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lostfirefly · 1 month

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Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.9)

I'm dying to share the new chapter with you! The idea for this chapter visited me at the very beginning of the story. And maybe it is a bit bad, but I wanted to include it in one of the chapters :) I also like the idea that for the girl he loves, Buggy would do anything. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Catherine's trapped. Will Buggy save her?

Warnings: Fun, fluff, arguing, sadness (have some tissues ready), adventure, inappropriate jokes, swearing (as always). Shitty shit again:)

Words: 4251

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did you do?” Buggy stared at the bars. His eyes were wide and jaw dropped.

“I didn't do anything! I just ran my hand along the wall.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t run your hands along these fucking walls? Maybe you stepped on something there?” He tried to pull the bars. “Not moving! Fuck!! Can you get through these things?” He examined the gate from floor to ceiling.

“Are you kidding me?” Catherine tried to push herself between the bars. “Of course not. Look at the walls, maybe there are some drawings or something else there.”

Catherine examined the walls from her side, Buggy checked the walls from the other side.

“Nothing! I see nothing!” There was panic in his voice. “What should I do?”

“What?”

“You always tell me what to do. Look at this, Buggy. Click on this, Buggy. Put your pants on, Buggy. That's why we got this far. You're the only reason we got all the pieces of the fucking sceptre together. I couldn't have done it alone. I don't have too many brains.” He scratched his head. “Wait! Did you take an axe or something else?”

“The axe. Here!” She quickly pulled out a hatchet from her bag and gave it to him.

“Move away!”

“But...”

“Catherine, motherfucker, move away!” Buggy growled through his teeth.

“Don't get mad!” She barked back.

“I’m not mad!”

“You call me by my full name, that means you're angry at me!” Catherine said loudly and came closer to the grate.

“Seriously? You want to talk about this now? Well, okay! What kind of reaction were you expecting? We're somewhere at the bottom of the fucking pyramid, where even tourists don't go. You're sitting in some fucking Egyptian bullshit because of your curiosity. I cannot get you out. Why wouldn't I be angry? Move away!”

Catherine pressed herself closer to the corner and watched as Buggy hit the goal with his pickaxe several times with all his might.

“It doesn’t open! Why doesn’t it open?” He kicked the gate angrily.

“Buggy, stop. It cannot be opened. It’s a fucking trap.” Catherine whispered and closed her eyes. “That's it, I'll die here.”

“What? No! There must be a way out. Are you planning to stay there? No way! I cannot lose you too!” Buggy looked around the walls.

“I don't like to be a pessimist, my love. But you can't open it. This is perhaps some old punishment cell for thieves, or maybe a place for errant slaves. Which does not open like a regular door. Sometimes the guilty were released into such cells and they simply waited for their end.” Catherine walked up to the bars, leaned her back against the wall, and sank to the ground. “I don't know. I'm sorry.” She said quietly.

“For what?” Buggy sat down opposite the grate, leaning on another part of the wall.

“For dragging you here. For appearing in your life at all. If it weren’t for me, you'd be partying with some girl on the loose right now.” Catherine bent her legs and rested her forehead on her knees.

“Cotton candy,” Buggy slipped his hand between the bars and took her hand. “I'm not very good at this romantic stuff of yours. But don't apologize for showing up in my life, please. You… Y-You're the best gift of fate for a pathetic loser like me.”

“You're not a loser.” Catherine replied quietly, running her finger along his arm. “Try to find a way out. I'll die here in a few days. You'll find yourself another girl and live with her. And in your head, I'll remain just some girl who stupidly walked into a small room and got stuck in it forever.”

“Are you out of your mind? Why would I want another girl? No one will piss me off and amuse me at the same time the way you do.” He grinned, resting the back of his head against the wall and exhaled. “You made me pancakes.”

“What?” Catherine raised her head.

“Well, you keep cracking up and wanting to know when I.. when I fell in love with you. Remember, after our adventure, I took you and your sister back to my house.” Buggy leaned closer to the grate and rested his head on it.

“Yeah.”

“After the first night…”

“I'm surprised you didn't hit on me, by the way.” Catherine giggled and saw him start to blush.

“Damn! Do you want to know the story, or are you just gonna mock me?” He glanced at her and his cheeks burnt.

“I wanna know! Let this be the last good story.” Catherine squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

“Nah, my little pie, there will be many more. So… Don't interrupt. I'm having a hard time telling it. I woke up the next morning because I smelled something yummy in the kitchen.”

“Why am I not surprised you fell for the food?” She ran the tips of her fingers over his knuckles.

“Fuck you, honestly. Why do you always do this? Ok. I didn't realize what the smell was at first. So I walked into the kitchen, and there you were in your zebra pajama pants cooking me pancakes. You were humming a song while you were making them. You still do it, by the way. I call it “a pancake song.”

“You're so cute. And I’m humming? Really? Didn't notice.” Catherine felt Buggy's hand start shaking during the story and began stroking her thumb over his arm.

“Yes, you are. Well.. I remember you turned around to me with a plate, smiled and told me to sit down to breakfast. And I.. I looked at you and thought, “fuck, I.. I love her! I wanna wake up in the same bed with her, be in her arms, see her smile, see stupid pants with animals and eat these pancakes for the rest of my life.” Embarrassment made Buggy redder than his nose. “May I say no more?”

“I remember that morning, too. You piled into the kitchen, suffering from a hangover, wearing only your pajama pants. So hot and sexy. But I really didn't think you were happy that I was there.” Catherine looked at him with the corner of her eye.

“I'm not a complete jerk, cotton candy. Come on! The most beautiful girl in the world is sleeping at my place and then making me breakfast. Usually the girls just ran away in the morning while I was still sleeping.”

“Okay, it should be fair play. Do you want me to confess? I wanted to come over to your couch on the first night. But my sister kept talking, and I couldn't leave. All I could think was, “shut up, I love him and I want to tell him that right now”. And when I came out to see you, you were already asleep.”

Buggy giggled and scratched the back of his head. “I didn't sleep then. I was.. I was under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Well. I liked you, so I.. I don't know. I heard your footsteps and got scared. I couldn't think of anything better than lying still on the bed.”

“You're unbelievable.” She laughed and cleared her throat. “Listen, can you tell me one more story? How do you get out of jail? And why do you keep that prison photo in your wallet? But if you're not ready, that's okay. Tell this to my mummy later.”

“I don't keep that photo in my wallet. I just hid it. I don't know, I was afraid you'd find it and leave me. But you're not gonna get off my back on the prison thing, are you? Well…” Buggy squeezed her hand, and scratched his cheek with his other hand. He exhaled and told the story of the escape.

Catherine couldn't stop laughing. “First, I won't leave you until I’ll die in this cage. Second. Really? You had help from a sixteen-year-old kid? The great clown Buggy had teamed up with a teenager. Delightful! And that's how that wax man knows you.” She looked at his face, which was all red with embarrassment, and stroked his hand.

“Fuck you. Stop laughing at me!” He scowled.

“I’m not! Thanks for telling me. Too bad you can't split up and sneak in here. I'd hug you goodbye. I’m so happy I met you. I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear. Remember that, okay?”

“I love y~… Cathie-pie. Wait!” Buggy got up abruptly from his seat and ran somewhere.

“What?” Catherine got up off the floor and tried to poke her head between the bars. “Ouch! Where are you?”

“There's something here!” He shouted out of the darkness.

“What's in there? I can barely see anything out here. Do you have some kind of clown night vision or something?”

“Shut up! I don't know, some kind of shit.”

“Wow, Buggy the Clown. You're just a master of descriptions. Some shit. What does it look like?”

“I don't know. A small board with squares on it.”

“Describe m~. Oh, my God!” Catherine jerked sharply away from the grate, seeing his flying hand. “At least give me a warning that you're sending your parts to me.”

“Give me something, I'll show you what I see.”

She placed a pad and pen in his hand, and the hand disappeared into the darkness. “Buggy? Are you still there?”

“I'm coming!” Buggy walked over to the cage and showed her the drawing. “There's this thing.”

“What the fuck is it?” Catherine stared at awkwardly drawn curved lines. “How old are you? Five years old? Can't you draw at all?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't take an academic drawing class, somehow I didn't think that fucking skill would come in handy in my thirties when I'm stuck at the bottom of the fucking pyramid. Actually, I thought you were going to send me a phone.”

“Wa~. I..” Catherine was silent for a second. “You're pissing me off.”

“That's great! You send me a fucking notebook, and I'm pissing you off.” Buggy leaned sideways against the cage and crossed his arms.

“Lord knows, I'll come to you in spirit and ruin your life.” Catherine shook her head and looked at the drawing. “Wait. This looks like a senet.”

“What the fuck is this? Is this another fucking god?”

“No, it's a game. There's a legend that this game was thought to be an amulet of a guide to the world of the dead. But there's also a myth that it was the game of the god Thoth. He created this game to win the soul of the goddess Nut from the moon god Khonsu. I told you about that too, but I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot.” Catherine waved her hand at him. “Because it was in the first pyramid, and then we spent the night in a motel where you ruined me in every way possible.” She blushed.

“Oh! I remember that night! Trust me, that hot sex session we had there superseded any memory of those dead gods." Buggy giggled idiotically.

“Geez! Wipe that satisfied smile off your face, clown.” Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Do you have at least something stuck in your head?”

“If you wanna know the answer, ask me something next time you stand naked in front of me. Or you’ll lie naked under me. " He winked at her.

“You're disgus~ Wait!” She began to look around the floor, walls, and ceiling. “There's a sign of Osiris on the ceiling. And in the corners is Thoth, Nut. And there's Khonsu in the middle. Why didn't I notice them right away?”

“You were too busy nagging me.” Buggy said mockingly.

“Fuck you, honestly. This isn't a punishment cell. We're apparently in some sort of burial chamber. Wait!" Catherine pulled a notebook and the map out of her bag and quickly flipped through the pages. “Oh, my God! It's written right here. Don't get me wrong, but I think you're going to have to play this game to win my soul from the moon god.”

“Excuse me?” Buggy goggled at Catherine and his head separated from his body in surprise. “I have no idea how to play it!” He reattached his head back to his body. “Is there no other way? I don't know. Recite some Egyptian spell again. You're always muttering something under your breath and all that shit opens up.”

“What is the probability that a room with a game in it, and gods painted on the floor playing it, has nothing to do with this cell? I'm sorry, I don't have the magic dust to open the fucking door. All I have is you, clown!” Catherine answered angrily and pointed her index finger at Buggy.

“But I don't know how to play this fucking game. I can't do it.” He raised his voice.

“Buggy, you're panicking!”

“Yeah, I'm panicking. Join me! I’m sorry, cotton candy, but I'm clearly not fit to be a savior.” He leaned his back against the gate.

“Hey!” Catherine softened her voice, came closer to the grate, took his hand and looked at him. “What are you saying? You’ve already saved me so many times. Why don’t you believe in yourself? You’re smart, although you don’t use your brains sometimes. Come on, free me from the clutches of the moon god. Only the love of my life can do this. Otherwise, I will come to you in the form of a ghost and will torture you until your last breath.” She reached her other hand through the bars and stroked his hair. “I believe in you, my blue-haired hero.”

Buggy exhaled heavily. “Alright. Let's do it. There's no choice anyway. Tell me how to play it.”

“Look. The game consists of 30 squares, referred to as houses.” Catherine began to show him the drawing.

“Houses?”

“Don't interrupt me! But yes! These squares are arranged in three rows, with ten houses in each row. Each gamer has 5 pieces or figures, call them as you want. Only one piece can be placed in each house at a time. Also, you have 4 sticks. These are usually popsicle sticks with one side painted black and the other painted white. When it's your turn, you'll throw the sticks. And I will tell you how many steps to move the pieces. The goal of the game is to get all of your pieces off the board before the other player. At the beginning of the game, you must place your pieces on the first row. Player 1 will place his pieces on the first, third, fifth, seventh, and ninth houses. Player 2 should place his pieces on the second, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth houses.”

“Player 2?” Buggy asked. “Where can I find the second player? Are you suggesting that I should play with an imaginary friend? Or dig up a mummy?”

Catherine examined the walls again. “No. With me. You'll have to play with me. Of course! I'm sitting here, next to all these gods. If you win, they'll free me. If not, then I'll stay here.” She shrugged cheerfully and smiled.

“And you're so calm about it?” He blinked. “It was easier to escape from prison than to solve these fucking Egyptian riddles. Only this box is nailed there. How to play?”

