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greentrickster · 2 years ago

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@droogproxy #my mind went 'oh funny bingliushen' -> oooh powerpoint! -> 'foaming at the mouth for mutually supportive platonic bingliu' #very efficient op! #can't believe powerpoint is such a powerful medium even when it's not technically even in use

Powerpoints are truly the most powerful weapon, even in worlds where the appropriate technology does not exist and instant you have to make the poster-boards and stand yourself and use an old-fashioned wooden pointer as you set each ‘slide’ on the floor behind you when you’re done with it! Possibly... possibly it’s too powerful, this wasn’t how I was planning to have the relationship go when I started writing the post and yet here we are! Not that I’m upset about it, but it’s always a bit of a surprise to end up at an unintended destination, you know?

Anyway, the point is that Binghe’s successfully started the Companionable Hearts quest line, even if he’s still a little sulky about it at the moment, why does he have to share Shizun with stupid Qingge? :<

(He’s working through his issues, but that inclination to be possessive of people he loves/cares about is one he’s still struggling with at times, especially when it comes to Shen Qingqiu, it’s caused by some deep-seated issues that are taking time to uproot.)

Except then he does manage to get Liu Qingge to work with him on this, and Qingge starts being nicer to him as a result, and maybe he’s not so bad after all, and wow, you really are, in fact, Just That Bad at talking to and interacting with people, huh.

...

...has no one looked into this? Feels like something someone in the Sect should have looked into, that their War God’s so bad with words even around people he likes and with topics he enjoys, like maybe there’s an underlying issue or condition here or something...? What Binghe wouldn’t give for the internet and some psych websites right now, why didn’t he read more of that while he was with Tatsu-sensei...

Oh well! The good househusband makes due with what he has, time for Li’l Bro Binghe to sort things out! And maybe shift to questions with simple answers for the moment that don’t necessarily need full words to answer! Important thing is, huh, no wonder Shizun likes you so much, you’re a total tsundere gap-moe type, aren’t you Liu-shishu? Masa-aniki always said those were super popular, guess it’s true.

He’s in the middle of cutting out pieces to make a piplup pillow for LQG to go with Shizun’s tortwig and his chimchar when Binghe realizes, “Oh crap, I think I like him as a person but I don’t even want to kiss him, and I might want to keep spending time with him even if Shizun doesn’t marry him, what am I supposed to do with these horrible, inappropriate, unnatural feelings?!?”

Because, like. He’s doing so, so much better, but he’s still Binghe. It’s hard to get him to change his mind about people, he probably does so pretty slowly, and he still struggles with holding grudges and being possessive, as mentioned. Realizing he’s totally revised how he feels about someone and didn’t even notice himself doing it is a big shock to his system. (Not his System system, though, that one’s been pushing for this for over a year now, it’s just excited.)

He probably gets up from his sewing and goes and just lies face down in one of the training grounds until Ming Fan or Ning Yingying find him and get to enjoy the delightful task of convincing him that making friends with Shizun’s friends is probably a good thing. It probably takes Shen Qingqiu coming out and talking to Binghe about how he’s glad that LQG and he are getting along better, because he really enjoys spending time with both of them together, before Binghe finally manages to process enough to continue on with his existence day.

And Liu Qingge does eventually get that pillow and gets confused and flustered when Binghe explains about it being part of a set of three and that he and Shen Qingqiu have the other two. Because, as far as I’m aware, Liu Qingge is as desperately in need of good friends as Binghe.

These two are about to team up and become absolute menaces to polite society, Binghe just gained a powerful ally in his quest to make Tianlang-jun/Yue QIngyuan canon.

Before Binghe starts actively courting Shizun he realizes that he’s going to have to deal with his most dangerous opponent in this goal: Liu Qingge. He is a powerful adversary who has an (annoying) amount going for him and also those four years Binghe wasn’t there to bond with him. This will take strategy, and a deft hand.

Binghe: (pointing at the third slide of thirty-six slide presentation on why it would be better for Shizun to marry him first) Furthermore, Big Bro Liu is a skilled warrior, but has demonstrated no ability or training in keeping house or entertaining company, both of which are key duties of the first spouse. I, in contrast, have been training for such things my whole life, and would in fact prefer to be the one to handle such things-

(Slide seven gets into how LQG, being a war god, would be better suited for protecting Shizun from enemies and finding him cool monsters via night hunts)

(Slide nine allows for the possibility of LQG taking Shizun along on night hunts, but Binghe gets to come too because he doesn’t trust LQG’s cooking skills)

(Slide fifteen is just “Can you even balance a budget?”, that’s it, that’s the whole slide, it is accompanied by a pointed look and nothing more)

(Slide seventeen gets into how two balance two peak lords being married to each other and living arrangements)

(Slide twenty-two I’m the caretaker, you’re the provider, and Shizun is spoiled rotten, this is how things should be)

(Slide twenty-five admits that Binghe and LQG will probably have to start getting along if they want this to work since Shizun likes both of them)

(Slide twenty-six adds that, as a husband instead of househusband, LQG has 0% right to wearing a character apron. He can have a regular one to help around the house if asked, if he has complaints learn how to do laundry, the character apron is a privilege, not a right)

(Slide twenty-seven puts forth a potential breakdown of timetables for when they should each start courting and how they should support each other in these endeavors)

(Slide thirty-five relents that this is, of course, all hinged on Shizun being willing to marry either of them - Shizun’s word is law)

(Slide thirty-six: Questions?)

Liu Qingge has many questions and much confusion, especially over the fact that Binghe seems to be making some legitimately good points and have some decent ideas in here, especially regarding both their strengths and weaknesses.

And, while I do enjoy a nice throuple with these three, a good ol’ equilateral triangle relationship, in this AU I like the idea of Shen Qingqiu being in romantic relationships with both Binghe and Liu Qingge, and Binghe and Liu Qingge in a queer platonic relationship with each other. The idea of them somehow sliding into this quiet, mutually supportive relationship laced with non-sexual intimacy and shoring up each others’ weaknesses. And Luo Binghe stays home while Liu Qingge comes and goes as he needs and pleases, and they all give and receive different things from each other.

Thinking about it, it might be interesting if Liu QIngge was actually more comfortable with Binghe visiting his dream realm than Shen Qingqiu, just because in his dream realm there’s the whole environment to communicate what he wants to say instead of just words, which he has a hard time with. Possibly Binghe could teach him a little about controlling his personal dream realm, maybe learn how to send messages in dreams so he has a way to call for help if something happens on a mission or night hunt and there’s no one nearby to help him. In return, Liu Qingge helps Binghe re-hone his sword skills (regardless of iteration, this world they live in is dangerous and fighting skills are basically a requirement, even for a househusband), since he and Binghe are both physical cultivators in contrast to Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual cultivation…

…also this was meant to be a semi-humorous post about Binghe trying to get Liu Qingge to go along with his plans via a slideshow, when did it turn into serious relationship development and exploration between the two of them and how this relationship fits into this AU…?

Anyway, point is, these two can be super hot together, but I’ve enamored myself with them quietly leaning on each other in this AU as they care for the man they both love in their own ways.

#The Hopeful Hybrid's Househusbanding System #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #liu qingge #bingliushen #platonic bingliu #droogproxy #the sudden realization that Lie Qingge is absolutely not neurotypical #like I think some of the SVSSS characters are but Liu Qingge is absolutely Not One Of Them #(cradles LQG's face in my hands: how did you manage to be so neurodivergent without me noticing?)#(spoilers: it's because I'm neurodivergent but also crap at spotting it in other people)

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polarisbibliotheque · 3 years ago

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Dante & Vergil finally having a relaxing bathtub time with their s/o

Because everyone needs to wind down every once in a while.

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone needs relaxing. In the Sparda household, that is done through baths with trusted lovers

Author's notes: I think I'm always going to put some poem reciting on Vergil's stuff. I am so sorry. But he cannot get away from it anymore - as Dante can't get away from chatting with his s/o while chilling on his big office chair.

And there's no NSFW in it. I know, weird.

Also, do check Pablo Neruda's work. He is one of my favourite poets after watching "Il Postino", a 1994 movie "about" him, at school - and do watch the movie. It's poetry in images

Age Restrictions: Well, they are taking baths together, naked - so reader's discretion advised. Although there's nothing overtly sexual (forgive my ace ass), Vergil's one can be a little more... Tempting.

Dante

“You look horribly tense.”

You observed Dante as he entered the Devil May Cry – disheveled, sprinkled with blood and a few more cuts on his shirt than he’d have planned. Yet another that you’d have to sew into place until you convinced him to buy another one.

Because since he was young, Dante had the “if I don’t have shirts, I’ll just walk around shirtless then” mindset. Not that it bothered you, but it surely wasn’t a very acceptable dress code everywhere.

“Not more than the everyday amount.” He winked back at you, slumping on his chair with a deep sigh.

“I bet an electrical bill that your shoulders are rock solid.” You approached the man, who just leaned his elbows on his desk and kept looking at you from under his ruffled white hair.

“You know I have rotten luck with bets.” Dante closed his eyes, his usual smile too tired to make an appearance.

“I’d say you have a rotten luck with everything except fighting, but I don’t want to be too cruel with you today.” You managed to make him chuckle with your words as you laid both of your hands on his shoulders.

And it seemed like grabbing two sets of bricks.

“Jeez, Dante, you gonna die with all this tension.” Your comment was more of a surprised whisper: it was worse than you thought. Not that you weren’t used to massaging him all over because of sore muscles after intense fights – and the reciprocate was true – but it seemed like all the tension he had accumulated from the last few weeks decided to make an appearance that day.

“I know, babe… I’m really tired today.” He lowered his head, massaging his own neck a bit. You furrowed your brows – that behavior was rare and so out of character on your red devil. “This last month has been really tense… There were some old foes of my father back, they kept sayin’ all those things about my family and my mom… Sometimes, they hit us hard.” Dante raised his head again, looking at you with a faint smile. His sky-blue eyes, though, carried sadness instead of the usual energy. A bittersweet demeanor, as Dante would always wear when his strength was low, but he didn’t want you to care about it too much. “But I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about lil’ ol’ me.”

“I always worry about lil’ ol’ you.” You wrapped one of your arms around his shoulders, forcing him to slide a little with his chair so you cold sit on his nearest thigh. Dante couldn’t hold back a smile filled with care. “That’s what being a partner means, cowboy. I’m here for the good and the bad times, no less. Although, I can accept more.”

“I guess we can all accept more, huh, partner?” He forced an old western movie type of accent, making you laugh as Dante wrapped your waist with one of his arms, using his other hand to hold one of your thighs and properly putting both of your legs across his – Dante’s thigh being the best chair in the office. Not that you had much choice when the only chair was taken by him on a regular basis. “I just don’t want ya to get as tense as I am. One worried devil around the shop is enough.”

“Technically, I’m not a devil. Even if I’m worried, you’d be the only one to fit that category.” You argued, making him roll his eyes while laughing. It wasn’t his usual hearty laugh, but it was a good one to listen. Dante’s voice would always be the best kind of song to your ears. “Plus, carrying the weight of constantly saving humanity is too heavy of a burden to carry on your own. No wonder your shoulders feel like I can throw Cavaliere at you and you won’t even feel it.”

“Oh, I’d actually like to see you doin’ that! When are you goin’ to let me train you?” His hand unconsciously drew patterns on the thigh he was holding to keep you in place. “Gotta say, you’ll look hella sexy driving Cavaliere around and kickin’ some…”

“Demon ass!” You both said together, mimicking Nico’s accent. That made Dante break in a more cheerful laugh, resting his forehead on yours.

“Well, you can always teach me. I can’t assure you I’ll be strong enough to wave a full-ass motorcycle around, though.” You had a few giggles in your voice still, closing your eyes as you felt his breath calming down on your face.

“You kiddin’? If I train you enough, you’ll be able to throw me at demons.” Although his voice was lower, Dante’s usual playful tone was still there, slowly coming back to his heart. You always brought his heart back – it was your most beautiful power, in his opinion. No demon could ever do that.

“Neat. I’ll just go ‘Dante, arm!’ when I feel like it and hold it to throw you at demons. It would be epic. ‘Want a piece of Sparda, you clowns? Well then, catch THIS!’” As you spoke, Dante himself closed his eyes, hugging you tighter and laughing while imagining that scene. “I think Nero would be jealous.”

“He’d want to try it out with Verge. Only he wouldn’t give his ol’ man a heads up.” With his own phrase, Dante laughed even more, imagining how Vergil would be mortified with that. “That would be a sight to see!”

“We gotta train it, now. You’ll be my biggest weapon, Dante.” You took some distance from him, to look at his eyes again. The skies were getting a little bit clearer, adoration now mixing with the sadness. You ran your fingers through his blood sprinkled hair, something Dante loved with all his heart. “A huge weapon that needs a bath, by the way.”

“Ah, I’m gonna take a quick shower. That water bill…”

“Don’t worry, it’s already on the budget. We’re taking a bath today, red devil.”

Dante looked back at you, interested. He wasn’t expecting you to use “we”.

“Do you prefer jasmine or orange blossom?” Your head appeared through the bathroom door as Dante took his clothes off and left on a designated place on the floor – currently shirtless as you decided to ask.

“Well, I prefer you.” His answer was laced with a serene smile while his clothes met the floor.

“Very funny, you goof.” You weren’t pleased with the reply, but not exactly surprised. It was classic Dante at his finest. “I want to choose a scent you like.”

“If it’s the ones you use, I like all scents, honey.” Dante stretched out his arms, cracking his neck in the process. It seemed like his muscles were made of marble. “Make me a surprise.”

“You know, one day, you’ll have to get used to the idea of choosing stuff you like, not just accepting what life throws at you.” You were almost as grumpy as an old lady and, for some reason, Dante found that adorable.

But he knew you were right. Dante was too used to just accept things and never ask for more – he barely had an idea on how to choose what he actually wanted. Yes, you were just talking about bath scents, but he’d always be happy with whatever. Life wasn’t too keen on being nice to him, so Dante figured, at some point, that if he couldn’t fight it, at least he wouldn’t stress about it.

That’s why he was so good at being versatile during fights: he’d see what his enemies would do and adapt – that way, if something went wrong, he’d wing it instead of panicking. It had worked pretty well so far.

“So… Is the bath ready? Do I have permission to enter the premises, sheriff?” It was turn for his head to appear through the bathroom’s door, observing you, wrapped around your towel, testing the water with your hand.

“Permission granted, cowboy. Bath is ready and you’re sinkin’ in there until further notice.” You smiled back, sniffing your hand. It was better than you expected.

“What scent you opted for, babe?” And as he entered the bathroom you only observe how Dante could be so comfortable wandering around the way he was born into this world. It was an ability you truly envied, honestly.

“Both.” Your smile was certainly annoyed, and Dante couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Well, it counts as a surprise! I wasn’t expecting that!” As he sank into the warm water filled with bubbles, you heard a soothed sigh from him. Who would’ve know the Legendary Devil Hunter just needed a good bubbling bath every once in a while to wind down? That made you smile contently. “Are you just goin’ to watch me or are you comin’ in, babe? I can always seduce you, ya know…”

“Oh…” And Dante started wiggling his eyebrows dramatically, performing the campiest sexy pose you had ever seen. And that was saying a lot – he had a weak spot for doing that from time to time. You held his hand on place by the side of the tub before he could continue. “Please don’t.”

Dante chuckled a little while you made sure your hair wouldn’t get wet. He always enjoyed watching you – there was something so ordinary on it, so human, that made him feel almost as if he wasn’t who he was. Almost as if he didn’t have demon blood in his veins, and all that mess going on in his family and his life in general. For a while, watching you, Dante could live a perfectly human life – even if it was for a few eternal seconds.

“Do you want me to go in or do you want me to just stay here with you?” Your question woke him up from his thoughts, though, making Dante tilt his head a bit, still processing it. “You need to start choosing and knowing what you want, cowboy.” You sat by the edge of the tub, playing mindlessly with the water. “Might as well start with me – I won’t get mad at any of the answers. Both work fine for me and I have all the time in the world.”

“Oh…” And there it was: your marvelous ability of leaving Dante speechless. That was quite a feat, and you could always do it masterfully. Vergil adored you for that. “Hmmm. I’d rather have you here with me, y/n.” Even though his words were certain, his eyes weren’t – as if Dante was asking you to stay. “Is that ok for you?”

“Of course.” As you smiled back, he watched as your towel was put aside and held your hands while you made your way into the bathtub. “I’ve already said it’s ok, both options.”

“Hey, it’s all brand-new for me, don’t shoot the apprentice.” Dante chuckled back, holding your hands so you wouldn’t risk getting hurt while getting comfortable in the water with him.

“I’m not shooting, just stating. You gonna learn how to put yourself first for good or for bad now.” And it always amazed him how you could threaten anyone so casually – you and Vergil were quite a pair in that department.

“Or else you gonna throw me at demons. I know, I know.” He raised his hands as if you had him at gunpoint, while you were only leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder amidst giggles. “Comfy, lil’ angel?”

“That’s a given when I’m with you.” It sounded like one of your playful answers, but your voice was serious and serene, having your eyes closed as if you were ready to fall asleep in his arms.

And indeed, both of you could fall asleep like that. Dante observed while the sun tinged the sky with the last rays of rosé orange, before giving in to the darkest of blues. A few birds chirped outside, sometimes flying by the window in golden silhouettes. There wasn’t any other sound in the streets – every once in a while, a few people walked by, chatting words you both were too far to understand.

It was a kind of peace Dante wasn’t used to. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, using his free hand to play with yours. You let yourself get lost on his touch, enjoying that peaceful afternoon while feeling his heartbeat calmly against your back – something so rare at the Devil May Cry.

“Hmmm.” You turned your head at him, kissing Dante’s neck to get his attention. He looked down at you – a serene expression, without his usual smile. It was so different, but as beautiful as he would always look. “I can always massage that bag of bricks you’re carrying in your back. You just have to ask.”

“If it’s that bad, you might need a hammer, babe.” And his smile was faint, but it couldn’t refrain from making an appearance. You didn’t want to, but nevertheless ended up chuckling with his words, planting another kiss on his neck. “Sure you can handle it?”

“Oh, yes. I’m on a mission now.” You kissed him one last time, sitting up straight so you could properly turn to look at him. “C’mon. Time to change positions.”

“It’s easy for ya, lil’ thing! Have you seen my size?!” Dante pointed at himself while still holding one of your hands, making you laugh more than you expected.

“I can try like this, but knowing us, we’ll end up with the ‘bathtub make-up time’ from A Star is Born then properly working on relaxing you!” As you answered, Dante raised one of his eyebrows, pulling your hand towards him.

“If you wanted to, I wouldn’t complain about it.” He shrugged, kissing your fingers tenderly, taking his time. You had nowhere to be and no reason to rush.

“Turn around, cowboy. First, we’re getting rid of those tense shoulders. Then, we’re getting to the make-up.” You watched as he continued kissing every spot in your hand, slowly trailing up to your wrist.

“My, my, you’re bossy!” And even though it seemed like Dante was complaining, he had a smile on his face that showed his enjoyment. He’d never complain about you trying to take care of him.

And soon enough you had Dante’s shoulders in your hands, his back exposed for you to work on. He knew he didn’t have to speak or keep small talk around you – interestingly enough, you were always comfortable around him not to need any words. That was also a new world to the Crimson Slayer – not used to have people comfortable near him.

As your hands glided through his back, breaking the tension on his stony muscles, Dante found himself slouching – closing his eyes and taking a deep breath; allowing himself to enjoy the moment. It was nice not being called names, not being treated harshly, not being in the middle of a fight, not being strong all the time… Being human, for a change.

Dante knew kindness was human’s superpower, but he was never one to experience it first-hand in a regular basis. He usually knew it by proxy – in your hands, though, there was nothing but kindness. Dante had a theory he was relaxing not by your abilities in massaging, but by having you take care of his heart so carefully.

“You know… I never really thought I’d have this.” He suddenly said quietly, a faint smile on his voice as his eyes remained closed. You kneeled behind him just so you could reach his shoulders better, working gradually on the knots in his neck. “I mean… I’d wish for it, sure. But it always felt like one of those Disney movies wishful thinkin’, ya know? The ones we pray for a star at night and hope no one’s around to listen.” You’d always let him talk, without saying a word. It was so rare to have Dante really open up about his feelings – so you’d let him speak until the moment was gone. “I know huntin’ demons isn’t easy… And I know it isn’t easy not knowing if I’ll be back or stuck in Hell. Again.” Dante’s head turned slightly back, while you left out a chuckle. That was a classic, honestly. “But I’m glad to have you around; for as long as you want to stay. Thank you, y/n.”

Your answer took a little time to form words, so you seized it to embrace your red devil, pressing your chest so tight against his back and resting your hands over his heart. Dante would be taken aback if he didn’t long for that kind of affection. With a comfortable smile coloring his lips, he took your hands on his, cradling them as much as he could, trying to look back at you. It was in vain, though: your face was peacefully rested on his shoulder, while you kept your eyes closed and enjoyed your time with the Crimson Slayer.

