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queers-gambit · 9 months

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When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #dacre montgomery

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popponn · 5 months

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so what if mikage reo is running late and crashes to you—a culinary student, also late—on his rush. predictably, the coffee in his hand got spilled all over his expensive coat. unpredictably, you—a scholarship student too busy trying to survive—don't know how rich he actually is and automatically offer to compensate him somehow.

since washing his coat somehow will cost you ten times your rent while buying one is simply asking for a lifelong debt, you offer to him what you do best—your cooking for a full month. at first, reo really doesn't want it as he doesn't mind. also, stranger danger? but since you are adamant enough to even offer him "i will make it in front of you!" he ends up accepting it.

and somehow, as people say, a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. reo kind of falls in love a bit too hard and a bit too clumsily before he knows it. but hey, if the love of his life is offering him lunch with a full-blown smile maybe learning to be a proper domestic husband while juggling soccer and business is worth it.

#1:

"so, is it good?" you asked in the manner of a true excited cook.

reo wanted to say that he knew it would be good even before he put your food in his mouth. or say that even if you offer him to eat a marshmallow that is one fire he will still do it for you at this point. or maybe he really should just blurt out, "it is. please marry me and let me have your cooking for the rest of my life. i love you."

but, reo has his pride as your trusted food tester—so, with a wide grin that was objectively handsome if not a bit too full of love, reo answered, "very! guess, studying and testing all those spices really paid off, huh?"

#2:

"can you guys—" nagi paused, making a face as if he was tasting the words on his tongue, "—just get it together?"

you blinked. "uh? pardon?"

nagi didn't raise his head from his phone. "reo keeps looking at you like he wants to—"

"dude," chigiri interrupted, kicking nagi's leg visibly. nagi grunted, which chigiri ignored him in favor of offering you a nervous laugh instead. "sorry, reo kind of ruined his game yesterday. he kept grudges—"

"hey, reo kicked my head—"

chigiri immediately kicked nagi's shin hard enough that the table shook. you spared the white-haired male a pitying squint as you tried to not wince too much. you really should have gone to pick up the food with reo.

note: aka a post canon romcom au no plot no braincell just vibe of supportive x supportive. it's reo just falling in love with you who offer good food and good mental support. and hey this au entails classic "rich guy tries domestic mundane things he never even touch once" which of course would let to reo getting your guidance (while staring longing at you like a boy in love). at least this is reo, so through sheer power of natural learning capability and also love, he will do it right at the second or third time. oh, of course nagi and chigiri is there. chigiri wishes reo would stop bragging about your food and you if he isn't going to grow a bone and confess. nagi wishes reo would stop hitting him each time you send him an emoji or a praise—reo you are ruining his full combo. aka do you see idiot 1 & idiot 2? there is never too many idiots to lovers. might have went way too self indulgence thinking about this—"after bllk they still go to uni" this kind of thinking should tell you enough how many braincel is present here. but. uh yeah. "i want to support and comfort reo" is a feeling. anyway ok. thanks for reading this blurb i should be doing something else rn but 🫶 yeah have this. take this. love u.

#bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #reo fluff #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #ngl im also manifesting a culinary cutie rn so there is that. but im also manifesting actual mikage reo #but all in all the thought of two kind supportive people finding each other is a nice thought like “you deserves good things”#drabbles #drabble #maybe one day soon #blurbs

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petday · 3 months

Note

whats little magic?

It is a puzzle game for the Super Famicom and Game Boy Color video game systems. I like the Game Boy Color game much more for its art direction, and it's also just more fun for me to play with the 'bubble magic' mechanic in that version. I wrote more about my enjoyment below, in case anyone is curious.

The game’s box art is very beautiful, right? It caught my eye right away. The in-game 'cutscene' artwork appears to be carefully-made pixel art versions of the same artist's illustrations and they are similarly beautiful. (Sorry in advance if my photograph quality is not great.)

But the actual levels themselves look very haphazard. Clashing colors and tiles. It's easy enough to guess that a blue tile next to a white tile represents water and snow, respectively, but what does the yellow cluster-of-boxes tile represent? Yellow bricks of a tower…? How about the spike-y objects in the snow-water levels? I guessed they were underwater mines, but then there's the same tile in a later level too, just palette-swapped to be red… The two monochrome tiles in the third picture above teleports your character, but it has a two-frame animation that made me think of an ‘industrial grinder’ and ‘static noise’, so I assumed it was dangerous at first. Was it intended to be nondescript ‘sparkly magic’? Where are all of these levels taking place, anyway? No other humans are in these areas, just various animals and vague environmental indicators. There are cute snakes in some ‘yellow brick’ levels that end your life upon touching them. Seems irresponsible for a teacher to allow her student into perilous areas, no matter how eager she is to pass her final exam at magic school and become a magician.

Oh, I should explain the story. (None of the above photos are in sequence, just wanted to show more of the game.) The story is about a girl who attends magic school, and aims to pass a series of tests to become a full-fledged magician. Her teacher encourages her. The lack of explanation in the story is another fun point for me. Her magic teacher doesn't explain why 'learning magic' consists of pushing a heart into a heart-shaped hole that triggers a staircase to appear, which is what you need to do to complete each level. (It’s a beating heart – is it alive?) No explanation as to why snakes end your life instantly upon touching them. The context of 'because you want to pass your exams, a teacher is putting you through trials to help you become a master of magic’ isn’t an adequate explanation, because the teacher also tells you that she has not passed the final exam - why is a teacher putting a student through something that is too difficult even for herself? Who is in control of all of the strange areas you need to ‘complete’ in order to become a real magician, then? (After you complete the game with the student, you can play a different set of levels as the teacher, but even the usual sparse context-giving ‘cutscenes’ are not there… Mysterious…)

So, all of that is why my drawing about ‘Little Magic’ is about ‘confusion’, ‘going along with something that makes sense at first, but quickly unravels to not make sense any longer’, ‘growing distrust of authoritative figures’, and ‘frustration from stagnation.’ https://petday.tumblr.com/post/730315736066768896

Maybe the instruction booklet explains everything; I did not have access to that while playing, and I like that feeling. ‘Renting a game from a video game rental store that did not come with an instruction booklet, and being perplexed by it, forced to create your own context because you have nothing else’ feeling. Randomly selecting games to play that do not have much documentation online is enjoyable to me, because of that feeling.

A fan translation group translated the Game Boy Color game from Japanese to English in 2018. There wasn't a lot of dialogue in the first place, though. I like games where there is little to no dialogue because one can imagine a story/context besides what is shown. Up until 2022, I could not find a solution for the teacher’s final puzzle, so I interpreted the ending of the game’s story as, ‘The magic teacher thought she could harness a type of magic far stronger than what she could handle, accidentally designed an impossible puzzle for herself and is trapped for eternity.’ Of course, the puzzle has a solution, but I wanted to honour my strange interpretation regardless. When I play games and have weird interpretations of them, I am definitely not saying, 'I bet this is what the people who worked on this game were thinking!' I dislike that attitude. It's just imaginative interpretation, and working with the odd way I interact with things in order to maximize fun for myself…

A part about old games that I also love, is that they can never be updated; they had one chance to release a finished game, and maybe another chance to fix glitches in a re-release if they sold very many copies the first time. I greatly enjoyed the ‘imperfect’ tilesets and abrupt feeling of this game, which might have been ‘improved’ in a patch if it had been released in recent years instead of 1999.

(I wasn’t sure where to include this point, but I must also say, my favourite YouTube comments are about someone’s unusual interpretations of a game, when they did not have access to a guide at the time. I read one recently – the comment author and their brother rented ‘Final Fantasy IV’ from a rental store, and they did not know about the ‘Poison’ status effect that depletes the characters health. There is a strange pixelation effect and a ringing sound when you walk around the overworld while poisoned. Because the save file they were playing from was during a point of the game where you visit the moon, and because of the unfamiliar visual and sound effect, they interpreted the ‘Poison’ status effect as, “The moon must be running out of air.” Things like that are beautiful to me.)

(I also wasn’t sure where to put this point, but the main character, May, from ‘Little Magic’, is stylized differently in some ‘cutscenes’. She resembles a dragon to me. It’s cute.)

#long post

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13as07 · 4 months

Text

Motherhood

(Kakashi Hatake)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Garajiru]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

[Idea inspired by Criminal Minds - Garcia and Derek; Season 8, Episode 11]

Word Count: 3,979

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

———————————————————————

My whole body aches as I walk across the grassy field of the Third Training Ground. I'll never understand why Kakashi insists on training so far away from the main parts of the village. Well... I do understand. Despite how he comes off, he is a very sentimental person.

Pain sizzles across my rib cages, a side effect from littered stitches across my skin. I'm never going to hear the end of it when Kakashi finds out.

I should wait until he's done training with his students. I know he's a personal guy and I get it, especially with our line of work, but I want to see him. The burning need for him has been clawing at my heart for the past week. That burning only grew once the stab wounds registered in my head, and somehow became even heavier as needles were being threaded through me to close my wounds. He's going to be pissy or at least off his game when I find him, but that's okay. I know he'll smooth himself out.

As if the universe wants to apologize, a mix of 'why's', groans, and 'Sensei!'s fill the meadow. I can feel a smile perk up at the sounds.

I've heard a lot about my husband's little genins; Sasuke the Uchiha boy who shows great potential if he could get over his attitude, Naruto the chakra-packed spaz-ball who dreams of being Hokage, and Sakara the kunoichi with impressive chakra control who's just a little too distracted by Sasuke.

My smile only grows as the big blob of my husband and his three little blobs fall into my sight. The yellow and orange blob - I think that one is Naruto - is bobbing up and down. What a cute little jumping bean; well jumping blob.

Despite the burning across my sides, I hurry up my pace to get to Kakashi faster.

Once I can make out the details of my dotting husband, the burning in my heart starts cooling off. God, I miss him so much when we're apart. The seemingly unreachable retirement in our future sounds so good right now.

"Calm down, guys. It's just a progress exercise," Kashi's voice rings out, paired with the soft clinking of the bells wrapped around his belt loop. Before I left he mentioned redoing the bell test with his genins to check how they've improved. I guess today is the day.

"Oh, come on Kakashi-Sensei! Do you have to? We all know I'm already the best, do you really have to double-check it?" Blondie whines as he messes with his headband. That is definitely the spaz-ball.

"Being less sucky than Sakura doesn't make you the best," the raven-haired boy mumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Naruto.

Sasuke's eyes catch me for a second before he glances at his Sensei for guidance. Said Sensei hasn't caught wind of me yet, curtsy of his back being turned towards me with his students facing the both of us.

Sakura's face sinks at her crush's words before a closed-eyes smile crosses her face. "I think it'll be fun to do the bell exercise again, Sensei!" When her eyes snap open, they catch on me too, just like the Uchiha did a second ago. Unlike the boy though, her face scrunches up as she stays focused on me. "Sensei-"

I jump forward, arms wrapping around my husband. I immediately regret it when my stitches come into rough contact with Kakashi's vest. A pain-filled whine slips out as I bury my head between his shoulder blades. "That hurt," I whine again, softly digging my fingertips into his stomach.

"Then maybe don't do that," Kash teases, his smile slipping through his words.

My head lifts before falling back down, softly headbutting his back. "Don't be mean."

A soft chuckle fills the air, spilling out from my husband. The sound fills me with warm, the good love-filled kind instead of the longing kind of heat. "My little crybaby," he mumbles, shifting in my hold so my head is against his chest instead of his back. "Why are you being such a crybaby?"

"I'm not being a crybaby," I bite back but it comes out as a pout instead of the strong 'don't fuck with me' attitude I was trying to have.

"Aww, now you're being pouty," he continues to tease as his hands slide under my shirt.

Despite his teasing tone, everything else about Kakashi is serious. His hands are soft and nimble as he rubs them over my skin, checking for new wounds from my mission. His eye repeatedly scanning me, looking for obvious wounds and any sign of real distress.

"I might have had a not-so-perfect mission," I mumble, glancing behind him at his students. They're all looking at each other in confusion, hushed whispers - and Naruto's failing attempt at being quiet - being passed between them.

"What does that mean?" Kashi asks, his fingers light as he comes into contact with my wrappings.

It's taken some practice, but I can see the small cracks in his calm composure. His eyebrows are ever so slightly pushed forward, jaw locked almost unnoticeably under his mask, eye slightly wider than normal, and a drop of worry hidden in his words. From an outsider, he'd look as calm as ever, but not to me. I can see the storm brewing under it.

"I was stabbed a couple of times but it's not that big of the deal. No casualties and my squad came out less harmed than me, so over all a good mission."

Another slip of composer; his fingers stiffing a bit as he dips them under the bandages. "I can't believe you were stabbed," he whispers, face inching closer to me so I can pick up on the soft volume.

I feel bad about not being able to wait to see him. I know it's difficult for him to keep his composure when I'm hurt, and even more difficult when we're around people because he's worried his composure will slip.

"I got stabbed in my vest," I mumble back, wrapping my hands slightly around his arms before I stand up a bit straighter. I use the extra height to nuzzle myself against his cheek. "It's just a couple of stitches, I'm okay."

"Why don't they make better vests?" Kash mumbles to himself more than me, his focus on his hands as if he could see them through my shirt.

His breath has picked up too, fingers not so light as they cling to my wrappings. My poor anxiety-filled husband is getting into his head way too much. "They're not stabproof. It's like when your watch gets wet and stops working. That's water resistant not waterproof. They need to make our vests knife-proof. They should-"

"I... am... fine..." I breathe out, following each word with a kiss. First to his reviled eye, then to his cheek at the edge of his mask, and lastly, a light one against his masked lips.

