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flamingfalcon3 · 3 years ago

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Hello! I have finally finished the first chapter of my first Jori fanfic. I’m still trying to get a feel for the character interactions but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it! I’m gonna start posting to ao3 once i get that account set up (and figure out a title lol) but I might as well post the first chapter here! Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Jade knew her girlfriend was hiding something.

Tori was not a hard person to read. Hell, the girl practically wore her heart on her sleeve. It was so easy to guess what she was feeling at all times that Tori had all but given up trying to conceal her emotions.

So, when Jade noticed that Tori was a bit more high-strung and stressed than usual, it wasn’t hard for her to conclude that there was something on her mind.

It also helped that Tori was an awful liar.

“What’s up with you?” Jade asked casually during lunch one afternoon.

“Nothing!” the singer squeaked suspiciously. She cleared her throat and attempted to regain composure. “Nothing is up. Everything is great!”

Jade frowned slightly, not at all convinced, but decided just to drop it for the time being as the rest of their friend group arrived at the table.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Sikowitz made them all tapdance while performing a scene to “demonstrate how important it is to stay in character no matter what the character may be doing” or whatever and then spent the rest of the class monologuing about how a squirrel got trapped in his bathroom.

Jade sighed a breath of relief as the final bell rang and cut Sikowitz off just as he was about to go into detail about the standoff he had with the rodent. The only one seemingly more anxious to get out of the classroom than Jade was her girlfriend, who was out the door before the bell even finished ringing. Their friends glanced at each other in confusion.

“Maybe she really hates squirrels?” Robbie suggested. The others considered it for a moment before shrugging and forgetting about it a second later, exiting the classroom.

Jade strode over to Tori, who was frantically throwing books into her backpack from her locker. Jade leaned back against the locker next to Tori’s while folding her arms across her chest.

“You’re in a hurry,” the goth commented while watching the girl struggle to cram a science textbook into her bag.

“Jade!” Tori jumped slightly, seemingly startled by Jade’s presence.

“That’s me,” she responded dryly. “Did you forget about our date after school today?”

The singer’s eyes widened in realization and her hand flew to her forehead as she let out a groan

“Jade, oh my god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot!” she confessed, clearly feeling guilty she had forgotten they’d planned to have sushi after school ended.

“It’s alright,” Jade replied coolly, quirking the corner of her mouth up slightly to convey to Tori she wasn’t upset with her. “What’s got you in such a rush anyway?”

Tori paused for a moment, staring down at her converse.

“Oh, umm… I promised my mom I would help her with… something,” she mumbled.

“Something…?” Jade probed, hoping to get a little more context on what had her girlfriend so worked up. Tori, however, would not offer her any.

“It’s not important. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Tori slung her bag over her shoulder before stepping towards Jade and planting a short but sweet kiss to her lips. She then turned and began walking towards the exit.

“You better! I can’t have people think I got stood up!” Jade called out after her, earning a hearty laugh from her girlfriend as she left the building.

The goth rolled her eyes, amused by Tori’s refusal to admit what it was she was helping her mother with. It must be super embarrassing or something.

Jade was halfway through entering her locker combination when she remembered something that gave her pause.

Tori’s parents were out of town for the week. Trina had a showcase and they needed an excuse not to show up. Why would she need to help her mom with something if-?

Jade’s phone lit up with a message from Tori directed towards the group chat, asking if anyone could lend her $100 bucks. The goth furrowed her brows. Tori rarely asked for money, and never more than $10 dollars at a time.

Tori Vega, what the hell are you up to?

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All Jade could think about for the rest of the day was how strange her girlfriend was acting. She wasn’t responding to her text messages and apparently none of their friends had heard from her either. It wasn’t like Tori at all, and Jade’s curiosity was slowly turning into concern.

She knew it was silly to be worried. Tori was a big girl, after all. Still, why would she need $100 bucks on such short notice? And what was with her skittish and secretive attitude?

Maybe she was in trouble with someone. Maybe she needed to pay them money in order to keep them at bay.

The thought was so absurd that Jade almost burst out laughing as soon as it entered her mind. This is Tori she was talking about. Miss “I have never stayed out past curfew” Vega. Not exactly the type to get tangled up in criminal activity.