“I’ll stay forever, if you’ll have me.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper in that late afternoon, not giving Dante the chance to say he’d have you forever. “For there is no harshness in this or in another world worst than being without you. I love you so much, Dante – and I hope someday you’ll understand that. You saved me in all manners a person can be saved. This is a dream for me too.”

“You kinda sound like Verge sometimes, ya know.” He mumbled, making you snort briefly in his back. Dante laughed as well, playing with your fingers while one of your hands remained in his heart. “Also, isn’t that saving thing from Titanic…?”

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting you’d know Rose’s lines by heart.” You quipped back playfully; internally grateful he couldn’t see how much you were blushing. If Dante was the Crimson Slayer, at that moment you’d certainly be the Crimson Apple. “Here was I, thinking I’d be seen as originally poetic.”

“You kiddin’ me? You know how many times Titanic has aired? It saved my boring nights!” He laughed quickly, suddenly pulling your hands while moving swiftly. When you noticed what happened, Dante found a way to turn slightly around so you’d find yourself in his arms, as if he wanted to carry you bridal style. Dante kept your head above water by having one of his arms on your back, while the other wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Your hands were lost in his chest, in his heart. “I do think you’re poetic though. More than you give yourself credit for, angel.”

“Well, then you know where my heart is. And It’ll never refrain from giving you all the kindness in the world, as much as you need.” You placed your hand briefly in his face before pulling Dante for a kiss.

His heart would be glowing in golden knowing there was no time, no chores, no demons to kill – only you, him and the bathtub. Dante could cherish you as much as he wanted and that kiss could last forever, if he meant to. You were uncharacteristically vulnerable in his arms, completely disarmed by the Crimson Slayer – and he knew he was the only person you’d allow yourself to be like that around.

Life was never kind to both of you – but you could be kind to each other. And that was enough.

Vergil

The oncoming storm.

Vergil found it amusing that you used to call him like that when he wasn’t in the best of tempers, but you could look like a lingering chaos when wrathful feelings stirred in the depths of the ocean that was your heart.

His cunning eyes followed you as your presence made itself known back in the room. He was sitting by his favorite dark blue armchair, reading one more of his occult books – Vergil would never cease to search power, but now for different reasons than before – as your brooding form entered while carrying the Yamato. By the look in your eyes, it wasn’t the best of hunting days – and that he could understand beautifully.

You looked like the most perfect oncoming storm.

“I take your hunt was not just a simple job as it seemed when you left.” His voice echoed in the room while you left the Yamato on its designated place to keep it safe. You only looked back at your lover, more unsatisfied with the circumstances than with his comment. “If you feel like talking about it, do so. I’m not busy.”

He looked busy, though – and Vergil could read that thought in your eyes. As soon as he did, he carefully closed the book and left it on the desk by his side, taking a cup of warm tea while waiting for you to say something. You knew it was his way of saying he had time to listen to you – that you were more important than a book.

It was always like that between you two. You wouldn’t ask what was wrong, but you’d make yourselves perfectly available to listen to each other’s troubles. That way, sharing your feelings didn’t seem so scary or vulnerable – it seemed more like an objective therapy with someone who would never judge or run away from your words. It was the way you and Vergil found to become used to talking about the deepest emotions stirring in your hearts.

“It was much worse than we thought. I wasn’t ready for it.” You sighed, tiredly rubbing your neck while walking towards the closet. You needed to unwind, or you’d fall flat from stress. “Note that the demon wasn’t stronger. Last week has been terribly overwhelming and I thought a quick, easy job would blow off some steam. Turns out, this wasn’t a quick and easy job.”

“Hmmm… You underestimated it.” Vergil’s voice analyzed quietly while you confirmed with a gesture and proceeded to find your pajamas. “Sometimes, slicing demons is exactly what we need to get some adrenaline out of our system and get back to our focus…” As he spoke, Vergil got up from the chair and made his way to the closet, towering behind you as you chose your comfortable clothing. “Some other times, what we need is a little more delicate than that.”

“Delicate? That’s a choice of words I wasn’t expecting, honestly.” You furrowed your brows and, before you could take anything from the closet, Vergil placed a careful and loving kiss on the top of your head. That made you stop whatever you were doing, failing to understand his intentions.

“I know. We’re not ones to expect love and care, are we…?” He whispered in the slightly cold air of the night, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Come. The water of a bath can melt the tension in your body, love. This time, it will be better than slaying demons.”

You closed your eyes, smiling with a sigh. Vergil wasn’t one to show a softer side – but he always did when it was about taking care of the ones he loved, even if he wasn’t keen on admitting it.

“You know… You prepare the best baths.”

You were leaning by the door, resting your head on it, while watching Vergil working. As per his instructions, both of you were already covered only by silky bath robes, waiting for the water to get warm and the bath filled with bubbles.

“It’s not a difficult science.” He noted back – and even though it was a chastising comment, Vergil didn’t have a harsh expression. Au contraire, he kept on testing the water with his hand, focused on making it as bubbly as possible. He knew you loved it.

“No, but it is rare to find someone well versed in it.” You wanted to compliment him, and that man was usually so difficult to accept praises that didn’t surround his power. Vergil wasn’t one to see many qualities in himself, apart from his demonic heritage.

Taking him by surprise, your arms enveloped him from behind, while Vergil kept sitting by the bathtub. You felt him tense a few seconds before relaxing into your touch, melting like snow in the first rays of spring. One of his hands met yours, while the other worked in the water – he never wanted to show how much he cherished those displays of care towards him.

“It is because I have someone who enjoys it greatly.” His words weren’t more than a whisper, as his fingers entangled with yours and Vergil raised your hand to place a slow and gentle kiss in its back. “Now we should get to it before the water turns cold.”

You’d note it would take a while for the water to turn cold, but it was just Vergil’s way to ask you to get into the bathtub. He helped you take off your robe, setting it aside alongside his, and made sure you’d get into the water without any accidents. Soon enough, you were submerged between Vergil’s arms, your head resting on his shoulders.

“Comfortable?”

“Hmmm.” You mostly confirmed with your head, a faint smile coloring your lips. Vergil couldn’t help himself from mirroring your expression. “Which scent is this? The water is marvelous.”

“White roses.” His answer was simple and velvety in the quietness of the bathroom, making your smile wider. Vergil once told you about white roses being used by brides over time for its meaning of serenity, innocence and eternity – qualities he always saw in you.

You’d beg to differ, especially on topics like serenity and innocence – although, for a half-devil who spent a great part of his life stuck in the horrors of Hell, even someone like you could be an angel.

“You were reading about occultism again?”

“Hmmm. There are a few new things I need to grasp on energy work.” His answer was pensive, while you cherished the feeling of Vergil’s hand mindlessly drawing patterns on your thigh. “Although most of them is just new age foolishness.”

You tried not to laugh. Your eyes remained closed while your lips shrunk in a straight line, containing how much you found that endearing. Little did you know your lover stared at you with one raised eyebrow, ever so ready to scold you.

“At least someone finds that amusing.” As soon as his brooding voice echoed in your ears, you couldn’t hold your laughter any longer.

“The ‘new age foolishness’ is already absurdly annoying to me.” You finally opened your eyes, meeting his silvery gaze. Although, this time, Vergil watched you with amusement and care. “I can only imagine how much it vexes you.”

“Beyond description of any words.” His gaze turned into a playful sort of annoyed expression, sighing right after. “Through me you enter into the city of woes, through me you enter into eternal pain, through me you enter the population of loss. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.”

“Ah, yes. Alighieri clearly thought of new age’s take on occultism when describing Hell. It’s all a metaphor.” You couldn’t keep yourself from chuckling. Vergil wasn’t one to be playful, but he was one to be dramatic. And it amused you greatly how often those traits overlapped.

“Trust me. I do know a few books that certainly would belong into the freezing confinements of the 9th circle.” He rolled his eyes, making you laugh briefly and plant a kiss in his jaw. Vergil looked back at you, raising one eyebrow – but this time as a question.

“Well. You do warm my heart whenever you complain about modern stuff using your classic literature knowledge. You only get yourself to blame for unexpected kisses.” You smiled back, taking him by surprise with another kiss on his neck. Little did you know Vergil did his best not to blush with how much his heart was racing. “Actually, your literature knowledge in general should be blamed for my kisses.”

“Then I wonder what the result of a recital would be while I work on those tense shoulders of yours.”

His eyes were as intense as yours, always finding someone who could keep up to his gaze in you. It was true, you were not in your best of days – and Vergil knew that. But being in his arms made you feel safe in a way you never did before: your blue devil was the only one capable of making you feel protected, the only one who could make you relax.

“Why don’t you test it out…?” As your words left your lips, Vergil tried to contain a devilish smile that colored his own lips – not being able to fully hide it, though.

“One day, you’re going to get yourself in trouble with those witty words.” He whispered back, inches away from your lips before slowly kissing them.

“You do love my witty words.”

“Indeed.” Vergil kissed your lips once more before guiding you to turn forward and slipping his warm, wet hands on the back of your neck. He had a strong grip, but it never failed to make you smile how well Vergil could control his strength when dealing with you. That carefulness rarely showed – he reserved only to the most special people.

His brother definitely wasn’t one of those – neither was Nero, to an extent. But Vergil knew very well how to be gentle around you, Kyrie or Nico. The way he treated Kyrie was as if she was the most fragile of flowers in a secret garden.

“Hmmm… You know, I have no clue where you learnt to do this, but your hands are magnificent, love.” You had to comment as he kneaded the sore spots in your trapezius. “Midas would be jealous of your touch.”

“I cannot turn that which is already golden into gold. I can only help you not die out of tension.” His answer was sharp, making you giggle. It always warmed Vergil’s heart how you were amused by his dry sense of humor – Dante seemed to be the only one to laugh at his attempts of jokes before you arrived in his life. “You should ask me for these more often. I don’t mind spending time with you.”

“Even if you have to stop reading?”

“Books can wait.” And Vergil kissed the top of your head, calmly lowering his hands on your back. “Being with those we love, can’t.”

You closed your eyes, slowly sighing as you felt every knot from your back unravel under his skillful hands. Vergil took his time, without worrying about the water or how long you’d take in that bath. He wouldn’t leave until you were feeling at least a little better.

“Everyday you play with the light of the universe. Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and in the water.” Vergil’s voice started reciting a carefully chosen poem after he thought for a while, at first too quiet in the walls of the bathroom. Nevertheless, you’d never tire of hearing his words like that. “Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh, let me remember you as you were before you existed.”

There was something about those words that never failed to make you smile. Vergil knew that.

“You are here. Oh, you do not run away. You will answer me to the last cry.” Now his voice was like velvety dark chocolate, pouring into your ears like a forbidden song. You didn’t dare opening your eyes as his hands worked on your back. “Cling to me as though you were frightened. Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.” As Vergil spoke, you could hear the slight smile he had in his lips: you weren’t one to love easy, but when you did, you loved wholeheartedly. Just like him. “Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle, and even your breasts smell of it.” He planted a kiss under your ear, working on a tense spot in your neck. “While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies, I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.”

Vergil barely finished the sentence, and you could feel his teeth playfully nipping the tender spot in your neck. You giggled back, feeling little tears that formed around your eyes – if they were because of how much that spot was hurting or how his words could make you feel a myriad of emotions in your ocean heart, you did not know.

“How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.” The honesty in his words as Vergil’s hands lowered in your back made you breathless. It wasn’t just an empty poem he was reciting – it was one he could see himself on it. And you could feel it in the way he delivered the words like sweet honey dripping from his lips. “So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the gray light unwinds in turning fans.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from opening your eyes vaguely while Vergil guided you to stretch your neck slowly, moving your head gently. You smiled contently as he pulled you closer, keeping his mouth inches away from your ears.

“My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. I go so far as to think you own the universe.” You had known that poem and always cherished it in your heart, but his delivery of the words made you shiver. Who would’ve known the Dark Slayer would have you as the owner of the universe? “I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels and rustic basket of kisses.” With those words, Vergil playfully kissed the top of your ear, making you laugh slightly – until you could feel his lips touching the shell of your ear, ready to whisper the last line for only you to listen; a secret to be kept only by your heart. “I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”*

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Oh, damned devil – is all you could think. You could feel Vergil’s smile from watching your reaction and how much you controlled all your feelings not to arise in a sea storm, taking him whole into the maelstrom of your heart. He knew what he was doing.

“I have to say…” You slowly turned your head to your lover, finding Vergil’s triumphant silver glare ornated by a faint smile. You both were at the same level of emotion control, but he could never stop himself from feeling proud whenever he provoked such a havoc of feelings within you. “You have won more than a few kisses, devilish poet.”

“Hmmm. I’m afraid to point out, this poem is exclusively human.” One of his warm hands stroke your cheek, putting away a rebel strand of hair. Again, his voice fell into a whisper, only for your ears. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

For the first time, Vergil lost track of the warmth of the water – but what water could be warmer than the flame of love?

*Every Day You Play, by Pablo Neruda

#dante x reader #vergil x reader #dante imagine #vergil imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc imagines #dmc fanfic #devil may cry #dante sparda #vergil sparda #I could spend a lifetime inside a bathtub #plus Verge is getting softer #and Dante is getting serious #who would've known #also READ PABLO NERUDA PLEASE

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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Taking Chance Ch. 10: Father Daughter Time (alt. prompt Take Your Kids to Work)

AO3

Sitting in her hotel room, Marinette pouts. Her family hadn’t wanted to talk about their identities. Or hers. So instead, they’d had a rushed (awkward) dinner, and then sent her and Adrien away. But she knew they were going to patrol. Marinette grins as an idea forms.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not a good idea.” Tikki says from her spot on the bed, obviously tired of the drama and insanity that Marinette had managed to find since coming to Gotham.

“Tikki, please. I just found out that my brothers and Mr. Wayne are all heroes. Not just any heroes, heroes known for their detective work. Can you blame me for wanting to go out and talk to them? Maybe if I go as Ladybug and not Marinette, maybe they’ll actually help. You know, hero to hero.” She pleads, looking at Tikki with her best puppy dog eyes. Tikki, unfortunately, was an ancient deity and was not affected by puppy dog eyes.

“Marinette, I still think it’s a bad idea. Besides, Ladybug shouldn’t be in Gotham.” Tikki argues. Marinette huffs, knowing the kwami is right.

“Fine. Well if I can’t be Ladybug, then I’ll just sew a domino mask really quick and go run on the roofs as myself.” She says, jutting her chin out in defiance.

“Marinette! That’s completely unsafe.” Tikki chastises. Marinette ignores her, moving around to find cloth to use for her mask. Tikki sighs. “Just- be careful. Think about the Bats, and that Ladybug is not supposed to be seen in Gotham.” She says. Marinette frowns. It almost sounds as if Tikki is giving her permission. But at the same time….

“Wait, what?” She asks.

“Think about when you transform.” Tikki says with a tired smile. Marinette frowns, but does as she instructed. When the light from her transformation fades, she gasps at the new suit design. It was much darker, and looked as though she belonged with her family rather than the brightly colored Parisian heroes. What was once one singular piece of material was now several. The bottom part of her suit was black. It started at her feet and went all the way up to her chest. Underneath that, she had what seemed to be a deep red leotard (but it was hard to tell since it disappeared under the black bottoms). On her feet were ballet shoes that matched her leotard, the ribbons snaking up her legs. The shoes were slightly confusing, as she’d never seen a member of the Batfam with ballet shoes (and she herself couldn’t dance) but they fit with the rest of the costume. She also now had a hood, much to her delight. It would be useful against the slight chill in the air. Pleased with her new costume, Marinette opens her window and takes a deep breath before jumping out and swinging onto the roof. Giggling, she starts swinging around randomly, hoping that she’ll bump into a friendly sooner or later. A slight miscalculation between buildings leads her to freefall, her eyes wide as she desperately tries to hook her yoyo onto the roof. Arms wrap around her roughly and she yelps in surprise, tilting her head up to look at who grabbed her midair. Her father. Crap.

“I don’t take kindly to unknown vigilantes in my city.” He says gruffly as they land on the roof. She frowns before she remembers her costume is completely different, and the Miraculous magic definitely helped conceal her identity (even though her family technically already knew).

“Oh, I’m not unknown. It’s me, Ladybug? Couldn’t exactly bring out the spots in Gotham. Especially with French students in town.” She says with a grin. Batman (Mr. Wayne?) tenses before sighing.

“Marinette?” He asks, she nods.

“Yes, though I think it’s probably best to not use my actual name. You can call me….” She hesitates for a moment, searching her mind for a new name. “Ladybird.” She finally says. Ladybird, because it was another name for a Ladybug and because if someone didn’t know that, they’d think she was just another Bat with a bird theme.

“Very well. Ladybird, go home.” He says.

“Home home, or where I’m staying home?” She asks cheekily, the banter coming easily with the freedom of a mask.

“Where you’re staying.” He says through a clenched jaw.

“Yeah...no can do. See, I’ve been trying to bond with my biological father and it just hasn’t worked out so far. I’m hoping to fix that tonight though!” She says, hoping she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels. She can’t help it though. Ever since she found out she was adopted, she’s wanted to connect with Bruce. And every time she’s tried, something has come up. Or some revelation has happened and they’ve had to stop their pitiful attempts at bonding.

“I don’t think-” Batman starts, his lips pursed.

“Oh no, you see, I know he’ll say yes. See, it’s take your kid to work day.” She rushes out, tilting her head as she thinks of what she just said. “Or rather, night, I guess?”

“Why not go to his day job, that’s much safer.” Batman argues, Marinette snorts.

“Sure, it might be safer, but it’s also gonna be boring. Plus, he’d never bring me. Then he’d have to say something about me and I’m not sure either of us are ready for that yet.” She says. She watches Batman, holding her breath as she waits for a verdict. As much as it would hurt, she’d leave if he told her to. Well, she would now once she’d said her peace. But if he made her leave now, after hearing how much she wants to spend time with him? She wasn’t sure if she could handle it.

“If you’re out of my sight for even a minute, I’m taking you home. I’m serious, Ladybird. You don’t have the training that the others do.” He finally says. She grins, jumping up and wrapping him in a hug. She instantly freezes when she realizes what she’s done and backs up, stuttering out an apology.

---

Bruce looked at his daughter, unable to move as she continued to apologize.

“B, I swear if you don’t tell her it’s okay, I’m going to shoot your fucking foot.” Jason’s yelling on the comms finally pulls him from his own thoughts.

“It’s fine, Ladybird. Don’t apologize.” He manages to say, fighting the urge to smile reassuringly at her. She was so excited, the pure joy on her face made him feel like he had done something right for once. Of course it was replaced almost immediately by her stumbling out an apology and her once cheerful face twisted with regret. So he was still a failure as a father. Nice to know he was staying consistent. He watched, slightly worried as she stayed, stood completely still, in total silence. It was the first time he’d seen his daughter still. She truly was like a bird, always flitting about the room, moving from thing to thing with no real direction. To see her almost frozen was unnatural, it just felt wrong. Just as he opens his mouth to try and see if she’s okay, she snaps out of it.

“Right! Well, let’s go! Patrol isn’t gonna happen by itself.” She says with a grin. He nods, taking off, always watching her from the corner of his eye. Maybe this wasn’t the bonding he had originally wanted, nor the bonding she’d been expecting. But he’d always found it easier to deal with stressful situations under his cowl. And a fourteen year old daughter? That was the definition of stressful situation.

Ladybird’s suit

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

#maribat #maribat bruce wayne #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat bio dad au #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat batfam #maribat jason todd #mbdbwm2021 #platonic jasonette #day ten alt prompt #alt prompt #ao3fic #maribat fic

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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

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The Fabric Roll Of Fate

So this has been sitting in my WIPs since October of last year... Finally had the time to finish it up! More like I couldn’t sleep so I finally worked on it

Hope you enjoy it!

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo (welcome to the permanent taglist!)

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It was one of those random family outings, one of those moments that Damian was reluctantly dragged to

He just wanted to stay home and train for the upcoming fencing tournament in his school, one of the few things that Damian looked forward to in the school year

Yet here he was, being held captive and listening to Garyson talk for the umpteenth time about his daughter’s latest adventure

Finding an opening, Damian slips off, walking through alleyways to escape his family, eventually arriving to the fashion district of Gotham

He decides to enter the first store he sees, seeing as his hands were starting to get cold

He hated Gotham’s chilly and cold seasons. Spring was his favorite season.

As he ventures inside the store, he starts to look at the fabric inside, now wondering why fashion designers were so picky with their fabrics

It was when he saw two identical rolls of fabric that he decided to investigate for his answer

As he runs his hands across two white fabrics (linen and velvet), he notices the slight differences, not noticing that he was starting to mumble his observations

It was then that his hand bumps into someone else’s Damian turning to see a girl his age.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!” She quickly apologizes. “You were probably in your zone and-”

“I was simply looking at them. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Damian watches as the girl relaxes and smiles at him.

