 cold iron greatsword +29/+24/+19/+14 (2d6+12/17–20), bite +22 (1d8+4) or bite +27 (1d8+8), slam +27 (1d4+4) Special Attacks channel energy (W-DC 20, 6d6), smite evil 4/day (+5 atk & AC, +11 dmg) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 6th; concentration +11) Constant—detect evil, magic circle against evil At will—aid, continual flame, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. of objects only), message Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 11th; concentration +16) At will—detect evil Paladin Spells Prepared (CL 8th; concentration +13) 3rd—heal mount 2nd—bull’s strength, eagle’s splendor, resist energy 1st—divine favor, hero’s defianceAPG, protection from evil, shield of fortificationACG STATISTICS Str 24, Dex 14, Con 22, Int 12, Wis 20, Cha 20 Base Atk +19; CMB +26; CMD 38; +2 vs. evil Feats Blind-Fight, Draconic CompanionDCH, Improved Critical (greatsword), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-by Attack, Weapon Focus (greatsword), Word of HealingUM Skills Acrobatics +14, Diplomacy +19, Knowledge (arcana) +12, Intimidate +15, Perception +18, Ride +18, Sense Motive +19, Spellcraft +10, Stealth +14, Survival +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Stealth, +4 Survival; ACP –1 Languages Celestial, Draconic, Infernal; truespeech SQ aura (overwhelming good), code of conduct, change shape (beast shape II), divine bond (dragon mount; Arlakaida), lay on hands (5d6, 7/day), mercies (cursed, dazed, fatigued) Combat Gear wand of cure light wounds (15 charges), holy water (2); Other Gear +3 mithral breastplate, +2 cold iron greatsword, amulet of mighty fists +1, belt of mighty constitution +2 SPECIAL ABILITIES Aura of Menace (Su) A righteous aura surrounds archons that fight or get angry. Any hostile creature within a 20-foot radius of an archon must succeed on a Will save to resist its effects. The save DC varies with the type of archon, is Charisma-based, and includes a +2 racial bonus. Those who fail take a –2 penalty on attacks, AC, and saves for 24 hours or until they successfully hit the archon that generated the aura. A creature that has resisted or broken the effect cannot be affected again by the same archon’s aura for 24 hours. Change Shape (Su) A hound archon can assume any canine form of Small to Large size, as if using beast shape II. While in canine form, the hound archon loses its bite, slam, and greatsword attacks, but gains the bite attack of the form it chooses. For the purposes of this ability, canines include any dog-like or wolf-like creature of the animal type.

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ARLAKAIDA THE BRONZE (CR —; XP —) Female juvenile bronze dragon LG Large dragon (water) Init +6; Senses dragon senses; Perception +25 Aura frightful presence 1/day (90 ft.; targets are shaken for 14 rounds; W-DC 21) DEFENSE AC 36, touch 13, flat-footed 33 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +2 deflection, +18 natural, –1 size) hp 161 (14d12+70) Fort +16, Ref +13, Will +15 Defensive Abilities improved evasion; Immune electricity, paralysis, sleep; SR 16 OFFENSE Speed 50 ft., fly 130 ft. (poor), swim 60 ft. Melee bite +25 (2d6+15), 2 claws +24 (1d8+11), tail slap +22 (1d8+15), 2 wings +22 (1d6+6) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with bite) Special Attacks breath weapon (80-ft. line, R-DC 24, 12d6 electricity), repulsion breath Spell-Like Abilities (CL 14th; concentration +18) At will—create food and water, speak with animals Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 4th; concentration +8) 2nd (4/day)—mirror image 1st (7/day)—alarm, obscuring mist, true strike 0 (at will)—detect magic, light, mage hand, message, prestidigitation, resistance STATISTICS Str 29, Dex 14, Con 21, Int 18, Wis 19, Cha 18 Base Atk +14; CMB +26; CMD 40 (44 vs. trip) Feats Ability Focus (breath weapon), Alertness, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Powerful BreathB, Quick Breath WeaponB, Vital Strike, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Diplomacy +19, Fly +12, Handle Animal +16, Heal +16, Intimidate +19, Knowledge (arcana) +19, Perception +25, Sense Motive +25, Spellcraft +20, Stealth +14, Swim +29; Racial Modifiers +8 Swim Languages Aquan, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome SQ empathic link, change shape (animal or humanoid, polymorph), share spells, water breathing, wave mastery (40 mins) Gear +2 studded leather barding, amulet of mighty fists +2, belt of physical perfection +2, cloak of resistance +2, ring of protection +2 SPECIAL ABILITIES Dragon Senses (Ex) Dragons have darkvision 120 ft. and blindsense 60 ft. They see four times as well as a human in dim light and twice as well in normal light. Frightful Presence (Ex) This special quality makes a dragon’s very presence unsettling to foes. Activating this ability is a free action that is usually part of an attack or charge. This ability affects only opponents with fewer Hit Dice than the dragon’s. An opponent that succeeds on its saving throw is immune to the dragon’s frightful presence for 24 hours. Multiple uses of a dragon’s presence don’t stack. This ability is a mind-affecting aura. Paladin Mount (Ex) Arlakaida cannot command other creatures of its type (bronze dragons) as other kinds of paladin mounts can. Quick Breath Weapon (Ex) Arlakaida is able to unleash her breath weapon and deliver an attack before her opponent is the wiser. On her turn, Arlakaida can choose to use her breath weapon in place of her bite or one of her claw attacks. Repulsion Breath (Su) Instead of a line of electricity, a bronze dragon can breathe a cone of repulsion gas. Targets must make a Will save or be compelled to do nothing but move away from the dragon for 1d6 rounds plus 1 round per age category. This is a mind-affecting compulsion effect. Water Breathing (Ex) A bronze dragon breathes water and can use its breath weapon, spells, and abilities underwater. Wave Mastery (Su) For up to 10 minutes per age category per day, a juvenile bronze dragon, along with creatures or vessels within 50 feet, can move at twice its normal speed in water. ------------------------------------------------------------

