#edit: damn this doin' numbers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rawrmeansilyindinosawr · 2 years ago

Text

Pooperz

every song i listen 2 from now ONN / mo0bin forwarDDt HAZ to hav the redbone tune underneath it (song can b layered a bunch) n Thtz w NO eggceptions n settling . :-] N if u fuk me thru a soundcloud ad Thts how I kno u love me <3 .!!! i wrote a lil poetry zine on “on loving a trans boy” Cuz. like. idk. Not 2 get 222 personal but (Also if 222 is ur angel number i HATE U AND fuck U!!!!) it diff to experience as a queer person whut it lik to giv someone they T shot n lik actually see them grow n change thru it .!

Part of the poem i wrote (it on my poetry Ig account and tumblR) :

“the first time u intertwine ur body with him u will feel the pain it took for him to get here. yet all the strength. the battle the bruises the scars. u change ur semantics. and pay attention to his movements. resonate with the feeling of familiarity in a body torn open but completely soft. and the clothes are off. and we are both nude. but the vagina still remains an open wound. something u can not bandage. only describe as something reclaimed.”

Deezz NUTZ jk i mean Dis Week ish has been sad n i hav been doin 2 much blow n spiraling upwards Alwayzz n finding out u kan txt tha Suicide hotline now instead of Kall <3 *_* :-D !!!!! Also b4 they connect u with somEoNe they Ask if Ur Gay lmao cuz there a specialist Gay Person who knowz how to talk to u in a better way.?! i Tink watching Ded Poet Society triggered meH LOl. wellbutt anywayZzz.!!!! Nyfw w is overrrrr n I had nothing 2 do wiff it :/] but moi bestie dante Had a styling gig n wuz AMWZINGGGGGG.!!! :3 we went to a fashion show n Skipt line while he farted rly loud < im sry im puttin u on blast rn Babezz. > then blamed iT on Meh which bc of swiss army man A24 movie i WilL take tha blame cuz intimacy exists rly in Flatchulance n also sharing toilet 2gether in the backstage models bathroom of tha Fashion show resNorting old K we find our nostrils then Mixing rando drinkz we find on the makeup tablezz n bein surprised Dere r keBoobZ there n Pb n J sammyz. liK oK go OFF n actually b a professhh Fashion Show…!!!! den we fake watched tha superbowl at Hush in midtown N almost lost Praying”Gods FavZ” purse n i was caught littering my almond chocolate soy Milk on a stripper stage . Run!!!!! also dat E pill wuz rly cute it wuz pink n crown shaped but Wuz everything kinda not as happy and super blurry..!!! ?

Dissh week i also Swuirted to clairo nitecore edition :-]] n h8 havin adhd but at least im kNo how 2 eat salami by the Chub. (thts whut google calls it.) Hehehhehehehehe. gettin moi diagnosis finalized Tmrw hopefully n Gettin on Summ medicinez. im v adhd hyper fixated Rn on ice spice who Wuz also suppoSt 2 pull up 2 dat fashion show we were at butt didn’t. 4 now , everything Reminds meh of her</3 ….. Orange cones on tha st , pepper grinderzz/ shakers (spice) , 5 chinese spice , my friends dog “lunch” boXxx cuz his name rhymes w munch n n n n n Yah lik honestly Everything . ?!.?!

WakiNg Up w Negativez in my account cuz my Boss not bossa Nova forgot 2 paY meH ovEr thA course of Tha Last month N i didn’t even kno til i wuz in my Sexy crushes bed listening 2 Imogen heAp N In Tha Clurbb mixx by Sandalz n they wrote poetry 4 ffivee hours straight n My tummy hurteD fuz i was drinkin truffle SoY saUce from the bottle and i wuz manically checking my Bank statements 2 submit to Snapp HRA crackle Pop Rice Krispieeezzz. Also all of dis happened w a singulaR Vegan Taiwanese green onion pAnc@Ke on the floor on a chacoochie board with bulgolgi and kimchi n more truffle soy sauce . Untouched .

alSo found Untouched by the Veronicas on soundcloud but lik sped up n Holy shit i hav loved this song forever but literally lik YO diss is my heart..?!!!!!! “And I don't give a damn what they say, or what they think, think

'Cause you're the only one who's on my mind

I'll never, ever let you leave me

I'll try to stop time forever

Never wanna hear you say goodbye

I feel so untouched and I want you so much

That I just can't resist you

It's not enough to say that I miss you

And I need you so much

See you, breathe you

I want to be you

You can take, take, t-take, take, time, time

To live, live the way you gotta, gotta live your life

Give me, give me, give me all of you, you

Don't be scared, of seeing through the loneliness

I want it more, more, more

Don't even think about what's right or wrong, or wrong or right

'Cause in the end it's only you and me

And no one else is going to be around

To answer all the questions left behind

And you and I are meant to be

So even if the world falls down today

You've still got me to hold you up, up

And I will never let you down, down”

<33333

Y does it feel like moi crush doesnT like me rn. :-[ N Y do lesbians Always hav the MOST unstable Housing situationZ??? then either wanna UHaul with U or move to ASTORIA .?!? Also i hope all of u make assumptions about my sexuality bcuz i Rly rly rly like whipt cream from the Can , and raw . Emphasis on whiPped. n Cream. n RAWr xD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MEOW MEOW RAWR RAWR GRERRR!!!!!!!!!!!!1 i kant keep rereading the msg i didn’t Send i ended up calling n yelling n Thts whut got meh bLocked. :-[[ Rugratzs .!!! i luv staying up watching movies w my friends ex’s Im tryna get wiff and Accidwntally thinking K is coke and feeling lik SHIT butt watchin every1 giv intense eye contact n cleanin da house n then losing tha dog Lik WHTFFF.?! Then All of a sudden that plug pulls up N everyone is confused N also randomly the guy living upstairs has my iPhone location N pulls downstairs 2 hangs:-]]] i always wonder if I’m popular but in reality i am just breaking oUt on my ForeheAd cuz all i eat is fried Chiggen N moi green haired browneyedd luver looks like invader zimm sometimezz alotta Da time n i think they r SKUTE.!! n i lik their lisp! im SAD sad my 2/2 cis male friend is gOnna print out a sign on his door Dat Says “blood OathinG” with a Red Circle around it n a Line around it basically sayin NOOOOOoooOoOoOoT allowed.!! butt ima blood oath wiffhh invader Jim dish nxt week n it is a PLANZZ.!!

i wrote a poem ab our phone Kall tht has impacted meh m my heart n also this is a snippet of 1 of my poems in my new book i still writing Kalled STRAWBERRY DELIRIUM :-}}”my friends don’t wanna die anymore they wanna live . they don’t wanna slip away to shreds with fentanyl test strips. they still wanna snort k n apologize for being gay but we all r human longing for all of this…” N another poem tht explainzz this blog title. Cuz i luv my fwendz n shared a moment in which we found popperz.

“Felt that rush on my head

as i laid in ur bed

and found a vile hidden

under ur pillow

u laugh and i manically panic

turning bright lite crimson red

And when it spills all over ur arms

drip dropping like tap water

i snort it all off ur arms

and i h a t e the way it makes me feel

similar to the feeling like ill fall

when im in my platform shoes

going up n down ur spiral stair case that looks like slices of cheesecakes

and u sigh scream cuz u never liked them at all

and hate is a strong word but so is love

And i hate the way the poppers make me feel

but i do love you “

okIkkkKkkkKkk i kinda hate that poem but whatever. sooo Vday wuz cute it is n0T only single awareness day but reflecting on ur situationsjips day n feeling sad ab it day but whatev. NormalZe watching cHaterbAte on the subWay n mindIng ur FooOoking Business?..!! my Friends say if i were a sammicH i wuld b a caprese. butt i feel like a ruben. #misunderstood <\3 i hav been watching SM hellokitty n Fwendzz n realized am kuromi and hello kitty is my friend .!!! N i listen to metal N rock w my headphonezz Real Hi n Loud n mak moi own clothes .! N i hav a crush on badtzmaru cuz they look like a penguin dyke n their gender is X.!! <3 <3 �� 🫶🏻👩🏻‍❤️‍👩🏻 they r epitome of sapphic Desirezz n untoxic uhaul luv<3 :-]

tIL nxt week.?? Carl wheezer luver n Cali King bed listener on Max volume on subway N my big three is adderal sun , ketamine moon , cocaine rising <3 Also no i did NOT clog tha toilet at a house party after party this week N no i did not need help unclogging it N no i don’t even poop or do popperz cuz i’m PERFECT…!!!!!!!<333

Xoxo,

Rennybabycutebabyangel plz buy my clothes n ask ab my story sale / failed depop. :-]

#blog

0 notes

corisanna · 5 years ago

Text

Mirrors Ranking 3 Begins

The Story of a Casual Player

“I maxed out some new girls and Memoria, let’s see what overhaul of a team I can put together.”

“Hmm, hmm, let’s try this. Let’s warm up in normal Mirrors first.”

“Wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllp. Guess everyone’s bringing out their A-game teams now LOL guess I’m just gonna get slaughtered in Rankings RIP let’s at least have some fun with this.”

<10-BATTLE WINNING STREAK, ALL AT THE HIGHEST OPPONENT LEVEL>

#high points too since last time finally taught me that Mirrors Ranking likes combos #I'mma get crushed tomorrow I just know it LOL at least this was cool LOL #I call myself casual despite being a daily player because I dgaf about the math to optimize performance most of the time #I'm glad I uncapped Asuka because DAMN she doin gud for me #Magia Record #MagiReco #number of battles edited because i am a dumb and forgot how many; it was all wins

6 notes · View notes

battybatzgirl · 3 years ago

Text

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary:

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She��s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

58 notes · View notes

tefilovesreading · 4 years ago

Text

It’s a match! Part. 2

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None, language but that’s it.

A/N: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 3

“What do you mean he sent you a good morning text?” Jo asked, almost choking on her toast.

“He asked for my number last night,” Y/N explained, her hands shaking while she tried to unlock her phone, “and when I woke up, I had a text from him saying good morning and wishing me a good day.”

“Damn the boy is a keeper,” her friend whistled and winked at her after she read the message.

“He told me he wanted to FaceTime.”

She sat on the stool next to where her best friend was sitting and rested her chin on her hand. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like hundreds of bees buzzing fiercely in there.

“And you?” Jo questioned with an intrigued look on her face, “do you wanna do it?”

“I think so,” Y/N answered, biting the inside of her cheek, “he’s really cute, and I had fun texting last night.”

“Well that’s a new one,” the ginger girl joked. All their friends knew how much Y/N hated texting, leaving messages on read for days, or taking absolutely forever to respond. She always felt weird texting, not knowing very well how to keep the conversation going over text.

“Tell him you have thirty minutes, and then you have to go do something else,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and Jo rolled her eyes, “that way if you don’t feel comfortable you have an easy exit.”

“And what if I’m enjoying it?” Jo looked at her as if she was trying to explain how the water cycle worked to a kid, “Jo I’m being serious!”

“In that case, my love, you hang up and call him again after you tell me everything.”

“Who said I was gonna tell you anything, uh?” Y/N smirked and blew her a kiss after her friend gave her an offended look.

“Whatever, Y/N,” Jo flipped her off, “just tell him your professor was sick or something like that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, did I tell you that?” Y/N kissed her friend’s cheek and then jumped off, “I’m gonna go take a shower, see you later.”

“See you later, babe,” Jo said, “don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t!” Y/N yelled, on her way to the bathroom they shared.

Y/N: Good morning! Hope you have a great day too

She smiled satisfied at her reply and hit the send button.

Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she felt so giddy about a guy, it was exciting, to say the least. Charlie seemed like an easygoing person and really easy to talk to. Sure she was nervous talking to him, but who wouldn’t? The guy was super cute and so nice to her, she already knew she’d be crushing hard.

Thirty minutes later, she was on her way to class with time to go to her favorite coffee shop and have a quick breakfast.

Charlie: Didn’t think you’d answer me so early hahaha Y/N: I have a class in like 20 minutes, wouldn’t have woken up this early if i didn’t have class lol Charlie: So you’re not a morning person Y/N: Oh no, absolutely not!!

She smiled at the boy in the cashier and laughed softly when he asked her if she was ordering the same thing she always did.

“Oh, can you add a brownie please?” Y/N asked politely, while she looked for her card on her bag. After paying for her food, she went to one of the tables in the back.

Charlie: Noted! I swear i try to not wake up early but i can’t Y/N: I bet you’re the kind of friend that wakes everyone up with a lot of noise Charlie: How did ya know that hahahaha Y/N: I was just guessing, but you do seem like a loud person Charlie: I am, i won’t try to deny it Charlie: What about you?? Y/N: Mmm Y/N: It depends Y/N: But my laugh is extra loud, so I can’t say I’m a quiet girl

“Vanilla latte!” Y/N put away her phone and stood up to get her order.

“Thanks, Dylan,” she thanked the boy and grabbed a few napkins before making her way back to her table.

Charlie: I bet your laugh is really cute

Her cheeks were burning after that message, and it took her a couple of minutes to tame the butterflies in her stomach before she was able to type a response. Because as much as she wanted to laugh it off and change the topic, she knew he was flirting with her and if she didn’t flirt back, their conversation was basically dead.

Y/N: Guess you’ll have to find out yourself ;).

That was a nice reply, right? She screenshotted their chat and sent it to Jo. If anyone knew how to flirt while texting, it was her best friend.

Y/N: How does it look? Is it too much?? Too little?? Y/N: H E L P

Jo’s response was quick as always. One of the many reasons she loved her.

Jo: Girl it’s fine Jo: Stop worrying about it Jo: It’s mysterious and a good way to tell him you wanna FaceTime Y/N: Ok ok thank you love ya Jo: Love you more

Checking the hour on her phone, Y/N finished her bagel and gathered her stuff. She waved Dylan goodbye and left the coffee shop. She spent more time than she expected to in there and if she didn’t hurry she’d be late for class.

It was times like this one that made her regret not knowing how to drive because even if all her classmates liked the Lyft program they had for free, she still felt unsafe getting in the car without a friend.

Back in the day, when she was still dating Lance, he’d made sure to call her and talk to her during the whole ride to wherever Y/N needed to go just to make her feel safe. After all, he was never a bad boyfriend, their paths just went in different ways and they both wanted different things in life.

Charlie: Yeah i guess Charlie: What if i call you later when you’re done with your classes??Charlie: No pressure

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks for the second time in less than an hour and had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling.

Y/N: Sure, i’ll let you know once i’m done Y/N: But i have to say bye for now Y/N: Gotta pay attention haha Charlie: Get that degree! Charlie: Talk to you later!