“I see. Well, if you need any help, I’d be happy to help! Is there a certain reason you’re-”

“I was thinking of hiring someone to make me a suit for an upcoming event-” Damian attempted to lie (although he technically didn’t as his family was looking for one...not like he was going to tell them about the one he just found), taken aback when the girl looked at him with twinkling eyes. What was going on

“A suit? So I’m guessing a tux, but if you want something to make you standout- but I think you don’t want that, huh?” She begins to look him up and down, quickly mumbling some numbers to herself. “Black or any dark color would suit you, but having emerald accents-no! Gold accents would suit you better.” Damian remains silent as she circles him, not once placing a hand on him. “Shawl collars, traditional or modern could work. Definitely single breast, maybe tail-oh god no. No tails.” Damian watched as her eyes filled with happiness. “A cumberbund would definitely suit you. That’s where I can place the gold!”

Damian kept listening as the girl kept listing ideas to herself, watching with awe as she kept the ideas coming, eventually snapping out of his trance when she presented him a card.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to make that suit. Of course! The decision is yours if you’d allow me to make it.” He watches as the girl points to a phone number and email address in rose gold. “Give me a call, text or email if you decide to accept my offer. See ya!”

Damian is left dumbfounded as he watches her go and pick some fabric rolls, purchase them and then leave.

“What just happened?”

Damian looks at the all black card in his hand. On one side was the phone number and email. On the other, the letters M D C were on the card, a single line going through the three letters. Simple, yet elegant.

Damian ends up accepting the offer, setting to meet the girl that Friday afternoon after his classes.

When his family attempts to tag along, he tells them no, setting on going alone.

“Welcome to my humble home.” She greets him after picking him up (she insisted despite Damian saying he had his own mode of transport) at the rendezvous and then to her flat. He was faced with one of Gotham’s most expensive penthouses, Damian wondering who exactly was this girl who can afford one of his father’s expensive hotels.

“Do you...live by yourself?”

“Yup! Although my uncle- oh! How can I forget?” The girl says, closing the door behind her. “Sorry for the late introduction! My name’s Marinette. The one behind the upcoming brand MDC. I’m currently here for a commission. Although, by the looks of it, I might end up staying here in Gotham.”

He’s heard of her, the decade’s youngest designer in the fashion world, or so he’s heard.

“Now, let’s start with getting your measurements, shall we?”

One visit became two, to then various

And they were mainly never about his suit that she was making him.

He didn’t know why he found him attracted to her place...to her

But simply felt at home with her

He quickly learns everything about her. Her old school life, her friends, her ex, her parents, hobbies, and old commissions.

At first he thought she graduated early from highschool because of her bully, but it turns out that it was because she already had all her requirements done and seeing that there was no other reason to stay, she left. Also, having more time is what she needed if she wanted to succeed in the fashion world. So when her uncle (who he learns is Jagged Stone) offered her a hand, she took it and came to Gotham.

But Damian didn’t just listen, he also talked about himself

About Titus, his family, his fencing tournament. His opinions on Selina. His mixed feelings about his mother.

His family kept trying to follow him, but they have yet to figure out where he would go every other afternoon and evening.

Months pass, the suit already done and ready to be worn, but it still wasn’t the day of the Gala yet. But even then, Damian still stopped by, often times letting Marinette use him as a mannequin and dress form

Sometimes they would continue to talk about their mundane lives or things from the past that still ate at them, anything for Damian to simply listen to her voice because while he didn’t fully accept it, he knew he had feelings for her.

A scene that happens:

“And the worst part was that Alya knew she was lying. Lila was definitely not there because Alya was there. She was the one who saw Ladybug capture the akuma not Lila. Lila wasn’t anywhere near Paris when it even happened!” Marinette huffed as she tippy toed to make sure she was measuring the correct portion of Damian’s back.

Damian felt her presence ever so close to him, causing him to panic. Yes, he only allowed her to invade his personal space, but this was too much for his heart.

The aroma of baked goods always radiated from her and being this close only made Damian want to become obsessed with the smell even more.

“So even with that in mind, this Alya decided to take the other girl’s stance?” Marinette let out a sigh, walking in front of Damian and throwing the tape measure around his neck, causing him to tense up.

“Yeah, and I guess that’s what really made me snap to reality when it came to Alya.” Mari frowned at that, tightening the tape closer to each other to get a collar measure.

Lord, did she have no idea how much restraint Damian had to put himself under for just wanting to kiss her right now, but he knew better than than.

He took her hands away from the tape, noticing her eyes lacking that shine they usually carry when she’s in the crafting zone. He looked at her hands, covered in calluses and a few sewing mishaps. Even when they were covered in painful memories, Marinette hands were still gentle. “What’s gentle?”

Damian’s breath hitched, realizing that he said that last part out loud.

“You are.” Damian said, bringing her hands to his lips to kiss. Damian couldn’t help but feel victorious at the sight of Marinette glowing pink. “You’re a gentle and kind person. She doesn’t deserve your kindness if she was willing to quickly push you aside like that.”

Marinette looked straight at Damian before throwing herself into his chest, almost causing him to tip back. “Thank you, Damian.”

A few days were left until the gala, and it just had to be that time when his stupid brothers found out about his meetings with Marinette (and him coning to terms that he absolutely loves her)

“A girl, huh?” Jason would tease while Dick tried to gathering more information about Damian’s “friend”

“She’s simply designing my suit for-”

“The gala. Sure Lil’ D.” Grayson would say before wanting to pry more information from him.

“Why don’t you invite her to the gala?” Bruce proposes, Damian no thinking about it

“Maybe I will.” He regrets saying

And Marinette ends up saying yes, now panicking about what to wear

“What about that dress?” Damian points to her almost completed black dress.

A high collared black dress with long sleeves was what Damian was referring to. With an open back and skirt that fell to the ground, it’s golden accents by the collar that ran across the chest...it would match his own all black suit with golden accents at the shoulders and cumberbund.

“That.. that could actually work.”

Time skip to the gala, where when the two arrive, they steal the spotlight because not only did Damian arrive with a date, but she was stunning. Despite being three inches taller than him, Marinette was perfect by his side

“So Damian, what’s her name and how’d you meet this girl?” Jason asked first, but to Dick’s annoyance.

“Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one behind both of our attires.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Bruce manages to say despite being surprised by Damian’s new development.

“So how-” Tim attempted to ask, but marinette cut him off.

“We met at a fabric store. A fabric roll brought us together.”

The night goes on, with it ending by Marinette asking Damian to be her boyfriend. (Damian then also reveals that he was also going to ask her to be his girlfriend)

“Of course.” He says, having to stretch to kiss her, glad to have gone into that fabric store that day.

Sure, it was weird, but Damian was glad to day that a single fabric roll decided their fate of meeting each other.

#maribat #daminette #anju writes

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creepycatboyz · 3 years ago

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"Scary Monsters" Marble Hornets Tim/Brian Fanfiction

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33361528/chapters/83235640

Chapter 2: Reunited at once

Ever since he was free from the grasp of the Operator, he could properly breathe out and not having the feeling of being watched. He yearned for this feeling for years. Medication helped, but he could never shrug off the slight feeling of being watched. He absolutely hated it, as he loved to keep his privacy. He had gotten sick and tired of Jay coming back to dig through the stuff of Marble Hornets, he just wanted to forget that, especially after his best friend has gone missing after Alex and him went to film a scene.

After everything had progressively gotten worse, the lack of medication he had to fend off the Operator with, he had enough. Someone in a beige-yellow hoodie, with a badly sewed on frowny face, has been stealing his medication, and that pissed him off so bad. Tim needs them, not this random person. Eventually he confronted the person, ran after them and surely accidently killed them. He's still not over this, he goddamn killed someone! Was it technically self-defense? Probably not. At least he could've called an ambulance, but he just left with the stolen pills they left in their pocket.

It's been a month, since he packed up the little things he had and left as far as he could. A relative of his offered him a relatively big cabin, where he can stay so he can settle down and calmly search for a job. He told this member the least amount of information, as he didn't want to freak them out or call him crazy.

Smoking a cigarette, this habit having never left his mind, he calmy gazed at the surrounding trees of his cabin. He's not completely engulfed in the woods, but it would be slightly hard to find the way if you don't know it. Which Tim appreciates, as he doesn't really want to talk to people, or be disturbed while he's doing his own thing. He likes his privacy, especially after he had no feeling of being watched. Usually he would be staying as far as possible from forests, as it always reminds him of the operator, but now he grew quite fond of the nature around him. He loves to watch birds pick berries from the nearby berry bushes, sometimes other small animals run around in the evening trying to find something to eat. At times he leaves out some food, a little bit further away from his cabin so they won't come back, to feed the animals around here. If he can't currently take care of a dog, he can at least fed the wild animals around here. He still kept his old phone number, as first off, he only gave it to Brian and Jessica, but never the others. He rarely talked to them outside of filming anyways, and honestly, he doesn't want them to contact him. He's done with the Operator, done with these scary monsters that should stay childhood fears.

The calm moments that were just now, were interrupted by a loud ring from his quite old phone. It looks a bit broken, but it still does his job! He lazily threw the cigarette he was smoking on the floor and crushed it with his shoe. Curiously he walked over to his phone and answered the call.

"Hello?", his voice a bit hoarse, due to smoking just a moment ago. "This is Dove's care hospital, am I speaking to Timothy Wright?", a female voice from the other end came. He grimaced at hearing his first name but soon thought to himself: 'A hospital? Why would a hospital call me from all the other possbilities?' "Yeah, this is Tim, is there something wrong?", he asked, confused on why he was even called in the first place. "A certain Brian Thomas had you on his contacts, in case something happened to him. His family was also on the list, but we couldn't reach them." Hearing his best friends' name his heart dropped, he couldn't even believe it. His lips let out a small whimper before he tried to compose himself. "I- Uh.. I will get there. It'll take some hours 'til I get there though. Around 5 hours", as he was saying that he already began to pack up some money, pills, snacks and spare clothes. The receptionist noted that down and told him Brian is in a stable situation, but has no memory on what had happened. As soon as he heard which room he was in he said goodbye and immediately hung up. He rushed to lock his door leaving immediately.

Right as he got in his car he couldn't even properly focus on the road, due to him being so overwhelmed with emotions. He for real thought his friend was gone! He hasn't heard from him for ages and he only noticed it was off ever since he moved out after Jay tried to dig through the old recordings. He secretely saved the old tapes, Jay posted, of him and Brian, those are the only recent memories he even had of him. Childhood memories of course stayed, but with those memories he also has to look back to the Operator, who tormented him since he was little. While he was driving, he was trying so hard not to cry, mostly due to happiness, he missed him so much. He wished he noticed sooner, but he was completely trying to forget everything, anything to get away from the monster. The amount of happiness overshadowed the dread he was feeling driving closer to Tuscaloosa, his hometown, where all the trouble happened.

Arriving in Tuscaloosa gave him this familiar feeling of being watched. If the Operator felt any joy, he would be feeling it right now, seeing his victim return once again. He won't give him the satisfaction, as he swallowed the pills he had taken with him. The closer he drove to the hospital, the gaze of the Operator started to fade away and he let out a sigh of relief. He wants to get Brian out of this hellhole, where both of them can be safe, from the monster and Alex. He didn't mind Alex if he's honest, he seemed pretty neat, but after the filming of Marble Hornets, he just started acting weird. The Operator can sure do a lot of damage to people, Tim himself is a example for that, but he's slowly getting better. He hopes Alex can also get the help, but he doubts it, as Alex went as far as to attempt murder.

He parked near the hospital and as soon as he stepped out of the car, he felt nervous. What should he even say to Brian? Oh hi, I didn't realize you were missing, because my brain was in constant fear due to some tall thin monster with no face? Yeah, that sure will be believable. He shook his head and made his way towards the hospital. As he entered he went to the reception and told them he's visiting Brian Thomas as he was on his contacts if something ever happened to him. Tim already knew which room he was in as he kept repeating it on the way there in his head, but he wanted to make sure and let the receptionist know that he arrived.

Room 52. He anxiously glanced in the direction of the hall where the numbers from 50 til 60 were. He composed himself and made his way to number 52. He can do this, it's just his best friend, well he hopes they still are. Oh god, what if they aren't anymore? He still cares about him so much. As he stood in front of the door, it took him some moments to gain the courage to knock twice.

A faint 'yeah' could be heard from inside the room and he immediately started to panic. He tried to shake off the feeling, which took a bit longer than he wanted. After having his usual calm expression, he opened the door and walked in, closing the door behind him quietly. What he saw beforehim, was a Brian bandaged up everywhere where he could see him and a cast on his left arm. Confused on how he even got hurt that badly, he was speechless. His friend had a tired expression, but still the warm smile he always had. "Hey Tim, how's it goin'?", Brian spoke, his voice clear, yet a bit quiet and hoarse.

Tim walked closer to him and took a seat on the chair on Brian's right side. "Quite good actually unlike you", he teased and glanced at his bandaged up body and arm. The light haired male rolled his eyes, but still had a grin on his face. "Yeah, no clue what happened. One day I was filming with Alex for Marble Hornets, which is still a stupid name, and ta-da next thing I know I woke up in a hospital. Amnesia I guess?", he chuckled, resting his head on the hospital pillow. "Probably the meds, or you hit your head bad", the darker haired man suggested. Brian shrugged with his right shoulder, as he couldn't with his other.

"I was actually in a coma for around a month, just woke up 2 days ago, I was barely awake though. They tried to call my family, but that didn't work, so today they called you", he explained and he sounded happy about the fact that they called Tim. "I'm glad you came" The smile his best friend gave him, made his heart simply melt, he had a slight tooth gap, which he always thought was pretty adorable. "I missed you dude, I had no clue that something had happened, I wish I knew sooner", that made Tim frown, as he wished he could've been there for his friend, but he just moved away, leaving everything behind, even his best friend.

Brian chuckled and shook his head. "It's alright, you showing up is enough for me" That made Tim smile, and he leaned back into the chair. For a few moments there was an awkward silence between the two, just being in eachother's presence was enough for both of them. The thought of the Operator crept up in the dark haired man and he had to break the silence. "So, when are they going to release you?", he asked, looking at his friend. Brian thought for a moment and scratched his chin, which had a unkept beard. "Uh, maybe two weeks? At most, I would have to do check-ups at the doc though", with that he just shrugged with his one shoulder.

Okay Tim, now you have to ask him if he wants to live with you, that doesn't sound weird, but how will he explain the reason why? Brian doesn't believe in this Operator nonsense, he hasn't been affected by it, at least he couldn't tell.

"I- This is gonna sound weird and it will probably make no sense to you, but do you want to move together with me?", the best way for Tim to ask Brian is just talking to him directly. Brian stared at him for a moment and furrowed his brows, but then grinned. "I mean, it would be refreshing to finally live outside Tuscaloosa, so I wouldn't mind, I'd have to get my old stuff though" He stopped and his eyes widen, he immediately tried to sit right up, making him only groan in pain. Even that didn't stop his panicked talking. "Oh god, I hope they didn't kick me out! I haven't paid rent, in like what? 2 months!"

Oh shoot, Brian has been missing for more than 2 months, at least 6 months? Hell, he himself can't even remember. Trying to calm him down he placed his hand on his healthy shoulder rubbing it gently "Slow down, tiger, how about I check your place out and discuss it with your landlord?" The light brown haired man took calm breaths and nodded. "I should probably call them too, seems more personal" Tim thought for a moment if this was a good idea, probably? Then they would get the amount of months he had been missing... Brian would be hella confused though. "My phone's over there", while he said that he pointed towards a table with his belongings they found him with.

Tim nodded, standing up and walking towards the phone only to realize it has been completely thrashed, as if it fallen out of his pocket as he tripped or something. He inspected the phone and awkwardly turned to Brian, who was watching him in anticipation. "Your phone is completely thrashed man", that's the only thing he could say, holding up the phone that doesn't even turn on, with a completely shattered screen. Brian's face immediately became a frown. "Uhh, well. Shit, I also don't know her phone number. My brain is a complete mess..." Tim smiled and walked over to him ruffling his already messy hair, which made the other man pount slightly. "I'll just drive by there and tell the situation, m'kay? And what if I bring you some good lunch after I am done, so you can finally eat some proper food?" At the mention of food, Brian immediately got excited. "I've only been awake for a few days, but these meals are a real pain. You're the best, dude", he grinned widely.

With that, Tim made his way towards Brian's old apartment, trying to find his landlady. Brian mentioned her name being Margaret something and she was really sweet. He walked around the complex and saw her name on one of the name cards on where to ring. What he didn't expect is for an old lady to open the door, huh, the worst she could do to Brian is pinch his cheeks to death he guessed. He always hated his cheeks getting pinched when they visited his grandparents, he would get very annoyed and his cheeks would be red. "Hello, are you Margaret, the landlady?", he asked, looking at her. She nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes, I am the owner of this apartment complex. Is there something you need?" Her smile was warm and welcoming, she looked like a kind soul. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, it's about a friend of mine, he rented an apartment here? Brian Thomas, tall, lanky, brown blondish hair?" he asked. At the mention of his name and then the further description her eyebrows raised. "Mr Thomas... I haven't seen him quite a while. He also hasn't been paying rent for the last... eight months or so? Is he alright?" He expected her to be angy, but he was only met with a look of concern.

Tim scratched the back of his neck. "Well, he was in a coma for a month or so and I came to visit him today, because family couldn't. I have no clue what happened to him, but he's very sorry for not being able to pay rent" The old lady scoffed and shook her head. "Tell that boy he shouldn't worry. His furniture is still in his apartment and he can still live here, but with rent. He doesn't have to pay it back, but he should properly take care of himself!" he nodded, paying close attention to every word she's saying. "I'll take care of him, as me and him will move together out of state..." As soon as those lips left his mouth, she started to talk. "Do you want me to call a move truck? My son has one, and he would be glad to help"

The dark haired man just blinked for a few moments and nodded. "Uh, sure? How much would that be, I have some spare money", he chuckled slightly. "Oh, you could fetch me some groceries from the store that is all" Well, he really struck gold with this lady, she's so nice even though, Brian hasn't paid rent in a long time. Surely they had a really good friendship, if she's so worried about him. Tim nodded and asked for the shopping list, which he got. She even wanted to give him the money for the groceries, but he avoided that, persisting that he will pay that out of his own pocket as it isn't too much. He thanked her and told her he will be back soon enough and left to get the groceries and some good food for Brian and him, as he hasn't eaten anything since he came to Tuscaloosa.

Back at the hospital, after delivering the groceries to the old lady, he handed over Brian a turkey sandwich with a sunkist soda. "You still remember my favorite sandwich and drink?", his eyes shined as he unpacked the sandwich with his one hand, immediately munching on it. He opened the can for him, which gained him a grin from his best friend. He also sat down on the chair on his right side, eating his own sandwich, which had tuna. How fast Brian was able to eat, still baffled Tim, he devoured the sandwich in less than one minute. "That was good", was the only thing Brian said, sipping on his sunkist. For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about various things, but mostly enjoyed eachothers presence. After it started to become slightly dark, Tim said goodbye, going to arrange the moving truck and all the other stuff, so everything is ready, when he's released from the hospital

#marble hornets #fanfiction #marble hornets fanfiction #tim x brian #masky #brian thomas #tim wright

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dearest-bucky · 4 years ago

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There went my heart (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: A new nurse starts working with the Avengers and she takes an immediate liking to one blue eyed, metal armed super soldier. The best part is that he likes her too.

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, I think.. Fluff

Originally posted: May 28, 2020

How does one starts working with the Avengers? Or rather for the Avengers, but these are just technicalities, really. Truth is, she had no idea! It seemed as if she was just a very lucky person. When Tony Stark offered her to be a part of the medical team alongside Helen Cho and Bruce Banner, she wasn't dumb to decline. It's not that she wasn't happy working as a nurse in one of the many hospitals of New York, but being able to work with the Avengers themselves, was really something else. And she couldn't wait to meet them all and introduce herself.

On the first day of her new job, most of the team was away on a mission, so she only met with the other nurses and lab assistants. She was walking around the med bay, getting familiar with her surroundings when one of her new colleagues, a dark haired nurse named Jessica, called her from the door of the lab.

"Come on Y/n, we have to get ready. The team will arrive in 30 minutes and Captain Rogers informed us that they need medical assistance. Several team members were injured in this one." As the other woman finished speaking she ran towards the infirmary room to prepare for their arrival.

No longer than the 30 minutes Captain America had informed, several people came barreling through the doors of the infirmary. A red head woman that she recognized as Black Widow was leaning heavily on Steve Rogers' shoulder, one of her hands putting pressure on her side. One of the nurses moved quickly towards them to assist. Following was Sam Wilson, walking alone but with a small limp and just a black eye. He seemed to keep himself up fine, but another nurse ran to him too, tending to whatever little wound he had. Sitting in a chair to let the nurse do her job, his voice a little gruff as he spoke. "Someone check on Bucky, a bullet pierced his shoulder through."

She turned her head towards the door where Bucky had entered last, a scowl on his slightly pale face, but Y/n couldn't help but see that he was in fact a very handsome man, despite his current state. No camera, no matter how advanced its lenses were, could ever do justice to that man's beauty.

