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musicarenagh · 8 months ago

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Dylan Wager Screams 'Lay It On Me' In Latest Single It's always thrilling to find an artist who skillfully incorporates the inspiration from the great musicians with their own style. Dylan Wager's recent single, "Lay It on Me," is a smooth soft rock song that is inspired by the songwriting of Michael McDonald, Steely Dan, and Thundercat. The chord progressions are creative, the guitars are soulful, the drums are laid-back, the bass line is funky and the synthesizers are vintage, all of which make this track pulsate with a nostalgic yet fresh energy. The harmony of the vocals stacked on top of each other is so beautiful that it tells a relatable story about the need for physical intimacy in the age of digital connections, and, thus, it prepares the stage for two more singles before the release of his full album in June. Folks who are into smooth grooves and soulful vocals, "Lay It on Me" is here to make your heart beat faster and your feet start to tap. From the punchy drum beats and dreamy guitar riffs to Wager's rich, velvety voice that croons with effortless romanticism, this song immediately turns the dance floor into a party. The bridge has a driving, contagious guitar solo that gives a feeling of excitement to the song's smooth and gentle vibe. Dylan Wager, being from a musical family, has shown with this single that he has the talent, charisma, and sound to make a significant impact on the music scene. With his sophomore album, "Soft Chain," which is going to be released this spring, there are many things to anticipate. In this exclusive interview, we will find out Wager's inspirations, his creative process, and the path to the creation of "Lay It on Me. " We will also talk about the artist behind the music and what the future holds for Dylan Wager. Listen to Lay It on Me https://open.spotify.com/track/2R6TAX1g2GXH7rY8MLIjei Follow Dylan Wager on Facebook Spotify Soundcloud Youtube Instagram Tiktok What is your stage name Dylan Wager. My last name is pronounced “Way-Grr”. It’s my real name. Where do you find inspiration? I find inspiration in a lot of different types of music I listen to. Most of the time, the overall texture of a song will inspire me. For example, recently I’ve really been enjoying the Low Fidelity textures of Mk.gee and MacDemarco. What I’m obsessed with is always changing though so if you ask me the same question next week, I might give you a different answer. I also find inspiration for lyrics in my personal life and observing my thoughts on the world. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? I remember the first time I really liked a song. I was probably 5 years old. I was in the car with my dad and we were listening to the radio. “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon came on and I remember asking my dad what song that was because I liked it so much. Soon after that I got an iPod for Christmas. It had a bunch of popular songs from the early 2000’s that my sister had loaded up on there. “Baby got back” was probably my favorite one on there. It was awesome. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Yes I am. My grandfather was in a surf rock band called The Chantays. He wrote the popular song “Pipeline” in 1963. My parents are musicians as well. My dad plays guitar and my mom sings. They still perform together to this day. My brother also composes and plays piano and drums. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? I always liked music growing up, but when I was 14, I watched John Mayer’s live album “Where the Light is”. The whole time while watching it, I was just thinking “yes. That is what I want to do. Write and record songs and play them for people.” And I’ve been chasing that dream ever since. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? I learned my first guitar chords when I was 12 from my Dad, who also plays guitar. We still talk about music theory and guitar knowledge and jam to this day. After that I kept learning more songs and exploring the guitar.

When I was in highschool I joined the jazz band and that helped to push me to learn more complex chords and it forced me to get better. I honestly learned how to write songs by just writing a lot of songs. The first songs I wrote were bad but it was just fun to write them. After writing a bunch you get the hang of things. [caption id="attachment_55453" align="alignnone" width="960"] I learned my first guitar chords when I was 12 from my Dad, who also plays guitar.[/caption] What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? My first concert was the Neon Trees. They are from my town of Murrieta and they performed at my highschool. How could you describe your music? I would describe it groove driven, very inspired by 70’s and 80’s, with everything from slow grooves to fast rock beats. Describe your creative process. For me, a song starts with having a single lyric come to me, I’ll write it down, and then and I’ll come back to it later and write lyrics around that idea. Same goes for a short chord progression or a melody that will come to me. I don’t write a whole song at once. Usually I’ll have a random musical phrase come to me, and then it’s a lot of hard work to write the rest of the song around that single small idea. My brother calls these small ideas “song seeds”. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? Yes. I feel like my music has evolved to become more like myself. As I’ve gotten better over the years, my art becomes a more accurate representation of me. Who do you see as your main competitor? No one. The only one I’m competing with is myself to get better. Everyone’s on their own journey. What are your interests outside of music? I like learning about lots of things, I like playing chess, yo-yoing, learning about quantum physics, space, skateboarding, and hanging out with my girlfriend are some things. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? I’d probably try to become and engineer of some sort. Maybe a train driver. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? The biggest problem is having constant motivation. Burnout is a real thing. sometimes I’ll try to keep pushing myself because I want to be satisfied with a song even when I’m burned out and need a break. Usually I just have to remember that I can come back to it later and it’ll be fine. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? I wish that so much of the music industry didn’t rely on how much money you had. It’s possible to work as hard as possible but realistically you’re going need to pay for something to get to the next level. I’m not sure what the solution to that is, but it’s just reality currently. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? My album coming out in June ‘24 is called “Soft Chain”. The name refers to the impossibly brief gap between the past and the future, and how we live right in the center of it. Each of these tiny events are like a chain of time linking everything together, even though we only ever have one single individual link. So the world is like a soft chain of events that we move along. https://open.spotify.com/artist/25RRwtWG8qZZN5FfQrK33J?si=A5pbmBsyQd-v5Mr8SyCRBw What are your plans for the coming months? I’m looking forward to performing these songs live and spreading my music! Do you have any artistic collaboration plans I already do collaborate. My best friend Asher Rowland, from San Diego based band Exotic Fruit Tour, plays bass on the Soft Chain album. He and I are always working on new music. I also had Aaron Sterling record drums for Soft Chain. He’s an amazing drummer who’s established in the music industry, so it was an absolute dream to be able to work with him on the album. What message would you like to give to your fans? I would like to say thank you and I love you guys! I appreciate everyone who listens to my music and enjoys it. This music was made for not only me but everyone who likes to listen too.

I hope to see and meet everyone at a show sometime soon.

#Interviews #DylanWager #DylanWagerdropsLayItonMe #DylanWagerLayItonMe #DylanWageroutwithLayItonMe #DylanWagerreleasesLayItonMe #DylanWagerwithLayItonMe #LayItonMe #LayItonMebyDylanWager #LayItonMeDylanWager #LayItonMefromDylanWager

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trans-luis-serra-navarro · 1 year ago

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IM FINALLY GETTING AROUND TO RESPONDING TO THIS RUUUUAAAARRRGGHHHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

THAT FIRST LINE YESYESYESYESYES YOU HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK W IT BUT YOURE SO UNBELIEVEBLY RIGHT!!!!!!!!! He has this suave ‘gay or European?’ chivalric persona he puts up around Leon and Ada to some extent but I imagine that’s probably a survival tool!!!!!!!!! He was an immigrant poc kid in a completely new world and his only reference for a heroic figure was Don Quixote, of COURSE he’s gonna embody that and continue to through the course of his life!!!!!!!! And that’s not to say it’s a COMPLETE facade- he IS genuinely friendly and a well meaning person!!!!! We all saw how gentle he was with Ashley and how considerate he is with Leon and Ada he SO GENUINELY CARES ABOUT THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM!!!!!!!!!! He’s holding up this suave persona for not just himself because it’s the one thing in life he can control but so others have a beacon of chivalric hope to cling onto too!!!!!!!!

@anininas and I were talking about this the other day too but I would K I L L to see what luis is like in private when nobody is watching him!!!!!!!!!! Does he STILL pretend to be a knight because that’s literally all he has in life he can control and cling onto????????? Or does the guilt overwhelm him so much he breaks down constantly???????? I WANNA ONOW CAPCOM IM SHAKING YOU (plus he SURELY KNEW he wasn’t gonna make it out of Valdelobos on SOME LEVEL so can you IMAGIME him mentally preparing himself and praying that he can do enough for the people around him??????? PLEASE CAPCOM PLEASE-)

YEYEYEYYEYEEYE I think it’s pretty implied to be canon with Los Illuminados at least that he had no choice but to work for them and watch his friends and family be tortured!!!!!!!!! He was probably blackmailed into being their scientist- I mean hell we SAW him get put in a prison and nearly get tortured!!!!!! And with Umbrella- I HIGHLY DOUBT a kid coming from the middle of nowhere would know abt umbrellas evildoings!!!!!! I can only imagine Luis probably wanted and GOT a place where he can feel welcomed, feel like he belongs, feel like he has a family- AND be making a name for himself and climbing out of that very narrow upbringing!!!!!!!!!!

AND ABBWGWENEHENUENEUDNSHDNSJSNSJDMSKS YOU SAID IT SO PERFECTLY IM SHAKING YOU SO VIOLENTLY!!!!!!!!!!! He cant control the past he can’t control the tragedy that follows him wherever he goes he can’t (in that moment) stop the cycle of pain and death and he can’t control the mistakes he’s made- but he CAN take control back of how people perceive him!!!!!! And I think it’s EXTRA DEVASTATING to imagine him being so scared to tell Leon about everything cuz Leon is the only person whose truly looked past that persona and loved I’m for who he is!!!!!!!

AGAIN!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHAKING YOU BITING YOUR HEAD OFF!!!!!!!!! YEAH PART PF IT IS A PERSONA HES BUILT BUT THATS NOT A BAD THING!!!! ALL HUMANS ATE THE SUM OF OUR PARTS!!!!!!!!!!! HE I S A GENUIENLY H CHIVALRIC AND KNIGHTLY PERSON HE D O E S CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM HE CARES ENOUGH TK CHANGE AND TO LOVE A STRANGER (wow that sounded catholic BDNEHENSHSN) BUT YOU GET THE IDEA

IGH YES. When he finally decides to break that cycle- when he finally decides to take control of his life and do something unabashedly GOOD- it costs him his life. Cuz like you said. What’s he got to loose? In his mind he’s practically unforgivable. The world isn’t gonna remember him and he’s gonna be buried underneath the grave of his grandfather.

But again. He has LEON.

Leon- the only guy whose ever seen past him and given him a second chance!!!!!! A chance to change and be loved!!!!!!!!!! He gave him the opportunity to go on his own quixotic adventure and he’s everything Luis wants to see himself as!!!!!!!!! Leon, Ashley and Ada are, to him, his last chance to make it up to SOMEBODY and show that HE CAN CHANGE HE I S WORTHY OF LOVE- he’d be DAMNED if Leon died while he was still alive!!!!!

AND WUAGH DONT MAKE ME THINK AGOUT THE FACT THAT HELL NEVER KNOW IF ASHLEY AND LEON AND ADA EVER DID MAKE IT OUT OF VALDELOBOS PR IF THEY DIED LIKE HIM TOO DONT MAKE ME THINK ABT THR FACT THAT THE LAST THING HE ASKED IS IF PEOPLE CAN CHANGE CUZ HE WANTS ONE LAST CONFORMATIOM ARGH-

ALSO???? The fact that he’s probably under the impression that HES the reason Krauser was lured to Leon????????? THATS SO AHSBWHENEHENEJDDHENEJSNSNSN

Also kinda on topic with this whole discussion of his persona. It’s SO FUNNY to me that he goes out of the way and makes an effort to say ‘such a loss to the ladies of he world, eh?’ Cuz like. Goddamnit you beautiful idiot. Trying to make a humorous joke with your dying breath so the man you love doesn’t worry about you?????? Trying to hold onto SOME semblance of normality????????? I’m cursing you forever and ever

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM STAB ME IN THE BACK WHILE YOURE AT IT. HES LITERALLY BLEEDING OUT AND ACTUBELY DYING BUT HE STILL MAKES THAT SHOT. HE STILL MAKES THAT SHOT CUZ HES SO DESPERATE AND DETERMINED TO SHOW HE CAN CHANGE. TO SHOW HES WORTHY OF BEING LOVED. HE WPULD DO ANUTHING TO EVEN GET A GLIMMER OF THAT OPPORTUNITY AND HED FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL FOR IT CUZ LIKE YOU SAID HES LEAD A PRETTY SHITTY LIFE

M M M M M M M M

IMAGINING LUIS BURNING HIMSELD OVER AND OVER AGAIN LEARNING HOW TO HANDLE SOMETJIMG THATLL SLOWLY DESTROY HIM????? TO THE POINT WHERE IT BECOMES AS EASY AS BREATHING??????????? HEY HEY DANTE WHAT IF I STRANGLED YOOOOOUUUUU-

I obviously have never smoked but ARGH YOUR WORDS ARE SO RIGHT THEYRE SO PERFECT YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY????? ‘It probably gives him solace to have some control over the poison’ IM DUNKING YOU IN A VAT OF ACID. HE KNOWS THEYLL KILL HIM BUT LIKE,,;, IN HIS MIND WOULD THAT REALLY BE A BAD THING?????? MAYBE HE FEELS LIKE HE DESERVES THE ONLY THING THAT BRINGS HIM COMFORT TO SIMUTANIOUSLY BE SLOWLY KILLOMG HIM!!!!

AND ARGH! ARGH!!!!!! It’s a habit!!!!!!!!! It’s a vice!!!!!!!!!!!! Just like the rest of his life!!!!!!!! He keeps going back to it cuz that’s all he knows!!!!!!!!! He keeps running cuz that’s the best thing he knows how to do!!!!!! He goes back home cuz that’s what’s familiar to him!!!!!! And like you said BREAKING A CYCLE IS SO MUCH EASIER SAID THAN DONE!!!!!!!! AND ITS EXTRA DEVASTATING THAT THE CYCLE HE D O E S BREAK ENDS IN HIM DYING LIKE AHWNWHWNEHWNWJWNEJNDSJSNSJSNJSNSJWNSJSMSJSNEJENSJS AND HELL NEVER KNOW IF YHR PROPLE HE DIED FOR EVEN LEFT THE ISLAND

AGAIN.

LIKE YOU SAID.

THE FACT THAT HE CABT EVEN MUSTER UP THE ENERGY TO LIGHT HIS LIGHTER

A R G H -

Also I think it’s SO POIGNANT that the last thing he does is smoke before he dies. I recon there’s a million and one different ways to look at it but for the sake of this post it’s like. His mistakes will always catch up to him. He just needed a little bit more time- just one more day- one more week- to change and to break that cycle but it was too late. He’ll always find comfort in something he shouldn’t until he meets Leon- who lets him indulge in his cigarettes and quixotic fantasies one last time. Who assured to him that yeah. He has changed.

i am so sleepy right now but i was thinking abt Luis.

And yknow. every once in a while i think about this in horknee context bc this lil skill is just wildly attractive but also i think about how, when Luis spins that lighter so effortlessly, he never once drops it. and the movement is fluid, skilled and he just does it without second thought. Like its long practiced and its been a part of his life for a while. And its something i feel like he started learning to try and look cool.