And that’s everything. I don’t know that I’ll ever have more to add to this particular adventure path, but maybe I will. Just depends on how inspired I get.

In the meantime, I hope everyone who is running or playing “Way of the Wicked” is having a fantastic time.

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kristallioness · 4 years

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2016 | 2017 | 2018

*quietly sneaks back in*... Happy New THIS Year, my dear followers! In Estonia, we have this saying that if you wish someone a 'happy new year' after Three Kings' Day (the 6th of January), you gotta have a bottle of alcohol with you and give them a drink. *lol*

Anyways, I would like to apologize for the sudden disappearance that happened prior to Christmas. I was just busy travelling back home for the holidays, unpacking and putting away my stuff, watching some great, traditional movies or shows on TV, and most importantly, working on those 2 latest masterpieces that I posted (which barely got 30 notes each.. *sigh*).

But as you can (and probably will) see, the year of the yellow earth pig (i.e. my dad's year) was a rollercoaster of emotions and accomplishments, or lacking thereof.

My creative side seems to have suffered the most due to lack of leisure time. I only managed to finish 3 full digital drawings and left behind several sketches or unfinished WIPs (2 of which are revealed here under the months of June and November for the first time, I intend to finish the Korrasami one btw). At least I got to start 2020 with a completed drawing on the very 1st day, ha-ha! Perhaps that's a good omen for this year?

If so, then I hope I'll find the time to finish the rest of the 2019 Inktober prompts, since I only did 4/31 this past October (even though I'd thought of ideas for all of them). I brought all the necessary drawing utensils and sheets of paper with me, so whenever I'm in the mood, I'll try to sketch another one.

*calculates for the nth time*.. I wrote 18,110 words worth of fanfiction, plus 820 words for the UYLD prompts (making the total 18,930). Technically, you can count another 8k+ in there, since it comes from that unfinished story (of Aang taking care of a flu-ridden Katara, as illustrated by the September sketch), which I haven't finished within the last 4 months or so. Plus, I barely wrote 1/5 of the amount compared to 2018.. *hides in shame*

Then again, I was an excellent pupil for picking up an actual book and reading through 150+ pages (which means I have ~300 pages to go). I'm talking about the new Kyoshi novel that came out. As I once said, I haven't voluntarily read a book in years make that 2 years ago (most of the reading I've done in my life is either Tom & Jerry comics, now the Avatar comic trilogies and art books as well as fanfiction online, or compulsory reading during school). But this novel is freaking fantastic superb!

Not only that, I bought all the new comic trilogies and managed to read them through. Damn, did they give me feels.. especially "Ruins of the Empire" (ngl I squeed so hard when I saw the Korrasami farewell kiss on the 1st page of the 2nd part). I can't wait to read the 3rd part this year!

However, I failed to rewatch Avatar last year, and I haven't seen Korra since.. 2016, I believe? Wow, that's 4 whole years.. But I intend to fix that mistake starting from 2020. Hopefully I'm in the mood to start my rewatch this weekend tonight. *fingers crossed*

But as I said, I had much less time to focus on my hobbies since 2019 was the year for finally moving on with my life (sort of, I'm still working on it). I still remember how down I'd been feeling for a while and how valid those emotions really were. The first quarter of the year (+ like a month or two) was a continuous descent into desperation and feelings of utter failure, which already started around the 2nd half of 2018 and only continued to deepen around that time.