"I know but-"

My hands dip further down his arms, tugging my shirt up gently so the edge of my bandages is exposed. "See? I'm fine?" I tease a bit, dipping my head behind his ear before pressing another soft kiss into him.

When I fall back into place, Kakashi's eye is dancing over the edge of my wrap, fingers lightly dancing over my skin again. A barely visible pink pokes out from his mask. My partner might be a very composed man, but he's still a man. One that falls victim to the shaping of my waist, especially when it's empathized by a skirt or crop top; or bandages in this case.

"It's just a couple of stitches," I repeat before dropping my hands back to my sides, my shirt following pursuit.

"How... how, um..." Kakashi's flustered state is adorable, the pink getting deeper and his eye still locked in please even though his favorite sight is gone. "How long do you need to be taped up like this?"

"I don't know. A couple of days maybe," I answer, letting my own eyes wander over him. I'm as pleased to look over Kashi's body as he is to look over mine; though his v-line is my favorite part. A soft hum comes from him, his body going back to his actual calmness instead of his fake composure. "You relaxed now?" I tease, pulling away from his touch.

"Ya, I'm relaxed now," he husks out, stepping forward in a slow attempt to chase me.

"Sensei!" All three of his students call, pulling my husband back down to Earth.

I think he missed me as much as I missed him. The thought makes me happy, tugging another small smirk to my face.

"Students!" He calls, eye going wide as he looks at me. Perhaps Kakashi doesn't want me around his students because I'm too much of a distraction. Oh well, one day of distraction won't hurt. "Students," he repeats, turning away from me to face the children he's responsible for.

"Sensei, who's the cute lady?" Naruto asks, his eyes wide as well as he looks over me.

"Um..."

"You can call me Mrs. Hatake!" I chirp out, sidestepping Kashi so his students can see me better.

"She's not even that good-looking," the little emo boy says, rolling his eyes at Naruto's compliment.

"And you're not as badass as you think you are," I respond, tone still chirpy as I smile at the Uchiha.

"Maybe let's not insult Sensei's girlfriend," Sakura pipes in, sending a glare at her heartthrob.

"Wife," Kakashi corrects, a small smile on his face. My heart jumps a bit at the word. I don't think I'll ever get used to him calling me his wife.

"Wife?!" They all call out, surprise on their face as they look at me.

"Wife," Kashi repeats, tugging his glove off his left hand before grabbing at mine. He holds up our hands, showing off our matching wedding bands to his students.

The bands are basic but cute; black with blue lightening strips through them. Gai teases that Kakashi had them made this way to mimic his Chidori as a fail-proof claim to me. I don't mind the teasing, I find it adorable that Kashi wants people to know for certain that he's my husband. What better way to do that than marking me with his personal ninjutsu?

"You... are married to someone like that?" His kunoichi asks, face scrunched up in disbelief.

"Is that supposed to be an insult, Sakura?" Kash asks, his face still covered in a smile as he wiggles his glove back on.

"No, you're just so..." she makes another face, causing a laugh to brew in my chest. "And she's so pretty."

"You're pretty too, Sakura. I like the color of your hair," I answer, sending the kid a compliment back. Her face shifts to a smile instead of the previous face of disbelief. Good, I'm making a good impression on my husband's students.

"You know Sakura's name?!" Naruto asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I hum a yes, turning my attention to him. "I know your name too, Naruto, and I know Mr Moody over there is Sasuke."

Naruto - somehow - beams even more with happiness, and Sasuke's face scrunches in disapproval. "How do you know our names?" The ball of chakra asks, his in-place bouncing shifting to actual bouncing.

"Because she's a jounin, duh. Do you ever use your head Naruto?" Mr Moody asks, paired with another eye roll.

"Actually, I'm just a chunin. I'm not as skilled as your Sensei," I correct, sending Naruto a soft smile of reassurance.

"Like a C-level chunin or a B-level chunin?" Sasuke asks, his attention finally caught.

"Usually B-leveled but I do take C-level missions on occasion."

"You just got back from a mission, ya?" He asks, body language opening up some. I'm three for three in the student department. That is a solid win.

"Yes, I did. Maybe we can talk about it over some food, hm?" I gently push, sending Kakashi a sheepish smile. I know he's going to give me what I want; he always does, but I should have asked him privately before bringing it up to his students.

On the other hand, Kakashi is out of his groove so I'm sure his students are out of a training mindset as well. Some food would help set them back on track, maybe. Probably not, but I want to get to know his students a little more. After all, they're a big part of his life, which makes them a big part of my life.

"Really?! Can we, Sensei? Can we? Can we? Can we?" Naruto cheers, running circles around Kash as he pleads.

"Alright, alright!" He calls, stopping Naruto in his tracks. "We can take a small break and go eat at Ramen Ichiraku, but as soon as we're done eating we are doing the bell test. Y/N can't wiggle you guys out of that," Kashi answers, sending me a warning look, telling me to not even try to stop their testing again after we eat.

"Yes!" Naruto cheers, darting in the direction of the village's main road.

Sasuke rolls his eyes again but follows after his squad mate, his pace notably slower than Naruto's. Sakura follows suit, trying her best to get Sasuke to promise to sit next to her. He is having none of it though, at least not until Naruto offers to sit next to her. Then he seems a little more interested in the offer. The little Uchiha boy takes after his Sensei more than he knows.

—————————————

"That sounds so cool," Naruto yells around a mouth full of noodles. I'll have to send Iruka a passing comment about his kid's lack of table manners. Despite that, Naruto is still adorable and the cutest little fuzz-ball I've ever met.

"Didn't feel cool when I was getting stitched up," I reply a small chuckle following my words.

"If you can take the cut, you can take the stitch," Kakashi teases despite the tighter grip he has on my hand under the table. Mr. Play-It-Cool isn't as laid back as he's pretending.

"What about you guys? You just got back from the Village hidden in the Mist, ya?" I push gently, trying to change the subject. I can almost hear the 'thank you' brewing in my husband's throat, even if he'd never voice it. The relaxed fingers tangled in mine are enough of an approval. "That must have been fun."

"It was alright," Sasuke mumbles, chopsticks messing with his noodles. Little Moody isn't as good at playing off his emotions as his Sensei.

"You got your second tomoe, right?" I try again, turning my focus to Sasuke. He's a closed-off one, just like Kakashi... and his brother.

The Uchahi's eyes go a bit wide before his full attention is on me. "Um... ya, I guess."

"You guess? I feel like that's something you would know."

"I did, ya," he mumbles before turning his attention back to his bowl.

"Well, that's quite the accomplishment. Your father would be proud."

I should not have said that. Sasuke's grip on his chopsticks tightens, head snaps back up, glare directed at me, as he pushes himself to his feet. The stool he was standing on clinks to the ground, making Sakura jump. It would be a cute scene if the Uchahi didn't have murder in his eyes.

"And what do you know about my father? Nothing. Just like you know nothing about me, so stop trying to be a mother hen. I don't need you to be one, neither does Naruto or Sakura, so knock it off. And while you're at it stop pretending you know anything about the sharingan too, cause you don't."

A soft smile sits on my face as I look over Sasuke. He reminds me so much of Kakashi, right down to the similar anger they have. The only difference is I managed to get Kashi to process his anger for the death of his loved ones.

"Are you done?" I ask gently, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi repeatedly squeezing my hand under the table. That, and the stare he's burning into me.

"Yes," the Uchiha hisses out, eyes squinting in anger.

"Well, first, information on anything - sharingan included - is available at the library. Second, your Sensei has a sharingan so I know a good deal about it. Third, there's a difference between me wanting to get to know you and me wanting to mother you. Fourth, I did meet your father quite a few times before his death so I can say for certain that you were one of his pride and joys."

"Oh," is the only answer I get back, but I don't mind since it seems my speech worked. Sasuke is still a bit on edge but his body language relaxes a bit before he picks his stool back up. I'll count that as a win. What a little spitfire.

The feeling of Kakashi's hold on my hand tightens again, pulling me out of the situation. I turn my attention to him, being met with a soft masked smile. Flowers of love blossom in my chest at the sight. God I love this man, and our little make-shift family. Maybe Sasuke is right, maybe I am accidentally trying to mother my husband's students.

—————————————

"Hatake!" A voice rings out, pulling my attention away from Gai. I've spent the day helping him train his students, aka being an example dummy for new taijutsus he wants to show his genins. It's not all bad, he promised me dinner to "ease my bruises".

"Yes?" I call back, glancing at Gai and his students before turning towards the noise.

Gai's mini-me - Lee - is beaming with joy as he races past me. "If it isn't my greatest competitor for Sakura's heart!" He yells, falling back into his defensive pose. I swear this new generation of Shinobis is just packed full of energy.

Sasuke makes a face at Lee before turning his attention to me. "Sensei wants you," he murmurs before turning in his heels.

I shoot Gai an apologetic smile before heading off after the Uchahi. It's funny watching him trying to stay a step or two ahead of me. Given, that it doesn't last long, him falling back to a normal pace.

Most of the walk is uneventful, nothing more than silence and eye daggers being thrown at me. "I don't like you," Sasuke finally says once we get to the outer fields of the village.

"Well, I don't like you either," I shoot back, trying to keep the smile off my mouth.

Once again Sasuke makes a face, this time in surprise instead of disgust like earlier. "You can't say that to me."

"And yet, I did," I answer, letting the smirk settle on my face.

"You have an attitude problem."

"I'm copying you, so maybe you have an attitude problem."

Another face, this time leaving him as the spitting image of his mother. It's always surprised me how much Sasuke looks like his mom. Will Kashi and my child look that much like me? Or take after their father? I hope they at least get their father's Shinobi skills. Though, children can't be something I think of right now. Kakashi has his hands full as is.

Once again silence falls between the genin and I, but this time it's a comfortable silence instead of the anger brewing one from before. As we walk, Sasuke occasionally bumps into me, his nose scrunching up each time followed by a couple of side steps away from me. Despite his efforts, the little Uchahi keeps hovering back to my side and continues to bump into me. It's good to know under all the brewing, Sasuke is still a child.

"Look!" Naruto's voice echoes across the empty field, his blob coming into view again. "Lady Hatake!" He screams, dragging out my Clan name as he races across the field, Sakura in tow but she's screaming for Sasuke instead of me.

"Naruto!" I call back, bracing myself for impact. Despite my preparation, I still end up taking a step or two back when Naruto's body collides with mine. His limbs stab into me in a few different places, bones colliding against my own along with my stitches. I suck in the hiss of pain trying to slide out as I hold on to the small boy.

"Naruto," Sasuke hisses out, dagger eyes back on his face. "Be careful. Hatake is still hurt, dumbie." An eye roll is paired with the end of his sentence, along with a disappointed tongue click.

"Oh, right. Sorry Lady Hatake."

"It's all right," I hum, straightening the boy before letting him go. "What are you guys working on?"

"Chakra control! Which I'm doing awesome at, by the way," Sakura answers, a proud smile across her face. I can't help but smile too at how proud she is of herself. My husband does have some good genins.

"Hello," Kakashi's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from his students, but not for long.

"Nah-uh! You get her all to yourself all the time Sensei, wait your turn!" Naruto barks, a sorry attempt at a glare on his face. "Guess what Lady Hatake!"

"What?" I ask, glancing down at the chakra ball before looking back at my husband. He's beaming - well beaming as much as he lets himself outside of the safety of our house.

"I tried a new ramen last night!"

"Oh ya?" My empty question is followed by a twenty-minute conversation about some spicy ramen Naruto tried. It's also filled with Sakura reminding him that he's stupid and Sasuke's disapproval being openly shared.

"Okay, that's enough about your dinner, Naruto," Kashi pipes up, cutting Naruto off. "You can have her back in a minute. Go... see who can hang upside longest." He mumbles, shrugging towards the tree a couple of feet away.

"It's totally going to be me," Naruto cheers, running off towards the tree.

"No way I'm going to let you beat me!" Sasuke yells, dashing after his squad mate, Sakura hot on his heels.

The thought of children crawls back into my head. I already adore Kash's students, I can only imagine how much I'd adore our children.

"Hey, Kash-"

"Love-"

Silence follows our accidental overlap, before being chased away by both of us chuckling. "What were you going to say?" I ask, soaking in my husband's appearance. No matter how many times or how long I look at him, Kakashi is always the most handsome man in the world.

"I think we should go to dinner tonight," he answers, glancing at his students. As ordered, all three are hanging upside down like bats. Though, Sakura looks tired so the competition will probably end up being between the boys.

"Why's that?" I ask my attention also on the genins. My chest bubbles with joy as I watch the boys try to tug each other off the branches.

"I want to talk about having a baby."

"What?" The word is torn from my lungs as my head flips back to Kakashi.

He's stood there, arms crossed and a faint smile under his mask. "I want to have a baby." He repeats, my head spinning a bit. Maybe he's more prepared for a child than I thought.

"Kash-" I start again, but end up getting cut off for the second time today.

"Naruto is cheating!" Sakura yells, waving her hands around to try and get Kakashi's attention.

"I'll see you tonight. Naruto! Knock it off!" My eyes trail after him as I watch his path toward his students. The idea of motherhood seemed so lovely a second ago, but now? It's terrifying.