Next to her, she felt Jessica go stiff and shift her feet slightly, but not daring to move. Y/n was thinking she'd be the one to take care of him since she'd been working in the compound longer than she had, but seeing the other woman had no intention of leaving her spot, her professional training kicked in and before she knew it, Y/n was walking towards Bucky where he had already taken a seat in one of the cots.

His shoulders were slumped and his head was hanging low, so she carefully cleared her throat to make herself present. She didn't want to startle him or hurt him in any way, so with a soft voice, she spoke up. "Hello Sergeant Barnes, can I take a look at your shoulder?"

At the sound of her voice, he picked his head up to look at the person who was talking to him and he was surprised to see a young woman standing so close to him, he had no idea how she had gotten this close without him noticing. Her light skin complexion, illuminating more under the artificial lighting made her looked like an angel. Yeah, Bucky was surprised, but good surprised. He only nodded his head, not trusting his voice to speak up, but that was all she needed to begin working. Her touch was light as a feather as she cut his shirt to take care of his wound. He noticed she was careful as she touched him, almost cautious, but it wasn't because she was scared of him, not at all. She just didn't want to inflict him any more pain that he was already enduring, and that warmed his heart like nothing and no one had done in decades.

His eyes were glued to her face as she worked, the tip of her tongue poked out in concentration as she tended to his wound and Bucky thought she was nothing short of adorable. He was lost in thoughts of her and he didn't even feel her cut the thread as she finished sewing his wound. She put a clean bandage on it and with a small smile playing on her lips, she spoke up again. "I'm done."

Bucky moved his eyes to look anywhere but her face as he mumbled a "thanks" and a blush crept up his neck and cheeks in an instant. He felt as if she had caught him daydreaming about her; in fact he'd been so lost in his head he hadn't even felt the needle pierce his flesh at least a dozen times as she sewed him up. But could anyone blame him for losing his mind when she stood so close to him looking like an angel?

It was later that day when the Avengers were all cleared from the med bay and sent to bed rest, after cleaning and putting things back to place, that she had a chance to sit for a few minutes to catch a breath. Jessica sat in the chair next to her, her hair a little disheveled from the many times she'd carded her fingers through it. She let out a sigh before speaking. "So, how was your first day? Were your expectations for this job met?"

Y/n let out a small chuckle at her questions. "It was great really. I mean, working with superheroes is really something. But I loved it. I'm happy to be here." She said sincerely.

"Yeah, about that. You were really brave to walk up to Barnes today." At that, the smile that was playing in Y/n's lips dropped in a second, only to be replaced with a small frown, a crease forming between her brows. She waited for Jessica to continue speaking, to explain what she meant, so she silently tilted her chin up to nudge her to speak again. "It's just that he's kind of scary, you know..." She started and Y/n's brows only furrowed more. "You know of his past, right? You know what he has done, everyone knows. Plus he's always wearing a scowl on his face, as if he hates everyone around here. None of the nurses work with him, only dr. Cho or dr. Banner take care of him when he comes in."

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was still being judged for his past, for something that wasn't his fault at all. She knew he was a victim just like every other person he'd been forced to hurt and kill. She scoffed in annoyance at her co-worker's words, the other woman's eyes widening in surprise at the reaction.

"I can't believe you're saying this. None of that was his fault, you know that, everybody knows that. Yet here you are, judging him for something he had no control over. He's a war hero, you know. He gave his life for this country once and he's doing it again everyday he goes out on a mission, just like the rest of the Avengers are." A fire was ignited in her chest, a strong desire to defend the man and that's what she was doing. She would defend him in front of the whole world, she decided right then and there, if it was needed. "You should be happy to have the honor of taking care for him afterwards, not talk behind his back."

Jessica only lowered her head, in shame or something else, Y/n couldn't tell, but she was glad to have given her a piece of her mind, plus it made her shut her mouth. She got up from the chair and took off her white coat, her job for the day being finished. She was ready to go back home and get a good night's sleep after a really active first day.

The next couple of months passed in a blur, really. Everyday she'd get up and go to work, weekends too. After all, there are no weekends off from saving the world. Doctor Banner was kind enough to give her a day off every week, but most of the time she refused because she had no better place to be.

During this time, Bucky would enter the med bay more times than she could count, but she never complained anyway. His presence was always welcome to her, and if it was up to her, she'd be happy to have him there every day. Just to see him. Most of the time he came in with the pretense to see Bruce, others he'd be back from a mission with several cuts and bruises that Y/n was always ready to tend to.

She was conversing to one of the other nurses, listening to the other woman talk about her 14 years old daughter and her challenges as mother of a teenager, when she heard someone clear their throat behind them. She quickly turned her head around, only to be met with Bucky's figure, a sheepish look in his face.

"Hi." She said, a little breathlessly. No matter how many times she saw him, he never ceased to amaze her. He was so handsome she wanted nothing more than to smother him with hugs and kisses every minute of every day. She shook her head lightly as if to get rid of those thoughts and got up to walk to him.

"Hi, doll." He replied and she blushed at the pet name. He'd started calling her that a few weeks ago and now it stuck. And she liked it more when he called her 'doll' than her actual name. Before she could ask him what was he doing there, he showed her his arm, a slash on his bicep and blood dripping down the entire limb.

Her eyes widened at the sight and she quickly grabbed some cotton balls and antiseptic, urging him to sit on one of the chairs before she started cleaning the blood off of his arm. "What happened?" She asked as she wiped the blood, throwing one cotton ball in the garbage can and grabbing another.

"Knife training with Nat, I lost focus and didn't step back in time so she grazed my arm. It was merely an accident." He explained and when the blood was cleaned she could see it wasn't that deep of a cut anyway. She still continued to nurse the cut though, silently dabbing the cotton and applying an antibiotic ointment as to not get it infected.

"I didn't think a super soldier could lose focus." She replied with a playful smirk on her lips and Bucky smiled down at her.

"I guess there's just a lot in my mind lately." His words were accompanied with a small sigh and she didn't dare ask him more, for fear of overstepping a boundary or something. She finished with his arm and was about to move away, but he grabbed her wrist with his metal hand, preventing her from moving too far.

She turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes. "Thank you doll." He said simply and she returned his smile with one of her own.

"You're welcome." She replied simply despite his touch causing her entire body to flush with warmth and she tried again to move away from him - suddenly the closeness was too much. He only tightened her grip on her wrist, enough to let her know he didn't plan on letting her go, but not enough to hurt her in the slightest. Her heart was beating fast inside her rib cage and she knew he could hear it too, the thump thump's almost echoing in the otherwise silent room.

She realized then they were alone in the infirmary, the other nurse had left without so much as a word.

She could only stare at his face, his eyes locked to hers, a look she couldn't really place, before he spoke again. "No, thank you Y/n." The use of her name surprised her a little. He hadn't called her that in a while, opting to go for doll instead. "For being so kind to me. Kinder than anyone had been in a long time."

"Bucky..." She wanted to interrupt him, to say something, but he shook his head a little before speaking again.

"Before you, none of the nurses would take care of me, always glancing in my direction in fear and suspicion, as if I'd lash out and go all psycho on them. But then you came, and you walked to me, so soft and caring and with a touch so light I thought you were an actual angel." His words were causing her to blush a deep shade of pink but she didn't dare interrupt him again, scared that if she did all of this would have been a dream, a figment of her imagination.

Without even noticing, the hand that was holding her wrist had moved slightly towards her palm and their fingers were intertwined. She lowered her head to look at their joined hands and a smile formed on her lips, her thumb moving to caress his metal knuckles.

"Doll, forgive me if I'm outta line now but if I don't tell you this I think I'm gonna die in the spot." At that her eyes moved up to meet his expectantly, hopeful. A spark that she'd come to see more and more of lately was glinting in his own eyes and she could only wait for him to continue speaking. That he did. "Ever since the moment I saw you I felt something I hadn't felt in decades and doll I like you so much and maybe all of this is my imagination, but I think that you like me too and I was really hoping you'd want to have dinner with me sometimes?" He finished a little breathless, despite having spoken the words so slow as if he was afraid she'd miss it if he didn't enunciate each one of them.

The smile on her lips kept widening with each passing moment and she squeezed his hand in hers a little before speaking up her answer to him. "Bucky, I'd love nothing more."

A wide smile mirroring hers bloomed on his lips and all he could do was stare at her in admiration, not wanting to ruin the beauty of the moment with any other word or move. After a few minutes in silence, only staring at each other lovingly, Y/n finally found her voice to speak again. "Bucky?"

"Hmm..?"

She cleared her throat before speaking, taking a small moment to muster up the courage to speak the next words, but she couldn't help the blush that deepened in her cheeks as she spoke.

"I was really hoping you would kiss me."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #508

“how long will you last through these memories of the past?”

What accent do you have? Is it heavy? I have a slight southern accent that I hate. Does your best friend live near you? Lol nooooo, she lives many states away. Whose birthday is coming up? Mine, actually. Did you have a role model growing up? Steve Irwin. Who is the last person you hugged for a long time? Girt. We have the best hugs before he goes home. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. When’s the next time you’ll be drinking? I'm probably gonna order a drink when we go out to eat for my birthday. Have you ever been drunk at school or work? No. Have you finished school yet? Well, I didn't technically finish college, I dropped out. Have you ever been on a cruise? No, but when my friend Summer and her mother visited recently (they shared stories and pictures of their own), we actually talked about the idea of saving up to go on one, but I don't know how realistic it is. When was the last time you slept on the floor? I couldn't even try to guess. Ever been leeched by a leech? Possibly? I don't remember for sure, shockingly enough; leeches are another animal that terrify me, so you'd think I'd remember. Ever had a fear of mirrors? No. Do any of your friends grow weed? Not that I know of. It's illegal here, so that lessens the odds, too. Have you ever owned an unlucky object? I don't believe in objects being "lucky" or "unlucky." Do you think voodoo works? No. What habit do you find most disgusting? Probably chewing tobacco. Does it scare you to walk over sewer vents in the street? No, I actually like looking down them, haha. What’s something you wish you could start over? My job pursuit, honestly. My huge gaps in employment history are always questioned, and I literally lie about my job history; I worked so, so incredibly briefly at a deli and dollar store that I don't even list them on my resume. Are you a loud person? I can be. Sometimes my mom catches me talking too loud if I'm excited, and I know I'm capable of yelling way too loud, but it's not exactly common that I yell. Do you like morbid things? Hell yeah. Can you sew? No. Do any of your exes bother you? Not actively. My PTSD stems from one of those relationships, so it's kind of like his memory does, but he himself has been out of my life for years now. Do you like dragonflies? Yes, they're very cool. If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? No. I want to live with him first. Have you ever been banned from anywhere? I was never banned, but I did have to have a moderator verify my posts as a kid towards the end of my stay at the Meerkat Manor Animal Planet forum, lol. I was a trip. What was the last thing you drank from a mug? Hot chocolate. Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently? No. Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house? My late grandmother's husband. He was driving through NC and Mom invited him to sleep here because it was a very long drive. Where is the last place you applied for a job? I don't even remember. :/ Are there any concert venues where you live? Without a doubt no big ones, but I wouldn't be surprised if there truly are none. The only two places that ever really get concerts are Raleigh and Charlotte. Are there a lot of tourists where you live? Hell no. Have you ever made out in the backseat of a car? No; I wouldn't do that. This question implies someone else is driving, and I'm very private with this kind of stuff, so I am nooot kissing someone like that when someone else can see. Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to on the phone? My psychiatrist. We've done phone appointments since COVID hit. He takes the virus VERY seriously (as everyone should) and wants to ensure he does his part with keeping his patients safe. Who was the person you lost your virginity to? I think I mentioned in a previous survey that I'm just back to saying I haven't lost it because I feel like a doctor, who knows more than I do, would say that I technically am a virgin, regardless of "loopholes" taken. Would you ever get a tattoo? Bro, that needle is CALLING. I'm just trying super hard to be responsible and take care of more pressing matters. Are you excited for the future? More like terrified. Have you ever held a snake? I've held pleeeeenty of snakes over the years. Loved 'em since I was tiny. One of my favorite pictures from my childhood is of me sitting with a gigantic snake, I believe a reticulated (or Burmese?) python. It was such a darling, and I remember I was absolutely entranced. Mom was TERRIFIED to let me do it, but I obviously convinced her. We still have the Polaroid picture somewhere, and I'd love to find it. Were there any sex scenes in the last movie you watched? I don't remember any. Would you ever date someone who is blind or deaf? Yes, that doesn't matter to me. If we click, we click. Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? Yes. Do you have anger management problems? No. Would you ever consider piercing your lip? It already is. What was the most recent overwhelming thing you experienced? Thankfully my mom was there to help, but putting together Venus' new terrarium was quite the trip. It took us like a whole hour. Whose grave did you last visit? I've never visited a grave before. I'd like to visit Jason's mom's, but I kinda feel like it'd be bad for my trauma and drag me back too far. Also, by some insane coincidence, I don't want to run into him there. I just really want to say thank you to her one last time. How many different picture IDs do you have in your wallet? Just my driver's permit, I think? Are you on birth control? Yes. Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found? No, thankfully. Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk? Wow, no. What’s the most you would be willing to spend on a good bra? I don't know what a reasonable price for a "good bra" even is. My size is SO hard to find though, so you REALLY have to shop around (pretty much exclusively online) to even find one. What’s the one thing you apologized for this month? Ummm I'm unsure. How do you feel about chocolate-covered strawberries? Good stuff. What was the last musical instrument played in your presence? No clue. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? Noooo, I hate sprinkles. Who is the best cook that you know? idk On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? No, but I did that when I was younger. Have you ever been falsely accused of something serious? No. Did you ever set up a lemonade stand when you were a kid? No. That wouldn't have been the smartest thing to do where I grew up. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? I'm the only one who still lives with Mom. Do you think you are a good role model? Absolutely not. Would you say you mess up more times than you succeed? Yep. Do you wish you had more money? Being better off financially is one of my biggest wishes, dude. Be poor your whole life and TRY to not believe money doesn't matter. Do you think having a son would be the worst thing in the world? Having a child, regardless of gender, would probably be one of the worst things that could happen in my life currently. Are you afraid of dogs? Nope. What's the most disgusting drink you've ever tasted? This one alcoholic drink that my little sister somehow loves. It was some coconut flavor. Had "Malibu" in the name, I think. Completely inadvertently, I spat it out. Has a medication ever made you gain weight? Yes; that's how I first gained an absolute shitload of weight, because that specific med (Abilify, calling you right out) MURDERS your metabolism. But my idiot primary physician (who doubled as my psychiatrist at the time) kept me on it anyway and blamed me for the weight gain. Guess what the fuck happened when I changed psychiatrists and he took me right the hell off it? Dropped weight like it was NOTHING. Do you think most vegetables are gross? Yes. Not all of course, but most indeed. Have you ever had an ER doctor refuse to treat you? No. What is your favorite drug? I don't do 'em. Have you ever been under anesthesia? Yes. Is your skin sensitive? VERY. Has anyone ever tried to sell weed to you? No. Have you ever worked as a waitress? No, and I never will. Who has the ability to hurt you the most emotionally? My mom would be the most capable. Has the last person you kissed ever made you cry? No. Have you ever done anything illegal on school grounds? No. Was middle school a bad experience for you? Sure was. Why did you last cry? I was just very frustrated and at a loss with my life. Has the last person you texted ever been mad at you before? My mother has definitely been pissed at me before. Would you rather have roommates or live alone? I genuinely don't think I could ever live alone. My depression and loneliness would murder me. What was the last compliment that you got? That I'm really understanding, from Girt. Would you hug your last ex? Bro I would love to hug her. Do you go clubbing a lot? I never have. Don't want to. Can you flip your eyelids inside out? aldksfalsdjfalksdj;kJLAKSDJLFKASD that shit REALLY freaked me out when people would do it as kids. I've never tried it and do not want to. Would you rather be a ghost or a zombie? A ghost. Being a zombie sounds absolutely fucking miserable. Like, what if they're still sentient and just trapped in that body? Who is your favourite to watch on YouTube, if you watch any? My favorite will forever and always be Markiplier, but I now go through spells of who I watch and how much, really; I don't even watch all of his videos anymore. I go through phases of favoring pet channels, herping YouTubers (my most recent obsession), WoW channels, my typical let's players, etc. Any song you’ve been listening to over and over recently? DA Games' "Break My Mind" has been a frequent lately. I'm back in my FNAF phase y'al asdklfjalkwe

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''break my mind'' by da games

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fedeipox · 4 years ago

Text

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (2/3)

I have finally decided I’m gonna play the game for a fourth time and take some good (at least I hope they’ll be good) pictures. I want to post pictures. Interesting pictures. I have no idea of what kind of photos should I take.

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638598893496631296/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-13

Chapter 5 (2/3) - A little trip

Words: 3k

In the meantime, Charles had come back and stopped his horse right in front of her, who, in some kind of involuntary reflex, took a step backwards.

“Here, you see? You have nothing to be afraid of. She’s calm and completely under control. Touch her.”

“W-what?”

“Come on, stroke her. Here on the neck” said Charles showing her how to do it.

Emily felt her heartbeat speed up as she took a step towards that big creature. She was really doing it, she was really about to touch a horse. Well, technically, she had already touched one, the night they had brought her to camp, but now she was doing it intentionally.

She expected everything from horses but being so soft. They really had the smoothest kind of hair and this new unexpected sensation pushed her to keep touching it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked a familiar voice.

Emily turned her head to look at Arthur and with a thin whisper, just like she was afraid she would have troubled the horse if she spoke too loudly, she said: “I’m touching a horse!”

“What, you never…”

But Arthur had no need to ask it, he could perfectly tell she had never touched a horse from the way she was doing it.

“Not like this” he sighed coming closer and throwing away his cigarette.

“You always have to keep her calm, so use all your hand, like this” he said patting the horse’s neck and Emily couldn’t not notice how big his hands were.

She followed his example, but the horse, with all those hands on it, for a moment felt irked and shook its big neck. Emily gasped and took a step back, withdrawing her hand like a shellfish inside its shell.

“Shh shh shh. Easy. You have nothing to worry about, really. She’s the quietest horse on earth” said Charles.

“It’s a she? What’s her name?” asked Emily.

“Taima.”

“I’ve never seen a horse with all these strange colors” she stated touching a lock of the horse’s mane.

Taima was brown, a little bit reddish, black, white, grey, spotted, plain. She looked like a Picasso of colors.

“This breed generally is” answered Charles.

“Breeds? There are horses breeds?”

Arthur and Charles exchanged a puzzled look before they both looked at her.

“Sorry, stupid question. From the way you’re looking at me I guess there are horses breeds.”

After a moment of silence, Emily took a step away and said: “okay, thank you Charles.”

“What, you’re done? You don’t want to mount up?” he asked.

Emily froze.

“What? No no no. Never.”

“You have to learn if you want to move around here.”

“I don’t need to. I can use the wagons.”

“A wagon is far slower and catches more attention. Charles is right: you should learn” said Arthur.

“I will never get on one of these things.”

“It’s easy. Show her, Arthur.”

Emily withdrew as she watched Mr. Morgan put both his hands on the saddle and a foot in the stirrup.

“If you want to sit straddle, you do this way” he said hoisting up and sitting on the back of Taima.

“But if you wear a dress and you want to sit like a lady… Charles would you help her?”

Charles walked by her side and did as to take her by her waist, but she took a step back and shook her head.

“No, no, really…”

“We’ll be right here. Nothing will happen” Charles reassured her.

“And I’m staying on the horse with you” added Arthur looking at her from above.

Emily felt something moving inside her stomach: he was staying with her on the horse. She walked towards Charles’s hands who in a blink of an eye raised her and she found herself on a pretty hard saddle and with her face very close to Arthur’s. He smelled of tobacco.

“See there’s nothing to worry about. When you’ll start to feel comfortable on a horse, Charles here can teach you how to ride.”

“Can’t you teach me?” she asked naively.

Arthur’s eyes met hers and for a second all around her slowed down.

What was she doing? Was she really starting to like him? An outlaw, a criminal, a man who was at least ten years older than her?

He chuckled and looked away.

“I can’t, Miss. I’m leaving tomorrow” he said.

Leaving? To go where? To do what? She wanted to ask all these questions, but all that she could do was saying a disconsolate “oh”.

“But don’t you worry, Charles here is one of the best riders, he’ll do a great job.”

An idea popped in Emily’s mind: if she had learned how to ride a horse by the time Arthur had come back, they would have been able to wander around together. Again, it was a silly and childish thought, but Emily was like this, sweet and naive.

She stretched out her arms and made Charles understand she wanted to get down. He dutifully helped her and then Arthur dismounted Taima.

“Which one is your horse, Arthur?” she asked looking at the other animals around her.

“That one” he pointed to a spotted brown and white horse.

“Is it a ‘he’ or a ‘she’?”

“A ‘he’” he answered walking towards it with Emily right behind him.

“He has a name?”