Everything began to change when I was first chosen to be part of a 2-month summer internship in an IT company, and I had to start building a new nest in a new location in Tallinn this May. And now, I feel like I've hit the jackpot by getting a permanent job in another IT company this October.

I got the opportunity to work in two different fields, in two different teams within a year. I met some awesome colleagues (a lot of whom are foreigners) and got the chance to really put my English skills to the test.

Thanks to the new job, I also had to go to a free health check, which went really-really well. Despite my nervousness in the beginning, I feel much more relaxed about my physical (and mental) health, cause the results showed that everything's okay (something I'd been worried about since March 2017).

Speaking of health or staying healthy, there were a few sports events that I went to, too. Our team held the first winter team event (it was the first one for me, at least) by going to do archery in a range on the outskirts of the capital.

I watched the football match between 2 teams of our local league at my hometown together with my dad on his birthday. Our home team won the match and came in 4th place overall in the league this year, which is their best result so far (I'm really proud!). And merely days before I started work, I visited the Tallinn International Horse Show for the first time (also with my dad). I last got to watch horses jump over fences or dance to their musical programs ~ 10 years ago, and I loved it!

Event-wise 2019 was pretty full of them. As has become tradition, I went to the Defence Forces parade on our 101st Independence Day (which seemed rather bleak compared to the centennial, even more so since we didn't have ANY snow at the time).

What will hopefully become new traditions, I visited the television tower on the Restoration of Independence Day (where Uku Suviste gave a free concert in the evening), and went to the Veteran's Rock concert (to honour our war veterans) on our Freedom Square on the 23rd of April (since I'm residing in the capital now, I should be able to go again this year).

To continue with the centennial celebrations (yes, some things are STILL turning 100), I saw and explored inside the armoured train no. 7 called "Wabadus" ("Freedom") in the Baltic Station. This armoured train was one of the keys that led our country to victory during the War of Independence from 1918-1920.

There was an even bigger (150th) anniversary to celebrate in the beginning of July, when I attended our Song and Dance Festival. This was a really important, if not the biggest event of the year. I intend to make a longer post about my experience, cause it's something that you foreigners need to see for yourself. I can't simply describe or put it into words, I have to show you some videos and photos.

But while we're on the topic of concerts, I should mention that I went to 2 more at the beginning of June - Bon Jovi and Sting - as well as 2 that were part of Christmas tours in December - Elina Nechayeva and Rolf Roosalu.

Besides that, I went to 6 different festivals, half of which I'd been to several times before, such as the Türi Flower Fair, Jäneda Farm Days (where I went on my first helicopter ride for my 25th birthday present) and the Christmas market in the Old Town of Tallinn.

The other half is comprised of festivals that I'd been considering going to for a while, or which took place for the first time. The latter applies to the Black Food Festival, whereas the "Valgus Kõnnib" ("Wandering Lights") and the duck rally, both of which took place in Kadriorg, fall under the first category.

The duck rally is a charity event held in the beginning of June. Regular people can buy at least one (or several) rubber bath duckies for different prices, which will then be dumped into a tiny stream that'll carry them towards the finish line. This event has grown more popular each year, and the money the Estonian Association of Parents of Children with Cancer (sorry, long name in English!) collects is donated to the Cancer Treatment Fund.

*wipes forehead*.. Phew! I'm surprised, that's a whole lotta positivity for 2019. I think there's one more important, but seriously negative topic I haven't covered yet, but I feel should be mentioned and explained.

When it comes to politics, 2019 was a complete disaster for us. EKRE (Eesti Konservatiivne Rahvaerakond in Estonian, or Estonia's Conservative People's Party in English) i.e. our populist/nazi/pro-Trump party is in the government as of April 2019, thanks to 100,000+ idiots (out of our population of 1.3 million) who voted for them and gave them 19/101 seats in the Parliament.

No, I am NOT going to apologize for calling them a nazi party, because their main leaders have repeatedly supported ideology that's common to nazis (they use aggressive rhetoric, blame the media for making them look bad, downgrade women, minorities, are racist, anti-semitic etc...). And I will not apologize in front of the people who voted for them, because "thanks" to this, EKRE has dragged our country's reputation straight through a mud puddle (not to mention the scandals that have accompanied 5 of their ministers, 3 of who have THANKFULLY stepped down from their positions) and.. *swears like the British*.. it's BLOODY EMBARRASSING.