But he couldnt even flick it open or so much as hold onto it during his final moments. How awful and pathetic must one feel in their final moments as they feel these small things slip away. Something that was once second nature and easy, done like a sort of unconscious stim, becomes impossible as you feel yourself slip away. The lighter tricks wouldve been a skill he'd have put time in to learn, and as small as it is it just shows how rapidly he declined and i cant imagine how deeply devastating that would feel as all that time slips away into something that never mattered as your efforts to be somebody, be who you wanted to be, also slip away. Also goes to show how much he really mustered EVERYTHING he had to save Leon with that gunshot. And

yeah that prolly didnt make sense

I'll prolly have more to say when i can hold a coherent thought but i am so tired

#luisposting #othersposts #reblog

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szagaloree · 2 years ago

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I’m comin home

M’baku quite a short story!

⚠️warning⚠️

Spoiler alert! Contains scenes form wakanda forever!!!!

^inspiration music^

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I am tired! I am DRAINED! I just gave birth to our son, M’balu just three hours ago, m’baku was in his new throne room that’s in the cave helping with the wakanda s to evacuate to jabariland due to a flooding and I was told someone was coming to start a war. I really wished m’baku was here with me, he almost missed the birth of our son due to the fact he was in the city helping, he came soaked and his chest piece was broken nearly scaring the hell out of me while giving birth trying to figure out what has happened to my husband. I stare down at my son as he slept, i couldn’t get any sleep due to me taking care of him and my birth, I decided to get up and get fully dressed, I dressed my son fully putting the hood over his head as I limp a little to the cave.

“And so what?! We have the resources to take him down!” Shuri argued.

M’baku sighed, as shuri looked at me wide eyed “you..have a.. baby?” She asks m’baku snaps his head back and his go wide “my love what are you doing out here?! Should be in bed resting,” he rushes to me “I couldn’t get any sleep and I want to know what’s going on and why my husband’s chest piece was broken like somebody broke it? I still want to know that,” I question staring at him, he sighed taking m’balu out of my arms “there’s been an attack in wakanda, a man name namor is coming to destroy the land world, to start a war, he killed my motha! And now her blood is on his hands,” she said, “this man.. namor? Why does he sound familiar, my grandfather would tell me stories of the water people, they.. they are nothing to mess with shuri, are you sure this is something you want to do?” I ask, she nodded firmly, the revenge and anger, the pain and grief I see in her eyes told me she was not going to let up, I walk forward placing my hands on her “if you’re going to go to war with this man, you better give him all you got, you may have lost t’challa but the black Panther.. still lives, let him know wakanda is nothing to go war against nor to mess with,” I said she nodded, “and please.. bring my husband home,” I said, “I will, I promise,” she says.

M’baku took me to our room, “my love, I.. I don’t have to join this war, I cannot leave you here stressed that I might not make it back home,” he says I shake my head “do your duty, as the great gorilla of jabari,” I said, he looks down at his splittin image of him, he grabbed his tiny hand as the baby started to stir while wrapping his tiny fingers over his father’s finger, “just come back home,” I place my hand on his arm, he nodded pulling me into an embrace. The next morning it was time for him to go, I was scared. The jabari warriors started to leave and m’baku was as well, he turns around and walks forward to me, I was crying and m’baku hated that, he hugs me tightly “I’m coming back, my love it’s okay,” he wipes my tears i sniffled “please” I pleaded “I love you,” he said, “I love you too,” we kissed before he leaves, after that I couldn’t but cry even more watching him leave.

This whole day I was sobbing in worry, I’m fearing for my husband’s life fighting some gosh man from the sea! I breastfed m’balu while sobbing, I try to calm myself because m’balu can feel my heart which is making him fussy, I rock back and forth gently “it’s okay, daddy’s coming home soon I know, I’m just scared.. you’re daddy is a strong warrior,” I said, I burped him afterwards and laid him down to rest, I sniffled.

“Lady una? The gardeners requested for you,” the jabari men spoke, “okay I’m coming,” I said I carefully put m’balu in my wrap to hold him on my chest. Once I reached the garden I notice all the blooms of the different flowers all over, it even grew on the arch’s. “It’s beautiful,” I said, “do we need to grow more or is this enough lady una?” She asks, “it’s fine, y’all did a good job,” I said they nod their heads, “lady una, you must come now!” The jabari warrior runs in, my eyes go wide “what’s wrong?” I ask, “I can’t tell you, but you must come see,” he says I follow him, but it was outside the jabari cave, the men came back, my eyes go wide “the war is over?” I ask “yes it is,” he says, where’s m’baku?! Where’s my husband?!! I spotted shuri and ran to her “shuri, w-where’s my husband? Where is he? Did he not come back?” I panicked she turns around, I look up and m’baku walked up the mountain “m’baku!” I yelled he looks up I bawled out crying as i hugged him hard, “I told you I was coming home,” he said, “you had me scared, please don’t do this to me again!” I slap his chest he smiled softly “I won’t my love,” he pecks my lips.

“I know my kingdom awaits and they forgiven my mistakes, I’m comin home I’m comin home tell the world I’m comin…. Home”

#Spotify #m’baku #oneshot #m’baku love story #mbaku x reader #wakandagifs #wakanda forever #king of wakanda #jabari #m’baku imcominhomeoneshot

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digital-dhampirs · 3 years ago

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VnC chapter 55: a live reaction

I want to jump straight into an analysis but I am losing it just a little bit and I find screaming out assorted thoughts very helpful for that sO here we go. contains massive spoilers!

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher

the horror is s o go od mochijun is so good at communicating how feckin scary this guy

no wonder all the vampires are scared of him Jesus Christ

“in this form”? teacher you’re making your status as murr way too obvious

teacher refuses to call Vanitas “Vanitas”. is it because he knows his real name? or is it because Vanitas stole that name from somebody else?

I’m glad I was correct about seeing more of Jeanne in the upcoming chapters— she’s the only character who isn’t insanely mentally and emotionally compromised at the moment so she’s able to act as a voice/ observer for the audience in a way Noé can’t at the moment [even if it does make me kinda wonder if she’s helping him with the case study in the Real Present]

Comte….. is that his name??? dO WE HAVE A NAME REVEAL TO GO WITH THE FACE REVEAL?!

Noé’s fully blank expression when he asks Teacher if he’s the one who saved Mikhail is v E r Y sus

oh god I like Perspective Character Jeanne but I really want to get in Noé’s head right now

THE LEVEL OF HORROR IN THIS CHAPTER IS JUST FANTASTIC

legit I cannot wait to purchase volume 10 whenever it comes out just to have this chapter physically

what just happened to his blue eye— did it change color????? did he just switch his forms a bit????? oh my god this is horrifying I love it so much

the Comte de saint Germain…. I’ll have to look that one up, but it sounds like a title. “grandfather”, “teacher”, “the comte”… are all his names titles?

oH WHOA HE REALLY DOES GET PISSED OFF WHEN PEOPLE GET HIS NAME WRONG

and he carries Mikhail away for reprogramming fixing him up purposes?? smacks head on table i knew it would be way too easy if Mikhail just showed up this one time

this implies that the teacher can somehow reverse the book “eating” Mikhail????

NOÉ’S F A C E

new question is “Blue” a nickname Luna once went by or is comte referring to somebody (or something) else

cuz if he’s talking about Luna he is 100% correct yes they are the most beautiful creature in this world we love Luna and so??? does??? he??????

there is so much mixed emotion in Vanitas and Noé’s expressions this chapter and it it it it makes me feel emotions

teacher does not hesitate to yeet noé away and if he really is murr uhhhh that’s pretty… I Don’t Like That, I don’t like that at all

annnnnd they’re out. oh my god oh by the blessed blue moon I cannot wait another month (possibly more) for the next chapter I’m losing my mind this is the im

#vanitas no carte #vnc #vnc spoilers #vnc 55 #the case study of vanitas

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years ago

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recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Hayloft (p.2)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Abuse, drunkenness, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead, decapitating a chicken, reader is kind of emotional in this chapter

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

Part 1

_____________________

Work had passed fairly quickly as it always did when you had the opening shift. It sure sucked having to arrive at five o’clock in the morning but at least you got off earlier and you knew that that way you could grab groceries before your father got home and could yell at you about an empty kitchen again. By two o’clock in the afternoon, you were home again, hopping out of your truck and grabbing as many bags as you could in one go.

The loud sound of metal slamming against metal shook you and you flinched, looking between your door and the frame to see Arvin walking out towards you. It hadn’t occurred to you that his car was even in your driveway. After so many years of having busted broken down old cars sitting there that your dad had been swearing he’d fix for almost ten years, cars in the driveway seemed normal. “Let me give you a hand,” he offered as he got closer, lifting the canvas bags from your hands before you could object.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you felt the weight suddenly taken off your own arms, “Thank you.” You dove back into the truck to grab the last two bags before slamming it shut with your hips. The two of you began your stroll towards the front door, the dirt driveway kicking up around your feet. “You’re back early.” You noted, looking over at Arvin.

He shrugged, “Yeah, uh, Wallace had me on the early shift today.”

You fumbled with the bags as you tried to unlock the door, kicking it open with your toes when it finally gave in. You walked into your home and Arvin followed, closing the door behind him. “Been here long? I didn’t see you in the driveway.”

“Not too long. I just didn’t want to let myself into your home without nobody there.” Arvin set the bags on the counter next to where you set yours.

You began to unpack the bags and put the groceries in the respective places. Arvin watched off to the side, unsure of how your kitchen was organized so he was worried he’d do more than good if he stepped in. “My daddy got the late shift?”

Arvin shook his head, noticing that his beat up old hat was still on his head despite being indoors and took it off immediately, his tousled brown curls parting messily down the middle. “No, we went in at the same time. He ‘n some buddies said they was goin’ to some bar in town.”

He watched your shoulders fall a little and you sighed, “Figures…. You didn’t go?”

Again, Arvin shook his head, “No. No offense to your daddy but I don’t like to drink the way I get the feelin’ he does.”

You snorted, turning to him with a knowing chuckle, “Let’s just say that I’m sorry in advance for whatever he says or does when he gets home, if he gets home. Sheriff Pike might end up callin’ in the mornin’ tellin’ us to pick him up.” Though it was stated as a joke, Arvin could hear the tragic reality behind your words.

Arvin then noticed the pack of beer bottles that you were pulling out of the bag. As if you could feel his eyes looking at you with worried curiosity, you glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes flicked between you and the beer in your hands. You offered a sad shrug, “I know what you’re thinkin’ but trust me. Sometimes it’s better to have him drunk and possibly content than sober and angry there’s nothing to drink. Besides, the beer is better than the hard stuff with ‘im.”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be makin’ faces. Your business is your business,” Arvin backpedalled, giving you an apologetic nod.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry. I know how it looks. I’m sorry you gotta see all of it. I been tryin’ to keep to keep him calm but if you end up stayin’ a while, I’m sure you’ll get to see him at his worse times.”

Arvin chewed his lip as he contemplated whether or not to bring up what had been going through his mind but he had to make sure you were alright. “I-I heard you ‘n your dad talkin’ last night… right after you left my room.”

Your face fell as you realized what he was talking about, “You weren’t s’posed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Shit, this was what you were hoping to avoid.

“Are you alright?”

Gentle. Caring. His tone was something that had been long lost to you in this house and it took the words out of your mouth for a moment. It was embarrassing, the way your heart welled up with… well love wasn’t quite the right word but the warmth of being cared about. Not since after your mother had passed had you heard somebody actually care about how you felt.

You just nodded and gave a forced smile that you could tell was easy to see through but it was the best you could muster. For someone who was able to take so much shit from their father and was able to look the man who would throw things at you and grab you by the hair dead in the eye with nothing but contempt, it was compassion that made you crumble. It had been so unexpected, especially from Arvin, the stranger living in your house.

“Shit, ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t mean to overstep. I only…” He stammered over his words and at first you were confused until you felt the single hot tear tracing its way down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shocked at your own uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. You hadn’t realized until now that you had zoned out on the ground while Arvin’s words repeated in your head but now a flash of embarrassment ran through you. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sniffled once before giving a small laugh of disbelief. “It’s just… It’s been a long time since anybody asked that.”

You straightened up and ran your hands through your hair, eyes closed as you thought of what else you needed to do. Thankfully, if your dad was at the bar, you had at least another four hours to just you and Arvin, all night if you were lucky, though you seldom were. That was when the feeling of dread set in. Your dad had requested chicken roast for dinner tonight and whether he came home early and only a few beers in or you had to drive him home hungover in the morning, the man would be furious if there weren’t at least reheated leftovers for him. You had to kill Patty and prep her for dinner.

“You okay?” Arvin asked again, though this time it was in reference to the way a heavy look fell over your features. It wasn’t a profound deep question like it was earlier.

Your head wavered from side to side and your lips twisted, “My daddy asked for chicken roast tonight. I gotta go out and fix Patty up.” You tried to put it lightly though it felt anything but. “I’ll be out in the coop. You’re more than welcome to clean up in the shower or do whatever you’d like ‘round the house. The radio is in the livin’ room if you wanna tune into somethin’.”

You pushed yourself off the counter and walked to the door in your kitchen that led out to the backyard but Arvin made a few steps to follow, “Is it alright if I keep you company? It don’t feel right bein’ in your house without you or your daddy here.”

You smiled at the thought of him staying with you and you nodded, continuing out the door, “Sure, c’mon.”

The hen house wasn’t very far from the back door. From there, you could see the several acres of land that your father was wasting. Your grandparents had bought this land in the late 1910’s and had started up a little farm of their own to sell locally, though your father had abandoned the farming portion after they died. It was where your daddy had grown up and then where you had as well. God, how you missed your grandparents. Your grandmother’s soft words of love and kindness but sternness and willingness to swat your butt with a wooden spoon if you got an attitude (though she would yell at your father if he ever tried to discipline you - “Now you leave that poor baby alone!”). Your grandfather had looked like a rough and angry old man from years of hard work but he had the softest heart of anyone you’d ever met. How the two of them had raised your father was beyond you.

When you approached the wired fence and jiggled the lock open, the chickens inside stood surprisingly still. They trusted you. You could see it in their little brown eyes. You were safe and warm and didn’t want to harm them. You came in for the unfertilized eggs they laid and left, oftentimes with some seed and a soft pat or two on the head. Patty, a fat white hen with black specks, walked comfortably around your feet, nuzzling her head against your leg. She was the nicest hen you’d ever had. She trusted you.

God, you were about to cry again. You bent down to pick her up and you held her against your chest, trying to look her in the eye, though it was difficult when she kept jerking it in different directions. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” you murmured low. Usually it was your father that would slaughter the hens if he really wanted the meat that badly. You had never done it yourself but he’d made you watch every time so that you knew how if the time ever came. Each time it made you sick to your stomach.