“So you’ll sit there and tell me everything. How will you come up with drawings like these...” She drew them on a piece of paper. “Let me know. Oh, and also the pieces have to move straight along the line, and when you get to the end of the line, you stand on the next line and move to the other side of the board. Like that. In the shape of a Z letter.” She drew a diagram of the movement. “Just bring me my sticks. I'll throw them and tell you how many steps to move my pieces.”

Buggy sent one of his hands for the sticks, while the other held Catherine's hand. She felt a shiver in his hand and began stroking her finger across his palm. The hand quickly went back and brought the sticks, and he gave it to Catherine.

“Well, I'm off to rescue you from that Egyptian shit.” He kissed her hand and disappeared into the darkness.

Catherine heard a noise and a muttering and chuckled softly. “He can't help but grunt.” She whispered under her breath. “You okay in there? Ready?”

Buggy sat down on the floor with a lurch. “Wait a little while. I'm arranging the pieces according to your drawing. Done. Ready now.” He picked up the sticks in his hands, shook them a little, and threw them on the floor. “Throwing. Two white and two black.”

“Shit. Then move two steps forward! But you lose your next move! Then I throw twice.” Catherine began to write down all the moves in a notebook.

“It’s a good start. Fuck!!” He muttered. “Shit. One. Two. Done!” They both fell silent. “You're alive, cotton candy? Have the mummies of the Egyptian gods come for you yet?”

“Go to hell and don't scare me! I'm fine! Throwing sticks! Three black and one white. And then an extra move. My piece must now stand in place of yours. Get yours off the board, you've lost one of your army.”

“Fuck! I told you, I’m a bad player!”

“It's okay. I'm throwing it. Three black, one white. One step forward. And I have an extra turn again. Damn! Throwing! Yes! Two white and two black. I lose my turn.” Catherine made another note.

“Got it! One. Two. Done! Throwing! Three white and one black sides.” Buggy carefully rearranged the figures.

“Shit! Three steps forward and you lose your move!”

“What the fuck? Fucking Egyptian games!!” Buggy muttered.

“Everything is fine! Calm down, please. Throwing! Two black, two white. I lose my turn, but you lose your piece again. Now there are only three left.”

“How am I supposed to win? Only three pieces left!” Catherine could hear the irritation in his voice.

“It's okay. Throw it!”

“Damn! Four black and one white.” Buggy exhaled heavily.

“Yes! Move five steps forward and throw again.”

“Oh, I like that! One, two… five. Throwing again! Two white and two black.”

“Two steps forward and you miss a move. I throw. Four white. Move my chip four steps forward and I throw again. Three steps forward. I lose a move, but you lose a piece.” Catherine continued to cross out boxes on her notepad.

“Can you stop doing that? Fuck! How do I get to the end with two pieces?” He growled through his teeth.

“I didn't make the rules, Buggy!”

“Fuck! I'm throwing! Two black and two white.” He mumbled loudly.

“Move to two. And you lose a move!” She heard him growl back. “It's all right! I'm throwing it! Okay, I have four whites and I throw again.”

“One. Two. Four. Done!” Buggy mumbled.

“Cool! Now it's my turn again. Three whites and I lose the move.”

“Got it! One, two. Three. How are we doing?” Buggy asked loudly.

“The moon god or Osiris are winning so far.” Catherine replied with a nervous laugh in her voice.

“Fucking Osiris! Four black.”

“Haha, you can be proud of yourself, clown. You knocked out one of my pieces. Move five squares forward. And throw again.” Catherine giggled.

“Got it. One. Two… Five. Throwing. Four white. One, two, three, four. Hey, Cathie-pie! I've reached the first drawing. It's like three bottles of rum.” Buggy answered happily, and Catherine heard him clap his hands.

“God, show some respect. That's not rum. It's Nefer hieroglyphics. It's a house of beauty. Drop your sticks. If four blacks come up, you’re gonna lose me to an Egyptian god.” There was silence in response. “Buggy? Are you throwing?”

He suddenly came back and sat with his back to the cage.

“What happened?” Catherine asked and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Don't say that again. It's not a funny joke, Catherine.”

“What?”

“You're going to lose me to an Egyptian god. Don't say this shit. It's not funny. You… You're my Cathie-pie. I can't lose you. I can't. I don't want to be alone again.” Buggy rested his head against the bars.

She stroked his head. “Sorry, my love. When I'm nervous, I make stupid jokes. Everything will be fine. See?” She showed him the piece of paper. “You're almost there!”

“You just said that if I throw four blacks, I'll lose.” Buggy glanced at Catherine with sad eyes.

She smiled in response. “Not gonna lie. This option is possible.”

“I always lose. If you were with him, he would never let you get stuck in this kind of shit.” Buggy said quietly.

“Fuck him! You know, for some reason I’m sure that my blue-haired knight in shining clown armor will not lose his beloved girl to some god.”

“Where did you see the armor? I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.” He sneered, took her hand and squeezed.

“Still counts as armor.” Catherine stroked his head and asked softly. “Will my Buggy Bear save me?”.

Buggy breathed out. “He'll try. Otherwise, he will be bored because there is no one to piss him off with this stupid nickname.”

“My hero! Look. Throw one and move here.” She showed him the drawing with three curved lines. “This is the House of Water. If a 5 is rolled, the piece remains in place. If a 4 is rolled, your piece leaves the board and you are the winner. In a different outcome, the piece goes here to the House of Revival. And then you have to start the game practically all over again. We don't want it. Don't cheat, please. And then I throw the sticks again after you.”

“Fine!” Buggy sighed heavily, stood up and walked into the darkness. “I’m throwing these fucking sticks.”

Catherine clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the sound of sticks being thrown. “Well, what's there?”

“Let your Egyptian gods go fuck themselves. It’s one!” Buggy snapped his fingers.

“I told you! You're great! I'm throwing. Four blacks. Move my piece to the House of Water!”

“Okay, but just keep in mind that you're not making it any easier for me to save you, Cathie-pie. A little more, and your chip will overtake mine.”

“Now you throw! Remember? If a 5 comes up, the chip stays in place, if a 4 com~.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buggy muttered. “I got it. I'm throwing.”

“Don't be mad.” Catherine closed her eyes again. “What's there?”

“Five. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. At least something else didn’t fall out, and that’s good. Now I’m throwing.” She shook the sticks in her hand. “You and I are the perfect couple, clown. I have five too.” She laughed. “It’s your turn now.”

“Understood.”

Catherine buried her face in her hands. “Well, what's there?”

“Your Egyptian gods love to mock me as much as you do. Five again!” Buggy laughed nervously.

“It's okay. My turn now.” She put the sticks in her palms, whispered a little and threw them on the floor. “Fuck yes! Also, five. Your turn. Throw it again.”

“Understood.”

Catherine heard the sound of falling sticks. “What's there?” The answer was silence. “Buggy? What happened?” She tried to look through the bars. “Hey? Are you still there?”

Suddenly, a flying head appeared near the bars. “Four!”

“Where is your body?” She pointed into space.

At this moment he connected the head with the body. “Fuck, Catherine! Did you even hear what I said? Four! I won!”

“What? Seriously?!” She pulled the bars. “But.. Why doesn't it open?”

Buggy grabbed the bars and pulled them a couple of times. “What the fuck?”

“You didn't cheat?” Catherine narrowed her eyes.

“Do I look like a person who cheats?”

“Are you seriously asking me this now?” Catherine pursed her mouth and raised her hands questioningly. “Then I don’t understand.” She sat down on the floor and rested her feet against the adjacent wall. “Maybe the game didn’t work. But why? Although maybe sometimes drawings are just drawings. Go away, Buggy. Try to find a way out and go home. If you don't find a way out, come back here, we’ll die together like in a stupid snotty novel.” She laughed nervously.

“Fucking Egyptian gods!” Buggy rested his forehead against the bars. “What the hell? Cathie-pie.. I.. Wait! What is this?”

“What? Where?”

“There are some small inscriptions on the bars.”

Catherine jumped up from the floor. “Where?” He pointed his finger at the words. Catherine squinted and began to read the inscription. “Your rebirth is in Thoth’s nest. Come to save me, o, silent Thoth.”

They both heard a click.

“Come here quickly!” Buggy opened the door and pulled Catherine out of the cell by the scruff of the neck. “Or else, something fails somewhere again, closes, or worse.”

Catherine looked at him with wet eyes. “You won! You saved me! Again!” She threw herself on his neck and pecked him on the lips several times.

“Of course.” Smack from Catherine. “I.” Smack again. “Saved.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Nobody dares take my cotton candy away from me.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Write it down in your notebook. Buggy the Clown - 1.” He extended his other hand and showed his middle finger to the room with drawings. “Your Egyptian dead dudes - 0.”

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nyaagolor · 1 year

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Very silly chart about the sv characters and weed

Protagonist: your mileage may vary but mine only befriended Koraidon because she was high as shit and thought it was a really big wingull

Nemona: She took those anti-drug PSAs to heart. Not only does she think marijuana will kill you and has never smoked before, but if she saw someone else smoking she would put out their joint and give them a stern lecture. She's still student council president at the end of the day and she will NOT tolerate la hierba diabla

Penny: Being a stoner transfemme catgirl furry is basically a prerequisite to being a cybersecurity expert at this point. This woman has DEFINITELY played Minecraft while high out of her mind

Arven: He is completely unfamiliar with weed outside this one weird brownie recipe he saw online once, but good lord he needs some. Get this man an edible immediately he needs a nap and a release from the cruelty of existence

Sada and Turo: Got the idea for the time machine while high, this is a hill I will die on

Jacq: He has enough cortisol in his bloodstream at this very moment to kill a small mammal, I think he needs something to chill him out. He's so air-headed that it probably won't affect his outward behaviors anyway

Miriam: Medical marijuana was getting popular so she got curious and tried it, telling absolutely no one. She hated the cotton-mouth feeling, so she hasn't touched it since, and says she's never tried it when people ask

Dendra: She's an athlete and they drug-test so she couldn't try it even if she wanted to (and trust me, she wants to)

Saguaro: He was never interested in it because it smells bad >n<. Try as he might to hide it, he's a bit sensitive and didn't want to be around something so stinky

Salvatore: He was in the poke-netherlands once on a study abroad trip and rolled the worst blunt of all time. He was so thoroughly humiliated that he didn't even end up smoking and was asked to leave. The memory still haunts him. He doesn't like to talk about it

Tyme: Smoked a few times when she was a teenager and hanging out with Ryme-- ironically in their youth, it was Tyme who was the rebel! She hasn't done it in a few decades though, it's not really her thing anymore

Raifort: She'll try anything once, but didn't like the feeling of being so sluggish and tired so she didn't do it again

Clavell: You know that video with Clavell as Dwight? "Clavell finding marijuana is more dangerous than most people smoking it"? Exactly that

Katy: Smells too bad for her to even think about trying it. Also she's petty and too many people asked her if she can bake weed brownies, so she avoids it on principle now

Brassius: He's a grass gym leader, what do you think. Also I hc he has a chronic illness so he takes it medically to help with the pain. His studio smells downright rancid

Iono: Got high on a since deleted stream. She ended up staring directly into the camera for like three hours and falling asleep drooling, which was so embarrassing that she erased all records of the stream from existence and swore never to touch it again

Kofu: This is a man who looks like he would make MEAN cannabutter. He just has the vibes

Ryme: Smokes sometimes at parties and other social events, but not all that frequently. Grandma's still got it, plus it helps calm her down before a seance

Tulip: Tried it once after being offered it at an afterparty, but didn't like how it made her feel. She likes to be at the top of her game At All Times and this was not the way to do it

Grusha: Takes it medically for his chronic pain, but that's about it. Wouldn't use it otherwise

Rika: Just look at her.

Larry: Tried it one (1) time and didn't like it. Prefers regular cigarettes

Poppy: She's four.