I am done being nice, I have at least some kind of prejudice about anyone who supports them or their ideals. And I will certainly not let Estonia end up like America. So that is why I participated in two protest events against EKRE and our current government (because the 2 other parties, who were willing to form the coalition with them, are spineless jellyfish that simply seek to hold onto their current positions of power). I'm willing to take bets as to when our government falls (the sooner the better).

*shakes off the frustration*.. Brrr! So besides that, I guess the only downside to 2019 was my spare time falling back in the list of priorities (which shows in the empty square of July).

2020 is gonna be the year of the white metal rat. I can only hope (and take action so) that it'll be just as eventful, and much more creative than 2019. Thank you all for following me (or lurking anonymously) for so long, especially to the bloggers who've offered me support through better or worse! *raises a glass* Here's to 2020!.. *sip*

#personal #shards of Kristal

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megamanxfanfics · 4 years

Text

The Hiatus

I’ve been dreading the idea of writing this, but the fact that I am at all means that I’m coming out of my funk and am looking onward towards moving ahead, and hopefully forward, once again with this project in the future. I’m afraid I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Wouldn’t you know it? Life got in the way again.

It seems that every new Writing Season, something always happens to me to shift things around and make it near-impossible towards writing Mega Man X. I’ve been mulling over how to talk about all of this without getting too personal on an MMX blog. But the fact is that what happened to me is very personal. And very complicated. So I’m gonna just go for it, while keeping it in simplest terms.

I broke up with my girlfriend last month. Which means I had to move out...

I can say that with dry eyes now, and without a heavy heart. It was a smooth break. Very mutual. We both knew it needed to happen, because we weren’t happy at all. (Always doing our own thing, making separate plans... etc. etc. etc.)

But back to this.

I recall back in November I had posted a Writing Exercise - What X Remembers, in an attempt to kick-start my motivation for this project. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I can tell you right now that I wasn’t exactly busy. I was burnt out.

Yes, I’ve been wanting and wanting to start this thing, but in the planning phases, I’ve also been afraid of it. Because I don’t want to mess this up. Or it’s too confusing, or disjointed. And I know how I get. I harp and harp on things until it’s perfect, or feels good enough to present. And... frankly, I was in a position where things were so bad at home, that I just wanted to spend time with her to keep everyone happy.

I would also take advantage of ‘Me-Time Monday’ as I used to call it when she’d be out doing her own thing. Except my creative outlet for those days would be working on music, which is my first passion. I’ve taken on a massive project of adding vocals to a lot of old music I had written, and even now I’m maybe half-way through that. And there were definitely certain Mondays that I wasn’t even in the mood for music... I certainly wasn’t in the mood for X.

I was depressed... She was depressed... But why?

Well... this blog, isn’t exactly about that. But what I can tell you is that we were just going through this mundane routine every day. Even our weekends became routine. And neither of us were fun to be around any more. Even upon realizing it and trying to do different things. ‘Go out on a date, Dummy!’ That’s what I would tell myself. But even nice events didn’t work. She’d complain about being tired, or full or we wouldn’t talk at all. That... was the extent of our interactions. Outside of that, we’d just watch our shows, which would entertain us, and make us laugh. We’d hold hands and stuff, sometimes. But even then... it didn’t really feel romantic. As one friend put it best, “It sounds like a friendship...”

And we both realized that last month.

So you could say that from November-February, I had slowly been working at getting my motivation toward this project back up. Despite my daily toils, I was driven to bring myself to do the things that make me happy. I had even reread most of the Writing Diaries, all the way up to Season V again, which took me down a nice bit of Nostalgia Road. Reading about the Process of this Project is just as fun as reading the actual episodes for me. It’s the Journey, not the Destination, after all.

But like I said, then February happened and we just imploded. Everything immediately broke down. My living space, my comfort zone.. where I was going to be!! I didn’t know what to do.

In week 1 I took out the time to hang out with all of my closest friends. I told everyone who needed to know first.

In week 2, I started seriously looking for places. And that was equally exciting as it was exhausting. However, I did find one thing that wouldn’t be ready for the next 2 months! And that also freaked me out. Now I had a pseudo-time table on my hands, but it was a little too long.

In week 3, I cracked. We absolutely got into a fight in our shared space. Things were so smooth as friends and roommates. We had still shared our King Size Bed, and kept it completely civil, since nothing romantic was happening in the bedroom anyway... But, at some point, some Social Media Drama occurred and I actually started acting like an Ex. It was becoming very clear to me that living together any longer was going to destroy my Mental Health. So I made the choice to get out of there, sooner than anticipated. That Friday, I put a bag together and stayed at my parent’s house.