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi oneshot #kakashi hatake oneshot #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader

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tickle-bugs · 3 months

Text

Stupid in Love

Summary: Nick Miller is completely, 100% normal about all things Jessica Day. Including her smile, her laugh--ah, fuck. He's doomed. NickJess ft. pining!Nick

Anon: I just saw you write for New Girl! I am in my yearly rewatch of the show so I am so happy you write for it! Maybe the loft gang and CeCe can be playing a game of true American and somehow during the game it comes out that Jess is incredibly ticklish. Everyone is too focused on the game to use it to their advantage at the moment, but nick remembers and maybe later when him and Jess are together, he decided to test his new found knowledge and see just how ticklish Jess really is.

While this isn’t set during a particular episode, I was thinking HEAVILY about s2 ep15, Cooler. One of the greatest episodes of the whole show, hands down. I just wanted to write pining Nick tbh.

True American is the best goddamn game ever invented. It defines a man at his core level. Everything that’s ever mattered to Nick is on the line in this game. His dignity, his pride, his dignity…

He honestly can’t remember what they’re playing for. Something involving the sink. Or a drink? Unclear, but irrelevant. Nick is the king of an aluminum can palace and his citizens will thrive under his leadership. This is his birthright.

They’re playing True American: Catan Edition tonight. Each player defends their own small nations and attempts to crush the others, throwing their leaders to the molten lava below. It’s the smartest thing Winston’s ever come up with.

“Duel for my amusement,” Nick slurs, waving his paper towel roll scepter around. The cardboard crown on his head slips down over his eyes. Cece blows a raspberry at him. He lobs a balled-up piece of paper at her.

Jess plays a fanfare into her backup kazoo—Schmidt threw away her main one—and draws angry eyebrows onto the smiley face of her country’s flag. A declaration of war.

Sober Jess is all for political progress and human rights, but Drunk Jess? Maniacal, power-hungry, and so very hot.

Focus, Miller.

“Two, four, six, eight! Who do we appreciate?” Jess climbs onto one of the kitchen chairs and puts a colander on her head. A warrior’s helm. Nick smiles at her.

In their corner of the living room, Winston and Schmidt whisper furiously. At some point in the last hour, Winston had ascended to Grand Advisor of Schmidt’s Creek. Schmidt had lost the ability to speak after can number two, when Cece had flirted him out of all of his natural resources and a third of his land. Nick had been trying to think of how to poach Winston to Nicklandia, but he couldn’t think of a plan that didn’t involve saying ‘please’ until he passed out.

“Schmidt’s Creek will not challenge today!” Winston crushes his beer can against Schmidt’s forehead. Schmidt doesn’t even blink.

“Ruth Gader Binsburg! I challenge your weird little colony, Jess,” Cece shouts, messily hopping onto the chair next to Jess. They start some combination of swatting at each other and clutching on for dear life. Schmidt looks up at Cece like a drunk, lovesick puppy. Nick rolls his eyes.

Thank god he doesn’t look like that.

Does he look like that?

Shit. He’s missing the game.

“Yeah? Guess what—” Jess knocks her knuckles against the colander helmet, winces, and then points at Cece— “I’m the Queen of England, bitch.”

Nick’s not sure what’s elapsed in the apparently three years since he was last paying attention, but he knows by the way that Cece gasps that someone’s dying on the living room and/or kitchen floor tonight. Jess cackles and puts her hands on her hips. They start yelling, but even if they’re saying real human words, which he’s pretty sure they’re not, he’s not processing it. Jess looks so stupid in that little holey hat—someone should invent a word for that thing—and she’s adorable.

Nick leans his cheek on his palm and smiles wider. Does she know her nose scrunches when she’s annoyed?

Nick leans a little too far and loses his balance. Half of his aluminum fortress tumbles down. When he looks back up, Jess and Cece haven’t budged. Or blinked. Cece squints at Jess and it’s clear the conversation has ascended to psychic levels that even Drunk Nick can’t access. He tries though. Mostly gives himself a headache.

Something in their eye conversation must shift, because Cece gets this look on her face. Like pure, concentrated mischief. The aura off of her is so powerful that everyone scoots back a bit. Cece starts stretching and cracking her knuckles.

“Waitwaitwait, Cece, you don’t have to do this.” Jess holds her hands up in immediate surrender, but she’s smiling hard enough to brighten the room. A little nervous giggle picks up in the back of her throat and she starts to turn pinker than the boxed rosé that forms her section of the living room.

“Oh, but I do. Surrender. Now.” Cece points to the floor. Which is lava. Cruel way to go.

Jess looks at her best friend with the kind of profound resignation only possible when piss drunk. She sighs deeply, staring at the floor…

And then launches herself at Cece with a war cry.

Cece doesn’t even flinch. She catches Jess, smirks, and starts tickling her sides with vicious precision. Jess lets out a giggly shriek and crumples, sinking right down into the lava. The colander tumbles off of her head and rolls into Nick’s fortress.

The sound worms itself into Nick’s brain, taking up residence alongside all the other little Jess things that drive him nuts. It distracts him hard enough that by the time Winston arises as Supreme Leader of the Loft, Nick can’t even trace the path of his defeat.

………

Even when sobriety beats them over the head the next morning, Nick can remember nothing but the sweet music of Jess’s laugh. And the shape of her smile.

God he’s hopeless.

The slow march of the week brings some relief in the sense that a) Nick remembers that he really doesn’t do the whole ‘feelings’ thing and b) alcohol makes anyone look like an angel walking the earth. He is a grown ass man and Jess is an annoying little craft goblin. He can be normal. She’s normal. No need to get worked up over her.

“You look like Mr. Rogers’s grumpy cousin.” Jess snickers, fiddling with the sleeve of Nick’s hideous cardigan.

“You done? You finished?” He pulls his sleeve away from her. It’s really Schmidt’s, which she very well knows. Nick’s only wearing it because Schmidt’s being weird about Cece again, and the only way to survive that is to bend to his will. Schmidt’s already dehydrated himself twice this week trying to show off his muscles more, Nick doesn’t want to add to that by making the guy cry. He’d never stop.

Jess, however, doesn’t seem to understand the magnitude of this manly sacrifice. She’s too busy laughing at him.

“Mmmm, no, I don’t think I am. You look like a Muppet.” She pinches his cheek. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, that’s just a compliment.”

“No, no. You look like the bird. The bird with the eyebrows—“ Jess pauses as her giggles overtake her— “You look like Sam the Eagle.”

Jess folds over into his shoulder with laughter and smacks his chest. The warmth of it almost distracts him from the comment.

Almost.

“Yeah, laugh it up, Jess. C’mere—“ He drags her across the couch by the ankle and latches onto her sides. She makes that adorable sound again, that giggly shriek, and flails like a worm on a hook. She tries to push his face away. He swats her hands aside like it’s nothing. When reaches for him again—futile, really—he snatches her wrists in one hand, pins them down, and tickles with the other.

Her whole face burns. He chooses to ignore it for both of their sakes.

“Let me know when you’re ready to apologize. Take your time.” He does a little pinchy thing with his fingers and Jess lets out a high-pitched mess of syllables. She throws her head back and cackles, arching up into him.

“Hmm, yeah, see none of that sounded like ‘You’re the best, Nick Miller’. Try again.” He pokes all over her torso, fast and wild. He lets go of her and adds his other hand into the mix. Every time she tries to talk, he speeds up, making her laugh at his silliness along with his hands. She kicks her legs and lets out a little giggly growl. Nick smiles so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Nick!” She grabs his wrists but doesn’t stop him. His stomach flips. She’s so overwhelming.

“That’s my name.” He skitters his fingers up her ribs to distract himself from the lump in his throat.

Jess flails and nearly takes them both off the couch and into the next life. Nick catches himself before he collapses on top of her, but it puts their faces mere inches apart. The space of a breath. He can see the faint freckles across her nose, all brought forth by the pink flush down her cheeks and neck. As she catches her breath, lips parted, her laughter simmers low in her chest. He brushes her hair out of her face. His hand lingers on her cheek.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Does she know that?

Nick gets the deep, burning urge to kiss her senseless. To download all these embarrassing, vulnerable thoughts from his brain to hers. To show her how deep this goes. To drink of her like the wine at restaurants he can never afford.

No. Not like this. She deserves better than this.

Than him.

He starts to pull away, awkwardly clearing his throat. Jess surges forward and Nick’s stupid little monkey brain gleefully claps its hands together, shouting this is it! It’s happening! Nick’s brain activity screeches to a halt. He stares at her mouth and freezes.

Jess flips them over and starts tickling his ears like some kind of insane supervillain.

“No! Jessica!” He turtles and attempts to fling himself to safety. All he accomplishes is hanging off the back of the couch, leaving his knees in reach of Jess’s evil nails—

One day he will be smart about Jessica Day, but he concedes that it won’t be today. But as she destroys him and Schmidt’s stupid, hopefully inexpensive cardigan, he secretly hopes the day never arrives.

#my fics #new girl #nickjess #ticklish!jess day #jess day #nick miller #not v proud of this one but it was fun attempting nick's inner voice #hope u enjoy new girl anon! thank u for ur patience <3

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padfootagain · 1 year

Text

The Last Chance (I)

Chapter 1 : Meeting

Hi! Coming back with a request for my Comeback Event!! Woohoo!!! Today we are answering an anonymous request : ‘Ben Barnes & #23 for the event? 💗’. Prompt 23 was ‘wrong time to right time’.

I was actually super happy to receive this prompt for Ben, because I had already planned to write something of the kind for Ben using his acoustic video for 11:11… you’ll see what I mean when you read the third part of the fic, but it fits my plans perfectly! So, thank you so much for your request!! Although this was meant to be a one-shot, it got completely out of hand, and I had to split the fic into three parts! So, here is part 1, and you’ll get part 2 on April 29 (2023) and part 3 on May 1rst!

I hope you enjoy your fic, anon!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 But for this first part, it’s rather a fluffy beginning and an angsty ending…

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 4693

It’s late. It’s raining. You’re bored out of your mind, actually.

Amazing idea to follow your friends from university as they crash every bar in town… Wonderful plan. Especially when you have to wait for your roommate to go back to the campus, to finally go to bed. You check your watch. It’s almost 1am. You have an exam tomorrow at eleven. Great… So much for your good night of rest and quiet.

There’s only so much space under the porch of this bar. You’re partly soaked already.

Great…

You look inside once more, to see your friend snogging some guy. You don’t know him. He’s cute though, you guess. Black hair. Warm sweater. Lean. He blushes when your friend pulls away, you guess he’s a little shy. Maybe that’s the guy she’s been talking about, the cute one Cassie met in one of your classes… which class is it again? It has something to do with 18th century literature, you reckon, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You give the couple five more minutes before storming inside and pulling her out by the neck yourself…

You go to the bathroom for five minutes, and that’s all the time Cassie needs to meet the guy she’s trying to date and to start snogging him in public… wonderful…

Or well, maybe snogging is a bit much. Kissing is more accurate.

You decide that a cigarette is going to calm you down, so you light one up and take a long drag. The feeling of the intoxicating smoke does help. You feel yourself relaxing, but you don’t give up on your resolution to kick your roommate’s arse, and to do so rather sooner than later.

You’re taking your second drag when the door behind you opens, and you move a little to the side to let the young man walk out. He gives you a shy smile and a nod to silently thank you, and you copy his polite gesture. But instead of walking away in the street, he remains under the shelter of the porch next to you, glancing inside through the glass door. He buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Waiting for someone too?” you ask him, trying to be nonchalant.

Actually, you’re a little uncomfortable that a stranger shares your hiding spot. He seems nice enough though. Dark hair. Tall. He gives you a shy smile.

“Yeah, waiting for a friend. Sorry, if I’m bothering you during your cigarette break.”

“No worries. I’m waiting for my roommate to go home.”

“Looks like we both have some lousy friends,” he jokes, and you decide that you like his smile.

He accepts the cigarette that you offer him, and he lights it up with your lighter. He inhales deeply the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds, before puffing it out in a white cloud. You can’t help but notice that he’s rather handsome doing that…

“Yeah… and I have a test tomorrow morning,” you go on, looking for a distraction as the stranger raises the cigarette back to his lips. “So, I will probably murder her if she doesn’t come out soon.”

He chuckles with you.

“You’re studying at university?” he asks, deciding that doing conversation is better than merely waiting in the cold night. He’s already half-soaked because of how small this porch is and how hard it rains.

“Literature.”

“Really? Kingston too?”

“Yes…”

“I’ve never seen you in class.”

“You’re studying English as well?”

“Yeah, junior year.”

“Oh… you’re one year ahead, that’s why!”

You take the last drag off your cigarette, and rub the incandescent tip against the sole of your shoe, making the blaze die out.

“You like it so far?” he asks.

It’s only November but it’s cold already, and you can see the white puff of air escaping his lungs as he speaks; it dances in the cold air and the golden light coming from the streetlamp a few feet away, along with the one shed by the pub.

“Yeah, it’s alright. You?”

“Sure.”

You don’t really know what to say, and you look for your friend again, who is still snogging her date…

“Which one is your lousy friend?” the stranger asks, looking inside as well.

“The blond one with a tongue in her throat, at the back.”

You don’t understand why he starts laughing. It’s loud and infectious though. You like it.

“Well, looks like we share the same doom. My friend is the one with his tongue in her throat.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

You check your watch, heaving a sigh.