“Not yet. I found it recently and I haven’t had the time to choose one.” To Emily that white and brown mantle reminded more of a cow than a horse, and cows reminded her of ranches. Looking at Arthur for a brief moment, she imagined him like a rancher, with that cowboy hat and a whip in his hands to make the cattle move, and a name appeared in her mind.

“Drover” she murmured.

“Drover? You have an unusual taste for horses names” he laughed.

“I didn’t know there was a rule for horses names.”

He chuckled and silence fell again as Emily couldn’t remove from her head the idea that he was going to leave.

“Where will you go tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ll wander for a bit, see if I can find something, stay on my own.”

“How long are you going to stay away?”

She couldn’t restrain herself from asking and for a second she had the impression that Arthur was becoming suspicious of all those questions, but he fast hided it.

“I don’t know, as long as I need.”

“But… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You already have all the freedom you can possibly want here. You can leave tomorrow morning and come back in the evening, no-one said you have to spend days out. And then, what will you do on your own? Without company. Won’t you be bored to death? Or feel lonely?”

Arthur smiled and shook his head. No, she couldn’t understand, and he couldn’t understand her, either. Their time was different, their way to do things was different, Emily knew it, deep inside her. Arthur didn’t, because he couldn’t accept the fact that she came form another time, but he had realized she had a different mindset and that was exactly what made him curious about her, even though he didn’t feel the same she felt for him.

“I have my own way of doing things” he cut short in the end.

Emily just nodded and she was about to walk away when she thought about something else.

“I’m sorry about this morning. You were right, I shouldn’t stick my nose in your life. Peace?” she asked showing him her little finger.

Arthur smiled again at that childish way to apologize and then murmured “peace” before he patted her on her shoulder and walked away.

...

Who knew what he was going to do around the country all alone for an indefinite number of days? Emily kept asking herself that, while she walked around camp again. Her feet brought her back to her tent where Karen and Mary-Beth were seated.

“Hi, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Mending socks” replied Mary-Beth. Then, she raised her look on Emily and frowned slightly.

“What have you been doing? Your hair is messy” she asked.

“Oh, I played with Jack. The brush is in your crate, right?” said Emily walking to the back of the wagon.

“Yes, always there.”

Emily opened Mary-Beth’s crate and took her hairbrush, which she had already used plenty of times in the previous days. It wasn’t something she was used to, use other people things, especially hairbrushes, but she had no choice. She returned to the front of the wagon and took a seat next to them.

“Uff, it’s not fair. Men can go around, drink, fight, do whatever they want, and we are forced to stay here and sew socks” complained Mary-Beth.

“Who said that? We can take a wagon and go to Valentine. Have some fun, meet some people…” replied Emily.

“Yeah, keep living in the dream land” said Karen with her usual sarcasm.

Emily put the brush down to look at her.

“We are free. Don’t let anyone ever tell you something different” she stated with the hardest tone she could use.

“Yeah, look at how much freedom we got.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary-Beth.

“They don’t allow us to do anything apart from… clean, govern the house and lie on our backs for money. If that means freedom for you.”

Emily sighed. It was 1899, she always had to remind herself that.

“I guess you’re right. We can’t even vote” murmured Mary-Beth.

“Why you care about voting?” asked Karen.

“I don’t know, it’s one of the things I’d like to do.”

“Don’t worry, you will. And soon” said Emily with a big smile.

“Really? When?” exclaimed Mary-Beth while Karen scoffed.

Emily moved her eyes from one to the other.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Oh come on! It won’t make any difference if two people know” Mary-Beth encouraged her.

Emily leaned forward and made sign to her to do the same.

“1920” she whispered.

“So early! Really?”

“Yeah, of course” Karen snorted.

“Well, when we get to 1920 we’ll see who’s right. We’re all gonna make it to that year” Emily replied.

Karen frowned and fixed her eyes on Emily’s face, who stared back at her.

“We?” she asked.

“Well, until I find a way to time-travel back to 2020 I don’t see I have much of a choice. And when all the things I say will happen, one after the other, even you will have to believe me.”

Emily smiled. She smiled not because she had cornered Karen, but because she thought that, if Karen started to believe her, they could’ve become friends, or at least she would stop to dislike her for no reason, and in time she’d be forced to believe her.

“Anyway” said Karen shaking her head. “Even if we’ll get to vote, who will you vote for?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Well… I have no idea. When the time comes I’ll think about it” she answered.

“Who’s your president now?” asked Emily. She couldn’t remember.

“P. W. McIntosh” answered Karen.

“Oh right.”

“What about 2020? Who’s the president?” asked Mary-Beth.

“Oh, she is a great woman. Just think that…”

“Wait. She?” exclaimed Karen.

Both she and Mary-Beth were looking at her with their eyes wide open.

“Yes, she’s a woman. I told you, things are different in the future. No more discrimination.”

Emily was surprised by the fact that a woman president was shocking them so much. After all, they only had one hundred years of difference, how much could the minds change in one hundred years? Apparently, a lot.

“So, what we have to do if we want to go to Valentine?” she asked.

“We need a man with us” answered Mary-Beth.

“Oh gosh” she whispered. She didn’t like this patriarchal way to do things at all.

“What if we want to go alone?”

“If we go alone, we go on foot” replied Karen.

“Why not with a wagon?”

“If they steal the wagon in town, it will be our fault. It already happened in the past” answered Mary-Beth.

“So, no wagon. Horses?”

The idea wasn’t appealing, but she would do anything to have a little independence.

“Same thing. If they steal one, we won’t be able to buy another” said Karen.

“And why should the presence of a man change things?”

“Because men are intimidated by other men, not women” replied Karen.

Her tone was so matter-of-factly, that Emily found nothing to reply.

“Okay, okay. Who do you think is going to come with us?”

They thought of Charles or Javier. They seemed to be the fittest for the task. Emily suggested Uncle, but the two girls denied vigorously. Uncle was useless.

“Okay, I’ll go ask them” said Emily standing up.

“Now?” asked Mary-Beth.

“When else? We still have most of the day.”

“What about Miss Grimshaw?” asked Mary-Beth.

“We have to ask permission? We’re not working” stated Emily.

“She wants to know if we leave camp” replied Karen.

“Okay, I’ll ask her first. You two get ready. And ask Tilly if she wants to come” she yelled running away.

Emily found Miss Grimshaw behind Dutch’s tent, taking a break and admiring the landscape. She asked permission, trying not to sound begging and pathetic, and to her great surprise she didn’t object. Feeling light and a little thrilled by her success she hopped in the opposite direction again to reach the campfire where she had seen Javier. On her way she walked past Hosea, seated at the round table and reading a book.

“Why so happy, Miss Emily?” he asked as he noticed her big smile.

“I’m going to town!” she rejoiced.

“To do what?”

“Explore!”

Javier was sharping a little tiny knife when Emily reached him, and she got curious, so first of all she asked him what use might have such a small knife.

“It’s a throwing knife” he answered.

“You mean you throw it to people?”

Javier shrugged.

“Of course. Erm… I wanted to ask you, would you come with us in town? The girls and I wanted to have a look around.”

“Just me and the four of you?”

“Do you need someone else? I was about to ask Charles.”

“Go ask him. I’ll get the wagon ready” he said standing up.

...

The girl smiled at him and her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, Javier. You’re really kind” she said with her light and childish voice. Then, she leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

Javier watched at her slim figure as she walked away, feeling the piece of skin she had touched itching slightly. She had called him kind. People used to call him in many ways, but kind, never. She was crazy, no doubt about that, and naive, and quirky, but she was also the sweetest thing he had ever seen, and he couldn’t not think of her in the most innocent way because every other kind of thought, felt wrong.

He took a couple of horses and tied them to a wagon, then he hopped in the back and waited for the rest of them to come. He heard them before he saw them. They were loud. Well, they were girls. That was going to be an adventure.

“Come on brother” he said to Charles as they both climbed at the leading place.

On the road to Valentine they listened quietly to the girls’ conversation, smiling or chuckling every now and then. They were planning their time in town. Karen and Tilly wanted to go find some money, the new girl insisted for exploring the surroundings.

“We’ll split up then. Charles, you go with Karen and Tilly at the saloon. I’m coming with you two. How does it sound?” asked Javier.

“Good” answered Mary-Beth.

“Do you think we should have asked Molly to come with us? Or Abigail maybe?” asked the new girl.

“Abigail would never leave Jack behind. Miss O’Shea fancies herself a society woman, she would’t have come” said Tilly.

“What do you mean she fancies herself a society woman?”

“She believes she’s better than us because she’s with Dutch” replied Mary-Beth.

“Are they a couple?”

“Ah-ah” affirmed Tilly.

“So there are: Dutch and Molly, Abigail and John… some other couple?”

“Karen waits for Sean to come back” said Mary-Beth.

“If he’s still alive” murmured Karen lowering her eyes.

She missed that little piece of shit. She loved him, deep deep deep inside. She had never told him, and in case he was going to show up again, she had no intention to say it anyway, it would be too much for his already pompous ego.

...

“What about you girls?” asked Emily avoiding an embarrassing and sad silence.

“Us? With someone in camp?” asked Tilly, but her question was clearly rhetoric.

“Why not? I mean…”

Emily nodded towards Javier and Charles’s backs. The two girls shook their heads frowning slightly.

“Okay, so… everybody else is free?” she asked, but in her mind there was only one person she wanted to know about.

“Hosea had a wife once. She died long time ago, even before some of us were in the group” said Mary-Beth.

“And Arthur had that girl. What was her name?” asked Karen.

Emily’s heart lost a beat.

“Mary. I’ve never liked her” said Mary-Beth.

“W-why?” asked Emily trying to hide her disappointment.

“I think she left Arthur because she thinks to be better than him. She doesn’t deserve him.”

Emily felt immediately better. It was an old story, something of the past. And she had left him, so there was no chance for her return.

“What about you?” Tilly asked her.

“I had a boyfriend. We broke up some time ago because he left Saint Denis for work. I have no idea of what he’s doing now.”

“Couldn’t you go with him?” asked Mary-Beth.

“And leave my family and my job? For him? No, he wasn’t worth it.”

“Didn’t you love him?”

“Well, yes, but not that kind of love that makes you leave everything to follow him.”

“Then it wasn’t love.”

Mary-Beth’s statement outraged Emily. Of course it was love. She had loved him. Or not? If that wasn’t love, what was?

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #mary-beth gaskill #tilly jackson #karen jones #javier escuella #Charles Smith

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Note

if anon hasn't swung by yet, i'm here to ask what happens when remy realizes when he's in love with patton

Yes hello!! Welcome to: so you’re a gay bastard who’s just met a literal ray of sunshine who’s as fluffy and soft and sugary sweet as a marshmallow. falling in love’s inevitable, but how does the gay bastard recognize when it’s happened to him??? come find out!

set in the Mindscape because I Said So

Remy exists as a function of Thomas

Most functions just live in the Imagination but he’s active enough he gets his own room with the sides

(Technically it’s just a guest bedroom that’s in Thomas’s house- Remy took the memory of it and put it in the mindscape to use, which is why Thomas can never accurately remember the room or its layout when he’s not in it sjdbfhjsd)

That’s not super important but I wanted to say it

Anyways

Remy interacts with the other sides, of course

He doesn’t always get on amazingly with all of them, though

As a technical ward of the Imagination, Remy feels… slightly awkward dealing with Roman or Remus extensively. It’s not like he can’t, it just feels off

He and Virgil can be snarky and sassy together but they also clash a good amount when it comes to bedtime for Thomas

He’s not really ever up against Logan or Deceit, and they get on well enough, but it’s not like they click like natural friends or anything (shocking, I know, given my losleep agenda, but shhhh I haven’t gotten to the good part of this bullet fic)

Patton, however, is the exception

Sure, Remy may not be a happy-pappy optimist like Patton is, but surprisingly enough… he appreciates Patton’s brightness, his sunny outlook, his big smiles and sweet offers

And Patton is surprisingly accepting of Remy’s snark and sass and snap. He finds them amusing, enjoys entertaining his quips and returning them with puns and wordplay and giggles

Their friendship’s a quick-formed one, one that’s usually found chatting in the kitchen while Remy abuses the coffee machine and Patton bakes, but also in the Commons watching various shows you’d never expect them to watch, and in each other’s rooms when it’s late and they should be sleeping but they can’t for one reason or another so they waste the time sipping hot cocoa and talking together instead, and more

It’s good. They’re good.

Remy really should have seen this coming

He has a lot of chances to fall in love with Patton

And he takes all these chances very happily

But there’s only one where he realizes that he’s fallen, and fallen HARD

There were many moments that could have been ‘the one’

Like one of the few times he chose to bake instead of just watch with his coffee, him complaining about the mess while Patton laughed and showed him how to do it

They always ended up with something edible smeared on his face- chocolate or frosting or cookie dough, just a touch normally dashed against his chin or cheeks

And that always ended with Patton carefully wiping away the substance (and once or twice, on more memorable substances, kissing it off- normally when it was a smear of Patton’s favorite cookie dough)

One of those times, when Patton and Remy’s faces were stupidly close, Patton tenderly wiping away whatever mess was left on Remy’s face, Remy’s sunglasses useless to hide his gaze when this close, eyes both on each other, would have been a perfect time for Remy to remember that he was very gay and Patton was very cute

But he normally only remembered the ‘very cute’ part without any context, and another day passed with him left in self-ignorance

He could have realized it one of the times a movie marathon of cheesy romcoms (Remy and Patton both loved the cheese for different reasons) ran long and Patton fell asleep against him, head against Remy’s shoulder and body tucked against Remy’s side

He only got closer to Remy the longer he was asleep, but that was okay. Remy knew a sleepy Patton was a cuddly one. He just wrapped his arm over Patton and held him closer

Patton was always mumbling something when he was sleeping, which was cute, Remy had considered, cute how he scrunched up his nose as he thought before spilling out nonsense words and phrases

Cute how he would smile at whatever his sleepy thoughts were

Cute how sometimes he’d just… happy wiggle. Remy wasn’t sure why, but one minute Patton would be pressed against his side and the next he’d be doing a lil wiggly-shake and then he’d be back to trying to meld his body with Remy’s. It was cute.

Eventually, Patton would open his eyes, just a little, looking tired and sleepy, blinking blearily at Remy but not trying to move away from his side

He’d ask what had happened, when he’d fallen asleep, and Remy would just chuckle quietly and run a hand through Patton’s hair and say it’s alright, go back to bed, he’d take care of it

And Patton would just nod and lie his head against Remy again and be asleep almost immediately

And soon enough Remy would slowly, carefully, gently pick Patton up and move him to his bed, staying just long enough for Patton’s blankets and sheets to warm up and mimic his own warmth- hence making Patton willing to release him- before leaving

And if he lingered a moment in the doorway before leaving, wishing he could stay, could curl up with Patton and kiss his forehead and fall asleep with him?

Well… Patton was warm and cute and cuddly. Who wouldn’t want to sleep and cuddle with him? That was a Normal Friendship Thought to have. It didn’t mean anything!

And once more, His Sunglasses Make Him Oblivious Remy strikes again

Incidents similar to the baking ones and the sleepy ones continue to happen

Remy spends a good two hours doing nothing but trading horrible puns with Patton because they make Patton giggle and chuckle and LAUGH and for some reason Remy just realized he could listen to that laugh for weeks and if puns causes it… then puns he shall tell

He learns to do basic sewing because Patton accidentally rips his catigan a lot and yes Patton can sew and he does fix his own tears but Remy likes to sneak in and fix them when Patton’s busy (Patton always gets excited, later, having decided that he’s got some sort of guardian angel looking out for him but unsure who. Patton’s happiness over the whole thing’s enough for Remy- he never admits it’s him)

When Patton’s doing something/is distracted, Remy will sneak up behind him and pick him up and spin him in a half-circle and Patton will giggle and Remy will never feel more alive than he does every time he does it

There’s a lot of moments like these, where Remy turns into an absolute sap over Patton doing something as impressive as Smiling, and yet Remy throughout it all, Remy refuses to just realize ‘oh hey shit I’m in love’

Finally, however, not even Remy’s thick dark sunglasses and mindset of ‘what is love (baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more)’ can stop him from realizing how lost he is on this boi

It all happens one late night

Remy’s sleepless and up and wandering

He notices, eventually, that the light’s on in Patton’s room, and he figures, hey! late-night buddy, let’s say hi

The hi was well-timed, but not for the reasons Remy had hoped

Remy peeks in the crack and finds that, yeah, Patton’s up, but he’s also hugging a body pillow and his eyes are a little red and there’s a tiny bit of sniffling and okay someone’s not having a good night and for once it’s not Thomas as Virgil slowly goes through decades-old memories

Remy had been looking for someone to goofy off with at two am but now it is Comfort The Fluffball time and he is READY for this mission

He doesn’t go in immediately- pulling away and quietly making his way downstairs first, quickly making two mugs of hot cocoa, putting in plenty of mini marshmallows in Patton’s (and bringing the bag of them as well, for when Patton inevitably wants to snack on them)

Then he goes back upstairs, lightly bumping Patton’s door with his foot until he hears a loud sniffle and Patton hastily whisper-shouting to give him a moment

Remy waits, listening to the shuffling noises, well-aware that Patton’s cleaning his face off, trying to hide his self-perceived sin of feeling bad

Eventually, the door opens, Patton’s eyes still red as he refuses to meet Remy’s, aware the function has likely already guessed he’s not doing amazingly

His eyes light up, a bit, however, when he sees the cocoas and the marshmallow bag beneath Remy’s elbow and Remy’s gentle ‘I’m here’ smile, and Remy feels his heart light up at that

Patton lets him in, taking his mug and the bag of marshmallows from Remy as he does so, moving back on to the bed and leaning against the body pillow he had been crying into a moment ago (Remy can tell because the top of it’s damp) and he gestures for Remy to join him

And Remy does, sitting down right next to him, pressing against his side and resting his head against Patton’s

They don’t speak, just sipping their cocoas and being close

They’ve talked about it before, Patton’s tendency to repress his bad emotions and isolate himself from help

And Remy knows Patton’s trying

Patton letting him in is trying

So Remy’s not going to talk about it, because that’s not what Patton needs now. He needs to be able to be safe with someone. To be comfortable, to be un-judged despite the tear tracks on his cheeks

Remy’s halfway done with his cocoa when he lightly bumps Patton’s foot. He’s wearing bright mis-matched socks whereas Remy’s got black ones with coffee cups on them, the steam coming out of them in the shape of z’s (Patton gave them to him, and ever since, Remy’s always worn socks at night)

A smile twitches onto Patton’s face as he bumps Remy’s back

It’s small

It’s important

Eventually, they finish their cocoas

Patton places his mug on his bedside table, automatically accepting Remy’s and moving it there too

He takes the marshmallow bag, then, pulling a few out and squishing them between his fingers as he pops a few in his mouth

Remy smiles, watching Patton amuse himself with the marshmallows for a moment before asking, softly, ‘do you want to watch some tv? or do you think you’re ready to go to bed?’

‘bed’ Patton answers immediately. he knew the question was coming. Remy always asked it on nights like this.

‘of course’ Remy answers easily, beginning to stand up, moving to take the mugs away and part with a few words of reassurance and a reminder that Remy’ll find someone to cover making breakfast in the morning, please, Patton, sleep in

He’s stopped when Patton grabs his arm, just lightly tugging on his arm and pulling Remy back to sitting beside him

‘please stay’ Patton asks, quietly, but still fiercely, as if if his voice wasn’t strong enough, his want for this not there enough, Remy would say no (Remy knew he never would’ve so much as dreamed of saying no)

‘of course’ Remy repeated as the moral side tossed the marshmallow bag onto his bedside table. ‘how long do you want me to stay?’

‘until- I mean- until I fall asleep?’ Patton settled on, hesitantly

Remy frowned as he gently reached out, cupping Patton’s cheek with one hand. he didn’t press, since he knew Patton wouldn’t tell him what he really wanted if pressed. he’d clam up and stick to his lie. he had to be given time.

Patton leaned the slightest into the touch, letting the silence hold for a moment before he said, quietly, ‘I don’t want to be alone’

‘you won’t be’ Remy murmured back, easily coazing Patton into his arms, happy to let the moral side fold into his chest, pressing himself ever closer to Remy as Remy held him ever tighter

He slowly tugged Patton over, pulling Patton’s duvet over the two of them as he settled them down amongst the pillows of Patton’s bed, the lights in his room turning off at Remy’s mental urging

Patton moved with him easily, happy to be held, snuggling close against Remy and tucking his head beneath Remy’s neck and tangling their legs together and more or less enuring that Remy wouldn’t be getting up until he did (not that Remy minded)

Soon enough, they were still, Patton breathing deeply, very quickly falling asleep as Remy rubbed circles into his back

‘hey, Remy?’ Patton asked, words slurring as he fought the call of sleep to say whatever he had to say

‘yeah, babes?’

‘thank you, for... for everything’

Remy smiled, a stupidly sappy smile, safely hidden in the dark. ‘of course, Pat. always happy to help.’