Focusing on whatever her professor was saying was a hard task, she just wanted to pull her phone out and text Charlie, see what he was up to and get home as soon as possible, so they could FaceTime.

Sitting on the edge of her seat, she couldn’t help but bounce her leg to relieve the eagerness rushing through her veins. She still had fifteen minutes left, and then she’d be sprinting out of the classroom and going back to her apartment.

“Dude, do you gotta use the bathroom or what?” Sadie, the girl she always sat with during class, whispered through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” she apologized, crossing her legs to stop herself from bouncing her leg. Although the new position didn’t stop her from moving her foot.

“What’s up with you?” Sadie snorted once she realized Y/N couldn’t sit still.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly, scribbling on her notebook the pages she needed to read for the next class, “I just wanna go home.”

“But you have never been this eager to leave this class,” the girl commented without looking at her, too focused on taking notes, “you love this class.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N let out a sigh and checked the hour on her watch, “I just don’t feel like sitting here right now.”

Her classmate didn’t make another comment about her eagerness to leave the classroom, she just nodded her head as if she was telling her she understood.

“I think that’s all for today, guys,” the professor mentioned, leaning on the desk, “have a good day, and don’t forget to read the articles I mentioned.”

Y/N hurried to gather her things and waved Sadie goodbye before walking as fast as she could to the door. She needed to leave before the halls flooded with students. Y/N considered taking the stairs instead of the elevator but knowing how clumsy she could be, she opted for the latter. Falling down the stairs wasn’t on her plans.

Twenty minutes and a mile later, she dropped her keys on the bowl next to the door of her apartment and kicked off her shoes. She checked her out in the full-length mirror Jo had in their living room and shrugged. Charlie knew she was a college student, and it wouldn’t be weird to see her wearing a hoodie with her college’s logo, also, she was comfy and didn’t want to change into something else.

She fixed her hair and made sure she didn’t have smudged mascara under her eyes and then made herself comfortable on the couch.

Y/N: Just made it home

Y/N: That was one hell of a long class haha

She bit her nails, the nervousness kicking in while she waited for a response from Charlie. Maybe he was busy now that she wasn’t. God if their schedules didn’t let them at least FaceTime, she felt like she’d start crying and delete the app. It wasn’t like she was talking to other guys though.

Charlie: Finally!! Charlie: Wanna FaceTime?? Or are you tired?

“Fuck no,” she whispered to herself before she started writing her reply.

Y/N: Nah! Let's FaceTime

Her heart started pounding on her chest when the video call entered and the phone started vibrating in her hand.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed before putting a smile on her face and answering the call. “Hey!”

Holy shit. His pictures didn’t make him justice.

“How you doin’?” Charlie said and her cheeks blushed.

“It’s that a Friends reference?” she asked trying to hide her smile.

“I swear I don’t mean it in that way,” he laughed, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made her heart flutter. “But seriously, how was your day?”

“It was good even though I hate waking up early,” the way Charlie was looking at her with so much attention, even if it was through a screen it made her feel so confident, “I had breakfast at this little coffee shop near my apartment and then went to class.”

“But that sounds like a nice morning,” Charlie mentioned, his sweet smile never leaving his face.

“What were you up to anyway?”

“Not much actually,” he shrugged and the gesture made him look young, “I went for a run, then I had to film some tapes for a few auditions, and now I’m chilling.”

“You’re an actor,” Y/N pointed out, not even surprised about the new information he just revealed. It was Los Angeles after all.

“I am,” he smiled, and she swore she could see a pink tint on his cheeks, “I started back in Canada when I was about fourteen or fifteen.”

“Any chances I’ve watched it?” Charlie scrunched his nose and shook his head.

“Maybe, if you are into foreign films,” Y/N tilted her head confused at his answer, “It’s in French.”

“You learned how to speak in French for the movie?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows together when Charlie started laughing.

“I grew up speaking French and English,” he explained with a soft smile, “I’m French Canadian.”

“That makes a lot more sense now,” she laughed off her embarrassment, “I’m gonna blame the fact that I woke up early today. I’m not this dumb, I swear.”

“Don’t worry,” he said and the smile faded just enough for her to notice his intense stare, “I thought it was cute.”

She bit her lip at his words and tried to look away from the screen, but Charlie’s eye contact felt as if he was looking right into her soul and she couldn’t break that connection even if she wanted to. And she definitely didn’t want to do that.

tagged: @chevyimpala00067 @samanthawilliamspring @searchingunderthestars @luke-patt @moneybagmgk @angisbr @happinessinthedarkesttimes @knitsessed @cordeliascrown @crybabyddl @phantompogues @the-romanian-is-bae @doaspeggy-says

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fluff #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie

235 notes · View notes

spacial-girl · 5 years ago

Text

Till Death Do Us Part - Thomas Shelby x Reader

setting: season 3

word count: 2535

smut: no

proofread: no

edited: no

notes: 3rd person! More from Tommy's perspective- involves death, death by illness, swearing, angst, sadness, it's sad. I started writing this before quarentine begun/lockdowns ensued and this was the only fanfic I really liked out of the drafts I’m unsure of posting. But it’s better than nothing I suppose! It's pretty unfortunate the times we live in now- while in quarantine I've started a number of chapters I have to finish edit still- I'll try to post them as soon as I can. But wow!! I hit 1k reads (on wattpad)! This is amazing! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my writing! I love you all :)

"Thomas," Micheal was out of breath, coughing and spluttering as he doubled over, his cap pulled from his head and clutched in his hands. He had run with such urgency and intensity that his lungs burned- like the first time he smoked a cigarette. He took deep gulps and breathed heavily, feeling his mothers comforting hand rubbing his back to help him breathe. He straightened, still gasping for air as his older cousins eyes met his. There was blood on his face- a cut on his cheek just under his eye with some purple swelling, as well as splattered on his face, clearly from the almost corpse sitting in the chair in front of him, "It's happening," he choked,

"What is?" Thomas asked. There were few things that scared Thomas Shelby, king of Birmingham, nowadays and one of them was not knowing things. When his answer didn't immediately make an obvious connection to anything happening around him at the moment, his heart begun to thump in his chest and ears. He almost couldn't hear Micheal over the drumming,

"She's... Got really bad Tom," his words were airy and breathy, but stress laced them together, "Worried 'bout you-"

"What did you fuckin' tell her!?" Fear and rage overtook him, the clatter of the razor he used to threaten the man on the chair echoed through the halls of the basement they were in, blood splattering off it,

"I said nothin'!" Micheal yelled back, the same emotions filling him as his cousin begun to walk towards him, his face darkening, "She... She was sayin' she ain't seen you in ages. That she's worried 'bout you and what's happenin' to you. I tried... I tried to tell 'er you were doin' your business but she started cryin' Tom. Proper sobbin'. Heartbroken. Then she started coughin' up blood," He shook his head; Thomas noticed his eyes squeezing shut as if the image flashed before his eyes, "A-and she said she couldn't breathe, so I called the doctor in. Your telephone wires are down and I couldn't phone you," He quickly informed as Thomas took a sharp inhale. He closed his mouth, his lips in a tight scowl, "I dunno how she is now, but you should-" Tom grabbed his blazer from the hook he had discarded it on and was already striding past Micheal,

"Arthur, clean up the fuckin' body," He could feel his hands beginning to shake as he ran up the stairs and out the door of Small Heath. He slammed the door to his car and drove out of the shithole he once called his home. The overwhelming urge to smoke filled him, and he cursed under his breath. This all had to coincide in the worst way possible. Not only did he have to deal with the damn Russians, his brothers not listening to him, but also his wife's illness.

And he had to hide all his problems from her, and stay strong.

He parked the car in front of Arrow house and flung the door open, his footsteps thundering through the extravagant home in desperation to get up to her room. It pained him to call their bedroom that but it was true- she was trapped inside the room in fear she would get worse, and he hardly ever slept nowadays, feeling like they were always watching him, studying his every move. Perhaps why he was fueled by rage. He pushed past the doctor and reached for the door to her room when he felt an arm on his shoulder. It took him all the strength he could muster to not turn and punch him,

"Mr Shelby-" His voice was wavering, clearly in fear at the enraged man before him, "Mr Shelby, could I please ask you to calm down before seeing her?" His tone changed to quiet, and Tom sighed, his tense shoulders only dropping by a bit. He wasn't entirely calm, but when it came to his wife, he would bend heaven and earth to make sure she was alright. He sighed and turned to the doctor, looking down so the peak of his cap covered his eyes,

"What happened?" He demanded, his voice a low growl. The doctor visibly shaking, let out a breath and gulped,

"W-Well, Mr Shelby, Mr Micheal called me in saying your wife couldn't breathe and was coughing up blood," He explained, "I... Her influenza- her sickness-"

"Y'don't have to speak to me like I'm a fuckin' imbecile," Tom snapped, before sighing, "Get on with it,"

"Yes! Her uh, influenza, developed into something worse. Tuberculosis, it looks like. She's also incredibly weak- she can hardly breathe. I," his voice shook again, "I don't know how long she has left Mr Shelby," The doctor bowed his head, fearing for his own life. A drop of sweat rolled down his head, and Thomas sighed, putting his hand on the door handle and opening it. He lifted his head and met her eyes.

There were heavy bags under them, their usual (Y/E/C) hue was barely visible under the hooded lids, and the corners were wet. Her skin was a sickly pale green, and her lips were pale. Her legs were covered by the bedsheets, which had drops of blood speckled on them in a horrifying way that caused his heart to pound. The blood trailed up on her nightclothes and caused her neck and chin to hold a red hue. She already looked like a corpse.

But when she saw him, it was like she came back to life. Her lips curled up and for a brief moment she sat up straighter, clearly trying to show she had some strength. But he saw how her smile turned to a painful grimace and a sigh escaped her lips, unable to hold herself up. He watched as she fell back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut. He took quick, long strides and got to her bedside just as her eyes opened,

"Thomas," Her voice sent shivers up his spine, and he felt his skin crawl. He couldn't hear the beauty of her full voice- it was only reduced to a broken, hoarse whisper. Delicately, he sat next to her, taking her porcelain hand in his own. His heart thudded in his ears; it was cold and heavy in his own, "I'm," She swallowed, causing him to look at her face, "I'm glad you're home," She rasped, "How was your day?"

"(Y/N), you look terrible," His voice, for once, betrayed him. Thomas stared into deaths eyes and spat in its face, walked away from a war that lingered on in his head, cut out eyes, tongues and ears. But when he stared into the eyes of his dying wife, he felt unimaginable fear. Tears rapidly spilt down his cheeks. Her face looked shocked and he felt her hands twitch in his own. She wanted to wipe his face clean of the remorse and guilt that rippled through him. He leaned closer to her, his head touching her thin shoulder and his body shaking with sobs.

"Thomas!" Her gentle voice brought him out of a horrifying nightmare. He wildly looked around, heaving as he sat up. Her soft hands wrapped themselves around his shaking shoulders, "Thomas, calm down! It was just a nightmare," She reassured him. Her hair tickled his bare skin as his mind adjusted to what happened. He sighed, burying his face in his hands,

"For fuck's sake," He hissed,

"Tommy- it's okay," Her calming voice slowed his heart. His head snapped up to look at her as she yawned. She shook her head slightly, and smiled tiredly, "Thomas, it's alright-"

"I woke you up,"

"I don't care,"

"But you're tired-"

"So are you," He huffed at her stubbornness, rolling his eyes and straightening, letting himself fall back on the pillows. Her teeth flashed white, catching the moonlight in the darkness. She was proud of herself, winning against a Shelby in as simple as a disagreement like this meant everything to her. His own lips curved up into a smile and he looked away from her, shaking his head,

"(Y/N)," he hummed,

"What?" she asked innocently,

"I know you're tired. You shouldn't have to get up like this, in the middle of the night," he said seriously,

"Tom, looking after the kids is-"

"Exhausting?" He smiled. He watched her throw her head back and huffed, hiding her smile baldly,

"No," He raised his brows, "Not always," He shook his head, "Besides, I like lookin' after 'em. They're cute," She smiled, "And I don't work as hard as you. I don't even get to see you- that's how hard you work," she watched his expression change. He wouldn't meet your eyes after. He seemed transfixed by the night sky glittering outside, "Tom?" He looked at her but quickly averted his gaze quickly. A sigh left his lips,

"I don't deserve you, (Y/N). I really don't," Is all he said, giving her a genuine smile. She crawled into his arms then, and he held her tightly. She was the only one keeping him sane at this point. You looked after everything- him, his children, their children. She was more a mother to them than he was a father, and he couldn't have asked for more.

It broke his heart to watch the light leave her, and he could physically ripping apart as he realised he was powerless.

"Thomas," her voice had only a slither of life left in it. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at her, but looked away quickly. A sigh left her pale lips, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched her lifting a hand up. It shook and wavered unsteadily, and he readied himself for her cold pale hand to touch his skin. Instead, she swiped the peaked cap off his eyes, carefully of the blades, and set it down on the bed, "Couldn't see your eyes,"

He shivered and shut his eyes as she did, leaning into her cold but loving touch. He felt her hands while the wetness of his cheek, tracing his cheekbones delicately. The fear built up more and more- it felt like feathers were gliding along his cheeks, causing more tears to spill from his eyes. When they made eye contact again, he could see the candle in her eyes flickering in a gale of harrowing winds; his own reflected pain and hurt. And while her body ached and she barely breathed, she smiled, "Terrible isn't a compliment," And she still joked. The pain in his heart grew and grew by the seconds he shared with her, and he doubled over, head falling in her lap and body racking with sobs.

Perhaps if he had fucking listened to her, she wouldn't be here. Stuck at home for almost a whole year, unable to leave in fear of worsening her illness. No one suspected it'd be this dangerous at first- they all thought it was a common cold. Tom was the first to realise she wasn't getting better,

"(Y/N)?" He asked, worry lacing his voice. She gasped, spinning around and a grin spreading across her painted red lips. No one ever visited anymore, and he reminded her time and time again she didn't have to wear makeup to impress him. But she felt beautiful,

"Thoma!" She exclaimed, watching expectantly as he climbed up the stairs to meet her, "Thought you weren't coming back till tomorrow?" her voice was so full of joy, but he could tell she was tired,

"Change of plans," He placed a hand on her back when she pulled away, planting a kiss to her cheek and inhaling her sweet lavender scent, "You look tired,"

"Tired isn't a compliment, Tom," She laughed, walking up the stairs with him. Goddamn it. She was too good at that- hiding her true feelings. And it bothered him but deep down, he couldn't say anything. He wasn't exactly the most open man himself. Her laughs, however, soon broke into coughs and wheeze, "Happens every time I try and walk the stairs," she choked out.

He picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to their room, setting her on the bed. And, while entangled in kisses and moans he so foolishly fell into, he forgot. He fucking forgot.

Her choking caused him to sit up. Her hands filled with blood sh desperately tried to stop spilling from her mouth and onto his expensive suit, but to no avail. Speckles littered the white material, and his eyes widened. It was haunting.

He quickly reached and grabbed an already blood-soaked handkerchief from the bedside table, watching her choke on her own blood. Once she finished, he took the cloth from her, setting it back on the table and grabbing her hand again. He leaned in and kissed her head, his forehead pressed to her own. His thumb swiped the corner of her lip, whipping the blood away. Their eyes met, full of pain, longing and love,

"Tommy," There was no distinction between her whispering and her normal tone anymore, the privacy eliminated, "Thomas Shelby, I really do love you," she said. He felt her hands on his cheeks again, caressing his skin,

"(Y/N) it's all my fucking fault," He said, "I should have been there for you-"

"You were busy-"

"I could have taken a fucking break to be with you," He said sternly, "I'm not going to let you sit there and make excuses for me-"

"So you'll just sit there and let me die?" He hated her bluntness. And he hated her honesty. But most importantly, he hated that she had given up. And he hated the confirmation she gave him. He tightened the grip on his shoulder, wanting so desperately to ground her and not let her leave him. He didn't want to accept this reality, "Thomas," He shook his head, "Tom," Her voice cracked, and so did his heart, "Tom, do you love me?"

"Yes," He whispered, pulling away to see her face. A smile tugged on her lips, ""I do love you, (Y/N)," He confirmed. Panic filled him as she closed her eyes, "I'm not letting you die,"

Every sentence that left Tommy's lips was carefully calculated, learning during the war to think ahead and plan everything to the finest detail. So it shocked them both when he suddenly blurted it out. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, before smiling and moving her head slightly,

"Tom, you're not letting me. This isn't you decide to make," She said, her eyes drifting closed once again, "My death is inevitable, as if yours, as is Charlie's, as is Ruby's, as is Polly's, as is Arth-"

"It shouldn't fucking be," He grumbled, "You shouldn't be... Dying,"

One last smile, "My my," she sighed deeply, humming, "I've lived long enough to see something I never thought could happen," she mumbled, her already weak tone fading rapidly, "To see something not go as Thomas Shelby had planned,"

Her breathing faded, and her slow movements halted. Thomas stopped functioning for a moment, desperately hoping this was a joke she was pulling on him. As he pressed a hand to her chest, his broken sobs filled his silent room.

She was gone. She was really gone.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinders x reader #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby angst #Tommy Shelby #tom shelby #tom shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #angst #tommy shelby angst #sad

194 notes · View notes

justjessame · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 52

I was sitting with Frenchie, Kimiko was going over the footage from the drones with Billy, helping him edit it with more precision and a better eye than most people would think to give her credit to have, and I was explaining the issue that I had after my chat with Grace about the chips.

“So what you’re saying,” he was squinting at me, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing ME. “Is that Ryan has trios chips, but Mallory doesn’t believe that they were placed there to track him?” I nodded, still not quite sure he was paying attention to my image. “What would be l’ objet then?” His eyes narrowed, as though it would help him grasp the answer to the same problem I had issues finding the solution for. “Chips, they are used to track, to listen, to -” his eyes widened, and then he refocused on me. “Is there someone here, in the building,” he clarified, “that knows more about tech?”

“Yes,” I’d looked up our in-house technology guru, wanting to know their name, just in case I had to tap their shoulder next. “Carrie Stavos.” I grabbed my desk phone and hit the extension I’d memorized that morning. “Stavos? Yes, this is Dr. Taylor, could you come to my office? Of course, finish that up and come up after.” I signed off with the young sounding woman and hung up. “She has to finish up with -” It was my turn to squint. “I’m sure you’d understand what she’d explained,” my lips quirked and Frenchie smirked in answer. “She’ll be here when she finishes up, in about ten minutes.” I checked my watch. “That gives me a chance to go through some emails, and you can check on those two -” I nodded toward Billy’s desk where he and Kimiko were working in almost complete silence, but their heads were close and they were both taking turns clicking and moving the mouse.

While Frenchie slid over to Billy’s side, I clicked through emails, finding one from an unknown source with a video file included. Great, fabulous, just what my day needed, more shit. First I put the email through the handy dandy backward trace, thinking that my new fan would need to learn quickly who they were dealing with and what type of fun resources I had at my fingertips. The video I sent to the security systems, they could look to see where it originated, who saved it, and then hopefully who forwarded it to me.

While those systems were running, I answered the more mundane of my correspondences. The yeses and the nos, the requests, and the denials. I had to imagine that I wouldn’t have the answers to my mystery email by the end of the day, normally anonymous emails took anywhere from forty-eight hours upward to backtrack, so I was shocked when I got the telltale ping that signaled they’d run it through the available programs and they had my answers.

Clicking open the report, I sat back as I read it. The email had originated from our office, from one of the mailroom email accounts. This account is utilized by anyone who can access the mailroom, which means literally anyone who can gain entrance into the building. The mailroom computer isn’t secure. It holds nothing classified, so needs no password to log on. Great, that’s fun.

The video, I read on, was also from our building. My office, it went on to be more precise, on the date of my hemmorage. When I nearly went nuclear and wiped out EVERYTHING. It was time stamped from the moment I swiped in that morning until an hour after I’d been rushed to the undisclosed clinic. The security person who had backtracked the feed and written this piece of the report said that only our people should have access to the feed, and only the people with security clearance of those in the video storage and above should be able to clip, edit, and share it through our systems. The clearance numbers used, however, match nothing they could find.

I sighed and sat back, somewhat surprised that Billy didn’t hightail it to my desk, but he was muttering with Frenchie about something in their footage. Why this video, I wondered? Why now?

Putting the headset on that I kept on hand, just in case I needed it for something as tasteless as this, I took a deep breath to fortify myself and clicked play.

Have you ever watched yourself nearly die? I don’t mean figuratively, but literally see a video of you come within inches of death? There are films, entire movie series that have that trope. Escaping death, only for it to continue to come for you, wanting nothing more than to make sure the balance is kept even.

As I watched the video of the day I walked into our office, so full of certainty that I’d fixed it, I’d fixed the massive fucking disaster of a personal invasion that Homelander forced on me I felt bile start to rise in my throat because of the surreal quality of it. Hearing my voice say the words that I barely recalled saying to Billy come out of my mouth. Seeing me do things that I still take for granted, the mundane day to day shit, things that I knew within moments would become things I’d pray I could do again.

Seeing Billy go for our lunch, the rolling in my stomach grew, a pain reminiscent of what I’d felt before. I knew what was coming, but to see it from THIS angle? It was as if I HAD died, and this would have been my view - what I would have seen while people rushed inside. Wait-- How had they rushed in?

I clicked back, the rush of the blood down my legs my starting point. I hadn’t made a sound, but Billy mentioned that my temperature had gotten so high that I’d set off an alarm, which alerted security. Why didn’t I hear it on the video? The alarm didn’t start until the first three people came in, faces I didn’t recognize, and none of whom should have been able to enter, since only Billy, Mallory, and I had access aside from Security override. None of this trio had security markers on, and they didn’t look all that rushed. I couldn’t hear their conversation, another redflag, since I heard every other sound, and after a gesture, the alarm FINALLY sounded and then things moved the way they should have.

“Billy?” Calm, that’s how I sounded, which would have shocked me, but by this point nothing was all that surprising. “Could you take a look at something for me?”

Getting Billy calmed down after HE watched the video wasn’t as simple. Frenchie’s eyes were wide enough to see every divot on the moon, and I was contemplating cancelling everything for the rest of the day to distract him the best way I knew how.

“Those three fuckin’ -” how his nostrils could either get so thin that NO air could possibly pass through or so wide that he could inhale ALL of the air in the free world was beyond me, but the true power was how he could do either and make me want to climb him like Mount Everest and - Damn it, Ronnie, get your head in the game. “You coulda died, and they were doin’ fuck all.”

“Actually, they were wasting time,” Frenchie offered, and I could tell he wished he hadn’t. “I meant they were possibly looking for a way to -”

“See how long it would actually take for my self destruct button to engage,” I nodded, why bother fucking lying? “Who are they?” Important question, since clearly that mattered most. “I couldn’t really see their faces, but they don’t look familiar.”

“Knew where the cameras were,” Billy grunted, pulling me onto his lap as he sat in his own chair. “Knew where they were and kept their heads down. Not amateurs. Knew they’d have to raise the alarm too, cause sooner or later, your temperature would and no one could cover that mess up.”

We were considering this newest blip in our nest of blips when the knock came to the door. Kimiko raised her eyebrow at me in question, but I just sighed. “That would be Stavos. The techie guru we asked to consult.” Pulling free of Billy, but not before giving in to a steadying kiss, just to remind one another that at least ONE part of our world was steadfast, I walked to the door to let in what I could only imagine would be MORE bad fucking news.

Carrie Stavos didn’t look like I thought she would. I had a thought that she’d be spiky haired and edgy. Instead she looked more librarian with a hint of a kindergarten teacher tossed in for fun. Glasses perched on her nose, she took in her surroundings with the ease of someone who was used to blending in with the wallpaper. Unfortunately for Carrie, I needed her to be the center of attention.

Once I had her situated in my chair, my laptop out of sight out of mind, I started with the soft balls. First with the types of chips that might be implanted in people, then on to the reasons for the chips. From there we went to more nefarious reasons for chipping people, superbeings for instance.

“Superbeings?” Her eyes widened. “You want to chip supes?”

I shook my head emphatically. “No, I most certainly do NOT want to chip supes.” Couldn’t be further from the truth. “I’m simply asking, if I found out that a particular supe was, in fact, chipped multiple times, what would the purpose aside from GPS be for those chips?”

From wide to narrow slits, thinking hard, I could tell, Carrie was working out the question I’d posed her. “I know that the Seven are chipped, for location, of course.” A tilt of confirmation and understanding on my part kept her going. “If you found that other supes were chipped, and if they had more than one?” Another tilt, and she sighed, her head shaking. “I can only think of one reason and it’s terrible.”

“Terrible?” It was Billy, leaning forward and eager, because while Ryan was his responsibility if something was terrible for a supe, he would like to hear about it.

“Yes, terrible.” Carrie looked a little green around the gills. “I’ve heard of a type of chip, I thought they were like Urban Legends, but maybe not.” A tiny sigh escaped ever as she blanched a bit. “Inhibitors.”

Now my eyes turned to slits as I tried to process this reality. That a chip could be implanted to - no, they wouldn’t have, would they? “Inhibitor?”

“If there’s more than one?” I nodded, barely seeing Carrie as I ran through the list of Ryan’s powers like a scroll. “Each chip could be specific for ONE power, in place to stop that one, hold it at bay. Inhibit the supe from accessing it.” Not training him to use his powers responsibly or control them, but to literally neuter him. I felt like throwing up. “Terrible.” She whispered and I had to concur.

#billy butcher x ofc #the boys #alternative universe #mention of smut

4 notes · View notes

thcllslnrd · 4 years ago

Text

Strange Love

!! EDIT !!: So this is like kjdfhsk from June? I’m just posting it cause it’s still not bad and I don’t wanna get rid of it, but I’m not gonna finish it since I’ve now finished all 7 seasons and I know these characters totally don’t fit the way I assigned them here anymore. Vampire Bill is...not the guy he was in season 1 lmao. I just wanted to post smth while I’m in the middle of other things, so have an unfinished Parksborn AU!!

---

I started watching True Blood recently and even though I've only seen season one so far, the idea of a AU for Parksborn won't leave my head. I mean, a southern Peter with telepathy and vampire Harry? Mmm yes please.

Summary: “In a society where humans and vampires co-exist, Peter Parker may have found the perfect boyfriend. Peter is clairvoyant and constantly hears people's thoughts, which makes dating a bit difficult. When vampire Harry Osborn walks into the bar where he works as a waiter, Peter realizes that he can't `hear' what he's thinking and he is immediately attracted.” (Aka the first episode of True Blood written as a Parksbron AU)

Character assignments: Peter as Sookie, Harry as Bill, Flash as Jason, Gwen as Sam, MJ as Arlene, and Miles as Lafayette.

Peter couldn't help when people's thoughts became his own.

He always tried his best to shut everyone out when waiting tables at Stacy's or walking through town, but sometimes it was too much. Took too much energy to shut too many people out. It wasn't like he could control whatever this was, either! But it made the waiters job hard some days.

Tonight was one of the harder days at Stacy's, the local bar getting busy with the usual crowd of people and then some. Only a handful of the customers weren't drunk yet, but it was only 11 p.m. and Peter had no doubt everyone would be hammered in no time. It was a Saturday night so he knew it was bound to end up like this, but he hated busy nights. Busy, drunk, loud nights always meant people's minds were busy, drunk, and loud.

Jesus, how the hell are Parker and Thompson even close to brothers? They're so fucking different, I jus-

How the hell am I gonna pay my rent after all this! Goddamn I don't wanna have to go to that bar and dance around again....

That woman seriously needs to lay off the burgers, I can see them dragging down her face.

Please Jesus, give me just this one whiskey. It's all I want, just a little bit, I know you'll give me the strength to not want shot number two.

Shit, Flash's one hell of a looker. To bad he's always hanging around with his brothers best friend, I'd love a piece of that a-

Peter slammed the two pitchers of Bud onto the table of 4 townsfolk, biting his tongue to keep his mouth shut in front of them.

"My brother can do however he pleases, thank you very much," The brunette mumbled, walking back towards the plate shelf.

Miles, as always, was working hard in the kitchen between stirring something in a two foot tall pot and flipping fresh made burger patties on the flat grill. For as long as Peter's been working at this bar, the other man's been wearing an apron in that kitchen and keeping everyone company. He was funny, gave good advice, and was all around good company.

As he sat down the spatula to the right of the flat grill, Miles started shaking spices into a separate bowl.

"I need'a order of fries. And if you dropped a handful on the floor for me that would be just wonderful." Peter sighed, resting his arms against the cold metal.

"You got it, hun," The darker man finally turned to the waiter, seeing his uniform and overall look for the day. "Goddamn, Petey! What're you doin' with that tight shirt and fluffed up mob'a hair...D'you have a date tonight?"

"No, but when I wear fittin' close I get more tips."

"You got that right. These hillbillies are suck'as for good packagin'."