You look cute. It’s the first thought that comes to his mind as he looks at your annoyed expression. You’re crinkling your nose, and it’s adorable. He finds you pretty, even like this: clearly frozen, half-drenched, your hair and clothes dishevelled. Really pretty, actually…

“What a pair of morons,” you mumble under your breath. “I give them two more minutes before committing a murder.”

He can’t help but chuckle. You’re funny.

“I can be your alibi if you’d like,” he offers, making you laugh.

“Works for me.”

He’s about to speak again, ask about your name, yourself, what you like, if you’re free tomorrow night, but you’re faster than him. You blurt out a triumphant shout.

“Hallelujah! They’re standing up! We can go home!”

“A bloody miracle!”

He can’t help it. The way he’s kind of… disappointed. He takes one last drag out of his cigarette, staring at you and the way the golden light of the pub dances over your features.

A minute later and your friend and her date are finally in the street with you.

“Oh, Y/N! You haven’t met my boyfriend yet!” Cassie says, looking excited.

“Nope. Haven’t had the pleasure. But, huh… well, I’m Y/N,” you tell the dark-haired guy who’s still holding your friend’s hand.

He gives you a crooked smile, a little arrogant around the edges. He looks cute, you’ve got to admit. You do find his friend cuter though. You like the way he blushes now that all of you are cramped under the small space of the porch.

“Nice to meet, Y/N. I’m Jonathan. Oh, but… looks like you’ve met my friend already. Hmm, Cassie, this is Ben. We’re in the same year.”

He waves at her, and she greets him too. But Ben’s eyes land quickly on you again.

So… your name’s Y/N. That’s a cute name…

You’re there.

He’s been trying to see you again for the past two weeks, but couldn’t find a way to reach you. You were never around when Jonathan met Cassie, and Ben wanted to talk directly to you, instead of asking to one of your friends. He’s been about to abandon this crazy idea of his, these past couple of days. But now… here you are…

You’re sitting at a table alone in the middle of the library; focused on a large book, he recognizes the cover even from afar. Poetry. He knows, he went through the same book the previous year. He can’t help an amused smile. It’s a rough class, you’ll struggle for sure, just like everyone does.

He takes a deep breath, trying to control his quickening heartbeat and the sudden shakiness in his hands.

Damn, you make him so nervous… and he has barely talked to you at all for now.

He can feel his cheeks reddening, the heat creeping up all the way to the tip of his ears, but he can’t help it, can’t fight it. Just like he can’t fight the way his heart stops when you look up at him.

You must have felt that he was staring, that’s why your eyes lifted from the yellowed pages to settle on him. He can’t look away anymore.

You’re terribly pretty. Damn… you make him so nervous.

He’s not good at this. But he’s got to try, because after a small frown, you seem to recognize him and you’re smiling. You’re smiling, bright and warm and welcoming.

Right… it’s nothing really. Worst case scenario, you’ll simply say you’re not interested in him at all, and your two lives will go on as if this never happened.

He forces a smile on his lips, clenches his fists behind his back to help calm his nerves.

You can see he’s nervous though. He’s shy, you can tell. You read it on his lips despite the smile that takes shape there; the gesture’s small but earnest. You see it painted in red over his nose and cheeks. You find it adorable, to be honest…

“Hi, Y/N,” he speaks in a shy voice, whispering as he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet of the library.

“Hi, Ben! It’s nice to see you again, especially not at 1am under the cold rain.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too,” he answers with a breathy chuckle, and his smile is bigger now, merrier too. “Would you mind if I sat down with you?”

“No, not at all. Please, sit down.”

You move some of your pens and papers to the side so he can sit opposite you.

“I see you’re struggling in Barrows’s class too,” he teases you, nodding towards the book.

“Yeah… this class is complicated. But then, I feel like everybody is struggling as much as I am, so it must not come from me.”

“No, I struggled a lot with it too. I can help you, if you want.”

“Oh, that would be nice of you, thank you. But I don’t want to bother you...”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, I’m offering. I’ve got about an hour before I need to leave, gives us plenty of time.”

“Okay, then. Thank you.”

Ben struggles at first to remember precisely what was taught in the class, but it comes back quickly as you ask him questions, and the two of you spend about half an hour studying. But then, the conversation drifts away from poetry; and it’s his fault really, he’s the one who makes a hilarious joke. The words you exchange change from literature to your favourite movie, to this play he’s seen a few weeks ago, to your love for stories, to his love for acting, to your mother and her funny habits, to his brother who’s growing up too fast to his liking. He is more relaxed now, the blushing has subsided, and you find him funny. There’s something gentle and kind in his gaze, you can feel he’s a nice guy.

The more the conversation goes on, the more you notice how handsome he is, and it’s hard to control your heartbeat when he intensely stares at you with these black eyes of his. You’re the one avoiding his gaze now, not as confident as you were when he arrived.

Damn, he makes you so nervous…

He checks his watch as you try to quieten your laughter against the palm of your hand, but you fail miserably to do so, and the student at the table next to yours sends you a glare.

Ben’s eyes grow round, and he suddenly jumps on his feet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh, yes, you said you had something… I’m sorry, I didn’t check the time.”

But he shoots you a reassuring smile, and you find it infectious; the gesture spreads across your lips as well.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry. But I need to go.”

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble…”

“No, don’t worry. I’m just meeting up with some friends for rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing? Rehearsing what?”

He smiles, red back to colour his cheeks, and he seems to hesitate before speaking.

“I play the drums.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Like… you’re any good?”

“Enough to play in the West End.”

“Wow… I have to admit I did not see this one coming.”

Ben’s standing by the table now, his bag haphazardly thrown on his shoulder, but he’s not moving yet, not even if he’s late. He doesn’t want to.

“Why? Not bad-boyish enough?” he chuckles, but you can see he’s only half-joking.

“Well, you’ve got to admit that… basic jeans and a plain blue jumper don’t really strike me as ‘drummer in a rock-band’ type of clothing,” you tease him.

“No, I guess not.”

You can’t believe you’re the one speaking the next words that pass your lips, but they still tumble out of your mouth, in a whisper so low you almost hope he doesn’t hear you.

“Despite the comfy clothes, it’s still quite sexy, though.”

But he’s heard you just fine. As proof, you’re staring at each other in silence for several seconds, both your heartbeats erratic, and your breathing a mess. Slowly, a smile curves up his lips, until he’s properly grinning.

“Well, then… if I use the argument that I’m a drummer… maybe you’ll find me interesting enough to go out with me this Friday?”

You struggle not to smile, but miserably fail. You look away to hide your reaction.

“Depends on what you have in mind, I guess.”

“Well… they’re playing When Harry Met Sally at a little cinema nearby. What do you say? The movie is at nine.”

“If we can grab a pizza before that, then I’m down for it.”

You exchange a grin.

“That could be arranged. Then… let’s say… seven thirty before your dorm?”

“How do you know where my dorm is?”

“Jonathan.”

“Oh… and Cassie?”

“Sadly, yes.”

You chuckle together, and you nod your head.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

When he leaves, you watch him walking out of the library, with his blue jeans and navy jumper too big for him, and you can’t refrain a dreamy smile.

Looks like you’ve got a date…

Your sides are painful, he makes you laugh too much.

He’s making silly voices to comment the TV show you’re watching on your tiny television screen. You’ve forgotten altogether what the show is about, Ben is too distracting. You don’t mind though. It feels good to laugh. Finals are over, summer is upon you. It’s a happy time to be alive. Night quiet, goofy boyfriend and warm clothes, with an empty pizza box discarded somewhere on the floor.

You’re cuddled into his side, with his hand on your waist and your head on his chest. It’s warm and safe in his embrace, you love the sound of his breathing against your ear, the way you shake a little as he laughs.

It’s peaceful and happy and you feel lucky to be with him.

“You’re insufferable, I can’t even watch TV with you,” you tease him; the grin on your lips and the laugh making your voice hoarse are enough to show you’re merely joking.

“What are you talking about? We are watching TV. If not, then what are we doing? Snogging? I wish…”

You playfully swat his shoulder.

“Perv!”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

You fake outrage.

“Benjamin!”

“Yes, darling?”

You look at each other, before bursting into laughter.

“I’m joking!” he reassures you, before suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Unless you’re in the mood…”

You push him away, laughing some more. Actually, you push him so much he almost falls off your bed, and you have to pull him back towards you so he won’t fall.

You both gasp, before losing yourselves in an uncontrollable laughter.

It takes you two a while to finally calm down, both of you crying with laughter and struggling to breathe.

“Darling… you really will be the death of me,” says Ben, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Well, not your death… but your ticket to the hospital, probably…”

Before you can joke some more, you’re back into his arms. You don’t stop him when he pulls you close, you’re used to it. That’s his way of saying he cares.

He’s a little surprised when you kiss him. He thought you’d banter some more, he knows you like it. But instead of your playfulness, he’s met with your soft lips that taste like the sweet soda you’ve been drinking tonight. It’s not hard for him to forget about everything while you kiss him. No plans for the summer, no TV, no world outside your lips on his, your tongue teasing him, your hands in his hair, the soft fabric of your t-shirt, and the warmth of your skin as he cradles your cheek.

When you break away, you’re both out of breath.

Ben struggles to clear his throat, nose brushing against yours, eyes still closed.

“So… snogging then, huh?”

You laugh. You should speak about the summer, about what you’re going to do about your relationship in the coming months, but you don’t want to. This evening is too nice, you’re happy. Unbelievably so.

As you stare at him, getting lost in his dark eyes, you reckon that now is not the time for this serious talk. You’d rather bathe in the feeling of his embrace, of his lips upon yours. You’d rather linger for a while in this state, where you feel safe and cared for.

Instead of talking about plans, and obstacles, you choose merrier words, tender ones.

“Maybe I just love you.”

You see he’s surprised. After all, none of you have said it yet. You’re not worried though, he looks at you with too much tenderness for that.

“Well, maybe I love you too.”

You kiss while grinning, it’s messy and affectionate and it tastes of carelessness and a happiness you ought to hold onto while it lasts. It’s ephemeral, yet you wish it could last for a lifetime.

“I can’t come on Saturday.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“That’s alright, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I have an audition for a play in the West End on Monday, I need to work as much as I can.”

“Do you want me to help you with your lines? We could practice.”

“Jonathan is going to help. It’ll be easier, the scene is between two guys. Besides, you haven’t taken any class about acting this year. I don’t mean to offend you but…”

“Jonathan has more experience, I get it. No need to worry. I need a little bit more than that to be offended.”

“I know… still… it makes me feel awful. It’s the third time in a row I’m cancelling a date night…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s alright, really. I get it. You need to get a job. I’m sure it’s going to work out. I’m expecting nothing less but a leading role for you, mister.”

Your voice is teasing, and you pull on the collar of his white shirt to drop a sweet peck on his lips, his stubble tickling your skin, but none of you are fooled.

You’re disappointed. Almost mad.

He feels guilty. Almost sad.

It’s not the first time it happens, you reckon it won’t be the last. You should not take it so seriously, and yet you do. You take this too seriously, because you haven’t had a proper date in over a month. You haven’t spent more than two nights together in three weeks. You’ve barely had a full conversation in the past few days.

You’re drifting apart. You’re drifting apart because he’s got all these things to do to get a job, and you’re still a student, and you don’t live with the same rhythms anymore.

Still, you love him. You’ll make it work.

“If your audition is on Monday, what if we have a pizza and a movie on Tuesday?” you offer, hugging him close, as if you’re scared he’s going to leave too soon.

“But you have classes early in the morning on Wednesdays…”

“It’s okay. I can skip one class, it won’t kill me. Cassie will give me all her notes. It’s just this once. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d rather spend my evening with you.”

He gives you a tender smile, taking you in his arms to hold you in a tight embrace, dropping sweet kisses on your hair.

You’re drifting apart.

Still, he loves you. He’ll make it work.

“Alright, then. Date night on Tuesday. And if I get this job, I’ll treat you to a nice restaurant. Would you like that?”

You enthusiastically nod, before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You hold onto each other for a long time.

You’re drifting apart. It’s alright though. You’ll both make it work. You have to.

It’s funny how life works haphazardly sometimes, it would seem.

It’s random, really. The fact that you met, the fact that you crossed path again in this library, the fact that you fell in love with him, the fact that you have to say goodbye now.

Because you know already how this is going to end. You’re having a conversation, but you both already know all the arguments.

You’re flying to Dublin to get a job in a small newspaper, and he’s flying to Australia to play in a huge movie. He wants to focus on acting. You want to figure yourself out. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it’s just that you don’t want to sacrifice this opportunity for him. And it’s not that he has stopped loving you, it’s just that he wants to give his career a try. A reel one. And to do that, he needs to travel across the globe.

You’re barely out of college, you could feel it was coming. Ben has been working for a while now, and you know your worlds are not aligning as much anymore. Instead, they feel more like two strangers standing next to each other. They felt like an embrace before.

It’s been here for a while, the acknowledgment that this is not the right time for the two of you. You’re young, you love him but you’re not sure what you want. And he’s young, he loves you but he has dreams in his head he wants to catch before they pass out of reach. You’re lost, and he’s determined. You love him, and he loves you. But everything else in your lives have stopped matching a while ago.

He's got an opportunity, and an amazing one. And you have an opportunity as well. And the two are thousands of miles apart.

“We could give it a try,” he offers, but you can hear it in his voice that even he doesn’t believe in his own words.

“It’s never going to work,” you argue.

“No need to be so pessimistic about it.”

He reaches for your hand across the mattress. The sheets are soft under your palm. You wish you could resist him, but you can’t, and so you entwine your fingers together.

