#he's playing up the facade and persona that sam thinks him to be

[angelsdean]

specific writers being freaks and misunderstanding dean and putting words in dean's mouth that completely contradict every single interaction dean's had with teenage girls to push some sort of agenda / perception that dean is pervy toward teenage girls my absolute beloathed.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 3

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Masterlist

Summary: At the fundraiser, you and Parker go undercover as husband and wife. Which puts you two in some very interesting positions.

Word count: ~6.5k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Fake dating!! Forced proximity!!! (< my excitement for those tags lol). Kissing. Banter. A lil' bit of jealousy. Sneaking around. Mention of throwing up. Swearing. Tension.

A/n: Sorry it's been awhile. You know how it is. Thank you for the love on the past parts :) I like how this one turned out. Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! <3

As soon as Parker led you through the towering front doors of the mansion, you clung just a little tighter to his arm. Your fingers fidgeted with the simple wedding ring sitting on your ring finger, something he had picked up yesterday — presumably from “the guy he knew.” To save your nerves, you hadn’t asked, instead just accepting the likely fake diamond ring that felt too heavy and gaudy for your tastes. It certainly fit right at home here.

People in gowns and tuxedos you guessed cost more than you could ever afford walked throughout the sprawling main room. The clicking of their shoes against the hardwood floor joined their voices and the small live orchestra sitting near the podium at the other side. The sight of all these people only made your fingers play with the ring faster, your nerves alight.

A soft touch along the back of your hand had you stopping your fidgeting, your muscles stilling as you looked to your right. You slowly blinked your eyes at Parker’s, the chandeliers above bringing out the shades of brown they held.

In the boyish grin he gave you, there was calm reassurance flashing across his face. It sat somewhere between the confidence of his persona for the night, Sam, and the smugness of the Parker you were often met with. In an instant, his expression dropped easily into the facade as he grabbed two flutes of champagne for you both from a passing waiter holding a tray.

“For you, dear,” he said, handing one to you before taking a sip of his own. You watched his gaze flick across the crowd of wealthy guests. Maybe they were in the dark about where their donations went, but you guessed that more than a few knew the truth — and benefited from it. 

“Hello,” a soft voice said from behind you, and your body fought the urge to jump at the sound. A smile that didn’t reach all the way up to your eyes spread across your face as you turned. 

Parker’s arm wrapped around your back while you were met with an older couple focused on the two of you. The women introduced themselves, but you found trying to play your part convincingly while focusing on their names and the conversation proved harder than you’d expected. Especially as the heat of “your husband’s” body settled along yours.

But Parker’s voice pulled you back into the moment as he answered a question they must have asked, the rumble of his voice vibrating against you. “Rose’s grandmother recently passed. She loved this city and Beaumont’s work. The two of them were good friends, so we’re here to support him in her memory.”

The one on the left reached her hands out, clutching onto your free one. “I’m so sorry. What you’re doing here would make her very proud.”

You quietly thanked the woman before her wife asked, “And what do you two do for work?”

A long beat of silence passed over all of you, to the point where you could hear Parker swallow hard beside you. In all the planning you’d done the last few days, neither of you had come up with jobs. 

Shit.

“Teacher.”

“Teacher.”

You both said the word at the same time, a slight panicked look passing between you. 

You turned back to the women, letting out a laugh that felt too tight and forced. “My grandmother left our family money. To donate,” you clarified with a straight smile. You muttered out, “Since there’s not too much money in teaching…”

“Oh, how lovely. Do you work together?”

“Not anymore,” Parker answered. “But we’re happy with our jobs.”

“And what do you teach?”

Internally, you clenched your jaw and cursed these women for being so friendly and asking so many questions you didn’t think about beforehand. But that didn’t seem to stop Parker as he responded with ease.

“Chemistry for high schoolers. And Rose here teaches, um…” His words briefly trailed off, his tongue coming out to wipe over his bottom lip as he hesitated. Okay, maybe not as smooth as you’d hoped.

“English,” you finished for him. Leaning into Parker, you let out a laugh. It almost felt natural to place your hand on his chest as you spoke, lied, to these women. “Sam would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him.”

That sent them both into loud giggles, a smile spreading across your face as they held onto one another.

“Oh, you two sound like an old couple already,” the left woman said between breaths. 

At least you had the bickering side of things down already. 

But as their laughter died down, the one on the right opened her mouth once more, probably to ask another question you had no answer to. The tightness holding your body hostage sagged as another couple came up, hugging the two women like longtime friends. 

Your rapid heart silently thanked Parker as he took the moment to lead you both to a quiet corner and around the crowd of people waltzing to the soft music, but you still gritted out, “You didn’t think to come up with our careers?”

“Guess my pea-sized brain can’t do all of the work here. What’s your excuse?” he whispered back. His words had you shoving your elbow into your side, but all it did was earn your bare arm a light pinch from him. 

Finding a quiet-enough area, your steps slowed, letting your mind calm down for a moment. Somehow, Parker still wore that casual smile as one hand held the glass and the other sat along your side. But you took a step out of his grasp once you saw no one was looking, letting the space between you two give you extra room to breathe. To think.

You took in the sight of the busy mansion. Mentally, you ignored the now cold spot from Parker’s missing heat, instead marking doors and noting who spoke with who. You were able to recognize some of the attendees — most of which were other local politicians. 

How far did all of this go?

Before you could think further, Parker leaned over to speak close to your ear, a distinct scent of  coffee and something familiar wafting from him. You’d expected him to explain your next steps, so you quickly looked at him in surprise when he asked, “Did you want to be a teacher as a kid?” 

Raising an eyebrow, scanning the expression he wore, you replied, “Yeah… I did. You too?”

“Yeah…” He nodded, staring downward as if in thought.

Your attention went back out to the people, chewing on the inside of your cheek as brief moments passed in silence. All too quick, he followed up with, “Though there’s not much espionage or breaking and entering in teaching these days.”

You gave a quiet laugh, suddenly wishing you’d gone into teaching. The thought made you take another sip of your champagne. A small sip — you needed to stay focused on tonight and learn as much as possible about Beaumont.

But Parker once again came close, the back and forth of him almost making your head spin more than the alcohol could. He whispered, “I spotted a sort of VIP section I could make my way into. It’d be easier to do with just one person, so you can mingle yourself into some important conversations. Beaumont’s not out here. And his little speech and the auction aren’t until later anyway. How does that sound?”

His eyes traced over your face. A slight crease forming between his eyebrows was the only indication that he wasn’t actually the suave Sam Bennet.

You gave a few hesitating nods, your gaze looking at anything but his eyes. You could do this — you’d spoken with people to get information from them before. And even if you couldn’t, maybe Rose could.

Before leaving, Parker shot back the rest of his champagne and set the glass on the nearest flat surface. You fought back a disbelieving scoff when he winked at you and strode toward a closed door on the other side of the room. 

For a few moments, all you could do was watch after him. The party felt much bigger as you stood there alone. A small part of you wondered whether he also felt like that.

You shook your head, clearing your mind with a deep breath in and out. You straightened your back and lifted your chin. Scanning the crowd, you spotted a member of Ellis Beaumont’s team. The middle-aged man stood along the wall near the orchestra, his attention fixed on his phone. You felt as if you’d found your prey as you set down your drink and made your way toward him, one heavy step in front of the other.

You knew he handled marketing for Stronger Together and Beaumont in general, a target full of information ripe for your picking — information you could ask about without drawing suspicion. But all the false confidence you built up deflated as you approached, watching as another member of Beaumont’s team pulled him aside for a hushed conversation. 

Swallowing down a frustrated groan, you instead pivoted to look as if you were enjoying the band. The dancing strings and piano would normally be lovely to listen to, but now it felt like the soundtrack to a headache threatening to form along your temples. 

The two team members walked to the door Parker went through. You didn’t have long to look around for another person to question before you felt a presence to your left. 

“So, do you prefer the upbeat plucking style of Brahms or the legato tone of Debussy?”

The question came from the young man next to you, and within an instant of seeing his styled hair the color of the night and the sharp line of his jaw, you knew who he was.

“I’m just kidding,” he said, flashing a white smile that crinkled the corner of his dark eyes. “Classical music’s never been my strong suit, and I stopped learning their names years ago. Though…” He paused, admiring you, “I wouldn’t mind learning yours.”

Your mouth opened slightly, your mind forcing out a small laugh that you hoped sounded believable enough. Was this actually happening?

Shaking your head, you stuck out your hand. “That might be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. But the name’s Rose,” you told him. 

He took your hand, wrapping his long fingers along your skin with a smile that could take anyone’s breath away. “You’re not wrong about that, but it got you to talk to me,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m Will.”

You bit back the urge to say I know. You’d done enough research to recognize William Beaumont, the only child of Ellis. In his mid-20s, Will had already quickly risen through the ranks of politics — though not that it seemed to interest him all that much.

But he had to know something and might just share that knowledge with you. Whether he saw the wedding ring around your finger, he didn’t say. 

Flirting for information was not something you had much experience in (or any experience in), but how hard could it really be?

At the expectant look he gave you, one that said he’d rather have his attention on you than anything else in the world, it suddenly felt very hard.

Shoving down your worries and trying to fall into your role like Parker could, you smiled sweetly at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Will.” You let your hand drop back to your side as you said, “And for the record, I’d have to go with Debussy.”

His hands sat casually in his pockets, his head giving a light nod. “Since I’m not entirely sure who he really is, I’ll have to agree with you.” He let out a soft laugh, his easy tone lightening the tightness in your chest just a fraction. 

A moment passed as you laughed along, the band continuing to play softly. “So, if you were being honest with me, do you ever get tired of these things?”

He sent a sly side eye your way, a smirk crossing his face. “If we’re being honest, then I’d have to say yes. If you’re going to repeat my answer to my father or his associates, then I’d say that I never bore of helping this wonderful city of ours.” The way his voice turned almost mocking at the end made you hide a smile, your face turning slightly away from him.

“What a very professional answer. I can only imagine how many meetings you’ve had to sit in on and say something like that.”

“An excessive amount, yes,” he said, running a hand down his jaw.

“Do these fundraisers all go the same way? Conversing, speech, dinner, auction, then more conversing? I’ve never attended one like this before.”

He gave a short nod. “For the most part. It’s close to the same speech every time, and nearly the same kinds of things auctioned off — most of them coming from donations made primarily by the wealthiest guests here.”

Things you were sure you could only imagine owning. The thought of listening to another speech from Beaumont after all your research only made the small stabbing in your head increase.

Trying to sound casual, unassuming even, you asked, “And what do you exactly do?”

His face shifted toward an unreadable look, making you fight uneasiness rising through your body. You followed up with, “I think it’d be boring if you just sat and listened, so I hope you get to actually play some part in the organization.”

You watched his gaze consider you for a moment, the seconds passing forcing your heart into your throat. Part of you debated faking getting an emergency phone call to get away if this went south.

Tilting his head, a soft smile spread across Will’s face. He held out his hand toward you, palm facing up. “Would you care to dance with me, Rose?”

A twisting feeling reeled through your stomach, your body on edge in an instant. At your hesitation, he said, “Just one dance. And I can answer your question while we’re out on the floor.”

As you raised your hand and laid it in his, you mentally said every expletive you knew at this terrible summer internship, at Parker, and at yourself. But you held an easy smile while the two of you made your way to where others danced along to the orchestra’s playing.

He brought your right hand up in his left, his other hand smoothing across your arm and landing on your back. You tried focusing on your fingers laying atop his shoulder, feeling the soft material of his jacket beneath you. 

“If we’re still being honest with one another, I am not the world’s greatest dancer. I apologize for any toes I step on,” you quietly told him, your words accompanied by a nervous laugh you didn’t have to fake.

His hold on you supported your body as he began to move, your feet trying to follow his. He gave a kind laugh, his hand squeezing yours once. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your gaze cast downward to make sure you moved the right way. Slowly, you began to recognize the repeating pattern of steps, your muscles becoming a little less wound tight.

“That’s it,” Will said with an encouraging tone. “Now, can you bear looking up instead of at our feet?”

A laugh slipped from your lips as your eyes trailed higher until they connected with his. You appreciated his kindness, but being here by yourself, there was no way you’d relax enough. Not until–

From the corner of your vision, you spotted Parker walking from that door he’d slipped through. You watched him begin walking this way and scan the crowd, one hand holding another champagne glass and the other running through his hair. It was only once he found you that he stopped, and it brought a relieving sigh from your chest.

As you danced and turned though, you couldn’t see Parker from this angle anymore, but Will said, “There you go. Not so tense anymore.” 

You offered him a grin, one that you fought to maintain as too many thoughts ran through your head. You needed to focus.

“So, I’m dancing,” you began with a laugh. “Your turn to hold up the bargain.”

He returned the laughter, those crinkles around his eyes returning. “Fair enough.”

People passed by in a blur as he continued to lead you across the floor, the orchestra’s music thrumming along with your heart. You’d long lost sight of Parker with all the spinning.

“Sometimes, I do just sit in meetings — whether I’m also listening depends on how boring the topic is. And other times, I pitch ideas for projects or try to lead them.”

You nodded. “Which seem to be doing well, correct? I haven’t followed Stronger Together all that closely lately, so I haven’t seen its impact up close yet.” 

Please, you silently begged him, to give you something.

His eyebrow twitched upward as he hesitated, the muscle of his jaw feathering. “It’s never as easy or quick as we’d wish, but that doesn’t stop us from working toward the organization’s goals. Especially ones I’m passionate about.”

“Like what?” you asked almost a bit too quickly. You tried giving a look that said you were just excited to hear about him.

“Like ensuring everyone has the right to a proper education. We don’t always have jurisdiction for these projects, but what does jurisdiction matter when people’s lives are at stake?”

A smile — a real, genuine smile — overtook your face. “That’s exactly what I say. How can we let red tape get in the way of helping one another?”

He let out a sigh, one that seemed to course from his whole being. “I sure wish my coworkers thought the way you did,” he said, pulling your body just a little closer to his. 

A small feeling, one spreading from your chest, hoped that he was telling the truth. That if you discovered Ellis Beaumont’s crimes and told the world, maybe there’d be a better future in his son.

As that comforting thought passed through you, your eyes caught a moving figure from the corner of your vision. You couldn’t miss the sight of Parker dancing with a woman several yards away. She looked vaguely familiar, perhaps someone involved with the non-profit. 

Your gaze drifted to where Parker’s hand laid on her, the deep plunge of her gown’s back letting his hand rest across her skin. The two of them danced easily, their hold on one another looking so natural. 

You eventually looked up, your steps nearly stuttering when you saw his eyes were already on you. They traced over your form, just the flash of a hard look crossing his face before his mouth began to move. Hopefully, he was asking a question that would lead you both somewhere. But even as he spoke, he stared over her shoulder at you.

That warmth in your chest spread outward. Up your neck, the heat snaked through your skin until your breaths came a little quicker.

Only once you and Will turned again were you able to break from the moment, to focus back on the man you were dancing with. You squeezed your eyes shut for just a second. 

Determined to get something out of this whole thing, you opened your mouth to ask him another question — but he spoke first.

“So, tell me about your husband, Rose.”

Your gaze immediately found his and the expectant darkness waiting in them. “What?”

“Your husband,” he repeated, angling his head toward your wedding ring. “What’s he like?”

A breathy “Oh” passed between your lips…

So this wasn’t flirting? Your mind couldn’t make sense of what William Beaumont wanted, not as you danced in his arms while “married” to another man.

“He’s, um. He’s nice.”

At Will’s laugh, one of your own following, you said, “Most of the time, he’s sarcastic — and I wish there was a way to attach a zipper to his mouth. I think, though, underneath it, there’s kindness that he doesn’t always show. But you know it’s there when you get to know him.”

As you turned again and made eye contact with Parker still far away, you mindlessly muttered, “Sometimes, I wish he wasn’t so smart. It makes me look bad.” A wry smile crossed your face, and you could’ve sworn the ghost of a grin appeared on Parker’s as well. “And while he’s the most chronically late person I know, he’s there when you need him.”

A moment passed before Will pulled back, staring at you as if he could see all the way through you. The orchestra played the final note of the song, your steps slowly coming to a stop. You could only stand there as he leaned closer, his mouth right along your ear. His breaths made goosebumps rise across your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Heart pounding in your veins, you whispered, “For what?”

“For dancing with me.”

With that, he pulled back, squeezing your hand once more before letting it return to your side. “Enjoy the night, Rose,” he said, nodding his head and turning. You quickly lost him through the sea of people, not that you really tried to search for him long.

Guests around you began to disperse to their tables, a sign to get your feet to move — wherever your own seat was. Lights dimmed above, creating a stir of conversation between people while you looked around, searching for Parker.

You barely finished the thought when he appeared at your side. His arm wrapped around yours as he whispered, “C’mon.”

You followed, the cold shock of Will disappearing under the warmth of Parker against you. But as you both weaved through people still going to their tables, you saw he wasn’t taking you somewhere to sit down and listen to Beaumont’s speech.

Instead, the two of you went through double doors into a hallway leading to the bathrooms. People walked in and out, and if you hadn’t done the research beforehand, you would’ve seriously questioned where he was taking you.

But you’d remembered there was an exit near here, past the bathrooms. There would also be another door — one that took you up and further into the mansion. 

With minimal guests around to witness, he walked right to it.

The staircase behind was thin and illuminated by only a few warm lights. Unable to walk side by side up the steps, Parker let go of your arm and led the way. You only heard the muffled sounds of the hallway behind you, making you a little hopeful that this wasn’t an often-used section of the house. 

“What did you find?” you asked, your hands pulling up your dress while you climbed the stairs.

After two flights, Parker stopped before a door. He turned the knob, letting it swing open silently into a hallway shooting off into many rooms. As he stepped through, he angled his head toward you and said, “Nothing. Which makes me very worried.”

All you could do was begin chewing on your bottom lip and follow him. The plush carpet luckily hid your footsteps, but every nerve in your body stood on edge. You imagined that they’d be fraying and burnt out by the end of this night.

“I know there’s something here though.” Parker motioned toward a door on your left. “You check that one. I’ll look in this one,” he told you, pointing to the room across from it.

Eyeing him, you grumbled under your breath, “A please would be nice.”

And without looking, you knew he was rolling his eyes. Still, you went to the room — even though some instinctual part of you almost insisted that it was safer to go together. You had no idea what was on the other side of this very nice and expensive hardwood door.

The only thing that got you to turn the handle was the sound of Parker going into his room without hesitation. Though you thought calling it the “sound of his audacity” had a better ring to it.

And following in his footsteps brought you to a… bathroom. Sure, it appeared fancy with its probably imported floor tiles and French-inspired sink or something, but the only suspicious thing in this room was why anyone would choose those ugly decorative towels.

Still, you looked through everything — even the medicine cabinet, which made you feel like some sort of rude house guest. You took a photo or two of the bottles inside, most of which turned out to be painkillers. Strong ones.

Before moving to the next, you listened for any footsteps or voices. With silent steps and slowed breathing, you crept from the bathroom — only to be met with Parker walking freely from his room without any caution. At the incredulous look you gave him, he just gestured for you to hurry up.

You made a point to glare at him as you approached the next door. As it creaked open, your body wincing at the noise, you stepped inside. At first glance, it seemed to be a bedroom, which wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. It had no computer to search through or a convenient map laying out their entire plans.

It appeared to be largely unused, a faint layer of dust coating most of the furniture. But as you walked toward a small desk in the corner, you saw some papers scattered atop it. Some appeared to be emails that held no significance without any context. Others seemed to be invitations to a few of Beaumont’s fundraisers.

The walls or shelves in the room gave no indication as to who these papers belonged to, but you took pictures of them regardless. As you set them back, you looked further down. The desk also had drawers.

One pull on it told you they were locked though, and surprisingly, lock picking wasn’t a skill you listed at the top of your resume. Maybe you could try and get through the back…

The door squeaking open made you jump, your body straightening up and hitting the desk. You stifled a groan as your eyes found Parker at the entrance of the room. Silently, he held up his hands — not in apology but in a way that was supposed to somehow absolve him of any guilt. 

You could already feel a bruise forming along your hip, your hand rubbing the bone. Parker approached you, whispering, “Settle down, Nancy Drew. Have you found anything useful?”

“Unless you can open these locked drawers, how about you keep your mouth shut, Parker,” you quietly gritted out.

His grin grew into something taunting. “Guess I’ll keep this mouth wide open then, sunshine.”

You watched with furrowed eyebrows as he knelt down and took two bobby pins from his inside pocket. Before you could even ask, he interrupted. “I come prepared, so keep your smart comments to yourself.”

Widening your eyes with a huff, you stood there, leaning against the wall. Your arms crossed in front of your chest as you observed him. 

“So… when did you learn to pick locks?”

Under his breath, you barely heard him mutter, “When’d you learn to flirt for information?”

As you were still processing his words, your mouth opening slightly in shock, Parker popped open the drawer. Any retort died in your throat — but stayed very clearly in your mind — as you looked past him at the papers he pulled out.

They seemed to detail some sort of… super suit? Scribbled notes sat on the margins of blueprints for a suit with metal arms, protective armor, even grenades. Almost like they were a mismatch of parts from Spider-Man’s villains. Doc Ock, The Rhino, The Green Goblin.

A shaky breath punched from your lungs, your stomach sinking so low you had to set a hand on the desk to steady yourself. Was Ellis making himself into a supervillain?

The thought barely seeped into your mind when you both heard a floorboard groan from out in the hallway. Your head whipped to the door, neither of you moving an inch. At another creaking sound, Parker silently made his way to peek out from the room.

He must have heard something you didn’t because his entire body tensed, but your hands were already moving. By the time he turned back to you with wide eyes, you stood next to him, your heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“We’ve gotta go,” he whispered, the words barely audible. You fought back the urge to say no shit. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to utter the words with how your body now shook.

Parker crept out into the hallway, looking both ways. He nodded for you to follow with a quick jerk of his head. But as you closed the bedroom door behind you, the squeaky hinges echoed into the air. Your eyes met Parker’s, his jaw tight as alarm flashed across his face.

In an instant, his fingers grabbed onto your wrist. He pulled you across the hall to the nearest room and clicked the door shut behind you. 

Through the whiplash from sudden movement to stillness in complete darkness, you felt a hand cover your mouth. The back of your body leaned against what felt like wooden shelves while your front pressed into Parker. 

You felt the beating of his heart against your own.

Despite him covering your mouth making you want to do the opposite, you willed your breaths to slow down until they were nearly silent. Though you couldn’t see, you guessed the two of you were sandwiched inside a closet of some kind.

You brought your hand up to remove Parker’s from your face. You might’ve pinched him if you weren’t hiding from whoever was also here, though that didn’t stop you from flipping him off in the shadowy closet. You felt him push your hand away with a quiet huff.