Hassel: He ran away from home to be a musician he definitely had a stoner phase. Also he's besties / husbands with Brassius, so he's more than familiar with weed. I think because he's a schoolteacher and works with kids he doesn't do it much anymore though

Geeta: I'm honestly not sure how she fits into this, only that she's on the Nightmare Blunt Rotation of every Paldean

Giacomo: He can pretend all he likes but he's still a student council president at heart, he is mortified by the very concept of smoking weed. Someone offered him a joint at a rave and he lectured them for a half hour on the importance of caring for your body. He may look like a stoner but do not be fooled

Mela: Acts tough but she's kinda scared of the prospect of smoking weed. Don't tell anyone though

Atticus: He heard about this ancient Johtoian technique of ninja relaxation and tried to hotbox his room once. This resulted in an academy-wide fire scare because he set off every smoke alarm in his hall. The director was less than thrilled about this. Rumor has it the smell from Atticus' homemade herb and weed blend still sticks to the walls

Ortega: His opinion on weed is irrelevant because no one in their right mind is going to deal weed to a 14 year old nepo-baby in a pastel pink suit

Eri: Actually shockingly responsible and healthy at the end of the day-- illicit substances aren't part of her workout routine. Will probably give you a look of disapproval if she sees you smoking, but ultimately that's your business

#pokemon sv #mod vex #headcanons #this isn't that serious don't think too hard about it

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kouhsuu · 5 months

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EMO TREAT AU MASTERPOST

SPOILERS FOR ALTERNATE ENDING

Essentially... What if Treat was EMO?

Specifically, what if she had stayed with her pack instead of leaving?

That's pretty much what this AU is about! Me and some friends came up with it for fun and it just kept growing lol

It takes a couple of liberties to make some things work though so it can be a bit silly!! xP

How it goes

Rather than Tundra, Timber is the current pack leader and they are both much older. Treat's parents failed to seperate from their pack, Glaze, and Treat suffered the repercussions by Timber using her as an example to her parents.

Treat eventually grows up under Timber, as he teaches her his way of acquiring food for their pack, good food. She struggles, but is forced to swallow it down for the sake of the pack. She distances herself from most everyone, aside from Timber as he is her mentor, and only really bothers with others out of necessity. Lacking empathy and becoming emotionally stunted due to her childhood makes her a near 180 to regular Treat.

Here's how she looks like!!

The way I see it, she dyes her hair with charcoal from fires to represent her deep turmoil!!!! or something like that, I can't think of a reason why outside of "my heart is a deep and vast void"

How are other characters/the world affected?

Starting from the pack members...

Cotton & Candy: There's not much to say, but after getting caught trying to leave the pack they haven't had much to do with everyone. Treat only really comes over to sleep and avoids them, because she somewhat blames them for what happened to her.

Timber: Pack leader and mentor of Treat. He didn't want to have to hurt Treat, but her parents took it too far trying not only to take their daughter with her, but Powder & Fennel too. He took her under his wing so she wouldn't get influenced by her parents anymore and decided to take the opportunity to teach her to be the next generation pack leader... Though no one but his mother knows that yet.

Fennel: She still has a giant crush on Treat, and is the only one that actively goes out of her way to hang out with her! Treat thinks she's a nuisance, but slowly entertains Fennel as she grows curious as to why she keeps trying to get close to her.

Other characters such as Powder and Tundra aren't really all that developed, so feel free to think up something for them!!!

The pack members don't just end there either...

I made up some characters for the AU aswell!! woohoo!!!!

They're in a small little fic I made on Mochi meeting Treat in this AU, but I want to do more with them!! The descriptions will be short though since there's not much with them yet.

Cocoa: The oldest, and the only one in his human form. He's playful, carefree, loves poking fun whenever he can.

Mallow: The middle child. His fur is dark gray and he's the strongest out of the three. He's boisterous, a bit stubborn, and competitive.

Creme: The youngest child. Her fur is white and is sarcastic, confident, a bit self-absorbed. She's also very prissy which annoys her older brothers.

Stuff they all have in common are also sharing admiration for Treat, despite always getting caught causing trouble by her, and the three of them are very close knit.

Characters outside the pack

Moxie: Unlike in the canon, she has lost her confidence due to being forced back to be with her mother in ginseng, following the loss of the Foxy Den. She eventually ran away from her and now hopes to learn how to survive in the wilderness by stalking the wolves around, including Treat.

here's a little concept sketch of her!!

she's pretty dinged up :(

Mochi: Due to Treat never having left Glaze, she never arrived in Frosting to live in the cabin and save Mochi from Moxie. She ends up fearing predators a bit more due to this, and is usually escorted by Juju outside. However, she still wishes to slowly start being more independent again. Overall though, there isn't much changed with her! (including her design)

Trick: Treat's parents never got to form the other pack near their Master's house because they never got to leave. Due to being unable to find any wolf pack settlement nearby, their Master reluctantly brought Trick together into hiding with him. Even if it would cause problems along the way, he didn't want them out fending for themselves. Trick would slowly start the learn the truth behind their Master's identity.

Will Treat, Mochi, and Moxie still get together?

Yes!!!!!!! However, with the way it's going, Fennel will be included too!! I have it somewhat outlined how I want it to go, but you'll have to read my friend's fic on it!!!

Speaking of fics...

Here are ALL the current fics and side stories so far!!

MAIN FIC (collab between me and @blobsicle): LINK

Short Stories:

(these are by me :3)

Fennel x Treat

Treat and Mochi Meeting

HOW TO TAG THE AU

Use either '#Shifted Story' or just '#Emo Treat AU'!!!

that's all for the AU!!! I hope you guys like it so far :3>!! Feel free to add onto any of this, or add a spin!! i'd love to see any of it so feel free to tag me!!

I'll be scheduling some posts with art i've made :)

#lonely wolf treat #lwt #Shifted Story #Emo Treat AU

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inverted-typo · 1 year

Note

*Constantly daydreaming what a damirae date look like off uniform* Would they walk in the park with Titus? Go ice skating? Petting zoo or cat cafe? Etc.

Would like your thoughts :)

Ohohoho this is a great question. Definitely lots of outside activities with Titus for sure! I think maybe Damian likes training him in agility. Here! I'll just write out a list of ideas I can think of!

Curiosity/Antique Shops - Raven is definitely more interested in this on a personal level, but I'd say they like to hunt down weird, hole in the wall niche shops to look for bizarre and strange items. Raven gets excited when she actually finds a genuine magical artifact, and will go on a complete tangent about what it does, its origins and wondering how it got here for $6.99 next to a worthless, mass-produced replica of an antique.

Museums! - I can totally see them both having a level of interest in history and just learning in general. Nature museums, science museums, travelling exhibits, art museums! All the museums!! Damian gets really invested into whatever exhibit they’re looking at.

Arcade - Imagine them trying to go on a double date with another couple. Raven can't play videogames for shit but she's really good at air hockey?? Damian is already proven to be a DDR King so there's that. Maybe at first Dami is a little nervous about doing a double date thing, but then his competitiveness really fires up and he ends up having an absolute blast. They tag team couple vs. couple and then opposing partners.

Rock Climbing - When Damian first suggested they go rock climbing, Raven wasn't opposed but she had never gone so she didn't have any opinion on it. Plus she can fly? Why would she ever need to climb?? But then she falls in love with the sport! Damian was very surprised because he wasn't sure if she'd enjoy herself. Now, they go all the time and both share a love for it. The concentration, patience and focus required provide a meditative outlet for both. It also strengthens their bond because they will belay for each other, too. (idk if that's the right term i dont fucking rock climb)

Pastries Please - Raven found a pastry shop that she couldn't say no to. It's French styled and good lord the custard tarts mean everything to her. They have a little café as well and Damian really enjoys their brew there. They become regulars and typically go in the evenings. Damian: You know, we could just...go to Paris. You can literally teleport there. Raven: Yeah but then I'd feel like I'm cheating on Beau (the chef)

Board Walk - One date night they go out to the docks that have a ferris wheel and all that kind of carnival stuff. It feels very nostalgic to them. They are obligated to get cotton candy, as well as visit the fun house mirrors. And duh they go on the ferris wheel. Even though the activities themselves feel a little mundane, it feels very meaningful to them. They have a competition to see who can win the stupidest prize.

Hope this was a good list for you!!

#damirae #Damian Wayne #Raven #date ideas #damirae rambles

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lemmetreatya · 2 years

Note

I have never requested anything so I have no idea where to do that and stuff, i hope you dont mind me writing it here.. I was thinking if you could write about platonic relationship between Polnareff and reader? like, them being siblings and after Sherry's death reader would disappear for some years, they would reunite while stardust crusaders is happening. they would meet between fight with Anubis and after that they would talk about how they've missed each other.. hurt/comfort type of thing with some fluff in it. oh and also reader has a healing stand perhaps? they could help Polpol and Joot with their wounds. I hope its ok with you! if not, feel free to ignore it

That’s fine! Your request was lovely but you’re also my first imagine request so we’re in this doing firsts together 🥺💕 Hope you enjoy <3

Everything, Everything for You, My Darling

Polnareff x Reader

Count: 4.1k+

‘For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you’

Contains: Angsts, Character death, Hurt, Comfort, Strong Language, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read

For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you.

“Sst!”

Looking up towards the younger girl, you softly mouthed an apology. Her leg was still brushed red, tinged with small specks of blood and razor like streaks but you tried to clean up her graze as lightly as you could.

Apart from this one injury, Sherry was fine. Maybe a slightly bruised ego but she was holding her own, unlike the other addition to your trio.

Within your peripheral, you could see Jean Pierre marching up and down the paved field edge you were all currently situated on, his footing light but his clomps loud nonetheless. He was currently seething, hot with anger; something that wasn’t a regular occurrence but definitely felt once present.

“I swear — I fucking swear — I’ll get them back for that. Those sleazy bastards…. think, think they can just get away with hurting my sister, huh?! Fuck, they so have what’s coming for them.”

The collection of red stained cotton buds that sat besides your leg stacked up in a small pyramid. You added another one to the pile before addressing the boy, a sigh in your voice.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, Jean Pierre. They’ve already run off and there’s about seven of them and three of us. We just gotta cut our losses as it is, you know?”

Sherry nodded in agreeal to your comment although flinched afterwards as you lightly stuck a plaster above her knee.

“Yeah, don’t work yourself up blaming them. It’s not like they did it on purpose. I just happened to be in the way is all.” Her voice was as soft as ever.

Visibly you could see Jean Pierre start to calm down, his feet finally stuck in one singular place and his box shoulders sagging, although you knew the fire of rage still bubbled deep within his gut.

“Mon coeur, still!” He exclaimed towards you before switching his attention to Sherry, “They should have minded you or something. At least turned back and apologise…”

A lumpy silence fell over the three of you; no one had much else to comment but everyone knew someone needed to say something to fill the gap. Something that didn’t seem like a topic divert or talking just for talks sake. But as always, you knew what to say.

“It’s okay, Jean Pierre. The fact no one’s seriously injured is more than fine. We got lucky.” You encouraged.

With a pout, Sherry aimlessly reached a finger down to lightly smooth over her plaster. You mundanely rubbed the uninjured part of her leg before adding: “It just means you’ll have to be Sherry’s personal chauffeur.”

A soft laugh left Sherry’s mouth at Jean Pierre’s bewildered expression, the boy seemingly offended at the task he was now endowed with.

“What?! No fair! That’s even more reason to get them back!” He boomed.

You weren’t related by blood like Sherry and Jean Pierre were, but the two were the closest thing you had to family. Sherry was soft spoken and as pretty as she spoke. Jean Pierre was boisterous and forever daring in his outlook. You all complimented each other’s personalities but you looked up to Jean Pierre with a different austere air.

The way the older conducted life about him — care-free but never too lenient — it always inspired you to fulfil life in the same manor. It always gave you that edge to be watchful over the Sherry. You liked to think that you and Jean Pierre aided her under a wing each. If only you had known that instead, Jean Pierre was protectively holding his wings over the both of you.

However, despite his disposition, you would never have known the hollowing loneliness he constantly carried with him. Sherry hadn’t much memory of their parents but Jean Pierre did. He had tasted warmth and protection before, he knew how secure it’d make one feel. Jean Pierre even believes he would be better off having never experienced it. Maybe at least that way he wouldn’t daily feel that he was concaving — rotting, from the inside out.

Instead, he used the previous love he’d once received on the both of you.

Not once had the thought that the three of you could ever be apart cross your mind. Even if it did, there was no need to dwell on it as life was already as harsh as it was; why would you dream or even prepare yourself to be away from your only life sources? However, only naivety could fool you that deep.

When Sherry was killed the brutally dehumanising way she was, the only thing you could think to do was pull apart from your rootings.

Pull apart from everything that once made you happy, starve yourself of knowing what Home meant and felt like because why should you?

Sherry had lost her life; never again to see how burnt orange would tickle the vineyard horizons at early dawn or how the stars would wink goodnight under the heavy smell of olives in the evening. The sweet song of rushing brookes! How the clear current could surprise you with its strength if you were to comb your hand against it. No longer was Sherry here to experience those beautiful parries of life so how could you possibly live in the very vicinities she once did and constantly feel like you weren’t dying yourself?