Still, Jade couldn’t help but feel uneasy about Tori’s radio silence. It wouldn’t hurt to pay her a visit, right?

15 minutes later she was climbing through her girlfriend’s bedroom window, which Tori for some reason always kept unlocked. Tori wasn’t there, but her backpack was on her bed and her phone was on her desk. Jade let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she sank down onto the bed. Not 10 seconds later she heard the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open. In walked Tori who jumped five feet in the air and shrieked upon seeing someone in her room.

“Jade?” Tori yelped. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts,” the goth deadpanned.

“So you broke into my house?”

“I didn’t break in. Your window was unlocked,”

“That’s still breaking in!”

“Is it really, though?”

“Yes!”

Jade was about to argue further when she noticed Tori was holding a grocery bag, and its contents looked quite heavy based on how far the bottom was sagging.

“Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing towards the bag. Tori glanced at it quickly before fixing her gaze back on Jade.

“Just some stuff for a science project,” she stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Tori,” Jade huffed. “We are in the same science class. We’re lab partners. We don’t have a science project.”

Tori stammered helplessly, trying and failing to come up with some explanation for what was in the bag. Jade groaned in annoyance, fed up with whatever game her girlfriend was playing.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! You know it doesn’t matter what it is since my opinion of you can’t get any low-” Jade was interrupted by a strange noise coming from somewhere in the room. She immediately turned to locate the source of the sound.

Tori could only watch helplessly as the goth scoured every inch of her room before finally tearing open the doors to her closet. A tiny fuzzy creature emerged from the darkness. And then another. And then another. They kept emerging from the closet until there were seven tiny kittens of various colors and patterns wandering around the room.

Jade slowly looked back up at her girlfriend, confusion written all over her face.

“How-how did those get in there?” Tori stammered, trying her very best to feign ignorance as all the kittens ran towards her meowing hungrily.

Unfortunately her “very best” still wasn’t very good.

“Tori, why were there cats in your closet?” Jade asked, still absolutely bewildered by the scene that was unfolding.

The singer realized there was no way she could talk her way out of this one, and just gave her girlfriend a guilty look before opening her mouth.

“Remember last week when there was that sudden downpour in downtown Los Angeles?” Jade nodded. “Well, I was walking home from Nozu’s when I heard strange noises coming from an alleyway. I went to check to see what it was and-”

“Wait, you heard strange noises coming from an alleyway in downtown Los Angeles at night and you went to go check it out?” Jade asked incredulously. Jesus, Jade doesn’t know how her girlfriend has managed to survive for this long considering her self-preservation instincts were non-existent. Tori just rolled her eyes in response.”

“As I was saying, I went to go check out what the strange noises were and… well,” she turned to look at the kittens scampering around her bedroom.

Jade brought her hand up to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“So let me get this straight, you wandered into a back alley while it was raining and found kittens and decided the best thing to do would be to take them home?” Jade was still bewildered by her girlfriend.

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like a stupid idea,” Tori blushed while avoiding eye contact. Jade sighed but took a step closer to her.

“I mean, I always assumed you would be one of those lesbians who would have like ten cats but I thought that would start after you moved out of your parents’ house,” she smirked.

“Hey!” Tori let out a mock-offended gasp while swatting Jade’s arm playfully. “I mean, I probably will have to move out once they come home and discover I’ve been hiding kittens in my room despite my father being deathly allergic to them.”

Why was Jade attracted to such a moron?

“Can’t you just give them to a shelter or something?” she asked gently. Tori shook her head softly.

“I thought about it but the pounds are apparently really full this time of year so there’s a significant possibility that they'll get…” Tori paused, unable to even finish the thought. “It’s just… they’ve been through so much in the short few weeks they’ve been alive and I can’t just abandon them now!”

Stupid Tori and her stupid heart of gold. The goth groaned and tilted her head back.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll help you with you’re dumb kitten problem,” Jade’s heart fluttered a little as she watched Tori’s face lit up like a christmas tree.

“Really?” She gleamed. “How?”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would be interested in adopting tiny kittens. Especially if you go into detail about their tragic backstory and stuff. People are suckers for that kind of stuff,” Jade stated. “You could like, advertise them on The Slap and try to get them adopted before your parents come back.”