"And if I act like I don't have'a brain in my skull the tips are even bigger. If I do, there'all a sudden scared a'me." Miles just laughed, looking up from his bowl and pointing to the other with a handful of spice shakers.

"You got it wrong, hun. They ain't scared a'you, they're scared of them leeegs-"

"Miles Morales! I don't wanna hear that from you tonight!" Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Miles just kept laughing as a bright red-haired girl walked up next to him, putting one plate in each hand. That was Mary Jane, or MJ, and she'd only been working at Stacy two or three years when Peter started. She was sweet, helped him out a lot when he just started serving and taking orders. She had strong opinions, and not the greatest taste in men, but she was always happy and fun to talk to.

"What in the blue hell are you two talkin' 'bout?" Miles turned to the woman with a grin, keeping his hands busy with the food.

"Oh, the usual, Parker's legs an' how everyone wants a hunk outta him." Peter was quick to roll his eyes, looking between the man in the kitchen and the waitress next to him.

"Well, I'm sure he'll figure it all out one day, Miles." MJ took a quick glance between the two before winking and walking off, hands full with paid food to serve.

Peter just bit his lip and walked off with another sigh, knowing the fries would take another minute. He had other orders to attend to, so he went to the bar and grabbed a tray to carry drinks before locking eyes with the bartender, Gwen Stacy.

Gwen was the owner of this bar, which used to belong to her father's before he passed away. They've been friends for years too, met their senior year of high school and have been fairly close since. Peter had always been the loner type anyway but Gwen was a good change of pace. She got along with everyone of all gender, sexuality, color, and opinion (even if she didn't always agree). It made her a good bartender since she had to deal with pretty much everyone in town on the regular, and most importantly a good friend. It did make it strange for her to become his boss after so many years of being friends too, but it left out any awkward 'co-worker and boss' interactions. For the most part.

"How's your night goin', Parker?"

Peter pushed a smile. "I've had better, but it's not'a total wreck."

"Well, is there anythin' I can do to improve it for ya'?"

Peter ran a hand back through his hair, eyebrows knit close in thought. At first he was actually thinking on something to improve his night like an extra break or maybe a free drink, but something changed in the room. He wasn't sure how obvious it was to everyone else in the bar, the sudden silence, but he felt like he could breathe again. No more thoughts about food, beer, liquor, drugs, men, women, sex, all of it was gone. Peter quickly realized it wasn't only everyone's thoughts but everyone in the bar had done dead silent. The whole bar was quick as lightening to end their private conversations. But...why? The hell was everyone so quiet and alarmed by?

Peter didn't see why until he turned around.

Someone new, entirely unfamiliar had walked into Stacy's tonight. It wasn't that new faces weren't welcome here, but there was something clear as day about this new guy. He was tall, but couldn't be more than half a foot taller than Peter, and paler than a piece of printer paper with dark red hair and chocolate brown eyes. There was no question about who he was or what he'd order tonight.

Peter turned back towards the bar and Gwen before him and the redheaded stranger could lock eyes. "My god, I think Stacy's just got its first vampire!"

"Yeah, I think you're right."

"Can you even believe that!? Right here in little ol' Bon Temps? I don't think I've ever been so excited to meet one since they came outta the coffin two years ago!" Peter kept a hold of his tray and pulled his order pad and pen out of his shirt pocket.

He wasn't sure how or why, but when the brunette turned to to serve the vampire, he was already looking right at him. It might have been weird but it was even weirder that Peter was excited, interested to do this. Vampires have been living alongside humans for a solid two years now, but for what he knew, he's never met one before. Especially not in the workplace. Besides, in a small town like this, you rarely got something this exciting.

The brunette walked his way up to the vampire, a smile clad on his face. "Hi, welcome to Stacy's! And what can I get for you tonight?"

The man in the booth was quiet, almost as if he knew everyone was still watching out of the corner of their eyes and thinking about his presence alone. The conversations had picked back up, but if he didn't drown out all the thoughts, they all had something to do with this new vampire.

"Do you guys have any of that bottled, synthetic blood?" Peter bit his lip, already knowing the answer.

"No, I'm really sorry. Gwen got some a last year, but no one ordered it and she had'ta dump it all out after it went bad." He stopped for a second before talking again, trying to fill the silence. "You're our first vampire. Small town."

"Yeah, I think that woman over there's on to me."

"Oh, that's Gwen! She's cool, trust me." Peter kept his smile after looking back to Gwen, unsure why she was watching him so closely.

"Am I...that obvious?"

"A-A little? I mean, I noticed the moment I saw you, but I don't know about everyone else." Peter lied, because he shouldn't be able to know what everyone else thought.

"Well...if you don't have any blood, then I'll just take a glass of red wine. Gives me a reason to stay."

"Oh...o-okay, I can do that for you! Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're staying." Peter smiled, tapping the end of his pen to the notepad.

His smile started to twitch when the woman sitting in the next booth leaned back, pressing her head close to the vampires but keeping her eyes locked on Peter.

"Oh, don't mind Peter. He's craz'r than'a ol' mad dog." There was a real badly spoken tone of seduction in her voice, and if that was her say of trying to flirt or lead on either one of them, she wasn't doing very well.

Peter couldn't help but make a slightly irritated face at her, waiting until he turned away to roll his eyes and huff. He saw the fries waiting at the kitchen window and quickly delivered those and a side of ranch to a different table before getting a glass of red wine from the blonde bartender. He held it, the only thing in one hand, and placed it on the table right in front of the vampire.

"You're reason to stay," Peter smiled, even though noticing the woman from the other booth was in now in the same booth as the redhead.

He clearly seemed to be annoyed, uninterested, but she had her hands all over his shoulder and arm, pressed close. He already felt bad for the vampire having to deal with this woman, until her thoughts were all he could hear, loud in her head. She was doing quick and fairly complicated math as she looked the vampire up and down (as if she was gonna bite him instead), raving about the money she'd get for selling all his blood. When the other woman gave him a weird look, unaware that Peter was even able to listen in on her intentions, he quickly snapped out of it and mouthed a sorry! out before rushing back to the bar.

Well shit.

"Gwen, we've gotta problem, Sarahlee is planning on drainin' that vampire clean and sellin' his blood!" Gwen raised an eyebrow at the man, busying her hands with cleaning a glass.

"Wait, you listened in on her and heard all that?" Peter sighed, knowing it shouldn't have to be much of a question. All of his close friends and family knew of his skill, proved it one way or another until they understood, and what fool would talk about draining a vampire for their blood right next to them?

"Yes! Clear as day!"

"I'm sure he'll make it out okay! Besides, he's a vampire, right? He should be able to handle himself just fine."

Peter turned back to check in on the undead red head, see if the glass of wine had been touched, but no one was in the booth anymore. Not the vampire, or the touchy woman clinging to his arm. His eyes went eyes, frozen for a split second before moving quick and sudden.

"Damn! Gwen, cover me!"

He wasn't quite yelling but he was still talking too loud, dropping his note pad on the middle of the floor and busting through the front door. The hot air hit his skin all too quickly but Peter couldn't even take it in, running down the small set of front steps and out into the parking lot. He had to stop, close his eyes, and focus, of all hopes of finding and trying to help this vampire were blown away. He did just that, clearing his mind and waiting until he got the hint of her thoughts, an echo.

Damn needle...should I keep...worth the wait...

Peter ran as quietly as possible towards the thoughts, stopping dead in his tracks after a few steps to only now realize he was totally defenseless. He knew how to fight with his hands, but considering this woman was handling a vampire all by herself, tonight wasn't the night to take chances. Taking a quick glance around all of the cars, he found a thick link of chain in the open bed of a truck, taking it out and wincing at the sound of metal on metal. If was a quieter carry though, which was good for while she got closer to the vampire and his kidnapper.

For a split second the brunette thought what if Gwen was right? What if the vampires already got his escape planned and he only gets in the way? What if he only makes things worse? Her words were starting to get to him, convincing him to start backing away while he had the chance, until he saw that he was entirely right.

The redheaded vampire from before was now laid out on the ground, needles and wraps all tied and poked into his left arm as the other woman was starting in on his right. She was struggling, and Peter didn't know if it was finding the vein or getting the needle through his skin or what. He was quiet, dead silent but taking a few more steps from behind the struggling woman. The vampire noticed him after awhile, squinting like he was confused or couldn't make out who he was, but the brunette just raised a single finger to his lips in signal for him to keep as he is.

Once Peter was only a yard or so behind the kidnapper, he took a deep breath in before holding the chain with both hands and swinging it against the woman like a baseball bat. She let out a loud gasp as she fell on her stomach, coughing a few times and turning her head to see Peter, still holding the chain and fully prepared to use it again if needed.

"Oh you prissy son of a bitch!" Sarahlee hissed, either from the pain or anger, and pulled a curved blade out from her back pocket. She held the knife out in front of her, just as prepared to use her weapon as he was, but missed on the first swing.

"Step back from him, you low-rent, roadkill eatin, white trash." Peter warned her as harshly as he could, he other woman just laughing and pointing her blade.

"You have no idea who the fuck you're messing with, motherfucker. So just keep your pretty little hands away from me and this vamp, before you get on my bad side."

"Oh please, at this point I'm already sure you don't have any other side."

#parksborn #parksborn fanfiction #fanfic #peter parker #harry osborn #true blood #true blood au #au fanfic #unfinished #sookie stackhouse #bill compton #thcllslnrd #thcllslnrd fanfic

10 notes · View notes

izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

Text

Our House

Eugene is away on business for a few weeks, and they’ve both wanted bits and pieces of the house fixed up/changed.

Snafu can do that all on his own, right?

Important lessons about home improvement and how it is a fickle beast below the cut!

At the end, re: wine, I’m basing their reactions off of what wine does to me (makes me sleepy af and basically useless if I have more than a glass or two.)

Also, I did get a weird headache mid-writing this so hopefully it sounds decent and I didn’t accidentally a word anywhere (I read over it for a quick edit, but y’all know I’m notorious for still missing mistakes until three days later.) If y’all do notice something off/an error on this, please let me know so I can fix it asap!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

The three weeks marked on the calendar had seemed long, in the days prior to them. He’d spent those days moaning to Eugene about how difficult it would be, and how long the weeks would take to pass.

They hadn’t felt long enough now though.

The bedroom was done, at least, in a cheerful, soft, pastel yellow. A pastel sage green trim made the whole room feel like spring, at least to Snafu. Eugene would love it, that much he knew for sure.

“He ain’t gonna love the rest of this though,” Snafu sighed, and took in the rest of the house as he walked through it. Eugene would be back in a day, and he had so much left to do:

The kitchen was missing half the cabinet doors, which were outside near the shed, halfway to being refinished, varnished, and repainted a light rose pink with white accents. He had never realized just how many cabinets they had until now, and it seemed like too many.

The guest bathroom had yet to be retiled, though the tiles were sitting ready for him to put down.

The guest bedroom was waiting to be repainted a greyish green, but he hadn’t had time to even crack the paint cans open.

And finally, and perhaps worst, the living room was...

“A fuckin’ disaster,” Snafu muttered to himself as he walked into it, carefully. The repainting of it to a plum had gone just fine. However, a bit of paint had gotten onto the velvet chaise lounge they’d recently bought at a flea market. They were going to reupholster it anyway, why not do it now to get rid of the paint?

Snafu shook his head at the memory of asking himself that question. From there, he’d been on a search for a nice velvet to replace the original that would also match the walls, and be to Eugene and his tastes. Easier said than done, and made all the harder at the realization that some of the wood flooring had, at some point, somehow been damaged (maybe when they’d moved in the lounge? He couldn’t be sure.)

Which meant of course the wood flooring needed to be repaired, which was...a task, putting it mildly.

“How the hell am I gonna finish this?” Snafu asked Queen, who was preening on the leftover velvet for the lounge.

She rolled over and turned away from him, still preening with one paw.

“Exactly,” he sighed, then traipsed into the front hall, sitting onto the first step of the staircase to the upper level. “I just gotta make a plan, right? I mean, he might not even notice the guest room; I can paint that later. Bathroom might be an issue, but we don’t even use that bathroom that much, I can hide the tiles. And how often does anybody really look at a cabinet, like really look, ya know?”

Queen looked over, sighed, and closed her eyes for a nap.

“Right? I don’t look at cabinet doors, that’s for sure,” Snafu continued. “So that just leaves the living room, and the living room-”

The front door creaked open, and he just barely resisted the urge to bolt.

“Hey! Is Eugene ba-what in the everloving...” Sidney froze in the doorway, staring at the living room mess. “So, he isn’t back yet then?”

Snafu shook his head. “Nah, or I’d be dead.”

“He won’t be that upset,” Sidney soothed. “I know you mentioned you were doin’ some work but...damn. Hey, nearly done though, really. Just the chair there, and the floor some, and-”

“Most of the rest of the house,” Snafu interrupted. “I got a little ambitious.”

“How ambitious?” Sidney asked gently, and joined Snafu on the step.

By the time Snafu was done regaling him with everything that needed doing, Sidney had gone pale.

“That’s maybe a little too ambitious indeed, Snaf. But, I admire it.”

“And now you’re headin’ on home, right?”

Sidney frowned. “Hell do you mean? I’m gonna help you get done whatever we can. We’ll call Mary, she can come by and help paint, and help you with that lounge. Between the three of us, we can get some of it done at least.”

Snafu stared. They were friends more for Eugene’s sake, rather than to actually be friends (if anything, he got along better with Mary.) There was nothing wrong with Sidney, they just hadn’t clicked in any major way. But it was moments like this he was grateful they both put in the work to become better friends, because what was a good friend if not occasionally a home improvement knight in shining armor?

He hugged Sidney tight, until Sidney finally tried to wriggle out. “Thank you. I know he wouldn’t actually kill me-”

“He doesn’t even like raising his voice to you,” Sidney interrupted. “Every time y’all argue, he calls me and says how bad he feels about any shouting. And I highly doubt it’s even really ‘shouting.’ But you might have earned it this time, though I would defend you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. This was done with good intentions, to give him a nice surprise to come home too. Not your fault home improvement shit never goes right,” Sidney replied. “Come on, get up. We got a long night, and I still gotta call Mary.”

Once Mary was over, it was shocking how fast it all seemed to go. It wasn’t that Sid and Mary rushed him or their own tasks, just that it seemed...easier. The house was warm and loud (as well as the backyard for the last few hours of daylight, while he and Sid finished up the cabinet doors, leaving them painted and drying near the back door) and with the dog and cats occasionally peeking in to check on them, it all felt lively and just good. Better than it had felt for the weeks of being empty except for himself and the pets.