You had fled from the town not even seventy-two hours after her death. It honestly had felt longer by then, but there was no sound voice of reason to warn you against that, and so you had acted on the fleeting decision once you thought it.

It was selfish of you really to not think of everyone else involved — especially concerning how much it would have affected Jean Pierre, how the burden of losing both of you would solely fall on him. You know you could never fear Jean Pierre, with utmost certainty you knew he wouldn’t even dare think about harming you.

But it's when you saw the rage, how the always lit but never boiling flame suddenly unleashed within the older boy towards Sherry’s killer, a part of you feared that you had lost him to an overdue battle.

Running never worked for anyone and to be honest, you’re not sure why it seemed right.

The grief, the pain, the hate all still remained. Everything you tried to run from, stayed. Your dear Family that you wanted to protect, gone. The only thing you had left of them was the faint shadow of their silhouettes that were engraved into the flesh of your eyelids, haunting you for as long as you drew breath.

Still yet, life went on and in due time of being a wanderer, you found yourself in places you could only have dreamt of visiting.

Currently, you were situated in Edfu, a small city that sat on the west bank of the Nile. Cairo had been a bit busy for you, even though you’d spent about a week or so there, and so you ventured more of the country to see what it offered.

You’re not quite sure what drew you to the ancient settlement of Edfu but from the moment you got here, you knew you were there for a reason.

It was just approaching noon when you were sat in the outside seating of the small cafe. It was also then that you heard a loud crashing bang.

When you looked, the trouble seemed to be coming from the barbershop that was placed just four doors down from where you sat. Most of the locals who were around you turned or gravitated towards the source of commotion, surprised at the sudden disturbance in their mostly quiet dwelling. You on the other hand turned the other way in your seat.

“Khan! Khan! Is everything okay?!”

You could only make out the few phrases of Arabic being used around you but you still chose to disengage and move away from the noise. Without even a look at who was involved, you quickly got up and slinked into the inside of the cafe.

Don’t get it wrong, it’s not like you didn’t care nor wanted to help. It’s just… everywhere you went, trouble seemed to follow you. The first few times, you engaged and tried to help out but after awhile, you realised it was always you who the attackers turned on.

This is one of the major reasons why you found yourself becoming a traveller. No matter where you landed yourself, bizarre occurrences always seemed to happen whilst you were in the vicinity.

In your opinion, you saw this as a curse — Sherry’s Curse. This was your judgement on earth already being served to you, this is what you got for running away.

As you sat by the peeling bar, you could only sigh with your head in your hands, the ruckus outside continuing on. The bartender had the same disposition as you. Whether they were used to the noise or just too dully complacent with their job to move from their position, you wouldn’t know. They didn’t mind you for the duration of the time you were there. They only gave you a nod once you entered and that was it. The rest of the time they spent quietly polishing away at the crockery.

A few minutes had passed and the sound of fighting continued crashing throughout the streets. At one point you wondered if it’d ever stop. You were willing to try and leave, slip out in the other direction of the commotion and find yourself somewhere else to occupy. That was until you heard the sharp sound of barking.

Looking down at your feet, you noted a small boston terrier yapping for your attention. With a warm smile, you got down from your barstool to pat it on the head.

“Why, hello. Hey, who’s a good baby?”

The dog basked in your petting for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the attention before unexpectedly bolting towards the entrance of the cafe.

With a surprised face, you took it as the dog just being wryly but when you realised it was still watching you from it’s place you, frowned.

“What’s wrong, buddy? You lost?”

The dog barked once, twice and then turned in a circle a few times. You weren’t entirely sure what drew you to follow after it as it dashed out into the street, but you realised whatever it was felt urgent.

Meanwhile, having just come back to his senses, Polnareff was in distress.

With a sigh, the Frenchman crouched himself down next to the currently winded Jotaro. Never again does he ever want to be controlled to do something against his will like that. Anubis was tough but he believes he knew he was winning that fight anyways.

The Frenchman wasn’t as hurt as the younger male but he definitely did feel like he’d been in a hefty battle. Polnareff shuffled within his pockets, pulling out an old malted plaster before offering it to Jotaro.

“Here, I’ve got a plaster.”

Jotaro didn’t even look at what he was being offered, only grumbled out:

“No, I don’t want it.”

Polnareff didn’t take it to heart. He knew the male could be acute with the words he used and so he only shrugged before getting up to observe the area damage behind him. Before he knew it, he was met with the familiar flash of tuffed black and white fur.

“Oh, it’s Iggy! Where did you come from?” He couldn’t even be relieved for long as he grimaced over at the bull terrier, unaware of the figure who followed him.

“Beurk! Eating candy now are we? And right off the floor too, you disgusting…dog.”

As Polnareff’s words faltered, your feet came to a sudden stop, no longer allowing you to follow the small animal. Your mind went completely blank seeing the now older boy, no, man in front of you. With a dry gulp, you quietly called out his name.

“J-Jean Pierre…?”

There was a tense flicker of eye contact the both of you shared.

The facial expression the silver haired man wore was crushed into that of hurt and rage. Maybe it was because of your presence, maybe it’s because of the previous battle he just had. Either way, the smithereens of the anger you could smell on him at the day of Sherry’s death was the same smell you were smelling now.

Your heart raced with utmost speed, so much so you thought it’d explode right there, spray guts and blood down your chest and all over the man in front of you. After years of suppressing whatever you were trying to bury, suddenly it had all come to the surface. Forget that this was one of the most bizarre places to meet, the fact that the boy you had abandoned was here — right in front of you — was daunting.

You took a faulty step back, your footing wobbly as it almost failed you. Polnareff on the other hand desperately reached his hand out towards you.

“No, no it’s okay.” He cooed. I’m not mad at you, is what he wanted to say but for the record of their current company, he held his words.

You gulped, unsure of whether to stay or not. However, once he saw you weren’t going to fleetingly run away from him, Polnareff tasted the name he thought he’d never be able to use come the rest of his days.

“Mon coeur...”

The familiarity of the name churned your heart with nostalgia. Your breathing was still hitched but you were able to break through a reply.

“Hey…” You could barely whisper back, your facial expression twisted between final joy and sorrow.

Polnareff took a tentative step forwards, his arms opening in that welcoming way it always did once he knew you were unsettled. Without a second thought, you found yourself moulding into his chest —like the prodigal child finding Home again. Eyes peppery with tears, your arms dug into the man with an action that could only be described as desperation.

Whether he was in pain or not you wouldn’t have known, as Polnareff made no move to adjust you or place you where he wasn’t sore. He only engulfed you, no questions asked or uttered.

You both stayed like that for a good several seconds although it felt fleeting and short. The only reason why you let go was because Polnareff had suddenly switched and pulled his attention towards the Nile situated several yards behind you.

“Regardè! That cow is freaking out about something…” He pointed, almost childishly to the disturbed cattle and rocking boat.

Feeling slightly disorientatated, you didn’t even have time to reply or pay proper attention to his observation as it seemed that his shared company had more words to say about it than you did.

“Gimme a break, Polnareff. Who the fuck cares? Just go find Avdol and Gramps…”

As you looked towards the grimacing black haired man, you realised why Polnareff may have been reluctant to say much to you. Was this his friend?

“I’ll look for them, don’t worry.” Polnareff gave you a look to wordlessly excuse himself as he trotted back towards the other man who was still crouched.

The black haired man was definitely aware of your presence, well, you think he was. But he didn’t seem to acknowledge you as he spoke to Polnareff. You looked at him closely, unsure why he seemed so defensive but either way you weren’t phased.

All of a sudden, an inward fizzing sound occured and it was like you were looking at him with a different set of eyes.

Your vision was suddenly tinted purple, your surroundings all tinted in that very colour. The crouching man’s body highlighted yellow and orange in various places in the shape and size of incisions and cuts. One orange on his cheek and a yellow dotted around other places. However, his lower stomach seemed to blare an alarming colour of red. Even without the changed vision you could tell there was a pool of blood dripping from the very same place.

Your vision quickly changed back to normal but you lightly gasped before also crouching down by his side.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?! That wound looks pretty deep.”

The black haired man didn’t look offended at your now invasive presence but he definitely watched you closely from underneath his hat.

“Ah, Jotaro will be alright. We just gotta find the others and then Avdol’ll be able to patch him up or something.” Polnareff chirped in.

Your brows furrowed between your eyes. Who were all these people Polnareff suddenly knew?

“Others?” You turned your head to hushly asked.

“Long story, I’ll explain later.” Polnareff answered.

“Yeah, but that’s only if we can find them in time.” The black haired man, (You’re guessing whose name was Jotaro?) grunted his piece as he finally sat down onto the dusty side road. His legs were spread out infront of him as his hand pressed painfully onto the crimson wound that stained just below his stomach.

“Fuck, I’m never going out with you alone ever again.”

Even though he directed that comment towards Polnareff, you could feel the bothered annoyance emitting from Jotaro. However, your concern was still towards his heavy gnash that didn’t seem to stop flowing red.

“I don’t know who this Avdol guy is but I’m sure I could help heal your wounds in the meantime.” You blurted.

Both Jotaro and Polnareff looked to you with questioning stances. Without much explanation, you tentatively laid your hands onto the bleeding area of Jotaro’s stomach.

Unexpectedly, the same purple tint that shaded your vision earlier glowed around your hand. Even though the healing wasn’t obvious due to the covering of his clothes, Jotaro’s visible discomfort started to ease.

With a dry laugh, Polnareff rubbed the side of his palm across his forehead.

“I never knew you had a stand?!”

As you continued to concentrate on the man’s wounds, you briefly uttered your reply.

“Oh. Is that what it’s called?”

Polnareff laughed again, yet this time it was full of bright colour.

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense. You were always the healing type. Whether it be a soothing word or just a plaster. You always knew how to make people feel better.”

You briefly looked up at your Home, smile warm as it radiated off of your face.

“Thanks.” You looked back down to where your hands hovered over the other man’s stomach. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

“You two know each other.”

Jotaro gruffly stated more than asked. His voice didn’t sound as pained but he was definitely worn out. Rolling his eyes, Polnareff answered for the two of you.

“Yeah, well, no shit.”

The black haired man didn’t scoff but he might as well have concerning how he lowered his cap further over his eyes.

Even though you weren’t familiar with their dynamic, you felt like you could figure it out quite quickly. If anything, it reminded you of the one you used to share with Polnareff all those years back. With a soft laugh, you shook your head.

“We all grew up together. Me, him and…”

You felt Polnareff freeze besides you. The distraught that was briefly dormant finally came back in a flow of cracked nostalgia. A pained expression dressed your face before you begrudgingly finished your sentence.

“…and Sherry.”

“The dead sister.” Jotaro stated.

Polnareff seemed distant now that the girl’s name was brought up. He nodded dutifully before heavily answering.

“Yeah. The one I avenged.”

You took heed of the older’s words.

Avengement.

Long gone were the days where you daily thought about reclaiming back power from Sherry’s killer. You found the task hopeless, time consuming and no use. Not because you didn’t care but because what use would it do you?

For ages, the guilt of Sherry simply being a victim haunted your psyche. It was only through suppression of feelings in which you could even bear to stand yourself, live on with your choices.

Maybe now it was finally time to face just one of your many demons.

“Let me help you.” You blurted out.

With a wild expression, Polnareff looked in your direction.

“What?”

A flurry of small tiny ants could have crawled along the inside of your chest with how it was seeming to burn. You cleared your throat once before explaining further.

“With whatever you’re doing out here. Fighting, avenging, I don’t know but just let me help.”

Conflict plagued Polnareff’s face. Even though it’d been so long, even though he’d grown a lot taller, older and even in a sense, more mature — that same expression he would wear as a child decorated his features.

For a split second you recond, to a certain extent, that Polnareff still counted as a child.

Polnareff searched his eyes over your face.

“No, mon coeur. It’s too dangerous.”

“Says who? I’ve survived long enough on my own and I turned out fine. You won’t need to look out for me and I won’t get in your way just…” You couldn’t even meet his eyes. “Just let me make it up to you.” You finished with a murmur.

With sagging shoulders, Polnareff stretched his hand down to you.

“You don’t owe me anything—“ is what he started with but as you moved your shoulder out of his arms reach, you seemed to unexpectedly burst.

“Jean Pierre! For the sake of finally being able to sleep easy. For the idea that I can finally say I’ve done something worthwhile with my life and stop running away — for me to avenge Sherry in my own way, let me help.”