Patton hummed in agreement to that, nodding a bit against Remy’s chest. when he didn’t say anything more, Remy thought he had fallen asleep, until Patton said one last thing,

‘I love you’

It wasn’t that surprising- Patton had said it before, and so had Remy, normally after Remy had complimented Patton’s cookies or after Patton showed a complete lack of shame for a rather terrible pun- but he had never said it like this before, so quietly, so simply, so meaningfully

It took him a moment to collect himself enough to respond, and by then Patton had fallen asleep, but it didn’t matter, because Remy still said it,

‘I love you too’

And that, dear reader, is when Remy realized just how heavy the weight behind those words was

That’s when Remy realizes he’s in love

Anddddd because I’m a bastard (and also tired and said I’d post this today) that’s where this ends, even though I now remember the question was ‘what happens when Remy realizes he’s in love with Patton’ and not ‘how’ he realizes, but shhhhhhh enjoy what I gave you

And like,,,, I’m not saying I’ll give this a part two if y’all want to see what happens after Remy finally comes to terms with the fact that he’s in love with the sun, but like... I def will just hmu sometime sdfjsvfsdf

#also no editing whatsoever we die like men #hope y'all like this dfhsjfds #sleepality #ts patton #ts remy #ts sleep #the cryptid speaks #the cryptid answers #dani

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years ago

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one day (i know that you will be there)

Summary: Here, have some fluffy transbur :D

Pairings: gen everyone, with a specific focus on crimeboys

Read on AO3

Word count: 2070

Warnings: None? I guess? Tell me if there are any, but I don’t see them

Other notes: Part of @noorahqar‘s BANGER discord server Pride Event!

Please DO NOT send this to the CC’s or even imply that this exists because No, Thank you

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Sometimes, it feels like it's okay. Nothing's wrong at all and in fact, Wilbur is happy.

Other times it feels like he's stuck in his own skin, a place he can't get out of.

Wilbur doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He's always been cis, it's all he knows we it's his comfort zone. Even while his life was being wholly upended by YouTube, and Twitch and life in general, Wilbur's gender was always a constant- the one thing he never worried about or spent too much time on. It was his gender, and it was just kind of...there.

Sometimes when gender is part of the conversation, people display confusion when Wilbur talks about his gender like something separate from him that was tied on and is just there now, like a bit of hair that can never stay in place, but isn't necessarily a bother, either. But isn't gender like that for everyone?

Well, according to the one and only Tommyinnit, no.

"Well… for me, my gender is pretty malleable. It's more of a fucking... fucking abstract concept than a feeling? I'm a little detached from mine, but not as much as that, Wilbs."

"Then what is your gender like?" Wilbur asks. It's late on a Friday night, and Wilbur had ended up visiting Tommy's flat out of mostly impulse, living just under a kilometre away from his sibling these days. They're in the living room, splayed out on the floor talking about anything and everything in the dark, too quiet to wake Tubbo and Ranboo.

Wilbur’s not agender- he has a gender that he keeps around, even if it stays reasonably sectioned away from the rest of him.

Tommy hums, an older tune that Wilbur can't place as he fiddles around with some wool scraps ("Cabbages!" Tommy insists indignantly) leftover from the cardigan they had just finished when Wilbur walked in. It's a burgundy colour that's probably going to be matched with one of Tommy's longer cream skirts to University Monday morning.

"My gender is a… a kind of vibe? I guess? To me it feels like skirts doing that cool swoosh thing in the wind around you while you walk or eating Tubbo's chicken soup and that feeling I always got after a Dream SMP stream. It's weird, but that's my gender I guess." And that is weird. It's weird as fuck, but Tommy's gender sounds really fucking cool so Wilbur tries anyways. Tries to imagine what his gender, the amorphous entity that it is, feels like to him.

It's hard, at first, but then Wilbur starts humming. He's always done better with auditory concepts than visual or tactile ones, strumming tunes together that tie in with his latest hyperfixation.

So Wilbur hums. He starts with 'White Wine in a Wetherspoons' and then 'Cause for Concern' with a little bit of 'Your new Boyfriend' thrown in for posterity as it all starts to come together. Tommy starts tapping his finger on the plywood floor, creating a small beat.

His gender feels nice, actually, and not just the neutral burden that the universe has him carry around. It begins to feel like the warmth in Wilbur's chest when someone says "Hey, don't stop. Tell me more, this is interesting" to even the most niche fixations that Wilbur has ever had, like the different types of bricks or the historical fashion one he had at the same time as Tommy and they made dozens of Pinterest boards together (1830’s hairstyles his beloved). It feels like Phil calling him 'Son' in that chamomile accent, like everything will be fine. It feels like the tipsy laughs he and Niki share when getting drunk together and it sounds like the quick, comforting 'bzzt bzzt bzzt' of Tommy's sewing machine running on the other side of the flat while Wilbur makes them breakfast because they and his flatmates are fundamentally incapable of looking after themselves.

It's really a pretty nice gender, actually. So when Wilbur closes its metaphorical pouch and clips it back onto his metaphorical backpack, he feels lighter, warmer inside than before. Is this how Tommy feels sometimes?

The tapping stops and Wilbur realises that Tommy's fallen asleep, surrounded by scraps of cabbage on a fairly cold plywood floor. This will not do. Thankfully, Wilbur has gained enough arm strength to reasonably carry the nineteen-year-old to his bedroom, carefully avoiding sewing pins that Tommy will clean up frantically in the morning. Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep as before, in the same place, huddled together on the lowest bunk covered in blankets, with just enough room for another person.

Tommy fits in perfectly, head on Ranboo's shoulder and the rest of him swathed in blankets to protect from the cold. It's started to show fairly heavily outside so going home is not possible. Therefore, Wilbur stays.

The guest room still has some of his shit from the last time he stayed over, around a week ago. Piling a thick-ish duvet on top of himself, Wilbur sleeps, more at peace than he's ever been.

Monday morning, Wilbur tries out pronouns. He was spending the weekend in a bit of a haze of filming and social interaction and talking to Elodie, his editor, in order to have most of this week free.

He's back at home with pronoun dressing rooms loaded on Firefox, a Geoguessur stream finished and a free day with spoons to spare. It is time.

First- she/her.

This is Wilbur, the site reads, She's 27 years old with a penchant for making songs. She also really likes hanging out with her sibling, Tommy and her best friends on the Dream SMP. She still ships DNF.

Oh. Oh wow. She/Her works pretty well actually. Wilbur likes that for herself.

Next- they/them. This is not as nice, but it's also not bad, necessarily.

Fae/Faer- this one is pleasant enough.

Everything else is okay, Wilbur supposes. She figures that just knowing that he/him isn't the only answer is good enough for herself.

The first person she tells is Tommy, on a phone call during one of his frees.

“Okay, so he, she and fae, right?” they ask, rolling the pronouns around like the colorful hard candies sold in packets of two hundred each, muttering small sentences, barely audible to the phone mic amongst the dozens of student voices around him, pitter-pattering like sleet on cars heard from a cozy living room.

“Yeah. pronouns change by the day. Please don’t interchange them.” Wilbur confirms, short and soft.

“Oh that’s really fucking cool. What are they today? Does anyone else know? Do you have names you want to be called instead?” Tommy asks, orange-sweet in his kind concern and slowed down questions as to not deflate the souffle in Wilbur’s brain.

“Uh, she/her, and no, not yet on the knowing and the name thing. I’m going to tell Phil and Niki, then Dream, probably. Wish me luck.” Wilbur answers, the ‘wish me luck’ thrown in more as a formality than anything, but she’s still nervous, thoughts spinning in popcorn-crunch circles, pop pop pop about how it could go wrong and even if Tommy and Ranboo were accepted, perhaps that courtesy won’t be extended to her. Tommy, the absolute fucking legend as always seems to have figured that much out.

“Wil. Wilbur. Wilby. Big Dubs- It’s going to be fucking fine, you’re popcorn-popping again and while that’s one of your idiosyncrasies and I fucking love those, you are also freaking the fuck out. Everything will be fine, alright?”

“Idiosyncrasies? Where did you learn that? Is ‘The Tommyinnit’ learning new big words?” Wilbur teases, to mask her affection just a little bit, even as it seeps out of her voice like honey in a sopapilla, warm and sticky and sweet.

“Don’t fucking patronize me.” Tommy retorts, instinctive as it’s been for the past few years now, no bite behind their words. “I’ve got South Asian Lit now- call us in the evening?” he asks, because Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are a single unit in the evening. Do not attempt separation till after midnight. Wilbur laughs, a small thing only audible to her sibling over the phone.

“Course. You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

“Okay. Now I need to walk like, three buildings or some shit, so I’m hanging the fuck up. See you later?” Tommy’s voice is softer towards the end, cotton candy and Wilbur melts, just a little bit.

“Okay, bye Tommy.”

“Bye Wil. Good luck.” Tommy hangs up a few seconds later, the last thing on the line that Wilbur can hear being Ranboo’s steadily louder voice as end catches up to Tommy, and Wilbur keeps the phone to her ear for a few seconds more, before putting it on charge and loading up Discord, to find Phil and Dream on VC 3 together, Tubbo and Purpled occupying the beloved VC 2.

Wilbur joins the call, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, and taking a sip of lukewarm tea. Earl Grey, probably taken from the tea box Phil gifted her on Christmas and prepares herself.

“Ay, H’lo, son.”

“Hey, Wilbur!” Dream’s voice, chirpy and crisp as a freshly-picked apple registers first, just before Phil’s comforting chamomile and Wilbur is at ease very quickly, because it’s Dream and Phil. It is literally impossible for things to go wrong.

“Hi! I just came on here to tell you something.” Wilbur starts. After hearing noises of agreement, like popping candy, Wilbur starts.

“Um, so on Friday, Tommy and I did some soul-searching. Well, I did most of the searching. And uh, I figured out that I’m technically genderfluid, but my gender is a series of abstracts and I use he, she and fae pronouns.” It’s quiet for a second, before Phil responds.

“Hey, that’s pogchamp, mate. What pronouns are you using right now? Are they interchangeable?” Dream makes a noise in agreement, in questioning.

“Thanks, and uh, she/her, and no. not interchangeable. I use certain pronouns until I don’t.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Should I update your pronoun role in the Discord to ‘ask for pronouns’?” Dream finally says, and in typical Dream fashion, it’s by getting straight to business. It’s ridiculously endearing, even five years on, knowing everyone’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies (thanks Tommy for reminding her that the word exists) that it’s still possible to be endeared by them, and that they’re all still endeared to her.

“Yes please, Dream. Thank you. I’ll make a small announcement on the server myself, but thanks.”

“No problem, Wilbur! We’re glad you’re happy.”

“What the green-bitch said, mate.” Phil responds, and Dream turns on his camera for that only, just to show that he isn’t actually wearing green- he’s wearing a blue T-shirt, blonde hair mussed about enough to show that he did not comb it when he woke up. His face still has some sleep leftovers, but he’s awake enough to pay attention, and he’s smiling at Wilbur, mouse clicking very fast to change her discord role, and it shows up a few seconds later with a purple dot. ‘ask for my pronouns’. Wilbur is smiling like an idiot, and she turns on her camera, Phil following suit as she starts laughing a little wetly and all of this sinks in.

Wilbur is gender-fluid. She loves herself, her family and the little pouch still strapped to her backpack. Phil is whispering things into the mic soothingly and Dream is grinning at her, and it just feels so good. The bad feeling in Wilbur’s skin just isn’t here today, and it feels like it won’t be around for a while yet.

With slightly blurry eyes trying to see through her glasses, Wilbur makes an announcement with the @everyone turned on.

Bitchbur (she/her today): @everyone I’m here to announce that I’m genderfluid! You can either ask me my pronouns or I’ll just change my nick. The name’s still Wilbur. That’s about it.

Replies start coming in, nothing but messages of support and thumbs-up emoticons, and Wilber closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, laughing a bit more. She’s so happy that she managed to accept herself, and find acceptance in everyone else on this server. She probably won’t come out to the internet for a while, or even to some of her real-life friends but that’s okay.

She’s got everything she needs right here.

#dream smp #mcyt #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #writers on tumblr #vee's writing #2021 #do not repost

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im14andivebeen14foramonth · 5 years ago

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The Parent Trap - Chapter 1

This lovely art piece was done by @sanderssidestrash27 !!! You guys should definitely give them a good compliment for it, I love it!!!

So here's the first chapter, sorry it took so long adjjaajasndj but I really hope you guys like it! Lemme know what you think!!!!! Also lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist!! (There are probably a lot of editing mistakes sorry bout those!!!!)

They didn't mean to fall in love. It just sort of happened.

Patton James was all alone, perched over the side of the large cruise boat watching the dark waves below him pass by. He thought it was beautiful, the way the waves were able to reflect the bright moon lingering above him in the clouy sky. By day, the view from the boat was absolutely gorgeous. But at night, it was stunning. Awfully hypnotic, even. He kept getting lost in the view, barely able to keep his eyes off of it.

A certain other man was also having trouble keeping his eyes off a rather beautiful view.

Janus Parker was all alone, perched awkwardly a feet away from a particularly quiet sir. He thought the man was beautiful. Golden locks of fluffy hair tucked behind his ears. A flowy, pastel blue button down tucked into pastel yellow pants with thin white vertical stripes. He certainly looked out of place. Every other man on the cruise had black slacks with a black overcoat and a normal button down, or at least something of the sort. Janus himself was dawned on black slacls, a yellow button down and a black overcoat. Janus had noticed the man wearing a white overcoat through small glances at him in the party hall but looking around now he couldn't seem to spot it. And with the cold water coming up the side of the boat in sprays in the chilly breeze all around, the lack of attire seemed to leave the other man rubbing his arms. The flowy material of his shirt couldn't have been much help, either. Still, with the odd sense of fashion and the state the other man was in, Janus thought he was stunning. Hypnotic, even.

Yet there he stood, watching the other man shivering in his shoes. He didn't even know what the man's name was that he had been watching all night. Hell, the man he was watching didn't know Jamie's either, let alone that he had been watching him! Oh boy, any unlucky person to walk by would think he was some creep or something! But he just couldn't being himself to make a move, to walk over and at least say hello. He felt like a coward the way he had been staring from afar all this time. Usually Janus was suave and charming, flirtatious even. But looking at this man, this gorgeous, lovely man, Janus was at a loss for words. No matter how hard he willed his legs to me forward, his feet to just go one after another, he just couldn't do it. He was just so nervous. No, no, scratch that. He wasn't just nervous, no, Janus was scared shitless. Now that was to say the least. This gorgeous man stood only a few feet away from him, shi Bering and alone, yet he was scared shitless.

Janus sighed. If he wasn't going to even try and go up to the man, what was the point of standing around like some creep all night? It's not like he had anything better to do, he was here in the cruise all by himself. But still, he should do something better with his time, at least try to enjoy the few days on the boat. He was sure he could find something to do with himself that didn't involve stalking after some stranger. He lingered for only a minute longer before deciding that it was time to go. But just as he we about to turn and walk off, a small voice cracked through the quiet of the night.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at me while I freeze to death or are you going to offer me that jacket of yours? I mean I'm not getting any younger over here, " the man asked with a smirk. Janus startled at the unexpected question, even more so at how sly the man sounded when he asked it. But would you look at that, despite the obvious open invitation, Janus just stood there like a bumbling idiot. His cheeks were most definitely flushed a dark red and his eyes were blown wide as he continued to stand stiff in his place. When the other didn't hear a response from the flustered man, he turned his head to look over his shoulder and directly into Janus' s eyes.

God. Damn.

If Janus thought this man was gorgeous from a few glances and a side profile, then whooo boy. The man just had a certain look to him. There was a mischievous glint deep in his eyes, in his big, gorgeous blue eyes, that paired nicely with his little smirk. His hair was completely out of his face, giving Janus a full view.Even with only the moonlight to shine upon the other, Janus could tell he was drop dead gorgeous. And with the way Janus looked at the moment, the other thought he just about might drop dead right there. He looked like a fish with his mouth hanging open like that, a bright red fish apparently with his flushed red cheeks.

He shook his head in an attempt to regain his composure. Soon his red cheeks were only slightly tinted pink, along with the tips of his ears. His lips formed into a smirk.

"Where are my manners?" Janus said, walking over to the side of the man. He shrugged his overcoat off of his shoulders and was met with a chilled breeze.

Janus leaned down to the shorter man to place the overcoat on his shoulders, but not before stealing a closer glance into his bright, sky colored eyes. He almost melted the second the piece of attire was layed on him.

"That cold now, are we?" Janus chuckled. He adjusted himself to match the other's position, with his forearms laying on the edge of the boat and leaning forward. He tried his hardest to look cool and charming as he turned his head to look at the other.

"Well, I've been standing out here waiting for this jacket of yours for God knows how long, actually I'm surprised I'm not a popsicle yet, " he laughed. He turned towards Janus, who looked utterly baffled by the man's words.

"But-but you has a jacket inside, in the ballroom, I saw it. I mean not in a creepy way, I mean it's not like I was watching you I was just-I mean yeah technically I was but it's just because you're so awfully cute-no wait I didn't mean to say that! Not that you're not cute because wow you're really cute and where's your jacket?" Janus stumbled , eventually getting out at least something close to comprehensible. He looked everywhere but at the man, who he could hear laughing beside him. When he finally looked over at the amused man, he saw him with one hand covering his beaming grin and the other pointing downwards. Slowly, Janus turned his head and peered over the side of the cruise. And would you look at that, floating right there in the water was the white overcoat. Realization of hit him all at once and busted out laughing.

"You did not throw your jacket overboard just so that I would give you mine," Janus snorted.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess we'll never know." The two laughed together for a little while longer before falling into a short quiet.

"Sooooo," the man started, "What's the "J" on this jacket of yours stand for?" Janus looked over to see the other man fiddling with the sewed on letter.

"Janus. Janus Parker," he said. "and who may be the lovely man wearing my jacket? " he inched just slightly closer to the man, trying to look charming as ever.

"Patton. Patton James."

"My, what a lovely name you've got there Patton."

"Thank you, Janus. I got it for my birthday. " The joke left Janus giggling with Patton soon f following the action.

"Handsome and funny. Well, Mr. James, would you care to join me for a bottle of wine?"

"What kind?" Patton asked, ever the tease.

"Only the finest chardonnay."

"It's a date."

"How about we make it a little more than a date?" Janus asked nervously.

"Deal."

That's how it all started, in the side of the Queen Elizabeth the 2 on a rather chilly night. With two secret love birds. With a midnight black jacket on pastel clad shoulders. With a bottle of wine. With a paper and pen. With two signatures. With two "I do's". With a kiss.

They didn't mean to fall in love. It just sort of happened. But you can be certain that it wouldn't be the last time.

Tag list: @eggrollsandfandoms @sanderssidestrash27 @ab-artist @yep-another-fander @safesandersides

#gmos nook #writing #parent trap au

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Changes - part six Word count: ±5000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part six: Zoë remains one step in front Dean, which annoys the cocky hunter. As new details about the case unravel, both Winchester brothers find out that the independent woman is not planning to share. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Dean squints when he steps into the light. A clear blue stretches out across the sky, the bright color gradually turning paler as it closes in on the horizon. He’s outside in the parking lot crammed with cars; the desk clerk wasn’t lying when he said he was fully booked. The place doesn’t have a sinister feel to it anymore like it did last night, allowing the hunter to let his guard down on this caffeine-deprived morning. The older Winchester brother needs a fix and he needs it badly. Sam drank all the instant coffee and he refuses to drink that shit from the machine in the lobby.

He expected it to be chilly outside, but the sun feels pleasantly warm. Sam woke him up, turning up the volume of the radio completely during the drum solo of a Guns ‘N Roses song. Not because his little brother likes that particular music, but he does like to watch Dean bolt upward in bed. Payback, because the older Winchester can’t deny that he pulled a similar prank on his brother more than once. Honestly, he’s glad Sammy is starting to mess with him again. It’s been a while since they acted like siblings. The joke was a good wake up call, too, he has to admit, but he still feels hungover: wrecked, tired and in desperate need of a cup of coffee, or several.

Traffic rushes by, most of the cars and trucks entering the city of Rochester. It’s a big town, big enough for people to disappear in without others noticing. For a moment, he thinks of those the shapeshifter already took. Sam found a string of at least three disappearances and that conclusion was drawn from the information he had access to offline while Dean was driving up north. These people could be anywhere. Dead? Probably. Going to die if they don’t find that bastard’s hideout fast? Definitely. But before he can work, he needs food, too. Dunkin’ Donuts, now that would be a treasure in this town.

When he asked Sam where Zoë was, all he got was “out”, followed by, “she’s already getting us lunch” when Dean grabbed his wallet and intended to leave. He went outside anyway, in need of some fresh air. His shoulder is throbbing, shooting daggers through his arm whenever he moves it, but as long as he keeps it still, it’s not too bad. In the bathroom earlier, he did peel the gauze back slightly to check the injury, and he has to admit that he was impressed. He might not be able to stand Zoë, but she did an awesome job removing that bullet and sewing him back together. Plus, the painkillers she offered are a God’s gift.