It was six in the morning when they gave up, and, and Sidney put it “had to accept it for what it was.”

Which wasn’t terrible, all things considered.

The last bit of the living room flooring had been fixed up, and the lounge reupholstered thanks to Mary’s endless hard work on it.

The guest bedroom might need another coat, but it was at least mostly done, and the animals had been kept out of it so the door could be shut, keeping the paint fumes mostly confined to the hall near it.

The guest bathroom still had some tiles to finish putting down, but it was about halfway done, and that was a hell of a lot further than Snafu had figured they’d get.

The cabinet doors still needed to finish drying and be actually put back onto the kitchen cabinets, but they looked damn pretty.

They cleaned up, and settled in to wait for Eugene.

And waited.

“He would have called by now,” Snafu muttered, after four hours had passed from when Eugene was supposed to be home. “I should go down to the station, see why he isn’t in yet. Maybe he meant for me to pick him up and forgot to say...”

Sidney shook his head. “That ain’t Eugene. He has a checklist for his checklists; he would have told you. At least four times.”

Mary nodded. “Do you have a number you can call him at? Maybe his train got delayed and he’s still at his hotel in, where was it again he was going?”

“Atlanta,” Snafu replied, and walked to the phone with them and three of the cats on his heels.

He wasn’t at the hotel, nor at the train station in Atlanta. Nor was he at the train station in Mobile, waiting to be picked up.

“Merriell, don’t panic,” Sidney said softly as they walked back to the couch, and Sid using his proper name was enough to send him spiraling.

“What if he’s hurt, what if something happened? I should have just gone with him, y’all could have looked after the pets, and I could have found somethin’ to do in Atlanta while he was busy. This is my fault.”

“How on earth is this your fault?” Mary asked. “I’m sure he’s just fine, probably just...held up, somehow. Who knows, maybe he just can’t catch a cab to the station.”

“For four hours?” Sidney scoffed, then winced as Mary slapped his arm. “I mean yeah. You never know. Could be a cab driver shortage...”

He expected them to leave, but they stayed even as the day wore on into the evening. Mary eventually got up to check on the paint in the guest room, and when she didn’t return, Snafu figured it was dry enough for the final coat. Sid followed shortly after in getting up, and the sound of the back door opening and closing let him know that the cabinet doors were apparently ready to be put back in place.

Meanwhile, he waited and watched the phone.

“Snaf, I’m sure he’s fine,” Sidney said as they finally slipped on their shoes and retrieved their keys from the front hall table. “Somethin’ silly just held him up, and he’ll be rushing in here before you know it. Let yourself get some sleep, okay?”

Mary nodded, and turned to the door, only to nearly be smacked in the face by it as it swung open.

“I am so sorry,” Eugene was a mess, hair clearly unbrushed, clothes wrinkled, and eyes wild. “Are you okay? Why are you two here? I mean, I don’t mean that like; you just don’t live here is what I mean-”

“Gene,” Sidney said gently. “Shut the fuck up and breathe for a minute. What happened?”

Eugene sighed, kicked off his shoes, and moved past them to drop on the newly upholstered chaise lounge. “Snaf, it’s for you. Got it sitting outside. It’s wrapped up, but take a look. Hopefully you like it, and then we can bring it inside. Thought we could hang it in here, on the-did you paint in here?”

Snafu ignored Sidney’s face-palm and Mary’s shaking head as he headed outside. Just by the front door, was a too-big-for-one-person-to-carry framed canvas, bits of the golden colored frame sticking out from under the brown paper wrapping. And under the paper...

“Those are our babies!” Snafu crowed, and ran back inside, nearly knocked the lounge back as he dropped onto it to hug Eugene. “You had to have commissioned that ages ago, to get them pictures of the cats and God knows how you got a decent one of Ack-Ack, and when did you do that?”

“Soon as they mentioned they might need me to travel,” Eugene replied. “Called around, found a local artist, sent the pictures along in the mail whenever I got a chance that you weren’t paying attention. Thought it would be a way to make up for me being gone, but gettin’ that thing in and off of a train was something else, and then they nearly didn’t want to let me on, and-”

Eugene shrugged. “But I made it. And it made it. You like it?”

“I love it!” he buried his face in Eugene’s shoulder, hugging him tight again and taking in everything about him again, how he felt, the scent of his cologne. “But you better not be goin’ anywhere for awhile regardless. I can tell you later, but I-”

“You two are absolutely meant for each other,” Sidney laughed. “You with the picture, and this fool...he redid half the damn house while you were gone. With our help, though we were happy to do it. That lounge you’re sittin’ on?”

Eugene looked down at it as he moved out of Snafu’s embrace as if he was seeing it for the first time. “This wasn’t green velvet when I left.”

“No, no it wasn’t,” Mary smiled. “But it is now! And wait’ll you see the rest of it, he worked hard. Ran out of time, but he worked hard.”

“How much did you try to do in three weeks?” Eugene laughed, though his smile drooped slightly as not one of the three of them answered.

“Tell you what,” Snafu replied after a moment. “We get that painting inside, hung up, and have dinner. And then I’ll tell you all what I did, and how I owe our Sid and Mary a very big favor for it, starting with a late dinner tonight if you both want to stay.”

“...Everything is one piece, right?”

“Except for the tile of the guest bathroom, yes,” Sid interjected. “And if you’ll have us, we’d be happy to stay. Can get that last bit of tiling done with Snaf before we go.”

“I like it! And we’ll have a bit of wine to celebrate your being home,” Snafu said to Eugene, and kissed him before hopping off the lounge and towards the kitchen. “In fact, wine first, picture hanging, then dinner, then tiling?”

“Sounds like a dangerous combination,” Eugene said. “But why not, if we’re celebrating. How badly can it turn out?”

Two bottles of wine between them all, and the rest of the night later, they managed to get the picture inside and resting safely against a wall in the front hall, and the guest bathroom was left mercifully untouched by any drunken work.

Despite it, Snafu had never been happier. Eugene was home, there was good food, good wine, good friends, a gorgeous gift, and the house looked lovely. He couldn’t ask for more.

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu

24 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

Those villain/hero prompts are so wonderful and I want all of them but how about #2 with Indruck?

#2 Would calling their cell for a random chat be like villain-creepy or stalker-creepy? Or both?

EDITED TO ADD: There is now a continuation of this story here.

Indrid is bored: None of the museums have anything worth stealing, no superheroes need taunting (it keeps them on their toes), no “ooh look at us we’re so patriotic and heroic” parades need interrupting. There aren’t even any good movies playing.

In theory, being bored ought to spur him to create new, evil plans. But mostly it’s just making him antsy. It gives his future vision too much time to show him all the things he could be stopping, or all the disasters that might be barreling towards him.

He picks up his phone. Maybe he can play that moth collecting game and calm himself.

A reminder pops up on the screen: GREEN KNIGHT

It’s followed by a ten digit number. A benefit of future vision is that it makes it easy to spy on heroes, learn their movements, their identities, their weaknesses.

Their phone numbers.

But he doesn’t have any schemes to brag about, or scary visions to taunt him with (that the Green Knight always takes those taunts as the warnings they are, and prevents the disasters Indrid long ago gave up on stopping is a fact Indrid never shares with other villains).

He does, however, like talking with the Green Knight. They banter during their battles, and they’ve made each other laugh more than once. He suspects the Knight prolongs their verbal sparring before attacking him.

Still, calling him at random may tip from super-villain creepy to simply creepy-creepy, a thing Indrid was regarded as for much of his life. He does not remember those days fondly.

Besides, maybe he’s interrupting something if he calls. The Green Knight could be having dinner, or be on a date, or with his family. Indrid’s a villain, not a jerk.

He glances at the futures; no, it appears the Green Knight shares his predicament, if the visions of him refreshing the same three apps on his phone is any indication.

Indrid dials the number, only waits two rings before getting answer.

“Go for Duck.”

“Hello, my chivalrous friend.”

“Cold.” The drawl turns to a growl, “how the fuck did you get this number?”

“The same way I got the better of you at the National Gallery. And that’s a trade secret.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Blunt as always.”

“Stop stallin.”

“Ah, well….nothing?”

He looks at the futures, watches confusion move across Duck Newton’s face before he settles into suspicion.

“Is this some new mind game?”

“No. I, was bored and, ah,” this is a terrible idea why didn’t he see this coming, “I like talking to you.”

“Uh huh, sure, and hell just froze over. Hang up, and don’t call here again, I’m real busy.”

“Oh?” Indrid reclines on his couch, smirking, “doing what?”

“Uh, playin, uh, fuck, table-games, with, fuck, my, fr-, fuck.”

“Come now, I’ve known about your inability to lie since you tried to out-bluff me during our first meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Duck mutters.

“so……Any fun plans this weekend?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“True. How about I go first?”

“O-kay.” Duck’s hardened tone wavers.

“They do those, ah, First Fridays downtown, and I find it fun to see all the new art. Plus there’s a little gelato shop that makes a honey-strawberry mix I adore. Then again, I might stay home. That friend of yours is doing a marathon of Saturday Night Dead, and I like making a big bowl of popcorn and M&Ms and watching it.” Good gracious, he is babbling.

There’s a pause, static crackles down the line, then, “Damn, haven’t had that combo in awhile. Don’t get out to the movies much.”

“They have these remarkable things called grocery stores.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, and they got these things called department stores now, but that don’t seem to stop you from doin all your shoppin in thrift stores.”

“Touche.”

“Bigger question is: you ever put peanuts in coke?”

“Why in the world would I ruin a drink in that way?”

“It tastes good!”

“Next you’ll be telling me to put skittles in my coffee–hmm, actually…”

“Ughck.”

He looks at the futures, finds Duck flopping down on his bed as continues talking, “Hmm, alright, what is the oddest thing you have ever eaten?”

“I once poured caramel syrup onto corned beef hash.”

“Gah, Jesus, why?”

Indrid regales him with the tale of a dare gone awry, earns a story of Duck’s misadventures with fair food and rocky mountain oysters in return. It turns into a debate over what the best fried food is, then a discussion of what they’d each choose as a perfect meal, seguing eventually into trading fantasies of where they’d like to travel.

“Point Pleasant. There are things I wish to see. To…make up for.” He could curse the vulnerability in his voice.

“Huh.” Duck puts a remarkable amount of understanding into that one syllable before continuing, “Might pick somewhere with a rainforest. See it before it’s all gone.”

“You know, I’ve been working on a device that could, ah, nevermind.”

Duck chuckles, “You know that ain’t how I do things.”

“Indeed.” Indrid yawns, notes the clock telling him it’s nearly midnight.

“Guess we both oughta get some rest. Can’t believe I’m sayin this, but I had a real nice time talkin with you.”

“Likewise. You are an excellent conversational companion, Duck, and when you are not aiming punches my way, I enjoy your company.”

(That he sometimes enjoys the parts with the punches is a secret he will keep until the heat death of the universe).

“Perhaps we can talk again sometime?”

“Sure. Might be in person though.”

“Excuse-”

Oh damn it all.

“I’m a superhero, Indrid, did you really think I wouldn’t have a way to track your location on my phone?”

“But I have it set to read out different location coordinates every thirty seconds.”

“Neat trick too. But I ain’t survived in the hero game this long just because of my good looks. See you soon.”

The call ends, and Indrid stares at his reflection in the dark screen. He’s lead an enemy right to his doorstep, and he may have to one of his favorite bases for good. All for a few hours of conversation with a charming hero.

“Completely worth it?” He asks his reflection.

His reflection nods.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #superhero au #prompt fill

49 notes · View notes

bitsby · 5 years ago

Text

RvB Walgreens AU

Yes, I’m back with another one of these abominations, starring our favorite red team leader. AO3 link is here.

Sarge finds love at the local Walgreens.

Part 1

Sarge and Tucker pull into a parking spot at the local Walgreens.

Tucker works the occasional weekend for a program assisting elderly folks who don't have access to a car for one reason or another. Unfortunately, his schedule coincidentally keeps lining him up to drive around the same crazy veteran, even though he tried to change up his times to avoid getting the old geezer again and again.

Tucker walks around to open the passenger door, then places his hand on Sarge's arm to help him out of the car.

"Just 'cause they won't let me drive don't mean I can't walk! Hands off, ya dirty blue!" Sarge bellows as he swats the younger man away.

"The hell? You're the Walmart greeter wearing blue all the time, gramps," Tucker says with a smirk, having learned that mentioning this color for some reason pisses the dude off to no end.

Sarge ignores the comment so he doesn't have to deal with being completely in denial about this fact. Instead, he occupies his mind with daydreams about the local Target having an open position so he can work for a business that has good taste in corporate colors.

The routine is the same as always: Tucker wanders through the aisles to investigate discounted previous holiday's candy and decorations, while Sarge shuffles to the pharmacy area to pick up his prescriptions.

What wasn't the same was the pharmacist behind the counter today. And gosh darn if Sarge had ever seen a sight as beautiful as her. Raven hair with stunning silver streaks in a loose bun, a sleek white coat accentuating her form, and a face that would make a boy hit puberty right then and there if he hadn't already. But thankfully, Sarge wasn't a boy. And he was ready to show this fine lady what a man he was.

"'Scuse me, miss?" he says, smoothing out his normally gruff voice. She cocks her head with a large smile, responding with bright excitement, "Why, hello there! Oh, oh, please, tell me, do you have an extremely rare and life-threatening disease and not a completely boring ailment like pneumonia? That would just make my day!"

God bless America-- Sarge was in love.

"I think you have somethin' for me, little lady," he continues with a chuckle. Sarge leans against the counter and flexes his arm to show how swole he was despite his age. He couldn't see it at first since he isn't wearing his bifocals, but now that he's closer, he squints to read the angel's name tag on her uniform: Dr. Emily Grey.

Dr. Grey's face falls, seemingly disappointed. "Oh, you called ahead to order the... Beano? You know, you can get that over the counter."

"Oh, nope! Must've heard me wrong! Dang phones, right? Yep, heh, I'm, uh, I meant to say, uh-- Viagra!" Sarge scrambles for an excuse to sound like an adequate partner, and hopes that it's sufficient.

Dr. Grey raises an eyebrow, but her smile brightens. Heh. Knew it would work. The lovely doctor turns to retrieve the product from a shelf behind her.

"Yep, normally Sarge Jr. has no problems, but a good soldier is always prepared!"

"That's very proactive of you,” she offers cheerfully, “especially given that most men your age tend to have a fairly active libido but not enough manpower to satisfy it!”