Only a moment later, through straining ears and clenched muscles, you heard a door open. Then footsteps.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the heat in the tight space beginning to grow unbearable. That, on top of your mind and body turning into a live wire from your nerves, made it feel harder to breathe.

And you knew you had to be quiet, but your back screamed at you to move from the hard shelves digging into your spine. As you tried to silently shift forward to find any kind of relief, you were stopped by palms quickly landing on your hips. 

You heard a strangled sigh come from Parker as he held you firm, your body unable to move any further under his grip. Your top half leaned into him more in this position, your hands instinctually holding onto him and finding hard muscles beneath. 

In the dark and under the threat of making any noise, you were unable to ask him what he was doing. All you could do was feel him.

But his head came nearer. You swore he whispered, “I…” before trailing off. He was close enough that you could feel the word caress your cheek. Then, as if time froze for a few seconds, neither of you even breathed while the footsteps grew louder and louder until they came so close to the door.

And then they kept going, the footfalls becoming just a bit quieter with each one.

You would’ve sighed had the hands on your hips not still held on so tight. His breathing sounded labored, his body rigid. With worry starting to take over your senses, you barely let his name pass your lips. So quietly, you whispered, “Peter?”

You knew he heard you because every muscle of his tensed. The movement had his arm hitting the shelves, and all of the blood rushed from your head as something fell and hit the floor with a dull thud. 

The footsteps stopped.

Parker grabbed your shoulders, his grip twisting the material of your dress wherever he touched. Maybe he knew that your mind was spinning, that your stomach threatened to empty itself, or that most of your extremities had gone numb despite the heat. He held you there, keeping you grounded as the steps became louder once more.

“Do you trust me?” Parker said, the words wrapping around your body with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

Your mind’s first instinct was to tell him no, you absolutely did not trust him. You wanted to ask him whether he even trusted you. But your throat allowed no response to pass, your tongue unable to shape any of the sounds. 

And… if you were to once again follow your heart, follow the pull in your gut, you’d nod. 

So you did. 

With that, he leaned forward to press his lips to yours. A quiet noise of surprise came from you as his fingers now danced up to hold your jaw. Only once you responded, your fuzzy mind catching up enough to kiss him back, did he lunge further forward. 

Quick breaths came from his nose as his mouth overtook yours. His body pressed roughly against you, the feeling doing nothing to slow your dizzying senses. Your fingers gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. And by the time you’d finally responded with the same intensity as him, nearly fell face first into the feeling, light flooded in from behind your eyelids.

Breaking apart from Parker with a start, you blinked until your vision made out the security guard in front of you. Your chest still heaved and your heart still pounded. Even your fingers still itched for him to ground you again — so much so that you grabbed his hand as the worker let out a scoff.

“Christ… Don’t you have anything better to do? Or any place better than this?” he asked, his flashlight flicking between the two of you.

“Sorry, sorry. We’ll go,” Parker muttered, his voice tighter than you remembered. He used one hand to shield his eyes from the light and put the other on your back to guide you from the closet. 

He made a good show of not knowing which way to go, making the guard point toward the door you came from with a tired look on his face. It took everything in you to not hide behind your fingers, embarrassment crawling up your neck and heating your cheeks.

Neither of you said a word while walking back to the main room, just pointedly not catching each other’s eyes. It felt harder to swallow, to think even.

Finally, outside the bathrooms, Parker broke the silence. He turned to you, saying, “Your, uh, dress.”

He approached, trying to fix the rumples he created in your gown. But you batted his hand away, unable to deal with his touch on you again right now. Your fingers smoothed it out yourself while you told him, “Flatten your hair back down.”

And before he even finished, you’d begun walking down the hallway to the doors. Anything to create room between you two — because you could still feel the weight of him clutching your jaw and the burn still present on your lips. 

And you didn’t want to think about what you just did for this story, or about kissing Peter fucking Parker.

His shoes clicked against the tile as he caught up. Your eyes saw a glimpse of him reaching out, your body bracing itself for his grip around your arm. But he stopped short, instead pleading, “Wait.”

“What?” you asked, a soft bite to the word. Your head sat on a swivel for anyone who could be watching or listening.

He gritted his teeth for a moment, thinking. “Should we go back? To take pictures of the diagram?”

With a tight smile, you told him, “No need.” 

Your fingers pulled the papers from where you’d tucked them into the front of your dress. You only paused long enough to feel smug at the surprised look on his face before hiding them once again. 

Without seeing whether he’d follow, you strode through the double doors — just always walking barely ahead of him. Luckily, your seats were near the back and away from the spotlights trained on the stage. 

Once settled into the chair, your hands firmly in your own lap, you let out a long breath. From beside you, Parker leaned in close, whispering, “Sunshine… Can I ask you something?”

Your eyes darted in his direction, nausea suddenly flooding your system all over again. You only looked at his shoulder as you slowly nodded, wondering if it was a mistake to do so. 

“Am I…”

He paused, and you could’ve bolted right then and there. Letting out a sigh, he asked, “Am I like the best kiss you’ve ever had?” 

He barely made it to the end of the sentence before his usual shit-eating grin returned to his face.

You relished in the way it twisted in pain when you kicked him under the table, hoping it’d leave a bruise. Partly, you were grateful he broke the tension, but that didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of breaking his foot too.

Turning back to the stage, you finally focused on the man standing atop it. That salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, and “winning smile” looked back in return.

It was hard to pay attention to his speech still going on when all you could think of was Beaumont’s diagram of the super suit. In your head, those eyes turned hateful, that smile cunning. You still felt them even as the speech ended, all of it just propaganda as you expected. 

What information you took from the auction was just how much money was going toward Stronger Together — which was a hefty amount. And all you got from the dinner was that they needed to learn how to better season their food.

After it all, Beaumont was immediately surrounded after the auction. People you assumed were shareholders or investors (i.e., rich people) took the conversation back into the VIP area before you could even think of approaching him. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could handle any more sneaking or lying for the rest of the night anyway.

But you had what you needed, for now.

And while making your way toward the mansion’s towering front doors alongside other couples, you could’ve sworn there were two sets of eyes burning a trail past your every move. One of them you refused to meet.

@reidslovely @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @dil3mma @hollandweather

[eemamminy-art]

not obligated to answer this but if you have anymore thoughts about alex sdv (or stardew valley at all) please share. i am obsessed with alex

Oh hell yeah anon you've activated my current hyperfixation 😁 I have a google doc where I'm dropping my headcanons and a bulleted timeline for a Alex/m!farmer longfic I've been writing in my head that's up to about 13 pages now ahaha so here's a few things!!

When he first moved to Pelican Town he was actually really quiet and reserved because he was still grieving heavily, so he never really got close to the other kids. He talks about how he played gridball with his mom so I think once he got the chance to play that in school (in another town no doubt) I think he came out of his shell then and made some friends, but all those friends lived far enough away that after graduating high school he's been pretty lonely and never could connect with the other people his own age in town.

He never goes into the saloon to my knowledge prior to the 10-heart event dinner scene, so I headcanon that it's because he doesn't drink alcohol and doesn't want the temptation to try it. I don't remember if it's said explicitly but I got the impression his dad's abuse stemmed from being drunk so I imagine Alex refuses to touch the stuff out of both principle and fear of becoming like his father one day.

I said it in another post but I headcanon him as gay and suffering comphet. He's built himself up as this cool popular guy, so he tries to emulate the sexist straight guys he's seen in movies but there's absolutely nothing behind it. He says something rude to a girl and then is like uhhh (shit what now) bye! 😅 I want to think that in getting to know the farmer he not only does away with that facade but also gets more comfortable in his sexuality!!

and on a sidenote to the above: I hc most of the town as gay or bi and I am toying with the idea of Abby being transfem! Sam/Seb is a given, and maaaybe they're in a poly relationship with Abby but I'm still undecided!! I like Maru/Penny as a concept but need to marinate on that a bit more, I see them always sitting together and it makes me happy but I need to think more on how they met and what their relationship would be like. I don't have anything solid yet in terms of other characters' gender or sexuality headcanons exactly, other than Caroline and Jodi being bi and desperately yearning to run away together 🥰

But back to Alex!! With how his storyline goes of trying to impress others with his jock persona, then trying to switch gears and be super booksmart, I headcanon that he gets close to the farmer via the farmer tutoring him so he can take a community college placement test. :3 My thought for why he's in the rut he's in is that he wanted to play college gridball but his grades in high school were so bad he has done nothing with himself since graduation and has just been stagnating and becoming more and more bitter (which only amps up his shitty attitude when the player first meets him). So trying to get educated is doubly good for him because he can work toward his sports dream (in a way) and try to impress the farmer. Though of course, the thing that brings them closer is Alex learning to be true to himself 😊

This is getting long, so last thing: he's actually a really well-rounded homemaker but does not even think about it really. George has been disabled for a long time, so all of the handy work around the house has to be handled by Alex, and he's so eager to help out his grands. :3 They put a roof over his head so of course he'll climb up onto it to fix the leaks when it rains! Evelyn is always cooking and baking and Alex is so soft for his granny he has been in the kitchen helping her for as long as he's lived with them, so he's actually got a real talent for cooking and baking too! One of the first things he learned after moving in with them was the proper way to set a table, and the best way to wash dishes efficiently. He's spent enough time at Haley's house having no chemistry with the poor girl, but found Emily's whole sewing setup really fascinating and she taught him to mend the holes in his letterman jacket when he asked so he knows how to hand sew! These are all skills that he has but doesn't recognize as skills, he just inherently has this desire to help the people in his life so he picks up this and that to make it easier!

Anyway! Thank you for letting me ramble 😄 Alex is really sweet and soft underneath the mask he wears, and he's been rotating in my head for the last few months hehe

I had bought sdv when it came out but barely touched it, and started it up again on a whim earlier this year and I'm so glad I did!! I really adore the game and it's bringing me a lot of joy currently 🥺

[chrisodonline]

I didn't "liveblog" the last ep because...it didn't feel livebloggable. I mean, it did. But it would have just been nothing but grousing, and I'm sure that would've gotten redundant.

The whole ep should've hit more emotionally, but the dialogue was painful in spots. And people were overselling it, making the hokiness so much more obvious. I get these were newer writers, but I also know enough about TV writers' rooms to know there is collaboration in every single episode. I...whatever. The Sam/Kam scenes were THE most (only) solid bits.

And I do not know who the hell was at the wedding planner because I don't know the two people that I saw, especially the one so obsessed with security and not wanting this stranger to call him by his first name yet totally throws caution to the wind and is comfortable making out in a public place. Near the windows.

The only thing I can figure is that Anna was being really weird, and Callen -- already notably on edge and still in work mode -- clocks this and is too weirded out to play along. You could tell he was starting to try, and then Anna was just SO extra he just wanted to poke holes in the persona she was putting on because he didn't get why she was being like this. And I didn't either.

Continuing on the "only thing I can figure" with Anna, is the fact that she's mentioned before about wanting to go full on "normal life." Or what she thinks is "normal" -- seen in magazines, Instagram, etc. She can't completely get out of it as we've seen; she still wants to do something adjacent. But she hangs onto the "normal" because she could only dream about it as an adult. She feels like she missed out on getting to be one of those little girls who dreams about your wedding day and grown up house because she was too busy being Black Widowed, er, Noble Maiden-ed. And the "normalness" she's seeking is so opposite of what she's done or had in the past for that very reason. Yes, the drama and spy jobs were how she met Callen. But it was also consistently what kept them apart time after time. After "Down the Rabbit Hole," I think she really, really was like, "I could lose him" and was so grateful she didn't. She wants to touch the normal that doesn't involve this kind of thing that could keep them apart...permanently.

And Fatima accidentally hits on this. She's frustrated with Callen, and hey, he got to come and have family dinner. She wanted to repay the favor, or so she thought, by helping Anna out with the wedding to give her a decent partner. But Fatima is all Beverly Hills. She's Hollywood. She's the Instagram wedding type. She makes the mistake of selling all this as normal to Anna, and talking about how this is that one special day when you get to just go full-on fancy -- and that's what everyone does! So Anna starts to adopt all of these behaviors, and she wants to play this part. She would NEVER truly allow Arkady to officiate (even if we, the audience, bribed her heavily). But doesn't it sound super sweet and touching to tell the froufrou wedding planner that her father wants to officiate? And the wedding planner reacts just as she thought she would.

Callen's facial reactions the whole time (and well done, COD on this) were such a mix of confusion that gradually started to turn into annoyance. He was not told they were playing this game, a game he really doesn't want to play. And I think he's trying to mess with her so she can see how ridiculous this all is -- at least for her to try to be this person.

So when he starts joking about this entire thing he thinks is a joke, a sitcom that he's watching, and grabs the piece of paper from her she at first replies like a high school girl. And then the minute she lets the aggressive part comes out that has been annoyed for separate reasons with him and trying to be perfectly pleasant in front of the wedding planner, a.k.a. Harbinger of Normalcy, it's the real Anna at the surface. The feisty one that Callen knows is the real her. And once the facade was broken, it was REALLY broken. And Callen was just so relieved that she was "back," he was like, "I guess she's on top of me now, so we might as well make out if this stops us from having to do that dumbass quiz." And then they have to run home. And this whole dumb d-story better not have been done because they needed a way to set up Anna getting accidentally pregnant because they were a little too impulsive that day.

Anyway, this comes after what we got of their relationship in the early part of the season, super healthy conversations that made them seem like the couple the writers always intended them to be -- and not what we had really seen. So, yes, extra frustrating.

But who cares, right?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Not me. Clearly. That's for sure.

[goldentwst]

i’ve recently discovered your blog awhile ago and i adore how you write Azul!! may i have prompt 2 with Azul??

(🔪🚫 You suddenly have a magical artifact that lets you see into people’s dreams. Whose do you peek into first?)

2. 🔪🚫 You suddenly have a magical artifact that lets you see into people’s dreams. Whose do you peek into first? Pairing: Yandere!Azul x GN. Reader (No pronouns mentioned) Warning(s): Yandere, non-consensual touching, self degradation (Azul’s)

This was way too cool, you thought as you traveled under the shimmering depths of the ocean blue. Schools of small fish would swim by you, many of which poking you in the process or stopping altogether to gawk at the person with no tail. The coral reef below you glittered under the filtered rays of the sun, accentuating the color and vibrancy of the sea life.

An artifact that let you see into the dreams of anyone you wanted; You didn't think it was true, but Sam had been adamant on the fact that it was the real deal and it could be yours for the low, low price of five madols. Wow, what a steal! And if he didn't make you sign a waiver before buying it, then at least you knew such a suspicious item couldn't have been that bad. If anything, you thought he was just trying to offload a piece of junk onto you. In any case, you were glad you tested it out in the end.

Azul's dream was admittedly the most beautiful place you had ever been in. Sure, you had been to the Coral Sea before, but this was a dream world. Everywhere you looked made it seem like you were viewing the scenery through rose-colored lenses.

And it made sense that Azul of all people would dream of being underwater; You just wished the artifact had dropped you a little closer to where he could be. After all, this was his dream, he had to be somewhere around this-

While occupied with your thoughts, a large shadow suddenly swam overhead, and the fish that had been idly loitering suddenly scattered as did many of the others that occupied the coral below.

A bit spooked yourself, you looked up to find curling black tentacles obscuring the light from your vision as piercing grey eyes stared you down. You… well, you knew Azul was big in his octomer form, Floyd had said so himself, but this was just-

A disgruntled sigh rang above you. “Really now?” Azul’s dream self uttered, his large form slowly sinking to your level, “It’s bad enough that you occupy my thoughts during the day, but now you’re invading my dreams, too?”

You blinked upon hearing his words. Azul was thinking about you? What, had he been trying to think up his next ‘take advantage of the ramshackle prefect’ plan? Either way, you didn’t want to say anything that would spook him. Sam had mentioned that if you did or said anything too bizarre, there was a possibility the dreamer would wake up, so you would play along for now.

“Sorry about that,” you simply replied, keeping it non-confrontational.

Azul only sighed again, combing his fingers through his hair. The water made his already silky hair fluff up before he shifted his gaze to train on you again. In which, there was something a little eerie about how he looked at you. The feeling was emphasized even more by the curling mass of tentacles he possessed.

After a brief moment, he clicked his tongue followed by a mutter of, “Goodness…” under his breath. And before you knew it, a pair of grey hands slipped beneath your knees, and around your upper back, the water aiding in the weightlessness of your body.

“Azul?” Trying to maintain composure, you allowed Azul to seemingly take you into his arms as he used his massive appendages to propel through the water.

“…I’ll take any opportunity that comes my way. Even if it’s just a facade,” he said, a resolution in his tone that differed from his usual salesman persona.

Deciding to see how this played out, you remained idle as the octomer swam along the coral reef, his route soon taking the both of you over multiple large rock formations with gnarling seaweed growing from the cracks. Soon enough, he reached a cave-like hollow and took you inside. To say you were a bit perturbed by Azul’s behavior in contrast to the coy attitude he always wore was a bit of an understatement. From the few glances you spared, his expression was strangely neutral, if not a bit strained.

Now deep in the hollow with only a small hole or two piercing the ceiling, Azul set you down on a large, flat rock covered in some type of moss that felt like layers of velvet. Afterwards, he backed up to get a better look at you, or at least, that’s what you thought he was doing. It was hard to tell with that calculating stare of his.

“It’s not like you to be so quiet,” you said, your fingers grazing over the moss for something to occupy your hand with.

And for the first time since you saw him, Azul smiled; Something unusually soft, adoration reflected in his eyes as he sunk his body to the edge of the rock. “Well, I finally have your attention,” he said, “I can finally talk to you how I want, touch you how I want, all without getting reprimanded.”

Barring the statement about Azul wanting to touch you, you asked, “Reprimanded? By who?”

“Everyone,” Azul said somewhat solemnly, a finger tracing an imaginary line that led to your knee where he ever so gently brushed his knuckles against. “If they knew of my affections for you, they’d surely make fun of me for it. Floyd, Jade, the other dorm leaders… even you.”

Of all the things you thought Azul’s subconscious kept tucked away, his hidden affections for you hadn’t been high on that list.

“Azul… That’s not- I wouldn’t make fun of you for something like that.” And while you certainly weren’t sure what to make of his feelings, or how you would face him tomorrow, belittling what he clearly held so dear would be wildly out of character for you.

“But that’s the thing!” he cried, using his hands as he pushed against the rock to become eye level with you. His smile returned, along with a wide-eyed stare you had only seen once before. “I’m not some addled school boy with a crush! I’m in love with you! You carry the weight of my heart in your hands!” Azul leaned forward, some of his tentacles creeping over the surface of the rock and forming a makeshift barrier on either side of you. “And that’s why—! That’s why… it’s here that I can truly be myself… with you, where I bare all my impurities for you to see. And I love- love how you stare at me like I’m nothing more than the ground you walk on…..”

This… you think wanted to wake up now. To give yourself some space, or sort your thoughts, or something. As you backed up, Azul only pushed forward, a tentacle seizing each of your ankles while another slipped around the wrist you used to prop yourself up.

“Wh- Azul- hold on!!” you shouted, attempting to wrench from his grip, but the tendrils coiled around your limbs two to three times. “Listen- that’s not what I was doing, I just— Azul!”

Azul was laughing. “Yes…. Please say my name… Say it some more! Make it sound as meaningless as it is!”

You furrowed your brow, still attempting to pull free. Your tone reasonably accusatory, “Why would you say something like that? How did you get that idea in your head…?”

“Because that’s what I am, aren’t I? Aren’t I meaningless compared to you?” While his tentacles were effectively holding you back, both of Azul’s hands lifted to either side of your face. His fingers were wavering, his smile just as shaky, but his gaze remained trained on your expression.

After a moment of just staring, your eyes worriedly shifting between his, you lightly shook your head, the movement barely noticeable. “…No. Never…”

And whether or not that was an encouraging answer for Azul, he seemed to take it that way. His expression melted under your words even if they had an underlying sting to them. It both perplexed and frustrated you. But not as much as when he caught you off guard, lifting one of your legs and forcing you to fall onto your back. The moss easily caught your fall, but that didn’t distract from the fact Azul had pressed a kiss to the heel of your foot, his lips then grazing themselves across your skin to the bone of your ankle.

Azul held your calf with one hand while the other held your foot, his grasp with each tender in nature as if worshipping something divine.

However, you didn’t bode so well after being moved like that, and when you felt something latch onto the end of your leg, it was just instincts that told you to kick whatever had done so.

While the tentacles had successfully slipped from your joints, you did feel a sense of dread creep up your spine the moment you did so. With regret weighing over your shoulders the moment your foot made contact with Azul’s face, you immediately sat up, creeping to the edge of the rock to see him nursing his cheek, his face turned to the side. You swallowed the urge to apologize, knowing you were well within your rights to do such a thing, and this was nothing but a dream in the end, but it still left a sour taste, even more so when you noticed droplets of blood drip from his nose and bleed into the water. In all honesty, you were surprised you hadn’t woken up by now. Wouldn’t this sort of thing warrant as ‘drastic’?

“Azul, listen… you suddenly grabbed me like that-“ Your attempt to explain yourself is cut off by Azul’s tittering, the noises pitched and disturbing. And within a moment’s breath, all your limbs were seized again, the squishy texture of Azul’s tentacles tightly coiling your wrists and ankles before the rest of his body followed suit. Once more, you were forced on your back until the only thing you could see was Azul’s gleaming eyes and the inky waters that framed his face.

You were completely immobile from the neck down, every one of your joints pinned to the moss as the weight of Azul’s body intimately pressed into every bit of space your own body had. You even felt a tentacle slip between your legs, the thick appendage forcing apart the instinctive clamp your thighs tried to maintain.

And just as you opened your mouth to speak, to yell, another tendril sealed itself around your throat, firmly, not choking, but still instilling a sense of fear that rendered your last bit of resistance to nothing.

You didn’t think it possible for Azul to look like he had just been forced to run a mile in gym class, but with the heavy flush painted across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, the state of his disheveled hair amongst the water’s push and pull, you didn’t know what to think anymore. Both of his hands cupped the sides of your face, his voice overflowing with adoration.

“Is this how you would treat me if I were to ever pour my affections onto you? Ah~ I never want to wake up… I can’t wake up. I’m so absolutely taken with you that if I were to see you for real, I’d lose myself then and there.” Azul lowered his head, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “And everything I worked so hard to achieve would be reduced to nothing…”

Just as you attempted to swallow, your throat bobbing under the tentacle, Azul leaned forward to press his mouth onto yours. With it, you could feel each individual appendage coil just a bit more, the one between your legs rubbing something unpleasantly pleasant as he caressed your cheeks with the palm of his hands. In tandem with his body, he gently rocked his lips against yours, inhaling deeply through his nose until pressing one final kiss against your lips and pulling away with less than an inch to spare.

His words were hardly audible, and yet, they rang clear enough through the water’s pressure that you couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

“Please reduce it to nothing.”