Already, you felt green. The unassuming hen that you had been friendly enough to for her not flip out when you held her was none the wiser that her life was about to end by your hand. You glanced over to the large wood round just ahead and the axe that was leaned up against it.

Your face contorted as you realized how much you disliked the placement. The way your father would slaughter chickens right in front of their friends made your heart break. It was barbaric.

You walked over to Arvin and held Patty out towards him, “Would you mind holdin’ onto her for a second?”

Though visibly confused, he took the chicken from your hands, drawing back when her wings fluttered out at the contact with the new strange man. Arvin watched as you walked towards the large round and tried to push it with all your might. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m-” you grunted, feeling it slide slowly, inch by inch, “trying to move it where the other chickens can’t see.” You took another moment to use all your force against it before standing up straight and breathing heavily, “I know it sounds dumb cause they’re only chickens but it feels cruel to make ‘em watch, y’know?” You went back to pushing the round and Arvin approached behind you.

From here he could see the blood stains in the wood. It looked as if the blood had been washed off but the wood had been stained crimson regardless. There was also a divot where an axe had clearly been driven down many times over the years, chipping away at the wood.

Arvin’s heart actually warmed a little at your attempt to show mercy and your willingness to go out of your way to spare some chickens’ feelings. It wasn’t something he was sure he’d do himself but when he heard you say it, he realized you had a point. It was cruel to imprison a bunch of animals and then lead them out one by one to be slaughtered in front of everyone, each animal waiting their turn. “Here, take ‘er back. Let me.” Arvin stepped in, handing Patty back over to you and bending down to lift the round onto its side with much effort. The wood had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and had long since settled into the ground where it had been placed when you were a child.

Your eyes widened as you watched his biceps bulge, straining the material of his blue t-shirt. You’d never seen a man with muscles like that before and you found your eyes trailing along his arms, following every popping vein from the tops of his hands, up his forearms, and onto his biceps until they disappeared beneath his shirt. It was something you hadn’t expected to see in him. Arvin looked like a quiet, polite, hardworking young man but you never would have imagined the immaculate muscles he possessed. You found your mind wandering to what other surprises laid in store beneath all those layers he wo-

You needed to calm yourself down. If only he could hear your thoughts, he surely would be furious and disgusted with you. You hadn’t had such impure thoughts since that one time you had been messing around with Jimmy Bates in the backseat of his old car back in your senior year of high school. The two of you didn’t even go all the way but you went far enough and the guilt ate you alive since the two of you were never officially together anyways. He was just the cute boy from high school that you had pined over years that had finally given you the chance right before he shipped off to join the war.

“This alright?” Arvin asked, shaking you from your fantasy, and you snapped back into reality to realize he had rolled the wood round around the side of the coop behind the wooden wall, outside of the other chickens’ views.

You nodded and walked over to him, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much for doin’ that. I know it’s sorta stupid.”

Arvin shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, “If it means somethin’ to you, it ain’t stupid at all. Besides, now that you pointed it out, it was a little barbaric.”

You smiled up at him, one which he returned. How was this boy so damn nice? Was this some cosmic way of the universe finally giving you something good in your life? You’d become so calloused to your father’s harsh words and barked commands that you had forgotten how nice it was to feel cared about and validated. And you barely knew him.

“‘M glad you think so.” You looked down at Patty in your arms and any good feelings you’d had melted to sadness and fear. “You been a good girl, Patty. I know you struggled with layin’ eggs for a while but you were always a good girl. Never bit me once unlike some of them other hens.” You weren’t often very soft and vulnerable but you were about to take something’s life for the first time and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that on your heart. If this were a life or death situation, you would feel better about it, but it wasn’t. The only reason Patty had to die was because your father would throw a fit if she didn’t.

You carried her to the log and gave her a little kiss on the top of the head, “Please don’t hate me but I understand if you do. Say hi to my momma for me, will you? Tell her I love and miss her.” You set her down and got her in the position you always saw your dad put the other chickens in before he chopped their heads off. Arvin handed you the axe with uncertainty but watched on as you struggled to bring yourself to finish the deed.

You held her down and you could tell by the way she was flailing that she was panicking now. Patty was well aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry!” You choked, tears welling up in your eyes as her panic began to turn into your own panic. How did people do this? Why was this so freaking difficult?

Tossing the axe slightly in your hand, you readjusted the handle and just as you went to swing, Arvin piped up, “I can do it.”

You looked over at him, the afternoon sun reflecting the tears in your eyes and making the color of your irises stand out in tragic beauty. “I-I- Would you really not mind?” You breathed out in relief.

Arvin stepped forward and you handed the axe out to him, “I don’t mind.” You held onto Patty until Arvin could position her just right as well. He had no idea what he was doing - he’d never had to slaughter a chicken before. He had heard that all you had to do was cut their head off though and then he’d heard the rumors of them running around like crazy even after their head hit the ground. How hard could it be?

Once he had the hen pinned down where he wanted her, he looked up to see you chewing on your thumb, brows knitted in discomfort. It wasn’t the first chicken you’d watched get slaughtered but it was far from something you enjoyed observing. Arvin signaled to you with a nod before raising the axe above his head and you shut your eyes tight, flinching at the sound of the old metal head thudding into the old wood.

You had the carcass sitting in the sink while you pulled off the blood soaked feathers, depositing them into the trash bin by the handful. This part was easier for you, something you’d done many times in the past. “Thank you for doin’ that. I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

Arvin sat at the kitchen table behind you, “You ain’t a baby just cause you don’t like to kill things. I’d say it’s probably rather normal.”

The time was inching closer to four o’clock now and the sun was beginning to hang ever so slightly lower in the sky, the precursor to sunset. It was warm outside and a cool spring breeze blew in through the open window above the sink. You snickered as you pulled another handful of feathers out, “Yeah? That mean you ain’t normal?” You looked over at him with a playful glint in your eye but your smile fell when you saw an uncomfortable look cross his face, almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“I ain’t never said I liked killin’ either.” Arvin attempted to match your joking tone but it was pretty evident there was a weight behind his words.

“Hey, I‘m sorry. I was only jokin’.” A pang of guilt washed over you but it was only that. A joke. You hadn’t imagined teasing him over something like killing a chicken would set him off, especially since he volunteered to do it for you, but apparently you were wrong.

Arvin sniffed and scratched his nose, “I know.” After a moment of awkward silence, he stood, “Let me give you a hand. What do you need done?”

You scanned his face once more to make sure he was really okay but you decided to drop it when you saw his insistent look. You shook your head, “I got it. It ain’t much after I get this all gutted and cleaned.” You picked up the mostly featherless carcass by the wings and plopped it back down into the sink.

“Well ‘m sure there’s vegetables or somethin’ else that goes with it, right? Let me start cuttin’ those up.” His persistence was adorable, making your heart flutter in the most wonderful way. The idea of a man actually being helpful was unknown to you before Arvin. Your life had been filled with your dad’s drunken bossings since you were twelve years old. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuinely kind voice offered you anything more than a smile on the street, not that you took that for granted. Arvin was just different though. Noble and helpful and kind.

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that but I really do want to help. So what can I do to make things easier on you?” He took a few steps closer to you until you felt the beginning of what could have been sparks if he stepped any nearer, like when you hold two magnets a few inches apart and you can feel the energy between them, that hint of attraction, but it’s not quite close enough to pull them together.

The blush in your cheeks at his simple gesture made you break the eye contact with a nervous laugh of retreat, “Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be so insistent,” you drew out with a teasing drawl, “you can cut up veggies. There’s potatoes over there and carrots and zucchini in the fridge.”

Arvin’s lips turned up in a small smile when you finally resigned your stubborn ways and he went off to find the vegetables where you had directed him.

Needless to say, when your father came home from the bar to find you and Arvin talking over a song by the Platters playing on the radio with Arvin cleaning up the dishes while you tossed together the vegetables and the seasoning, he was less than pleased.

“What the hell is going on here?” His slurred speech made your eyes widen in fear. He was supposed to get home later like he always did. But then you found yourself chiding your irresponsibility. Why the hell would you take that chance? You knew better than to let Arvin help out and now you were gonna pay.

Arvin sensed the way you tensed up beside him and watched as you spun around to face your father with haste, “Just finishin’ up dinner now. Should be ready by six so you got more than enough time to take a sho-”

“Why the fuck is he doin’ the dishes?” You father was leaning against the wall, clearly relying on the structure for support. This wasn’t the time to test him, not with Arvin here. It was times like this when he’d start throwing stuff at you.

Before you could say anything, Arvin piped up firmly but respectfully, “I offered, sir. It’s no problem at all.”

Your dad pointed at Arvin, “A man ain’t got no place with his hands in a sink of dishes. You leave that shit to her and she’ll just grab you a beer.” He stumbled over his own feet before catching himself ungracefully.

Arvin’s jaw set tightly and you gripped the countertop with white knuckles behind you. Times like this, you weren’t even sure what to say anymore. No amount of standing up for yourself got you anywhere with him. You never made any headway with your dad’s sexist views on gender roles. It was pointless. The only thing to do was try and work your way to supporting yourself so you could get the hell out of dodge and never look back.

Arvin’s voice surprised you, “A man’s place is helpin’ out the women in his life when they need, not leavin’ ‘em to do all the housework themselves.” You nearly choked on your own tongue at his words. It was a bold statement for a man to make, especially to the head of the house that was being so gracious as to host him free of charge, but he didn’t back down. It appeared like the jab was lost on your drunken father but Arvin continued with a slightly less accusatory comment to diffuse the situation regardless, “I grew up helpin’ my grandma with all the house chores so I really don’t mind at all.”

You watched the way your dad eyed Arvin and then you before scoffing and grumbling incoherently as he shuffled his way into the living room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I don’t want you gettin’ kicked out ‘cause of me. You didn’t have to say nothin’.”

Arvin glared at where your father had disappeared and nodded, “Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve all the shit he gives you.”

You suddenly found yourself avoiding his eyes and twisting your lips. He was right and you were well aware of that fact. The abuse your dad put you through was uncalled for at best. The fact that Arvin had actually taken the time to not only notice the same fact but acknowledge it and stand up for you was something you never thought you’d hear someone do. It made you uncomfortable. You’d been fighting this battle by yourself for so long that letting somebody even know it was being waged was enough to make you want to sink away. Even so, a part of you wanted to let Arvin keep standing up for you. It made you feel weak after having to stand up for yourself for so long but also validated.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a moment before turning back towards dinner that sat in a roasting pan on the stove, “Thank you.”

______

Taglist:

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x you #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics #Hayloft

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liighty · 4 years ago

Text

Guzma babysitting Reader’s Niece

(A/N): BACK ON MY BULLSHIT AGAIN! BUT THIS TIME IT’S NOT ALL THAT SELF-INDULGENT AND MIGHT POSSIBLY BE TURNED INTO A SUPER FIC IF I FEEL LIKE IT

In all honesty i’ve thought about making another largeass super self-indulgent Guzma x Reader mega fic, but I’m not sure if I want to? I don’t know if anybody would read it, so that’s what this post is for!!! If you like this and want to see actual Guzma x Reader with plot and not just fluff drabbles lmk!! I have a bunch of asks to address so maybe i’ll get to that too soon

Anyways, back to the fic.

Mini Summary: (Y/N)’s niece needs to be babysat while (Y/N) is interviewed, so they turn to Guzma and crew to help out for a bit. Chaos ensues.

Rating/Triggers: UH drugs are mentioned but not really? THE KID DOES NOT DO DRUGS!!!! but yeah if that makes you uncomfy i’d be careful with it??\

Pairing: Guzma/Gender Neutral!Reader (I used the honorific ‘Titi’ which is gender neutral for ‘Tia’ or ‘Tio’ [extra thanks to Ocha_Bocha for helping me with that one <3] and tried to make it as gender neutral as possible. Originally this was written with a male reader, and then I went female, and ultimately attempted to eliminate gender completely. [Following the footsteps of Splatoon teehee])

Fic under cut!!!!!

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey?" You clutch your niece's hand as you approach the large walls that separate Po Town from the rest of Ula'Ula Island. It's not that you don't trust the man who you're leaving her with- in fact, those two have been acquainted previously and seem to get along fairly well- It's his friends who you're concerned about.

"..." Her silence is expected, as the kid isn't all that talkative. Recognizing the young girl's silence, you frown.

"You can stay in the office lounge if you really want to. I know you aren't the biggest fan of crowds, and um- Guz has some pretty loud friends-" Your explanation of what to be expected is quickly interrupted by a blue haired young man decked in black and white clothing. "Yo yo, what's with the kid?!"

You arch a brow. You knew that Guzma worked with kids, but this guy couldn't be any older than 15! "I could say the same for you. I'm here to talk to Guzma-"

"Ya mean the boss? Why would some random chick want anything ta do with the leader of the Team Skull, huh?!"

A pink haired girl dressed in the same outfit walks up to the boy, crossing her arms. "Shut it, ya clod. Don't you remember the conversation we had with Boss yesterday?"

Hearing this, the blue haired boy's eyes light up in an epiphany. "Ohhhhh shit- Right-"

"Watch yer fuckin' language around the kiddo." She lightly smacks the back of Dansei's head. "She's in good hands, ma'am."

Another pink haired woman, this one being someone you finally recognize, walks in and smacks both of the delinquents in the head once more. "You say that after cussing, Reese?"

Thank God. Plumeria. "Hey Plumes-" You smile weakly, waving politely with your free hand. Your niece does the same. Another young man, this one much shorter than the first and with green curly hair scrambles after Plumeria, jumping up and down to be seen. "Sorry about these numskulls. I'll lead y'all to the big boss man, yo. No worries at all, so you can chillax!"

I'm regretting this more and more by the second.

The crew starts whistling some hip hop tune as they make their way to the Shady House, the smaller boy beatboxing. You've taken this time to offer a piggyback ride to your niece, who's politely declined. Are all kids like this? Or is it just her?

Once they approach the boss, Guzma immediately jumps out of his chair, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Eyyyyyy! (Y/N)!!! Kiddo!! What's up, homeslice?!" He hops down the stairs and crouches so he can get at eye-level with the young girl, offering his fist for a pound-it.

She bumps her fist against his, smiling just a bit. It's more of a reaction than you expected, at least. "S-sup, Uncle Guzma-"

Looks like his slang is rubbing off on her. That's cute.

"Thanks for droppin' by, Doll. No need to worry about Little Miss Troublemaker over here, I got it all under control." He picks up your niece and walks over to you, pressing a looooooooongass smooch on your cheek. The other Team Skull members all make mini comments, like "Ewwww-", "Grosss-", and "Cooties-", causing Plumeria to once again smack their heads together.