"Heh, well, once ya give me that magic little pill there, I'll be able to do a lotta satisfying. At least for four hours, anyway-- then I'll have to call ya to help me out." Sarge winks. Dr. Grey giggles as she pulls up his account on the pharmacy's computer.

"You'd need my number for that... Sarge?" She tilts her head quizzically. "Oh, there must be a data entry error, it looks like they only entered your surname--"

"No error there, gorgeous! Name's Sarge but you can call me daddy." Ha, he's on a roll, smoother than he'd ever been, age be damned!

"So how does a fella go about gettin' those digits, Ms. Emily Grey? Is your middle name murder? 'Cause I've got a boner for you." He earns another giggle from this heavensent being.

"I have no idea what you mean by that, but I would love to psychoanalyze you to find out!"

"Hey Sarge, d'ya get your fart meds? What's the hold up?" Tucker asks, carrying a bag full of Valentine's Day candy even though it was nearing Halloween. He approaches the two as Sarge finishes punching her number into his Jitterbug flip phone.

"Ain't no holdup, son!" Sarge hollers back, although his intended annoyance is dampened by his ear-to-ear grin. As they exit the store, Tucker lightly punches him in the shoulder with a proud smile. Sarge doesn't even think to berate or shrug off the whippersnapper, too distracted by his delight.

Sarge thinks on the battle won today. The battle… of love.

Part 2

"You're a DILF, sweetie, don't worry." Emily smiles at her husband of 19 years, rocking back and forth in the chair across from him on their porch.

"But he called me a GILF! I'm not a grandpa, Simmons doesn't even have kids! Him and that dirtbag haven't--"

"And even if they did, remember, you adopted him, so it technically doesn't have to count!" Emily disputes with her soft smile intact. She pats Sarge's hand lovingly. He huffs.

"Fine. Wait, what's all this hafta do with the Walgreens commercial we're doin', anyway? And why do they call it Walgreens? It would sound better if it was Walreds. Heh. At least it's not Walblues." Sarge shudders.

"Um, Mrs. Sharge? Could you shay the motto? My phone ish running out of battery," Jensen says anxiously, steadying her smartphone at the two. "Director Church won't be happy if I don't finish thish tonight!"

"Yer not even bein' paid, intern girl! Doesn't hafta be perfect!" Sarge grunts.

Emily rolls her eyes, then directs her line at the camera, "Trusted since 1901."

"Just like Sarge's dick!!"

"Palomo!! Ugh, I'll jusht edit it out!"

Fade to black.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb fic #rvb au #emily x sarge #dr grey #rvb sarge #lavernius tucker #rvb tucker #katie jensen #rvb jensen #charles palomo #rvb palomo #walgreens au #ao3 #fanfic

38 notes · View notes

sirkkasnow · 5 years ago

Text

10 Let Someone Else Pick Up The Tab

Ao3 link

07/18/13 Thursday

The nerd brigade was in full control of the living room by the time Stan was up and about the next day. Graph paper, rulebooks and glitter-spangled character sheets were littered across the carpet. Clary sat enthroned upon the recliner with a bunch of pillows arranged to support her elbows. She leafed gingerly through some arcane tome tricked out with silver ink as Dipper hovered to one side, pointing out paragraphs here and there with a pencil and a note of shrill excitement.

“... so that’s what they did with the clerics in the latest rule update!”

“How are the warlocks looking in this edition?” Clary flipped to the back, then started paging through intently. Today’s kerchief was an improbable shade of star-spattered purple. One of Mabel’s scarves strapped down a towel-wrapped ice pack at the back of her neck. “They’re kind of garbage for one-shots, but if we get something longer-term going online I have a concept...”

“Ah, we - usually avoid warlocks - “ Dipper glanced over at Ford, who’d popped up with a frown from behind a cardboard screen. “But if we end up trying an online campaign we can talk! Today’s just an intro. Some puzzles, some mysteries, perhaps some villains.” He waggled dramatic fingers at Clary, who grinned back with an appreciative ‘ooOOOooo.’

Stan made to slide on by, intent on heading out to the yard and the cars and the testing-out of a happy engine, but Mabel caught sight of him and scuttled out in pursuit. “Grunkle Stan! Help me out for a minute, we need ice pops for these brave adventurers!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned at Mabel, caught Clary’s eye in passing and absolutely did not blush a little, nope, no way, he was too old and too jaded for that kinda nonsense.

Mabel squinted up at him appraisingly, planted hands at his back and shoved him towards the gift shop. “So?” she hissed between her teeth as they staggered down the hallway. “Gimme the 411.”

All he could manage was a thumbs up. Her eyes went wide and she yanked up the cowlneck of her sweater to muffle a high-pitched squeak of glee. “So, she asked me out, I guess, maybe when we’re in port, since we swapped phone numbers an’ all - “

“Did you kiss her?!”

“What? No!”

“You should. She gets all dreamy-eyed - “

“Mabel, she is a classy dame, you don’t rush that kinda thing!”

“There is no dame too classy for my Grunkle Stan.” She hugged him hard around the waist and ran off to the gift shop, leaving him dumbfounded. “I’ll grab you a pineapple one!”

He hauled both the toolbox and a pineapple ice pop out to the yard, late-morning sunshine laying across his shoulders with a warm and soothing weight. The Fairlane’s engine was familiar as the back of his hand after two weeks of tinkering with its insides. Stan propped up the hood and dove in, checking and re-checking his work, reaching in to tweak a connection or two. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he slid into the driver’s seat and shook out the keys.

A good half tank of fuel remained, so no problem on that front. The engine sputtered briefly as he coaxed it into life, then settled into an even cadence that was easy enough on the ears, but Stan cocked his head as he listened. A faint off note in the sound plucked at some distant memory. He leaned on the gas a bit, leaving the car in park.

Then blinked, as the subtle vibration he’d been registering resolved itself into something more rhythmic.

“Shit.” Stan yanked his foot off the pedal and flipped the key back towards him, the thrum of well-regulated combustion rudely interrupted by an earsplitting clatter that echoed off the surrounding trees. The engine took way too long to wind down into silence, something in its guts rattling around hard enough to jostle the suspension. He laid a hand across his brow and swore fervently under his breath.

Twenty seconds passed before the side door banged open and a blur pelted across the yard. Clary smacked into the driver’s side, barely catching herself against the window frame. Winded, she stuck her head into the passenger compartment, frantic eyes flicking across the dash and the dented hood. “That was a piston.”

“That was a piston,” Stan agreed grimly.

“What - what the hell happened? Is the engine dead?” She sagged against the car.

“Well - “ Clary made a strangled noise of protest and he winced. “No. No, no, it’s not dead but things just got more complicated. I swear this isn’t my fault.” His brother and the kids were almost there, trotting across the grass. “Ford, did McGucket get all that heavy equipment shifted up to his new place? We’re gonna need an engine sling at the very least.”

Ford looked a little stricken as he accepted Dipper’s phone. “I thought we’d need to take the wagon up there for the bodywork, but I hoped it’d be under steam by then. Yes, the garage should have everything we’re going to need and then some.” He scrolled through contacts and tapped a number, turning away to engage in low conversation.

Clary straightened, leaning hard on the door for support. “All right,” she whispered. “Fine. Not like it hasn’t been a comedy of errors since I crashed into the town jewel at the peak of the season.” Her hands came together with a sharp clap. “We’d better get the rest of my junk out of the car. May I have some help?”

There wasn’t much left to clear out at this point. Clary opened all the doors and the back gate, letting the kids shuttle the last couple of bags into the house. She handed a skinny box of bottle rockets over to Stan. “Leftovers. I guess we can fire those off when this thing’s finally done.”

Then she collapsed onto the edge of the driver’s side passenger seat, doubled over with her head in her hands. “Good Christ. We just can’t catch a break, can we?”

Ford dropped into a crouch with an ease Stan envied, looking up to her and speaking firmly. “We promised that we’d get you on the road again and we shall. We’ll understand, of course, if you want to cut your losses at this point. The offer of a rental stands, if you want to head up to Seattle and come back to collect your car.”

She was already shaking her head, laughing raggedly. “Come on, Ford. You understand the sunk cost fallacy as well as I do. Thank you, but no.” Clary patted the seat back. “Whatever it takes, it’s got to be this ride. Stan? Can you actually fix it?”

That stung a bit but he couldn’t blame her. “Yeah. I mean, it’s gonna be another week, maybe a little more, and we might be haulin’ McGucket in to help out some.”

Clary drew a careful breath. “Who exactly is McGucket?”

“Best mechanical engineer I’ve ever met,” said Ford.

“Town crank,” said Stan, and got a glare for his trouble. “What? They’re both true!”

Ford sighed and rose. “I’ve been hoping to introduce you to Fiddleford anyway. There might be quite a bit to talk about! Can you adjust your schedule to accommodate another week or so?”

“My next firm commitment is in September. I arranged to leave most of the summer open. I will admit I expected to spend most of it on the road.” Clary’s smile was crooked.

“The McGuckets would be happy to have us as soon as we can arrive. Is it all right to line up a tow truck?”

“Go for it. Thank you, Ford.”

Ford’s smile was the warm, reassuring one he tended to bust out for the customs agent when they’d come skidding into some obscure port with inadequate paperwork. “Shouldn’t take much more than half an hour.”

Stan watched him head back towards the house and sat heavily behind the steering wheel. Clary studied her feet, then pitched backwards with a groan, legs hanging out the door as she sprawled across the back seat. Both hands came up to cover her face. “Aaaaaaauuuuuugh.”

“You all right over there?” He set the fireworks down in the footwell and draped an arm over the backrest, peering down in concern.

“Everything hurts and I want to cry.”

Stan fidgeted. Extending reassurance had never been his strong suit. “Listen...McGucket is definitely a little nuts but he knows his way around a combustion engine like nobody else. Between him an’ me we’ll get it runnin’.”

“This damned car.” She sounded so tired. “I had one job this summer, get this thing from Colorado to the west coast, then back home to Baltimore. I haven’t even made it to the Pacific yet!”

“Pretty roundabout route for gettin’ back to Maryland.”

Her breath hitched. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is.” Clary let her arms fall, one drooping to the floor, the other crossed over her abdomen, and stared up at the roof light. “Stan, I’m glad I’m here. I hate that I don’t have any control over being here.”

Stan tried out comforting responses in the back of his head for a couple seconds, words sticking in his throat. “Well, if you’re gonna be here another week, we’re doin’ the dance thing next Friday. You an’ I could actually, y’know. Dance. If you want,” he clarified as her eyes swiveled over to him.

Clary was silent just long enough to make him nervous, but at last the unhappy line of her mouth softened. “I meant what I said. I’m not taking it back. Even if the car still isn’t running.” She lifted a hand and hooked her index finger into his at the seat back, letting the weight of her arm hang. “Let’s dance.”

She was beautiful in her exhaustion. Stan shifted to hide a widening smile against his shoulder and tightened his one-digit clasp in hers. “Great. I’ll see ya there. Gonna be quite the swank party.”

They trailed the tow truck in the El Diablo, Clary tucked into the front seat, Ford in the back with the kids. Dipper narrated choice bits of Northwest family history all the way, none of it flattering. Clary kept glancing back to him in astonishment. “They were really that bad?”

“They used to be, but they don’t have all that dirty money to throw around any more! And, uh. Pacifica’s okay.”

Mabel jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Ow. Anyway, McGucket ended up buying the place at the end of last summer, so it’s probably changed a bit, but it’s huge! I haven’t been up there since the big party last year. Hey, there it is.”

Clary looked up to the vast lodge-style manor on its hill as they rounded a curve and emerged from the trees. “Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“This town doesn’t make any sense.”

“Thought you’d figured that out by now.” He swung the car up along the long drive, squinting up at the mansion. “I never did manage to slip into this joint while the Northwests were runnin’ it.”

“It takes a lot of money to be that tacky. Clary, Dipper is definitely taking us on the tour.” Mabel hooked an arm firmly through her brother’s. “We’re gonna let the machine geeks go at it for a while.”

“I don’t know, Mabel....”

“C’mon, you said it wasn’t haunted any more! What’s the harm? I’m sure the Northwests took all their awful family portraits with ‘em....”

The kids bickered all the way up to the garage, which was as oversized as the rest of the place. He could just glimpse a tinkerer’s dream of equipment in there – stuff he recognized, stuff that looked to be custom built, some massive grease-encrusted hunks of machinery that must have come up from the town dump along with McGucket.

The man himself was a lot less grease-encrusted than he used to be. McGucket still sported the overalls and the spectacles, but he was scrubbed, bright-eyed and less stooped, and the missing teeth had been patched in through some kind of dental wizardry. Mabel and Dipper hauled Clary off for introductions while Stan and Ford got the wagon unloaded, oriented and nudged into the open bay.

One thing hadn’t changed at all and that was the language. McGucket’s conversation was as peppered with hick-isms as ever. “What a pleasure to meet ya, miss! Ford’s filled me in on yer situation and I’m real sorry y’got stranded out here, but we’ve got the stuff t’get ya right on the road again! I hear there’s a thrown piston t’fix?” He, the kids and Clary, her eyes widening a little with every twang, took off on a tour of the further corners of the space. An occasional snippet of discussion drifted back Stan’s way as he tried to focus on the immediate necessities.

“Just as well she already knows this place is a little strange.” Ford caught Stan’s jacket as it was tossed over, then shucked his own coat and hung both up on pegs.

“Not sure I’d’ve brought her up here without knowin’ she wouldn’t flip.” Stan got the Fairlane settled into place, set the brake and went looking for a dolly.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the things he’s built! McGucket can do stuff with old cars that’s practically miraculous--!” Dipper was nearly hopping in excitement as the little tour group rounded the far end of the garage. Stan glanced up, caught his nephew’s eye and dragged pinched fingers along his lips: zip it, kid. Dipper blinked, went a little red and reined himself in. “I mean he’s not going to do anything weird to your car. Grunkle Stan will make sure of that.”

“Of course not! Why, it’d be a crime to take apart such a pretty thing.” McGucket caught one of Clary’s hands in both of his and peered up in watery-eyed sincerity. “I promise we’ll take real good care of it. Mabel, honey, y’said you wanted t’take a quick tour? I can send ya up with Tater if y’like.”

Stan hauled up the hood and latched its support into place, listening in. Clary’s polite smile finally loosened up into something genuine and she tightened her grip in McGucket’s. “That’s your son, right? I’d love to see the place. Mabel says it’s something else.”

“Sure is! Left up most of the fancy stuff, gold doorknobs an’ all that claptrap, might have t’swap ‘em out next time we need some for circuit boards or whatever...” McGucket fished a heavily modified cell phone out of a pocket and chattered into it as he led the other three up towards the house.