Tori chewed at her bottom lip, contemplating Jade’s suggestion.

“That’s… not a bad idea. People advertise things on The Slap all the time,” she hesitated for a moment and her face fell. “Ugh, wait. Trina follows me. If she finds out I’m hiding kittens in my closet she’ll rat me out for sure.”

Jade closed her eyes and sighed deeply. God, she can’t believe she was about to say this.

“I guess… I could… post about the kittens on my page, or whatever,” she grimaced. Tori’s grin got so wide Jade was concerned her face was about to split in half.

“You would do that for me?” she exclaimed. “But, your reputatio-”

“My reputation died as soon as I changed my status to ‘in a relationship with Tori Vega’,” Jade snorted. “Kittens would be nowhere near as embarrassing as you.”

Tori was beaming at her girlfriend despite the insult, chuckling lightly as she wrapped her arms around Jade’s neck and peppering her face with soft kisses before finally connecting their lips. The goth let out a content sigh in the back of her throat and attempted to deepen the kiss while pushing Tori backwards to the bed. However, Tori hummed and broke the kiss leaving Jade more than a little confused.

“Sorry, I-” the singer stammered. “I would feel weird making out in front of…”

Jade quirked her eyebrows up in amusement.

“In front of… the cats?” she asked, barely suppressing a laugh. Tori nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment. Jade just chuckled and rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s.

“Jesus Christ, Tori.”

#jori #victorious #victorious fanfiction #jori fanfiction #jade x tori #jade west #tori vega

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ahs-loki-and-more · 3 years ago

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No Choice (Michael Langdon X OFC) Pt. 3

Repost from my old blog. Also available on my AO3 account.

Pre-Apocalypse

I’d been with Michael now for about a month now. I was going crazy at the monotony of everyday. We’d wake early and go into Kineros. There I’d spend my day listening to Jeff and Mutt go on about robotics and cocaine. They also made suggestive comments and jokes towards me. Then around 5, Michael would finally be done with his meetings and we’d head home. There we’d eat whatever I chose to make, normally it was pasta, and go to bed. All I knew about him was what his father told me. I know he wasn’t exactly happy to be stuck with me but, he could at least try. Tonight, I planned to learn more about him as person. We had made it home and I made French toast. It was the one thing I knew he liked. I put the plate in front of him and sat across the table. I took a bite before talking. “Michael, how um… how was your day?” I asked. I didn’t know what to ask in order to start the conversation, I never was the conversational type. “Fine, you know I can’t tell you anything.” His response was quick and cold, as if it was so rehearsed it was a second nature to him. “Ok. Well, Jeff and Mutt got quite a bit done on your project today.” All he did was hum in response and the room went quiet as we ate. “Do like being there?” He questioned after a few moments. I was a bit taken aback by it. “Well, I guess. I mean, I wish the boys were a little more appropriate.” “What do you mean?” “They make comments and jokes. They’ve asked how much I charge you, or how I have to be a firecracker in bed. Stuff like that.” “Why didn’t you say something before?” “It isn’t my place.” My voice was barely above a whisper when I said it. “Besides, you have more important issues than my comfortability level.” “You are important and I want to feel comfortable,” his tone was level, stating it as a matter of fact. I let out a small, sarcastic laugh. “You sure don’t act like it.” I didn’t even realize I said it before it was too late. “I’m sorry ignore that.” “No, I won’t. Please go on, tell me what makes you say that.” “You don’t talk to me. I only know things about you because of your Father. I understand I’m just a forced marriage, but we can at least try right?” I got up and started cleaning off the table. “I don’t appreciate your assumptions. I know you, better than you do. Father has opened my eyes to your mind. Every happy moment, every ‘I love you’, and every dirty, little secret. I know you know my past so why does it matter if I tell you? How does that show my affections?” He was standing in front of me, looking down into my eyes. “A month. A month of no stimulating conversation from you. No intimacies of any sort. I’m your fiancée, I deserve something from you. Please. A fucking hug or pat on the shoulder, just something. Talk to me about your day, ask me about mine,” I said. I took a deep breath, chuckling as I shook my head. “What am I even doing? What can I ask of you? There are no repercussions, I’m stuck with you no matter what.” I walked off. I heard him calling me as I did but I just continued on to the bedroom. There I locked the door and laid on the bed crying. Who knew a demon spawn would have so much emotion?