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the smirk on your face from growing any further. "Not in front of the kids, Guz." "Ah, right, right- My bad." His shades slide onto his face, hiding the bright red blush that had crept onto his cheeks. "Well, you should probably get goin', ey? The Aether Foundation's one lucky company to have you interviewin' for a position."

"Dork." You boop his nose, then your niece's. "Call me if you need me, okay honey? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay, Titi (Y/N)-" You smile at the nickname while the others snicker. 'Titi' sounds an awful lot like 'Tittie', and considering three of the 7 people in the room are immature teenagers, there's definitely some laughing going on in the background. Plumeria looks very tired. How does she deal with these kids all the time?

"Alright, I'll be back. Don't light anything on fire, okay?" You yell as you walk off, feeling a slight hint of unease at the idea of leaving your young niece with so many delinquents, even if it's just for a few hours. It'll be fine, though. Guzma's there to keep them from doing anything stupid.

You laugh at the thought. Who am I kidding? He's probably gonna be the one who explodes something first.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The interview itself wasn't all that bad. You're fairly certain that you either aced it or put yourself up for consideration, which in itself helped your confidence just a bit. With the absence of Lusamine and the arrest of several of her chairmen, the foundation was very antsy and in need of someone who could handle the Pokemon Observation department. With your background in medicine and PR, you were rationally on the list of potential replacements, and despite your initial resistance, learning that the company would be run by somebody that WASN'T the manipulative little bitch Lusamine gave you enough comfort to accept the offer for the interview. Was it just an offer or an invitation? You weren't quite sure, but Wick was very insistent on you showing up.

Either way, you're pretty certain you got the job. Good on you.

You can't help but wonder how your niece is doing, surrounded by so many troublemakers. As you make your way to the entrance of the Shady House, you can hear loud music, causing you to feel a small tint of anxiety. She'll be fine.

You walk up to the door and creak it open, the smell of burnt… whatever the fuck that is flooding your nostrils. Of course. They lit something on fire.

"Guz??" You call out to the empty room. "Plumes? Anybody home?" As expected, there's no response. You start to feel more and more anxious the more ground you start to cover. Where are they? Peeking your head around the corridor, your anxiety comes to its peak when-

"And that's why you should never do drugs, aight?"

H-Huh?

Your niece sits on Guzma's knee as he bounces it up and down, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face like usual. Awfully burnt cookies sit on the table, explaining the smell from earlier, and Plumeria seems to be asleep with the other team skull grunts. Are they… napping? Seems like it.

She nods enthusiastically, taking a bite of a charred cookie and grimacing shortly after, causing the two to both laugh in unison.

"Doesn't matter if it's just for recreational purposes, you could still get hooked, and that's the last thing we want!" Grinning once again, Guzma pokes her forehead.

Hypocrite. You're reminded of the first time you two had kissed, which happened to be shortly after you both had blazed a couple of joints. It's enough to get you laughing, though.

"Huh?! What're you doing here so early? Don't tell me ya flunked THAT bad!" Guzma's eyes widen, a genuine look of bewilderment painted on his face.

"I did not flunk! I think I did great!" You huff, crossing your arms defiantly. "It's suuuuuuuper comforting that you thought I failed, Guz."

"Nononono I was joking!! Right, kiddo??" Your niece quickly nods. "See???? No harm, no foul!"

Arching a brow, you walk up to the two and pick up the young girl. "Mhmmm. Did you have fun, honey?"

She nods again, unable to contain the grin on her face. "Uncle Guzma told me about his Pokemon training! And I got to ride on Golisopod's back!"

The large bug type pokemon bops up and down upon hearing its name, prompting a smirk from Guzma. "Yeah, I told ya I'd take care of her. She's welcome back anytime, okay?"

"Thanks, Guz." You peck his cheek, and your niece sticks her tongue out, closing her eyes.

"Icky cooties!!" Where the hell did she hear that? The only people you can think of who'd say such a thing are in the other room snoozing, so- Yeah, actually, you know exactly who taught her that word.

"Well, I'm gonna getchu with my cooties! And my tickles!" You raise a hand menacingly, wiggling your fingers with one eye closed. She immediately curls up, not out of fear, but out of excitement. It's nice to see her so happy again.

After a very long tickle session, you quickly glance at the large grandfather clock, noting the short hand of the clock slowly approaching the number 8. Shit. "We gotta go, kiddo. Your dad isn't gonna be all that happy if we get home any later than 8:30. Besides, it's past your bedtime."

"I bet Uncle Guzma stays up past his bedtime-" She yawns. "Can we stay for a little longer?"

How can I say no to that face? You find yourself incredibly conflicted. Do you tell her you have to leave anyways? Or do you stay and risk getting in trouble by your brother-in-law?

"Eh, as much as I'd love to have you over for longer, kiddo- Look at your Titi (Y/N). They look exhausted."

You smile gratefully at the comment, glad that it doesn't have to be you to tell your niece to go home. "Yeah, I'm beat. We can hang out some other time, okay? I promise." You pat her head and get ready to leave.

"Aww… okay. Bye, Uncle Guzma!! Bye Golisopod!" She holds your hand, and the two of you eventually walk your way back to the car. As you drive away, one thing lingers in your head. You can't think of anything else, in all honesty.

Guzma's great with kids. I should've expected as much, but… I'm glad he gets along with my family.

Your stomach rumbles at the intersection. I'd kill for some malasadas right about now-

Okay, maybe you CAN think of something else.

#Skull Boss Guzma #team skull guzma #guzma #guzma x reader #pokemon guzma #team skull #pokemon #pokemon x reader #My writing #i return #hyperfixation #simp hours

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cablesscutie · 4 years ago

Text

Inspired by @hayleynfoster’s comic and some hilarious headcannons about the littlest steambaby with Hayley and @favlie

Read it on AO3

The day Avatar Aang comes to meet his second niece, Fire Lord Zuko refuses to let his youngest child out of sight. Katara rolls her eyes, and reminds her husband that neither of their children had ended up psychologically disturbed because of their flights. “Not,” she adds, pointing at Aang, “that I am allowing a repeat, but I think just holding her while firmly on the ground will be fine.”

“Mmmm,” Zuko hesitates, curling Kallik closer to his chest. Her big eyes blink up at the adults guileless from her blanket. “No.”

“You let Azula hold her!” Aang argues.

“She doesn’t do anything with the babies!” Zuko shoots back. It’s not strictly true, he knows, but his sister’s ritual with newborns is unsettling in a much different way. She simply stares deep into each child’s eyes upon being handed them, until some kind of understanding passes between her and the baby. Results have varied, but the most important part is that there was no threat to life and limb.

Katara’s raised eyebrow says that she also doesn’t believe Zuko’s words, but she doesn’t say anything. They are, after all, a united front - to the children, to politicians, to their friends. In the privacy of their chambers, however, he knows he will be hearing about this.

Katara and Zuko take the kids to spend Kallik’s first birthday at the South Pole. It’s a tradition they’ve observed with all three, and Zuko always looks forward to going to visit her family. The house is loud and chaotic, full to bursting with people, the exact opposite of his own lonely childhood. There is no posturing, and everyone loves and squabbles openly. On this particular visit, they have overlapped with Aang’s stay with Sokka and Suki, so Gran-Gran’s house is in even more of an uproar than usual by the time Zuko and Katara arrive.

Kya immediately dashes off to coo over her little cousins as they toddle around behind Pakku, pretending to be otter penguins. Satoshi runs to the kitchen to be showered in kisses and cookies from Gran-Gran. Hakoda finds them barely out of their parkas and already thoroughly abandoned.

“I could’ve sworn you had at least one other child,” he tells Katara, scratching his head as he pretends to search for his missing grandchildren. She laughs and hugs her father tight. Neither of them let go for long moments, and Zuko’s throat feels tight when he notices his father-in-law’s misty eyes. He looks down at Kallik, thinks of his other two children, and wonders for the thousandth time how Hakoda could ever forgive him for keeping Katara so far away. It’s why he hands his daughter over easily when her grandfather waggles his fingers expectantly and says, “Alright, give her here.”

Hakoda settles Kallik on his hip with practiced ease, and pulls Zuko into a brief hug with his free arm. “Good to see you, son.”

Zuko clears his throat. “You too,” he says, and Katara laughs softly at his awkward shuffling, amused by how he doesn’t know what to do with his hands without a baby in his arms. She answers his question by lacing their fingers together as she leads him deeper into the house to find her brother and their friends seated around the hearth fire watching the kids run around.

Hugs are exchanged all around, and Zuko settles into their familiar company. Hakoda joins them after taking Kallik to say hello to Gran-Gran and Pakku, and bounces the baby on his knee to make her laugh. Aang makes silly faces at her that have her letting out piercing giggles and reaching out to try and grab at the wooden beads of his necklace.

“Well clearly she’s bored of me,” Hakoda says, making to hand her off to her uncle. “Here you go -” Zuko leans over and intercepts.

“Oh no. No baby catapult,” he says, shaking his head.

Aang gives him a pout to rival Momo. “Come on, we’re indoors!” Katara clears her throat, and when Zuko glances over, her eyes are narrowed at him. With a sigh, he holds Kallik out to Aang.

“Fine. But I’m watching you.”

Extended family vacations to Ember Island always sound like a good idea to Katara. At first. When her husband is burnt out and aching, and the kids are climbing the walls, and she just wants to lie in the sun with a book, it seems like the cure for everything.

And then they arrive. Somehow, much like she forgets the excruciating pain of childbirth, she never recalls the onslaught of chaos and catastrophe that comes every vacation. Like the time Sokka got stung by a jelly-ray. Or the time Suki and Zuko got in a fight about disciplining each other’s kids. Or the time every single one of the kids managed to get sunburnt and couldn’t sleep. Every year, it’s always something, and somehow, it usually ends up being at least partially her problem to solve.

This year, though, is somehow turning out alright. They reach day three without major incident, and almost entirely without tears - a near miracle for a vacation involving five children under the age of ten.

“I’m almost done with my first book already,” she tells Zuko as they rock slowly in a hammock on the deck, whispering in hopes of keeping any listening spirits from knowing that she’s gotten her hopes up.

“Good, you deserve the break,” Zuko says. He looks on the verge of sleep despite the fact that the sun is still climbing in the sky. The dark circles beneath his eyes are already faded almost to nothing. She sighs happily and grabs her book, but before she can actually crack it open, she hears Toph cackling and her Mom Senses light up. Zuko calls after her in surprise as she leaves the hammock swaying wildly behind her, but she doesn’t look back on her way to the beach.

When she arrives, it is just in time to see Toph pick up Kallik, a wicked smile on her face. Sokka and Suki’s twins are further down the beach standing beside Aang, both of them jumping up and down with excitement, waiting for something.

“Go long, Twinkle Toes!” Katara’s eyes go wide, and faster than should be possible, she reaches them, yanking Kallik out of Toph’s hands. “Hey!”

“Absolutely not!” Katara says, scowling.

“I was gonna catch her!” Aang shouts. Katara shakes her head.

“This is not happening. No way.” Then, silently lamenting the loss of quiet time with her husband, Katara looks at the twins and asks, “Who wants to go get some ice cream?

At Zuko’s request, his birthday is not a big deal with his family. It’s a combination of the fact that the entire Fire Nation loses its mind about the day anyway, so he is all but forced to spend a day attending a festival in his honor, and the fact that he is used to his birthday being a marker of all the disappointments he has been in the past year. It is a long-standing compromise with his wife that she is allowed to throw him a small, family-only party, to be kept within the bounds of the garden. He enjoys the excuse to get everyone together without a barrage of meetings involved, and the rest of their family is so boisterous in comparison to him, he can almost forget that the day has anything to do with him at all.

For his thirtieth birthday, he makes the further concession of allowing Uncle to set up his new phonograph so there could be dancing. Zuko is manning the crank, watching Katara and Kya swing each other around while Aang sits next to him, flipping through the records looking for the right song.

“Do you have a request too?” Zuko hears him ask, and turns to see Kallik has toddled away from Uncle Iroh and approached the Avatar. She puts her hands on his knees and starts bouncing, flashing him a smile that shows all of her new teeth. “You want upsies?” Aang coos, and reaches to scoop her up by the armpits. Zuko clears his throat loudly, shooting Aang his best murder eyes, and the Avatar shrinks back into the collar of his robes a little. “What about dance party?” He lets Kallik grab onto his fingers and starts hopping around with her to the beat, hunched over and both of them giggling.

“Oh Uncle Aaaaang!” Kya sings, striding out into the garden where Appa has just landed. She has Kallik on her hip, and Satoshi follows along at her heels, excited to see Appa and Momo again. His pockets are already full of lychee nuts for his fuzzy friends.

“Hey guys!” Uncle Aang calls, his gangly arms waving excitedly. “Are you the welcoming committee now?” He lands in front of them on a gentle breeze, setting down his bag and grinning broadly.

“Mom and Dad are in a meeting,” Kya informs him. “But somebody wanted to go for a little flight.” She hitches the toddler higher and winks conspiratorially. “If you catch my drift.” Uncle Aang’s eyes go wide, and he looks between the kids with unease. Satoshi feels terror grip his throat. He knew his big sister was crazy, but would she really…?

“Oh I dunno, your Dad was pretty...adamant...that you all are grounded until further notice.” Satoshi lets out a sigh of relief.

“Dad’s in a meeting,” Kya reiterates, as though being in a meeting involves entering another dimension. She should know better, her brother thinks to himself. Mom and Dad always find out when they’re up to no good, and as the sibling who’s usually leading the charge into trouble, Kya should definitely have that figured out by now. Uncle Aang should absolutely know that by now, but with horor, Satoshi realizes that the Avatar is looking a little bit convinced. “And we’re not gonna tell on you,” she wheedles. Speak for yourself, Satoshi thinks, glancing around to see if there are any guards within earshot if he calls for their parents. Sadly, it seems nobody has realized that the Avatar requires careful supervision.

“Well…” Uncle Aang considers, then comes to his decision, smiling once again. “Alright, I guess one can’t hurt. Who’s going?”

Kya moves to offer Kallik to him, her tiny hands reaching out and making grabby motions. Satoshi’s world goes into slow-motion. There’s a roaring in his ears, and as if from outside his body, he hears his own voice say,

“I am.” Kya and Uncle Aang blink at him, stunned. Their uncle is the first to recover, and asks,

“Are you sure, kiddo? I mean, you weren’t the biggest fan when you were a baby…”

“I want to try again,” he makes himself say, despite his sweating palms. Uncle Aang grins and ruffles his hair.

“That’s the spirit! You get that from your dad.”

As his uncle’s hands grab him under the armpits, Satoshi hears Kya mutter, “It’s the self-sacrificing idiot gene,” and then he is gone. As he soars through the air, he wonders if maybe his body hasn’t even left the ground yet. He can’t feel anything. Maybe he just died of panic and this is just his soul taking off for the spirit world.