The original plan was to ride this out as long as possible and move into the 2nd Bedroom while I start to leisurely pack, as I keep looking for places. But instead, all this drama accelerated my schedule and forced me out of that house. That weekend, I came back to grab the rest of my clothes and relocate my TV back to my Parent’s house... Which takes me to week 4.

In week 4, I focused on helping my brother with an After-school play. I changed my work hours for him and everything, but on top of that, I had an unexpected interview which could’ve changed everything!!! You see, I’ve been looking for better jobs at the same time as looking for new places. And that’s what made this so stressful. That’s even partially what caused all this drama, because one night I tried complaining about it to her, and she didn’t really seem to care much. We were acting like exes to each other, and I really couldn’t handle it. So once we got into a fight, that was the wake up call. We’re not together anymore. We can’t do this any more! Literally. It was time to get out of there and move on. Well, the job interview wasn’t in the cards... but it’s for the best, because it would’ve made this new place that I’ve been hoping for, not make sense any more. That weekend, I got together all of my books/movies/games/comics, electronics, pictures, etc. etc. while she had put together boxes of the kitchenware I get to take. By Sunday Night, basically all of my stuff was out of there. I couldn’t believe it. It was very therapeutic and bittersweet.

This takes us to Week 5 - last week. The commotion has slowed down to an abrupt halt. I’ve been very tired. Technically I have all the time in the world for MMX now, but I’m just not there yet. And I probably won’t be for another month. And I say that now, because I’m literally in between places. All of my stuff is in boxes at my Parent’s house, but this other place that I saw is in the process of coming through. Their time table accelerated a little bit. I got news yesterday that the place has been painted, and that new carpets will be installed on 3/23. As I am basically move-in ready, but also really want this to be the place, I worked with my new Landlord and asked him if I can start to leave boxes this weekend.

And that’s what I did today. Today I left the first installation of boxes into that house’s basement. It will be the new location I call my home, and the best part about it is that it’s only 5 minutes from Work. That’s HUGE. [But that too is temporary, as I still need a better job.]. One day at a time though, right?

This is primarily the reason why I’m writing today. I feel that the brunt of this Transition Period has reached it’s Apex, and from here, it’s gonna be pretty smooth sailing into the next place, as I become acquainted with my New Normal of 2020.

I’m also writing, because admittedly, I have been thinking about MMX6 again, and rather than catch up with the rest of the diaries, I just read the last one. Where I actually regressed into plot points again and still couldn’t answer certain questions, like what those stupid teleport portals are. I mean, how much of an explanation do I really need? It’s Mega Science!

I’ll be honest. I could start tomorrow, and I’d probably feel pretty good about it, until I hit my first slump. Which will most likely be the Central Museum stage. And then I won’t want to do anything.

No, my heart’s just not in it yet. I don’t want to start MMX6 on my laptop. I want to be fully set up and Comfortable in my New Place when I start Season VI properly. The silver lining is that I have all the time in the world for this and my music, now. And I’ll have to feel out that situation too, because I desperately want to do both. And that’s part of the conflict too. Both projects literally interfere with each other, because I only have enough time and energy for one or the other on any given night.

Keep in mind, once I have my own place, everything’s on me. That’s cooking, dishes, laundry and of course self-care, right? So that involves the necessary shower, and of course entertaining yourself. And that means yes, actually pulling myself away from my hobbies that I tend to wrap myself in so much.

I’m not blaming this project for losing my girl, or my music. Hell, I’m not even blaming myself. We just weren’t a good fit for each other, but we sure tried to be. For 5 Years! There was a lot of good in those 5 years too. But she changed a lot. Me too. But her, more... In a less fun way. Very easy for me to say, of course.

These things happen. People change. And we truly made the healthiest choice to end it when we did. It was really just a logical conversation about what isn’t working, and both of us literally agreeing that this doesn’t make sense any more. My friend last night put it best. “I think your relationship just ran its course. You both saw it through to a complete end, and it was really good that you chose to end it when you did, because neither of you were happy any more...”

And there it is. I suppose I’m ending this on that note. One day I’ll be ready for MMX6 again. But today is not that day. And instead, I’ll be playing the MMZ/ZX Legacy Collection in the meantime. =P. And no. Don’t get any ideas. I have NO intention of writing an MMZ Anime.

#The Hiatus #Season VI Diaries #writing woes #inspiration failure #burn out #life

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