“I’m still in love with you,” Ben lets out in a shaky breath.

“I love you too. I think… I think I always will, in a way.”

You look up at the ceiling to prevent any tear from escaping. You don’t want to be crying. It would be silly. You knew it was coming, it has been there for months.

You’re not parting ways because he cheated, because he’s stopped loving you, because he’s a jerk, because he’s treating you badly...

He’s a sweetheart. He’s a nice guy. Your lives have drifted apart, that’s all. You’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing you, because you love him, but you can’t make it work.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he goes on, “but I don’t see any other way. Cause… cause it’s… we’ll never see each other, how can this work?”

“I know, Ben. I know. That’s why we need to stop this, before it goes sour. Before our love for each other becomes bitter because we’re frustrated with the distance, and your job, and mine, and our different goals… It’s alright. It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s not really our fault. We just… want different things. And no one can have everything they want in life.”

You’re right, and he knows it. Still, as he looks at you like this, on the verge of tears, with your fingers in his, with this sadness painted all over your features… he still loves you. He’s crazy about you, really.

But you’re right, and the two of you don’t want the same things. Still, he’s pretty certain he’s making the wrong choice right now. He knows he’ll regret this as soon as he’ll walk out of your bedroom, as soon as he’ll exit your dorm. He’ll regret this. But then again, he would regret not giving his career a chance too.

Which one is worse? He’s not sure. But he knows you’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing him, because he loves you, but he can’t make it work.

“I want… I want us both to be happy, you know that, right?” he says, his voice shaking. “I want… I want to give my career a try, and you want to take that job in Dublin, and I hope you know that I support you in this. I… You’re… you’ve always been fearless. And I want you to be free to do whatever you want in this life, I want you to find your own path. But above all, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. Do you understand? I support you in this, even if it means that we can’t be together, and I am not blaming you for it. It’s my fault as much as it is yours. Alright? Do you see what I mean?”

You nod, giving him a smile.

“Our lives are just… heading in opposite directions, but I really want you to be happy and brave and to do what you love most,” he repeats himself, as if to make sure you get it, as if he’s afraid you might imagine his feelings for you have changed, when they haven’t faltered at all. “Okay?”

Again, you nod, and silence settles in the room. You’re still holding hands, and you don’t want to let go, even when you speak once more.

“I don’t think we should stay friends, though,” you add, your voice shaking, but nonetheless, he doesn’t fail to recognize determination in your tone. “I mean… We still have feelings for each other. And we need to get on with our lives, get over this. And I don’t think I could get over you if we stayed in touch. So… I think it would be best if we broke up and… never saw each other again.”

He looks up at the ceiling to fight the tears that threaten to escape.

Outside, it’s raining. Late afternoon drenched with raindrops that paint strange patterns on the cold windowpanes. You haven’t turned on the light, despite the dark sky, and the light that comes in is dim, weak, almost trembling. You listen to the rain while Ben tightens his hold on your hand. You don’t want him to let go, but you know he will.

“Alright, as you wish.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I get it. I think… I think you’re right. In the end, it will be better if we don’t stay in touch.”

He doesn’t tell you that he simply… doesn’t want to get over you. Not yet, at least. But then, when he thinks about it, he reckons it’s normal. It’ll pass. Soon, he’ll want to get over you.

It’ll pass…

He gets up all of a sudden, without warning. He lets go of your hand, like you knew he would. It hurts the same, whether you were prepared for it or not…

He puts on his coat, bends to pick up his black umbrella stranded on the floor. Outside, it’s still raining. You hear someone shouting. Cars in the distance. A whole world you’re aware of.

He walks to the door, and he doesn’t turn around one last time when he speaks again. He knows you’re looking at him, he can feel your stare on his back. He knows he won’t have the strength to look at you like that…

“Goodbye, darling.”

Before you can reply, he’s opened the door, walked out, and disappeared.

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fic #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes series #fanfic #fanfiction #series #writing

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year

Text

The number of items you qualify for determines which circle of Hell you will end up in.

Here is a handy guide to see who you will be partying with in The Inferno.

First Circle: Limbo or "Heaven Lite."

Were you a decent person but forgot to get baptized? Welcome to Meh-ven. Not quite as good as Heaven, but you still get to live in a neat castle.

Second Circle: Lust or "Too horny for Heaven."

This circle is for those who banged their way through life. You are punished by being blown violently back and forth by strong winds, preventing you from finding peace and rest.

So, basically Chicago.

Third Circle: Gluttony or "You should have ordered a salad instead of that Bloomin' Onion."

I'm pretty sure this is the fat shaming Hell. You are overseen by a giant worm monster named Cerberus and placed into a large slushie machine. You must lie in frozen slush for eternity thinking about all of those hot dog eating contests you won.

Fourth Circle: Greed or "What? I gave $20 to the Red Cross every year!"

You are overseen by Pluto, the dog of Mickey Mouse. Or maybe the demoted dwarf planet. I honestly did not do enough research to be sure. Circle 4 is divided into people who spent too much and people who hoarded too much. They must push giant boulders at each other in a game of eternal rock jousting.

Fifth Circle: Anger or...

The angry must join a fight club and brawl each other atop the River Styx.

The grumpy must gurgle beneath the pugilists--submerged forever in that same river.

Sixth Circle: Heresy or "Ya know, I'm pretty sure the Earth revolves around the Sun. Hey, why is this priest placing me in shackles? It's just science, bro!"

Did you go against the Church? Well, for that they just straight up set you on fire. Not the most creative damnation, but I'm sure all of the flaming souls look neat from a spectator's point of view.

Seventh Circle: Violence or "Apparently, these things are all the same amount of bad... murder, suicide, and booty sex."

This circle is divided into three other circles. Which means there are 12 total circles. Which is confusing, but whatever.

In sub-circle 7a, you have the murderers. They are submerged in a river of blood that is also on fire.

Is blood flammable? Did Dante even try to set blood on fire before writing this? I'm thinking, no. YOU ARE TESTING MY SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF, DANTE.

In sub-circle 7b, you have people who have taken their own life. These folks are turned into shrubbery. Once in your final shrub form, this handsome harpy gal slowly eats you for eternity.

In sub-circle 7c, you have all of the anal fornicators. If you ever stuck it in a butt or had it stuck in your butt, you get to spend your afterlife in a desert of burning sand. And it is raining. So it is one of those rare rainy deserts I guess. Oh, but the rain is on fire.

WHY ARE SO MANY NON-FLAMMABLE THINGS ON FIRE, DANTE?

Eighth Circle: Fraud or "Is fraud really worse than murder?"

I'm going to be straight with you.

The eighth circle is a hot mess.

I'm pretty sure Dante was getting tired of creating new circles for every bad person, so he made a catchall for the villains that didn't quite fit into the previous circles and sub-circles. Instead of creating 10 sub-circles for the 8th circle, he decided to just throw everyone into their own hell ditch. These ditches are called Bolgias.

And now a Top Ten List from the home office in Wahoo, Nebraska.

Top ten types of people stuck in an eternal Bolgia ditch in the 8th circle of hell.

10. Falsifiers such as counterfeiters and wellness gurus. 9. Divisive individuals such as Fox News pundits and Chris Pratt. 8. Advisors such as self help authors and life coaches. 7. Thieves such as whoever created overdraft fees. 6. Hypocrites such as rich Pro-Lifers who have paid for several abortions for their mistresses. 5. Corrupt politicians such as (the list exceeded this post's maximum word count). 4. Wizards!

3. People who purchase pardons like pretty much anyone associated with Donald Trump. 2. Flatterers such as pick up artists and old ladies who tell me I am handsome in the grocery store. 1. Seducers such as people who have cake and want sex and are like, "Would you like some tasty cake in exchange for sex?"

Look, seduction is in the eye of the beholder and all I'm saying is cake would probably work on me.

Circle Nine: Treachery or "You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!"

Okay, so the 9th circle has 4 rounds.

Which sound an awful lot like circles.

Which brings us to 16 circles in the 9 circles of Hell.

I'm wondering if Dante named the book before he wrote it and everything was done with permanent ink so he couldn't change it.

The 9th circle has 4 frozen circles rounds, each dedicated to notorious traitors. Like a tribute to their epic level of sinfulness.

First up you have the Cain round. He was the first person to ever have a little brother and no one told him you can't just kill the little shit. People in the Cain round are encased up to the base of the neck, so they can still look around and stuff.

The second round is dedicated to Antenor. He was a Trojan. In reality, he negotiated peace with the Greeks. In myth, he opened the city gates and let the Greeks in so they could murder everyone. He was spared because he painted his house with panther blood.

"Panther Blood... 60% of the time it works *every* time." --Antenor

People here are encased to the top of the neck, so they are looking one direction forever.

Coming in round three we have Ptolemy. He didn't care much for his father-in-law, Simon Maccabaeus. So he invited Simon and his sons to a fancy banquet and Red Wedding'd the shit out of them. Ptolemy rounders are encased face-up in the ice just below eye level. That way, whenever they cry for being damned, their tears will freeze over. Over time those frozen tears create an ice visor that takes away the ability to weep ever again. And I'm guessing everything is real blurry too.

Round four is dedicated to the most infamous betrayer of all time. That's right, my favorite character in JC Superstar... Judas Iscariot.

youtube

Judas rounders are completely encased in ice. Permanently frozen and immobile with their bodies in every conceivable distorted and twisted position. Chances are, they have too much Heaven on their minds.

And in the very center of the nine-ish 16 circles of Hell, you have Satan himself. The fallen angel, Lucifer.

The story, as I like to imagine it, goes like this...

Lucifer was shooting the shit with the other angels and was all, "I could probably take God, right? He's not so tough."

And since a utopian existence is actually pretty boring and without drama, the other angels responded, "Absolutely! You've been working out and look totally jacked. You got this, dude." All while trying to hold in their laughter.

ANGEL PRANKS!

Lucifer then challenges God and gets instantly Thanos snap'd into a frozen lake. Lucifer sulks for all eternity wondering why those other angels told him he could whip God's metaphorical noncorporeal ass.

Satan is depicted as a hideous three-headed beast frozen up to his waist. He has six bat-like wings that flap and create a chilling breeze that keeps the ice frozen. Literally a hell of his own making. In each of Lucifer's mouths is a famous traitor being forever gnawed. History's most famous collective stabbers, Brutus and Cassius are being chewed in the left and right heads. And Judas is stuck in the viscous center maw while getting the world's worst backscratch from Satan's claws.

But wait, it gets racist!

Each devil head is a different color... Red for Europeans. Yellow for Asians. And black for Africans.

Dante, you little shit.

Alright folks, it is time to add up your totals. Which circle or sub-circle of Hell are you going to party in for eternity?

I'll do mine.

I am slightly homo for Chris Evans when he uses his biceps to curl a helicopter. I want him to hug me because I think he probably smells nice.

I do consider myself a feminist because I watched too many woke Disney films and I was indoctrinated by public schools.

I once ran out of RAM because I had too many tabs open in Chrome. I'm not sure if that qualifies me as a "porn freak" but I'm going to count it.

I smoked pot twice. The first time it made me feel like my head was full of bees and then I passed out for 12 hours. The second time I only inhaled once... and my head filled with bees and I passed out for 12 hours. Counting it.

When I was 18 my church's youth counselor matter-of-factly stated that my best friend was going to Hell. I thought, "That's silly, he's just a theater nerd who wore a floofy shirt and a Phantom of the Opera cape to school on multiple occasions. He's harmless and religion is dumb." So a big check for atheist.

I idolize my bestie Katrina because she is very good a puns. Is that worthy of idolization? Probably not. But I stand by it regardless.

And as far as masturbation goes... again, I ran out of RAM for having too many tabs open in Chrome.

I think I qualify for the seventh circle of Hell. I think I am going to engage in some mild thuggery so I can hang out in 7b as a nice shrub getting eaten by a harpy.

I realize there are only 12 options and 16 possible circles. So I have decided you may use a yoga pants multiplier.

1x if they are too tight but you went through tremendous effort to put them on so you are just going with it. 1x if they were acquired from an MLM mom on Facebook. 1x if they make that booty pop. 1x if they contain a pattern with as many non-complimentary colors as possible.

Welp. I put way too much effort into this.

I guess I'll see you all in Hell!

#long post

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thunck · 1 year

Text

I have played five hours of Dwarf Fortress every day for the last four days. It’s probably the greatest video game ever made.

My first two forts, Minefountains and Metalpulleys, were both on adjacent map tiles and both destroyed after slightly over a year by hordes of undead. This probably had something to do with the fact that I started a shitty militia of five dwarves approximately a year in, without constructing any defensive architecture or traps, both times.

Anyway, my third fort Bowloar (that’s “Bowl Oar”, which I guess could refer to like a giant ladle) is on year five and going strong, with no undead in sight. It is located on a tile adjacent to Metalpulleys.

To what do I attribute this success? Is it a total lack of militia, which the local necromancer could see as non-threatening? Is it the steady stream of visitors to our two bustling taverns, both filled with burly mercenaries, monster slayers and (primarily) naked foreign dance troupes? What about the airtight system of drawbridges over three-story pits ringed with weapon traps okay probably it’s that.

I mean, I don’t know that that’s a deterrent. I understand fortress wealth and notoriety is a factor in being besieged, but I don’t think it checks if there’s a single easily-pathable, easily-destroyed doorway protecting every suckling dwarven babe. Although knowing this game, maybe it does. It seems more likely that I’m 10 meters further away from the tower, and therefore outside of its Zone of Terror (tm).