Outpost 3

I left Michael’s office only to be brought down to dinner. He didn’t come down for about 15 minutes. I could feel Veneble’s eyes on me the entire time. Hers and of Coco’s. I did shift a couple times at the lack comfortability. Once Michael did return their glares didn’t cease. At one end of the table they were discussing various rumors. I wasn’t paying attention. I decided to talk to Michael through our minds. What took you so long? I asked him. My thoughts were too entranced with you. Can’t very well show that in front of everyone else. Of course. That’s my business only. I smiled at the thought of how I effected Michael. Veneble has been staring me down since I got here. I’m aware. I can feel the tension. She’ll get hers soon enough. As will that rich blonde. I continued eating and before I could respond I heard Veneble stand and stamp her cane on the ground firmly. Everyone’s attention was immediately drawn to her. “As you all should know, the rules here are non-negotiable. Breaking them can result in dire consequences. However, despite this, someone has disobeyed, resulting in a pregnancy.” Everyone looked shocked at the statement and I looked over at Michael. The whispers soon began about who it could be. “Who is it?” Gallant asked to her. “Miss March, perhaps you’d like to enlighten us at to the situation,” Veneble spoke venomously. All eyes moved to me. “Shouldn’t matter. It’s no one else’s business. The Cooperative are aware of the situation, and that’s all I care to share.” Michael stood. “We are very aware of her pregnancy and have no plans to punish her. This will be the first child of the New World, and we don’t want to cause any harm to the fetus or mother,” his voice was so even, something I’d always admired. “Now, I believe Mr. Gallant said he would like to go come get interviewed.” Gallant stood and followed Michael to his office. “Miss March, Langdon may have let you off, but you will still have to face the consequences of your actions.” She left the room. I knew nothing would happen, Michael wouldn’t allow it. I got up and went to my room. After about an hour of reading, I heard a knock on my door. I went over to answer it, finding Michael. He entered my room and sat on the bed while I shut and locked the door. “How was your interview with Gallant?” I asked sitting next to him. “He wanted me to fuck him,” he said. “I also talked to Veneble.” “What did she have to say?” “She said I have no power here and she is the one in charge.” “Soon she’ll be gone, right love?” He nodded. “What can I do to take your mind off of it?” “No, I think it best for us both to go to bed. I will see you in the morning my queen.” He got up and left. Something seemed wrong and I knew it wasn’t Veneble. His Father must have done something. I’d figure it out tomorrow, because he was right, it was time to go to bed.

Pre-Apocalypse

It had been about an hour since Michael and I’s argument, and I had finally calmed myself down. I suddenly heard a knock. “Ashley, can I please come in?” It was Michael, who else would it be. I got up and unlocked the door. He opened up the door and I went back to the bed, laying down on my side. He came and sat on the other side. “Listen, about earlier-” “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go to bed like every other night.” He shifted and turned me to face him. His eyes were so soft and the bright cerulean made him look almost human. He moved forward and pressed his lips to mine. It was sweet and gentle. He pulled away. “I want this to work, I’m just not used to people being there for me. I don’t want to lose another person who is important to me. I never have done this before, shared feelings or affection. I’m sorry,” his voice was low and I could tell he meant it. “I’m sorry too. I just always imagined being in one of those romantic movies. Life isn’t like that, I realized. I said things I regret but it’s too late to take back. I love you Michael, whether or not you could believe that. I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” I rolled over and got under the covers. Michael shed his clothes, except his boxers and crawled in next to me. For the first time ever, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. That was the best sleep I’d ever gotten. Just as I was about to drift off to dreamland I heard him whisper, “I love you too.”

#michael langdon x reader #ahs apocalypse

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might-be-a-zygon · 4 years ago

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Flat 40b

Chapter Five

What Road to Take?

AO3 link in the reblogs

Thea wasn’t really sure how she’d wound up spending so long chatting to that odd woman in the odder room. It was all a little concerning, honestly- just a woman sitting alone in a little room like that, with such a secure lock. She’d been half worried that someone had trapped her there, but when Thea had held the door open for her to follow, she’d just said she was waiting for a friend to visit and asked Thea to shut it for her.