Too stunned to speak, the older man simply didn’t. His mouth left agape at the sudden chagrin you spilt. The sudden realisation why life after Sherry’s death panned out the way it did for the both of you.

Having not been an active part of the conversation, Jotaro found himself being the one to keep the train of conversation going. God, Polnareff really did put him in the most awkward of situations.

“I don’t see why not.” Jotaro directed towards you. “Your stand will be useful anyways.”

Blinking over at the man, you realised that this was the first time you got a proper look at him. At first you presumed him to be at least Polnareff’s age or even older. But now that you saw his face, you realised that he was probably around the same age as you.

With a mild scoff, Polnareff wildly pointed his fingers in Jotaro’s direction, accusatory and boisterous air finally pumped back into him.

“And since when did you make the rules?” He fired.

Jotaro only sighed loudly.

“Gimme a break.”

As the six of you walked to your hotel destination for the night, you and Polnareff lagged behind the others.

It’d been a lot, taking in the story and journey Polnareff’s life had taken him on. Even the whole explanation of stands, stand users and the nefarious DIO seemed light in comparison to the eventual opening up of how the older man had barely been coping.

It was natural that you still felt bad about leaving all that time ago but Polnareff was adamant in affirming you that he understood — That he wasn’t angry.

“I won’t lie and say it was easy. I still struggle with coming to terms with her death, even after avenging her.”

As you kicked a lone stone, a flurry of dust followed its path. Polnareff continued.

“Avenging doesn’t do much for the dead. It’s only a way for the living to cope.”

Your shoulders raised and descended in a defensive shrug, your head held high.

“Doesn’t matter, I still want to help.”

Shaking his head, Polnareff disagreed. One of the guys walking in front of you, the one who you learnt went by the name of Avdol, glanced back towards the both of you. You watched as Polnareff shared a knowing glance with him before he continued speaking to you.

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it. Like you’d stand down if I said no, anyways. It’s just… Don’t think it’ll solve or heal anything. It just widens the hole.”

Sighing out of your nose, you shrugged once again only this time it was more of a mutual action.

“Jean Pierre, I know. And I guess— Well, thank you for looking out for me first of all. I do appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with whatever happens, what has happened.” With a soft smile, you directed Polnareff a warm gaze. “I know she’ll be proud that we kept on moving.”

Polnareff could only hazily smile back, a small nod in agreeal.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess she would.”

#polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff x gn reader #polnareff x gender neutral reader #sherry polnareff #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #jotaro kujo #angst #comfort #fluff #happy ending #jjba fanfic #jjba imagine #jjba scenarios

141 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

Text

It’s been years, I think, since I wrote anything even slightly raunchy for Class of the Titans and I really enjoyed doing so again! I did my best to get in several characters, based on this prompt here, and hope you all enjoy!

Jay

Aqua: Top or bottom?

I think this is a little surprising, but Jay, while he can and will top, tends to be a bottom more of the time. He’s got a lot of pressure on him as a leader and people always expect him to know what he’s doing and to be in charge and I feel that sexually, he likes to just let go of all that and to relax and let someone else take charge for once. When he’s really stressed or worried about something is the times when he does take charge sexually.

Azure: What’s your biggest turn-on?

He gets really turned on by a lot of touch and he really likes it when his partner gives him back or shoulder rubs or offers him a massage. A full body massage is right up his alley and he’ll be trembling and painfully hard by the end of the massage, right on the edge of orgasm and he’ll desperately need his partner to give him that release.

Baby: Have you ever had sex with someone of the same gender?

This is just my personal headcanon, and if your view of Jay differs than I fully support that, but I do think Jay is straight, without even a hint of bicurious tendencies, and I don’t think he’s into the idea of having sex with the same gender and has never done so.

Theresa

Carolina: Have you ever had sex with someone of a different gender?

I do think that Theresa has been with someone of a different gender, and I actually feel that she’d be one of the earlier ones to lose her virginity, probably in her mid-to-late teens.

Cerulean: What’s your biggest turn-off?

It doesn’t seem like it would be her biggest turn-off to most people, but it really is. Theresa is really into her partner’s taking good care of themselves and heavy sweat or body odour will make her completely turned off, as will bad morning breath or a lack of personal grooming.

Cyan: What’s your sexual orientation?

As anyone who has read this blog for a bit knows, I’m not into discussing my takes on a character’s sexual orientation just because I don’t want to stir up any controversy, but rest assured that I am completely cool with however you want to headcanon Theresa’s sexual orientation.

Herry

Cobalt: Rough or soft?

Herry will never purposefully go into sex meaning to be rough and he tries really hard to hold back, since he is aware of his own strength. He prefers softer sex, either just really romantic or lazy or caring. That being said, when he gets really lost in pleasure, he can lose a little bit of his self-control and things can get quite rough, especially when he’s getting close to his orgasm.

Cornflower: Are you a virgin?

Herry’s one of the last to lose his virginity. His grandmother had the talk with him fairly early in his life and while she explained the details, she also hammered it into his head that he shouldn’t rush to lose his virginity, that it was to be a gift between two people who truly love each other, and Herry wouldn’t really want to lose his virginity until he really fell in love for the first time.

Denim: Are you naturally submissive or dominant?

Because of his size, a lot of people would just assume that Herry was more into being dominant sexually but he’s really not. He actually leans more towards being submissive sexually and is so eager to please his lovers, willing to let them take the lead or to follow their orders. That being said, he’s not into anything more extreme than maybe being tied up, and he wouldn’t like a harder dom or anything degrading in the slightest. He needs a soft dom, who will give him praise and encouragement and won’t push his limits too much.

Atlanta

Electric: Do you prefer lingerie to regular underwear?

Not at all. Atlanta lives in her sports bra and plain cotton underwear and I feel she’d actually be really into boxer shorts, especially the ones designed for women, especially in fun patterns or prints.

Indigo: Do you like phone sex?

No. This is actually a pretty hard no for her. It’s just awkward and it does nothing for her and, if a partner was to keep pushing for it or trying to instigate it, it actually turns her off quite a bit.

Lapis: What’s your best fantasy?

Atlanta has a really big kink for sex outdoors. She wants to go for midnight runs that end with getting rutted against a tree or her riding her partner desperately in a forest clearing, the sound of nature and the feeling of the wind on her skin just enhancing the sounds of sex and pleasure and the feeling of deep need and approaching orgasm.

Odie

Midnight: Are you into role-play?

I do see this being a kink for Odie. He likes sexy costumes on his partner and especially sexy cosplays from his favourite comics, videogames, and shows. Most of his roleplay would veer into geeky territory, though he does have a thing for student-teacher roleplays or the hot librarian roleplay.

Oxford: Have you ever had sex with more than one person in a 24 hour period?

No. And it will remain a no forever, even if it is a kink of his partner’s and even if his partner gives him permission. Odie is so incredibly monogamous that the idea of being with more than one person sexually makes him a little nauseous. He doesn’t even find the idea of a threesome appealing, despite it being one of the most common male fantasies.

Periwinkle: Do you use sex toys often?

I don’t think Odie uses sex toys all that often. He has an interest in sex toys and he’s really into the idea of using one but he’s really quite shy with his sexuality and he’s too embarrassed to order them online and definitely wouldn’t ever be able to walk into a sex shop to buy one.

Neil

Persian: Would you do public sex at all?

Okay, I know this might seem out there, but I feel, what with his inflated ego, high opinion of his own attractiveness, and need for attention that Neil actually would do porn with a partner if they were at all up to it. He’d be completely fine with them not wanting their own face shown and he wouldn’t brag about it, but he definitely enjoys filming them having sex and would throw it up on PornHub.

Powder: Vanilla sex or spiced up?

Neil needs a mixture of both. He can get bored pretty easily sexually. He still wants vanilla sex, especially if he’s feeling blue or if he’s in a lazy period, but he wants there to be some sexual adventure in his sex life. When he and his partner are experimenting sexually or indulging in kinks, he wants those occasions to be more of a big deal, with more effort put into those times.

Prussian: Confess a kink to me?

Neil really likes to watch himself have sex, so he’ll really enjoy having sex with a partner in front of a mirror. In his own bedroom, he’ll probably install a mirror on the ceiling just so that he can always see the action from multiple angles, no matter what position he’s in.

Archie

Royal: What’s your favourite position?

Archie’s actually really simple in terms of his taste and he’ll really enjoy most of the basic vanilla positions, though he does like cowgirl position a little more than some of the others because of the visual aspects of it. However, he does need a lot of changing it up in terms of positions during sex to actually reach orgasm.

Sky: Do you read smut/watch porn?

I actually have this pretty strong headcanon that not only does Archie read smut, but he writes it too. He’s really popular in a couple of fandoms, or on places like Wattpad where he posts more original writings, for his erotic writing.

Teal: Where was the strangest place you ever had sex?

Archie is another one who I could see being quite into having sex in nature, provided that it was done in a more private setting. I think he’s probably had sex in a cave while out hiking, with that being the strangest place for him.

Tiffany: Would you/do you do sex work?

That’s one of Archie’s heaviest hard no’s. He’s not puritanical, by any means, but he does have a healthy respect for sex and doesn’t believe it should be a really casual thing and I think he’d have a less than stellar view of those who did do sex work.

Cronus

Turquoise: Have you ever taken part in group sex?

Yes. It was a different time, the time of the Titans, a time when morals weren’t quite so rigid and hedonistic tendencies flourished.

True: Do you remember your first time?

I really don’t think that Cronus would remember his first time. Being immortal, he’s had eons of experience and living and pleasant memories tend to be easily discarded from his mind.

Ultramarine: Do you do/enjoy oral?

I feel like Cronus is actually really good at giving oral sex but won’t get his partner off that way. He’ll get them most of the way there, but he refuses to let them cum anywhere besides around his cock. As far as receiving, he’s really into that as he loves seeing his partner on their knees for him, but he really doesn’t much care for deep throat-fucking. The noise actually turns him off more than it turns him on.

#class of the titans #cott #cott headcanons #odie cott #jay cott #herry cott #theresa cott #archie cott #atlanta cott #neil cott #spicy headcanons

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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Writing/Art Update 3/14/2023

So. The fanfic.

Man, when I started writing fanfic, I would just think up a story and write it, no plan, only write. It was fun. I think most people write fanfic this way. Anyway, I don't know if my brain broke, or if I just used up all my good material, or what, but the more fanfic I wrote, the more work it takes. I am now a regular outliner, even though I hate it. Anyway, I have reached a new level of Using Things I Learned in English class, in the sense that I think I'm going to actually make a second (third?) draft.

I hate this for me.

Anyway, the upshot is that I've got, like, 90% of the scenes written. There are still 4 that need endings (including the final one), and I think I might need a few more scenes, but I'm not sure exactly what they should be. I have some notes for what they might be. I realized while writing this that the penultimate scene/chapter of a fanfic is often the most important one, and I'm not happy with the one I have, so I gotta figure that out.

In any case, though, the problem I have at the moment is that, partially as a consequence of writing this thing one sentence at a time, is that it's not necessarily coherent. The first thing I need to do is actually read it, top to bottom. Some of the scenes need to get moved around chronologically (I knew this when I wrote them). I need to figure out if this thing has any sort of trajectory or arc to it. If I can do that, I think it will help me figure out what scenes I still need, and how to end the ones I need to end. I am mildly embarrassed, but I think I am going to start yet another doc for this, but maybe if I call it a "draft", it won't be so bad.

I feel like once I get to the other side of this process, I'll have the end in sight and I'll feel a lot better about this thing, but it's very intimidating at the moment. Among the worst writing feelings I have is "there is something wrong with this story and I don't know how to fix it" and I know I have to pass through that valley.

Weekly numbers: Current word count is 15,457 (which includes a few hundred trash words). I guess I didn't write down my exact word count last week, but that somewhere on the order of +2000-2400. I guess that also includes some that were pasted over from the original doc. It doesn't really matter, a lot of those words were hard fought, and I feel okay about the amount of effort I put in this week, especially considering I had other stuff going on. I also wrote 500 words on the spicy fanfic.

I said I was going to draw this week and I didn't do a lot, but I did do a couple of Mike Mignola skull studies. Little P said these were "some cool skulls, Mom", which was nice, since she hated my Menos ("I don't like the hands. I don't like the witch nose. I don't like them.") Anyway, a lot of improvement between sketch 1 and sketch 2 and I finally found an excuse to use my "photocopy error" brushes. Gonna try to do a few more of these, maybe even see if I can manage to do an actual drawing in this style.