Then he reaches the height of his arc and starts plummeting back to Earth, and the sensation of all his internal organs rattling around asserts the fact that he is very much still alive and experiencing this. He closes his eyes before he gets anywhere close to the ground, so it comes as a surprise when he comes to a sudden stop, cradled briefly by robes smelling of hay and bison fur, before being deposited back on his feet.

“How’s the weather up there?” Uncle Aang asks him, patting him on the back. Satoshi doesn’t know what the weather was like. He doesn’t know anything except that solid ground beneath his feet may have replaced his mother’s hugs as his favorite feeling in the world. He meets Kya’s eyes, and sees from her horrified expression that he must look like as much of a husk of a child as he feels.

A quiet, affectless “Thank you,” is all that he can manage to say, and then he is wandering back into the palace, where he shoves his head into the nearest antique vase and screams.

“Psst.” A small sound behind him has Aang on alert. The Fire Nation Royal Palace hasn’t been a place of danger for years now, but with Toph and Sokka around, the probability of sneak attacks has risen a hundred fold. He doesn’t see anything though, and goes to turn back around, only to be caught by a surprisingly firm grip on his cape. About two feet below where he’d expected to find his assailant, Aang comes face to face with his youngest niece, Kallik. Her expression is the same determined furrow of the brow that Katara and Zuko have shared for so long it is impossible to tell which parent bestowed the trait on her. It has the eerie effect of summoning the terrifying force that is their combined will. Aang already knows that whatever she wants from him, he’s going to cave, and it will probably get him in trouble. “I hear you’re in the business of yeeting kids. I want in.”

Aang sighs. Zuko has been trying to prevent this day since the moment Aang met Kallik, and Kallik has been trying to evade her father’s overprotective tendencies since the moment of her existence. It is a battle Katara has elected not to fight, likely remembering her own impossible stubbornness and the futility of trying to stand against it. So it is with all of that knowledge that he says, “Okay.”

“Flameo!” Kallik cheers, punching at the air.

“Well ‘flameo’ was actually more of a greeting -”

“Let’s save the fun facts. I wanna fly.” With a creeping sense of dread, Aang follows the child pulling him along by the cape until they reach a courtyard. Kallik turns to face him, plants her feet, and rubs her palms together. “Alright,” she says, spreading her arms wide. “I’m ready.”

“Here we go...I guess,” Aang says, glancing over his shoulder as he reaches out to scoop her up by the armpits. The coast is clear, so he swings her around in circles a couple of times to get ready. As his niece starts to giggle, the garden blurs, and wind ruffles his robes, Aang feels the giddy anticipation of liftoff.

He hoists Kallik, up, up, up.

And then her momentum carries her out of his hands, and the wind that has built up around them propels her even higher. Her already small body shrinks until she looks more like the shadow of a bird in the night sky, clearing the palace roofs. A happy shriek pierces the air. Aang smiles, feeling her wonder as if it is his own. This is always the best part of someone’s first flight - witnessing them discover the wind anew - and while taking Air Acolytes to glide at the Northern Air Temple is fun, nothing compares to sharing this part of his culture with his nieces and nephews.

Kallik tumbles back into his arms, eyes wide with wonder, ecstatic grin plastered across her face. “Again!” she cries, the moment breath rushes back to her.

Aang laughs and holds her on his hip. As he always does, he asks, “How’s the weather up there?”

“The moon is huge! And I could see the whole city! And the ocean!” Kallik’s pudgy hands move in broad, sweeping gestures so similar to her mother’s bending as she speaks. He still remembers Katara’s delighted gasp the first time she flew, Toph’s bruising grip, Zuko’s shocked laugh. This moment, too, will be another piece of the Air Nomad legacy living on.

As Aang tosses Kallik yet again, Katara finds Zuko leaning against a pillar at the edge of the courtyard, watching. She approaches her husband, curious to find that he isn’t having a coronary at the sight of their daughter in freefall, and takes hold of his arm.

“You gonna yell at him?” she asks, feigning nonchalance. He doesn’t look away from them, but he is smiling, serene.

“Eh, she seems fine.”

#zutara #steambabies #zk fic #my writing

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saeyoungs-sunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Strike a Chord (Gavin x MC)

Summary: Gavin learns to face the music.

Prompt: First time they saw each other cry.

Notes: This was part of @belovedstill ‘s New Fandom February event :) so it’s my first fic for MLQC and my fav Gavvy boi (just in time lol) <33 The prompt was also provided by @stehkotori ‘s collaborative writing event ‘Our Firsts’! (Both from discord). Also, do yourself a favour and PLEASE go check out these lovely ladies’ blogs, they are extremely talented and hardworking and I weep a little thinking about it hahah, I promise you won’t regret it!!!💛

Word count: ~2000

(Psst, if you wanna have an idea of what the piece MC plays in this sounds like, I imagined something like this: youtube / spotify)

***

Another day, another pair of knuckles striking another face, painting another cheekbone red, another eye stained purple.

Gavin stepped out of the teacher’s office, clicking the door shut and sighing as he dragged his feet away. He studied his red and bloodied knuckles as he wandered through the hallways, grimacing as he ran his fingers along a particularly nasty cut.

There was a slight tremor in his hand, the effect of the pure adrenaline that had coursed through his body finally catching up with him. He heavily fell against a locker for a moment, surveying the golden-dipped leaves that whirled around the tattered bench across the path from him. The inevitable crash hit him, like waves against rocks on the shore. He should be going back to class now, he thought, and he almost entertained the idea until piano music began to fill the hollow hallway. The ethereal echo sang to him, calling for him in his temporary haze. A siren in a sea storm.

His budding curiosity got the better of him as his unsteady legs carried him towards the music. It wasn’t unusual to hear students practising during school hours, yet it often wasn’t as pleasant on the ear as it was now.

Gavin wandered past each practise room, only offering a quick glance into each one. All were empty except for one, and his stomach flipped as he did a double take.

It was her. Of course. How had that not been his first thought when the music started playing? Only her music had the power to captivate him so completely.

Rose brushed his cheeks as he found himself staring, yet he was physically incapable of breaking the gaze that focussed in on her hands, as long but delicate fingers danced tenderly across the keys.

It took Gavin a minute longer than it maybe should have to pick up on the subtle glisten that rolled down her cheek and the occasional jerk of her shoulders. She was crying, and the tears continued to run with every second that Gavin remained on the other side of the glass, helpless.

Except he wasn’t, not really. He could walk in there right now and comfort her. It would take no more than ten steps and he would be there for her, just like she was for him the last time she played. How could it be that something which had saved him before was now tormenting her?

Gavin pondered as reached for the door handle, the cool metal against his palm bringing a prominent reality to what he was about to do, and he started to question himself. Whether she would really want him in a vulnerable moment like this, whether he would actually be able to comfort her in the way she needs.

In a rare moment of weakness, Gavin decided he didn’t want to know.

So he walked away from her song, heavy with guilt but heavier with doubt. He would watch over her, like he silently promised her he would, but it was better for both of them this way. He didn’t need to be personally involved to look out for her, and she needn’t bother herself with him.

After all, she was a girl whose hands left subtle fingerprints on keys, whilst his left bruises on skin.

***

She defeatedly slid down the wall and swiped the back of her hand against her brow, wiping away the sweat from her efforts.

Gavin followed close behind, three boxes stacked high in his arms and not even a glisten on his face. His eyes tracked down to find hers, a chuckle escaping his lips at the state he found her in, “Done already? We’ve not even brought up the kitchen stuff.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Gavin couldn’t help but laugh again when she completely sank to the floor, her hand pathetically waving an imaginary white flag in mock surrender. He placed the boxes down, “Okay, I hear you. We’ll take a break before we bring up the rest.”

“You always know what to say to make my heart flutter, Officer.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, but the curving of his lips followed swiftly after. He managed to pull her up to her feet, wrapping her arms around his waist before moving the damp wisps of hair out of her face, “Actually, I have something to show you.”

“Oh?”

He smiled, “Mhm. Come on, let’s have a look round.”

He laced his fingers with hers as they wandered through each room, mentally placing each piece of furniture. The vase that she had bought from the market on one of their first dates would look best on the windowsill, and the lucky elephant figurine that Minor got them as a housewarming gift would beautifully compliment the books on the shelf, standing proudly above the fireplace. The pair couldn’t restrain the smiles that crept up their faces or the occasional squeeze of their intertwined hands. Little pieces of them started to fill the space before they were even out of the boxes, their future unfolding before them.

Gavin stopped her before the conservatory, the curtains drawn and the door locked.

She raised an eyebrow, “Gavin?”

He said nothing, he simply unlocked the door and led her into the bright room. Her eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did her jaw fell slack, her eyes widening.

Standing there splendidly in the centre of the room was a sleek grand piano. There was not a fingerprint or smudge to be seen on its surface, completely untainted, as if it had always been there. Untouched, waiting patiently for her melody.

She looked to Gavin then, unable to formulate words as tears pricked her eyes. She stumbled over a few words of disbelief before Gavin chuckled, taking mercy on the girl, “Somebody owed me a favour, managed to settle on this. Isn’t she a beauty?”

She nodded, her smile reaching her eyes as she lunged towards Gavin, practically leaping into his arms. He caught her, he always did. Enveloping her in his arms, he held her closer, nuzzling into her neck as she spewed her gratitudes.

“Anything for you,” he said, pulling back and looking into her eyes before pressing his lips against her forehead, “Play me something?”

She nodded enthusiastically, plonking herself onto the seat. Gavin slid up next to her, noticing the instant shift in her energy as she admired the keys. She became serene, focussed, pondering over what song she should play for him. With the slight curve of her lips and a glint in her eye, her fingers began to move.

Within the first few seconds, Gavin felt his heart drop.

It was the song.

Not the song that had saved him all those years ago; not the one that had pushed him over the edge, but the one that he heard as he fell for the second time -- fell deeper in love with her. The first real snippet of her that he got; the first time he wanted to hold her, protect her from whatever caused her tears to run. It showed her vulnerability, an intimate moment formed between them unbeknownst to her.

He was so lost in her song that he only registered the tear long after it had fallen. One perfect drop, sliding down his cheekbone to lay rest at the point of his chin, before falling into his shirt. He tried to blink away the remaining moisture in his eyes, but only when he saw the glisten of droplets on her eyelashes did he stop himself.

Here she was, emotionally bare before him, unguarded and unafraid. A piece of music so personal played so freely, for him. The simple idea that he was trusted enough, that she felt safe enough, to be this vulnerable with him and let him into this sanctuary she had created made his eyes burn more, but now he didn’t care. They were on a path to a deeper, more vulnerable place in their relationship with this song, and he would meet her half way.

When her fingers seized, they finally looked at each other, sparkling pool staring into sparkling pool. There was a tender, warm silence shared between them before they erupted in giggles, palms wiping away the aftermath of their shared emotion.

She softly brushed the hair that obstructed the gold of his eyes and cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to fall on hers, “I know why I’m crying, but what’s got you all upset, hm? You never let me see you cry.”

Gavin placed his hand over hers, leaning into her touch, “I’ll only tell you if you go first.”

She told him it was a song her grandfather had composed - for her. It told the story of her childhood, her growing up. She would often hear snippets of it when she visited, always in the background, the soundtrack of her youth. The first time she heard it in full was after he had passed, having left her the score to do with what she pleased. The first time she had heard it in full, was the same time Gavin had heard it in full. Completely unknowingly, by chance, an act of fate.

He could hear it now. The piece was absolutely riddled with her. Everything she was, and everything she became. This song, it was her.

Perhaps that was what pulled him in all those years ago in the barren school hallway. In fact, he was certain that was it. That song was what tied the knot in the rope they held between them, pulling him to shore every time he drifted away.

It was the second time he had been saved by her song, and he was saved every moment after.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve heard this song before? The day you played it in the music room?” he asked, her eyes widening at his confession. He continued, “I saw you, and nearly came in but...I was too much of a coward to go to you. I should have-”

He stopped when she threw her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his clean, fresh scent. He was so silly sometimes.

“You know, after I finished playing that day, I felt a huge wave of relief and...comfort. I thought it must have been the release from all the crying, but from that day I couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching out for me, protecting me. I assumed it was my grandfather looking down, but that never felt right. It didn’t feel like him,” she pulled back, meeting his eyes once again, “But I know now. It was you, wasn’t it? You didn’t need to come in, I felt it. I knew you were there, and that was the greatest comfort I have ever felt. You have a way of doing that, you know,” she rested her head on his shoulder, “Making people feel safe.”

Gavin could hardly keep it together, but he held on long enough to wrap an arm over her and pull her close, planting a long kiss on the top of her head. He focussed on the feeling of her against him, reminding himself that she was there, that he had truly found his way back to her. That, after all his years of doubt and bitter regret, he had never actually failed her.

That was his new favourite song. Not because it saved him, but because it saved her -- saving them.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! Have a lovely day <33

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #gavin bai #gavin x mc #gavin bai x mc #mlqc gavin x mc #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #my writing

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

Note

May I request GHJPU for Sebastian? Sebby needs more love :D (eee sorry if any of this overlapped or its too much, have a cookie for your troubles 🍪)

DID SOMEBODY SAY LOVING SEBASTIAN HOURS!?!?!?!?! FERAL EYE GLEAM

Bless your heart!!! Sebastian has found a new and very dear place in my heart as of late, I would be delighted to offer my thoughts!!!!! :D (your cookie offering has been accepted with the utmost glee 🍪, I hope my humble writing efforts will bring you equal joy, lovely~💖💖💖)

G = Gifts (How does he feel about gift giving? What are his habits when it comes to this?)

Awwww haha, baby boy Sebby is honestly a very observant and reliable kind of S/O, I think. He will notice even the tiniest of changes in MC’s expression--the slightest shifts in her temperament. As a result of his attentive nature he has an easy time deducing the things she might like, always makes a mental note of where her eyes linger. Is there a classic she once loved in her time being published for the first time in their era, on display at a bookstore nearby? Noted. Does she hover near shops filled with self-care products--things like scented candles or lotions or bath salts, things she considers indulgent luxuries? Noted. Is there an outfit that caught his eye in a boutique, something he thinks would complement her complexion perfectly? Noted.

The thing about Sebastian is that his gifts will be heartfelt, timely, and devastatingly thoughtful. Whether something small or something lavish it will always be precisely what she needs/wants, and she can sense the loving care he put into finding the perfect gift.

H = Holding Hands (When/how does he like to hold hands?)

Honestly? Sebastian has spent the better part of his life alone. His circumstances weren’t the worst; for all that he’s lost in his life he never went hungry, lived comfortably. But...that doesn’t change the fact that his life has been fairly devoid of meaningful human contact. Even in college, friends and close colleagues were hard to come by. The few people he did develop budding feelings for he always gave up on long before it could become any kind of substantial relationship. He was always the type to admire from afar, never really felt worthy of the people he liked.