She hadn’t expected the sky to have darkened when she left the room, but she wasn’t particularly worried. It wasn’t a far walk to the flat, after all, and she hadn’t had much else to do that day.

Still, her casual dismissal of how late it’d gotten did turn to some degree of guilt when she spotted Yaz, still sitting up in the kitchen, looking at her with a degree of relief.

“Where have you been?” She asked, looking Thea up and down as though expecting to see some injury. “Bill said you went for a walk after the lecture and they you never came back- I was worried.”

Thea had the good grace to look guilty, at least.

“I didn’t realise how long I was gone.” She admitted, taking a seat opposite Yaz at the kitchen table, even if all she really wanted to do now was go back to her room and try and work out who that mystery woman was.

“You didn’t even notice it getting dark?” She could tell Yaz didn’t quite believe her.

Thea considered a moment. She could tell Yaz the truth- they were friends, after all. Best friends. By all accounts, she should tell her, but- something deep inside of her was screaming that telling Yaz about the woman in her vault would be a very bad idea. It seemed to be the kind of thing which she just knew should be kept secret.

“I went to the library.” She lied, digging a notebook out of her bag as though trying to prove her point. “Keep having these weird dreams, I’ve been trying to write them down. Thought I might try and make them into a book or something.”

Yaz blinked at her a few times. She seemed to have been caught off guard by that one. “Weird dreams?” She asked, taking her hands off of the mug in front of her and reaching for the book tentatively. Thea handed it over without complaint.

She hadn’t been planning on sharing them again, but in honesty doing so made her feel an awful lot less guilty about lying to Yaz about where she’d been.

“Is that me?” Yaz asked, holding up a sketch of the pair of them in some sterile room.

Thea grinned, nodding. “Yeah! That’s the one where we’re fighting the little goblin!”

“The goblin?”

Thea flicked forwards a few pages to another sketch of a pting. It had a snarl on it’s face, just like it’s real life counterpart had when they’d faced him on the hospital ship.

“I don’t know what I’m actually gonna call them, yet.” She admitted, “But he’s kind of cute, look. They’re these little goblin things that eat everything.”

“And you’ve been dreaming about this?” Yaz asked.

“Yeah. Probably just too much dodgy sci-fi before bed, but I think there are some cool ideas there, if I could streamline them into something.”

“And you- am I there a lot?”

Thea was suddenly very glad she wasn’t much of a blusher.

“Sometimes.” She admitted, not quite looking Yaz in the eye. “A fair bit, really. You’re my best mate, I like it when you show up. Those are always the best ones- we fight aliens and stuff.”

Yaz broke into an almost proud smile, and Thea had to remind herself not to stare. Had Yaz always looked that pretty when she smiled?

“Aliens?” she laughed, as though at some joke Thea didn’t quite get. “I thought they were goblins?”

“Can’t they be both?” Thea asked, flicking through the pages. “I have one in here about vampires who were fish, too…”

“I’m just saying.” Martha raised her hands in mock surrender, “Maybe if it’s been this long and I haven’t seen anything weird, and you haven’t had any weird readings, it was just a machine error or something.”

“There’s got to be a reason that we were brought here in the first place.” The Doctor responded stubbornly, not even looking up at her. He’d been tinkering with the same bit of the console throughout their entire conversation, and it certainly wasn’t helping her feel particularly heard in the situation.

It wasn’t like she needed his undivided attention- they’d not spoken in person once since she’d moved into the flat- but it was more than a little frustrating to be ignored while she was trying to report what was going on to him. It didn’t help that most of the reason she’d agreed to this in the first place was to learn about emerging technology, and since he’d registered her as a first year, she was going through all the basics over again.

“Go through it again.” He said, more instruction than request.

“Go through what?” Martha asked, showing her frustration a little more, now.

“What’ve you found.”

“I told you already! There’s nothing suspicious. No signs of aliens or anything, just a normal Uni campus.”

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and Martha couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at her, or whatever he was fixing. He muttered something under his breath, quiet enough that she clearly wasn’t supposed to be able to hear it, though she could just about pick out the word Rose. That one stung.

Of course Rose would have been able to track down whatever was going on immediately.

Or, at least the Doctor might have believed her when she said that nothing seemed suspicious.