Hrrrnnnngggh, did I promise you a preview this week? This would be easier if I had already read the fanfic, the thing I have been dreading.

UGH, brb.

Okay, I'm back, I found one that'll do. If you missed it last week, this story is about the time Rukia and Renji spent at the District 70 Consolidated Shinigami Recruitment Station, trying to get pre-approval to travel north and take the Shin'ou Entrance Exams. The title is either going to be Go Places or Stay with Me, Go Places, I haven't decided yet. Either way, it's after the New Pornographers song that I listened to incessantly while writing this.

They have each been given a set of practice clothing-- sturdy cotton kimonos and hakama. Even though she’s wearing the smallest set Mr. Mochida had, Rukia’s hakama are pulled up under her armpits and still drag on the ground. This is somewhat humiliating.

Renji, on the other hand, looks perfect in his, like whoever invented hakama did so with him in mind. Furthermore, he’s holding an actual wooden practice sword like he died with one in his hands. Renji has been habitually picking up sticks and swinging them around the entire time she’s known him. It is obvious to Rukia that he belongs here, that he was meant for this. His face looks like all his dreams have finally come true.

Mr. Mochida holds his own sword expertly and calmly. “Go ahead,” he says, patiently.

Renji runs at him swinging.

Mr. Mochida blocks the blow, pushing Renji off to one side. He shakes out his sword arm. “Good. Again.”

Renji has no skill at swords, but he has a lot of enthusiasm, and he has a lot of strength. Mr. Mochida doesn’t seem to have even broken a sweat by the time Renji is panting and exhausted, but he claps her friend on the shoulder and tells him he has a lot of talent.

Don’t tell him that! Rukia wants to scream. He’ll be unbearable!

“You’re next, Miss Rukia.”

Renji comes to take her place on the sidelines as Rukia takes up her own sword. It’s puny compared to the one Renji carries, and it’s still too long for her.

“You can do it,” he tells her. “You just have to push part of yourself into the sword, make it stronger.”

She nods, as if that makes any damn sense.

Rukia tries to imitate Mr. Mochida’s stance, knees slightly bent. She contemplates the weapon in her hands. It’s not a rock or a shard of glass or even a shiv. It’s just for practice, but it’s the size and shape of a weapon and you can certainly hurt someone with it. You and me, Rukia thinks at the sword. We can do some damage, you and me.

Push part of yourself into the sword. Maybe that’s not such nonsense after all.

She charges.

#writing update #art update

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nancyqueerler · 2 years

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I also NEED Max with ronance what IF Max wakes up and can see again, she's just stuck with crutches for a few months but she hates hospital and doesn't have a home to go back. Robin has a rented apartment and Max crashes in there with El, and Nancy too. A morning Max wakes up from nightmare, not sure she's dead or alive to find El hugging her while sleeping, she hears faint voices outside and when she manages to get through the door, Robin and Nancy are trying to make breakfast and coffees for the adults and hot chocolates for the kids. Max has never had a home, but now she has one, and it's right here.

This is part one! I ended up making the part where Max wakes up and Nancy and Robin are talking to her a bit long, so I'm splitting this in two!

Part two is here

Max had come to understand that the world—her world—had changed drastically.

That no longer was she the girl who aided in saving the world, but she was the girl that died and came back. The girl whose heart fell, went black, and somehow found the light again.

Her shattered bones were encased in plaster, knuckles to elbow and toe to knee. Numbed pain, restricted movement, aches all over. She could hardly recognize how her own body felt.

She had awoken from her coma around a month ago, yet her own soul felt like it did not belong there.

"Max?" called a voice, and Max barely registered it. Like a hollow echo that resounded off of her own skull.

"Hm?" she managed, blinking, glazed. Another thing that was far different was her eyesight; back at the Creel house, only black encompassed her vision. But now, everything was... fuzzed. Like a thin sheet of cotton had veiled over her pupils.

"Max, Nancy and Robin are here." It was Lucas. "Want to say hi?"

"Hi," was all she could say. Her throat felt unused, rusted.

"Hey, Max." Nancy. She felt a tap on her cast. "Do you feel better this morning?"

"Barely." Max wanted to roll off something sarcastic, but she was too heavy-hearted for that. She had been feeling that way for a while now. "Just hate it here. This place is so cold."

"The hospital?" asked Robin, then a wince. Nancy must have pinched her, Max thought.

"We talked to the doctors," said Nancy. "They said you're ready to be released. With regular checkups, but yeah."

Max reeled back to her house. The house her mom was a ghost in. The house where she would once wrap herself so tight in those frayed-at-the-seams blankets till there was only a thin space to breathe.

When was the last time mom came by? Max's toes twitched at the thought.

"When?" she asked, her voice scratched by the back of her mouth.

"They're going to run a checkup again today to verify, so if all goes well, then either tomorrow or by the end of the week."

"No." Max felt a cold dread grab onto her neck. "No, I don't want to go back home. I might hate it here, but... I don't want to be stuck with my mom again. Especially like this." Max struggled to get out all the words, rust coating each one.

Just as the following silence began to fall upon the room, Nancy breathed in a heavy breath. "Then you won't."

Max shifted her eyes aimlessly. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You won't go back to your mom." A kind hand came upon her shoulder, followed by a sickly sweet perfume that Max knew all too well as Nancy's.

"It's why we came here, really. We weren't sure if you'd accept, so..." Nancy patted a spot beside Max's hip. "Can I sit here?" Max nodded, and Nancy promptly took a seat.

"Robin, would you like to tell her?" she asked, and Max heard the rustle of a windbreaker. A hum, then an antsy splutter of words. Nancy told Robin to breathe, and she did. Max found herself doing the same.

"Max, you—you know how I told you I got my own place? A tiny apartment west of here? About a ten minute drive, really. Not that far. Real close to the Wheelers, Sinclairs, and Hendersons." Max could practically feel how Robin fidgeted with her rings and cracked at her fingers' joints.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well... I know I said it's tiny, but it's got two rooms," she said, voice thin as paper. "And—And it's cozy. You'd like it. Neighbors are quiet. No ruckus. And—"

"Robin, are you trying to ask me if I want to live with you?" Max, after a long, cold, lonesome month, felt a warmth thump out from her heart with each pulse of blood. It spread out, wreathing her chest and aches. Like a brunt of raw bliss.

"Y—Yes. Yes, that is what I'm trying to do." A moment of silence, a shift from Nancy. "Max Mayfield, would you like to live with me? Even if you're mom—"

Nancy cut in, slipping her hand into Max's, like she would break her fingers if she held too hard. "Your mom's been... AWOL for a few days. We've tried contacting her, but nothing's come up. Robin and I are willing to take care of you for as long as you need."

"Robin and I?" Max preferred to dismiss the news of her mother. "You'll be there too?" She wondered what it would be like to live with the two women she had looked up to for so long. To her, they were heroes of gold-plated hearts, minds of iron, and lion's courage.

Nancy faltered. "Uhm—Yes? I've, uh, been crashing at her place for the past few weeks. Is that okay? If I'm there, I mean."

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "No, that's great, actually. I'm..." It was hard to retain the grin that reached her eyes. The warmth was brimming like a glowing, yellow liquid, bleeding into each cut and bruise of her body. It overflowed, to the extent of bulging out tears.

"Wait, oh my God." Nancy stood up, panicked, hands hovering over Max's face. "Shit, did I do something wrong?"

Suddenly Robin and Lucas were near, startled by Max's tears. She wanted to shoo them away, but had to settle for shaking her head and jerking her chin out to ask for space.

"I'm okay, really, just... I'm overwhelmed. Thank you."

"For?" Robin piped in.

"For what else?" Max rolled her eyes, still grinning her pearls. "I'd love to live with you and Nancy, Robin. Thank you."

Thanks for the prompt! Max is my beloved and I want her happy. Also, I didn't want to just get rid of her blindness magically, so...

Ngl I want to turn this into a whole short fic but yeah. Ronance + Max would be so good that I don't think the Duffers would ever give it to us.

#max mayfield #ronance #heron's writing #st4 spoilers

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study-coffee-chicago · 2 years

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Just imagining halstead sister having a baby and jay and will spoiling them also fighting on who’s the better uncle and jay getting emotional when she names him and hailey the godparents

Not totally what you requested, but here's a little bit of Uncle Jay and Uncle Will for you!

“We see Uncle Jay and Uncle Will today, too?” your four-year-old daughter, Emmy, asked excitedly as you walked hand-in-hand into the fair.

“Yup. They said they’d be by the–”

“Uncle Jay! Uncle Will!” she exclaimed as she saw them standing by the ticket booth and quickly let go of your hand to run to them.

“Emmy! What did we talk about in the car? You have to stay with Mommy.”

At that moment, she crashed into Jay’s open arms and he picked her up and quickly put her on his shoulders.

“But it’s just Uncle Jay and Uncle Will!” she protested.

“Yeah, Y/N. It’s just Uncle Jay and Uncle Will,” Jay parroted.

“Shut it,” you told him.

“Now, now, Y/N. Be nice,” Will told you.

“I would swear at you, but my daughter’s here, so I’ll refrain from that."

“Good choice,” Jay said and you just rolled your eyes at him. He turned his head up to look at Emmy who was still sitting atop his shoulders. “Where to first, Munchkin?”

“Rides! The spinny apple one!”

“Pukefest for Y/N it is,” Will chuckled. “How much do we have to pay you to get on one after last time?”

“Nothing because I won’t be going on it. And, my motion sickness has gotten much worse since I was a teenager, so Mommy will not be going on spinny rides today.”

“But why not, Mommy?” your daughter pouted.

“Because, sometimes when things spin really fast, Mommy gets sick. Remember how you felt when you had to miss school one day?” She nodded. “That’s how Mommy feels when she has to go on spinny rides.”

“And that’s why Daddy always goes on them with me?”

Your husband—and Emmy’s dad—was a professional hockey player currently playing in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Unfortunately for you and Emmy, this meant not seeing him a lot. Despite seeing him a lot during the regular season whenever he played home games in Chicago, you knew with travel and games every other day and how high the stakes were, that you wouldn’t see your husband in person until him and his team either were eliminated in one of the first three rounds, or the playoffs came to an end of the team made it to the finals in late June.

“That’s exactly why. Good job!” you praised.

“But can Uncle Will and Uncle Jay ride the rides with me?”

“Of course, we will!” Will told your little girl excitedly. “And we’ll go super duper fast!”

***

“I think Miss Emmy here is having a bit of a sugar crash,” Will said as Emmy yawned once again and laid her head against his chest because he was currently carrying her on his hip.

“Was it the cotton candy from you?” you asked and pointed to Jay. “Or was it the ice cream from you?” You turned and pointed to Will.

“I plead the fifth,” Jay said quickly and put his hands up in surrender.

“Me, too,” Will added quickly.

“Well then, we’ll be watching enough hockey and movies until she wakes up in the middle of the night, and then you two can deal with her. You know since it’s only 6:00 that she’s not going to sleep through the night if she falls asleep now, right?”

They both groaned, but they agreed.

***

After you gave Emmy a much-needed bath and Will and Jay read her a bedtime story, you and your brothers were having some much-needed relaxing time—without your daughter interfering. You guys were currently watching hockey and had been for about two hours when you heard little footsteps and quiet sniffles.

You quickly shoved your hard seltzer into Jay’s hand and got up to go to your little girl.

“Sweetie, what’s the matter?” you asked as you picked her up. She held tight to you with one arm and clutched her blanket in the other.

“You- You watchin’ Daddy with-without me!” she cried and buried her face in your neck.

“You were sleeping, sweetie. We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“But- But I wanna watch Daddy play!” she cried.

“Let her stay, Y/N. She’ll conk out by the end of the period anyway,” Will suggested.

“Will!” you hissed.

“C’mon. You know she’ll be the good luck charm, too. And how can we the fun uncles if we don’t let her stay up late?” Jay asked.

“Yeah, how can we be the funcles?” Will asked.

“What’s a fuckle?” Emmy asked quickly.

Jay choked on his drink and Will’s eyes widened, realizing what he had just done.

“Uncle Will was being silly and said the wrong word, baby,” you said quickly. “He meant to say fun uncle. He’s your uncle and you always have fun like watching movies and going to the fair with him.”

“Oh.”

“You can stay up and watch Daddy play,” you gave in.

“Yay!” Emmy cheered.

You quickly set her down between Jay and Will and took your hard seltzer back from Jay. Needless to say, when you went into the kitchen to grab Emmy a juice box, you chugged the rest of that sucker.

You hoped she’d never say fuckle again.