[hermits-that-craft]

Homebound - Deya’s childinnit au

This oneshot is for the amazing @deyageka ‘s hotel arc childinnit au! Go check it out, please! This is long, 8 page or 2,641 words, long, please note!

Sam walked home that day, humming to himself. Really, he wasn’t going home per say - just to the small house that Puffy, Foolish and himself had built after they found Tommy. Sam was calm as he could be, he walked instead of using his trident in an attempt to calm himself down after how long the day was. Dream has pulled at his strings early in the morning, and Ranboo sent him on a wild goose chase the second he left the prison. 

Sam hoped that Ranboo’s alright, his message didn’t sound right, even in chat. Why would Ranboo need a totem?

Sam walked into the house, and felt mounting dread as lights didn’t turn on. They should have already been on, the only reason why they would be off is if Puffy had taken Tommy out, but she had sent him a message asking him to come home as soon as possible. They weren’t in danger, she had said, Tommy had just wanted him back.

“I’m back!” Sam called. He smiled as he hoped that the pair were just napping as he shut the door.

False hope can only last so long.

“Puffy!” He screamed, looking at the woman as she lied on the floor. Blood ran down her face, unconscious. Almost like she was dead.

Sam doesn’t remember much of what happened next. Of course, he knows what happened. 

Dream escaped, stealing Tommy. At least, thats the basics. He knows Ranboo was there, he knows that Ranboo was - is - possessed. He knows that Tommy woke up as he was teleported away. He knows that some of the toys that Tommy had were taken.

He knows that Puffy hasn’t woken up yet, even though it’s been three days.

Phil and Techno came around, Techno helping Sam track down Dream and the boys. Tubbo moved Micheal into Sam’s base, hoping that it would be safer. Quackity, Karl, Sapnap and George also joined the search party. The groups split up, scouring the land. Tubbo joins, looking through places he knows Ranboo frequents.

Sam has been banned from searching after Phil found him, half dead, in the snow. 

Ponk helps him heal, but it isn’t enough. Sam can’t - won’t, he’s too much of a coward - voice why he won’t rest. It’s his fault that Tommy’s gone. It’s his fault that Dream got out. He is - was - Tommy’s father, and his was - is - the warden. He failed his jobs. He let not only Tommy, but the entire server down by letting Dream out.

Dream was right, Sam can’t protect anyone, let alone Tommy.  This is his fault.

“Hey, Sam.” Ponk says softly, carrying in some warm soup. “You up to eat now? I’ll eat some too, it can be a real date.”

There’s kindness in Ponk’s eyes, love and sympathy and caring in the brown eyes. Sam doesn’t deserve it. Sam’s hurt too many people, Ponk shouldn’t-

“You’re thinking too hard.” Ponk smiles, handing Sam the soup. “Stop blaming yourself for Tommy’s kidnapping. You couldn’t have known.”

“He’s gone because my prison failed.” Sam whispers. “I failed everyone. I was supposed to be the warden, I was supposed to protect-”

Sam breaks, sobbing. He can’t keep being strong, he can’t keep up this facade. It’s dragging him down, pulling him under the water. Vines wrap around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. The void would be a kinder death, he’s falling apart and-

And Ponk wraps his arms around Sam, letting the creeper hybrid sob into his arms. He holds Sam together, as the world falls apart.

----

“Tommy, settle down.” Dream rolls his eye, not that Tommy can see under his mask. The child is still annoying, but he follows orders easily.

“I want Papa.” Tommy protests, clinging to the Sam Nook toy that Ranboo had stolen for him when Dream took him. “Where’s my Papa.”

“I’m right here.” Dream says, cooing at the child.

“No you’re not.” Tommy glares, tears forming in his tiny eyes. “I want my Papa and Big Q and Karl and Foo’ish and Mama Puff and Sap and George!”

George.

“Do you like George?” Dream asks quietly, shock filling his chest. He could have George back, his best friend.

“Yeah! He reads to me and is safe.” Tommy smiles, tapping the Sam Nook toy around. “Makes me sleepy, though.”

“How would you feel if I asked George to come around?” Dream offers, taking out his communicator.

“Will he?” Tommy looks up, happily. 

“I’m sure he’d love to.” Dream says, and Tommy cheers, throwing Sam Nook to the side as he gives Dream a hug. “But now you need to go to bed.”

Tommy whines, but doesn’t struggle as Dream picks him up. The small child - only two or three years old at most - yawns, snuggling in to sleep as Dream places him in the bed. Dream smiles from under his mask, shutting the door slightly as he leaves. Dream walks down the stairs, watching through the door as Ranboo tidies up the living room. 

Dream whispers to Georgenotfound: Would you like to come around, I haven’t seen you since I left prison. Dream whispers to Georgenotfound: You can bring Sapnap as well, I guess. But I’d like to catch up with you - and tommy’s missing you i guess :/ Georgenotfound whispers to Dream: What are your co’ords? I’ll come now. We can bring Sapnap once he’s calmed down.

Dream smiles, sending through the coordinates without a second thought. Of course George would agree to come around. George is his best friend, he’s Dreams other half. George - and Puffy, a traitorous part of his brain whispers - would do anything for him.

Ranboo stops cleaning for a moment, looking up the stairs. Dream frowns, following his line of sight. No one is there, but he notices the small sobs that emit from the higher floor. Tommy. The child must be crying, maybe a nightmare. He’s too young to remember L’Manburg, the disks or the wars. He only remembers some people, after all.

Sam is one of them. Tubbo was not. A child's mind is a strange place.

Dream walks up the stairs, pausing outside Tommy’s room. He knocks before he enters, warning the boy. Dream turns on the light, not knowing what to expect. 

Tommy sits up in his bed, his eyes screwed shut as he sobs. Tommy hugs Sam Nook close, but no words fall from his lips. Dream sighs, scooping the boy up and gently rocking him. Tommy blinks his eyes open before he screws them shut, crying again. Dream frowns, sinking to the ground as he tries to settle the boy.

“Please stop crying.” Dream mumbles, rocking Tommy. He’s so small, so fragile. Dream can feel every shake of Tommy’s tine body as the child cries himself back to sleep. 

Dream sets the boy back into bed, tucking him in gently. He’ll wait with the boy until Ranboo is done, and then he’ll go to greet George.

----

“Dream sent me a message.” George says, casually leaning against the doorframe. “I have his coordinates.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Eret gasps, covering their mouth. Bad and Phil stand up, looking over George with carefully concealed confusion. “How long ago did you receive the message?”

“About fifteen minutes?” George frowns, checking the time. “Yeah, around fifteen minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t tell us until now?” Techno glares, an axe summoned into his hand.

“I couldn’t find you until now. Are you guys coming or what?”

“Have you told anyone else?” Phil asks, pulling his wings out of his cloak.

“Quackity, Karl and Sapnap are halfway there.” George says, walking towards the coordinates.

“Sam?”

“Doesn’t need the stress.” George says. “He’s too sick.”

“What’s the plan?” Bad asks quietly.

“Karl, Sapnap and Quackity stake the house out from a distance. I go in, distract Dream and Ranboo, and then grab Tommy and run.” George says.

“Where do we come in?” Techno asks.

“I dunno, we didn’t think that far ahead.” George shrugs. “Work it out when we get there.”

And with that, they walk.

----

Dream stands in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil as he waits for George to arrive. He’s boiled the kettle twice so far, waiting for his friend, but he doesn’t want the water to go cold before George can have some tea.

A knock sounds at the door, and Dream cautiously walks over, opening it. White clout glasses and brown hair appears, and Dream relaxes, opening his arms for a hug. George hesitates for a split second before he sinks into the hug. Dream doesn’t - wont - think about it. The hesitation.

“Hey.” Dream breaths, and George smiles. 

“Hey yourself. How are you?”

“Good. I’m a father now.” Dream smirks, and George pulls out from the hug. “Do you want some tea?”

“The gosip type or the good type?” George jokes, and Dream steps aside, showing George the kitchen bench, where two cups are laid.

“Guess.”

----

“Why did George hug him?” Techno whispers to Eret.

“They’re best friends, he’s keeping up the persona.” Eret replies. “Letting Dream’s guard down.”

“Will it work?”

“Well, we won’t know unless George either gets Tommy.” 

“Or he starts screaming.” Phil says darkly, his wings fluttering nervously behind him.

“Dream wouldn’t-” Bad shakes his head. “No, this Dream isn’t the same one who played with Sapnap as a kid. Dream would hurt George, wouldn’t he?”

----

“Is Tommy sleeping alright?” George asks, trying to sound casual. “Sam used to complain that he’d only ever sleep peacefully if I was there.”

It’s a lie, but George and Sam had both noticed that Tommy would sleep easily in George’s arms. Nightmares would still happen, but Tommy would calm down faster.

“He’s been having so many nightmares.” Dream admits. “He also cries a lot, even during the day. I think he needs you around. Familiar faces and all that.”

“What about Ranboo?” George asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Ranboo hasn’t been Ranboo since I escaped.” George can hear the self centered smirk in his voice, the proud lilt of admitting that he’s controlling the teen. “I think Tommy can tell that. It doesn’t seem to bother him all that much, he’s seen my face and isn’t scared.”

George’s stomach drops at that, fear lacing his insides. There’s a reason Dream wears the mask. He doesn’t look safe to be around, he looks like if the void had a neon green eye and a glowing, neon green hole gaping where his mouth and nose should be. But George knows better than to mention that, only raising his eyebrows with surprise.

“I would have thought that would make him cry.” George jokes, lightly elbowing Dream. “Is he sleeping?”

“I hope so, do you want to check?” Dream cocks his head to the side, not too unlike a puppy. George nods, and let’s Dream walk him up the stairs. 

Now’s his chance.

---

Sapnap nervously paces, the treeline hiding him from Dream’s watchful gaze. He’s far enough away to see everything, but not be able to hear anything. It’s safer this way, watching from a distance. Karl and Quackity won’t get hurt if he’s caught, this way. He doesn’t trust the silence, and from the nervous looks on his fiancees’ faces, they don’t like not being able to hear either.

An ear piercing scream tears the silence in half as Karl makes eye contact with Sapnap.

“GEORGE!” Sapnap screams, running towards the house. Snow melts under his feet, he can’t contain his anger. “George!”

Sapnap slams open the door to the house, his hand melting the door handle. George lays on the ground, his glasses under Dream’s foot. Blood. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. George is curled around Tommy, who wails at the top of his lungs. George isn’t moving. Why isn’t George moving? Why isn’t he struggling.

Duck.

Ranboo’s punch misses.

Sweep your opponents leg out from under them.

Ranboo falls to the ground, his head cracking painfully.

Keep your eyes on the room.

Blood pools under Ranboo’s head. Dream laughs.

Don’t let your guard down.

“Did you really think that George could take Tommy from me?”

Don’t let your opponent see any fear.

“I trusted you both. You’re my friends. I can’t believe you would betray me like this.”

Focus on the fight.

“I thought you cared about me, all I wanted was for us to be a family again.”

Dream stands on George, and Sapnap can hear the pained weaze that George breaths out. He’s still alive.

“Eyes on me, Snapnap.” Dream taunts, and Sapnap’s eyes jump back to his once-best friend. “You’ve got to work on that.”

Don’t make the first move.

“Not going to talk to me?”

Go on the defensive.

“That’s rude.”

Duck.

“Let’s dance.”

Duck. Sidestep. Block. Jab. Punch. Duck. Owch, was that his eye? Duck again, keep focusing. Get to the door. Duck. Open the door. Punch. Step outside. Block. Run backwards. Duck. Throw a punch

Sapnap is thrown through the air, landing with a scream on the ground. Snow melts around him, and he lets out a gasp of pain. There’s blood underneath him, staining the snow red. It’s pretty, almost.

Sapnap can see Phil and Techno fight Dream, out of the corners of his eyes. Eret and Bad run into the house, carrying out Ranboo, Tommy and George. They’re safe. Everyone is safe now. Sapnap did good.

“Stay awake Sap.” Karl says, and Sapnap forces his eyes open - when did they close - to see his fiancee’s. Quackity cradles his head in his lap, and Karl fumbles with his pockets. “Keep your eyes open, yeah, that’s good. Keep it up.”

Sapnap groans as Karl pours a healing potion directly onto his torso. It wont help much, there’s something in his back, but he can’t speak. It hurts too much.

“Open your eyes.” Quackity says, and Sapnap feels warm fingers on his cheek. “Open your eyes. BAD! BAD SAPNAP’S-”

----

Sam watches out the window of his room as birds flit around tree branches. Ponk had left the room half an hour ago, just after he served breakfast. Ponk hadn’t said much, simply kissing Sam’s forehead and telling him to relax.

Sam can’t relax. He shouldn’t be allowed to, pneumonia or not. Not while Puffy suffers, while Tommy suffers. 

“Hey Dad.” Quackity’s voice doesn’t surprise Sam, who sees his son every morning.

“Hey duckling.” Sam smiles. “How are you this morning?”

“Good. Sapnap and George are in a bad shape though. Bad kicked me out of their rooms.” Quackity laughs wetly, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sam says, opening his arms out for Quackity. The man smiles, but shakes his head, wiping away tears. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Quackity says, and apparently thats a cue for something, because Jack opens the door to his room.

Niki wheels Puffy into the room, the woman sitting on a wheelchair, her hair falling down over her shoulders. She’s still got a bandage on her head, but there is colour in her cheeks and a knowing smile on her face.

“Puffy.” Sam gasps, happy to see his friend better, if not up and running. Sam tries to stand, to give Puffy a hug, but Quackity just pushes him back into his bed.

“If you’re that happy to see me, you’ll need someone to hold you back with who Foolish has.” Puffy jokes, though her voice is hoarse.

Foolish walks into the room, gently holding a wiggling Tommy. Sam gasps, and true to Puffy’s prediction, it takes Quackity and Jack to stop Sam from getting out of his hospital bed. Foolish passes Tommy to Sam, and the man holds onto Tommy gently, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s here. He’s safe, finally.

“How-”

“We’ll explain later.” Quackity says. “Just relax for now. Everyone is safe.”

[fyrsteskagr]

stop excusing essek’s actions just because he’s a nice hot nerdy drow wizard

ok so I’m probably gonna get some fire for it (or maybe not, considering that I have virtually no followers and I doubt this post will get noticed at all and that’s fine, I just gotta get that rant out of my head because otherwise it will stay there and start to rot and I have enough of brain muck as it is)

thankfully I’m not on twitter so I avoid a lot of (often kinda fucking dumb, ngl) discourse but even I wasn’t immune to the general discontent a big part of the critrole community seemed to have been feeling towards the way m9 was treating essek lately

and in light of the upcoming stream and last week’s events I thought I might as well throw in my two cents

I’ve seen a lot of people getting borderline scandalized with m9′s “do we want trent or do we want essek” consideration. and it reminded me about the double standards some people in the cr community often show. first of all, how dare the mighty nine not trust my poor hot wizard bean and almost put him on the same level as trent ickythong. well, first of all, from the roleplay standpoint: it’s been like. how long. three weeks? a month? in game since they found out about what essek did. we all had like a year to process this shit and the m9 only had a few weeks that were also pretty fucking stressful and did not leave a lot of time for rumination. and we, as viewers, get a lot of extra info from the cast itself, from multiple official sources that are not the show itself. yeah y’all, we know a lot more about essek than m9 does, I think it makes perfect sense that they don’t trust him and give him a cold treatment a lot of the time??

and like. he fucking deserves it. he deserves punishment. he’s a fucking war criminal and is responsible for sacrificing many people’s lives just for his personal gain and the fact that he acts all nice and timid and is also a hot drow wizard doesn’t fucking excuse him. the whole trent or essek discussion? yeah it makes fucking sense because essek and trent are a lot more similar than a significant part of the fandom would like to admit, I feel like. the hunger for power and knowledge? check. extreme egoism? check. destroying others’ lives for personal benefit? check. the false public persona? check. going behind own nation’s back? check. why the fuck would m9 feel any better about essek in this particular situation than they do about trent ESPECIALLY SINCE IT’S BEEN LIKE THREE WEEKS SINCE THEY FOUND OUT ABOUT THE SHIT HE’S DONE?

and as for the double standards. it’s been brought up in the community multiple times (still not enough, I think), but the show’s fans are a lot quicker to forgive the not-so-good plays of the male side of the cast than they are to the female side of the cast, and I’m saying this as a dude. I’ve been a part of this community for a long time and the shit marisha used to get for playing keyleth the way she did and the shit she currently gets for playing beau the way she does does not compare in the SLIGHTEST to the shit (or oftentimes lack thereof) any male member of the cast gets, and I dunno about y’all but I think I’ve had a lot more issues with some role-playing stuff on liam’s or sam’s part.

but going further, into the fictional part of all of it. it seems to me it’s often enough to be a 1) hot 2) preferably male character to have some shit forgiven and forgotten by the community pretty quickly. essek is a perfect example of it. a thought experiment: how would you feel about essek if he was a partially bald old human fart with liver spots and wrinkles? how would you feel about trent if he was a hot drow guy with showy outfits and a white fashion pompadour? if you’d feel about them even slightly different then SOUND THE ALARMS BECAUSE THIS IS NOT FUCKING GOOD (also: remember the heat veth got when she considered making the war worse for her own personal benefit? HOW IS THE ESSEK SITUATION ANY FUCKING DIFFERENT??)

and yes. a lot comes down to the way matt plays them and the fact that one of the player characters has a backstory with trent being a big and ugly part of it. but just like trent has a certain public facade, essek has one too. most of us came to really like him for his personality but I think we often kindly disregard the fact that at least a part of it was just a practised act and not him being genuine. we’re quick to forget the shit he did because he’s lonely!! he’s awkward and nerdy!! we want him to kiss the dirt wizard!! he had dinner with the m9!!! or we jokingly throw the phrase “war criminal” around and it just doesn’t sit well with me. the anger some people feel and show when the m9 dares to doubt him doesn’t sit well with me. and people can argue for essek and for his motives, yeah. but people can also argue for trent and his motives. those two are not so fucking different. and don’t get my wrong, I despise ickythong’s ugly ass as much as anyone, and I’m not putting him on level with essek - ikithon is a fucking abuser. but I’m also - surprise - not straight not immune to the “hot nerdy drow wizard very much morally awful but also kinda cute” spiel. but I try not to forget that a pretty face and floating an inch above the ground isn’t enough to excuse some actions.

ok that’s all I guess, anyone who even noticed this post and also got to the end of it - thanks and have fun during today’s stream!!

also a small disclaimer: english is not my first language and I can barely construct sentences in my mother tongue so pardon me for any dumb mistakes

(and a big thank you to my dude @tymiantime who took the brunt of my rambling and patiently listened to my all over the place stupid ass essek vs trent rant)

[violetmuses]

Oath || Chapter 2

Tag Team: @norabrice1701 @stylesthesunflower @dreaminrubies @lovie-barnes @zemoslittlebird @belle82devart @writteninsaturn @nerdysuperchick

======

2023

Angela Turner

In the middle of Sam, James and Helmut dealing with Selby as planned, I received another text message:

Helmut: Please enter the back room.

Now, after checking to stay armed, I walked through the looming shadows of Selby’s so-called private space. Most goons lined these walls, moving away from me as if quietly terrified of my presence.

“There she is. Put on quite a show out there, didn’t you? I’m impressed.” Selby asserted her dominance whilst perching nearly her entire clothed body onto one side of a stretched couch.

“I’m not playing games, Selby. Not anymore.” I clenched my teeth, thumbing the concealed firearm that tucked into the back of my pants.

“Oh, that’s right. Baron let you down.” Selby glanced between Helmut and I, noting something else without words. Her silver-ringed fingers gleamed underneath dim lights found overhead in this same room.

Sam and James barely kept their roles in mind. These two still looked towards Helmut and I with absolute silence.

“Tell us what you know about The Super Soldier Serum and I will give him to you, along with every code word to control him, of course. He will do anything that you want.” Helmut thankfully pulled himself together and rose from one extra chair here and lurked his booted footsteps to James, even stroking his chin to show more of this facade.

“Now, that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working, but things didn’t go as planned.” Selby offered another smile when Helmut sat back in his earlier seat.

James, Sam and Helmut had just learned some vital information on the Serum itself. On the other hand, I quietly wanted to remember that specific name of Dr. Wilfred Nagel.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Helmut offered another question from his seat across from Selby and lifted one of those gloved fingers again.

“Oh. You can have breadcrumbs for free, but the bakery’s gonna cost you, Baron. Before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby stood from her couch and lurked, but her authority still had been annoying, though.

“Schatz?” Helmut whispered that German nickname to me out of nowhere, watching me and showing the depths of his brown eyes

“Yes?” I turned my head towards him, playing along instead of fighting against our chaos at a time like this. We couldn’t avoid more drama.

Seconds before Helmut planned to respond, Sam’s cell phone buzzed unexpectedly. All around the room, Selby’s guards had lurked away from dimmed shadows and lifted their weapons. We would surely face another to attack soon.

After Selby requested for Sam to put this call on speaker, we heard from Sarah, his sister. This innocent and clueless woman did not realize that we were all on a mission in the first place, but I still panicked internally.

Despite attempting to keep up this fake identity as Conrad Mack, Sam bickered with Sarah. during his phone call. Meanwhile, I trained my eyes near the darkness of this space. James kept watch on the guards, in case someone else attempted to launch violence here.

“Sam, let me call you back.” Moments later, Sarah had acknowledged Sam by name, ruining our cover in this back room.

“Sam, who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby glanced around this room and yelled, realizing that Helmut, Sam and James faked their personas the entire time.

Just when I believed that bullets would plummet us all, only one gunshot pierced this glass window out loud and sent Selby directly towards the floor. In turn, she bled to death.

“They’re gonna pin this shit on us, man.” Sam worried. Wilson, James and I had taken down armed goons before he questioned Helmut.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons behind and just follow my lead.” Helmut had already stood from his seat and cornered myself near one door, lifting both gloved hands again.

“What about Angela?” James noticed me and faced Helmut, still looking pissed off based on what happened earlier.

“Please step away from us for a moment.” Helmut assert, lowering his voice. If James and Sam distancing meant survival, they had quickly listened.

In turn, both men lifted their hands and cornered themselves near the remaining goons. No one around seemed to care that Selby’s and dressed corpse now lined this ornate carpet.

“What?” I grumbled to Helmut again, still puzzled and angered by our current circumstances.

“When we move outdoors, steal a motorcycle and go to Hightown. Just promise to text me when you arrive, that way I know you are safe.” His accented English whispered like some lullaby, hoping to ensure my protection rather than shout orders like that terrorist he became many years ago.

“Why do you even care about what happens to me now?” I scoffed, almost declining his offer.

“I have lost everyone once, but I refuse to let it happen again.” Not even caring if James and Sam noticed, Helmut allowed his glove to palm my cheek.