“The energy readings from your flat are off.” The Doctor insisted, finally giving up on what he was messing with, though if Martha thought she was actually going to have any attention paid to her she was sorely mistaken, since he moved straight back to checking the readouts on the monitor. “Who’s living there? You’re sure they’re all human?”

“Well I haven’t exactly tested them all.” Martha replied sarcastically, “But everyone seems normal. They’re eating and sleeping like humans.”

“Nobody’s wearing a shimmer?”

“What’s a shimmer?”

“Oh it’s all-“ he made a vague gesture in mid-air which was apparently supposed to mean something. “You know. A shimmer.”

Martha gave him a blank look.

“…Right.” He nodded after a minute. “I’ll get you something to test for a shimmer.”

“Doctor-“

He cut her off before she could actually voice her question, brow furrowing, “Oh- Yeah you’re right, that won’t work if they’re Zygons.” he said, despite not having given her time to actually say anything even if she had known what a Zygon was. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a DNA scanner too.”

“Hang on.” Martha said, “You want me to scan my flatmate’s DNA? How am I meant to do that?”

The Doctor shrugged her concerns off. “I know you’ll work it out.”

Her meeting with Jack had dragged Yaz right out of the town centre, to some pop-up milkshake shop which was she’d heard a few other students chatting about. She’d been meaning to ask if Thea wanted to go (as friends, obviously), so it wasn’t as though she was actively blaming jack for dragging her away from the University for a little while. After all, they had to make sure to avoid his past self.

She’d arrived first, though she could hardly be annoyed about that- it’d been her idea. She arrived, checked that Rose and the other Jack were absent, texted the all clear, then grabbed herself a drink, and snagged a booth in the back corner where they’d be able to chat with some degree of privacy.

“Yasmin Khan.” Yaz heard a voice that was becoming increasingly familiar from behind her, turning around to smile a little at Jack as he approached her.

It was odd, really- being relieved to see him, rather than dreading it. That first time she’d been scared out of her mind (though in fairness, he had kidnapped all three of them), and the second- well. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d been so overwhelmed by the Doctor’s return she’d hardly noticed Jack stepping out alongside her. This time though? Well, seeing someone she could actually talk to about all of this was amazing.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’m always here to help a friend.” Jack said seriously, despite the grin on his face. He slid into the booth opposite her, “Loving the choice of venue, by the way. Very 1950s.”

“Remind you of home?” Yaz asked, just for something to fill the small talk, though she was really itching to get straight onto the topic at hand.

“You’d think.” Jack laughed slightly, as though at some joke she wasn’t privy to. She didn’t push him.

“So.” She said, when he didn’t elaborate. He sat forwards slightly in his seat, already knowing what she was about to say, “You know about this chameleon thing the Doctor used to make herself human?”

“Not quite.” Jack admitted, glancing over behind her, in the direction of the counter. “I know what it is, but I’ve never been around when she’s had to use it.”

Yaz seemed to deflate a little at that. It was hardly his fault, but she’d really been hoping for some more concrete advice about the whole situation.

Noticing her reaction, he gave her a reassuring look, “Hey, don’t worry. I haven’t see it but I called in a friend of mine who has. Great girl, you’ll like her. She was with the Doctor the last time. Plus she’s from this Time Zone so she’ll cause a lot less chaos hanging around here than either of us will.”

“You brought backup?” The relief on her face grew. She’d been beginning to feel very out of her depth, especially with all of Thea’s talk about weird dreams and secret rooms. What was she supposed to say to discourage Thea from sneaking around when she was supposed to be keeping herself safe? She was still the Doctor under all that, after all.

Jack grinned. “The Doctor drops into a lot of people’s lives. Makes a lot of friends. I knew a woman, once, used to say that for a lonely man, the Doctor had the biggest family in the world.”

Odd as it was to hear the Doctor being referred to as a lonely man, Yaz smiled. It was nice to think how many other people out there would always be there for the Doctor when she needed them.

“And this friend of yours can help?” She asked.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled at someone behind her, and Yaz turned to get a look. “PC Yasmin Khan, meet Dr-”

“Martha!” Yaz exclaimed, shock plain on her face, because- That was Martha, right? It was so clearly her. Except Martha was younger than this woman, by a fair few years, and at least judging by the shocked expression on her face, she didn’t recognise Yaz either.