Although Bowloar hasn’t been grabbed by ghouls, its defenses have been tested by the appearance of a giant.

This asshole is named Nikot. He has lived for 370 years (since before the dawn of civilization) doing nothing but fuck shit up. Today, he decides, is an excellent day to come fuck up some shit in the dwarven fortress of Bowloar.

I might be giving myself too much credit, actually. Probably this prehistoric ABDL enthusiast has literally just been wandering aimlessly since the dawn of time, and my shit is just in the path of today’s fuck-upping. Anyway.

The alert sounds that a Big Fucking Guy is here, and I immediately activate the emergency burrow and order all the drawbridge levers pulled. I take special care not to fling anybody haplessly walking over the bridge to their untimely demise or maiming, as has happened two (2) times upon activating the main drawbridges in the past. This is my third time activating the main drawbridges.

Nikot proceeds to kill a bunch of stuff in my walled-off outdoor pen (they used to be in an enclosed pen, but they ate all the grass and started fighting each other). The two adult yaks in there manage to wound him, and he wears himself out wrestling all these animals, but the fucker has a bottomless well of stamina and durability. He just takes a nap and keeps trucking.

While he’s napping in the pen I consider flooding it with water to try and drown him. I had just learned to route water underground to an indoor cistern just as he attacked. But that kind of engineering project is something you have to plan for, apparently. He hops over the wall and goes to meet one of my many visitors.

He wrestles a lady to the ground, gets her shield and greataxe off her, but succumbs to exhaustion before he can finish her off. She’s lying there bleeding out, and uses the last ounce of her strength to bite the shit out of his head over pages and pages of the combat report. Just a drop in the bucket for this fucking guy.

Nikot gets back up and spends all of autumn killing every visitor to the fort, including this year’s dwarven trade caravan. Just days of killing guys with his bare hands until he passes out from exhaustion and pain, they whale on him until they pass out as well, then he wakes up and slaughters them. The alerts above are from the second wave; all told he kills like 10 people, including exactly one unlucky fort resident. Everybody else is locked up inside, spending most of their time partying and hanging out like usual.

At this point Nikot has breezily wheeled around the fortress twice, killing scores of dudes and being uninterested in breaching my defenses. Finally he goes to cross the outer drawbridge after being baited by a cat, he dodges a weapon trap, Kirk-rolls into the pit and a rock falls on his head and he dies.

This is probably the kind of thing that just kills you no matter how big you are, but I feel like it helped that he got worn down by a solid three months of constant wrestling.

Somehow a baby yak and two geese evaded his initial onslaught on the pen. The geese maybe hid in the water, or else they didn’t piss him off for some reason. The baby was probably able to hide while he was passed out. He “didn’t feel anything while in conflict”, but is “indignant after being forced to endure the decay of a mother”. Which is fair enough, sorry about that little dude. He literally just got born, and then his mom explodes into a pile of viscera and hooves and he has to sit by the corpse while it rots.

It’s clear from this experience that combat can be a bit of a crapshoot, especially against a guy from the dawn of time (and this is probably one of the weaker, less crazy ones!). It’d still be nice to get a militia going soon, though, if only so I don’t feel so helpless.

Aaaand there’s another one. Good thing I rearmed those bridge traps!

#dwarf fortress #dwarves #dorf #giant #dwarf fortress stories #bowloar #this isnt even mentioning the werelizard child(!) that attacked right when Nikot showed up #she just killed two dudes turned back and left #I was really hoping for a Godzilla vs Kong situation but oh well

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tuulikannel · 1 month

Text

There was that reverse trope writing prompts thing I shared a little ago. The first one of them was "too many beds" and I started to wonder how to make a story out of that. It'd hardly be a problem to have more beds than necessary... right?

And then this happened.

(A little AssClass ficlet, starring Gakushuu and Karma.)

The Third Bed

Gakushuu sighed, placing down his bag. “It just figures, doesn’t it.”

“Hey, it could be worse!” Karma grinned at him. “If we were in some stupid romantic comedy, they would have had only a single room free, and we’d have to share a bed. Now we’ve got our pick!”

Gakushuu and Karma had travelled to Hokkaido to take part in a week-long math convention and competition, as the representatives of Kunugigaoka high. Unfortunately there had been a mess up with their hotel reservation, and their rooms had been given to others. As it turned out, the only free room was one with three beds, which they would have to share.

“True enough, I guess,” Gakushuu said. Oh well, maybe this wasn’t that bad. He would have preferred to have the peace of a room of his own, but perhaps he’d survive one week sharing a room with Akabane Karma.

Perhaps.

“Would you stop that?” he told the redhead who was moving from bed to bed, bouncing on all of them.

“I need to check them out!” Bounce. “How else can find out which one’s the best?” Bounce.

“They’re all the same! Just pick one, I don’t care. And let the third one be, we’re not supposed to use it.”

“Okay, okay. This is mine, then!” Karma threw his bag on one of the beds. “Hey, how about going sightseeing?”

“I need to practice…”

“The hell you do, you know everything. C’mon!”

Still grumbling, Gakushuu allowed himself to be dragged out of the hotel.

Next morning he woke up early in order to finish those preparations a certain redhead had kept him from the day before. Getting up he frowned as his eyes fell on the third bed.

“Karma!” he barked out. The red hair peeking from underneath a blanket twitched a little. “Karma, why have you used the third bed?”

“Wha…?” Sleepy eyes looked at him from underneath the blanket. “What?”

“The extra bed! Did you really have to test it again? You know we’re not supposed to use it!”

“What?” The redhead drew the blanket over himself, disappearing completely. “I’ve not, I’ve been slee-ahh,” a yawn, “…ping the whole night in my bed right here.”

Gakushuu glared at the lump in the bed, hands on his hips. “Then who has used it?”

The lump moved a little, maybe shrugging. “Dunno. Maybe you’re sleepwalking?”

Realizing Karma wasn’t going to confess, Gakushuu inspected the third bed carefully, hoping to find some red hair there. When that failed, he made it, still grumbling to himself.

Next morning, déjà-vu. “Karma!” Gakushuu exclaimed, exasperated, seeing the messed up bed.

“What?!” The redhead sat up on his bed, returning his glare. Gakushuu pointed at the bed and Karma fell back down on his, groaning. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but no! You’re not pinning that on me. Besides, it’s just a bed that someone’s used! They’ll probably anyway change the sheets once we go, so what does it matter?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this! It’s such a pointless—”

“I am not doing it!” Karma shouted. “Now shut up, I’m still going to sleep at least a couple of hours. In my own bed where I’ve stayed the entire night!”

Gakushuu bit his lip. True, it wasn’t any big deal. Still, he couldn’t understand why Karma would do something like this. As a prank, it was simply stupid.

Maybe Karma was the one sleepwalking?

Next night, Gakushuu set up a secret camera to film the third bed. This way he could show Karma who the true culprit was, and the redhead would not be able to deny it anymore.

In the morning when he woke he saw – this time to his satisfaction – that the bed had been used, once more. Very quietly he went to get the camera and started to fast-forward through the footage.

They were both staying in their beds quite peacefully late into the night. Then, suddenly, a figure appeared next to the third bed. Gakushuu gave a start, paused, and ran the recording back.

What?

He could still see himself and Karma sleeping in their own beds. But there appeared, out of nowhere, a third figure in the room… possibly a woman with long dark hair, dressed in white. She was climbing into the third bed.

As Gakushuu stared at the recording, his breath caught in his throat, the figure rolled over in the bed and looked up, straight into the camera, for the first time revealing its face. One impossibly wide eye stared straight into his from underneath long black bangs. The woman(?!?) opened her mouth, there was a glimpse of sharp teeth, a long tongue…

Gakushuu screamed. The camera dropped from his hands and he kicked at it, flinging it to the other end of the room.

“What?!” Karma bounced up on his bed. “What’s happening?”

Gakushuu didn’t pause to exclaim. He had already grasped his bag and was stuffing everything into it – his things, Karma’s, all the same. Just pack.

“We’re going!” he shouted at Karma. “Get up!”

“What?” the redhead repeated, frowning. “Hey, what’s wrong…?”

Gakushuu threw their bags out of the room and grasped Karma, dragging him out of bed. “Start moving!”

“What? Hey!” Karma attempted to object as he was being shoved out of the room. “Hey, I’m not even dressed! What are you…”

“We’re not going back into that room ever again!” Gakushuu pushed Karma’s clothes to him. “There’s a toilet down the corridor, you can change there!”

“What?” Still utterly confused, the redhead just stood there, his clothes in his hands. Gakushuu started pushing him away from the room. “But… where are we going…?”

“I don’t know! Away!”

“But this was the only free room…. And the other hotels are booked too! We can’t just…!”

“We’ll buy a tent and go camping! Now move!”

“But…!”

Gakushuu didn’t listen. Somehow he got Karma dressed and out of the hotel and what then happened I don’t know. Maybe Karma wanted to see that recording too, once Shuu calmed down enough to tell him about it. And maybe they’re both now cursed after seeing it? Maybe they do go camping, but there’ll be a third person sleeping with them there too...

#assassination classroom #akabane karma #asano gakushuu #my fics #or something #writing prompts #ghost story #fic only on tumblr

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hmshermitcraft · 1 year

Note

Weekly theme : Love Language

Premise : Polyhermits, Gem and Pearl introduce them to Love Languages

—

Now, the Hermits aren’t stupid, it’s just, they are occasionally very dense.

Gem and Pearl had introduced them to the concept of love languages when they had officially joined their large polycule.

For some Hermits—Cleo, it was easy enough to grasp and they were definitely someone who appreciates quality time.

Now, if only the rest of the server would—

Wels— no— acts of service doesn’t mean you devote your entire life to every Hermit— that’s really sweet of you but—

Jevin, words of affirmation are normally things like compliments and positive things— not insults!—

Aww, Hey, at least Zed, Impulse and Tango get it! Yeah, cuddling is part of physical touch!

No— Impulse— very romantic, but please don’t gift two thirds of everything you own to your boyfriends—

Tango— quality time usually doesn’t include your boyfriend being murdered over and over again by ravagers while testing out your game— but sure I guess.

~🎨 anon <3

What's a little harder to get them to understand - and maybe they should've seen it coming with how the hermits are - is that it isn't a competition. Love languages are supposed to be a way to better understand what you want to give and receive in a relationship! They don't need to be anything new. No, Doc, you do not need to see how many you can do in a day, that's not how this-

There's a scoreboard by the end of the week. Maybe they should just accept the server's love language is competition.

#hermitshipping #ask #gem tag #pearl tag #pearlgem #polyhermits #🎨 anon #mod 🎀#weekly theme: love languages

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insertdisc5 · 1 year

Text

Devlog #13: Achievements and Q&A (one more time)

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, a timeloop RPG, which is also the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!). You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!!

LET’S GET TO IT. This month has Steam achievements news, and a third round of Q&As!

I’m very happy to announce… THAT STEAM ACHIEVEMENTS HAVE BEEN IMPLEMENTED!!! That’s right, the true Gamers(™) among you will get to have fun trying to 100% the game.

But let me tell you, trying to make steam achievements work for RPGmaker was hell. I must’ve spent 3 months trying to make the (admittedly, somewhat easy) code work. Most plugins for it just use the magic sentence “refer to [someone’s plugin] for instructions on how to do it”, and guess what? SOMEONE’S PLUGIN ISN’T ONLINE ANYMORE. So I had to figure out how to make it work with the few crumbs I found on forums. And I still couldn’t make it work!!!

Thankfully, In Stars and Time’s programmer extraordinaire Isabella Ava took one look at it and figured it out instantly. And I tried it out. And it worked. And I yelled very loudly. Thanks Isabella for saving me again!!!

(pictured above: ISAT’s testing room, and steam achievements unlocking for the first time. Yes I took a screenshot and I was so happy the screenshot is a little cropped. Adds to the experience)

There’s currently 40ish achievements that can be unlocked in In Stars and Time, I hope you will have fun getting them all!!!

Overall, development is going well, from QA to localization to porting, and many things are in the works! Like, MANY things. I hope I get to share more with everyone soon because I am so excited for everyone to see what’s in store!!! Thank you for your patience!!!

…What? That’s it for this month? Well, no. Once again, it’s Q&A time! I asked the lovely people in In Stars And Time’s discord to send me some questions! So let’s get going! (Side note, you should join the discord channel teehee) ((Everyone is anonymous this time because it’s discord. Discord names are a very private thing.))

What's everyone's favorite food/animal/both? Which character do you like or relate to the most?

I answered food some time ago, so you get favorite animals! Siffrin likes cats because of course. Isabeau might actually prefers cats over dogs but its a close one. Mirabelle is a dog person. Odile is cats all the way. Bonnie is right in the middle. Wait, that’s just cats and dogs!!!!!!

As for which character I relate to the most: Siffrin :) Closely followed by Odile!

does anyone in the main cast know magic tricks/sleight of hand stuff? if so, what kind of tricks do they do? where did they learn them?

Siffrin for sure knows some coin tricks and maybe some sleight of hand, which they’d probably learn while traveling… Being a traveler means you gotta know some of those right??? It’s part of the mystique???

I also think Mirabelle and Isabeau would know some basic sleight of hand as well, just because I can easily imagine the House of Change having this as a class…

How do you write the name of the island east of Vaugarde? The map from devlog #10 makes it seem like it's M Wudu? (Similarly, how do you pronounce it?)