But hey, she was half Halstead, so she probably would. And this was all thanks to her uncles. You knew they loved Emmy, but sometimes they needed to shut up.

“Mommy! Goal! Mommy! They score!” Emmy yelled.

And so, you quickly ran out of the kitchen to continue watching the game with Emmy and your brothers.

And despite the fact that your brothers spoiled Emmy rotten, you knew she could have no better a combination of role models between her dad and her uncles.

#jay halstead #will halstead #halstead sister #hc #headcanon #jay halstead headcanon #will halstead headcanon #chicago pd headcanon #chicago med headcanon #will halstead hc #jay halstead hc #writer #writing #my writing

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flyingmycolours · 1 year

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Custom Care Bear - Sulley Bear! (Monsters Inc.)

I was a little bored last week, just chatting with some friends on a discord server, and I felt like sewing, so I asked if anyone would like a custom Care Bear. One of our group members, the always creative @thrawnsromcom , had an interesting suggestion -- a Monsters Inc themed bear based on Sulley.

I just so happened to have a 2018 “Easter” Wish Bear in a lamb costume, as seen in this pic:

l had got her as part of a bulk lot, and honestly had no idea what to do with her. She ended up being perfect to “cosplay” as something else!

I used a felt-layering technique to make the tummy symbol, with sparkly embroidered outlines. The pupil of the eye is also embroidered, and scraps of blue fabric from the M made for the perfect foot claws.

The horns are custom made, out of purple cotton. The hood can still be pulled back, showing regular Care Bear ears underneath.

The old lamb ears were repurposed to make Sulley’s tail!

Finally, I made a “Little Mikey” plushie to go along with him. I found the pattern for Little Mikey at the linked youtube video, though I had to modify it a bit due to how tiny the “plushie’s plushie” ended up being.

Little Mikey’s eye and mouth are also hand-embroidered.

Still wish I could have figured out how to give him Sulley’s purple fur splotches (I don’t think I could have pulled off dyeing him without messing up the rest of his fur), but I think he turned out pretty good, all things considering :D

Thanks again, @thrawnsromcom for giving me such a great idea! I hope you love your bear just as much as I enjoyed making him!

#custom Care Bear #james p. sullivan #Sulley Monsters Inc #Monsters Inc #Cosplaying Care Bear #such a creative project

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jennablackmorebooks · 6 months

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@kvr0ii if you don't mind, I'm going to answer on this blog, since I want to keep it somewhat separate from my main blog so I can remain uh. employable. extremely dystopian world isn't it

(Context: I made a post on my secret personal blog something about how it's totally cool for my friends to message me at 1 AM to ask about what textiles my characters wear; I considered doing the same thing to some of my friends before getting nervous about it.)

Mae turns 20 just before mid-2016, though the year is never quite stated in the text because every year we move farther and farther away from 2016. She's 19 when she gets her wings at the start of Rainbow. She's not at the point of developing a professional wardrobe for a workplace, she's still able to afford the clothes she wants, and because of the year she's relatively uninfluenced by microtrends and tiktok aesthetics (in fact, if you asked her about Tik Tok, she'd probably think of the song). At this point, business casual was on the back end of having its moment, narrower pants were in style, and while people were talking about sustainable fashion, it wasn't as prevalent casually as discussion of it is now.

There are a few styles that are pretty popular around this time, which she probably gets at the shops. Specifically, we see her with items such as a blazer, a couple of dresses (including one full of glitter), a hoodie, and knit leggings. The blazer is never really something that the origin is revealed of, though it is something Mae hadn't seen in a few months at one point but was familiar enough with to recognise, so we can't be entirely sure if it's perhaps an old wool blazer, or one of the new polyester blazers that were so easy to find in just about any mall clothing store in the mid-2010s. She cut a hole in the arm of it, so it couldn't have been too expensive. She does wear it to go flying over a lake, which wouldn't be the ideal thing to do with wool. Still, I'm going to suggest this might not be completely a win for polyester, since Mae complains of the heat quite a lot, and wool would be more breathable than polyester would be. I'll suggest perhaps this is a secondhand wool blazer. It still holds its structure after being owned a while and also cut in the sleeve, which , having personally owned some of those 2010s mall blazers, I know they wouldn't really have done all that well. The blazer is long, so it might have been a vintage oversized.

Her glitter-covered periwinkle dress, however, is all polyester and plastic, and her knit leggings are probably acrylic and elastane. I think her white dress might be linen, because of its pairing with the azalea crown as a sort of counter to the deeply unnatural Deirdre and Mae's change since acquiring the wings. But, it would have to be quite fitted at the top, since it's strapless. She describes it as a flowing dress, so the bottom is probably quite loose; it's great for the weather since it's an excellent material for hot days, and it flows quite well when there's enough fabric. The sequins on her concert suit are plastic, and the velvet of her boots probably acetate or polyester. The shirt she wears with it is silver, which suggests a non-natural fibre to get that really shiny look, and it wouldn't be silk since she's buying it in a random mall store for one specific event.

(As an aside, when she borrows Kaio's clothes, those are cotton. He's a flannel and jeans and t-shirts sort of lad for his everyday outfits.)

Mae, for the safety of her wings, can get away with wearing whatever she feels like; she never really has scale troubles. Perhaps due to the engineered nature of her wings, physical limitations such as the permanence of scales or the weight of her bones for flight never really matter that much. She notices that the small wing she activates her own wings with is not subject to the whims of physics that regular butterfly wings would be:

And I imagine the same is mostly true for the wings she develops. She never mentions taking precaution (despite her nervous nature) to keep her scales from falling off, and perhaps they do not. As butterfly scales do not grow back, perhaps the solution was for Kaio to engineer the wings in such a way that the loss of scales would not be a factor in the first place. This lets Mae wear whatever she feels like, and she seems to prioritize cut and colour over fibre content, recognising articles of her own and other people's clothing by these features instead of by their fibre content, excepting Keiko's silk dress, something that others Keiko due to its anachronistic nature to the time they live in, and the leathers of Feris who is still apart from Mae and Kaio in the sense of how she gained her wings and her connection with Tornin, and Iron Filings for concert outfits, which are deviations from what she's used to seeing them wear. So, textiles are mostly important to Mae when they serve to mark the wearer as different.

Thank you so much for asking, this was so fun to answer! :D

#i love textile fibres i love textile fibres #Rainbow #Mae Chouko #ask

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blackjackkent · 5 months

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OK, into the main prison area.

It's an enormous cavern, half-collapsed and half-built through, a mixture of stone cells and makeshift wooden platforming. The overall shape is a large ring around the central pillar, with a pathway eventually leading over to this ominous-looking thing:

So I guess we'll just proceed in a circle and see what we find.

And peering into the first cell, look who we see! Tiefling friends!

Yay! \o/

Danis here is the husband of the lady back at Last Light who was super upset and worrying about him, so I'm very glad to see he's still alive. Lakrissa, next to him here, was one of the tiefling guards at the grove. (Apparently if she lives, she and Alfira start dating, so that's cute.)

Even better, up by the door are Cal and Lia, Rolan's siblings!

As Hector approaches, they're talking about how they hope Rolan's okay, but also that he isn't the one to rescue them because they will never hear the end of it. LOL.

Let's see if we can get them out.

This situation is made more complicated by the fact that the guards do not want us talking with the prisoners - "These prisoners are for Disciple Balthazar's attention only." While I can persuade them to let me be, it does still interrupt the initial conversation with Cal and Lia which is annoying.

However, there's a considerable amount of time while the guard isn't nearby - the main problem is the two scrying eyes also drifting around the place. And I was able to have Karlach one-hit smash both of them while the guard was elsewhere. We then all stood around and looked incredibly innocent while the guard walked in circles in the area and mumbled "Who could have done this?" and "What happened here?"

After a while, though, she lost interest and went back to her regular patrol route, and so we're able to talk to Lia and Cal for a little bit without being interrupted.

The bit of conversation we get is both interesting and concerning.

"Let me guess - 'The Absolute is the only way'? Don't bother. Why don't you and Zevlor take a long walk off a short cliff?"

Uh oh. It may be worse than I thought - did Zevlor not only surrender but join the cultists?

Lia clearly doesn't recognize us, but it was a pretty quick persuasion check to convince her we're here to help. Cal mentioned that the gnomes next door are cooking up a plan to get out, so let's see what that's about.

"Nimble! Check for gaps, cracks - anything to leverage the rock. Nickels - tools. Get creative. This rock is basalt. It'll crack with enough pressure."

'Eyyy, it's Wulbren!

We heard about this guy from one of the gnomes we rescued back in Grymforge. That guy mentioned that Wulbren Bongle was their leader, and that he'd been taken on to Moonrise. And even if Hector hadn't known that, he would have recognized this fellow as a leader; he seems capable and direct, full of some plan.

Recognizing that he's being overheard, Wulbren spins sharply and looks up at Hector through the bars.

"Ah! Don't mind us, True Soul! The back wall is weak - we're looking to brace it."

At this point the guard finally cottoned on to what was happening and broke up the chat; Hector was able to hit the persuasion check to be allowed to keep talking, which Wulbren seemed suitably impressed (albeit concerned) by.

"You ordered that guard about as if you were the Absolute herself. What do you want with us, exactly?"

"I'm here to help you escape," Hector says promptly - voice low, to avoid attracting further attention from the overeager wandering guard.

"Huh," Wulbren says doubtfully. "And why would you be so inclined."

[PERSUASION] "I know the tieflings imprisoned here," Hector says earnestly. "I want to break you all out."

(A/N: We got advantage on this check with the label "Trusted by other prisoners"; being friendly gets results!)

Wulbren considers this thoughtfully for a moment. "Those spitfires?" He grunts approvingly. "They certainly gave the guards a run for their money. And they'd be a help in the escape..." He nods, coming to a decision, and offers Hector a comfortable grin. "I reckon you and I were meant to meet. I'm Wulbren."

Hector grins back. He likes this guy; Wulbren seems confident without being cocky, even in such a terrible place, and smart to boot. "I'm Hector Carlisle," he answers. "Pleasure to meet you."

"We've got a plan," Wulbren says, speaking faster now as he sees the guard's path swinging back towards them. "For us and the tieflings both - but we're scuppered without the right equipment. We need tools. That headcase of a Warden robbed ours, but anything that breaks rock will do - even if it's not Ironhand quality. Whatever you find, throw it through the bars. But for the love of Gaerdal, make sure a guard doesn't see you, or we're both done for."

Hector feels energized by the brisk decisiveness of the man's attitude and nods sharply. It feels good to have a plan, even a small one.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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oh-dameron · 1 year

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Monkey D Luffy is the only wizard PI in the Chicago phonebook.

Luffy's magic is almost entirely around physical augmentation. He's developed a signature technique that lets him stretch his body. He can't explain how he does it, and no-one else has the faintest idea how he's doing it. Luffy has vast stores of mana and willpower but his fine control isn't great. When he gets involved in a case the only things you can be sure of are that he'll win, and that the property damage will be ludicrous.

Zoro is the Knights of the Cross. All three of them (overacheiver). Technically he never gets lost, but only because he never really knows where he is to begin with: he just walks in a direction, gets on any bus or plane that presents itself, and Providence delivers him wherever he's supposed to be. It's not often the destination he had in mind when he set out, but there generally ends up being a fight so it all works out.

Nami is a wizard who never joined the White Council. She's an elementalist with specialties in air and water, and while she doesn't have Luffy's vast reserves of mana her control is a lot more precise. Once she got away from evil wizard Arlong Du Morne's mind control she set to travelling the Never-Never, mapping new pathways and shortcuts through the dream world. When she isn't travelling she lives in the Chicago house her mother left to her. She is deeply involved in the paranormal community, and works hard to protect her people from magical threats. She is Luffy's first phonecall whenever anything happens and does most of the actual detective-ing.

Usopp has six or more side-hustles instead of a regular job, including graphic design, freelance paranormal reporting, and providing endless mechanical repairs for Luffy's clapped-out VW Beetle (the car was originally blue but half the panels have been replaced. There is a bobblehead sheep ornament on the dashboard). He has no innate ability for magic, but he's worked out gadgets that let him use it anyway: goggles to let him see spellcasting, a skateboard that runs on mana dials, a sligshot that fires arcane bullets. He helped Nami upgrade her wand and in return she graciously lets him house-sit for a reduced rate when she's out of town and run a workshop out of her garage (Usopp says he should be paid for watering her plants. Nami claims he's squatting and owes her rent. Usopp says you can't tell tenants to sleep in the garage the one week in four you are home. This argument has been ongoing for serveral years at this point).