“You two have met?” Jack asked, looking between them.

Both responded at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Another bewildered look shared, though Jack barking a laugh boke the tension.

“The joys of time travel.”

Martha seemed to relax slightly at that, slipping into the booth next to Jack, and setting a drink down in front of each of them. Yaz didn’t relax. She couldn’t just yet. If the Martha she’d met was younger, why didn’t this one seem to recognise her at all?

“Jack said the Doctor used the Chameleon Arch again?” Martha asked, drawing Yaz’s attention away from that issue for a moment. It was strange, but Jack had said she could help, and Yaz needed all the help she could get working out what was tracking them.

“That’s the thing that turns her human?” Yaz checked. The Doctor had never actually given it a name during their panicked preparations.

“Hang on, her?” Martha raised an eyebrow. “Blimy. He said he could change his face but I never knew he could change it that much.”

“You knew the white haired Scotsman?” Yaz asked. It was what the Doctor had said she’d looked like before.

“He got Scottish too? This must be a few regenerations since I last saw him.” Martha laughed. “I knew spikey hair and sandshoes.”

“Can’t believe I missed them turning Scottish.”

All three of them laughed a little at Jack’s statement, seeming to break a lot of the tension.

“So, spiky hair and sandshoes is who we think is here?” Yaz asked Jack. “You said the past you came here with a previous Doctor to investigate.”

“Oh, no. That was the Doctor with the ears and the leather jacket.” He supplied.

Yaz tried to picture the Doctor running around in a leather jacket, then quickly stopped herself. Nice as that image was, she doubted she’d get much else done today if she didn’t get it out of her head.

Still, that Martha thing was still nagging at her.

“Hang on, if the younger you,” Yaz nodded at Jack, “Is here with a younger Doctor. Then-” she glanced at Martha. “There’s a younger you living in the same flat as me and Rose. Does that mean…?”

“Another Doctor.”

Martha looked between Jack and Yaz, clearly thrown off by this whole thing.

“Hang on. I don’t remember coming here.”

“I don’t either, not really.” Jack said, though he seemed very calm about this whole thing. “Crossing your own timeline can sometimes scramble your head a bit. Makes you forget stuff, so you don’t find out about your own future too early.”

Martha gave him a look. “Do I want to know what you’ve been doing hanging around in your own timestream?” He winked at her, and based on the face she pulled, the answer was no.

“So, three Doctor’s then.” Yaz said, changing the subject. “That feels like a bad thing.”

“Well it’s not a good one.” Jack conceded. “We’re gonna need a way to differentiate, for a start.”

“Ears, Sandshoes and-“ Martha looked to the two who’d met the latest Doctor for a descriptor.

“Rainbows.” Yaz supplied. “She’s going by Thea Smith, right now, though.”

“Thea?” Martha looked surprised. “I would have expected Jane Smith.”

“Might be a little close to home.” Jack suggested.

The pair of them shared a sad look, and Yaz didn’t want to ask.

“Ears, Sandshoes, and Rainbows.” Yaz repeated, trying to get them back on topic.

“They’re like codenames.” Martha said. “It’s like we’re playing spies.”

Yaz felt a shiver run down her spine at the idea of ‘playing spies’. She’d been there, and fun as it had seemed at first… Well, she didn’t want to do it again. She thought about being on the run with Ryan and Graham, knowing how scared her family had to be, the plane, and that endless realm that those creatures had taken her to. They were all still fresh, and had very much put her off the James Bond lifestyle.

“Not spies.” She responded, quickly. The other two looked at her with some surprise. “There was a thing, with the Doctor, and some old mate-but-not-mate of hers. It wasn’t-“

Both of their expressions turned to understanding.

“The Master?” Jack asked and, when Yaz nodded, he spoke with the same bitter anger he’d used when talking about the daleks. “Pity. I’d hoped he’d stay dead.”

Opening up the diner portion of the TARDIS as a student hangout had seemed like a good idea at the time. They’d get to hear more gossip from around campus, and Clara had been kind of hoping it’d get them more information, though as of now she’d mostly just heard nonsense about who was dating who, and which of the tutors had the worst reputation.