Seconds later, I shut both eyes and took this short breath, finally realizing the true meaning of his words.

Eight years ago, he couldn’t save his family, so we couldn’t afford to lose each other anymore.

“All right. I’ll go. Do whatever you need to.” I barely spoke, feeling how warm his body felt underneath every layer of this uniformed sweat and the fur-lined coat.

Regret etched onto his clean shaven face just before we moved away from one another. Yet, Without blinking, he asserted dominance once more, leading James and Sam out of here.

Meanwhile, every single goon continued watching my presence, but kept their mouth shut as I snuck too, heading towards the saturated evening air.

_____

Outside this bar, digital devices and cell phones pinged through the island air as we had faced that pitch-black skyline found overhead. With Selby dead, one text message warned us that this major bounty was sent out for arrests.

After revving that “stolen” motorcycle as planned, I locked eyes with Helmut from across the street. Without James and Sam around, he nodded, quickly jutting his chin right before vanishing around some darkened corner.

***

We first met long before the destruction of Sokovia. Back then, I’d earned my keep as an Executive Assistant who worked for one conference organizer. That year, the global summit prompted leaders who had traveled from countries large and small.

Helmut’s wife, a remarkable woman named Heike, walked through the door first, using her somewhat free hand to carry her sleeping son Karl and greet my supervisor all at once. At that time, Karl must’ve only been a few months old.

“My sincerest apologies for bringing my son along. Our caregiver called to say that they were unavailable.” Heike pouted, still looking guilty as she held her precious boy close. Another man joined in with security soon after, donning this tailored suit.

“No worries. I could watch him for both of you. I’m Angela Turner.” I volunteered to break this silence, hoping to see my voice quiet here.

“Oh, no. We couldn’t possibly intrude that way. You seem occupied with so much work this afternoon, Ms. Turner. Thank you for the offer, though. I will continue watching him myself. This is my husband, Helmut.” Heike grinned, letting her amber eyes peered between me and her husband.

Helmut Zemo, Baron of Sokovia.

If I knew then what I know now, my heart would’ve broken right away.

Angela: I’m safe and booked a hotel suite.

A few minutes later, Helmut finally responded to my message:

Helmut: Thank you for updating me. Do you need anything?

Smiling for a moment, I replied back.

Angela: I would’ve asked for extra clothes, but the concierge told me that more wardrobe will be sent over. That bedroom closet is so large, there’s a couch in the middle.

Helmut: Surprise! You found my old suite.

Angela: Not bad for eight years vacant.

I tossed the phone back onto these covers and attempted to distract myself, knowing that if we traded anything else, I’d regret it all.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 19: Shadow - Shadow Of Myself

Danny’s gotten himself hurt, but not to worry Valerie’s here. Now if only that stupid ghost Phantom wasn’t tagging along for the ride.

Valerie shifts her blaster in her arms, the metal creaking slightly, not sure what to do with the situation in front of her. Danny, human Danny, her friend and once love; was lying prone on the ground unconscious. And Phantom, that damn ghost ‘Danny’, archenemy and destroyer of lives; was practically cradling his torso and head, staring at her with a guarded ‘will you hurt me or help him’ look.

Valerie swallows, clicks her visor open and squints at him, but seeing the blood pooling on the ground makes her decision for her. Immediately dropping the weapon and rushing to kneel at Danny’s side. Snapping at Phantom and banking more than a little on him maintaining that ‘superhero’ facade he insisted on, “what happened”.

“Guys In White”.

That catches her off guard, “what?!?”, as she starts pulling out first aid while Phantom phases Danny’s sweater off. She doesn’t care or know why he burns it to ash. At least his freaky powers were useful for something, getting the top off with far less jarring than any human could manage. Him getting his damn shedding ecto-energy or whatever in Danny’s wound, or wounds, seriously doesn’t impress her though.

Phantom grumbles incoherently as he works practically seamlessly with her, using his intangibility to hold the skin over the large bullet hole apparently there closed without getting in her way of cleaning and sanitising. Using an ecto-flame to sanitise the needle to speed the process up. He does give her an actual answer though, probably trying to be a ‘distraction’, “they put a few things together”.

Valerie pushes the needle through and tries to ignore that she’s doing this to Danny’s body not hers, “put together what, Phantom”.

“Things”.

She makes her scowl very audible but doesn’t look away from her task. That’s enough to prompt him to explain further, good, “it’s not entirely my secret to tell, Val-”.

“Don’t call me that”.

She can hear the eye-roll in his voice, “Red. It’s his secret”.

Valerie scoffs, though keeps her hands working smoothly, pointedly ignoring the bits of blood getting smeared around, “like you have any problem spilling people's secrets”.

“That was to stop you from a suicide mission. Telling you his stuff won’t save his life”.

Fine. She’ll give him that one. That thing genuinely could have killed her. And Danny, this was bad but it wasn’t going to die here and now bad. If he was left alone then yes, he would... probably bleed out. And the only reason she was here was her scanner picking up on Phantom. Swallowing a little, “whatever. I would have been fine. But this whatever got him hurt. Even I know the G.I.W. don’t mess around and are extremists-”.

Phantom cuts her off, “coming from you that says a lot”. She pauses to glare at him very quickly before finishing up the stitching, “so we both know they absolutely would kill someone”. He doesn’t say anything as they move to sit Danny up, though his face ‘appears’ to be one of concerned concentration. Not that the ghost actually felt concern, it was just part of his stupid act. “Hold him”, he just nods as she moves to start wrapping Danny up. She’ll get the boy more genuine bandaging from her room, but he needs to be at least somewhat bandaged to get him there without risk. And as much as she’d like to get him the Hell away from the ghost, she’s not going to rush and risk his health just to do that.

Phantom sighs slightly after a while, “you do have a point”. Valerie huffs, at least he was willing to admit that. Snipping the bandaging and grabbing him under the armpits to move him onto her board after summoning it out.

Her actively scowling as Phantom floats up with her, even following after. Her snapping after a bit, “you’re like a damn shadow. I can’t shake you. Go away, ghost”.

Phantom giving a weirdly firm, “no”, immediately; which she glances at him for. The Zone was Phantom’s problem? Even with him insisting on his stupid false persona, he didn’t actively go out of his way to make sure people were fine outside of taking them to a hospital. She was perfectly capable of looking after Danny herself. Hell, she probably had better experience with anything ecto-related than the hospital did. “I don’t need your damn help, Phantom. And neither does he”.

Phantom scowls and rolls his eyes a little, “I know you won’t make him worse. You get along and won’t try sticking him in some anti-ecto bath or purifier dream catcher contraption like Jack and Maddie would”. Valerie has to blink those images out of her head, that was messed up and definitely something the  Fenton’s would do but she’s not about to let the Spook distract her, “then get lost. The only reason I’m not shooting you now is to avoid jostling him. That’s it. So go away, or else”.

Groaning over the stupid stubborn ghosts, “no”, as she flys through her bedroom window. Quickly moving to lay him out on her bed and immediately summoning out a small pistol, pointing it at the ghost, “give me one damn reason I shouldn’t pump you full of holes. I told you to get lost. I’ll be nice and let you leave, if you leave right now, for helping but seriously. Get”.  

Phantom stares at her for a bit, blinking once, “I... can’t”. Which fine, is enough to get her to pause.

Squinting at him, at him glancing from her to Danny and back. “And why the Hell not”. No point framing that accusation as a question.

The Spook squints at her right back, ghostly tail swishing in the air, “hinting at that answer is what the G.I.W. shot him over”. Now that’s enough to make her lower her weapon slightly. Only a little though.

Blinking and glaring at him, “so you really think I’d shoot him”. She almost feels insulted by that implication. Not to mention him still playing the stupid hero thing. ‘Protecting’ Danny.

He glances from her to Danny and back again for the second time, “that depends”.

Okay now she definitely is offended. Scowling meanly, “on?”. Did he have to be so stupidly elusive about everything and how dare he even claim she’d hurt Danny of all people.

“On how badly you want to ‘obliterate me out of existence’ versus ‘not get Danny hurt as collateral of your hunting’”, shrugging with obviously fake looseness, “or more specifically as collateral for your weirdly obsessive hatred for me”.

Her snapping, “it’s not obsessive when you destroyed my life, the town, and play this stupid hero crap to screw with the town and amass all your stupid ‘fans’”.

“That honestly sounds more like Ember than me”.

“Phantom”. Her pointing the pistol at him more genuinely again gets him to put up his hands in a surrendering motion, “hey hey now”.

“Well then start talking you damn ghost”, scowling a little at the raised eyebrow, “of course I care more about Danny than seeing you wiped off the face of this earth. Fucking duh, Phantom. Now explain”.

He stares like he’s judging her worth or some crap, like he’s anyone to judge that. “Have you ever compared us?”, adding when she just squints at him, “me and Danny, that is”.

She rolls her eyes though not taking her eyes off him, “why the Zone would I. And no, you having the same first name isn’t a reason to”.

Phantom scowls, “it was to them”.

She growls at him because this is getting annoying and she has a human Danny to look after, “stop beating around the damn bush and just spit it out already”. Him snapping right back at her, “because you won’t believe me”.

“Then why the fuck would the G.I.W. believe whatever!”.

“Because they don’t give a shit about him. Ancients, they tried to off a kid for having the same hair colour as me. Our similarities are way more suspicious!”.

Valerie smirks a little to herself at him looking like he hadn’t mean to say all that and seeming sheepish. Then frowning, “I don’t see a single damn similarity”.

“Personal bias due to personal relation. You don’t want to see the ghost you hate in the human you like, or the other way around. So you don’t. Same with the rest of the town. The G.I.W. aren’t blinded by that kind of bias”, him shrugging, “that’s what Jazz says anyway”.

That’s yet another thing that makes her pause and lower her weapon slightly, “you're... friendly with her”. What the Hell was that girl thinking?!? Dash or Paulina or even Sam she’d understand, but Jazz was a Fenton and freakishly smart.

“She knows things, yes. Figured it out on her own”, he sighs rubbing his eyes in obvious annoyance, “your suit has something that can tell a persons body measurements, right? Just use that”.

Valerie scowls, “I don’t take orders from you”, but does pop out the scanner while the ghost's tail solidifies into legs again and he plants himself on her floor dutifully. She scowls at him more for that. The nerve and ego, just entering a hunters home like that. At least this might make aiming at him easier, and locking onto him.

Turning the scanner on Danny though never taking her eyes off Phantom. Well until she pulls the scanner back over and glances at it. The thing read as reading the same body/person, the Hell? Scanning again, because was this thing malfunctioning. Audibly growling when the ghost chuckles at her. Stupid ghost found this funny. The results are the exact same. They had the exact same body shape, even hair shape. What the fuck. “Your bodies are the same”, he nods but frowns when she starts scowling at him, “what? Did you mould yourself after him or-”, scowl feeling and becoming genuinely angry, taking a step towards him, “are you Obsessed with him”, he immediately floats up waving his hands back and forth as she locks her pistol in on him, “that would explain why you constantly are ‘doing the job of a hunter’ and like puns so damn much! You just want to be near your fucking Obsession!”. Him successfully phasing through her floor to avoid the shot she fired off.

Him sticking his head over the window, at least the bastard was outside again, “what! No! That’s not it!”.

“Fucking bullshit!”, she immediately shoots at him again, “I’ve got no reason to believe a goddamn ghost!”.

“This is exactly what I was talking about!”, him phasing through the wall looking genuinely ticked off, “it doesn’t matter what I say or proof I give! You’re not going to believe me!”, and takes out her pistol with a small rock.

Her throwing the small crappy desk at him, all her furniture got an anti-ecto coating nowadays, “you’re a ghost!”.

He smashes the desk apart, “and you’re impossible!”.

Both of them jerking to a stop at a groan from the bed, snapping their heads over and both sighing when he doesn’t actually wake up. But it does knock a little sense into both of them. Valerie pinching the bridge of her nose and breathing. Looking back to Phantom, “get out. I don’t care what weird freaky ghost thing you’ve got for him. Leave. You don’t need to ‘protect’ him or whatever bullshit because I sure as shit ain’t harming him and I even more sure as shit ain’t going to let those G.I.W. asses anywhere near him. So get gone. Seriously. Fuck off”.

“Once again, I can’t”.

“Oh for fucks sake”. Scowling because she so doesn’t have time for this fucking bullshit, at least not until Danny is properly patched up. Moving as fast as she can and actually managing to catch the Spook by surprise with a hooked rope-like energy blast, pinning him to the wall and blocking out his powers. “Then just stay the fuck there and shut up. I don’t want to hear your crap”. Phantom rolls his eyes but thankfully doesn’t say shit, looks incredibly annoyed though; but what does she care. Instead focusing on getting the good bandaging and getting to work.

What does get her caught off guard again was that Danny’s wound didn’t look even slightly healed. Not a scab or nothing. She frowns, “why the Hell isn't he healing”, when she doesn’t get a response she looks to Phantom and scowls, “for the love of everything you pain in my ass. You can speak. Fuck I hate you. Happy?”.

Phantom smirks for a second, “yes. Very”, before frowning, “he’s not going to. Not like this anyway”.

Valerie grimaces at that, what the Hell did those men do to him? “Why?”.

Phantom opens and closes his mouth a couple times before watching her a little, “have you ever noticed that he doesn’t really seem... to heal like a normal person”.

Valerie rolls her eyes, everyone knew about Danny’s contamination problem and all the weird stupid complications of it. Like the clumsiness and just knowing when a ghost was about to show up. Then frowning a little, “so this has to do with his contamination”, that... that might be a problem. Danny’s contamination was unique even in the opinions of his parents. She barely knew the first thing in how to deal with that. No one did. Well, except Danny... and apparently his fucking ghost stalker.

Phantom sighs and looks around a little before looking to her face again, “he’s not contaminated. The ‘contamination’ is weird because he’s not ‘contaminated’”.

Valerie can’t help snapping at that, “then what the Hell is it and why do you know about it?!?”. Which he scowls at her over, “fucking complicated that’s what”, then shaking his head and seemingly calm in himself. Not that he should even be able to actually experience anger. “Ancients, do you have to be so difficult?”, sighing and mumbling something she doesn’t catch seemingly to himself before talking to her again, “I’m the ‘it’”.

“The fuck does that mean. The Hell did you do to him”, if she didn’t have him pinned she absolutely would be pulling another gun on him, she was tempted to as it was.

Phantom leans his head back, banging it on the wall, “ugh! Would you stop blaming me for everything?”.

Her snarking, “then stop being at fault”. He does chuckle a little at that but gives a weirdly hallow, “I hardly ever am”, and rights his head before she can comment on that, “okay look. Obviously not all us ghosties are the same, work the same-”.

She cuts him off, “a ghost’s still a ghost. Get to the point”.

He snaps at her a bit, “I’m bloody well tryin’, Ancients”. She waves for him to go on, effectively saying she maybe might not interrupt him. So long as he doesn’t say anything stupid. Which he will. He rolls his yes at her, “so as I was saying, we don’t all work the same. Surprise surprise, I’m a rare one”. Valerie muttering mostly to herself, “no fucking shit”, which he hears and chuckles at. Though she feels slightly more interested in this because no one had a damn clue why Phantom was fucking weird and this kinda sounded like she was about to find out. Though... apparently Danny was involved somehow. Which, she decidedly does not have a good feeling about.

“I’m what’s known as a Shadow, also called a half shade though. Only three of us exist”. Valerie actually whistles at that because damn. “Shade’s are what happen when the ghost's body was cremated or otherwise destroyed before they formed. Shade’s are... impressions rather than a whole”.

Okay that she has to butt in on, “but all ghosts are just ecto-impressions”.

Phantom looks at her like she’s stupid, “I thought you of all people wouldn’t believe that horse crap. If that were true born ghosts would be impossible, for one. For two, how the fuck would you get an emotional ectoplasmic impression of every fucking plant in the universe into one being? Or the time stream?”.

“There’s a time stream ghost”.

He rolls his eyes, “yes, but irrelevant. Basically none of Amity’s ghosts are Shade’s aka impressions. They are souls. Someone’s spirit. You know, that used to be in their body? Cremation and shit kinda wrecks the soul so you get an impression instead. Anyway-”. Valerie’s pretty sure he doesn’t realise how crazy and horrifying that is if it’s actually true. And sure there were plenty of people around Amity who tried to pitch the ‘ghosts are souls’ thing but literally every actual professional agreed that wasn’t the case. They were impressions not people. The ‘born a ghost’ and ‘timestream ghost’, if those were true at all, raised some questions though she guesses. Not pleasant ones, considering her job. But ghosts hurt people and were evil, not matter how the things were made. “-half Shade equals half impression. Duh”.

Valerie blinks at him, “so you’re half a typical ghost, that tells me nothing about Danny’s issue, Phantom. Though fine, nice to know why the heck things don’t damage you as much as they’re supposed to”, that was something that pissed her off to no end.

“I don’t have a corpse-”.

“Yeah no shit, you literally just said that ‘impressions’ don’t have those. Cremated or whatever. Still not the point”.

Phantom glares at her, “and you wonder why no one likes explaining crap to you”. She scowls at him for that while he continues, “as I was saying, I don’t have a corpse because I never had one. My bodies still walking around. Living. Breathing. Beating heart. You know, the works”. Valerie just stares at him because what the fuck was he trying to say here. That he was a dead of someone still alive? That makes zero fucking sense. “That makes no sense, idiot”.

Phantom actually snorts at that, “unnatural things don’t usually make sense. Hot tip, don’t stand inside a forming ghost portal. Electrocution’s also a pretty shit way to go. Well, half go”.

Valerie will admit to cringing at that, how ghosts died wasn’t really something she cared to think about or know. Especially since she’s sure most went in pretty nasty ways. “Congrats, that sounds.. awful”, tilting her head, “wait”, while Phantom mutters, “oh it was. Don’t recommend”.

Valerie squints at him, “Danny got electrocuted bad. His...”, frowning, “his parents said that gave him the... contamination”.

Phantom nods slowly, almost softly, “yeah”. While Valerie’s having just a slight freak out here. “Me forming was strange for everyone involved. But we hit it off immediately, got along. Makes sense being one and the same. Part of each other”, he does the closest to a shrug he can and she really doesn’t like where this is going, “it was ultimately him who chose my name you know. Danny Phantom for me, because it sounds like his. That, and it’s a pun”, chuckling and not even looking at her, like he was talking to himself at this point, “my suit, chosen by him. My symbol, designed by another human friendly. I am his pride and joy, I exist because of him. I’m his shadow”, looking to her, “Danny Fenton’s Shadow”.

Valerie just stares at him for a bit, “bullshit. You- no you are not part of him. No- what the fuck”, and scowls at him. The stupid thing is, it explained being identical. Stupid stupid stupid. She wanted nothing to do with it and didn’t want it to be happening. Holy fuck.

Phantom sighs and gives her a look that’s close to pitying, which she is absolutely having none of and promptly slaps him lightly; though he moves his head with it likely out of shock more than anything else. “Oooookaaaaay. I go baring my metaphorical soul to you and tell you my freaking death and you slap me? fucking seriously Val?”.

Valerie smacks him again but gentler, “don’t call me that!”.

“That an order to both me’s or just the dead one”. The bitter slightly snarky comment is more than enough to get Valerie’s mind back on track and force her to force herself to calm down. Valerie moving to sit against the bed leg and run a hand through her hair, sighing loudly. “Danny, living Danny, can call me whatever the Hell he wants. You call me Red, Phantom”, leaning her head back and sighing again, “this is really messed up”, sighing for the third time, “are you... are you seriously saying that you are part of Danny?”.

Phantom leans his head back, “intrinsically. Symbiotically eve-”. Valerie cutting him off with a snap, “explain”. That seems to get him upset again, him jerking his head up and eyes flaring green, “explain what!?! I already told you how this crap happened to us!”.

“That’s not what-”.

“Ancients fuck why did I think this was a good idea?!?!”.

“Phantom shut up”.

“No! Fuck you at this point! Ancients fuck!”.

Valerie blinks at him as he just bangs his head into the wall angrily. This didn’t seem faked. It really really didn’t. Maybe being half whatever changed things. Oh goddamnit. Her whispering, “you really actually do have emotions, don’t you”.

“Surprise surprise! All of us fucking do! It ain’t shit unique to me! Hunters are just a bunch of fucking bigots!”.

Valerie cringes at that. Curling up and tucking her knees under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. “I fucked up”

“Oh you don’t say miss decides to hunt, maim and destroy an entire species because of a fucking dog wrecking some shit and labelling them all less than human things that deserve to be conquered into oblivion like some crappy ass Christopher Columbus”

“Okay that was just mean”.

“Fuck off. I think I’ve fucking earned being mean to you”.

Valerie blinks at him, she had never seen Phantom behave like this. Sure he got ‘mad’ sometimes but what the Hell. Was it because of her less than stellar reaction to him ‘baring his soul’? But how could the bastard blame her? He was telling her that he was an impression of one of her only friends! Someone she had -and still has if she’s honest with herself- a crush on! How the fuck was she supposed to react to that bullshit. Hell! She wouldn’t even consider it if it wasn’t for the identical crap and Danny not healing... Shaking her head, she shouldn’t be focused on some ghost when Danny needed help. Sighing, “ignoring everything. How the Hell do I or we or whatever, get him to heal”.

Phantom scowls audibly and loudly at the ceiling before huffing and looking down at her, “humph. Well I guess that’s one fucking way to make what you care about more obvious”, and huffs again, “well for bloody well starters you'd have to let me off this fucking wall”. Valerie glares at him because Hell no, she wasn’t freeing him so he can just run off or do who knows what. He scowls at her, “for once in your life could you maybe, maybe, believe I don’t have some stupid ulterior motives for crap?! And besides! If I was bloody well strong enough to do shit right now I wouldn’t even be stuck at all! Heck! You wouldn’t even be helping at all”.

Now that catches her off guard, “so they messed you up too”. So Phantom was ‘too weak’ to fix Danny himself, meaning the ghost actually intentionally lured her to them... and she can’t even be mad at that.

He scowls at her some more, before grumbling, “can’t genuinely harm one without the other”. Which makes her pale a little. That was why Phantom had been defensive and asked what she cared about more. To destroy him... she’d have to hurt Danny. Maybe even kill him. Swallowing thickly, “oh”. Phantom gives back the most sarcastic, “yeah”, she’s ever heard.

She shifts a bit uncomfortably, “so... what’s wrong with you? Will ‘fixing’ you ‘fix’ him?”, she can hardly believe she’s asking after a freaking ghosts well being. She absolutely doesn’t blame him for squinting mistrustfully and disbelievingly at her. Him leaning his head back and speaking after apparently deciding she was ‘being genuine’; whatever that meant to a ghost... or part ghost whatever. “Okay it’s easier to just fucking explain what they shot us with”.