Slowly, he strolls towards his car. The pitch-black Chevrolet Impala blinks in the sun, chrome glistening. Dean smiles; what a sight for sore eyes. He’s honored to own the car Dad gave him a while back. Not just because she’s such a joy to drive, but because it was Dad’s first car. He kind of owes it to his old man to take good care of her. It’s what he expects him to do; to look after the family. “Hey, Baby,” he greets his Chevy, letting his fingertips glide over the trunk. “Since when have we reached the phase that you call me ‘baby’?”

Dean looks over the top of the Impala and finds Zoë’s Harley parked on the other side, but he can’t spot the owner. When he moves around his car he finds her, laying on her back underneath her bike. “Who says I was talking to you?” Dean returns, leaning against the hood. She crawls from under the Road King and judgmentally observes him for a few seconds, then she grabs a socket wrench and slips back under. “Right, men talk to their cars. I forgot they do that,” she nags.

Dean grins and decides not to respond; it’s still early and he’s not sharp yet. The rhythmical sound of the bolt being turned sounds like music to his ears and he has the sudden urge to pull his tools out of the trunk and get some work done himself. But Baby is fine, she doesn’t need any TLC right now. “What’s wrong with your bike?” Dean asks curiously. “I was in a bit of a hurry last night, probably hit a speed bump. It’s just the gasket, nothing serious,” she explains, keeping her eyes on the exhaust. “And what’s wrong with you?” he rephrases his question. “Excuse me?” Caught off guard, she pauses, but doesn’t make an effort to get out from under her Harley. Dean doesn’t bother to repeat himself. “You heard me.” “There’s nothing wrong with me, Shortbus.” Zoë continues tightening the bolt, faster than she did a moment ago, annoyed about the fact that she doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “Then what is that bandage doing there?” Dean asks smartly. Startled, Zoë sits up and hits her head hard against the chrome outlet of her bike, causing a loud bang. Cursing like a sailor she lands back on the ground. “Ow! Fucking hell!”

She didn’t realize her shirt crawled up. Dean smirks at the string of strong language, but hides his smile when she surfaces from under the bike. Irritated, she pulls down her buttoned shirt to hide the gauze through which a little bit of blood has formed a perfect circle in the shape of a bullet wound. She uncomfortably pretends like neither he nor she saw it and disappears under her Harley again. Dean, of course, isn’t going to let it go. “Did Sam shoot you?” “What?” “Last night he fired two bullets. Did he shoot you?” Dean repeats. The huntress scoffs. “Ha! Your little bro isn’t that fast on the draw.” “I’m not kidding,” he states seriously. “Someone apparently was.”

She gives the bolt one last turn and appears from under the bike, this time without hitting her head. Annoyed, she looks up at him, lightning in her brown eyes. Zoë is nowhere near admitting to him what went down. Shit. How the hell is she gonna talk herself out of this one? “Don’t worry, Sam won’t get the credit,” Zoë comments snarky, as she grabs a dirty cloth and cleans her hands, looking away. “If he didn’t do it, who did?” he interrogates, clearly not accepting a smart answer. “What does it matter? It’s nothing serious,” she mutters, getting up. “It is. You got shot, damn it,” Dean argues. “So did you. How’s that shoulder by the way?” Zoë quickly changes the subject, but Dean is smart enough not to take the bait. “No - no - no,” He shakes his head and grins. “I’m not gonna fall for that one. My shoulder’s fine, thanks, but you’re still answering that question.” She sighs; seems like there’s no way out of this. “It’s not that bad, it was a clean shot,” she assures, still avoiding Dean’s question. “Did you get the bullet out?” Dean asks, almost parental. Zoë narrows her eyes at him. “Of course I got the bullet out.” “Who shot you?” he asks again, slowly this time.

Zoë doesn’t answer and saunters up to him, after which she leans against Dean’s Chevy as well. Her hair, still damp from the shower she took earlier and seems black. Despite the crappy night, her natural tan gives her a healthy appearance. The only thing that gives away that she’s tired, are the slightly visible dark circles under her eyes. When she looks aside, she meets Dean’s gaze, who’s waiting for some kind of response. With a sigh, she gives him an answer. “The shapeshifter.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, needing a moment to analyze her words. He doesn’t know which question he needs to ask first. “You ran into him?”

Zoë averts her gaze, debating her conscience. Should she tell him? She knows he will keep digging until he does, but she could lie, obviously. Oh, what the hell. She might as well give him the whole story. “Yeah, yesterday evening. I had an appointment with a possible next victim, this guy called Cliffer. Turned out the son of a bitch already shed into him,” she explains. “Wait… Cliffer? As in Terry Cliffer?” Dean double checks. She suspiciously tilts her head while looking at him. “Yeah.” “Shit.” He rubs his face, realizing what is going on. “You’re Sharon Evans.” “What? How the hell do you know my alias?” Zoë asks with a tone. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Sam technically did get you shot,” he starts off hesitating. “Beg pardon?!” she cries out, turning towards him, completely stunned. “We rang Cliffer around five yesterday afternoon, to meet up with him,” he admits. She stares at him as the missing links connect. She places a hand on her hips, switching her weight to one leg, radiating her attitude. “Let me guess! FBI?” “Yeah. He asked if Sam was Sharon Evans’s partner. We didn’t realize we were on somebody else’s case,” he admits. “You son of a…”

She swallows down another waterfall of curse words and turns around furiously. That’s why the bastard changed! She didn’t give herself away, those dumbass Winchesters did! It’s a bit of a coincidence that two federal agents call, being on the same case without knowing it. The shapeshifter was tailing Cliffer already, she was suspecting that, but when it learned about the appointments, it changed shape quicker than planned. The fucker knew there was at least one hunter in town. It was on to her! “Fuck!” she exclaims.

Furious, she turns away and walks back and forth between Dean’s car and her bike. Dean just follows her with his eyes, not saying a word. He knows that anything coming out of his mouth will only make her angrier, even if it’s just a smart attempt to lighten the mood. “What time’s that appointment?” “Five-thirty.” “Where?” “A bar. I’m not sure where.” “You don’t know?!” she snaps. “Sam knows. He made the appointment, not me,” he returns. Zoë rolls her eyes and forks her fingers through her hair, staring at the passing traffic for a moment.

“I don’t see why this is a bad thing,” Dean starts off, casually, but she doesn’t take it well. “You don’t see why this is a bad thing? It probably means the real Terry Cliffer is dead!” she hisses, lowering her voice when guests walk out the Motel Six. “You don’t know that. There could be two of them walkin’ around,” Dean argues. “The shifter doesn’t know that we’ve met. That gives us the advantage. It doesn’t know we know.” “What was your major plan then, Hannibal Smith?” she taunts. “I don’t have a plan. Like I said–-” “- Sam’s the geek, I know. God, seems like your folks saved the brains for the second child,” she huffs, turning on her heels as she crosses her arms firmly in front of her chest.

Dean glares at her, offended. Not that she notices, with her back already turned to him. She picks up the tools she used for the repair and puts them back in a small case, resting on the saddle. While she cleans up, Zoë tries to figure out some kind of plan, but if she’s not even sure who Sam actually made that appointment with, then how can she work out a strategy? Big chance that she’ll meet the shifter, but it could very well be Terry, so she can't actually go in guns blazing. Cliffer hasn’t been reported missing yet, even though he has a wife and kids. If he did disappear, they would have called the authorities and Zoë would know about that. Nothing is certain, which makes this job so much more impossible to work.

She stops what she’s doing and stares at the asphalt. Gears are turning in her head as she goes over every scenario. Dean observes her for a moment. “Did you eat?” he asks out of nowhere. “Or have coffee?” “No,” she answers confused; what does that have to do with anything? “Then how the hell can you think properly?” he wonders. She shrugs, only just now realizing that her stomach sounds like there’s a war going on inside. She could certainly go with a good latte macchiato to jumpstart her brain, too. It’s no fun to admit, but Dean has a point. “You’re right. I’m off.” Zoë throws her right leg over her Harley and lands in the black leather saddle. She picks up her old biker jacket from the handlebar and puts it on. “Can I come?” The way Dean asks is like a little boy would, innocent and hopeful, adding ‘pretty please’ with his green eyes without actually pronouncing the words. She chuckles and shakes her head. “Sorry, Dean. I fly solo.” Her engine starts with a satisfying purr instead of the louder sputter it produced earlier. Content, she smiles and puts on her helmet. Dean, on the other hand, looks at her just like that same little boy, disappointed, even though he tries to hide it. Without another word, she turns the throttle and exits the parking lot. Just before she turns on the parallel road to the 52 highway, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk from ear to ear. “Thanks for lunch!” she shouts, overruling the sound of her Harley.

Puzzled Dean watches her drive off. Lunch? What lunch? He feels his pockets, knowing he’s missing something. When the identical roar seems to come closer again; he looks up. The Harley Davidson isn’t exactly coming back, but drives up the ramp going to the city. She heaves her hand victoriously, holding his wallet as she drives by. Dean’s eyes follow her, his jaw dropping to the ground. That dirty little thief! She just stole my wallet! He gapes at Zoë, as she and her Harley merge into busy traffic in the distance. How could she…? When did this…? Stunned, he scoffs. Un-fucking-believable. He, one of the best goddamn hunters in the world, just got pick-pocketed. While shaking his head he turns around and walks back to the lobby, muddling softly. “Son of a bitch.”

An hour later, Zoë slips her key in the lock of room 82 and walks in like she owns the world, a straw coming from her iced latte on-the-go firmly between her lips. “Finally!” Dean complains. He made himself comfortable on the bed with his shoes on the bedspread again, sitting up against the back wall reading a magazine Zoë doesn’t want to know the content of. Sam is behind his laptop, not surprisingly. The older of the brothers smiles happily when he sees the Taco Bell symbol on the paper bags she’s holding. It might have taken her a while to get back, but at least she brought the good stuff.

Without responding to his comment, she throws him back his wallet without Sam noticing, who is occupied by research. Dean catches it with his left hand and answers her victorious grin with an unintelligible mutter. She sets down a small tray with two more coffee containers. “I didn’t know how you guys like your coffee, so I brought you both an Americano,” she says. “Francis over there prefers a half-caf double vanilla latte,” Dean comments, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother, who on his turn glares at him and takes his coffee. As if Dean hasn’t eaten for days, he attacks the burrito, quickly tearing away the paper wrap and taking a big first bite. Zoë isn’t surprised by his manners. Sam, however, can’t help but stare at his brother for a moment and clears his throat, disapprovingly. His sibling doesn’t seem to be bothered at all and lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’. “This is good,” he comments with his mouth full. “Thanks, Zo,” Sam says, after which he also takes a bite of his lunch. “Don’t thank me,” she nods at Dean. “He’s the one who paid.” The younger brother frowns and looks over at Dean for an explanation. Dean and paying the bill? That’s new. He doesn’t need to observe him for long before Dean stops chewing and his facial expression goes blank. Uneasy, he looks away and swallows his bite. Zoë watches him, too, smirking like a cheshire cat. “She - uh,” he pauses, studying his taco for a moment. “She kinda… stole my wallet.” Sam almost chokes on his food and laughs out loud, the action earning a lethal glare. He then continues to look the huntress up and down. “That explains the new jacket.” Dazed, Dean looks up. New jacket? What new jacket? Then he spots the black leather Harley Davidson bomber jacket on Zoë, brand new by the looks of it. “You didn’t,” he reacts, shocked. She grins at him, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, I did.” He grinds his teeth, trying to keep calm. “How much was it?” “Not sure, actually. I didn’t bother to check the price tag when I slipped your card,” she returns, utterly satisfied. For a moment Dean just stares at her, his upper lip nervously twitching. What would that jacket be worth? 400, 500 bucks, maybe? “Oh, don’t be such a cheap jerk about it,” she comments, when she notices his expression, as if he has eaten something spicy yet disgusting. “You have at least a dozen more credit cards hidden in the trunk.” “How the hell would you know that?” Dean snarls at her.

As she takes a bite of her burrito, she looks up, digs deep down in her pocket and tosses him his car keys. While she casually continues with her lunch, Dean stares at the keys in his hand with his mouth agape, trying to figure out how the hell she got those as well. Sam has a hard time keeping a straight face, and who could blame him? There’s no finer entertainment than this: Dean is getting played. “You touched my fuckin’ car?” his brother hisses. “Obviously. I need to borrow this, by the way.” Zoë holds up a demon protection amulet. “Give that back, Zoë,” Sam demands, trying to be strict. “What else did you take?” “Some herbs, nothing expensive,” she admits, carelessly. “You fucking thief. What did you take, Sullivan?” It’s Dean who rises to his feet, holding his hand out to collect the stolen items. Reluctant, Zoë reveals a dried vine of Viburnum from her inner pocket. “Gardener over here -” Dean nods at Sam, “- went through a lot of trouble to get ahold of that dead plant you have there. I’d give it back if I were you.” “No. I need it,” she decides a matter of factly. Sam narrows his eyes at the huntress, trying to read her. Why would she need that herb? He stares at it, two dried out plants tied together with a double shoestring. It only works for one thing… “Not for yourself, I hope?” Sam asks, carefully. “A case I’m working on the side, actually. Can’t find the damn plants anywhere,” she clarifies. “Keep the damn twig, but I want the amulet back. Get your own supplies.” Dean ushers Zoë to hand the item over, which she does with a sigh. He snatching his coffee from the table and returns to the bed without thanking her. In fact, he’s not happy at all that she has been sniffing around in his car. The silence that follows is awkward, even for Zoë, and she decides to change the subject.

“I reckon you updated Sam while I was out?” Dean nods, taking a sip of caffeine. “In detail.” “Let me get this straight.” Sam, seated on one of the chairs by the table, leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The shapeshifter knows you’re a hunter.” “It does, but it didn’t know that at the time of the meeting. It knew one of the callers was out to kill him, but for all it cared, I could have been an FBI agent. The fucker shot me anyway,” she elaborates, finishing her drink and tossing it in the trash. Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What’s your point?” “Her point is that if we go to Beetles Bar, pretending to know nothing, it won’t take any risks. If the shifter shows instead of the real Terry Cliffer, it will try to kill us both,” Sam understands. “You guys are not going in,” Zoë makes clear right away, taking a mental note of the bar’s name that Sam just mentioned.

“So, what then? Lure him out and shoot the bastard?” Dean suggests. “Not until I’m sure it’s the shifter, not Terry,” Zoë replies, as she walks over to the fridge. Two confused faces follow her as she opens the door and looks inside. “You’re not making any sense at all,” Dean returns, puzzled, after which he apparently gives up on the conversation and props his feet up on the bed again. “You might actually have made an appointment with the real Cliffer guy, not with that chameleon. No one would be able to tell, unless you shine a flashlight in his face,” she explains, as she takes out three beers.

Sam looks back at Zoë, who beckons one of the bottles to him, but he rejects it. Dean takes both the beers without hesitation. “You’re serious? You haven’t even been up for two hours,“ Sam scolds at the older Winchester brother, astonished by the both of them. “It’s happy hour somewhere,” Zoë defends, puts the bottle against her mouth and takes a swig, earning a grin from Dean. “Want anything else, Sammy boy? Some juice, or milk perhaps?” she coos cheerily as if talking to a child. Dean snorts, almost choking on his beer, but when Sam shoots daggers at him, he quickly takes another sip.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he warns the huntress, continuing their discussion on the case. “So, there is a possibility that we might actually have a meeting with Terry Cliffer–-” “Okay, stop there for a second. Let me make something very clear: there is no ‘we’.” Zoë leans on the table, her knuckles resting on the surface. Her body language is strictly business all of a sudden; apparently she’s not very happy about Sam and Dean joining in on the case, especially not without her permission. Dean eyes her as he sits up. “You could use our help, Zo.” “Help?” She scoffs. “Thanks to the big ‘help’ you’ve been, I couldn’t finish the case last night!” “That happened, sorry about that. But as long as we’re here, we can offer a hand. Besides, we have an appointment with Cliffer,” Sam argues. “I don’t care. This is my hunt. I’m going to that appointment myself,” she clears up. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s a little past three. She still wants to dig up more information on her guy. The boys better get going. “No, you’re not. That’s our appointment,” Dean bounces back. “Seriously? You really wanna fight me on this?” she returns snappily, pushing herself from the table and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That appointment that you scheduled fucked up my entire case! I was here first and I’m gonna end it!” “Oh, come on. How old are you? Five? Haven’t learned how to share yet?” Dean chuckles with an attitude, adding fuel to the fire.

Before Zoë can counter him, Sam comes between the two hot-blooded hunters. “Knock it off, both of you. It will be easier to catch that shapeshifter with three hunters than with one, Zoë. Why don’t we go there together? You lay low and when we find the shapeshifter, we shoot it. We know he’ll probably be in the bar anyway, either as Terry Cliffer or someone else.” “No,” she decides without any consideration. “I’m gonna deal with this alone and I do not need your help.” “I can see that,” Dean comments, nodding at her abdomen, reminding her of the bullet wound that’s covered by her shirt. “Who’s fault is that again?” she snaps. “I’m gonna say it one more time: I fly solo. I don’t do teamwork, certainly not with you two. End of discussion.”

She takes one last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the table with a loud bang. “Who do you think you are, ordering us around like that with your ‘end of discussion’? Our dad?” Sam bites back, defensive for the first time today. She freezes at the comparison and turns her head. The boys can see the fury burning in her eyes, as if they just lit the fuse of a bomb that’s about to explode. His comment stirred something inside of her they should have left alone. “I am nothing like your father!” she hisses. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean questions, offended. “Exactly what it sounds like, Winchester,” she counters with a tone. “What did he ever do to you? He exorcised that evil son of a bitch that was wearing you to the prom, for fuck’s sake.” Dean gets up and steps towards her, clearly not too happy about the way she’s talking about his father.

Trying to not lose her cool, Zoë chuckles sarcastically, looks away, and places her hands on her waist. “You owe him,” Dean pushes, halting before her. “I do not owe him a fucking thing,” she snarls fiercely, staring him down. Their eyes battle, waiting for the other to look away, but both Dean and Zoë are determined not to be the first. Her anger towards John Winchester radiates from her; the brothers can both feel it. They struck a nerve, that’s for sure. “I want you out,” Zoë declares without even blinking. “And I’m serious.”

Dean's jaw tenses as he grids his teeth. “Fine.” With a sigh, Sam gets up from the bed and grabs his duffel, Dean already on his way out. The younger brother doesn’t feel like leaving her alone on this case, but Zoë clearly isn’t going to change her mind anytime soon. “If you need us-–” “- I won’t,” she immediately intervenes. “If you do, we’re going south.” He leaves a card on the bed. “Don’t bother, Sam. The stubborn bitch won’t call us anyway,” Dean responds, holding the door.

She ignores his words, annoyed by the slightest sting that his bitter voice leaves. In a quick glance, Zoë sees two phone numbers written down on the card, but she doesn’t intend to pick it up. Sam looks over his shoulder, but he isn’t angry with her. His eyes ask her to please reconsider, but all she returns is a cold gaze. The door closes behind them and the brothers walk down the hallway. “Unbelievable,” Dean scoffs. “What a fucking waste of time.” Their footsteps echo through the hall as they pass the front desk. Sam nods at the younger guy who took over for the day when they exit Motel 6, and enters the parking lot. The sun is still shining and shimmers on the cars passing by on the 52 highway, tires rush over the blacktop. Dean halts on the driver’s side of his Impala.

“Where to?” he asks, opening the door to get in. “We’re staying in town,” Sam decides before he sits down in the passenger seat. “What? No! We have better things to do, Sam,” Dean argues, still mad at the huntress. “I know we do, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam admits. Dean sighs. “Here we go again with that feminine intuition shit.” Sam rolls his eyes at him, but doesn’t respond to his words. He can’t understand why, but somehow he has the urge to look out for Zoë, almost like it’s instinct. Unnecessary, of course; she has been fine by herself for four years. Why should today be any different? “Let’s just go. You said something about a possible case in Iowa yesterday? If she can handle this, why bother to stick around if we can hunt something else?” Dean reminds him. “One night. We book a motel, check on her, and if she nails it, we leave. She doesn’t even have to know we’re there,” Sam suggests. “I thought you were determined to find Dad?” Dean looks aside at his brother, waiting for a response. “I still am, but we have no lead, not even a single clue where he is,” Sam points out. “Hey, that’s what I’ve been telling you, but it didn’t stop you from looking. You were the one who was all, ‘I gotta find Dad, it’s the only thing I can think of,’ Dean bounces back, imitating his voice. “And now you’re ditching him for some chick?” “I’m not ditching him for some chick!” Sam denies. “Ah, come on. You like her and you know it,” Dean carries on. “I do not like her, Dean! Jess just died, damnit!” he exclaims.

Dean looks away and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. He knows he went too far, so he keeps quiet and turns the ignition. When he flips the key, the V8 motor under the hood growls, impatiently waiting for Dean to back up and hit the road. “You said it yourself: Dad doesn’t want to be found. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing to spend the night here, unless you have some kind of lead I don’t know about,” Sam suggests. “Fine, whatever. As long as that motel has a bed. I really need to get some sleep.”