It was MC that was the first to reach out to him, and for the first little while in their relationship she will be the one most naturally inclined to reach for him. He isn’t really used to having someone by his side like this, somebody who would be delighted to hold his hand--who wants to be close to him. It’s always a shock when they go grocery shopping and he just feels her fingers wrap gently around his. She blushes a little and says something about not wanting to get separated, but it’s clear what her real motivation was.

After those first few months, it becomes much more natural for him to reach for her hand when they’re traveling somewhere together or when they’re alone. He likes to intertwine their fingers, loves the way they fit against his perfectly. His shyness wears off after a while, and it’ll be rare to see them together without them holding hands--unless they’re cooking or at work.

J = Jokes (Does he like to joke around with or prank her? How?)

Do you know how cats have their eyes all narrow thin pupil but then they go REALLY REALLY round? That’s Sebastian. I tend to refer to it as “Silly Time Mode Engaged.”

Now then, his kind of joking is very dry and very deadpan. It’s subtle and immediate, so if you’re not attuned to it it can be easy to miss. That, or people just look at him weird because they don’t quite get the connection he’s making and/or the delivery feels off because his facial expression doesn’t change at all, completely flat. That being said, one of his all time favorite things to do is to say something absurd or nigh histrionic (which tends to be uncharacteristic of him) and wait for the confused head turn/startled laughter to hit. He will make puns and play on words all the time--he puts his academic knowledge to good use.

“I swear when I first met you I was convinced you were an AI.” “Alexa taught me everything I know.” He’ll bow. “Oh? Do I have competition, in that case?” “Your speakers are suboptimal (he pokes her freckles), but you possess what Alexa lacks.” “And that would be?” He’ll gather her close, smiling against her lips. “My heart.” :D cutest robot I ever saw uwu

Bonus bc I have a problem: “Is stealing hearts in Alexa’s programming? Just to be safe, of course.” “I think it’s safe to say it isn’t within the parameters of her design--but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods just yet.” cue sounds of tickling and laughter

The other way Sebastian messes with MC is that he is an ENORMOUS tease in the bedroom. He’s very much the kind of lover that prefers to tantalize and draw things out; a long, slow seduction that will render MC immobile from the pleasure by the end. The promise of a kiss is almost always only a whisper of the feeling he intends to drown her in. Remember that Sebastian’s stoicism belies a nigh inhuman ardor and self-control. He’s more than willing to leave her wanting in order to fully capitalize on that desire later at night.

P = Pet Names (What does he like to call her?)

Other than her name? HE DOESN’T AHAAHAHAHAHA Just kidding of course, but given where he comes from pet names between couples aren’t...really a thing…(take it up with Japan, I Was Today Years Old, my sappy romantic ass would never survive)

The funny inverse of this though is that he does NOT fuck around with people that try to call MC pet names. When Arthur Tries It™ he canonically goes all steely saccharine, openly telling the others they’re together. So none of that “luv” or “doll” business, he will not have it (he won’t fight the purebloods on it because 1. they’re more like doting grandfathers than anything and 2. Sebastian does not have a death wish). If MC has a nickname of some kind, then I could see him using that or adding his own spin on it with a great deal of affection c:

U = Upset (How does he act when she’s upset?)

Whether he was the cause or not, Sebastian has a single modus operandi when his beloved is upset (and to anyone who’s upset really) and that is to offer gentle reassurance/an apology. He is very, very sensitive to the feelings of others and really takes it to heart when someone isn’t feeling well. That being said, he won’t always be overt about his concern--he’s more the type to do little things that offer constant support/reminders that he’s there for them.

If it’s something more serious, he will do everything in his power to minimize the harm done and sooth the MC. His attempts to comfort her will be tender, muted, and consistent; prolonged hugs, doubles his offering of sweets, makes her favorite foods, gives her a relaxing bath salt to use--anything that he knows for certain will coax her lips up into a smile. He’s the type to freely offer space for her to figure things out if she needs it, but he will also be watchful; he won’t let things escalate if she needs externalized support to heal (bc lbr some problems we can’t solve alone ;-;).

His other go-to method is to offer distractions in any capacity that he can. Will offer to teach her a new recipe, or find a new type of flower he wants to plant together, or make up some kind of project he needs help with. Sometimes he’ll genuinely need the help, but most of the time he does it for the express purpose of getting her mind away from negative things and focused on him/the present. It’s hard to dwell on upsetting things when you’re body is physically demanding something else from you, even more so if it’s a fairly complex task. She’s known to be very dutiful; she’ll be so focused on doing a good job she’ll forget the sadness/irritation for a bit and the intensity of the emotion might ebb slightly.

If the issue is lighter, he’ll probably just cuddle/tickle her back to fighting spirit, pressing kisses wherever he can reach until she starts giggling. In these instances he prefers to hug her from behind, a reminder that she doesn’t have to face anything unpleasant or unnerving all on her own; he’ll always be there to hold her steady whenever she needs him.

And rest assured, this man is always gathering data to optimize his comfort capabilities. He is incredibly adaptable, and will always be watching her reactions closely to adjust his strategies.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp sebas #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp hcs #ikevamp akihiko #these were really fun to write!#sebby's route was a delight #he definitely climbed up my personal rankings for sure #ikevamp has given me so many delightful surprises #it'll likely still be a wait for the english crowd tho so i hope this tides you over lovelies~#not incorrect quotes

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gloves94 · 5 years ago

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Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 5

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area." A soldier from Commander Zhao's fleet had stepped into Team Zuko's. He had basically barged in an demanded that the prince hand over all information in regards of the Avatar. And here Iroh the ever optimistic thought they were here for a game of Pai Sho.

"I've got nothing to report to Zhao," Zuko stated coldly as he looked at the floor and then glared at the soldiers that stood before him. "Now off my ship!" He roared casting Tsai to jump slightly as he pointed them out.

'Who is this Zhao?'

Tsai knew that it wasn't hard to get under Zuko's skin, but there was something about this man that seemed to really irritate him. Or maybe it was the fact they had been sailing northeast without a single sighting in the past couple of days. Not knowing much about the war or its generals or commanders she remained clueless to his man's identity, but would he would he have to crawl over her dead body if she was just going to let somebody take her destiny of bringing peace to the Fire Nation world. Approaching the table she read over a wanted poster that some of the soldiers were looking at.

"It says here that the Avatar can create tornadoes and run faster than the wind," one of the soldiers read aloud in awe. "Pretty amazing!" Another said.

Tsai blinked twice taken aback when an image of a boy no older than twelve which was painted on the poster. He was just a child, a bald child with eager eyes and a tattooed arrow pointing down the middle of his forehead. "But he's just a child," she gaped in surprise. All this time she had been imagining a very old man. But if he was a child- why on Earth hadn't Zuko been able to capture him?

She didn't know much about air benders. No one did, after all they had been extinct for the past one hundred years. Part of her wished the ship had a library where she could research information about the Avatar, but wait maybe there was something she could do...

"Tsai, care to join us for a game of Pai Sho? I think they are getting better," Iroh called. "I'll pass for now. I have to write to my family," it wasn't a complete lie. "Good luck gentleman," she smiled sweetly at the men making some of them swoon.

Xxx

'Brother,

I hope you are well. I know I have been gone less than a week. I hope you don't miss me too much. I also wish I could tell you where I am, but it is hard to pin point. We are presently sailing northwest hot on the Avatar's trail. Can you believe it?

Iroh has been a most gracious host. I enjoy spending time with him, he really reminds me of grandpa, and the prince well- tell mother not to get too excited, but he does have some redeeming qualities (and a terrible temper as well).

Mecha, I need to ask you yet another favor. Please send me all information you might have on air benders or air bending. Turns out the Avatar is only a child! A slippery one that is if he's had Prince Zuko chasing him all over the world with no success.

Lots of love to the family,

- Your Sister Tsai'

Tsai came down from the commander tower after having sent out a fire hawk home to her brother. Coming down she encountered a fire show of the prince angrily kicking and punching bold strokes of dangerous fire in all directions. He even appeared to be radiating anger.

"Hey, you O.K.?" She found herself asking once again. She put her hands on her waist as she eyed him carefully barely dodging a fire blast which headed in her direction. Part of her suspected that had not been an accident. He wore a maroon training tunic that showed off his toned arms.

"Perfectly fine," he grumbled. Obviously not pleased. "Is it because of that man Zhao?" She pressed on. "We can't give up yet! We can still find the Avatar before him," she said in a determined tone. "We?"He scoffed incredulously.

As far as he knew Tsai brought nothing to table except for maybe tea and Pai Sho. She nodded holding a fist to her chest a determined glint in her honey brown eyes. "I know we can do it!"

"She's right Prince Zuko," Iroh suddenly appeared. "I was becoming worried when you hadn't ordered your men in the past hour."

"How? With Zhao's resources, it's just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar," he stated upset. He turned and lowered his voice into almost a whisper, "My honor, my throne, my country... I'm about to lose them all." A somber gust of wind passed by.

Seeing him like this. Seeing anybody like this broke the girl's mushy heart. She looked at him sadly.

"But you have something Zhao doesn't have!" She said animatedly.

Both Iroh and Zuko turned to look at her with expecting eyes. "Something worth fighting for!"

His fists clenched at his sides in fury. "That's absolutely useless!" He roared in frustration. She flinched a little at his tone. I mean she was only trying to help...

"Prince Zuko, a word from Zhao's men. Apparently the Admiral has the Avatar on his compound grounds."

Tsai closed her eyes not wanting to witness the volcano that was about to explode in front of her. 'Talk about bad timing.' Her hair was whipped wildly by several heat waves.

Shutting her eyes even tighter she set her mind to it, she was determined to do something about this. If Zhao had the Avatar that meant that the odds of her having a chance at achieving her grandfather's dream would be destroyed.

Xxx

It was already the evening. Zuko braced himself for the battle that he would encounter tonight. He put his twin blades on his back and shed his princely identity becoming a Blue Spirit of the night. He was ready to sneak out when a gentle knock made him freeze on the spot.

"H-Hey," a voice said softly.

It was Tsai.

"I'm really sorry about today. Just know I'm going to try my best to help out more from now on. I understand if you're still upset. Well, have a good night then." He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath all of this time. He slowly released it when he heard her foot steps trail off.

Meanwhile Tsai tip toed around the ship until she reached the deck where some of the soldier's were currently lounging keeping their night guard.

"Gentleman," she coed in a soft voice.

Their jaws dropped at the sight. One wolf whistled inappropriately. They were basically salivating at the sight of the lady before them. Her eyes were coated with cleverly applied dark make up, more than she usually wore. Perfect for an evening look. Her lips were rogue and her features had been professionally contoured. Crimson hair cascaded down her back in full waves. "Anybody feel like taking me ashore?" She popped her hip to the side dramatically batting her eyelashes.

A few moments later Tsai was ashore standing outside the gates of the Pohuai Stronghold She noted the way it was heavily armed and had no trouble batting her eyelashes getting inside. One of the few advantages of war was that these men hadn't seen a woman in ages.

xxx

"Tell me, how does it feel to be the only airbender left?" Zhao taunted the Avatar as he rounded him in a chamber. "Do you miss your people?" He pressed on leaning maliciously close towards the boy.

Taking in a massive breath the Avatar blew the man hard against the metal door making him lose his balance and ungracefully fall on his face. "Blow all the wind you want. Your situation is futile. There is no escaping this fortress and nobodyis coming to rescue you." He scowled.

"Admiral Zhao," a soldier suddenly entered the chamber. "You better come quick Sir." he urged, "Y-You've got an important guest," he adjusted his helmet his face slightly turning scarlet.

Zhao raised an eyebrow with intrigue. He had not been expecting anybody. Could it have been that Fire Lord Ozai had sent a personal gift to him? He ran a hand through his hair combing it down in a narcissistic matter.

Xxx

Tsai had been brought to a waiting room which wasn't nearly as elegant as the one in her home. She sat comfortably with a relaxed expression on her features, her poise and feet had been placed in a strategic way which she knew highlighted her best features. (She had also stuffed her bra with two apples although she would never confess that to anyone). She wore a flattering emerald green kimono dress that fit her in all the right places a jade butterfly clip held half of her hair up elegantly.

"I wasn't expecting any company tonight." A man whom Tsai assumed to be Admiral Zhao walked in. He air of arrogance seemed to follow him. He was a middle-aged military man with dark gray hair and sharp sideburns that made his features appear more angular. A smug smirk twisted on his lips. "Ms. Haru of Hu Xin," his eyes scanned her body tracing every curve and inch of her visible skin.

"I had heard tales of the man, the myth, the legend-"

Tsai almost threw up in her mouth. She could not believe she had just said that. It was official she had been reading way too many cheesy plays. As disgusting as this was, she had a plan, and a part to play if she wanted to succeed. She rose to her feet slightly draping one of the sleeves down to display a bare shoulder. "Had to come see it myself. Meet the infamous Admiral Zhao." She spoke as she rounded him. His eyes followed her, enjoying every minute of having his ego stroked. "Congrats on the promotion," she spoke lowly in an attempt to sound both older and more mature. How old was he anyways?

"How old are you Haru?" He said with an edge of suspicion raising up an eyebrow. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to ask a lady for her age?" She let out a throaty chuckle as she flirted. "I'm almost twenty," she lied with skill tossing him back a look.

Tsai lied through her teeth the entire night. She had managed to convince a high ranking military officer, an admiral, that she was around town visiting her cousin and upon hearing the news that the now 'famed' admiral was in town, well she just had to visit. It was such an absurd lie and Zhao appeared to be such an ego maniac that he totally ate it up. The two were currently sitting on one of the sofa seats. Both were drinking some wine that the admiral had been reserving for a special occasion. With every minute that passed he inched closer and closer to her wanting more than just hand holding or gentle strokes. Tsai's ruse was beginning to collapse. She had to get out of here and fast. She chuckled nervously as the man stroked her waist and slowly inched his hand lower and lower. He was also leaning in closer-

"Ah-I'm-Um.. I need to use the restroom!" She declared jumping to her feet. The Admiral collapsed on the sofa and turned to look at her with an elbow propped holding his head up. "Don't be long," he purred.

Knowing him he probably found his intimidation to be 'endearing' or something twisted amongst those lines.

The girl tiptoed out in to the hallway and let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding once she was out of his sight. Great- now she had to find the Avatar. If she was Zhao were would he keep the Avatar? Probably close by, tall in this tower. She rushed up the stairs running as fast as she could. She really had no time to waste.