“Gold what?” Stan asked under his breath as they went out of sight.

“Don’t ask. I’m not sure whether he’s serious and it’s not worth crossing the path of the latest Patrol-O-Bot prototype to find out.” Ford peeled out of his sweater and hung that up next to his coat. “Where do we start?”

It took most of an hour for McGucket to make it back down to the garage, by which time they’d gotten the engine fluids drained and the banged-up hood removed. “Nice dings y’got there! Ford, she said it was that magnet gun o’yours did the deed? Maybe we can set up opposin’ fields, pop that sucker nice an’ flat again?”

Stan rolled his eyes a little and tuned out the dense cloud of nerd words that McGucket and Ford generated every damn time they crossed paths. Gibberish along the lines of ‘get a few more horsepower out of it’ and ‘polymer coatings’ and ‘increased fuel efficiency’ bounced back and forth as he methodically disassembled and labeled everything in the engine compartment.

They were all sweaty and grimy by the time Clary and the grand-nibs reappeared. Clary looked up at the sling-suspended engine with worried eyes, then drew breath and squared her shoulders, jangling a set of keys by their fish-shaped fob. “Guess who’s got a loaner,” she sang. “Tate is spotting me his spare truck. He let me raid the larder up at the manor, too, so I’ve got dinner covered. Anyone mind if I run the kids back down to the ranch?”

“What, all we had t’do for some replacement wheels was wreck the car even worse an’ drag it up here?” Stan grinned over her way and she grinned back, relaxing a shade. “Lookin’ good so far, Clary. Sure, seeya back at the Shack this evenin’.”

“Thank you, fellas. Thank you, Mr. McGucket!” Clary shouldered a canvas bag and headed for the far end of the garage.

“Call me Fiddleford!” came out from somewhere under the Fairlane.

The loaner turned out to be a lightweight pickup with ‘Tate & Backle’s Bait & Tackle’ decaled on the doors. Dipper, Mabel and Clary all loaded themselves in. Clary fired it up with a low roar and with three shouts of ‘wooooooooo!’ they peeled out down the long, curving drive back towards town.

“They’re going to get in trouble, aren’t they?” Ford peered out after them from behind the bulk of the kitbashed machinery he’d been using for cover.

“Less trouble than they’d get in if I were drivin’! C’mon, let’s finish pullin’ these pistons.”

Stan and Ford didn’t head back down until nearly sunset. They’d borrowed one of the manor’s ludicrous excess of bathrooms for showers, and Stan had ‘borrowed’ one of the thick, fluffy, pure-white, gold-logoed bath towels to take home through the simple expedient of folding it up and stuffing it under his arm.

The Stanleymobile’s usual parking spot was a lot emptier without the wagon angled in next to it. Mabel was waiting for them on the couch when they finally pulled in, snapping her scrapbook shut as they ambled wearily towards the house. “Gentlemen! Have we got a meal for you! How’s the car?” She waved them in towards the dinette.

“In pieces,” Ford said dryly. “It’s a good start at least. What did you make?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Mabel waggled eyebrows at both of them and vanished off down the hallway. “Have a seat! We’re almost done!”

The dining table was dolled up with a tablecloth Stan was pretty sure had been a curtain last week and a candelabra nicked from a Summerween exhibit. He grabbed a chair just in time to dodge Dipper, who scurried in to drop off a plate lined up with neat rows of salami-wrapped mozzarella, olives and tiny pickles. “Appetizers!” he called in passing, doubling back to the kitchen.

Stan exchanged glances with Ford, shrugged and reached for an olive. “This oughta be entertainin’.”

A low argument between the younger twins, just loud enough to be audible, was intercut with sporadic bits of crackling radio. Clary walked through to set a pitcherful of water and a few glasses on the table, then leaned in to speak softly. “The soundtrack was not my idea, got it?” Stan was struggling to stifle laughter by this point; Ford resolutely bit into another pickle.

Eventually the crackle settled down into what sounded like distant cocktail-hour strings. Mabel marched in first and set down a bowl of fancified rice. “For your consideration, tonight’s menu is produced by our executive chef, Miz Clary Merrick!” Dipper and Clary shuttled in serving dishes until the table was loaded down - garlic bread, a couple different green things he didn’t pay much attention to, and chicken in some pale lemony sauce.

Ford’s nose actually twitched. “Where on earth did you find capers?”

“The pantry up at the McGuckets’ place is bigger than my entire kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the weird pickled things in there. Capers were easy.” Clary laid a napkin across her lap and reached for the rice. “Let’s eat.”

The whole spread turned out to be about a dozen steps above meatloaf. Stan demolished a pile of chicken piccata, went for seconds and found himself fork-dueling with Dipper over the last bit. “Settle down, you two.” Clary nudged back from the table. “There’s pie for dessert. Maybe after we’ve digested for a couple of minutes. But first - “ She steepled her fingertips and looked out critically across the empty dishes. “I have a proposal to make.”

Mabel bounced a little in her chair. “We want to throw a picnic!”

Clary glanced heavenward. “My sainted mother,” she said, kicking the nearest leg of Mabel’s chair, “was a terrible cook, but she had a few specialities and one of them was the family fried chicken. We’re going to have the big dance thing next Friday. So, with your permission, Ford, Stan.” Her chin dipped as she looked at them in turn. “I’d like to host a picnic lunch that afternoon for you guys and anyone else you think I should meet before I pack it up and head out.”

Stan conceded the last bite of chicken to Dipper - kid needed all the protein he could get anyway - but stole the serving dish and swabbed out every trace of sauce with a crust of bread. “Is your fried chicken half as good as this stuff?”

“Better.”

“Sold.”

Mabel beamed, teeth and braces gleaming, and - too late - Stan sensed the trap. “Fantastic! So we’re gonna need to do a bunch of prep.” Her scrapbook came out onto the table, bang, and she flipped it open to a page festooned with tiny curling streamers. Clary deftly snatched plates out of the way, handing them off to Dipper, who ran them to the kitchen. “We’ve got an invite list started, but Clary and I will need to schedule a couple of meetings. You know, to get everything organized since she’s gonna host. That means we have to get Grenda and Candy and Pacifica over here to help out - we need glamour consultants!”

“This means a slumber party, doesn’t it.” Ford’s eyes narrowed, but Stan didn’t see any way to wiggle out of it this time.

“Since everyone’s scattered all over town, it only makes sense to gather here, doesn't it? We'll have to talk about the menu, the décor, the clothes, the music, there's a lot to do.” Clary plucked the piccata bowl from Stan’s slack fingers. “I’ve been extended an invite which I’m honored to accept, so there’ll be adult supervision. Surely we can host for one night?”

Ford groaned quietly. Stan raised both hands, knowing when he’d been beat. “Fine. Deal. As long as you deliver on dessert.”

“Oh, I’ll deliver. Has everyone got their second wind?”

“Heck yes,” chorused the kids. Clary stacked up the remaining dishware, whisked it away and returned with some kind of lemon curd pie dolloped with whipped cream. It was too tart, too sweet, completely delicious and almost gone by the time they were all too stuffed to eat any more of it.

tumblr: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

Ao3: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

“I’m glad to be here, Stan. I just hate it that I’m stuck.” She stares up at the dome light with tired eyes.

You could take a day trip to Bend with the bike.

We could probably get in another fishing trip.

So, that dance thing’s coming up on Friday.

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

4 notes · View notes

kammieceleek · 6 years ago

Text

20 Warriors Questions!

1. How did you get into Warriors?

Well, if I’m being honest, my sister started reading them first. She checked the first book out of our school library and convinced me to read it. I think I was in fifth or sixth grade at the time. Yeah, it was fifth grade, because I was in sixth grade when The Last Hope came out. More specifically, it was the summer after sixth grade. So, yeah, you can thank my sister, @pipatyp, for introducing me to the series.

2. Favorite arc?

Ooh, boy. That’s tough one, especially since I’m not a hundred percent caught up. I haven’t finished Dawn of the Clans yet, but that’s due to my two-year absence from reading the series. I have a lot of catching up to do. Anyway, as far as favorite arc goes, I’m going to have to say my personal favorite is either Power of Three or The New Prophecy. I love Power of Three because I love it when there’s a sibling dynamic between major characters, especially if those characters all have their own internal conflicts. The New Prophecy has a similar situation, but it also sets up some stuff that pays off in later books along with having my boy Firestar being a shotgun dad for five chapters in Midnight.

3. Favorite book (excluding Super Editions, Manga, and Novellas)?

Agh! Like I said, I’m not caught up right now, so that makes this a hard question to answer. I guess I’d have to say my favorite book is probably... well, Twilight. I can’t help it; despite my utter hatred of the title (I blame edgy teen vampire romance), it’s a pretty solid entry into The New Prophecy arc. Leafpool and Crowfeather’s whirlwind romance is actually pretty believable, while Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw’s arguing is by far the most realistic thing about these books.

4. Favorite Super Edition, Novella, or Manga?

This is another one that’s tough to answer. I haven’t read all the Super Editions or novellas yet, but I’ve read every volume of manga the series has produced thus far. In this category, I’d have to say my favorite is probably either Goosefeather’s Curse, Crookedstar’s Promise, or The Rise of Scourge. Whoa, hey! I got one of each. Cool! Anyway, I love Goosefeather’s Curse because Goosefeather is one of my favorite characters in the series, and it’s kind of a dive into who he is before he gets bees in his brain and becomes the laughingstock of ThunderClan. Crookedstar’s Promise was the first Super Edition I read after Bluestar’s Prophecy, shortly after I finished The Prophecies Begin. It was also the first book to get me emotionally invested in the series. Yes, I cried. Deal with it. As for The Rise of Scourge, I’ve always been a fan of villains with backstories to back them up, and this solidified Scourge in my mind as the perfect villain for Firestar to face. They have similar backgrounds, but not as similar as a lot of people seem to think. This is also the only book to even hint at the blood connection between them, so there’s that.

5. Favorite Clan?

Okay, this one’s actually easy. My favorite is RiverClan, plain and simple. Despite the fact that they appear to the Clan least able to keep their genes in their own Clan (Appledusk, Oakheart, and Silverstream, just to name a few), they are also the only ones that can swim. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a cat swim, but it’s adorable. And I’m not saying the others can’t swim, they just won’t. RiverClan rules the water. Also, they eat fish, which makes their coats healthier than the other clans. Cool.

6. Favorite character?

Ooh, boy. Here’s a stunningly broad category that’s difficult to answer. There are so many characters in this series that it’s honestly hard to pick favorites. Personally, mine is either Squirrelflight, Sandstorm, or the ball of sass and salt known as Ivypool. Squirrelflight (at least in The New Prophecy) was a ball of energy and cunning remarks, which made her all the more fun to read about. It honestly sucks we never got to hear any of the arc from her perspective, but we can guess a lot of her thoughts based on her actions. Sandstorm is incredibly patient and a damn good mom. She stands by her daughters after their lives basically get torn to shreds because of Hollyleaf and she’s also the one who reassures Firestar that Cloudtail would make a good warrior. As for Ivypool, her struggles living in the shadow of her sibling are pretty relatable, and you just want to see her succeed. She’s also a five-star badass once she turns on the Dark Forest, so there’s that.

7. Least favorite character?

Hands-down, it’s either Darkstripe, Sleekwhisker, or... Spottedleaf. And I can hear the anger now, but let me point some things out. Darkstripe is an annoying little fanboy with a tom-crush the size of Texas on Tigerstar. Nobody really likes Darkstripe in this fandom, though. Sleekwhisker is a goddamn bitch as well as a matricidal murderer (she did help drown her own mother). As for Spottedleaf, I can’t say that she’s a good character. Her only role in most of the books she appears in is to act as a guide for Firestar or Leafpool, or in Firestar’s case, a massive roadblock in his relationship with Sandstorm. She has little to no actual personality beyond ‘medicine cat and Firestar’s first love’ and, despite Spottedleaf’s Heart, I can’t say that I like her backstory. As somebody who’s going into the field of education, it made me very uncomfortable and I worry for any younger kids who maybe pick up this book.

8. Most Aesthetically Pleasing Cat?

Ivypool. I like silver and white cats. I think they’re really pretty. Also, I have this image in my head of Ivypool being this pretty teenage girl who’s super skinny and looks really weak, but then she slams a fully-grown Hawkfrost into the mud with little effort. Yeah, I don’t care how the cats look.

9. Favorite leader?

Leafstar. Weird choice, I know, but she’s had to deal with things no other leader has really dealt with: the invading rats, her clan having a number of kittypets as part-time warriors due to low numbers, being pregnant and still trying to lead her Clan, and helping to rebuild the Clan from the ground up. Not to mention, she’s still leader when SkyClan moves to the lake territories. She’s one badass Miss Mama Cat.

10. Favorite villain?

Mapleshade. Like I said, I love backstories for villains, and Mapleshade’s is even more compelling and tragic than that of Scourge. She really got screwed over by first Ravenwing, then all of ThunderClan, then Frecklewish, and the list just goes on and on. And, the funny thing is, when you think about it, she never would’ve become a villain if Ravenwing had kept his damn medicine cat mouth shut. Maybe then he wouldn’t have ended up murdered at the Moonstone and his body wouldn’t have been eaten by a hawk.

11. Favorite Medicine cat?

Either Goosefeather or Jayfeather. They’re both fun characters who have a certain amount of bones to pick with StarClan for screwing them over. In Goosefeather’s case, it’s because of his powers and the fact that he went kind of crazy towards the end of his life. Jayfeather is just mad for them making him blind and forcing him to be a medicine cat. The boy wanted to be a warrior, so let him be a warrior! Then again, the love of his life has been dead for over eight decades, so... yeah.

12. Overrated character?

I’d have to say probably... *sighs* Crowfeather. Despite me loving his whirlwind romance with Leafpool, he gets a little too much love from the fandom. And no, I have not read Crowfeather’s Trial yet. Like I said, I’m behind. Anyway, he’s not really a good father to Breezepelt, which is painfully obvious in the way that they interact. He was going to abandon his Clan for the sake of breaking two codes with Leafpool. And, on top of that, he barely acknowledges the fact that he fathered Hollyleaf, Lionblaze, and Jayfeather. He’s not a bad character, but he doesn’t deserve all the love he gets from the fans.

13. Underrated character?

Briarlight. This girl survived a freaking tree falling on her and breaking her spine, which paralyzed her from the waist down, and she still maintains a happy attitude. Despite the fact that Jayfeather doesn’t make her a full medicine cat (she can’t exactly collect herbs or go to the Moonpool, can she?), she’s more than happy to assist the medicine cats that ThunderClan has by soaking dried-up herbs, handling patients who come in the early morning, and just generally improving the usually sour mood that’s in the medicine cat den.