“So they shot both of you with whatever”.

Phantom sighs, “they only shoot once. One bullet”. Which makes zero sense, “what? Did they just hit both of you at once? That’s stupid terrible luck even by Danny’s standards”, Danny did have truly awful luck; this ‘Shadow’ thing felt like proof of that.

Phantom shifts a little, “kinda”, moving his hands around as much as his bindings will allow as he explains, “the thing basically caused some heart/core attack bullshit, which made us fall out of sync and kicked me out. Gave me the boot very painfully might I add-”, glares at her, “-for both of us. Also effectively paralysed my Core, hence being stupid weak and not being able to replenish any ecto I spend. Can’t recover for shit”.

Valerie hums a little to herself, “so you can’t heal either”, which would make it brutally easy to destroy the ghost. No wonder the G.I.W. wanted to do this... but with Danny involved no way can she even consider that. Then squinting as that nagging ominous feeling returns, “what do you mean ‘kicked you out’”.

Phantom sighs and looks around awkwardly, “I told you. Symbiotic. Codependent. Coexisting. Cohabitating. Yada yada. Etcetera etcetera”, nodding his head in Danny’s direction, “I know you and everyone else wonder where the heck I constantly fuck off to all the time. When I’m not out showing some ghost what’s what, I pretty much stay asleep in Danny’s body”.

Valerie blinks and gapes at him, “so a weird fucked up overshadowing”. She’s trying not to be ticked off. She really is.

“What? No. There’s no ‘someone taking control over someone else’ going on and you sure as shit don’t share organs with any ghost overshadowing you”. That thought makes Valerie mentally shudder, the idea of a ghost invading her body was bad enough but also mixing in Its organs; Hell no. Her blinking a little though, “you... share organs? Like, the Core? And your ectoplasm which I guess is why everyone thinks he’s ecto-contaminated but it’s really just you being there?”, squinting at the air, “does he need your Core to heal or something”. That would be exactly Danny’s luck; and hers too honestly. Zone damn this stupid ghosts Core having a ‘helpful’ hero complex.

Phantom shrugs and looks around, apparently calmed down fast enough to nearly give her whiplash, “ectoplasm does the healing actually. So the paralysed Core thing doesn’t really matter there”, grumbling a little, “still a fucking pain in the ass, or Core, though”, sighing and nodding his head at Danny again, “but yeah, our Core and heart are basically intertwined”, scowling, “and I’ve never been awake and up and about this long before. Which apparently makes me cranky and emotional”, actually growling a little which pretty well confirmed him being moody, “which is making me deplete my energy even more. Which is annoying and making me more pissy”, grumbling at the floor, “fucking bullshit cycle of bullshit making a giant mound of awful smelly dragon shit and maybe someone threw in some diarrhea to really drive me up the walls in some desperate attempt to escape the literal sea of bullshit”.

Valerie blinks and snorts a little, “oh stop whining you ecto-baby”, then grimacing, “also, that’s seriously disgusting”. He scowls at her but chuckles a little. Her shuffling and standing up, being more serious, “if this keeps up with you, you’ll run yourself dry, right? Probably destroy yourself”, continuing at his annoyed nod, “and what? Will Danny just not heal then?”. That would be bad but if it wasn’t for the fact that he wasn’t waking up then he could arguably live fine. He’d just have to stay on top of the perpetually open wound and be more careful to avoid injuries. But... him healing would be better. Stupid Phantom having to be inside his freaking body or not.

Phantom rolls his eyes, “worse than ‘not heal’. I ‘die’, he dies. A person doesn’t get to exist as half a soul. Our odd crap pushes the boundaries of nature already as it is. Death and life has already had it up to here with us”, huffing, “and he’s not waking up because he’s effectively feeding me emotional energy through the air in an attempt to make up for my stupid lack of ecto-energy. Just the same I’m feeding him shedded ectoplasm to try to encourage healing. It’s enough to stop the bleeding but that’s it. Hence why I can’t leave. Both of us will fall apart. Well okay, he’d hemorrhage blood like a fountain, I’d dissolve into a puddle of ectoplasmic goop. Which would make your floor a very not pretty painting”.

Valerie looks down at him then to Danny, roughing her hair up which she absolutely catches Phantom mutter, “damnit, that’s hot”. Making her snap her head to him and screw her face up, “what???”, his cheeks are practically glowing green so he probably hadn’t meant to say that. But also, who the heck goes from graphic descriptions of death to ‘oh by the way you’re hot’.

He immediately gets all defensive, “we share everything! all right! Memories. Thoughts. Emotions. Feelings. Everything”. That just makes her screw up her face more, “so I basically dated you too. And wait a fucking second-”, going wide-eyed, “-does he know I’m Red then????”.

Phantom gives an impressively awkward, “I mean? Technically? Though yeah on the Red thing, fucking duh honestly”.

She’s not sure whether to be pissed, relieved, or scared. “I can’t fucking believe you... Believe you two”, scowling, “I would hit him if he wasn’t passed out”.

Phantom shrugs, “eh hitting me would achieve the same thing, but I’d rather you not. We’re getting kinda off track here and I’d really like to be home and he’d really like to not have a big hole in his chest”. Valerie scowls but glances at Danny, messing with her hair again though giving Phantom a weird look right after and pointedly stopping. “So is he... going to remember all this? See your memories?”.

“My memories are his memories”.

She absolutely groans over that, tilting her head back and glaring at the ceiling. He probably remembered her shooting at Phantom as if she were shooting at him, at the human Danny. Danny was even more reckless and stupid than she thought but... it made her feel kind of happy and warm.

“You’re blushing”.

She shakes her head and scowls at the stupid smirk on Phantom’s face, “shut up. He’s just stupid selfless that’s all”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, “I’m no different, you just don’t want to acknowledge that. Like I said”, then speaking in a singsong voice, “hunter bias and bigotry”. She hates that he has a point. She really really does. Stupid ghost. Stupid teenage boy.

She shakes her head, this is stupid, “I’ll freak out about that some other time. How do we fix this? Since I’m guessing you can’t”.

Phantom again gives her a look that clearly questions her intellect, “step one, release me”. She groans and glares at him but relinquishes and deactivates the device. Phantom standing up and brushing off his legs like they got dirty somehow, “fucking finally. Ancients you are difficult”.

“Apparently you’ve known that for a while and explicitly”.

“Shut up, I’m bitchy and moody”, him walking over to Danny, putting a hand on his forehead and frowning, “he’s starting to get a fever”.

Valerie groans, seriously? For fucks sake. “You've got to be kidding me. On top of everything else?”, glaring at the unconscious Danny a little, “you have the worst luck”.

“He can’t hear y-”.

“Shut up”.

Phantom chuckles before frowning again, “it’s because my Core’s ice. His body basically uses my Core to keep cool, regulate body temp. Core’s his own personal little ice pack and ac system. He can’t cool down without it”, grumbling, “not that I can cool him with a paralysed Core”. Valerie sighs, “we’ll deal with that later then. I don’t know how to un-paralyse a Core. How do we get you back in there to heal him with your ecto whatever”. She seriously can not believe she is trying to get a ghost inside someone. Even if that someone was apparently themselves or whatever the fuck. Half themselves? Ugh, this is ridiculous.

Phantom fidgets a bit, which fuck is ominous. “Okay step two, I need that pacifying basifier thingy of yours”.

Valerie quirks an eyebrow but hands it to him. Because at this point why the heck not give dangerous weapons to reckless dead guys that already use their fists like weapons of mass destruction. Fuck her life. “And if I wasn’t going to just give you my stuff?”.

Phantom smirks a bit as he sits down to tinker, “I’m not above mild petty theft”. She shoves his head for that one and grimaces over him ripping her gun apart and messing with stuff. While Phantom starts rambling, “I can’t merge with him all paralysed ‘cause my Core can’t connect and shit past all my ectoplasm. Hooray, a situation where my ecto is a real true pain in the ass, and I’ve been so good to it. That’s a lie, I’ve abused the shit out of it”, waving a hand around, “so need to be just my Core, not that I’ll be able to move like that. See I was just gonna knock you out or something. Sit on his chest, use this modified thingy, letting Core me just sorta fall on his chest and sink in”, doing small jazz hands, “tada”.

Valerie scowls, “fuck you too then”, though she does understand a little. And at least he had a plan.

“Desperate times, desperate measures”, tilting his head and chuckling a little, “in desperate times, desperate measures will be my pleasures”.

Valerie gives a very deadpan, “I hate you”, then sighs and crosses her arms, looking down at him, “well sitting on him probably won’t help his condition”.

Getting a cheery, “nope”, in response.

Valerie sighs again, choosing to ignore him being an idiot, “so what are you doing that doesn’t involve making the sick injured human more sick and injured”.

Phantom looks up at her and squints, “you could... pick me up and put me in him yourself”. Valerie can practically physically feel the cautiousness in that statement. Her swallowing, “and that won’t hurt anyone? Him, me, or, I guess, you?”.

Phantom grumbles, “it won’t feel all that pleasant for me. Our Cores are kinda sacred and sensitive to touch, you know. But no, it ain’t gonna hurt nobody”.

Valerie screws up her face a little, “that’s not meaning ‘sensitive’ in the sexual way is it?”, she doesn’t even want to know why her brain went that route. She emphatically doesn't. Phantom blinks and wheezes, starting to laugh hard enough that he has to stop tinkering, “what?!?!? No! I mean it can be but not like this or like that! Oh my Ancients! I can’t believe you asked that!”, then laughing some more, “that might have made my day!”, shaking his head and smirking at her, which she scowls at him for while he speaks, “don’t worry Red, it’s nothing like that. Haha”.

She huffs and shoves his head, “shut up, asshole”. He just snickers more so she crosses her arms. She’d turn her back on him but he’s still a damn ghost, even if she was apparently around him all the fucking time. He was apparently ‘asleep’ or whatever though, remembering whatever or not. So it’s a little different and that’s what she’s sticking to. Huffing a little while the ghost shakes his head.

Phantom eventually makes a stupid silly little cheer sound, “ah! Alright yeah, this should work”. The two of them kinda staring at each other for a bit, she could practically read caution and worry in his green eyes. This ‘emotional’ ghost thing was weird. But she sighs, she needs to look after Danny and this crap was basically all she had for options. So she takes the initiative, “I’m not gonna hurt your Core or whatever”, at him still staring, “or experiment on it”, getting more staring, “and I’ll put it, you, whatever, right in Danny’s chest. Happy?”.

He watches her for a bit before nodding, though not exactly looking pleased, “alright. But I, and Danny, am holding you to that”. Valerie gulps and nods, watching him stick the now disk-shaped ‘gun’ over his chest and push it to make a little pulse thing. The light’s a little blinding but she hears the orb? hit the ground with some static sounds following.

Blinking down at the pale blue glowing ball. Alright, so this is a Core. Fuck this is weird. “Alright self, time to pick up a freaking ghost organ. Fuck this is so messed up”. It makes some kind of bubble noise. Her shaking her head, “can you hear me or something”, it makes a hum sound that time.

Fuck it. She bends down and picks it up gingerly, hurting this thing would at the very least slow how quickly Danny could heal. Or make the fever worse. “That’s weird. This is weird. Fuck this entire day and the G.I.W. too for good measure”. It makes more bubbles, which she decidedly ignores.

Hold the thing oddly just felt like holding a ball, which probably wasn’t normal especially considering the whole ‘paralysed’ thing. Shaking her head and staring down at Danny some before going for it and simply placing the ball over his chest, near where the fucking gunshot wound was, and staring down as it seeps down through flesh and bone like it’s melting into him. After a bit, she elects to slump down tiredly in her shitty brown chair and just watch him. She’ll check the wounds and apparent fever every so often but there’s not much else she can really do. And that pisses her off just a little bit.

-

Valerie immediately bolts up and too Danny’s side when he groans, turns his head, and screws his eyes shut even more. “Danny?”. He just groans at her but does open an eye a little bit, “ugh”.

She sighs, at least he was awake, “first, how are you feeling? Second, I am so pissed with you”, she makes sure to add a bit of humour to that last bit.

Danny closes his eye, squeezes them and then opens both of them, “Val?”. She nods, “yeah. I’m here. Do you need anything?”. He exhales a bit heavily, “uh. Cold drink would be nice”. Which she kind of expected and thus had some ice water on hand, immediately passing it over to him, “thanks. So uh, all that, huh?”.

Valerie scoffs, sitting down on the floor leaning against the bed, hearing him turn over onto his side as she speaks, “yeah. Fucking bullshit. You’re bullshit. Phantom’s bullshit”, pausing and fiddling with her hair some, “the stuff he said, Phantom, was all that true?”, huffing, “I guess with remembering it the answer’s kinda obvious”. And fuck her over that. Because damn did this complicate stuff and raise so many moral questions about what she does. Because hasn’t she been effectively trying to destroy her friend, or part of him anyway, for years.

Danny chuckles sounding kinda tired, “yeah. But could we seriously not argue anymore. I kinda threw all my emotional energy at Phantom. Tired now... and hot. Oh and my chest feels like shit”.

Valerie shakes her head, “never can shut you up. And I’m not about to argue with you, Danny”, pulling herself up to sit on the bed next to him, hugging her knees, “but just how you are you? Like, where does Danny start and Phantom end? Is he literally just knocked out right now?”.

Danny sighs, “it’s complicated. We’re just two parts of the same person so there really isn’t an end or beginning. Though Phantom’s sleeping yeah, more like being dormant though“, shifting and looking her in the eyes, “appreciate being gentle with my Core though”.

“It’s stupid weird to hear you say ‘my Core’ especially since you’re talking about Phantom’s Core. Which is technically your Core”, and grumbling into her knees a bit incoherently.

Danny nods, “everything about my life, half-life, is stupid weird. Welcome to it I guess. Can I ask what you got all blushy about? After Phantom commented very stupidly -fuck I can’t believe he said that- on your hair fiddling thing”.

Valerie immediately heats up a little again, because this time it’s Danny not Phantom and that matters. Even if they’re kinda apparently the freaking same. “I... well, I never really stopped liking you. I just thought I was protecting you. Which now feels supremely stupid”. She had been trying to protect him from his fucking Ghostly body roommate. Heck! Danny was effectively protecting him.

He huffs a chuckle, “because it was stupid”, sighing, “though I could have been honest with you, but in a way I was protecting you. So it’s not really all on you. Though more we were protecting you, though when either of us says ‘I’ we usually mean we; same person and all that”. Danny adjusts and shoves the blankets around, probably seeking out a slightly cooler spot.

Valerie hums, staring forward, “stick to singulars honestly. Especially if Phantom’s just... you but a ghost. You constantly pointing out there’s a freaking ghost taking a nap in you is gonna freak me out right now. I’d really rather just make sure you’re alright”.

Danny pats her foot and smiles a little, though she can tell he’s got a fever now. He just looked overheated. “Sam and Tuck find it weird too but they like weird shit”.

She snorts at that, “you don’t say”. Though she’s kinda glad they know about Danny, Phantom, and his/their crap.

Danny smirks in a very stupid Phantom way, “I dare say. But I'm as fine as I can be really. I’m hot, tired both physically and emotionally, and in pain. But I’ve been worse. And there’s not much you can really do for me. I just need to heal and wait out the paralytic... and Phantom needs sleep, that’s kinda obvious though”. She snorts at that, muttering, “he sure turned into an emotional baby for a bit there”.

“Heh heh. Don’t remind me. That was embarrassing. Least it was just you. Though... he had a point. About you. You can be frustrating”.

She huffs at that, “It’s called being a strong woman with a strong personality”. He hums a bit, closing his eyes, “oh that’s fine. I like that. It’s the blindly believing bigotry thing and the hardcore hatred boner”.

“You did not just call it that. I’d hit you but I don’t want to give you a concussion on top of everything”, sighing, “and Phantom... likes me too then. The sharing feelings thing”.

Danny shifts around some more, which honestly makes her want to scold him; he’s gonna rip his stitching. “I’m pretty sure I can’t get concussions. Phantom definitely can’t. And yeah, obviously Phantom does. The trying to murder him thing kinda kills it a little. Makes him a little put off”.

“And you’re not?”.

Danny sighs, “we can tell whose memories are whose, Val. Ghosts don’t see or feel the world the way humans do. You can look like a completely different person through Phantom’s eyes. All the anger that rolls off you and lashes at the air. The... loneliness too. He likes when you get protective though”, he blushes a little though it could just be the fever, “you feel nice when you’re like that”.

Valerie doesn’t know what to do with that information really; so she stuffs it in a neat little box in her brain. Maybe that’ll encourage the Box Ghost to come running and give her something to shit-kick. Instead she just asks, “he can see emotions? That’s got to be a mind trip”, yawning a little and deciding to get up before she falls asleep or something. “It fine if I check that wound of yours? Before I pass the Hell out”. He chuckles and nods though doesn’t really seem to care, “yeah. I’m used to it. Go ahead, might look kinda green though”. Valerie only sighs as she gets to work unwrapping him carefully, and tries not to be totally weirded out by the pale green crusting and the fact that she can literally see ectoplasm bubbling, or something, around the stitching. Pointing as non-judging as possible, “is this normal?”. This was literally Phantom’s ectoplasm sloshing around Danny’s wound.

He hums, pokes at his chest, and nods. Sounding way to apathetic, “yeah pretty much. Dissolving the stitching a little. I have special stitches that don’t cause that”. All she has to do is frown for him to continue, “not a problem though. You can wrap me back up and let me nap now”. She chuckles a little but does as she’s asked, “I could use some sleep too”.

After finishing up she watches Danny a little as he gets comfortable in her bed, this was weird and a bit surreal. Turning to eye her chair, that would seriously not be comfortable. But sharing a bed was a bit much and Danny was injured. And the Phantom thing felt like a weird elephant in the room at the moment to her. Apparently, Danny can read minds now though, and starts scolding her, “no. Bad hunter. No sleeping in that ratty-ass chair. I can share”, tilting his head, “huh. That rhymed”. Valerie glares at the ceiling in fake exasperation though trying not to be weird about him just calling her a hunter, while Danny keeps going, “so long as you don’t mind the bed getting nippy or that Phantom might hop out for a bit to escape the heat”.

Valerie turns and blinks at him, “that fucker better not try shit then”. Fuck it though, that stupid chair will give her a serious kink in the neck. So she crawls into bed, though keeping a blanket between them, “and you keep your hands to yourself and mind your wounds”.

Danny chuckles and clearly goes out of his way to hug her some, “who do you take me for? Tuck?”, him chuckling almost awkwardly but it was more like he knew he should feel awkward but didn’t quite feel it; she’s blaming that on being emotionally drained. “Though I am a bit of a sleep cuddler. Sam’s gotten a lot of blackmail photos out of that”. Valerie absolutely snorts a laugh over that. Though that sounds like he absolutely sleeps cuddled with Tucker mostly. Which was kind of funny.

-

Danny speaks up again after a bit, with her being nearly asleep, “hey Val?”.

“Hmm?”.

“Where does this leave us?”.

Valerie shifts a bit, eyeing and playing with bits of her hair. She honestly didn’t know herself. Obvious she wasn’t going to off Phantom’s ectoplasmic ass, she is so not going to kill Danny. But friends with Phantom? Maybe. She still hates his damn guts and all the crap he pulls. But that barely aligns with her view of Danny, kind sweet funny Danny. And he was still cute. It was really fucking strange seeing him in Phantom and Phantom in him now. “We’ll see I think. I’m still gonna best Phantom’s stupid butt but I don’t want his ectoplasmic hide anymore. And you’re my friend still. More than that?... I don’t know”, yawning, “but I sure as shit ain’t dating Phantom”.

Danny snorts quietly, “Val. If you did, I think I’d have a heart attack. Ancients, the town would have a heart attack. But yeah, I could do without the second-hand murder attempts. Phantom would be bummed if you stopped picking fights with him entirely though”, chuckling, “he likes fighting and seeing you improve. But if we want to try things again, between us, then you guys need to at least be friends. Dating while you were fighting him all aggression and venom, was difficult”.

Valerie doesn’t have to question that one bit, “yeah”.

“Yeah”.

Valerie rolls her eyes and tries to snuggle into the blankets a bit more, “go to sleep Danny”. He just chuckles.

-

Valerie absolutely does wake up at one point during the night with Danny’s face smushed into her back and arms around her waist. But she had muttered a quiet, “seriously?”, over noticing Phantom sprawled out over top of everyone. At least there were blankets between all of them.

End.

[nev3rfound]

lost love : b.b

brief summary: bucky reminisces on his days with you, the love of his life he lost

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, this is inspired by the bathroom scene between steve and robin in stranger things s3  warnings: kinda angsty, bit sad

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions

Sam laughed lightly as he held his drink up toward Bucky. “Come on, Buck.” He encourages as Bucky shuffles forward in his seat, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he sips his drink.

“Alright, truth,” Bucky answers, watching as Sam relaxes back into the sofa. He glances over to Natasha and Steve, who raise eyebrows as Sam grins momentarily before facing Bucky.

“Have you ever been in love, Barnes?” Sam finally asks, his question forms slowly, but it hits Bucky too quickly.

Steve watches closely, seeing Bucky sink down in the armchair, his grip on the beer in his hand loosening and his brows furrow together. 

Remaining quiet, Bucky knows his answer. He knew from the moment he first met you that it was going to be the case, but if he spoke too soon could it ruin it. “Yeah, I have.” Bucky answers softly. “It was the kind of love you don’t read about in books or be displayed in museums or anything.” 

Lifting his head up, Bucky meets Sams wide eyes. “Seriously? Someone fell for your cold ass heart?” Sam jokes and Bucky laughs under his breath, nodding. “Come on, Barnes. Who was the special lady?” 

“Her name was Y/n, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.” Bucky recites your name with such sweetness it’s tooth aching. Steve smiles to himself, letting out a soft sigh.

“Oh, Y/n.” Steve comments, Natasha glancing up to see Steve’s eyes glazed over, his mind back in another time. “She was something else.” 

Bucky lowers his head, feeling his hair fall into his eyes. “Yeah, she, she was unlike anyone I ever met.” He brushes the hair out of his face, something you always did in the early hours of the morning as he held you close to his chest. 

“Who was she?” Natasha speaks up, curiosity overtaking her stoic expression. 

“She wasn’t like the other girls we knew in Brooklyn.” Bucky starts, his mind wandering back to the day he first met you. “She wasn’t falling at my feet for a start.” 

Sam scoffs lightly. “And you picked her?” 

Shaking his head, Bucky clears his throat. “I didn’t pick her, she picked me.” Bucky explains. “I was smitten by her bluntness, her downright honesty with me. She didn’t care for my charms, the attempt at swooning her for a dance. She saw the marks from another woman on my neck, Steve hanging by and eyes following her every step from across the street.” 