Xxx

The Blue Spirit had successfully infiltrated Zhao's compound base. He snuck in floor by floor until he reached the top of the tower. However, he was surprised when he did not encounter any soldiers. Only evidence of a conflict. Abandoned helmets rolled down the empty hallways. Marks of conflicts, stains of blood and slashes had scarred the walls of the military compound.

There was also water in the floor and a wooden bucket which had been smashed to bits and pieces.

'Just- what happened here?' Zuko thought to himself. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Somebody had beat him to it. There was somebody else here.

xxx

Aang heard what sounded like punched being thrown followed by painful screams. He brazed himself and kept his eyes focused on the steel door that was across from him. It was then that the door opened and a beautiful woman walked in. She exhaled sharply quickly running her hands through her wavy red colored hair combing it back into place. His jaw dropped as she ran towards him. Her emerald dressing robes fluttering behind as she did.

"There's no time," she stood before him and upon closeness Aang realized she was only a teenager. One in a very poor disguise. "Who are y-" He began to ask. "No time," she hissed glaring and pulled an apple from the inside of her robe slamming it against his open mouth silencing him. She appeared to be picking at the locks with the back of her hair pin. It was then that the door behind the two was once again shut.

xxx

Both Aang and Tsai couldn't believe what they were seeing an individual wearing black with a Blue Spirit theater mask entered the room. Aang bit the apple hard the fruit collapsing on the floor as he swallowed almost choking on the piece of apple.

Xxx

Zuko blinked twice, shook to his core. He was thankful for the mask for it hid his expression of shock and disbelief. Was he hallucinating?

'How had- there was no way- but- it had to be.'

Pulling out his twin blades be began an elaborate display of mastery over the blades. The Avatar let out a loud scream. The lady wearing the emerald dress kimono stood before him pushing him behind, shielding him with her body.

"Shh!!" She hissed as the Avatar screeched for his life. The masked individual came closer and evenly sliced the Avatar's hand restrains. Aang felt his arms drop as the blood rush back to them. The Avatar and his lovely savior looked at the masked individual in shock.

Xxx

Zuko stood mere inches away from her. Now he was more certain than ever. It was most definitely her. It was Tsai and she appeared to be wearing some type of disguise. Regardless, she looked-

He shook his head. He snapped back to reality realizing that both his uncle's royal guest and the Avatar were starring at him with their eyes the size of golf balls. He lowered his weapons also freeing the Avatar's feet. Tsai and Aang exchanged a look as Zuko walked towards the door. "What's going on?"

The red-headed beauty slowly walked over to the Blue Spirit. Her light brown eyes were focused on him. Friend or foe? She measured her opponent. There was something familiar about his stance, about his posture, something that she couldn't put her finger on.

It was impossible. Zuko remained in shock. Not a single hair out of place, her clothes remained impeccable with no signs of struggle. He looked at her hands both resting at her sides without a weapon.

Also- how on Earth had she even gotten of the ship?

"I think he's here to save you," she spoke after making a decision. Sticking a hand into her dress she pulled out an apple from her chest, her expression serious. "Listen here," She reached for the spirit's dark shirt and fisted it pulling the mask close to her face. She paused for a moment attempting to catch a glimpse of any notable feature underneath the mask. "I have important things to do, places to be-" she hissed out. Her grip becoming tighter.

Zuko had never seen her like this, had never seen her eyes hold such darkness in them.

"I'm entrusting you with the Avatar Blue Spirit and I've got news for you. If anything happens to him. If there is a scratch on his bald head, a broken limb, if any harm comes to him-" Her hand trembled slightly before the apple she had been holding in her hand was crushed into a juice mash just with her grip strength. The message was loud and clear. "Got that?" She finished menacingly before letting go pushing the masked individual slightly.

"Wait!" Aang called out. "Who are you?!"

It was too late. She was gone.

xxxxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621233046237184000/sunburn-prince-zuko-6

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621143805670948864/sunburn-prince-zuko-4

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #prince Zuko fanfic #prince Zuko x oc #zuko #oc #Zuko x oc #Zuko x reader #avatar fanfic #atla #avatar #katara #sokka #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #wattpad

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gingerreggg · 4 years ago

Text

Written in Stone (Jonawagon AU)

(hey gingerreggg it’s desiree237, i found your tumblr! i commented on your post on AO3 about a jonawagon fic that your Hands of Life AU reminded me of, but as i don’t have a working AO3 as of the moment i searched for your account so you can see it as i found it. enjoy :D )

**resending this cause i think tumblr ate it the first time T_T**

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

“Isn’t he magnificent?” said Speedwagon with a sigh, as he overlooked the plot of land that was once the Joestar Mansion. This old, hallowed ground had seen greater days, long since forgotten, as times had changed in the fifty years that had passed, and, formerly the site of a desperate struggle of good against evil, was now but an unassuming public park– a park where children played blissfully unaware of the drama that had played out here many decades ago.

Speedwagon’s tired old eyes, however, focused on the park’s centerpiece: a towering monument of none other than the truest friend and noblest soul Speedwagon had ever known: Jonathan Joestar. Carved of polished white marble by Speedwagon himself and standing over eight feet in height– far taller than Jonathan had been in life– the monument was sculpted in his perfect likeness, his noble, handsome face gazing bravely into the distance as he brandished a sword, a chrome-tinted replica of the one Jonathan bore, silently posed in a stance of fearless combat.

It took years, many years, of hard labor from Speedwagon’s part. But he felt it was all worth it. Carefully, lovingly, he had chipped away at the marble block bit by miniscule bit, slowly but surely recreating the figure, the face, of a man so worthy of admiration.

Of a man who, by his own selflessness, was gone forever– but deserved to be remembered by those who were not fortunate enough to have known him as closely as Speedwagon had.

A tear streamed from Speedwagon’s eye as eight-year old Joseph, Jonathan’s grandson, tugged at Speedwagon’s sleeve. “Uncle Speedy? Who is that statue, anyway?”

His query broke Speedwagon’s heart a little. Poor Joseph never knew his grandfather. And Jonathan…he perished on the day of his honeymoon: never to hear his child’s voice, see his face, or partake in the joy of his son becoming a father himself. A family who had to grow in his absence.

So much had been lost that day.

Speedwagon wiped away a tear with a sniffle. “That, Joseph, is your grandpa, Jonathan. He was the strongest, bravest, gentlest man I ever knew. He would have loved to have met you,” he said to Joseph, lovingly ruffling the little boy’s messy brown hair.

“I wish I’d met him too,” little Joseph piped up.

“I wish…” Speedwagon sighed, gazing at the gorgeous, but lifeless, face that stared blankly into nothingness. “I wish he was still here.”

The sun was setting, and Speedwagon knew Joseph had to go home soon, as at his age he was still going to school, and thus needed to go to bed early.

“Jorge?” Speedwagon called out to his companion at the park. “Would you mind taking Joseph home with you? I just…need to stay a little longer,” he sighed, sadly.

“Sure thing, Uncle Robbie,” grinned Jorge. “Joseph? Jojo! It’s time for us to come home!” he hollered, calling his son back to return home for the night, after a long day at the park.

And soon, Speedwagon was all alone, as night began to fall.

Fifty years. It had been fifty years since he had lost Jonathan. He had left that fateful day, on what had been meant to be the happiest day of his life, with Erina, and Speedwagon couldn’t have been more proud to see him off. But then came the tragic news: that the ship had gone down in flames– and that Jonathan was dead. Speedwagon felt a heavy guilt in his heart. That he had been absent when Jonathan needed him. And now, he would never see his face again, only in stone, and in his memories.

It was so long ago, but his heart still hurt. He loved Jonathan more than anyone else. Perhaps as a true friend. And perhaps…even more.

Sitting sadly by the statue’s pedestal, he gazed up at his marble creation. He marveled at its perfection, and reveled in Jonathan’s memory, so fresh and bright in his mind, that had allowed him to shape such a facsimile of his fallen friend. How could someone forget somebody like Jonathan? So beautiful in both body and heart, forever etched as a tantalizing, bittersweet memory in Speedwagon’s soul.

“If only you could see us now, Jojo,” he whispered to the statue, running his hand mournfully over its smooth, marble fingers. “If only you could talk, and tell me how you feel about all I’d done in your honor.” He began to weep, his tears landing on the statue’s polished feet. “I miss you, old chap.”

“I wish you were still with us.”

Unknown to Speedwagon, a brilliant streak of light arced across the heavens above, flashing for a moment and vanishing in the darkness. Some called them meteors. But to others, they were known by a more hopeful moniker: wishing stars.

“I wish I had you back, Jojo.”

Suddenly, to Speedwagon’s surprise, the ground began to shake, rumbling beneath him and rustling the trees of the park, which swayed ominously as the terrified old man glanced around in a panic.

“An earthquake…” Speedwagon gasped. He had to get to safety, somehow. Seeking shelter beneath a sturdy bench, Speedwagon dashed for cover, crouching down in terror under the bench as the entire park was rocked by tremors of the earth itself. He hoped Jorge and Joseph were somewhere safe.

And then, he heard a loud cracking noise, and his heart sank like a stone at sea.

Before his horrified eyes, the feet of Jonathan’s statue broke loose from the pedestal. For a moment the statue remained upright, as defiant and proud as Jonathan had been– and then slowly, it began to tilt and fall, and Speedwagon could only watch in grief and horror as his magnum opus, his tribute to a lost beloved, came crashing down to the ground with a colossal thud.

“No,” Speedwagon tried to say, but no sound came out of his lips.

As the shaking came to a halt Speedwagon scrambled out of his hiding spot and rushed to the pedestal, his heart pounding, his chest heaving. Years of work, destroyed in moments. Just like Jonathan had been. Gone in an instant.

But as he bent over to assess the damage, he saw something that he couldn’t have forseen. The statue was intact, save for the sword that had fallen from its grasp, but it seemed to have changed its position. He had carved his figure in noble repose, but now it lay sprawled pitifully upon the ground. Speedwagon blinked. Perhaps he was just imagining things. Perhaps he was hallucinating from his emotional pain.

And right at that moment, he heard a voice– a voice he never thought he would ever hear again.

“W-where…am I?” came a deep, rich voice that seemed to emanate from the statue itself.

Jonathan’s voice.

And before his eyes, as his jaw dropped in a mixture of fear and amazement, he beheld something that should have been impossible, by all rational means: the statue began to move on its own.

Massive marble hands gripped onto the ground while powerful stony arms heaved his bulk upward. His feet, once fixed to the pedestal, had come off clean at the soles, and with two stumbling strides the statue found its footing and rose to its full height: towering above Speedwagon as its head turned to face Speedwagon, a magical, ethereal blue glow illuminating the figure’s eyes.

Speedwagon froze in fright as the stony colossus towered over him. Was the statue possessed by some dark magic, strange wizardry, a demon perhaps? Speedwagon knew, after having witnessed things like a mask that transformed men into vampires, that supernatural happenings were certainly not out of the question. This could be something bad.

And yet, as the statue spoke again, with a familiar, oddly comforting voice, he began to doubt that to be the case.

“S-Speedwagon?” came the voice, as tender and soothing as he’d always remembered it. “Is that…you?” it, or rather, he, asked with hesitant confusion. “Why are you…so small? And…old?”

The statue gazed at his own hands in bewilderment. “What…am I?” he cried out with a note of concern.

Speedwagon glanced up at the towering stony giant, tears welling up in his eyes. “J-Jonathan? Is that you? Is that really you? Please, tell me! Say something only Jonathan would say. Only something he would know! Prove it!” Speedwagon yelled with imcreasing desperation choking up his voice.

“Ogre Street…the mansion…the ship…” mumbled the statue incoherently. “Erina…Dio…the fire…”

Speedwagon began to heave heavy sobs of grief and joy as he listened to the statue listing in confusion, who had sat down onto the pedestal in a state of shock.

“Jonathan…” he wept. “It…it is you…”

He rushed to the statue at once without hesitation and embraced him tightly. His body was hard, and cold, unlike the soft, warm flesh that he knew from Jonathan’s loving embrace, and yet, deep within his heart, in his soul, in the reassuring warmth that rushed through his body upon feeling its touch, that this ponderous being that was before him truly was Jonathan all the same.

“Jojo…Jojo…”, Speedwagon gasped between uncontrollable sobs. “It’s you. You’re back. I don’t know why, or how this is even happening…but you’re back, Jonathan. You’re here.”

Jonathan, still seated on his marble pedestal, shifted one massive marble arm and held Speedwagon close by. His stone grip was hard and strong, and yet Speedwagon felt the same gentle tenderness that he had yearned for for many long decades.

“Where am I?” Jonathan asked again. “My body…it feels like stone. And I am…alive? But…but I died…”

Speedwagon looked up at the living stone figure and met his gaze. His eyes burned bright like a dull azure flame, but even in their ethereal otherworldiness, there was no mistaking the same noble spirit behind the flickering glow.

“I don’t know how to explain this to you, Jonathan, but you indeed are…dead. And it has been fifty years hence since that day. Things have changed, times have passed. I know it’s a lot to take in, Jojo. It surely is for me. Perhaps I can explain later.”

“I…I remember nothing after the fire,” Jonathan replied. “But Erina is safe? And Dio…gone?”

“Yes, Jonathan. Everything is well and good. And we have you to thank.”

As Jonathan sat in silence in the middle of the nighttime park, trying to process his sudden, unusual newfound existence, Speedwagon tightly gripped his hard marble hand and rested his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes in a strange relief.

“Welcome back to this world, Jonathan,” he sighed with a dreamy smile.

“Welcome home.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

#OH MY GOD OH MY GOD #THIS IS AMAZING #I LOVE THIS #MY HEART #THANK YOU #BIG MARBLE BOI JONATHAN #I love your writing big insp #jjba #submission

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queerbutstillhere · 5 years ago

Text

Addressing the Batman Conspiracy theories, on the Wayne Family true crime podcast.

(this is based off of my post. I just had fun with this, and yes it's very chaotic. I hope it makes sense!)

"Welcome, listeners, to this months episode of the Wayne Family Circus-"

"That is NOT what it is called and you know it!"

"Okay okay! Shut up Tim!"

There was a hard cut in the audio. You, the listener, smile and put your car into reverse, backing out of your parking spot, you had a long drive to get home, and hopefully this new podcast will entertain you.

"As I was saying! Welcome to episode seven of Crime In Our Midst - I still hate that name - today we are discussing our most requested case. The Mysterious Batman. We will be discussing where he came from, and conspiracy theories involving him," the voice said, ending with a hum. "Today, I am your host, and for anyone who doesn't know, I'm Dick Grayson, the eldest Wayne child. To my left is our illustrious father, and number one theory for today, Bruce Wayne."

"Dick, I told you I didn't want-" a new, deeper male voice started.

"Next to him is Jason, the second eldest and the wildcard of the family."

"Sup bi*****," was the voice response.

"Master Jason," an older accented voice inputted.

"Sorry Alfie."