14. Favorite minor character?

Hm. This one’s kind of tough. I’d have to say Purdy. He was never an official warrior of ThunderClan, but he was a big help when it came to lightening the mood in the elders’ den. Purdy always had a story to tell or some sort of wisdom to pass on, not to mention the fact that he told those stories whether you wanted to hear them or not. Kit, medicine cat, warrior, apprentice, leader, deputy--he didn’t care. All you had to do was listen and he’d go on until you actively told him to stop. And he’s funny.

15. Favorite pairing?

Firestar and Sandstorm, hands down. I know a lot of people don’t like it because Firestar still had a thing for Spottedleaf, but to me, a good pairing is all about balance. Shipping two people with the same personality doesn’t work. It’s why you so often see an optimist getting shipped with a pessimist. Anyway, they balance each other out because Firestar is an idealist and Sandstorm is a realist. Not only that, but they’re supportive of each other, and they stick by each other through thick and thin. They became mates in The Darkest Hour and remain mates once they’re in StarClan. The only regret they have about their relationship is the fact that they didn’t have more kits! That’s a good and healthily-built relationship to me.

16. Least favorite pairing?

Tigerheart and Dovewing. It’s not because they’re from different Clans, either. I don’t feel like there’s really balance in their relationship. They always seem to be arguing about something, and if they’re not doing that, they’re avoiding each other because their relationship is ‘against the warrior code’. Yeah, we all know that one part of the code has been broken so many times it might as well not exist anymore. Their personalities, if you ask me, are a little too similar for this relationship to work.

17. Favorite friendship?

Sorreltail and Leafpool, surprisingly enough. It stood the test of time and Leafpool’s biggest secret being spilled, forcing her to give up her position as a medicine cat. Sorreltail keeps thinking of Leafpool as the friend she knew back before everything went paws-up, and that line of thinking is on display in The Forgotten Warrior when she specifically cries out for Leafpool’s help while kitting. I have no doubt that they’ll be reunited in StarClan and hunt side-by-side.

18. Favorite moment?

I think my favorite moment so far in the entire series is when Yellowfang is first teaching Cinderpelt about herbs, and she snaps at Fireheart for upsetting her assistant. It kind of reveals that Yellowfang thinks of Cinderpelt as a replacement for her two daughters who never really got a chance to live in the world that killed them. And most likely, it was the daughter who died because Brokenkit poked her with his paw and it was too much for her body. Seriously, that’s tragically funny.

19. Most tragic death?

I’m going to have to go with a rather shocking answer and say the drowning of Mapleshade’s kits. This is a moment that sets a lot of the series in motion, since it was the aftermath of her kits’ deaths that sends Mapleshade down a dark path. After she dies and swears revenge on the descendants of those who wronged her, she gets into the minds of many of the most ‘evil’ cats we see in the series: Tigerstar, Brokenstar, and Thistleclaw, just to name a few. She also messes with the minds of good cats, like Crookedstar, making them feel like everything is their fault. I have no doubt she’s the true villain of the series, but all the death and destruction that is brought to the clans from within--so much of it can be linked back to Mapleshade and her toxic teachings in the Dark Forest. And her toxic teachings can be linked back to the deaths of her kits. Patchkit, Petalkit, and Larchkit drowning was the event that set off a chain reaction that killed so many Clan cats, and it’s tragedy stemming from tragedy.

20. Favorite battle/fight scene?

And, after four days of filling out these questions, reading A Vision of Shadows, and thinking through my answers, I have reached the final question. I’m not a person who typically enjoys battle scenes, but I’d have to say my favorite is the SkyClan battle against the rats in Firestar’s Quest. It’s intriguing for a number of reasons, the least of which being that there’s a rat who understands and speaks cat! The rats are an unusual enemy because they’re essentially a hivemind--the only one that’s been fought so far in the series. Hivemind fights are fascinating because once you take out the big brain, the rest scatter. That’s exactly what we see! As soon as Firestar takes out the lead rat, the Clan has won the battle and secured SkyClan’s place in the gorge. And thanks to that, we eventually get Violetshine and Twigbranch (we are never letting Bramblestar live that name down, I swear to God).

So, that’s my 20 Warriors Questions. Now I challenge my sister, @pipatyp, to answer the twenty. I look forward to seeing her answers!

#20 warriors questions #my answers #Warrior Cats #Ivypool #Mapleshade #Personal opinion #oh no an opinion

5 notes · View notes

midnight-star-world · 2 years ago

Text

#CountryMusic

MSR 5-28-22 Midnight Star Report 5-28-22

So today I will be bringing you the Top 20 Country Music Songs for the week of 5/28/22 with the help of both CMT (Country Music Television), the Billboard Country Music Airplay Charts, & even myself. So let's get started right now.

Number 20 belongs to Carly Pearce & Ashley McBryde who are dropping 14 spots this week - Never wanted to be that girl.

Number 19 belongs to Kenny Chesney who is new to the list this week - Everyone she knows.

Number 18 belongs to Jon Pardi who is moving up 1 spot this week - Last night lonely.

Number 17 belongs to Cole Swindell & Lainey Wilson who are dropping 2 spots this week - Never say never.

Number 16 belongs to Chris Young with Mitchell Tenpenny who are staying in the same spot as last week - At the end of a bar.

Number 15 belongs to Dylan Scott who is moving up 2 spots this week - New truck.

Number 14 belongs to Cody Johnson who is dropping 12 spots this week - 'Til you can't.

Number 13 belongs to Miranda Lambert who is dropping 4 spots this week - If I was a cowboy.

Number 12 belongs to Scotty McCreery who is moving up 1 spot this week - Damn Strait.

Number 11 belongs to Jake Owen who is moving up 3 spots this week - Best thing since backroads.

Number 10 belongs to Maren Morris who is moving up 1 spot this week - Circles around this town.

Number 9 belongs to Walker Hayes who is moving up 3 spots this week - AA.

Number 8 belongs to Tim McGraw who is moving up 2 spots this week - 7500 OBO.

Number 7 belongs to Keith Urban who is staying in the same spot as last week - Wild hearts.

Number 6 belongs to Hardy who is dropping 3 spots this week - Give Heaven some Hell.

Number 5 belongs to Parmalee who are moving up 3 spots this week - Take my name.

Number 4 belongs to Morgan Wallen who is moving up 14 spots this week - Wasted on you.

Number 3 belongs to Luke Combs who is dropping 2 spots this week - Doin' this.

Number 2 belongs to Thomas Rhett who is moving up 3 spots this week - Slow down Summer.

Number 1 belongs to Jason Aldean who is moving up 3 spots this week to take the top - Trouble with a heartbreak.

youtube

And that's a wrap for the Top 20 Country Music Songs for the week of 5/28/22 with the help of both CMT (Country Music Television), the Billboard Country Music Airplay Charts and even myself. Thanks as always goes out to both CMT, & the Billboard Country Music Airplay Charts for doing their weekly Country Music Song Countdowns. And thanks as well goes out to you for taking the time to read this weekly list. But before I go, this week's edition of the MSR is dedicated to Fido (A leopard Gecko that my Fiancee owned). Unfortunately he passed away this week. And it has been 2 years since my mother has passed away as well. So in theory, we all seem to have "Trouble with a heartbreak". And we know it will take time for those things to heal. But you never get over them, you just learn to deal with them better I guess. See ya all next time.

0 notes

salty-dracon · 6 years ago

Text

small town happenings

a lot of weird things happen in lily’s little town that no one notices until you examine the context

Val’s room, after the kids are finished filming a video

*post video thing that the ace kids think no one will notice*

Val: Hey, Brid, you doin’ okay?

Lily: Yeah, you don’t look so good.

Brid: I don’t know.

(Lily places her hand on her neck)

Lily: You’ve got a serious fever. You should go home.

Brid: My mom made me go to school. I have a 2 degree fever, but I had a test...

Val: That’s not good. Come on, I’ll- Lily, get some orange juice. I’m gonna get some Advil for her. Come on.

(They both leave the room, Angel walks in)

Angel: Heard you had a fever?

Brid: It’s only two degrees.

Angel: You’ve been over a hundred degrees all day and you came here anyway? ... Not that the boy couldn’t use some immunity, considering his eating habits...

Brid: Sorry.

Angel: You said you went to school too?

Brid: I told my mom I had a fever, our thermometer wasn’t working, she didn’t believe me... *Angel hugs her from behind* Hey, what are you doing?

Angel: I can kill them for you.

Brid: That’s nice, Mr. Perch, but-

Angel: No, really. I can. If things ever get bad... you let me know. I’ll take care of them, and I’d be happy to take you in one the deed’s done.

Brid: Not now. Can you let go of me?

Angel: Sorry. *lets go of her* I’ll call your mum. And don’t hesitate to talk to Val, either. He’s not as fundamentally lacking as he looks.

(Val and Lily burst back in with orange juice and Advil)

Val: We got the sip!

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

Julie’s backyard, and their chickens

Julien: So here’s Athena, enjoying her lunch- come here, darling- *hugs chicken* The whole flock’s been doing pretty well, I think. *footsteps* Oh, uh-

(Brooke stomps in and sits down on her back porch)

Julien: Hey, Brooke.

Brooke: ... I just made. The fucking stupidest bet.

Julien: What’s wrong?

Brooke: So you know how Grey wants to introduce me to the pastor at the Rastafarianism Something-or-other?

Julien: Rastafarianism is an African religion, I thought you told me he was-

Brooke: So, I was complaining to him about how my stupid fucking precalc teacher wants to give a stupid fucking test about stupid fucking derivatives, even though she hasn’t taught shit. So I was complaining about that shit to Grey, and he was like, ‘so you’ll be studying on Monday’ and I was like, yeah! It wasn’t going to be fun, but yeah!

Julien: Fuckin’ hate precalc.

Brooke: So then, I start yelling about how fucking stupid the test was going to be, and then he was like, “the Lord can’t get you out of your contractual obligations” and I was like “well I sure as hell would like to hang out with a lord that COULD”-

Julien: Oh dear.

Brooke: -and then he said, “Then I’ll let him know, in exchange for you meeting him if the test is cancelled or postponed.” which is basically code for him taking me to his Proletarian church to meet his pastor because I’m a good girl or something-

Julien: Proletarian is a reference to Marxism. I think you’re trying to say-

Brooke: I’m a BAD GIRL! I’m a BAD ASS BITCH!

Julien: We know, Brooke. We know.

Brooke: So I walk into class today, and my teacher fucking tells me that the test has been postponed. Because she accidentally scheduled a date on the same day and had no time to make questions. So she held a review session.

Julien: Holy shit.

Brooke: And I’m like, great, how am I gonna weasel my way outta this one? And I get home, and Grey already knows. Like, he’s like, ‘hey I heard from a friend that your test got postponed looks like we can go after all and you still get to do your test’ and then like ‘the lord is happy and so am i’ and I was like no fuck you and I left.

Julien: And now you’re here.

Brooke: And now I’m here.

Julien: Some lord, huh?

Brooke: No, I refuse to fucking believe that. That ASSHOLE somehow knew that I’d get that test postponed. Like, he’s famous, okay? He must have made a call or something.

Julien: Did you jump out the window again?

Brooke: .... No.

Julien: Wanna help me feed the chickens?

Brooke: ... Yes please.

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

Adrian is hanging outside with Larkspur

Adrian: Okay, this fucker, who’s basically my cousin’s beta, thinks he’s a real fucking vampire.

Larkspur: And this child, who still lives in his mother’s basement and forgot to apply to college twice, thinks he is also a real vampire.

Adrian: I haven’t aged since 16, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

Larkspur: Mentally, maybe.

Adrian: Fuck you.

Larkspur: I do age, Adrian, but I maintain my youth. Plus I’ve nearly got my degree.

Adrian: In what? Bottoming?

Larkspur: Accounting.

Adrian: Fucking boring.

Larkspur: Well, at I’ll never be unemployed. Unlike someone. And the world needs good accountants. When the Nazis take over again they’ll need good accountants, and I’ll already be long dead by the time Star Trek happens, so...

Adrian: ... what the fuck. Okay fine what’s the integral of 2x+5 from 0 to 1?

Larkspur: Six.

Adrian: Shit. Okay, what’s the integral of 1/x from 3 to 5?

Larkspur: Log of 5/3.

Adrian: What the fuck?

Larkspur: Hit me with something harder

Adrian: Intregral of x^3 + x from 6 to 2!

Larkspur: ....

Adrian: See, that one’s-

Larkspur: -336. You said 6 to 2, so the correct answer’s negative, just so you know.

Adrian: ... are you shitting me

Larkspur: Accounting just requires adding numbers and memorizing rules and formulas, not integrals.

(edit: fixed a lot of math)

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

(Lily is eating cookies with young Ares and Venus)

Lily: God I wish I was you.

Ares: Why? High school’s fun, right?

Lily: Well... yeah, I guess...

Venus: Do you wish you were me too, Lily?

Lily: .... Sure?

Venus: Yay! I wish I was you!

Lily: No, kid, no you don’t...

Val: You say you hate kids, and then you get along so well with them.

Lily: Nah, you can just talk to kids, and they’ll give you wisdom. They’re pretty smart in some ways.

Ares: She’s right.

Val: What the frick.

Angel: No swearing around the boys. Alright, the four of you can enjoy some fruit punch-

Ares: It’ll be three if you’re not careful.

(Everyone drops dead silent)

Angel: Three?

Ares: Because everyone dies, right?

Lily: Damn, he’s a baby goth.

Ares: But you won’t die.

Val: ... what do you mean

Angel: ... yeah what do you mean

Ares: They’ll find you someday.

Lily: I am going to... turn off this recording now...

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

(Tommy and Narin are hanging out near a pool at nighttime)

Narin: We’re going skinny dipping!

Tommy: And no one’s stopping us!

Narin: And I invited friends!

Tommy: Wait, what friends?

Narin: Mai-Mai, Adri, Tawny, and Drake!

Tommy: ... the monster hunting club?

Narin: They’re not real monster hunters-

(They turn around, there’s a set of glowing eyes behind the chain link fence)

Narin: What is that.

Tommy: R U N

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

(AN: Angel has killed and is currently looking for an excuse to kill again, Grey has the ability to chat with the heavens, Larkspur is a real fucking vampire but Adrian isn’t, Ares has the ability to read minds and knows that Angel wants to kill Val even though he can’t quite put it into words, and one of Narin’s friends is a werewolf)

#life as an aj #secretagents #halfwaydead #tmx #weareanml

1 note · View note