Steve can remember it clearly too. You were his neighbour, a training nurse who had no time for bullshit. You wanted to make a difference in the world, or at least to those in it. Bucky was always around, and when he saw you for the first time he whistled to you. Unlike the other girls he met, you turned around and swore at him rather than found it complimenting. 

“She didn’t have time for you, Buck.” Steve admits, and Bucky agrees with his friend, knowing it was true. “But that clearly didn’t stop you.” Steve sips his drink, seeing Bucky lean back in the sofa. 

“How’d she end up with you then?” Tony walks in, leaning against the sofa Sam and Clint are on. 

“Mixture of perseverance, a lot of flowers and her forcing me to be who I am, not who I try to be.” Bucky tells everyone, and Natasha can see Bucky softening. His hard exterior melting under the mention of his past with you by his side. “She helped me become the version of myself I should always be, and that I shouldn’t have to hide behind a bad boy persona.” 

The room falls silent as Bucky’s sentence hangs in the air. Clint leans forward, exhaling heavily. “Well, on that note, who’s next?” He asks and the game continues, but Steve can see Bucky isn’t really with them, he’s still back in Brooklyn with you by his side.

*

Sitting on the balcony, Bucky quietly reads his book as Steve walks out. Bucky knows it’s Steve based on the heavy energy that he shuts inside, leaving him to talk freely with his friend without fear of being heard. “Everything alright, Steve?” Bucky turns his head, seeing Steve carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“How come you don’t talk about her?” Steve asks quietly, knowing he doesn’t have to specify who. 

Bucky tabs the corner of his book before closing it, placing it by his side as he rises from the single chair that lines the wall of the balcony. “She was part of my past, Steve.” 

“But what if she’s still out there?” Steve steps forward, moving closer to be alongside his friend. “I found Peggy, what if you can find Y/n?” 

Steve watches as Buckys gaze becomes cold as he stares at him. “And what Steve? What am I supposed to do?” Bucky retorts. “Y/n fell for the man I was, I, I don’t want her knowing who I have become.” 

The words hover in the atmosphere, refusing to budge as Steve takes them in, one by one. It burns his lungs, the pain that stabs at them from Bucky’s tone. He’s defeated, completely lost with himself. 

“You’re a great man, Buck.” Steve places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, flashing a reassuring smile. “And from what I remember of Y/n, she wasn’t one to shy away from anything.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “she never gave up easy.” 

*

Walking down the street, Bucky followed the route he memorised from his first visit. From the moment he had access to the modern world when he was free from HYDRA he refused to waste another minute of his time. He was determined to find you, find out what happened to you after he fell from the train. 

Bucky had promised you he’d come home, that you would start the family together you always envisioned. You were in the war too, a nurse for the soldiers at the camps. When he fell, all he could think of is you and what would happen if you never found out. 

He spent hours reading about you, the woman you became after the war. You remained in Brooklyn, you helped rebuild the city and worked closely with the community. You did what you always wanted to do, you helped the people first and foremost. 

Yet, everything Bucky read wrote about you in the past tense. At first, it didn’t really register what that meant until he stumbled onto one article. The last article that you were ever featured in. 

As his eyes scanned the words, his heart fell into his stomach. The last few strands holding it together, after decades of abuse, cold blood on his hands and pain of losing himself all he had was you. But you’re gone, you’re lost.

It hurt. It hurt like nothing Bucky had endured in all of his life. When he fell from the train, the pain was physical to the surface. Everything he went through in HYDRA was numbing, he wasn’t made to feel anything in there. But this, seeing a photograph of you as an older woman with the same bright smile he adored broke him. 

Within days he found out where you were buried. He visited you weekly without anyone knowing. In his mind, if no one knew he could keep up the facade that somewhere out there, you’re still alive. How to Steve, you are still Bucky’s love, even if you’re much older and have lived a long life, you’ll forever be the woman Bucky Barnes fell for. 

Walking into the plot of land, Bucky passes through various trees to find yours. When he first came to visit, he felt overwhelmed by the trinkets hung on the thin branches from families of those lost. Some placed jewellery, drawings, notes and photographs. He saw plaques of names unknown to him, but then he found yours. 

“Hey, doll.” He speaks up as he places his hands in his pockets, standing in front of your oak tree. “Getting tall I see, you should see the size of Steve now.” He jokes lightly. “I swear he is still gettin’ bigger, that or I’m officially shrinkin’.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bucky looks down at your small plaque. The marble etched with your full name and a beautiful photograph of you. He smiles at the photo whenever he visits, thinking how you would’ve looked if he could’ve known you that long. 

“I came to check on you, as I always do. I just wanna know you’re okay. Not that you wouldn’t be, 'cause you’re a strong gal.” Bucky rambles before sighing loudly. “Guess I don’t have the right words every time.” He admits, picturing you crossing your arms before threatening to turn around and walk away. “I know I’m not who I was, but I know he’s still in me deep down.” 

To the side of Bucky, he can see a young man approaching him. He clenches his fists in his pockets, feeling the plates of his metal arm whir together. The man moves closer, his eyes focusing on Bucky. 

“Sorry, I just, you’re him, aren’t you?” The man questions, his eyes glistening in the sunlight like yours once did. 

Bucky remained perplexed and glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was around him to be mistaken by. The young man laughed lightly before stepping closer. 

“You’re Bucky, Bucky Barnes?” He asks gently, and Bucky slowly nods. 

“What’s it to you, kid?” He huffs, nerves beginning to eat at his stomach as the young man smiles brightly.

“You are just how she always described you.” He comments before looking down at your small photograph with a small smile. “She always told us stories of her friends when she was younger, and the lost soldier she loved.” 

Surprise lines Bucky’s expression as he opens his mouth. “Are you,” He starts, but his words falter.

The young man nods. “I’m her grandson, James.” He holds his hand out, and Bucky reaches forward and accepts it. 

He laughs lightly. “Was she happy?” Bucky asks quietly, something he couldn’t ever read about in articles or learn from photographs. He looked at James, watching as he nods in response.

“She lived a long and happy life, Bucky. Nana was a strong woman, a try fighter until the end.” James wipes his eyes as Bucky lowers his. “And she never forgot about you, she didn’t forget about anyone.” 

Bucky smiles to himself, feeling his heart being lifted back up just a smidge. “I never forgot about her either, James.” Bucky tells the young man, watching him carefully seeing the similarities of you in him. “You have her eyes, you know?” 

James looks up to Bucky. “I, I get that a lot. She helped me learn there are people in the world that need help, more than we do ourselves.” 

“Sounds about right.” Bucky comments, picturing you sat in his room rambling on about everyone you met on that day, the stories you heard and how many you wished to help. You had a heart of gold, one Bucky never felt he deserved to hold. “Thank you, James.” 

“Thank you, Bucky for making my Nana so happy.” James sniffs lightly, watching as Bucky walks off leaving James a moment to himself with his Grandmother. 

Bucky glances back to your tree as tears begin to fall down his face. You were happy, and that’s all that matters. 

[katedrakeohd]

Personal Shopper

A Choices : Save the Date Fanfiction

Pairing: MC Stella Jennings and Martin Mercado (Justin)

Rated: PG for language.

Word count: approx. 2800

Context: Martin calls Stella and asks for a favor.

Author's note: Stella's personal thoughts appear in italics

Tagging:

@dailydoseofchoices @sanvivrma @samihatuli @gardeningourmet @lovealexhunt @princess-geek @loveofafangirl @storyofmychoices @msjpuddleduck @perriewinklenerdie @thepotatobleh @shrinkthisviolet @griselda1121 @iamnotjesha @desiree-0816

*************

I'm standing in the bridal boutique with Lindsay finalizing our plans to attend the Wedding convention in Niagara Falls, when my phone starts ringing. Without looking at the caller ID I answer, “Hello, Jennings Wedding Planners. We make weddings spectacular, how may I help you?”

After the words leave my lips there's a pause, giving me just enough time to feel awkward about using the word ‘spectacular' .

“Stella, Hi. It's Martin.”

It's been a while since we've spoken, and I can't help but feel a tingle of excitement at hearing his voice. When I don't say anything he continues,

“Nora's wedding is coming up soon, and I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

Oh so now he needs me for something. Is this a test?

“What kind of favor?”, I ask.

“Well as wedding planner I value your opinion on what to wear, and as Best Man I need a tuxedo. Could you help me pick one out?”

Well I've already overseen the picking out of wedding dresses. And this would give me another chance to show Martin that I can be professional and take my job seriously. So why not?

“Ok Martin, are we picking something out of your closet or are we going shopping?”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers, “I want something fresh and new for Nora's wedding, so let's go shopping. Are you free this evening?”

When he's not mad at me for something his voice does carry a certain charm. I wish it didn't affect me so much.

“I'm free, where are we going?”

“I'll text you the address. Meet me there at 7?”

I can't help but smile, “It’s a date.”

I hear him laugh on the other end, “Don't be late.”

As I look out the window of my taxi I can't help but shake my head. Given that the address Martin gave me borders on the south end of Central Park, it couldn't have said more “fancy rich guy” if it tried. When the taxi stops outside of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, I see Martin standing talking to the doorman. When the doorman steps over to get my door, Martin waves him off and opens it for me.

“Wow, aren't we being a gentleman?” I tease as I climb out of the taxi.

“Well you're here to do me a favor, so it's only right.”

Martin knocks on the passenger window and the driver rolls it down to accept his credit card.

I stand on the sidewalk and wait. The Ritz-Carlton doorman tips his hat to me in greeting and I blush. As the taxi drives away Martin comes back over to me.

“So this is a hotel. I thought we were going shopping?” I ask, eyeing Martin warily.

Martin's usual stern facade shifts and he smiles, “Oh we are, the store isn't far from here. So I figured we could walk.”

I shrug, falling in step beside him as we join the flow of pedestrians. “Don't tell me you're taking me to shop on 5th Avenue.” I joke.

Martin glances at me all serious, “Well yes, I always shop on 5th Avenue.

Of course you do.

As we walk by the other hotels on the street the crowd on the sidewalk gets more dense, and it's tough not to bump into people. A group of people come at us from the other direction and I have to step closer to Martin to avoid being trampled. Without warning I feel him take my hand, he leans in close to whisper. “Don't worry, I've got you.”

I give his hand a grateful squeeze, “Thanks, remind me again why walking is better than taking a taxi?”

As he guides me around a woman pushing a stroller, he smiles. “I like walking with you Stella. Remember how I walked you home after Nora's bridal shower?”

“I remember wanting to learn more about the real Martin that hides behind the façade of CEO event planner guy.”

We navigate the maze of cross walks and find ourselves on 5th Avenue.

“Well consider this as an another insight into who I am. I love this city, I live this city. The excitement, the people, the living breathing organism that is the exchange of commerce and business. I feel so energized to be a part of it.”

As I look down at his expensive shoes and the designer clothes he's wearing it reminds me of the divide between our economic classes. We might live on the same island, but he's all high-rise Penthouse and I'm Hell's Kitchen. I don’t belong in his social scene at all, yet here I am planning his sister's wedding and holding his hand. It's terrifying and exciting at the same time, like I'm on a carousel ride and if I dare let go it will all disappear and be just a dream.

He holds the door open for me as we enter the men's wear store at Bergdorf Goodman and as we step inside he looks like he's right at home. I feel like an ugly duckling in my basic cotton dress and sandals. He leads the way to the escalator and we go up to the second floor formal wear department.

The mannequins are all sharply dressed in suits of various colors and designer brands. As the only feminine thing in the whole room it feels very intense, almost erotic to be surrounded by such powerful masculinity.

The way that Martin just casually walks by the expensive price tags on display is mindboggling. But then this is his world, and money is no object. As we approach the clerk behind the counter the man smiles at us and greets Martin like an old friend.

“Martin! Back so soon! And with a pretty girl on your arm. How can I help you two today?”

Martin smiles back, “Good evening, Eric. My sister's getting married next month and I need a tux.”

Eric eyes me appraisingly as if I'm Martin's date. He seems to approve, but I don't know for sure because he quickly averts his attention back to Martin.

“Nora, right? Well tell her congrats for me. So for this extra special occasion are we going for something equally as special? Perhaps a tail coat this time?”

Martin shrugs and then looks at me, “That's not quite what I had in mind as Best Man, but let's ask the wedding planner. What do you think Stella?”

I hold my hand up, needing to clarify something first, “Hang on, I'm still trying to get over the fact that the staff know you by name. Just how many suits have you bought here?”

Martin grins at Eric, “Well this will be the fifth. There was Prom, two award shows, and of course Sam and Ali's wedding. I like shopping here because they carry the styles and brands that I like. Plus they have my size and measurements on file which helps.”

Eric laughs and smacks Martin on the arm, “Besides Martin and I go way back because we used to work here together.”

“So you weren't always part of your Dad's event planning business?” I ask, trying to imagine Martin working behind the counter at a clothing store.

“I was in highschool and Eric was in college. We worked in the backroom more so than directly with customers. It was my first taste of the business world at the ground level.”

Eric smiles, “One of the best, most down-to-earth guys I’ve ever worked with.”

Wait, what? Bossy pants, rich guy Martin is actually a nice guy under all of that expensive cologne? I knew it.

“Stop it Eric, you’re going to ruin the hard ass millionaire persona I’ve been trying so hard to uphold,” Martin jokes.

The air between us gets a little more awkward as Martin looks at me and smiles. What game are you playing Mister? You like me, then hate me, then you look at me like that and my knees go weak. Stop teasing me.

Eric claps his hands to dispell the moment and bring me back to reality, “Ok then, enough reminiscing, let’s get you a tux.”

He leads us to the racks and starts pulling things. “Let’s try this, and…this, oh and this one.”

Eric’s confidence as he chooses designer looks just at a glance is so different to Lindsay’s timid nature at the bridal boutique. He knows his niche market so well and obviously excels at it. I wish I could get the two of them in the same room, and just maybe some of his confident optimism would rub off on her.

He hands Martin a bunch of hangers as he leads us to a changing room, “I’m sure you two will be just fine with these, I’ll check back on you later.”

I feel a sudden panic take over at the idea of being left alone with Martin in a changing room. “Wait, you’re not going to help advise him about fit and stuff like that?”

Eric smiles, “I think in this matter that Martin would value your opinion more than mine. I’ll give you some privacy.”

Did he just wink at Martin before he left?

I suddenly feel hot all over when Martin hands me the hangers and then starts to unbutton his shirt, This is so not in my job description. What is going on?

I feel myself blush and look away, “Um, Martin should I wait outside?”

As he unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeves he looks down briefly as he slips off his shoes. “Only if you really want to Stella, I’m not too shy to ask for your help if I need you.”

If he needs me? What if I want to help now?

My eyes are drawn to the open neck of his shirt and the little bit of chest he’s revealed. I hang up the suits I’m holding and step toward him. “Let me help you with that.”

Martin doesn’t argue as I gently lay my hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric under my palms and running my thumb up over the buttons. His hands hang at his sides as he watches mine work to undo the buttons. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and I boldly let my thumb graze against his skin as I reach the bottom button. Biting my lip I tug the shirt up out of his waistband. As I undo the last button I look up and meet the dark intensity of his eyes with my own. Our lips are only inches apart and I see him gasp as I run my hands up his bare chest and slide the shirt off of his shoulders and then it drops to the floor.

“Stella,” he whispers, catching my hands in his. “That's enough, thanks for the help.”

I step back and let my eyes wander down his toned and muscled arms and chest, ending at his abs, trying not to focus on anything below the belt. He clears his throat and then I look back up at his eyes.

“Are you sure you don't need help with anything else?” I ask, bending down to pick up his shirt. It's still warm and smells like him.

He pushes his shoes off to the side, and undoes his belt. I can't help but watch his hands.

“Yes Stella, I think I can manage the rest from here. I'm quite capable of dressing and undressing myself.”

I feel warm all over as I back out of the changing room, “I..I understand. I'll be outside if you need me.”

I lean against the wall and try to catch my breath. My mind, nerves and sexual desire are buzzing in overdrive.

Holy hell what the heck was that? He had no reservations about taking his shirt off in front of me. What the fuck is this twisted game he's playing? Was he just testing me to see if the attraction is mutual? Because it definitely is.

My eyes are closed, when I hear the door open.

“Okay, what do you think?”

My head snaps round to the sound of his voice. Damn he looks good in black. The crisp white of his shirt pops against the caramel color of his skin, and the bowtie draws attention to his handsome face and brilliant smile.

“Wow, Martin. Just wow.” I can't hide my smile of admiration.

“I know right? Eric really knows what looks good on me.”

He certainly does.

“You bet I do!” Eric says, grinning from ear to ear with pride.

After a quick visual assessment Eric nods. “And it's a perfect fit.”

Martin catches me staring and makes a show of adjusting his shirt cuffs and smoothing the lapels of his jacket. I can feel myself blush when he lays a smoldering look on me. He knows he looks good and that I'm checking him out. He undoes the button on the jacket and casually stuffs his hands in the pockets of the trousers as if he already owns them.

“Great then. I'll get changed and then you can ring me up.”

Eric smirks at me when Martin disappears to go change, “You like him don't you? You know you're just his type. Please tell me that you two are a thing.”

I'm caught off guard by his observation, but I can't help but tell him the truth.

“Not yet, but I'm working on it.”

Eric laughs, “I knew it! The two of you have been setting off serious sparks ever since you walked in.”

Well whatever is going on it's seriously something volatile.

“You're his friend, any advice for me?” I ask nervously.

I can't believe I'm really asking someone how to pursue a relationship with Martin.

“Be patient, he knows what he's got going on, but under it all he has a good heart and a good head.”

“And a good face.”

He grins and points at me, “You, Stella. I like you. Got spunk for days.”

Martin comes back out, “What are you two grinning about?”

“Oh nothing. Stella and I were just talking about cute boys that's all.”

He laughs, “I bet your husband wouldn't like that.”

Eric laughs, “Nah he'd just be jealous about missing out on the details.”

I blush and look down at my shoes, praying for the floor to open me up and swallow me whole. “Um, can we go now?”

Eric winks and collects the tuxedo and accessories from Martin, “But of course Madame et Monsieur, right this way.”

Standing next to Martin at the counter I try not to peek at the price of everything as Eric rings them up. Martin hands over his black Visa card. “So I'm assuming the hemming of the trousers to the proper inseam is included. And that everything will be delivered to my address?”

Eric smiles and nods as he makes a note on the receipt. “Yes Mr. Mercado, and as always it's been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Thanks Eric, we'll be back.”

We? What's this we all of a sudden?

“Nice to meet you Stella.” Eric says as we turn to go.

I smile and wave and then Martin leads me back out of the store. Out on the street I turn on him.

“Ok Martin, out with it. Why did you really invite me out to go shopping with you?”

Martin runs his hand over the side of his face, and looks down at his shoes with a sigh. “Honestly?”

I fold my arms across my chest, “I'd like the truth, yes.”

Martin looks up and the expression on his face is open and sincere. “The truth is…that..that I like you Stella. I was looking for an excuse to see you again.”

Well holy shit. I don't know what to say.

“Stella?” he says, as he catches me staring at him again. “Say something.”

I blink and then look down and reach for his hand. When I look back up at him again he's smiling. “I think I'd like that Mr. Mercado.”

He steps closer, “And what exactly would you like Stella?”

“For you to find more excuses to see me. Because I like spending time with you too.”

He brings his hand up to brush the hair back from my face, his thumb grazes my cheek and sends a thrilling sensation traveling down my neck. He leans in close and my eyes drop down to focus on his lips, now just a breath away from touching mine. I suck in a breath in anticipation and then he draws himself back.

With a sigh he steps back from me. “Can I call you sometime?”

I feel like all the air has been squeezed out of my lungs so I just nod.

“Yes, anytime.” I manage to whisper.

"Okay good, but for now let me call you a cab."

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic Ch. 6

HIGGS 3.0

“I’ll cut to the chase, I want to negotiate an offer with you. It’ll be worth hearing me out.” Higgs said, his voice just as confident as the posture he took on. It took a lot of effort on his part to not come across too domineering. Whenever Higgs wanted something, he took it. There was no need to ask for favors or to be kind about the request. Now wasn’t such a case. The years being isolated, and almost stripped entirely of his powers had put things into perspective.

Higgs could intimidate, his body memorized all the simple gestures to get the point across he wasn’t to be screwed with, but when it came to actual combat, he was sloppy. Not to mention pretty weak at times if the right kind of fighter read him like a book. Higgs didn’t want Gene to be spooked by him, but neither did he want her to believe for a second she could walk over him. He had to perform a balancing act both mentally and physically, and behind the facade of confidence, he was nervous.

“I can see your mind is already trying to figure out how to get out of here, but I kindly ask you to give me five minutes tops.” Higgs said as he held up his hand displaying his five fingers for emphasis, tilting his head some as he could feel more water droplets from his shower a half hour ago begin to drip down the strands of his hair.

“Play your cards right, I might let you have a slice.” He said, leaning down behind the doorway to pick up the pizza box cargo Gene had delivered. He grinned briefly, for a moment forgetting about what he intended on talking about as his stomach and mind became fixated on eating. Higgs had been waiting for this day for a long time, and he needed to sate his hunger.

“No thanks, it's your delivery.” Gene said, her tone indicating she was trying to figure out what Higgs’s angle was.

“But it’s your favorite, right? You got me the kind of pizza you would eat. That was my request. I figured you’d want some after carrying it miles and miles out to the middle of nowhere.” Higgs said and shrugged giving a callous laugh. Oh well be a bitch, more for me. He thought to himself briefly then stepped out. He walked past Gene and looked outside the shelter that surrounded the terminal and entryway to his humble abode. His eyes glanced around at the sky, as the smell began to hit him. Rain was coming. He had been here for so long he memorized the weather patterns and up in the mountain area it was going to be rough.

“Was your plan to bait me into talking shop with you the whole time or did you really want pizza?” Gene asked accusingly as Higgs shrugged and gave a chuckle.

“Maybe. Maybe a little bit of both. You’ll never know.” He turned and winked at her.

“You were saying something about an offer, Higgs?” Gene asked, sounding irritable and ignoring his tease. Higgs took a step back and then turned towards her, the cargo box holding the pizza close to him.

“Yeah, why don’t you step into my office.” He said as he walked ahead of Gene, going towards the security door that lead into his dwelling. Higgs stopped when he didn’t pick up on her following behind and turned around. Gene was cautious, yet her gaze seemed to convey the assumption that Higgs was full of shit for thinking she’d blindly go into a strangers domain. He couldn’t blame her.

“I need to hit the road. If you want to talk business or whatever, we can do it out here.” Gene stood her ground and Higgs had to hand it to her, she was a no bullshit type of person; a trait he admired in the very few.