He puts his car in reverse and looks in the rearview mirror as he guides her out of the parking spot. The shift of his body causes him to grimace, pain cutting through his shoulder. “Feeling alright?” Sam checks. “Yeah, just tired. I need more painkillers, that’s all,” he mutters. Sam takes out his phone and calls a booking agency he had listed in his contacts earlier. As the call goes through, he sighs. It’s going to be a difficult task to find a room with that poker event in town. He waits for someone to pick up on the other side, meanwhile wondering why Zoë got so worked up about their father. Dean has a point; John saved her from that demon, so how could she possibly despise him? Something must have occurred; maybe she crossed paths with him later on and John did something to upset her. She wouldn’t be the first to cross blades with him, after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name @destielhoneybee @fookinghelljensensthighs @heartsaved @idksupernatural @laphirablack @magssteenkamp

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nodesiretogrowup · 5 years ago

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alright y’all, time for a Melissa play-by-play. I have a theory about this episode but it will get it’s own post:

And we dive right into spy time

That statue in the fountain was very upsetting :’)

GODDAMN U LAUNCHPAD, U SEXY BEAST

I like that LP says spiffy because I use the word spiffy

DEW-ble O Duck

“What I Dewey best” God I love Dewey and his love of puns

SONG TIME!!!

Ben is a really good singer

I like how the song was foreshadowing things to come

How is she wearing earrings?

A ham on cheese sandwich sounds really good rn

“I can’t remember when I’m hungry” A man after my own heart

YOU DIED

Ok, that game is WAAAAAY too advanced. It has the whole building mapped out and those glasses are WAAAY to small and lightweight to handle all that. Is it all through wi-fi? Am I overthinking the logic of a video game in a cartoon? Probably

“I had a sassy quip and everything.” He has the makings of a superhero in him

“It’s a little too real.” FORESHADOWING! Or the game was already REALLY immersive. OR BOTH

OH GOD LAUNCHPAD IS ALREADY FEELING BAD ABOUT HIMSELF!

“Haven’t you ever wanted to plug into a high-stakes, thrilling adventure?” He’s already done the spy-thing. Though it would have been cool to see Scrooge in a sexy suit

UNCLE MCDEE! I LOVE IT

Then an Uncle Scrooge from Webby. TOO CUTE!

There is A LOT of winking in this episode ;)

“We’re a team” DEWEY IS SO ADORABLE AND WHOLESOME!

Aw, Launchpad

I didn’t notice it the first time, but I love that Steelbeak is using one of those plastic swords to pick his teeth. It’s the little things

Is the theme song gonna be the short version for every episode this season?

I really dig Jason Mantzoukas’ take on Steelbeak. He’s just so cocky yet insecure at the same time. I like his voice cracking when he gets embarrassed or excited

And I ADORE how UTTERLY STUPID he is. I think he’s dumber than Launchpad because Launchpad is aware that he’s not exactly the smartest guy but Steelbeak GENUINELY thinks he’s smart. Plus he feels the joke. That’s just dumb and unfunny (in-universe at least. out of universe it’s great)

“The Sat-a-Lighthouse. Classic villain lair.” Well we know that’s gonna show up

Bradford’s neck bothers me. It makes my neck hurt looking at it

Intelli-ray. You guys are a bit on the beak nose when it comes to naming things

GADGET!

“Rat’s are dumb, right?” YOU STUPID BEAUTIFUL MAN

THE OTHER RANGERS! And Monterey already has his mustache

Ok how did her hair grow so fast? And did she shave her fur? How did she get a more human-esque figure? I NEED THIS INFORMATION

They Secret of Nimh’ed her!

Heron acts like an annoyed/done mom with Steelbeak and he acts like a snotty kid. It’s great

EVIL LAUGH

“Did that rat make that jumpsuit on a regular sewing machine, or did it build its own tiny sewing machine?” STEELBEAK ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS HERE

I legit thought she was about to pull off his beak

“I’ll go. Not because you told me.” He’s such a punk-ass kid, I LOVE IT

CHOMP CHOMP

DON’T EXPLAIN THE JOKE, BRO

“I pay for the privilege of doing someone else’s yard-work?” THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY, YOU RICH, PRIVILEGED MAN. Whack-a-Mole is actually about expressing all the rage and fury inside you

Video graphic adventures

SKEE BALL! I FUCKING LOVE SKEE BALL

That kid didn’t even take his tickets

Ticket-rich. I love it

LET’S STRETCH BITCHES

“Can’t let Dewey down. Gotta be smart, gotta win the game.” OH LAUNCHPAD, SWEETHEART

“Calm down, LP. It’s only a game.” Dewey is SUCH a GOOD friend!

“But don’t overthink it.” That’s just good life advice in general

I love how tiny Dewey is when compared to LP. It’s ADORABLE

“THEN WE GET PIZZA.” “Yes, pizza.” I don’t know why, but the way Ben delivers that line is hilarious to me

“Pad. Launchpad. McQuack. My name is Launchpad McQuack.” I love you so much

Ok, was there an actual dude there? How could’ve Steelbeak thrown a digital person?

“Yes, I do as well.” YOU DUMB HOE, I LOVE YOU

That card game was great. Truly a battle of wits. And Dewey just being like...what. Beautiful

“Well played.” “It was?”

“Look’s like you’ve been out-smart guyed.” The dialogue in this episode is top notch

I too do not understand smanzy card games

“But how about a game of 52 pickup...YOUR TEETH!”

“THE PAIN FEELS SO LIFELIKE!”

The sound Steelbeak makes when Dewey pulls on his...hair(?) is great

One day you’ll get to quip Dewey, one day

The cuts between the game reality and actual reality are so great

Is that the Phantom Blot or the normal Funzo? Is there even a normal Funzo?

The neck cracking also made my neck hurt

All the kids gathering around Scrooge is too cute

“Not now lass, I’m on a roll.” SKEE BALL IS A GATEWAY DRUG TO GAMBLING

“I think they just have nachos.” They have pizza too

Steelbeak pecking at Launchpad...brilliant

The little pug/bulldog kid is so cute

The scream when he’s hit with the pizza is gold

That ballpit is terrifying

Yet again Launchpad falls on someone

HE FUCKING PUNCHED A KID! WTF BRO?!

“WE MADE IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL!”

Those jumpsuits are pretty nice, ngl

“Nerp”

Launchpad had the right idea, he just fumbled on the execution

Rubix cubes-shorthand for intelligence levels

She is so done with him it’s great

“We can make Scrooge SO HUNGRY, he’ll EAT all the toys!” Solid logic

“Duh, that ain’t smart.” OO, BURN

Whenever anyone/anything grabs Steelbeak’s beak I feel like it’s gonna come off

THE THEME SONG PLAYS! I LOVE IT! IT’S GREAT

How did the others get smart? Where did THEIR clothes come from?! I NEED ANSWERS FRANK!!

Launchpad is always ready to lend a helping hand

HOW DID THE GLOVE FLOAT?! I HAVE SO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS!!!

“The answer was to build a tiny plane and teach a mouse to fly it?” “Yes, I figured that out.”

Is Gadget a rat or a mouse? She looked more mouse-like before she got smartified but Heron called her a rat. EVEN MORE UNANSWERED QUESTIONS! She’s probably a mouse though because that’s what she was in the original show

I don’t know why but I love when people call Launchpad LP. Maybe it’s because he has nicknames for everyone else so him having a nickname is cute

So Steelbeak was in prison in St. Canard. Perhaps he had a run in with a certain terror that flaps in the night? That would be hilarious if the two had met before but now Steelbeak is more focused on Launchpad. That would be a blow to DW’s ego

I kind of feel bad for Steelbeak. Sure he’s dumb but that was uncalled for. No wonder he snapped

“You bird-brained...” Aren’t you ALL bird-brains though? You are birds and you have brains therefore you have bird-brains. That almost feels like it could be a racist comment in this world

“I’M THE RICHEST DUCK IN THE ARCADE!” You were the richest duck in the arcade the moment you walked in

I love when Scrooge gets obsessed with something and loses his goddamn mind

WEBBY YOU CREATED A MONSTER!

“Ticket bin?” “YES!”

322 DAYS WITHOUT AN ACCIDENT. Good for them

Launchpad just LEEROY JENKENS’ed his way in

His hand is as big as Dewey’s HEAD

LP and Steelbeak have great fight dialogue. It reminds me of Megamind and Metro Man

LAUNCHPAD PUSHES DEWEY TO SAFETY! At that point he didn’t even KNOW what the ray did! But he heroically saved his best friend, not matter what would happen to him! WE STAN!

This episode cemented my headcanon that Chris Evans would be the perfect human LP

“I SHALL AVENGE YOU, MY FRIEND”

This scene, the climax, and the end of the episode gave me a theory, but it will have its own post

British accent=smart?

First thing he does is slick back the hair. Classy

“That cad, Steelbeak” We should call more people cads

How did LP fit into that much smaller man’s uniform? Are they extra stretchy? Because I can totally see that being something FOWL would do. It’s practical

“I don’t know what any of those words mean.” Same

“Heavens, you don’t want them to think you don’t know what you’re doing!” My constant struggle

The supersious guy is adorable

“Well, it’s certainly proving to be bad luck FOR YOU!”

KARATE CHOP ACTION

He still calls him Mr McDee. I just think that’s cute

Dear Dewford. Aww

“I won’t let him down again.” AAAAWWWWWWW

“Can’t go out there looking like this.” You can’t fight crime if you ain’t cute (or sexy in LP’s case)

LAUNCHPAD, YOU SEXY MOTHERFUCKER

That is an old-ass phone you got there, LP

Scrooge is 2 for 2 in missing important calls. Probably should turn his ringtone on

Webby is just so done

“Ah yes, you’d like that wouldn’t you, sonny.” God, Scrooge can get downright FERAL

Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it DW cameo. It looks like Drake’s DW. Does he have merch now? Does he get a cute of the sales? Who makes the merch?

WEBBY WILL FUCKING END YOU

Dewey is SO precious this episode. His cute little bounces

“I’m actually afraid and a little dehydrated, this game is AWESOME” GET THAT BOY SOME JUICE STAT

I love when shows realistically portray sound

“No time for a...crash course” YEEEEEAAAAAAAH

How’d he get a grappling hook?

“THAT’S MY PARTNER!” DEWEY LOVES LP SO MUCH!!

“How is he doing this?” The power of sexy? I don’t know either, bro

“There goes your pal LURCH-POUND! HA! You know, because he just got lurched into that POND OVER THERE?!” “That’s technically a bay.” “I’M NOT STUPID!”

“Classic villain lair!” I can appreciate a man who knows what he’s about

Why do villains alway jump INSTANTLY to the world? You gotta take baby steps. Start with a city, then a state, then the tri-state area a country, THEN the world. Gotta pace yourself

“And Uncle Scrooge only gives us like a nickel each week.” Do they do chores to earn that allowance? I mean, probably. Do Donald and Della have to do chores as well? Give them at least a dime, Scrooge!

MORE SEXY LAUNCHPAD! DAMN YOU, YOU BEAUTIFUL MAN!

“Waaaaiiiit a minute, is that my suit?!” “It suits me better.” DAMN STRAIGHT IT DOES! LP fills the jacket out

I like Steelbeak adding on his fingers

“Your fancy speak won’t work on me, Dummy-O-Duck. Ha-ha, classic.”

“That was totally my plan the whole time” Sweetie, just...no

“I guess you’re not as smart as *voice crack* ME.” “Not as smart as I.” NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR CORRECTING GRAMMAR!

THEY’RE BACK! AND THE THEME SONG! SO BEAUTIFUL!

Again, I thought Steelbeak’s beak was coming off

I like that Steelbeak went into pray position while being shocked

I’m gonna pretend the Rangers were off on their own adventure the whole time’

“Thanks for the...rescue.” AND GADGET SALUTES BACK AND WINKS! BEAUTIFUL!

“No person could survive being that stupid”

Launchpad, always willing to take one for the team

“There’s so much more I could accomplish! Stop the evil conspiracy out to get us! Solve world hunger! Land a plane!” No matter how smart he is, Launchpad still can’t stick the landing

“Launchpad, why are you overthinking this?” “Because I want to be good enough for you!” SOB

“Of course you’re good enough for me. You’re my best friend.” SOOOOOOOOOOB

“For Dewey, and Duckburg.” He put Dewey first, daaaaawwwww

HIM CATCHING DEWEY AND HOLDING HIM TIGHT TO HIS CHEST?! SO WHOLESOME!!

First thing LP does after things go back to normal? Fix his hair. Hair is very important to your state of mind, I guess

“Was it all a game?” Life is just a game

“Wait until I tell Huey I...YOU beat the game.” AAAAWWWWWW

“I’m not playing with anyone but you.” MY HEART!!!!

Scrooge is so broken. And the ticket to prize ratio, too true

“How much money did you spend to get those tickets?” Don’t play skee ball, kids. It will ruin your life

“I don’t think we should bring you here anymore.” Donald should probably be the one picking you up because Della would TOTALLY get hooked on a game/get too aggressive and I could see Beakley falling into the same trap

The comb just sticks there

The subtitles call him Suave-Pad, I LOVE IT!

“I like purple. A lot. Ha! Man, I’m glad I got that off my chest.” A DW reference or a CODEWORD?

“WARM THEM, YOU OLD FOOL! WAAAAARN THEEEEEM! Oh, dash it all, I’m going for a soak.”

“Restoring your ‘intelligence’ as it were.” BURN

She’s on a first-name basis with him...interesting

“OR ANY KINDS OF RAYS!” No mad sciencing here

“Who’s stupid now?” Gloating is very unbecoming

There are...certain people I wish I could force to shut up like that

His muffled screaming is great

Again, Rubix cube solving proves intelligence

How did he not notice it was wet when he picked it up?

I NEED THE SONG IN FULL SOMEWHERE TO DOWNLOAD

This one was super fun and emotional. I was not expecting this to be the episode that the Rescue Rangers would make their debut in but I’m glad they were here. Dewey and Launchpad’s friendship is so pure and adorable. I almost wish there hadn’t been a b-plot but it was fun. I know other people are upset over Steelbeak/the Rescue Rangers being different but I like them. This show is different from those shows. Steelbeak was repurposed into being Launchpad’s nemesis so he needed to match him. Plus we already have a bunch of smarties in FOWL. And this Steelbeak seems younger and less experienced so it would make sense that he’s not as clever. The Rangers didn’t really change that much from their show, just got a new origin that helps them fit into the world that has already been set up. I think this episode is going in the top 5.

#ducktales #darkwing duck #chip and dale rescue rangers #dt spoilers #huey got a much need break this episode

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alastairsqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Katy Keene Predictions

If the show gets picked up for a second season, I have some predictions/plots for the show.

I’ve seen some speculations that Pepper’s mother might be Gloria and her father Leo Lacy, that Gloria gave her up to avoid shame. I don’t think people realize the actress’s name is Julie Chan (her father is Chinese), therefore it’s likely at least one of her parents would be Asian. That means the likelihood that both Gloria and Leo Lacy are her parents is unlikely.

Since Pepper just came to terms with her who she is and her adopted father truly caring about her regardless of everything, I think it’s likely there might not be further exploration of her birth parents until later in a 2nd season. Pepper starts to become more comfortable with her life, and then BAM, someone shows up claiming to be one of her parents and tears her world apart. Now that she’s been arrested - and if she does that exclusive article for the paper - it could be that one of her parents realizes she might be their daughter via a newspaper article, especially if there are details about how she was adopted after being left inside a hotel.

Now, I have one other possible theory about her parents. We see her end her ties with Ms. Freesia, but what if Ms. Freesia seems upset because she’s actually Pepper’s mother? It could be why she taught Pepper all those cons and helped her out throughout the years, why she also seemed genuinely upset. Of course, that could be just because she has no potential partner now, but in some ways, it makes sense. If you’ve built your life on all these hustles, it seems likely you wouldn’t want to raise a child on your own, especially if you’ve grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle.

But yeah, I don’t think we will have anything right away with Pepper’s parents. I think she will take some time to grow into her own with her changed ways, and focus more on the Pepper Plant and being Josie’s new manager.

Speaking of long lost parents, next we have Katy. There was an exchange between Leo Lacy and Katy at the end of the episode, and the way he looked at her suggested he recognized her name. One of two options could happen here; either Leo Lacy is her father, or they play out a season-long plot where the two get to know one another only for her to find out he is not her father. Perhaps he just knew her mother and the two were exceptionally close. Maybe they even dated, and he did give her the sewing machine, but I think Leo Lacy being her father seems almost.........too obvious. With that said, if the two did date and he isn’t her father, it still provides an entry point for Katy to learn more about her mother.

As far as romance is concerned, I know K.O. is a huge part of the comics, but I feel like not many people liked the actor/character in the show, and so I don’t know if K.O. is going to come back, or they might take Katy’s love interests in a different direction. I feel like they intended for K.O. to eventually be endgame, but I’m not so sure. I’ve seen Zane Holtz in other shows, and I feel like there is definitely something off about him in Katy Keene. It’s like he’s just sort of......there.

With Errol now owning Lacy’s, that opens up opportunities for Katy and him again, even if he supposedly did marry Patricia. I honestly wouldn’t care for a back and forth between Katy and past love interests, but that’s just a personal opinion. I do think her story line with Guy is done for now, or he might pop up randomly at some point or another for them to have some closure. Even though she turned down his job offer and did the fashion show for all those designers he stole from, he did claim to love her, and obviously she didn’t feel the same. I’m not sure his sentiments were genuine, but I do feel like there wasn’t any closure on Katy’s end. Granted, her moving on without his help could be the show’s form of closure, but I feel like maybe there should be a little something more.

I think Katy will continue to work between Lacy’s and going to school at Parsons, but I have a feeling Parsons won’t be what she expected and she might end up dropping out. I feel like the show will have a hard time juggling all these different locations, especially adding on a school. A school means the potential for more cast members, and more cast members means time taken away from an already decently sized cast. Riverdale suffers from not enough character development at times, and I’d hate for Katy Keene to meet the same fate.

As for Josie, I hope she’s honestly done with the Cabots. I think watching that back and forth between those three was probably one of the least enjoyable aspects of the show. Am I the only one who thought the actress playing Xandra could not act? It’s like she tried to be a villain but fell short most of the time with her delivery. Like the plots were there, but she personally didn’t work for me. And I hate that the whole point of Josie coming to New York was to work on her music career, and then they attach her to Alex to hopefully jump start her career, but it kind of ruined it for me. It seems like almost every time Josie was on Riverdale, she was associated with some guy or her singing, and that was it. I feel like the one downfall of Katy Keene this season was how they still kind of missed the mark until later in the season with Josie. I hope that’s something they work on for season 2.

Personally, my hope is that in season 2, Josie moves on from Alex and when she does create new songs, she’s out on her own and the Cabots have no future control over her. The redemption they tried to pull with Xandra and her in the finale really didn’t work. “You can be part of my band.” You mean JOSIE’S band? I could have seen a middle ground being reached if Josie was properly credited for the song and earned some kind of residuals for her credits.

Josie and the Pussycats really need to shine in season 2, or bringing Josie over to Katy Keene was kind of pointless. Their band is exclusive to the Pepper Plant, yes, but I’d love to see them play in other locations.

As for Jorge, we saw both of his ex’s in the finale, one at the show in the park, and the other Jorge asked for help. I hope both of his ex’s are gone in the next season and he moves on and finds someone who treats him right. Bernardo wanted to try again and Jorge even said he needed to work on himself. I think the fact Bernardo was already running with Buzz right after they had been broken up for a day speaks volumes. Sure, he treated Jorge alright, but the threesome really messed them up. I don’t think either man is right for him. Jorge needs to be with someone who is already out but also doesn’t make him feel insecure about himself either.

I’d like to see Jorge trying out for more broadway too. I love Ginger, but I feel like the second half of the season took a step away from most of the broadway stuff aside from Kiss of the Spider Woman, which was technically put on by the Pepper Plant. Like we need to see him doing more auditions and pursuing that part of his life still.

And then there was the other shoe dropped at the end of the finale with Hiram Lodge showing up as the man who wanted to buy the building. Honestly, NO ONE asked for Hiram Lodge to be a potential villain in Katy Keene. I’m sure he’ll be around trying to make their lives a living hell. It also means Hiram isn’t dying or that whole plot is going to change in Riverdale. I think the biggest issue I have with this is Veronica and Katy being friends, and obviously Veronica would know where Katy lives, and yet Veronica didn’t give Katy a heads up? I guess that could be a hint that maybe Veronica gets out from under her father so she has no idea what he’s up to, but that is some pretty bad inconsistency, otherwise. Obviously Jorge’s family owns the building, but Jorge and Katy have been friends for years, so it’s likely Veronica would at least know about him too, unless they’re not intending Veronica and Katy to be THAT close of friends, even though they are technically cousins in the comics.

#spoilers #katy keene #jorge lopez #pepper smith #josie mccoy #hiram lodge

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