Mwudu! And as for pronunciation, hm… Maybe with a soft oo sound for the U letters in there? I wonder… (<- never pronounces things out loud)

Q: Does Odile have a massive collection of books back home? Are there certain books that she took with her on her travels, or had to leave behind? Same for Mira, if she has any books outside of her collection in the House.

I actually don’t imagine Odile having a massive collection of books, just because I imagine Ka Bue as having libraries that are easy to access… Like she definitely owns books, but not a massive collection or anything. She brought the one book with her (her weapon!) but it’s more of a notebook than a book. But also if you ask me in a month I might go "she obviously has 300 books at home"

As for Mirabelle, her room is her home, so she doesn’t have anywhere else to put her books!

are there any deaths that are random chance? if so how would that be programmed?

also. what ARE the gang's favorite books

No, not really! Mostly because it would be very fun from a story perspective, but hellish from a gameplay perspective. Dying for reasons that are just Numbers Said So and this can happen at any time is not very fun as a player! What about my sense of control!!! So, when you die in ISAT, you will know why. HOWEVER, a bunch of events are random chance <3

And Mirabelle’s favorite book is a book series called The Cursing of Château Castle. I’m freestyling for the rest of these: Isabeau would say it's some book like “How To Get Bigger Muscles For Dummies'', somehow I’m certain Siffrin’s favorite book is a memoir of some kind or a poetry book, and Bonnie’s favorite book is the current most popular comic book for kids in Vaugarde. Odile’s is a secret <3

Q: Are there any bugs you've made into features?

alternative Q: What do the characters think about freeze tag?

YES!!!!! YOUR QUESTION IS SO GOOD IM MAD I CAN’T SPECIFY HOW… PLEASE ASK ME AGAIN WHEN THE GAME COMES OUT <3 Without giving away too much, there’s a couple events in the game that are here because of a bug that I thought added a lot to the atmosphere <3

Most of the gang are adults so they do not think about children’s games. However I imagine that for most kids in Vaugarde, freeze tag is the new fun game to play. Maybe they’d call it King instead. Who’s the King? Don’t get tagged by the King or you’re gonna be frozen!!! (Bonnie doesn’t want to play tag anymore.)

what & when was your first exposure where you went: "time to make a game"? im just wondering what got you started

would there be an official subreddit for the isat community? i dont really use reddit much anymore but its something that croessed my mind a while back and by that i mean would there be official support for it or would it just be supported by fans?

whats your favorite track from the prologue?

A lot of things made me start making the prologue and then ISAT, but really: boredom from the pandemic teehee.

A subreddit… That’s a neat idea!!! If enough people are into it, that’s definitely something we’d consider, so if you want that you should make some noise :3

As for tracks, I genuinely think every single track Studio Thumpy Puppy has made is a 10/10, but the King’s battle theme holds a special spot in my heart… And Long Journey too ;w; And that’s not counting the tracks from ISAT which are just All Bangers All The Time (pst go get the prologue’s soundtrack here)

1. What’s something about working on the game or the prologue that was more difficult than you thought it would be?

The… scope… I truly intended to have both the prologue and ISAT to be very short experiences, and they became way bigger than I envisioned! I did know they were going to be bigger than I thought, but They Sure Are Bigger Than I Thought. For example, I intended the prologue to be a 30mn experience… And it ended up being a couple hours long teehee

with a scale from 1 to 10 how much will the poor guy suffer in the game

Aiming for 11 baby

You got to the bottom of this devlog! Have a Silly Little Picture, which I sent as payment to everyone on discord who sent in a question

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

#in stars and time #devlog #indie dev #game dev #start again start again start again #video game

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stories-and-chaos · 23 days

Text

Tarnished pt. 30

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 30/?? Word count: 2376]

—————

That left the imp twins together. Barb laced her claws behind her head as they ambled away from the tent. “Sooooo, whadda we do?”

“I guess, check out the fair?” Blitzø hadn’t been left to his own devices at a public event ever before and was at something of a loss. The Pain Games didn’t start for a couple hours but there were presumably other things before that.

The booths set up had foods, carnival games, and the livestock and crops up for judging. Blitzø spotted a shooting gallery amid the line of games. “Fuck yes, bet I can get a better score than you Barb.”

She saw what he was heading to and scoffed. “In your dreams Blitzø. Lemme show you how it’s done.” They both grabbed a rifle and started firing at targets. At the end of the round, Blitzø had two more hits than his sister.

He was not a gracious winner. “Ooohhhh yeah! That’s how it’s done! Who’s the imp?! This guy!” After a few celebratory hip thrusts, Barb punched his shoulder .

“We’re just getting started.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him to a strength test game. “Show me whatcha got bro,” she challenged, holding out the comical large hammer.

“Just sit back and watch.” Blitzø steadied himself with the mallet and swung the giant head onto the target. The slider launched up the meter to gently ring the bell at the top. “Ha! Beat that sis.”

Barb nodded sagely as she took the mallet. “Not bad, not bad.” She settled her feet in a similar stance to Blitzø. Her swing slammed the mallet onto the target and the resulting bell ring sounded out over the fairground. “That’s how it’s done. Who’s got two thumbs, a perfect bod, and is totally the imp? This girl.” She pointed both thumbs at herself while grinning triumphantly.

The next hour was spent with the twins trying to one up each other at the different games. They stopped keeping score halfway through but ended up with arms full of prizes. After they’d tried every game they could, they relaxed by the livestock judging. Barb chomped away at a caramel apple while Blitzø spent a blissful quarter hour watching the Hellhorses being awarded ribbons.

Then it was time to head back. The Pain Games were starting soon and Blitzø had to be on duty. They slipped into Stolas’ tent, dumping the spoils of their victories inside. “My goodness you two,” the Prince said as a small wave of toys and snacks took over the floor. “You appear to have looted an entire video arcade here.” He delicately picked up a fuzzy string with two oversized eyes attached. “I don’t even know what half of these things are.”

“These are the fruits of our labors, our just rewards for victory.” Blitzø opened up a packet of cotton candy and shoved a handful in Stolas’ mouth. “And some are fucking delicious, okay?” He split the rest in half, giving some to Barb as he tore a chunk of the sugary treat off with his teeth. “I need some fuel to get me through standing around all day and half the night. You wanna stick around here Barb or find the others?”

“Or you could enter the Games. It’s open to all…it’s open to imps,” Stolas added with a sheepish look. He knew Blitzø would have been thrilled to compete if he wasn’t stuck at the Goetia’s side the whole time.

“Eh, maybe. Might just chill with Dina. You boys do your thing.” Just having fun with Blitzø had been unexpectedly nice. But being here with him and Stolas, she felt like a third wheel. She didn’t want to deal with all her thoughts on that. Best to just get out.

Looking around the crowd outside, Barb realized she didn’t have a chance of finding her brother’s imp employees. She was better off looking for the Hounds. She was scanning over the cowboy hats and horns when a ripple through the crowd knocked her off balance. She windmilled her arms for half a second before years of acrobatic practice took over. She stopped trying to right herself and turned the tumble into a handspring.

That earned her chorus of ‘ooohs’ and impromptu applause. There was just enough of a performer in Barb that she gave a dramatic bow. “Oh, there she is!” a cheerful voice with a country twang to it called out. The imp woman she met briefly popped out of the crowd waving at her.

“Hey, Barb, right?” The smaller woman trotted up to her, all smiles and welcome. “Didn’t get a chance to talk before, I’m Millie. Care to watch with us while the boss is busy?”

“Sure. You’re not competing?” She let Millie lead the way to a spot in the stands.

“I wish! Ma said I can’t anymore, too many casualties last time.” The tone of a disgruntled kid was evident in her voice. “I only caused half of ‘em too.”

“Mildred you caused well more than half over all the years you’ve been in the Games.” A stout older woman with a clear resemblance to Millie scolded her as they joined the group. “The Ring is gonna run out of anyone to be hands at this rate.” The male imp next to her nodded with an affirmative grunt.

“Fiiiine, I’ll sit out just this year. Ma, Daddy, this here’s Barb, our boss’s sister. She’s watching with us while Blitzø’s busy.” Millie’s mom responded with a “nice to meet ya” before turning back to her daughter. It was obvious she had more on her mind to say but the girl didn’t give her a chance. She hauled Barb up a few more bleachers and secured a seat next to her coworker.

Barb got a spot between Millie and an unfamiliar male imp; Dina was on the bleacher right behind her. She talked with the Hellhound for a bit, mostly griping about fellow patients. At a lull in their chat, the imp next to her introduced himself.

“So you’re from Sloth? That’d be why I didn’t recognize you; thought I knew all the tough imps in this Ring. Name’s Striker, what’s yours little lady?” The imp gave her a confident grin, admiration and avarice in his eyes.

“Barb.” She smiled back, putting as much sharpness as her namesake into it. “I’m from a little bit of all over, been staying in Sloth for a while.” She gave Striker an appraising look over. He was attractive, on the tall and lanky side of the scale. Even seated, he held himself with a rough confidence. His concentric ringed eyes seemed to bore into whatever he focused on.

Something about his expression was a hair off. Maybe it was paranoia on Barb’s part. Or maybe it a look she recognized from all those years of being around desperate, strung out demons. Either way, it made her spines prick even as he shifted to a more flirtatious tone.

“Saw a bit of you at the shooting gallery, and that bit of fancy flipping down there. Not bad, I gotta say.” Stolas emerged from his tent then, taking the microphone from the announcer. He started his welcome speech; Barb saw Blitzø and Loona behind him. Loona looked bored while Blitzø was watching the crowd. Striker looked from Barb to Blitzø and back again. “Say, any connection between you and the Goetia’s boyfriend there?”

Millie popped her head around Barb’s shoulder. “Actually, she’s-“ Barb cut her off. “We’re related.” She couldn’t deny the resemblance but didn’t want to elaborate further, especially not to a stranger that put her on edge. No matter how sexy he was.

Striker shrugged. “Fair ‘nough. I’d best get down there if I’m gonna win this thing.” He sauntered away; as he did so, Barb caught a faint glimmer of pure white light when he adjusted his jacket.

After a moment, Barb hopped up. “I think I’ll try this thing too.” Millie and Dina cheered her on while Moxxie sulked. She joined the group of participants. Even behind his ridiculous shades, Barb could see her twin’s surprise.

“Ah, glad to see you join in,” Striker said with a self satisfied look as she walked up beside him. “I’ll tell you right now, I don’t go easy on anyone. Not even a pretty face like yourself.”

“Wouldn’t expect it anyway,” Barb replied with a bite to her words. “I don’t hold back either cowboy.” The starting pistol fired and the throng of competitors was off. Through the obstacle course, mud wrestling, shark wrangling and other events, Barb and Striker were neck and neck.

It felt like a repeat of her impromptu competition with Blitzø earlier. They traded wins back and forth until: “For the first year ever, we have a tie!” Stolas called out to the cheering crowd. “The winners are Striker and Barbie Wire!” He gave a gracious bow as they climbed the stage. Blitzø, from directly behind Stolas and out of the crowd’s view, gave her a quick grin of excitement and a double thumbs up.

Feeling embarrassed, Barb gave the crowd a wave before quickly getting off the stage. Fortunately, Striker was stealing the show. “I’d like to take this opportunity to sing a quick song I wrote just now, about me winnin’.” As he strummed a chord on the guitar handed to him, a yell of “OH WHAT THE FUCK?!” came from the stands.

Glad to be out of the spotlight, Barb rejoined Dina and the others. “Congrats Barb!” Millie clapped excitedly as she approached. “You were amazing out there! Watching you just ‘bout made sitting out worth it!” The rest of Millie’s family added stoic praises. Moxxie congratulated her too before returning to a small notepad he was jotting something down on.

“Hey, can I grab a couple pages?” Bard asked, wanting to make notes of her own before she forgot. Moxxie obliged with a few sheets and a spare pen. She finished her notes quickly before food started being brought out for the attendees.

As demons milled around, grabbing food that was mostly served skewered or fried, the orange sky slowly dimmed. Striker brought Barb a hunk of roasted meat on a skewer. “Killed it fresh myself this mornin’. Best way to enjoy a Hell beast.” He shot a smug look in Moxxie’s direction. The smaller imp glared back. Not my problem, Barb thought as she accepted the food.

Striker leaned back onto the stands. “You did damn good out there, congrats.” Barb congratulated him back and he continued on. “Not often you meet imps as strong as us. Whaddya say we get together sometime? With the adoring crowd or puffed up royals around?”

Jackpot. “I was thinking the same thing.” She pulled out a page she hadn’t written on yet and wrote out her cell number. “Give me a call, cowboy.” She bit into the skewered meat suggestively before walking away.

The rest of the festivities continued without issue. Stolas revealed the Harvest Moon to the awe of the gathered imps. After the display, alcohol started being brought out. That was Barb’s cue to leave; she was staying off all substances right now. No point in ruining her progress. Fortunately, Stolas’ duty was finished so he and Blitzø could make their exit.

Blitzø saw her back to Sloth and her dorm. The prince had offered her a ride but she turned him down. She wasn’t comfortable being in close proximity to the royal, at least not yet. So she and her twin headed back on foot. Blitzø applied his illusion as soon as he could; both twins relaxed a little once he was sporting the black marking.

After an elevator ride and a brisk walk with her brother chattering about how amazing she’d been at the Pain Games, Barb felt all her exhaustion hit. “Might’ve gone too hard there,” she muttered to no one as she flopped onto her bed. But before she could pass out, there were the notes she’d written.