“I like your spunk and I honestly don’t want you anywhere near my shit, but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” He then pointed up towards the ceiling of the terminal port as Gene stepped out from underneath it and looked at the sky. It was becoming more grey by the minute, and Higgs didn’t need to see it for himself. Her expression conveyed all he needed to know. Gene knew as well as Higgs that the storm coming was going to ravage the route of her trip. She maybe had three hours tops to get down through the mountain pass, but that was if Gene got a running start. Higgs could see she was carrying a large package on her back, and while she wasn’t looking, he shook his head. Good luck with that. Higgs thought to himself. Any porter with that kind of luggage, save for the likes of someone like Sam Bridges, would be screwed trying to get through a powerful storm like the one coming. Higgs could already feel the wind began to pick up in power, the whisking sounds conveying it was gaining strength.

“Can stay out here like a dog in a doghouse for all I care, but I don’t think you should be going out on your lonesome anytime soon chicky.” Higgs, feeling the pain of hunger begin to hit, made his way back inside. At this point he didn’t care if Gene was going to hear him out or not much less if she was going to stick around. He was just happy having one of his favorite meals again.

“God damn it,” Higgs could hear Gene mutter to herself in a harsh whisper and he smiled upon hearing her footsteps trailing behind. Hook, line and sinker.

“Watch your step--” Higgs tried to forewarn before Gene yelped aloud. Her hands clambering at her forehead after knocking herself into the low ceiling. There was a steep drop into Higgs’s domain courtesy of the prepper nutjob that used to live here, and as Higgs turned around to assess the damage Gene took, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was amusing seeing someone else besides him getting canned in the face for a change.

Gene looked up and glared at Higgs. He was quick to throw his hands up in surrender, along with the cargo box he carried. “My bad. You’re the first company I’ve had in a long time. I haven’t seen such golden comedy in ages.”

“Can you fuck off?” Gene asked, rubbing her forehead as she hissed, rubbing at a healing cut above her eyebrow which Higgs took notice of right away. It was started to bleed, the ceiling having torn off a scab that formed. He wasn’t sure if Gene took notice of the trail of blood making its way down her face.

“I like your offer, but that’s not my kind of thing.” Higgs sat the pizza down, going over to a small cabinet of sorts and began rummaging around some stuff. While Higgs searched around for some medicine for Gene to put on her cut, he glanced occasionally out of the corner of his eye at her, watching Gene’s every move. She appeared observant of his decorum, glancing at a wall with notes and a trove of scrap work he had worked on and off for months.

“Did you make all the Egyptian stuff outside?” Gene asked as Higgs was taken aback from the question before he found the capsule he had been seeking. He got up and tossed the little pill towards Gene, which she caught fast, having become aware finally that her wound had opened up as she cracked the pill open and began to smear an antibiotic gel over it.

“I’m amazed you even know what that is.” Higgs said impressed, crossing his arms for a brief moment as he watched Gene apply the last bit of gel to the wound.

“I may be a porter, but I’m not that dumb.” Gene said in her defense.

“You could have fooled me. After taking the hit coming into my house I question if your intelligence is a little--” he gestured his hand, rolling it like a wave off sync. “Muddled.”

“Did you invite me in here just to insult me or are we going to talk about this arrangement of yours? I’m getting tired of the insults. Maybe that’s why no one has sent you a Christmas card. You act like a dick.”

Higgs’s smile seemed to bloom at how enraged Gene was getting. He was having fun. “I know I’m a dick. I own it. You should own up to your faults too, chickadee. It puts things into perspective. Wouldn’t you agree that having that kind of awareness is worthwhile?”

Gene shrugged, glaring towards him. “It doesn’t help to have that kind of awareness and not change your shit persona.”

“Touche’.” Higgs said with a laugh. As much as he was enjoying toying around with Gene, he was dying to get his mouth around a slice of pizza. He was speedy opening up the cargo box. The aroma hit his nose and he let out a sigh of relief as if he were breathing for the first time in his life. His cool eyes scanned over the deep dish, looking at the toppings. Higgs’s eyebrow quirked at one topping in particular he wasn’t expecting. He picked up the piece of pineapple, inspecting it like a detective. He could see from the corner of his eye that Gene was watching him with confusion before he huffed, lifting his hand with the pineapple piece at her.

“That’s adorable.” He said before tossing the fruit into his mouth and chewed slowly. He purposefully left his remark ambiguous so Gene couldn’t tell if he was pleased, or a little disappointed in the choice. Higgs ate all the pineapple pieces off first, avoiding all the meaty bits and peppers before he truly dug in. To say he ravaged a good quarter of the pizza was an understatement, groaning on the occasion in pleasure as the flavors hit his mouth and the sweet spots of his tongue. Higgs was in heaven. So much to the point where he didn’t notice Gene had been standing the entire time observing him awkwardly for nearly two minutes straight. Once he picked up on it, he slurped a long strand of cheese into his mouth and got up.

“Where my manners at?” He said aloud, looking for something to offer Gene to sit upon. Higgs settled for a beanbag chair he confiscated from a MULE’s base ages ago. There were small tears in it, but it would have to make due. Higgs didn’t exactly design his home to cater to anyone but himself. He watched as Gene slowly took a seat, sinking a bit into the material. Higgs couldn’t help but snort at how awkward she looked while he went back to eating.

“You gonna drink the alcohol I got for you?” Gene asked, gesturing towards the canister cargo near the front of the entrance. Higgs shook his head, swallowing another bite of pizza.

“Nah, I’m good for now. I plan on saving it for later. Thank you kindly for the pizza. Well worth it, though I’m more of a classic guy myself when it comes to flavors. I like to keep things simple.” That was probably the first time Higgs had been sincere in a long while. He was truly thankful for the delivery, and he tried making an effort in his tone to convey that to Gene as much as he enjoyed picking on the poor gal.

“No worries,” Gene said and Higgs could have sworn she sounded appeased with him. “Do you want to keep stuffing your face or do you want to talk now?”

Higgs was surprised Gene didn’t sound as antagonistic just now. Adjusting in the seat after he put the cargo box down with the remaining slices, he let out a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s chit chat. You’re the first porter I’ve encountered in a long time. Hell, this is the first delivery I’ve gotten in three years, though I’m sure given your job position you met many people with that same circumstance.”

Gene nodded as Higgs pressed on. “I’ll admit, you got me good with your little speech before about everyone needing help. Lord knows I too am at fault for needing service. I like keeping to myself cause’ it makes things easier to deal with, but I have good vibes about you. You seem to know when to keep your mouth shut and when to not let your employers know about under the table gigs. My offer is simple: supply me with stuff such as pizza and the occasional basic necessity every month, and I’ll make it worth your while. I got all sorts of neat little goodies from prowling around these parts. Items that could make you filthy rich if you sell to the right colonists outside the UCA. What do you say to that temptation?”

Higgs watched as the gears in Gene’s head began to turn. She seemed stumped. Higgs assumed she didn’t expect him to sound as eloquent just now, that it had taken her aback. He was quite proud of himself as he allowed his lips to form a smile, head tilting some in thought as he waited for an answer.

“I  barely got away with getting you this delivery. If this is going to be a monthly occurrence, Brisk HARPY’s computer system is going to pick up on it and then we’re both in trouble. You get outed and I may be out of a job.” Gene explained as Higgs sighed sadly, shaking his head.

“And here I thought you had balls. My mistake.” He said in a taunting tone, throwing up his hands briefly to mock Gene further as she quickly interjected.

“Look, it’s not that I wouldn’t do it.” Gene started, piquing Higgs’s interest as he leaned forward in his chair and met the porters gaze. “You’ve been a loner for a long time, and I reckon at one point in life you had the same job as me. You couldn’t even begin to understand how much the systems have changed. It’s not as easy keeping stuff off the books. Quality control tally shit up five times over since Homo Demens have caused massive exoduses. There’s too many people in certain communities, and not enough to go around to support everybody. Security is tight.”

“Understandable, as it should be.” Higgs said sympathetically. “I figured you were smart enough though to bypass some things. You managed to pull it off with this request, did you not?”

Gene hesitated before nodding, Higgs in turn mimicking her movement before he spoke further. “I’m sure with the right motivation, I can get you to do it again for me. With the things I got, if god forbid, you got your hand caught in the cookie jar by Brisk HARPY, you’d be set credit wise. That’s something I would never lie about.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing a liar would say.” Gene countered and Higgs laughed so hard he almost felt a muscle in his side spasm.

“Now, why would I go through the trouble of lying to you? I’ve been blunt if I do say so myself. Look I’m not the type to bend over backwards for just anyone. You’re a special case.”

Gene raised a brow at him, her gaze weary as Higgs could pick up on it even with the dim lighting in his home. “You sound as if you were someone ‘special’ at one point.”

“Oh honey,” Higgs chuckled in a low drawl. “You have no idea.”

Higgs allowed the small talk to die down, allowing Gene some time to digest his offer in full. He went back to eating the rest of the pizza in the meantime while waiting for her to rack out the details in her head. Higgs was unsure if she was going to go for the offer. Hell, he wouldn’t blame her for turning it down. From a porter's perspective, it was risky to a fault. Even after all these years, he could understand the mentality of saving your own ass especially when working for a company. Higgs still hoped in the subconsciousness of his mind however, that she’d say yes.

Higgs wouldn’t ever be caught with his pants down, but he didn’t just want a little parakeet to come around every so often with goods when he felt like being lazy looking for supplies out in the field. He missed having someone to talk too, even if all he did was insult and backhand. That was something Higg’s cursed Gene for many times since their first encounter. He realized how much he missed interacting with another, despite loving his hermit life he made for himself. Higgs settled for being touch starved for the rest of his life, not really yearning for it because of his daddy’s abuse, but not talking to anyone for the rest of his sorry existence was a scary concept he slowly began to contend with. Even though at one point Higgs considered himself a god, he was only human after all. Higgs made peace with tolerating Gene just to satisfy that primal need.

“I’ll take the deal, if you can answer a question for me.” Gene finally piped up as Higgs could feel pride burning in his chest. It made him euphoric knowing he was getting what he wanted. For once, he didn’t have to use violence to get it across. Who would have thought simple banter would do wonders?

“Shoot sweetheart.” Higgs said.

“How did you know David, the Homo Demens member you killed?”

Higgs had already rehearsed a similar scenario in his mind in case the plan with Gene had backfired or if she got too prying. He was more than ready to give his white lie. “Once upon a time I was porter, much like you and I did some bad things under the table for money. David was just one of those clients. He paid me a lot, and I kept my mouth shut. Eventually I got along well with the group and did all sorts of smuggling. That’s the gist. I was desperate at the time.”

“Why did you quit the delivery life?”

Higgs chuckled and waved a finger at her, like a parent dismissing the remark of their rude child. “That’s a bedtime story for another day I’m afraid. May I ask why you decided to become a UCA boy scout?” He asked, mocking the fact she was a porter. Nonetheless despite Gene looking less than amused at his tone, she answered truthfully.

“It was the only thing I was good at. I never really amounted to anything.”

“Can’t be true,” Higgs interrupted. “At least from where I’m standing.”

He could have sworn Gene was blushing from his compliment, but given the lighting in the facility, he wasn’t sure. Nor did he want to linger on that thought.

“My parents were both scientists, botanists. They had a kid who could never compare intelligence wise so I did the next best thing. I’m good with my hands and my body. Being a porter was a calling. It seemed like a no brainer.”

“Your mama and daddy still around?”

“They died, a long time ago.”

“My condolences.” Higgs could feel some sort of tension in the room and glanced to the side, deciding to concentrate on the package Gene had been carrying on her back now lying towards the back wall of the small living space. It didn’t take Gene long to take notice, which Higgs intended.

“So uh, what kind of delivery are you making with that thing?” Higgs asked curiously as Gene herself turned and looked at the cargo container.

“I actually have no clue. It’s UCA top priority though.”

“I take it you’re a good little boy scout and won’t dare to open it?” Higgs challenged mockingly as Gene cast a firm glare upon him. Her gaze was territorial to say the least.

“Not on your life.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to let the bad bitch out of the box. I’m just playin’ you.” Higgs said, waving his hands playfully. As if she could really hurt me. He thought to himself and shook his head. He was growing tired by the minute.

Prior to Gene making the delivery, Higgs had gotten back from a six hour trip trying to find some power cells to keep his humble abode afloat. It wasn’t easy, living in an old preppers bunker lodge. Even when he was living with his daddy long ago as a child, Higgs could recall how difficult it was to keep the electricity running. His daddy having to leave for days at a time to get enough resources to keep the home going, despite telling Higgs up and down that the outside world was no place to go. Thinking of the hypocrisy made Higgs glare, and he unintentionally was doing so towards Gene.

“Did I do something?” Gene asked defensively before Higgs grunted and shook his head.

“No, was’ just thinking about something. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence filled the room, cutting the atmosphere in half. Higgs wasn’t feeling too comfortable being around Gene’s presence. He cleared his throat, giving a yawn as he stretched his arms and got up walking towards a corridor that lead to his room. He pressed his ear to the wall, listening for the storm coming in. Gene could faintly hear the howls too as Higgs observed her head trying to follow where the sound was coming from. He took his head off the wall and gestured.

“There’s a hammock you can set up here in the back corner. Bathroom is down across my room. If you’re brave enough to take a shower, I gotta warn you the water is colder than the fingertips of death.”

“That coming from personal experience?” Gene asked, legitimately curious but also joking. Higgs saw her attempts to diffuse whatever tension there was in the living space and laughed. His demeanor changed with a flip of a switch as he furrowed his brows into a glare, gesturing at the back end of his living space where some of his Egyptian sculptures lay by the entrance.

“You can see yourself out in the morning. Don’t hit your head on the way out.”

Higgs made his way to the room so quickly that he had no time to see that Gene was confused by his statement. Like he pulled the welcome carpet from out underneath her feet with how he sounded towards the tail end of his sentence.

The automatic door closed behind Higgs as he collapsed into bed, pulling off his boots lazily along with his shirt leaving himself in his pants as he lay flat on his back and looked at the ceiling. He took in deep shallow breaths, his body beginning the convulsions. Another DOOM’s withdrawal was knocking at his door. Much like what was happening outside, it was the calm before the storm. Higgs swallowed, feeling the pain slowly rise up into his chest. Tears spilled down his eyes as he shut them, trying to force his mind to sleep through it all.

Tagging: 

@kusooi​

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E49 (Jan. 29, 2019)

Hey hey hey, we’re on the internet! Filling in for @eponymous-rose​, it’s time to fake my way through a Talks without having quite caught up yet. What could possibly go wrong?

Tonight’s guests: Sam Riegel & Liam O’Brien!

Announcements: The second season of Between the Sheets debuted last night, ft. everyone��s friend Bobby. It’ll be on Youtube tomorrow morning & is already on the CR Twitch. Next week will feature cinematographer Quyen Tran (aka Sam’s wife!)! Everyone agrees Sam married up. It’ll air Monday night on the CR Twitch.

And now, episode 49: A Game of Names

Brian comes back prefacing some comment with a mention that Matt names the episodes, which Sam immediately derails because he thought Taliesin named them. Poor Matt.

CR Stats: The M9 have cast Disguise Self 97 times. Liam: “What a bunch of lying motherfuckers!” 20 were by Nott; 17 were by Caleb.

Sam’s found it interesting that his in-game persona has been a bit of a facade, but Nott as a character is in an in-between place between who she was and who Nott purports to be. “It might be weird to be called Veth, actually, because it’s just not in the course of her experience in the last couple years. She’s gotten used to the name if not the body.”

Caleb doesn’t like to think about Bren or the old self that came with it; he winged the name “Caleb” the moment he met Nott, but now he has a lot of good memories associated with that name. Brian asks if it was a name of someone from his past; Liam points out you can always retcon anything. Sam’s surprised it was the day he met Nott; Liam says he’d actually been using different names everywhere he went, and Caleb happened to be the one that happened to keep being used by people he never left.

Sam and Liam goggle that they both picked characters with false (very similar) names, that their questlines are so accidentally intertwined, and that they’re so linked despite the fact that they’d decided they’d traveled together right before the first show. Sam wonders who else has fake names.

“Nott the Brave” and “Veth Brenatto” being anagrammed was a purposeful decision out of an accident. He was originally going to be Vix off a gag he made in Campaign 1 re: Vex & Vax, but decided he’d better scrap it & just go with a V name instead as homage. He created the anagrammed names together (without the help of a fantasy name generator, he points out).

Everyone thinks Fjord still has secrets to reveal. “What if it’s Ferrrd?” “What if it’s Fred?”

The water issue for Nott grew out organically in the game. He knew she’d been turned into a goblin (and assumed she’d been killed in the process), but wasn’t sure exactly how she’d died until a few months into the campaign. Then he emailed Matt and asked if it was okay if the way Nott had died had been by drowning, and Matt said, “Yep!”

Liam agonizes over the fact that they all can email Matt, asking if something can be added to character history based on how plots are going in-game, only for him to say “Yes!” and then be silent for six months before walloping someone over the head with a barbed-wire bat. Ha!

Liam reminds everyone that Caleb canonically does not know Beau’s last name. Liam knew it and was talking in third person (even though it was in an accent). It was not meant to be metagamed knowledge.

Liam was surprised by the “Fuck him!” comment but was not surprised Nott had had something chambered, so out of game he recognized this was the beginning of Nott’s story & was ready for it. Caleb still feels like he’s walking a tightrope and juggling plates, but Liam points out it’s his own fault if anything drops.

Everyone marvels at Nott’s use of “Bren” as a false name in episode 2. Sam remembers looking over at Liam as Liam gave him “the weirdest look! Liam looked at me like I had just said the c-word.” Liam: “I was staring holes into your skull.” Sam thought Caleb was judging Nott for being deceptive. Liam sat there for a hot minute wondering if Matt had let something slip, if Caleb was talking in his sleep, if Sam had seen a sheet from Liam’s binder... “Anything but this impossible fucking coincidence.”

GIF of the Week: @winteristboi with an incredibly topical GIF of Liam revealing his name, Sam commenting “That’s why you looked at me,” and including a flashback of the just-mentioned episode 21 moment.

The intertwining of Nott’s & Caleb’s backstories has been fun for both of them. Sam finds Liam an excellent actor and likes doing scenes with him. Liam and Sam both talk about how they actually prefer bumps in the road and complicated relationships instead of everyone being friends & peaceful. They had a conversation months ago about how they’re looking forward to things falling apart within the group. Liam reminisces about how much he loved the bowl argument with Beau. “That’s the best part of the show.”

Nott is very excited that part of Caleb’s backstory is out so that he can get some healing, maybe.

Caleb is closer to Beau than the rest of the M9 at this point. In the moment of his backstory, “he was wanting to borrow her spine. And Beau had rested her hand on his shoulder just moments before, and that was reassuring to him because he knew things could get ugly, so he was looking for that again.”

Very quickly, Nott saw something in Caleb that reminded her of her son. “A boy who was scared and alone in the world and needing someone to take care of him.” Even in game zero, Caleb was knocked out and Nott had to save them, kill the gnolls, and get them out of there singlehandedly.

Sam finds out onscreen that halflings live much longer than humans. It’s hilarious. “I thought they lived the same as humans!” He’s worked it out with Matt that Veth is not older than Caleb, who is 32. Veth got married at 20ish (childbearing age), spent a couple years happily married, goblins intervened, escaped, and is now about 25 years old (a young mom). “Similarly, as I understand it, when you are reincarnated, you are given an adult body, so goblin Nott is 7-8 years old.” Liam gasps that if she doesn’t get changed back, she’s taken a 200 year lifespan and violently compressed it to only a fraction.

Many of Veth’s quirks (collecting things, general nervousness, and enjoyment of wine) were badly exacerbated and heightened in goblin form. Where she enjoyed a nip of sherry wine before, she’s now a raging alcoholic. Where she enjoyed collecting baubles before; now she’s compulsively stealing. She was a nervous Nellie before; now she’s ratcheted anxiety. Sam discussed this with Matt. Liam again: “Her lifespan was condensed down into this dense little ball; her habits were condensed into a dense little ball too!” Sam, brightly, dancing: “It’s a saaad episode!”

Liam’s asked about his arm-scratching as Caleb. (Sam’s stunned; he never realized!) In Liam’s mind, the scars are extremely faint and old, and it’s cold in Wildemount. He doesn’t imagine them as large or even visible gashes unless you knew where to look.

Sam envisions his goblins as just generally amped up. Not angry, but murderous. Sam also has been playing it that Veth has been becoming a bit more goblin & less halfling over time just because she’s being overwhelmed by the physiology. It would have been different if she’d been in a different body. She’s very eager to get back, but she is also aware that her “perceived vehicle” who might be able to get her back to her original form is not quite ready yet. She’s anxious for that to get cooking.

Early in the campaign, when Caleb wakes up from a fight and screams, “Take them out!” he was talking about the crystals Trent put in his arms.

Fanart of the Week: @queddajaw​ with a gorgeous Nott drowning portrait.

Nott has a general tendency to want to see people connect (Astrid’s letter, Jester & Caleb). She knows time with a loved one is not eternal. It’s not really a projection of her own relationship. Augh.

Caleb didn’t give the whole truth because a) it’s too humiliating & heartbreaking to talk about and b) the first confession to Beau/Nott was only out of need, and he was just excruciatingly lonely. He’s gotten it out once and knows that it’s completely awful, and he doesn’t want to dump it on the rest of the group unnecessarily, such as “sunflower” Jester. Liam also didn’t feel it was all pertinent information in the moment since he didn’t want to trample on Nott after she’d just bared her soul to the group. Liam mimes opening a door over Sam’s face: “But alsooo myyy story is super tragic!”

Sam thinks VM was more familiar with each other at this point in their campaign, but not as vulnerable/connected. It’s a very different story.

What makes Sam keep picking goblins as backstory villains? “They’re gross.” Actually, it’s more coincidental this time as Liam was the one who picked his goblin race. Sam talks about how he’s gotten tweets wanting to know why goblins can’t be nice, is he racist against goblins? Sam: “Yes. In your campaign, you can do what you want. Veth might be horribly misguided!” but in his/Veth’s mind at the moment, there’s nothing redeemable about them. She is curious about the butler goblin, but didn’t really get a chance to talk to him.

Caleb is very relieved they’re not going to Rexxentrum.

Sam thinks it was a good time for Nott’s reveal. Caleb had thought it would take longer for him. Matt had asked Sam how long he wanted to play it out, if he wanted the reveal to be early or late game, and Sam told him it would be fine for him even if it never came out in the whole campaign. He’s excited to see how this will change the group dynamic for everyone. 

Liam comments that he always tries to make character decisions that feel true, even if it leads to things that are sad.

Sam did tell his kids how Nott became a goblin. As soon as he was done, his daughter asked him to tell them the story one more time. I have flashbacks to Travis saying “Let’s do it again” at the end of C1.

Sam hasn’t given up on the shirt gag, but he gave away 20 shirts for a donation prize. When he has the shirt, he will wear it. Sam also points out that he’s also tracking the facial hair from C1 too.