"Then we have Cassandra Cain-Wayne."

"Hello!" A chipper female voice said.

"They can't see you wave, Cass."

"Oh, sorry."

"Tim Drake is also present, as always. Tim have you ever missed an episode?"

"No," a softer male voice said with a hum.

"Even Damian has missed."

"Tt, that is because I have a life, unlike Drake."

"I am literally a CEO-"

"And just then you heard Damian Wayne, our youngest and saltiest member. Say Hi, Damian."

"Salutations," a younger sounding, yet still accented voice said.

"So formal," the host, Dick, said with a laugh. "And always, we are moderated by our Butler and Grandfather, Alfred Pennyworth!"

"Hello, listeners."

"And this week, we are joined by special guest, Barbara Gordon, daughter of Ex-Commissioner, Jim Gordon. He's not here in person, because he said, and I quote, 'This is bs and there's no amount of money you could pay me to be on your weird podcast'. To which I would like to counter, Jim, we most likely could pay that amount of money-"

"Grayson, you're rambling again," Damian said, sounding annoyed.

"Why did Dick get to host this episode?" Jason asked.

"Because it's Bruce didn't want to, so it was my turn next, shut up Jason."

"Come at me!"

There was another hard cut and a few seconds of pause. You chuckled, already enjoying this pointless bickering.

"So. We're going to start at the beginning. Batman, the masked vigilante who guards Gotham and battles crime, appeared way back when in the 2000's. He was considered a criminal for a long time, mostly due to his method of fear and violence, despite that he never killed, and solved countless cold cases - much like we do, if I might add -" Dick started explaining, paper could be heard rustling.

"Yeah but we don't dress up in spandex and go out every night and punch people, Dick."

"Okay, obviously, Jason."

There was muffled sniggering and then a grunt as someone got hit.

"Boys, calm down and let your brother finish explaining."

"Thank you, Bruce!" Dick exclaimed, there was the beginning of a yell and then another audio cut.

"Batman eventually became a founding member of the Justice League of America, alongside heroes such as Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern and the Flash. It was around this time his protege, Robin, joined his side for the first time. Batman would eventually become the hero of our city, stopping criminals such as the Joker, Bane, Harley Quinn, the Riddler, and Poison Ivy, whom we all Stan," Dick's smooth voice continued.

"Dick," Bruce warned.

"Continuing! It is believed that Batman has had five or six different Robin's over the years, including two female ones, though neither were Robin for very long. The Batman has become a international, and even interstellar hero, working with the Green Lantern Corp on many occasions. I don't think I need to go into further detail, as almost everyone knows who the Batman is. Now let's get into theories!"

"Oh, finally," Tim said, followed by a muffled yawn.

"Shush, Drake. Let Grayson finish talking."

"Now most the theories are about Batman's secret identity or where he came from, right? And obviously the number one theory is that Bruce Wayne, our dear daddy here, is Batman."

"Do not ever say those words again," Jason groaned out.

"I most likely will."

"Can we all just agree this theory is absolute bulls***?"

"Damian!"

"I am speaking the truth father. I live with you, I can confidentially say you do not spend your nights running around Gotham unless it is in a sports car with some annoying woman-"

"Master Damian."

"My apologies Alfred."

"Can I give the evidence?!" Dick exclaimed.

There was mocking noises, and yet ANOTHER hard audio cut.

"So the main source of evidence is that Bruce Wayne and Batman have never been seen together. Which isn't true, because I have seen, and there is photographic evidence of such, which of course, you can find on our website!"

"The second evidence is something about them having the same a**, which I would rather not go into because of obvious reasons. Third, is all of us kids, somebody on Reddit mapped out all of our arrivals with in a years time of the Robin's arrival, and they think that we are the Robin's."

"Implausible. Have you seen Drake? He couldn't be a Robin, he'd snap right in half. And the second Robin died in an explosions, wouldn't that be Jason?" Damian countered.

"There actually was a kid Bruce fostered for a bit named Jason that actually died in an accident," Dick explained. "People think that Jason is the Robin."

"So we're not going to discuss the fact that you had another kid named Jason?"

"Jason, we've already discussed this a million times, I did not bring you into the family because of your name-"

"Can I continue?!"

"Please," A female voice piped in, Cass.

"Okay, the rest of the evidence is just kinda, fishy, I guess? Someone reports having heard Bruce actively state he was Batman as an excuse to not be on a jury duty, but let's be honest, who hasn't? Lastly is that Bruce Wayne disappears a lot around the time big things are happening, which is quote 'awfully coincidentally.' but circumstantial. An example of this is about five years back, Batman and Bruce Wayne both disappeared for a week, and then when Batman came back, he was reportedly 'different, more cheerful, and more charming. Less threatening', while Bruce Wayne remainder missing. Nearly a year later, Bruce Wayne returned, and Batman once again became gruff and intimidating. Shall we discuss this theory?"

"I don't see what we need to discuss," Damian grumbled.

"It's really not good evidence, but it is a good theory," Tim chipped in.

Jason spoke next. "I haven't been here for long, so it seems plausible to me."

"Jason!"

"What?!"

More bickering. Audio cut. This is getting a little weird with all the audio cuts.

"I think we can all agree that Bruce is not Batman," Cass said finally.

"Dad thinks the Bruce Wayne theory is dumb, and he's been working with Batman since year two. They're nothing alike. He suspected Bruce for a few years, but started seeing them in the same room and area and finally had to drop the theory," another female voice spoke, sounding bored.

"See? So, not plausible, moving on," Damian said dismissively.

The next theory was about some random middle aged man, the whole team thought this one wasn't terribly plausible either.

The third theory was that Batman was some type of alien, and this caused a lot of loud bickering and arguing.

The final theory was that Batman was a vampire, and all the kids seemed to like this theory, while Bruce was less then amused.

"Okay, Bruce, who do you think the Batman is?" Jason asked the second Dick closed out his presentation.

"I think he's a hero who protects the city and the planet, and had saved my life, and the lives of those closest too me, many times. If he wishes to keep his identity secret, then we should respect that the same way we respect Superman and Wonder Woman."

"Boooooo!" Jason and Tim yelled.

"Come on, Bruce. Really, give us an answer."

"Okay, I can't because I do actually know who it is," Bruce admitted.

"WHAT?" Tim screeched.

"You know who the Batman is and never told us?!" Dick exclaimed.

"Did you really miss his speech just now?" Damian asked with a huff. "He obviously wants to protect The Batman."

"You won't tell us?" Cass asked.

"Nope."

More bickering over this for a moment.

"Okay, how many agree with Vampire theory?" Dick asked.

There was a pause in the audio.

"Okay that's four. Any takers on alien theory? . . . No hands. Smith theory? And that's one. Jason and Damian, do you want to elaborate?"

"I still vote for Bruce Wayne theory," Jason said with a sigh.

"OH MY GOD-"

"OW! BRUCE HE PUNCHED ME!"

"BOYS!"

There was muffled speaking and sounds of hitting.

"Damian?"

"I don't like any of the theories."

"Do you have your own then?"

"Not particularly, but I suppose if I would have to give one. . . I believe the Batman is just some random guy with some behavioral and mental issues, and decided that the best way to combat crime, instead of becoming a police detective, was to put on spandex and Kevlar and a bat mask and theme everything after bats."

Dick chuckled. "Well there you have it folks. We finally tackled the Batman conspiracy, now could you please stop flooding our social medias with requests for it? Take that as you may, but obviously, as Bruce said, even if some of our members may know the identity of the Batman, we will not disclose that information, because it's not ours to give away. It's his choice and his privacy, so do not ask us who he is. We will not tell. Guys, anything to say?"

"I'm tired-"

"Tim you're always tired!"

"Ookaaaay! Anyway, next month is Bruce's turn, since we switched, and as always, we'll be putting up a poll on Twitter to see what case you want us to discuss! Until next time, this is the Wayne family signing off!"

"Goodbye."

"Peace out."

"Farwell."

"Death is inevitable."

"Time is a social construct."

"Children- Thank you for listening!"

"Please free me from this hell-"

"And in all the other ways to say it, Goodbye, and Goodnight!"

And you, dear listener, were left to listen to dead silence for a few minutes until you reached your destination, thoroughly confused, and mildly unsettled.

#batfam #batfam headcanons #headcanons #drabbles #drabble #writing #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #barbara gordon #alfred Pennyworth #conspiracy theories #queerbutstillhere #queerbutstillhere writes

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jayankles · 4 years ago

Text

Future Dreamboat: Part 2

Pairing: Time Traveler/40’s!Dean x 40’s!Reader

Word Count: 1350

Summary: Based on 07x12 – Time After Time so yeah. Dean gets thrown back in time, when he needs a break he asks Eliot Ness, where the nearest bar is. A woman is in an alley that needs someone’s help, which just so happens to be Dean’s. Dean has to prove to the reader that he is from the future.

Written for: @spngenrebingo / @/spnonewordbingo

Squares Filled: 1940’s / petticoat

Also written for @sdavid09’s 2020 bingo challenge filling the cannon square.

Future Dreamboat: Part 1

(gif from @secretsandgreeneyes )

“Where did you come from?” You muttered under your breath. There was no way that this man was real.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Y/N.” You could see the pain on his face as a bittersweet smile arose.

You gave him a nervous laugh, “what? Are you from the future?”

Dean’s palms began to sweat, you had hit the nail right on the head. Dean was tempted to scratch at the back of his neck but Ezra would kill him if he messed up his suit or his hair. Instead he shoved his hands into the pockets of his petticoat, shrugging. There was nothing else to say other than to tell you the truth.

“I hate to admit it, and you probably won’t believe me, like I said, but yeah. I’m from the future. 2014 to be exact.”

He was right, you didn’t believe him. There was no such thing as time travel - right?If it were a thing, somebody would have stopped these horrible wars or the bad people in this life, right?

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. You’re talking a lot of nonsense and I demand the truth right now.” You were confused. You needed Dean to tell you that this was all some big joke and he had gone to the cinema and seen too many of those silly movies. “I need you to tell me the truth, prove it, or you can get out of my apartment.”

You were ready to kick him out until he pulled out a small device just a little bigger than his hand. As he pressed a button on the little thing, it seemed to light up.

“This is my cell phone. They make them smaller and portable in the future instead of the one that is attached to the wall 24/7.” He tried to think of something else that wouldn’t damage the future, Dean scoffed forgetting about the ‘time-traveling rules’ by telling you - just one person - but he was going to get you to believe him. “The war ends next year. Hitler offs himself but I think it was foul play.”

“Can I see your cell phone?” You stood, holding out your hand for Dean to place it into your hand. As soon as you had it in your grasp, you inspected the object. “So you can make telephone calls with this. Wherever and whenever you wish?”

“Not just calls, you can send texts - they’re like letters but you can send them on here - you can also take photos, play games.” You thought you heard him mutter something about porn but that couldn’t be right, you didn’t really want to think about it. Maybe he was telling you the truth about being from the future. Being able to do these things just sounded so bizarre and unimaginable. How could this small device be capable of doing so many other devices jobs.

“I can show you something awesome too.” He asked for his phone back, tapping in his password and pulling up the camera, showing you your own face. “This is selfie mode, it lets you take a picture of yourself.”

“That makes sense. It’s a clever name.”

He told you to smile before you saw him press a button on the screen, within seconds he had pulled up the photo of the two of you and you were completely and utterly enchanted by it. It was an instant image of the two of you.

It was hard not to believe Dean after he had shown you his cell phone and told you the results of baseball games, the very near future about the war. Dean had even shown you how fashion had evolved. It wasn’t an incredulous idea that women wore pants, or shorter dresses, or even tops that were cut in half; Dean informed you that they were called crop tops.

You didn’t know whether to be shocked or intrigued about the fashion in the future. It wasn’t too different from now but you still loved that women weren’t subjected to just wearing what men thought was appropriate. You wondered what it would be like to live in that era. How would it be different? Would it be better? Worse?

Your trail of thought was interrupted when you heard him sigh. “There’s something else, isn't there? You’re very jumpy and restless, like someone is after you. Did you anger someone?”

“It’s not a someone per say. It’s a something. Chronos. He is sort of the God of time. He left a trail of bodies in 2014 and when I found him he dragged me here. Now somehow me and my brother have to communicate 68 years apart. That’s where things get difficult.”

It had been days but they were finally able to get through to Sam 68 years from now. He eventually found the house and summoned Chronos with the help of one of his old flames. You were there to witness it and say goodbye to Dean.

“Wild guess-” You heard Dean say. “It takes three kills to juice you up.”

Chronos interrupted with a scoff. “Sacrifices. Three sacrifices, and I can control when and where I land. But once I get there, it’s never for long before I’m tossed through time again. That’s my life, Lila. And all I want is to get back here.”

Eliot choked out a laugh, “because you just love the clean Canton air?”

“Because I love her! Because I lived the worst existence you can imagine, and then I found you.”

Eliot mentioned Tyler Crosby and Cathy Porter but the next thing he says just rises bile to the top of your throat Eliot deduced that Lila was going to be his third and final victim so he could travel again, there was a sadness in his eyes. Maybe he did love Lila but it was still no excuse to murder. He took a step towards the woman in question but Lila was distraught. She knew about Cathy, one of the people that he had murdered.

“You are a monster.”

“No, Lila, please!”

Dean is ready to stab Chronos but the latter sees the movement in Lila’s eyes and ruins the chance Dean had to stop the God, making him drop the stake to the floor. Eliot’s gun goes off. POP. POP. It’s two shots in the back but it doesn’t seem to stop Chronos from grappling Dean by the throat.

There’s a blinding red light, it’s coming from Chronos’ chest and if that doesn’t make you believe in magic and time travelling, you didn’t know what did. From your spot, you wince when Chronos chokes Dean. An idea sparks when you spot the grandfather clock.

11:34.

You find the stake on the floor and throw it to Dean after you get his attention from calling his name, you can’t help it but you scurry over to where the two fight, trying to get Chronos to let go of Dean but there is an explosion of red and white light.

What you hadn’t expected was to be whisked away and thrown into the future. Standing there with Dean, in front of some new people that you had never met before but noting the smiles on all of their faces you deducted that they might just be Dean’s family that he was searching for.

You can’t really hear anything, your ears buzzing. You missed Sam shouting, catching Chronos’ attention before he stabbed in the chest with the stake

Another white light pulses and flickers in Chronos’ chest, travelling up his neck. The God of time drops to his knees, weakened by the dreaded stake to the heart but with his dying breath. Chronos laughs in the faces of the Winchesters. “You want to know your future? I know your future. It’s covered in thick black ooze. It’s everywhere. They’re everywhere. Enjoy oblivion.”

In seconds Chronos is dead, you see Sam and Dean glance at each other, his head dropping down as Jody holds him upright in her lap.

“Oh, fudge sticks. I’m guessing that’s not good.”

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