The pages had rough sketches and a few key words scribbled. Looking them over and refining the drawing, she had an image of a knife hilt. She’d caught little glimpses of it under Striker’s jacket. She hadn’t seen the blade itself but had gotten glimmers of pure white light from inside the sheath.

“Why would a ranch hand have an angelic weapon?” A mystery. And maybe linked to the look in Striker’s eyes; banked anger and avarice. Now she just needed to wait for Striker to call.

————

“Well?”

“Like I thought ma’am, the prince’s pet was glued to his master’s side the whole time. Not even getting on the same stage got me a chance to meet him. Plenty of chances to kill the pricks though.”

“Ugh, I’m not paying you to have fun at festivals. I need results.”

“Oh I still got results. I got the phone number of a particular imp tonight. She told me to call her.”

“I’m not interested in your romantic conquests! If you aren’t taking this seriously, you can say goodbye to any payment from me.”

“Don’t get your feathers in a twist ma’am. This imp happens to be related to your husband’s toy. His twin sister if I’m right. And he seems eager to be on her good side.”

“Well, you surprise me darling. This may work better than my original plan. Keep me updated, your payment is being sent over. Ta darling!”

Striker hung up with a snort. The royal’s tendency to abruptly end their conversations was a given by now. He twirled his angelic steel knife in a practiced manner. He’d killed a royal with it before and was looking forward to the next one. Being able to kill that traitorous ass kisser would be a bonus.

He’d wait a couple days, then message Barb. Best to keep a girl waiting, just long enough to make her a little anxious to see him.

—————

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#helluva fanfiction #helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva au #blitzo #blitzo x stolas #helluva stolitz #helluva stolas #barbie wire #moxxie and millie #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #helluva loona #helluva striker #helluva stella

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docholligay · 4 months

Note

Consider a setting where graduating from a certain school gives you the right to wield political power on a national level, depriving everyone who doesn’t attend of the right to vote, but the bottom third students of every year get transformed into magical slaves. How terribly would the Senshi or Overwatch crew handle that?

Okay, so, let's get this out of the way first: WHAT THE FUCK.

Now that we've taken that important break, let's think about this.

Do we know what they teach at this school? Because I think that would be a large part of my decision for this. Some of the cannier players in the game would enter if they thought they stood a chance, but by the very nature of the thing they ALSO know that the best of the best are going to go here. Do you think you're in the top 66% of 1000 driven and probably proven intelligent people? I mean, I probably would be like, "I guess I am a voteless worker bee."

So, for the purposes of this question, we'll assume it's a standard high school type setup, with, fuck, I'm just doing this for the purposes of answering. We'll use what was the AP track for each at my high school, because, well, I'm familiar with it.

Math : Algebra, Geometry, Trig, Calc

Science: Earth, Biology, Chemistry, Physics

English: Four years of upper level Literature courses focusing on analysis and knowledge of the canon.

History: (Insert country of origin here), Government, World i, World ii

Language: Four years of a language, I took Spanish.

And then we can make space for other shit. We had 6 periods a day, but not every day had to be the same. Whatever, we'll go with the guideline.

SAILOR MOON

Rei goes because Rei has never been humble for even one moment in her life, and also she wants to boss the entire country around. She knows that she is going to be in the top 66%, and also probably graduate first in the class, she's just that smart. Is she though???? We don't see one way or the other, and I think of her as a sort high-middling student, and in an environment like this one, I could see her maybe ending up on bottom.

Minako would never do it unless she was sure she could find a good way to cheat on everything. Minako's not stupid, but I do think she can be a little intellectually lazy. Sitting down and actually doing the work would take her aback a little bit, but I also think she knows that and also isn't too proud to admit, to herself at least, that she might be in danger there.

Michiru's family has so much money and influence that even if she can't vote, she can vote, so I don't see her willingly putting herself through that.

Haruka would not attend, but it would only be because Minako stopped her from some desperate and quasi-suicidal jaunt to prove herself worthy or some shit. She knows its dumb, Mina knows its dumb, but here she is, signing up for it! It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Overwatch:

Lena has laughed herself out of the building already. Thanks but no thanks. Voting isn't worth the entirety of a physics class and having to do well in it on top of everything else. She'll go wash glasses in a pub if she has to, goodbye.

Fareeha acknowledges that it is a difficult task, and it will encourage a high level of competition, but luckily, rigorous testing of her abilities is a boon in her eyes. She spends long nights studying and sharpening her acumen. Literature is never her strongest class, and she does worry about it, but she gets it together just fine, and is strong enough in everything else.

Mercy is the sort that is more than smart enough for this sort of thing, but I don't know that she would want to sign up for it because it just seems cruel. It seems wrong. She will, of course, be talked into taking a spot, because better someone with her scruples than someone chomping at the bit to have the power.

Dva is following Lena out the door but she's posting the whole reel to TikTok, including she and Lena popping babychams in the parking lot.

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etaleah · 8 months

Text

My Sonic Predictions and Hopes for 2024

Admittedly some of these are things I want to see happen rather than things that are likely to happen, but what the heck, I’ll list ‘em out and see if any of them end up coming true. 🤷🏻‍♀️

A one-shot for the comics involving either springtime or Valentine’s Day. I think spring is more likely since (1) they’re avoiding romance and Valentine’s Day is a romantic holiday, and (2) having a springtime one-shot nicely follows the trend of having Endless Summer and Winter Special one-shots.

I’m pretty pessimistic about the third movie still happening in 2024 given how stubborn the studios are being about the strikes, so I’m guessing the release date will be pushed back to 2025. However, I do think 2024 will bring us a trailer/teaser with some news about casting and whether any new characters besides Shadow will feature.

Part 3 of Sonic Prime, which will likely involve something bad happening to Shadow for reasons explained here. PLEASE LET THIS ONE BE TRUE I NEED PART 3 NOW

A DLC, update, or some kind of “Plus” pack for Sonic Superstars since that seems to be the trend now.

I doubt we’ll see much more for Frontiers since it won’t really be a new game anymore and will have already had a big update. Maybe a few minor tweaks like a new outfit or pair of shoes.

A new Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Games title since 2024 will have the Paris Olympics.

More Sonic Symphony tour dates, one of them probably being New York since that’s a really big city for them to leave out.

More merchandise, possibly featuring Shadow to tie in with the third movie.

The Knuckles TV show released on DVD (hopefully).

The comics will take a darker turn again. They seem to alternate between dark, serious arcs and fun, light-hearted arcs. Right now, they’re on Misadventures, which is fun and light-hearted, so I suspect that at some point in 2024, things will turn serious again.

I also suspect that Starline might be revealed to have survived after all, but that could just be wishful thinking on my part since I like his character and was sad to see such a cool villain go so quickly.

Another visual novel or some kind of storybook thing that builds on the success of Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. No way is something that successful gonna be a one-time deal.

A remaster or re-release/port of an older game. The titles I think are most likely are Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic Heroes, and Sonic and the Black Knight. Adventure 2 would tie nicely into the release of the third movie (especially if they’re adapting its storyline) and they clearly know how popular it is since they released a new figure for it and put City Escape in one of their other games. Heroes is possible since it’s 20+ years old, had some songs included in Frontiers, and the franchise as a whole seems to be leaning toward having more playable characters and team/partner-based play. Murder and Superstars lean into this hard, Origins added Amy, and Frontiers will soon have other playable characters too, so I think they’re testing the waters for a game with an ensemble cast. The launch of the Fast Friends comic series on their socials also shows a lean in this direction. Black Knight is possible since 2024 would be the game’s 15th anniversary, the storybook setup was well received in Murder, and they seem to be calling attention to it by putting its characters in their mobile games.

Again, these are just guesses and I could be wrong about all of them. We shall see… 👀

#sonic the hegehog #sonic franchise #sonic games #sth #sonic movie #sonic comics #sonic idw #sonic prime #shadow the hedgehog #sa2 #sonic heroes #satbk #sonic frontiers #murder of sonic the hedgehog #sonic superstars #mario and sonic at the olympic games

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transandersrights · 1 year

Note

Got a prompt for you!

Handers-

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Longer than you'd like."

I realised today that this fill has been done for like. Weeks. And I forgot to post it. Sorry!!

(For reference, I take fic requests! Info here)

“How long have you been standing there?” Anders looked devastated. He clearly knew that no matter how long it was, he’d been caught in the act.

“Longer than you’d like.”

It wasn’t that Hawke was surprised. He’d known, coming down here, that there was something up. If Anders hadn’t been so off lately, if the shadows of the Gallows didn’t stretch all the way to Hightown, maybe he wouldn’t have checked.

But he had to. And now he knew.

“I guess the game is up.” Anders put down his concoction; his bomb, because why else would he be testing explosives in the ‘Blight-proof’ cellar? “I suppose it makes a few things a little easier.”

Anders' face had shuttered. Hawke tried not to read too much into what it meant. “What things?”

“Well, I can’t exactly plant this anymore.” Anders looked so… defeated. Hawke hated it. He hated all of this, everything Kirkwall had done to him but especially everything it had done to Anders.

Hawke looked at the bomb. He looked at Anders. “Where were you going to plant it?”

Anders sighed. “It’s going to sound pretty foolish now I know I can’t.” “Now, when did I ever say that?”

Anders looked at him, surprise burning behind his eyes. Hawke held his gaze. “What?”

Hawke glanced around the cellar, found the closest surface that looked vaguely like he could sit on it, and planted himself down on top. The wood groaned ominously, but held, which was good because this was serious and Hawke really didn’t fancy looking stupid in front of Anders right now.

“I meant what I said,” Hawke continued. “I never told you that you couldn’t plant it. I just want to know where you were putting it.”

Anders sighed, then shook his head. “I can’t— you’re mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.”

“You—” Anders’ skin crackled blue, just for a moment. “Forgive me if that’s a little hard to believe.”

And wasn’t that a stab to the heart? No arguing with a lack of trust, he supposed, but if there was anyone who was more stubborn than Anders, it was probably Hawke. “What can I do to make you believe?”

Anders faltered. He sighed again, the weight of the world ever heavy around obsidian-dusted shoulders. “You’ve already given your word and your love. How can I ask for more?”

“Ask for more.” Ask for anything. Hawke would give it, if it would get Anders to speak with this kind of energy for even a fraction of the week. “Ask me to help you.”

This time, Anders flinched. “No.”

Hawke tipped his chin up, maintaining the eye contact. “So you don’t want to believe me?”

Anders shook his head, paused, and sighed a third time. “No, I mean— Maker’s incorporeal crotch. Hang on.” He pulled up a suspicious crate of his own and sat down. “I want to trust you. I do. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

Anders was clever; he’d positioned the damn crate just outside of Hawke’s easy range of movement. If he wanted to put a hand on Anders’ knee, he’d have to be really damn awkward about it.

But this was Anders. Hawke had been nothing but really damn awkward about this whole thing, and he’d parade naked in front of Meredith before abandoning something that had got him this far. He shuffled his crate closer to Anders’, then stretched. His shoulder clicked, but fuck it. His hand was on Anders’ knee, and Anders jumped.

“You really want to know, don’t you?” he asked. He sounded almost defeated about it all. Like telling Hawke why he was testing explosives, preparing a bomb he’d actively lied about, was the worst possible outcome here.

“Of course I want to know.” He also wanted to know how well it could be expected to work, but maybe another time.

“Alright.” Anders grit his teeth and smiled a small, painful smile. “I was going to plant it under the Chantry.”

Of course. Oh, of fucking course. It all made sense when he said it — where else would it go? It couldn’t go under the Gallows, because it would hurt the mages in the Circle. It couldn’t go on the docks that went out to the Gallows, because it would hurt the people of Lowtown; or, worse, the undercity.

“No better place for it,” he said, shooting Anders something that approximated a grin. He didn’t get much of one in return, but it didn’t matter for now. “When… were you going to tell me?”

Anders ducked his head. “When it went off. So you couldn’t be blamed for the crime.”

“Anders,” he replied, and he did everything he could to make his tone gentle. Anders still didn’t look up, sitting on that crate like he was awaiting the executioner’s blade. Hawke couldn’t take it; he hooked a finger under Anders’ chin, raising his gaze so their eyes could meet again. “I wouldn’t want that.”

“I couldn’t just tell you. You’d be slaughtered on the spot if anyone had an inch of suspicion that you knew.”

“What, and I was meant to watch you be slaughtered instead?”

Anders tore his head away from Hawke’s touch. He was shaking. When his next words came out, they were inaudible. He sounded wrecked.

“Anders?” His eyes didn’t rise. “Please, love.”

“You were meant to do it yourself,” Anders said, voice hollow. Hawke’s blood very nearly ran cold.

“Never.”

“You can say that now, but when it happens…”

“Never.” Hawke seized Anders’ hands, and thankfully he didn’t pull away. “Never. You have my promise and my blessing.”

Anders startled. “Blessing?”

“Of course.” Hawke ran his thumbs over Anders’ knuckles, pressing warmth into joints that were far stiffer than Anders ever wanted to admit to. “Blow it into the skies. Submit yourself to my judgement, and I'll kiss you on the ashes. We’ll fight our way out of the city if we have to.”

“You—” Anders shook his head in disbelief, but not despair. Slowly, a smile broke onto his face. “I should have known, really. It’s why I love you.”

Hawke let every moment of the swooping feeling in his chest course through him. “I love you too, Anders. Never forget that.”

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