After Dark: Secret Secret Names Edition:

Everyone marvels again at how cool Quyen is. Sam tangents full circle into a discussion of Mr. Yuck. Brian tries to get us back on track talking about drinks, and I don’t even know what’s happening right now. Sam drinks a (I think!) Miller Lite on screen and almost throws it back up. You dramatic fool.

Quyen is a big wine nerd, just like Sam. “Now, we enjoy a burger and a beer once in a while, we’re not awful people.” Then he tells a story about how when people bring them wine bottles at their homes as gifts his wife has a terrible poker face if she doesn’t approve of the wine. Don’t buy her wine, is what I’m getting from this.

They discuss Mame Drop from today, which featured some laser discs and old games.

Nott’s favorite reality show would be whatever is the opposite of Hoarders, like maybe Storage Wars. Dani suggests Caleb might be into dating shows. Brian takes great offense at the word “smut” as a descriptor and talks about his 30-person Bachelor watching parties. Dani suggests he [Caleb] might be into the sordid melodrama of that and Real Housewives. Liam: “Tell me more about my character. You too, internet.”

This entire segment has devolved into an almost rabid discussion of reality shows and I legitimately cannot keep up with it. GBBO has come up, cat judging shows, documentaries about Scientology...

Liam & Sam try to have a man date once a year where they have a good dinner and glass of wine together and catch up on their years.

Travis apparently really got into David Blaine like eight years after he was relevant. Brian puts out a call to send him David Blaine gifs. “He’ll know exactly why.”

We end with an incredible moment of tiny Sam’s head being shopped live onto the cutout of his Emmy acceptance. “We go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard, hard, hard.”

And we’re out! Have a lovely evening, everyone, and is it Thursday yet?

[angrypixie-sarisa]

The other Winchester

Piedras Rodantes Pt. 13

Sam x Mexican!Witch!fem!reader x Dean (polyamorous)

Summary: Two months had passed, Sam was definetely in hell and there was nothing to do about it. And then, you met Dean. 

Warnings: swearing, fighting. 

Do i have an excuse for putting this GIF other than loving the scene and Tessa Thompson? Nope. 

GIF’s not mine, credits and love to the owner. 

Dean came out of the bar he was at. He had been catching a bite with his co-workers and as soon as he finished his food and made some more small talk, he called it a day. He usually used Lisa as an excuse, but to be completely honest, it felt weird. He wasn’t used to having friends that weren’t hunters and his hunter friends, the real ones, they were all primarily dead. It felt like everything he did, accepting to go out and grab a bite or a beer was more for the facade he put in front of others, another character like the so many FBI agents he used to play.

With Lisa, it was another story. He felt more relaxed with her and Ben. He got to live that dream he thought it was long lost. He had a family.

As Dean started climbing his pick-up, a shadow caught his eye. He looked around, only to catch a female moving figure exiting the bar. He knew you. Well, not exactly, but he had seen you, everywhere. You just had acquired a small house in the same neighborhood as Lisa’s. You had passed several times through their street, jogging, and also were at almost all the places Ben liked to eat at.

He clenched his jaw. Hell no. He wasn’t having any of that. It didn’t matter whatever you were; it wasn’t nice to have a stalker. He followed you, ironically, as you kept walking your path to your new home.

As people kept passing by your side (the night was still pretty young), you kept having the feeling that someone was following you. Normally, you would calm yourself down and tell yourself to stop being paranoid. After what happened with Sam, your nerves were jumping around everywhere. Even the smallest of inconveniences would trigger them. However, it was already dark outside. You could not afford to push your paranoia away. So you put on a collected and calm face, even when in the inside you felt like it was the worst night of your existence.

There was only one block to go to get to your house. It was almost over.

Dean watched you take a turn to the right. He waited for a moment before continuing keeping up with you. He wouldn’t let you slip away from him.

Just as he made the turn into the alley you lured him into, your fist made contact with his face. You grabbed him by his hair, kicked him off balance and immobilized him into the floor.

“What the fuck is your problem, buddy? Huh? What do you want?” How did he not see you waiting for him? How did you catch him off-guard? This was not how it was supposed to happen.

You pulled at his hair harder.

“Answer me, asshole!” He moved his head to the side so he could speak.

“What do I want? What the hell do you want? Fucking stalker ” He twisted in his place and somehow freed one of his arms, before you could notice; he was pushing you off of him.

You both stood, facing each other, guard up. He was blocking the one way out of the alley. Stupid, why did you let that happen?

You looked at his face, his features. At first, it was for filling a police description, but then you realized…

“Dean?” The question left before you could stop it. Oh fuck, you were royally screwed. It wasn’t like you couldn’t kick his ass. You could do it, but you had just voiced that you knew him and that would make your situation potentially escalate into the worst luck possible. The man had just been suspicious of you following him, admitting that you knew who he was, was well, the stupidest thing you could’ve ever done.

“So, you do know me.” He squinted at you.

How could you explain him? Explain that you’ve had visions about him getting into dangerous situations by doing exactly what he was doing at the moment. Every time he followed someone or something just to double check it wasn’t a demon, ghost, ghoul or whatever, you kind of connected with him. As if you were experiencing it yourself.

At first, you thought it was because of Sam’s…Of Sammy being gone. You thought they were spontaneous bursts of magic due to your lack of control of your nerves, it wouldn’t have surprised you. It didn’t occur to you that maybe it was because you had had moved to the same town where Dean Winchester lived.

Suddenly, his accusations of you following him got even more sense. The best explanation was that, while you tried your best to go back to the magical persona you were before and not minding any business in different locations in town, you accidentally had picked Dean’s eye one too many times.

“What are you? And spear me the lies, you wouldn’t know who I am if you weren’t something else.” He started cornering you. You backed away until your back was against the darkest corner of the alley.

You looked up at his angry eyes; they made you grow angry at him. Screw him and his hunter manners. He had no right in doing what he was doing.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.” You pressed your palm into the wall and felt a pull into the dark. You let it drag you in and away from Dean’s surprised and confused face as you disappear in front of him. Your figure less and less visible until there’s only and empty corner in front of him.

Next thing you saw was your silent new living room and a figure sitting at your couch.

“You shadow traveled!” Crowley scolded you. You rolled your eyes and started rubbing at your left elbow.

“It was an emergency.” You took out of your jacket’s pocket your emergency ointment. You shrugged out of the leather jacket and started applying the ointment in your aching arm.

“Oh, please. I’d love to hear what kind of emergency was it for you to use one of the darkest ways of teleporting. You could’ve got lost or worse end up in purgatory or hell! Just what were you thinking, missy?!” He followed you into your kitchen. He sounded like a worried, annoying mom.

“Okay, first of all, purgatory doesn’t exist, at least, for me. It was an invention of the Catholic Church so people will pay to go to heaven. Second of all, you have to really mess it up to end up in hell and third…” You stopped at this. Was it safe to tell him what had being happening? He was your friend, but even you had some trouble in trusting his line of action. He liked to be unpredictable, even to you. It didn’t mean that you couldn’t predict some things of him, but it was better to play it safe.

“Third?” You kept you’re attention on your actions, opening the fridge and trying to decide whether you actually wanted some cold water or if you opened it just to keep your mind off of Dean. You took in a deep breath.

“Third, I thought someone was following me. I didn’t stop to see if it was true or not. I preferred to get home faster than to let something happen to me. Okay? Sorry if you were worried, but… I’m fine.” You closed the fridge. You had finally worked out what you wanted. You wanted Crowley to leave your house, so you could take the liberty to actually submerge into your thoughts.

You took a step forward to wrap him in a warm hug. You could feel his figure tense to the touch.

It always amused you when you hugged him because he always tried to intimidate everyone and to portray himself as the bad guy you didn’t want to defy, ever. For almost everyone, it worked, but for you it was another story. You always tended to analyze people (by nature), you did it subconsciously so it wasn’t like you had the most of control out of it. That’s the reason why you tended to see more than what was presented to you, why people felt vulnerable and trusted you at the same time.

“Thank you for worrying. You’re a good friend.” He pushed you away after you spoke, quickly turning around, already walking towards the entrance door.

He scoffed.

“Whatever, see ya later.” But you knew he was blushing.

After he disappeared, you went to bed, getting out of your clothes and getting under the covers.

Your visions and running into Dean were no coincidence. Fate had plans for you and him and for the first time in a while, you feared what those plans could be.

 Everything was where it was supposed to be. Every single inch of your store had its own personality and radiated happy thoughts. You really loved the direction where it was going.

You had an idea, an earning of spreading magic towards the world. Not dangerous magic, no, just simple spells or even talismans that no one would ever suspect of them; things that could help people with whatever shitty day they were having and make them happy again. Of course, it was also beneficial to you, making the day of people and helping them would also bring joy to you.

What were you’re services? Well, that was a good question. You didn’t hide the fact that your store was a weird one, especially in a small town. But even if people felt discomfort in tarot readings or selling homemade tea or olds books, they still went in for art and photography and design. Getting your passion for art to the fullest would also attract other types of customers. That was the beauty of it.

You were about to close for lunch when you heard the ringing bell. Your head immediately snapped to take a look to your new customers. You flashed them a smile.

“Hi! How may I help you?” The woman walked towards your counter accompanied by, you deduced, her son, who kept scanning the room with his wonder filled eyes.

“Hi! I was wondering if you, by any chance, knew a good photographer? I saw some good photos displayed at the window.”

“Well, I’m the one who took those pictures. What kind of photos you had in mind?” Her eyes sparkled in excitement.

“Oh, I wanted to take some family pictures. It would be me, my son Ben…” At the mentioning of his son, she hugged him and he flashed you a smile.

“And my…” Just then, someone else entered. Your smile faltered for a second, before you composed yourself. You knew who it was even before taking a look.

Dean approached the woman and planted a kiss on her cheek. He then turned to look at you, already tensing and breathing heavily.

“Hi, honey. I was just asking about the photographer, turns out it’s her.” He clenched his jaw and glared at you. Your smile, strangely, grew bigger. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Hey, uh, would you two go ahead to the restaurant? I want to clear some questions with her.” He turned to look at her. It was all it took. You needn’t be a genius to see that she knew. Maybe she didn’t know all the details, but she knew what Dean was.

“Okay, come on, Ben.” Ben’s attention snapped back toward her mother. He had been looking at a wild cat’s skull.

“Oh, that’s one of the Halloween decorations I was planning on selling. I wonder; how it got there?” The Halloween decorations box was in the storage room, which was locked. You had had the intention of starting displaying them, but after you went for lunch.

You smiled warmly at the thought of the skull’s impatience to be in display.

“It’s so cool.” He picked it up, causing Dean to tense even more.

“Oh, sweetie, no, put it back.” She flashed you an apologetic look, unintentionally. You smiled at her warmly and shook your head. There was no problem at all.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Awesome! Mom, can I have it?”

“No.” Dean said, before he could stop himself and making Ben’s smile go away. The woman turned to glare at him before turning her attention back to her son.

“No, not right now. Maybe later, okay? After all, it’s gonna still be here.”

“But what if someone else buys it?” Your heart was filled with cuteness. No matter what Dean’s reaction would be, you just couldn’t resist it. You said: “I could put it on hold for you, if you want it that bad. That way, no one else will buy it.” To that, his smile returned, while nodding and thanking you. He set the skull back from where he took it and followed his mom out of the store.

When they got out of sight, you walked towards the door, locked it and pulled down the curtains. Whatever was going to happen, you didn’t want any potential customers to see.

“So…” You started as you walked to get behind the counter. “How you wanna do this? You want to tie me down and interrogate me? Want to throw at me salt, holy water and silver? You name it.” You shrugged. “I’m down with whichever, so long as after you’re done, you leave me the heck alone.” Dean got conflicted by your relaxed reaction. Even so, he wasted no time in splashing you, out of nowhere, with holy water.

Your face was wet, as well as your shirt. You whipped away the excess of water from your eyes before scoffing.

“You could’ve have warned me! I have a towel in the bathroom! You ruined my clothes, stupid hunter!”

“Whatever.” He said angrily. He yanked you by the wrist and pressed, what could only be, a silver ring to your skin, before noticing that it did nothing. He then proceeded with the salt and iron, getting the same reaction as the other tests.

Meanwhile, you rested your face in your free hand, looking at him, bored.

“Are you done? I’m kind of hungry and I really want to catch a bite.” He freed your hand and practically yelled at you.

“What the fuck are you?” You leaned forward, putting your best chingona face, before answering.

“I’m a witch. But not like the one’s you’ve seen before. And about following you? You seriously think you’re that special? Is your head filled with so much pride and ego that you couldn’t possibly think it could be a coincidence? I mean, I get that you’re a famous hunter and all, but seriously, if I wanted to harm you or your family, I would’ve already done it.” You’re voice sounded familiar. It sounded so familiar, but he didn’t know why.

“So, are we done? I’ll stay away from you and your precious family and you stay away from me? Sound good? Or do you want to burn me alive, just to make sure of it?” You walked towards the storage room and opened it just a smidge, walking in and closing it behind you.

“Hey. Hey!” Dean followed your path and knocked on the door. There wasn’t and answer. He kicked the door open, only to find you weren’t in there.

Crap, you had trapped him.

“Shit.” He kicked the door and walked towards the counter, scanning the room for a way out. His eyes landed on a key set in the counter with a note attached. He took it and opened the note, which read: Help your-self out. When you exit, could you do me the favor to lock the door, pretty please? If you do, then throw the key casually on the street about a block away. Thank you. Hope you enjoy your pizza and that we never see each other again. Bye.

Just what the fuck was your deal?

Days had passed without another sight of Dean. It was a blessing. You kept glaring at a photo you took of Sam. He was painting something in a spare canvas you had and trying to convince you that not everyone could paint. You smiled sadly at the memory, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“This is all your fault.” You scolded the picture.

“If you had told them from the beginning, this would’ve never happened.” He didn’t respond. Of course, it was a picture after all. But you could fix it. You could fix all this mess.

You put away the photo in your wallet and opened your closet door. You stepped in before closing it.

The house looked worn out. And the environment was mostly cars and dirt than plants.

You took in a deep breath and stepped into the porch. You knocked on the door. Moments later, someone opened it.

“May I help you, young lady?”

“Bobby, right?” He squinted at you, suspicious.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N and we need to talk.”

[life-love-geekculture]

SPN 14x20: a few (i.e. many) thoughts

Writers lie.

But, they lie in order to tell a greater truth.

At least, that’s how the proverbial wisdom goes anyway. After this episode, however, I’m not entirely sure I know what Chuck’s truth is supposed to be.

“Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible.”

That’s my all time favorite quote from the series. Along with the addendum endings are a raging pain in the ass. Ever since his introduction, I’ve always felt an affinity for Chuck’s character. He’s a writer. So am I. He vocalized a not insignificant part of that experience. Reconciling the pain characters you create and love have to go through to get them from point A to point B. The difficulty in wrapping up a story. Hell, critics. It’s one of the reasons Metatron always drove me a bit nuts during his play at godhood. All of the technique, but none of the artistry.

I guess what I’m trying to get at is Chuck’s turn to villiany hurts a little. It’s brilliant beyond all belief, don’t get me wrong! What better way to get across the theme of free will on a meta-narrative level? But within the SPN universe it just feels anti-thetical to the story he’s been “telling”. An honest to god betrayal of it.

Don’t get me wrong. I can buy the avoided apocalypse (the first one at least) was Chuck’s intent all along. He wanted Sam and Dean to choose family. He created free will so it could be used. It plays seemlessly into the parental metaphor they’ve also attached to him. The kids have got to grow up sometime. And part of growing up means cleaning up your messes on your own. Which the Winchesters do...a lot.

This sudden shift in attitude,though, just doesn’t make sense to me. It’s less writing an ending as crumpling the document and throwing it away. If the multi-verse is supposed to represent drafts, then Chuck is the kind of writer who keeps ahold of them because some element in one could make another better (and now bringing all the alt-hunters back make sense on a meta level and my head hurts). The point is, if SPN is his final draft or his favorite why destroy it?The characters’ didn’t do what you wanted ? That’s half the fun of being a writer! The unexpected twists of creation! Inspiration turned to life! It makes no sense.

And so I tried to look at it from the God-angle perspective and it still doesn’t make sense. Chuck doesn’t change. Like he told Lucifer he’s pretty much the same as he’s always been. Yes, there’s the Old Testament’s wrathful side. The fire and brimstone and punishment, but even in the Bible that’s balanced with compassion and forgiveness. There’s the Chuck whose solution has always been: build a bigger box. The one who fought for creation to be born. Not made, born. The one who could be reasoned out of apparent wrath because the point was the lesson (the truth) he was trying to get across. And then I remembered his exchange with Castiel...

Chuck: See this is why people need to lie. It’s good. Keeps the peace, you know?

Castiel: Seems like an odd stance for...you.

Chuck: Is it? I’m a writer. Lying is kinda what we do

Chuck is God’s lie.

That is, it’s the mask he wears to keep the peace. It’s his way of walking away and letting the kids learn (and in many ways blossom) for themselves while still supervising. It’s something Metatron calls him out on when they meet in season 11 to discuss Chuck’s autobiography. Specifically, Metatron notes the emphasis on time spent in the Chuck persona was being used to hide the truth. And, it’s a truth Chuck readily confesses to Sam in the Bunker.

Jack told the universe to stop lying. Chuck comes back immediately in full father-mode. The father who demands obedience over the growth of the children (hello, season 1 & 2 parallels). These are not coincidental. Now, sure Chuck could fix creation, but could he do the same for himself? Evidence suggests...not so much. And, based on the look Billie gives Jack in the Empty, the kid done fucked up something. That was not a happy look.

So where does this leave us?

Well, with a zombie apocalypse in the immediate future and lots of ghosts to deal with next. More importantly, though, it looks like the boys may be on a mission to stop or save God himself. It’s...it’s a hell of a way to go out. The writer in me is very proud.

Before I wrap this up, though, a few thoughts on TFW 2.0:

First, I called it with Dean. Again, not a surprise. As I said, he needs to get to the edge before he can back off from it. That said, this episode wasn’t without some painful moments for him. As some of you may know, I’ve started rewatching and reviewing old episodes of SPN in preparation for the series finale. A bit serendipitous given recent events, but as part of that I rewatched episode 1x03 recently. Dean’s speech about Mary being his hero is so similar in tone to the speech he gives Lucas (the kid with the psychic link to the lake ghost) about his belief in Mary wanting him to be brave. It physically hurt to watch. The facade hiding the pain of Mary’s second death publicly cracking in a way similar to the facade hiding the pain of her first. But it also made me really excited to complete this review series and pull out those hidden parallels. Also, don’t think for a second I won’t point out how much of a nerd Dean really is. I have said it for years and now I feel vindicated!

On a more serious note, I don’t know what to say about Jack. Seeing him dead hurt (the only tears I shed in the finale to be honest). But this season left off with so many unanswered questions. Just how powerful is this kid? What are the Shadow and Billie planning? What is with Halucifer 2.0? How the fuck do souls actually work? And I’m still trying to get my head around his self-prophecy to Cas. A perfect world has always seemed, again, anti-thetical to the point of the story. The power of choice means things can’t be perfect and the only way to bring about perfection is to rob creation of choice. It’s a constant battle the Winchesters have had to fight. I’m cautiously intrigued to see how this storyline is going to be fulfilled.

So let’s talk about Sam. I knew the kid was in a bad place going in to this episode, but...DAMN!

I’m pretty solidly in the camp he wasn’t intending to kill Chuck with that wave of multi-dimensional hoo-haa. Sam’s only ever been that bad of a shot during the trials when he was sick. Still the fact he even tried it...This might be the one thing I can’t forgive Dean for this season. Even when the boys have been at their worst, Dean still allowed Sam to talk.To get his grief out. There’s been no relief since Mary’s death and Sam’s journey has inevitably played into a point I made reviewing Absence(14x18). The boys are used to dealing with death as a matter of consequence, not an accident. Which is why Sam is currently blaming himself for what happened. While it’s true Jack’s storyline for the season contributed towards Mary’s death, it’s something that could have happened regardless of if he had a soul or not. There’s no cosmic choice involved. But add it to the list of things that have gone wrong this season, and it makes sense for Sam to shift the blame to Chuck when he realized he’s been watching and apparently not doing anything (something we’ve known about Chuck for practically forever).

It’s something people do when bad things happen all the time in the real world. Chuck could have been less of an ass explaining why he couldn’t help, but he’s sorta not...wrong. Assuming he didn’t interfere with Jack to kick this mess off (and I hope to God that is not the case), it all goes back to free will. Sometimes bad things just happen. Sometimes Someone makes a stupid mistake in the heat of moment, and you just have to live with the aftermath. That said, I just kind of want to wrap the moose in a bunch of blankets and keep him protected in the Bunker forever and...

And so finally, we come to Cas. My sweet, awesome fucking angel/best dad in the whole universe. Cas wins the whole season! Give him all of the awards! The poor angel has been putting out fire after fire and I love him for it as much as I’m still terrified for him. It does crack me up a little that everyone got so pissed at the boys last episode for the Ma’lak box, and yet Cas is literally thinking of putting Jack in the Cage this episode. Like father, like son I guess. Yet, it’s clear his intention is to save him. Cas isn’t blind to the danger Jack poses, but his aim is to just contain him till a cure can be found. Not a great solution but the only one we have at the moment. And can we talk about that scene in the graveyard! Perfect imagery of a father being strict but compassionate towards his son who screwed up. All of the awards! All of them!

[ricky-goldsworth]

Okay so for the whole slow burn thing - the worth it trio. AND pick three peeps from homestuck to do it with cause I’m nosy and also want you to suffer xoxo

AHH SAM PLS you really are chaotic neutral I stg

Worthage a trois (the characters, not The Boys):

For slow burn: Adam. He’s so quiet, I think you’d need to spend a lot of time with him to really get to know his character. Also he’s adorable and this trope is adorable, but I mean, all the worth it boys are adorable, so... 

Fake dating: probably Steven? I do think the most fun thing about a fake dating AU aside from the inevitable mutual pining is the performative aspect, and Steven’s whole glow-up with the Kpop training video and also his hard work on his social anxiety/persona in general tells me he would shine at playing a role. 

And that leaves enemies to lovers with Andrew, which I suppose means leaning into the whole creep persona from his early videos maybe? I’m not sure! How could anyone ever consider any of these boys an enemy?!

For homestuck, god help me:

Rose Lalonde for slow burn because I want to know everything about her and this seems like as good a way as any

Dirk for fake dating because I think it would be a really good way to pick apart the facade from the Actual character and Dirk Strider’s relationship to irony is uhhh probably one of the great truths of the universe

And fkn.. three-way tie between Vriska, Karkat and Dave for enemies to lovers because I feel equal animosity and love toward all of them