Sanji hit a rough patch after he distanced himself from his birth family (again): he ended up crashing on the ratty sofa in Luffy's one-bedroom basement apartment for far too long (thoroughly foiling Usopp's plans to have a regular alternate crashpad for that one week in four). The White Court vampires have backed off for now: Reiju is a lot easier to deal with than Judge, though if anything she's even more dangerous. It's not easy being a semi-reformed incubus, but it's been better since Sanji's started working as a stylist, flitting around beautiful women all day and sustaining himself through the intimacy of the salon. He'd rather be back working as a chef at the Baratie, but as much love as he puts into the food he can't draw nourishment from it. He's slowly starving, but his code won't allow him to feed on unwilling people.

Chopper is a reindeer were-human. He's working as a medical examiner for now because he's just not used to humans enough to pretend to be one full-time. Also, he's too young for living patients to take him seriously just yet. He likes cotton candy and polka music (he does not like being complimented, bastard!).

Robin is The Archive: a magical repository of all human knowledge. The construct resides in a human and is passed down from mother to daughter. Twenty years ago The White Council determined that The Archive presented a threat and assassinated the previous Archive, passing the sum of all human knowledge to an eight-year old. They have hunted Robin ever since in an attempt to finish the job.

Brook is a Spirit of Air and Intellect bound to a real human skull. He is Luffy's tutor in all things arcane. Likes: panties, dirty books, music, the internet. Dislikes: sunlight, ghosts, being bound to a skull. When the situation calls for it Luffy can attatch the skull to a dummy skeleton and Brook can pilot it around like a body. The skeleton is eight feet tall (it was from Home Depot) and he still has a skull for a face, so it's not an everyday thing ("I'll wear an afro wig, a top hat, a purple suit and sunglasses! No-one will notice my face, not that I have a face for them to notice! Yohohoho!"). Luffy always lets him pick the music.

I'm not sure about Franky, Jimbe, Vivi (Summer Lady?) or Yamato, though I have Thoughts about Svartalves, Formorians, and Kincaid.

Luffy is not popular with the Marines White Council of Wizards, but having a powerful grandfather high up in the organisation helps. The old man can't stand politics, but he's strong enough that the others can't just ignore his opinion.

Monkey D Dragon is busy at the Outer Gates.

The Order of the Blackened Denarius is led by Rob Lucci.

Gecko Moria was leading the Black Court vampires but shit has kind of gone sideways for them ever since they went all-in on summoning the Last Titan (whose ass Luffy kicked).

There are no confirmed members of the Black Council, but lbr it's Blackbeard and crew.

Whitebeard is Vadderung, which makes Marco and Ace Valkyries (you're welcome) I guess and Ace could be an Einherjaren but that's less fun

Shanks is the Leansidhe.

Law is Marcone (sorry I don't make the rules). unless Crocodile is Marcone. Hmm, both? Either?

Kaido was the head of the Red Court of Vampires, but good luck finding any of them to ask how that's going. He's also an Actual Dragon sometimes called Ferrovax.

There's an incredibly powerful guy who doesn't have a crew and just hangs out in his big gothic castle by himself: Drakul Mihawk (that's it he's just the same guy, down to adopting the remains of the Black Court).

#one piece #dresden files #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #nami #nico robin #tony tony chopper #usopp #mashup #kind of astonished this all fits together as well as it does tbh #one piece urban fantasy AU

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scoutdoesstuff · 2 years

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hi hello ok. so this was supposed to be posted on august 24th for my little august tea prompt challenge and that. didn't quite happen. but i'm posting it now!!

i'll be trying to get the rest of the challenge out by the end of this week, btw, though posting may be a little erratic on my end. as always, everything will wind up in the masterpost i've got going, though, so feel free to check that from time to time if you're following along (thank you for following along if you are!!).

august 24th's ficlet is another possible homestead verse chunk. this time, we're going to the fair with the flavor white peach.

Jack’s perched on top of Dean’s shoulders, little kid arms wrapped around Dean’s face, and chubby kid fingers interlaced under Dean’s chin. He’s getting dangerously close to a nap time, even for a kid who could decide what age he is at a whim. His once enthusiastic song about peaches is dimming down to a sort of distracted muttering that’s getting close to a creepy witches chant.

“You ready to head home, Jack Attack?” Dean asks, tilting his head up slightly to try and catch Jack’s attention.

“Peaches, peaches, peeaacheesss,” Jack sings, voice cracking on the high notes. Then Jack sighs, awfully mournful for someone who had eaten their weight in fruit and fried dough today.

Sam stifles a laugh in his cotton candy next to Dean. Dean had been designated as the Jack wrangler today which made Sam their sherpa for the day. It also meant that, for once, Sam had eaten more junk food that Dean had, if only because Dean hadn’t had the damn time after chasing Jack around.

The kid was technically indestructible, yeah, but Dean still didn’t want him to accidentally get kicked in the head by a goat. Those things were fucked up. Eyes weren’t supposed to look like that.

The fair had been his idea. Sam had been going through the local papers, more out of habit than any real desire for a hunt, and Dean had seen a blurb about the local fair. Dean and Sam had never really gone as kids, outside of one truly disastrous first date Dean had had in high school. Cindy Martins had been really fucking cute but really fucking freaked out by the fact that Dean could hit a bullseye at twenty paces again and again and again. Sixteen year old Dean had thought he could impress her with his sharp shooting and distract from the fact that he didn’t have any money for food by stuffing her arms with the creepy, dead eyed stuffed animals. It hadn’t quite worked out like that, though.

Anyway, Dean wanted Jack Attack to have normal kid memories, even if he wasn’t exactly a normal kid. All kids liked animals and shitty food and the extremely unhygienic death trap rides, though, so Dean had tossed the idea out to Sam of them going to the fair. Sam had done one of those weird sort of frown, sort of agreement faces he does and gone yeah, sure, Dean and that was that.

Jack had been a bit too small for the rollercoasters, but he’d fallen in love with the frankly terrifying swing contraption that looked … awful from the ground. When Dean’s nerves couldn’t handle his — Cas’ — kid going twenty feet up in the air on something that was deconstructed and reconstructed in twelve hours every other weekend, they’d wandered over and found the animals. Jack developed several deep and intense friendships with some of the petting zoo animals and had a minor meltdown when his time in the pen was up. Both Dean and Sam had a blinding moment of terror, images of their kid — Cas’ kid — showing up on every “can you believe it or not” website on the planet with headlines like “baby with the face of an angel screams everyone within 100 miles deaf after being pulled from petting zoo pen before he was ready”.

Jack didn’t go full nuclear, though, just regular six year old pissy. Sam — stupidly, in Dean’s opinion — promised Jack he could maybe get a pet of his very own soon if he stopped crying. Jack had taken a couple of hiccuping breaths and scrubbed at his face with his tiny hands and stared at Sam like he’d just promised Jack the world. Watching Sammy gently wipe Jack’s tears and talk to Jack like he was family made something weird and warm worm its way into Dean’s chest.

They’re driving home now. Jack’s dead to the world in his booster seat, mouth open in a silent little kid snore, Sam’s tapping away at his phone in the passenger seat, and Dean’s watching the world roll by while the Mamas and the Papas croon softly from the Impala’s stereo.

“Dog or cat?” Dean asks, keeping his voice pitched low so that Jack won’t wake up.

Sam grunts and looks up from his phone, face scrunched in confusion.

“Do you want a dog?” Dean says, slower but still with his voice pitched low. “Or a cat?”

“I don’t know if we’re really positioned to have either right now, Dean,” Sam says, sounding hideously reasonable about it all.

“You just promised our magic six year old a pet today, Sammy,” Dean says. He can’t even bother to hide his smile.

Sam scoffs. “He’s a three month old in a six year old’s body, Dean. He’s not gonna remember.”

“You never forgot,” Dean says. Sammy stares at his profile for the next six miles, a frown slowly growing on his face.

#spn #my fic #tea prompts #the good news is that this little writing exercise has made room in my brain for me to work on homestead again #the bad news is that i gassed myself with my writing goals and kind of collapsed on myself two thirds of the way through the challenge lol #anyway hope you guys enjoy this bit

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uj453 · 1 year

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christmas lives in vigo

18/12/2021

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christmas lives in vigo

you would have loved the dilapidated conditions of many of the buildings. You would have loved the facades of the buildings that were standing up with nothing behind them. Windows that people would have looked through, now becoming windows of the hollowness inside. You would have loved the traces and remnants of the buildings that are no more - onto the buildings it was surrounded by. They put a yellow paint on the walls adjacent to the one that was broken down. Probably it’s not just yellow paint but something which has more functionality to it to, than just being a marker. But the markers were so ever present in the city, it is clear they are really trying to rebuild the city, into this idea and imagination of the modern. The city boasts itself as the city where christmas lives. It full of lights, too many and too much of them. Light installations that seem that they are there just because the pressure to maintain the city’s own reputation as the city of christmas lights is too much. And this is something that needs to be done. Otherwise, there might be an identity crisis. There were sculptures and sculptures of Santa’s sleigh, of everything christmas, and many things not. Of a huge giant bear sitting, which was attracting everyone from all age groups to sit on it’s lap for a photograph. And suddenly you would see the police running in the streets with a very alert alarming whistles. And I was like shit what happened. They were clearing the way for the christmas toy train, full of adults, wearing masks, and no sign of enthusiasm. None of that young drunk partying college kids. These were adults, almost like in a public transport system. The cops kept whistling and running in front of the train to clear it’s path, the engine driver would give a couple of bells every now and then, clearly displaying his own ability to honk/bell the streets clear. Or just to remind everyone that christmas lives in vigo.

This was all part of the fiesta, the giant wheel which would light up in various colours and have almost strobe like effects (remember, it’s teh city of lights), the kids roller coaster rides, the merry go around s, the cotton candy stores. you told me that you couldn’t afford cotton candy as a kid, and now here we were, with really sticky sugary fingers, sugar filled mouths, of so much we ate, that all just dissolved into thin air. the paella that was so good insistingly served to me by the airbnb host. the airbnb host who was widowed and lived there with her daughter, renting out every room, nook and corner possible of the flat, to let the money come in. the dog that was so sadly locked into the room, so that ‘the guests’ wouldn’t be disturbed. and the nephew who would sleep in the living room and just not get up, depite our host really screaming her lungs out. all so lively, all so energetic, with so much buzz, kisses on the cheeks, with churrizos and with cheese, with regular bread and with croissants, with a packet of local sweet snack left on the side of the bed. and yet with so much heaviness in the air. of an absence, of these fleeting presence of strange people, of the young daughter who was in her room throughout our stay. of not being sure of what you do with the mask rule when meeting the airbnb guests, and not being sure of what to do with the mask rule when meeting the airbnb hosts.

Somehow it reminded me of the truck stop cities we have in india. transitionary places. of places which would end up not having so much of their own identity. was a port town like vigo also similar like that somehow. the port is visible and clear and forms a nice lovely view from various parts of the city. from the few remanants of a castle or a fort. you can see the port, you can see the town on the other side of the water body, which is almost like a backwater, you can see through offices where people are working on computers and have huge ass windows, and you can look at offices where there was no one right then. The building said buas festas. happy holidays. and then you can see the cranes. the cranes all pointing towards the future that is going to be, of a promise land of development, and all this construction is all towards building the future of vigo we want to see. a future visible in the train station already. of basically being a mall where you have the h&m’s, the mangos, the body stores, and of course you can pick up train tickets. of this neat clean white sanitized building which shouts out vigo in huge letters on side (which is lit like crazy in the evenings of course- it is the city where you come to see the lights after all). But what about the old man who spent two to three hours in the morning trying to fill up sand in between the tiles that had been presumably new laid out just on the porch of the swanky new train station. In this new clean improved city, you donT need to see the train of course, they are hidden in the tunnels, which form the basis of the train stations and the platforms there. but where will the remanants of the sand that is being put in the gaps of tiles go? or the person who did?

where will all these remanants go, of old buildings, of buildings that are no more. you can now access the fort through a series of escalators right from the street/road. and there was a marking for a cathedral. we couldn’t find the cathedral. we found some churches, we found lots of christmas, but somehow not the cathedral. maybe it was in one of the yellow painted walls.

1 Comment

Sarita narayan

25/3/2022 07:59:19 pm

बस्तियाँ उजड़ जाती है , निशानियाँ छोड़ जाती है , ये दस्तूर पुरानी है ,,,, Enjoyed reading it

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