The only real consolation was that they were far enough out of the way that they weren’t too busy, despite it being a Saturday morning. She had the distinct impression that most people were probably too hungover from the last night of Fresher’s week to fancy a milkshake.

It’d been an especially easy morning, really, since she’d roped Me into helping her out behind the counter, and she was just cleaning out one of the machines when her girlfriend had nudged her in the side, nodding towards a figure who’d just stepped into the shop.

“Is that…?”

“Jack Harkness.” Me responded, with a tone that suggested she was already bored of whatever drama he was about to drag them into.

It was hard to blame her- it wasn’t as though Earth had a lot of immortals, and from what stories of Me’s Clara had heard and read, they’d run into one another a fair few times over the years, usually with dramatic or dangerous results. Thankfully, he walked straight past them, to settle in a corner booth.

“What’re the bets that he’s behind this?”

Clara shot her a look that said ‘be nice’, despite the very real possibility he did have something to do with this.

“Should I go talk to him?” Clara asked.

Me shook her head. “I’ll do it. I’ve known him longer.”

“Play nice.” Clara said, a pleading note in her voice.

“I’m always nice.” Me responded in mock-offence, though the smile she gave Clara was a little too soft to maintain that charade. She leant in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek, before slipping off towards the corner table.

The fact that they’d settled in the corner was honestly enough of a worry. There were two empty tables in between them and the nearest other customers, and they were speaking in the kind of low voices which implied they were plotting something.

“Okay, so no spy stuff.” Jack said as she approached, “But we’re keeping the code names.”

“Jack Harkness.” She said, drawing his attention, as well as that of his friends. “I should have known you’d be the source of all this.”

“Me.” Jack looked interested at her intrusion, even if his friends looked baffled. “Or, do I still have to call you Lady Me? Because you know I’m not big on titles.”

“Titles like Captain?” She retorted.

“Touché.” He smiled, in a way which made it unclear whether they were friends or foes. “Least you haven’t threatened me with a sword this time. Loving the uniform, by the way.”

“Still the same insufferable flirt, then?”

“You know you love it.” He grinned, before turning to his friends. “Martha, Yaz, meet Me. I have a feeling she might know a little bit about our problem.”

So, on the one hand, hanging around outside his dead wife’s office was an awful idea. On the other, the Doctor really couldn’t resist. He wasn’t planning on talking to her- he just wanted to see her, for a minute.

He knew that it would only upset him, really. He was just opening up an old wound. Somehow, though, that didn’t phase him. Seeing her for a few minutes- letting himself look back just once. It had to be worth it.

The Doctor was fully planning on seeing a face from his past that would make his hearts ache with loss- though the one he got was one that made them sink with guilt, instead.

Ashildr. He’d lost track of her a very long time ago- somewhere before all that hazy business on Gallifrey. Still, in this time zone he’d have assumed that she’d be managing Trap Street, still, not hanging around a University.

Not walking out of River Song’s office with a smile on her face.

Whatever she was planning, he already didn’t like it.

“Ashildr.” He said by way of greeting, glancing towards the door, but barely catching a glimpse of River before it slammed shut.

“Who?” From the look of false-innocence on her face, he got the impression that Ashildr was being purposefully difficult.

“You.”

“Call me Me, Doctor. How many times do I have to remind you?”

“Me isn’t a name.” He replied, sounding almost like a petulant child.

“Nor is Doctor.” Ashildr replied coolly, crossing her arms.

Since he didn’t have much of a retort for that one, he found himself falling silent for a moment, though when she didn’t get a response, and began to walk away, he found himself asking a question just to stop her from leaving just yet. He really didn’t like that she was here- with everything else that was going on, it made him nervous.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, still not sounding the most friendly. He didn’t remember much about his last few meetings with Ashildr, but he remembered coming away from them very angry with her. She had to have done something, he just didn’t remember what.

She shrugged, maddeningly casual about the odd reunion. “The same thing as you, I imagine.”

Well that one certainly couldn’t be true. Ashildr may have had some questionable practices, but as far as the Doctor was concerned his and Missy’s current predicament had to be pretty unique.

“I really don’t think you are.”

Seemingly a little thrown off, she asked. “You’re not here investigating all the odd energy readings?”

“Energy readings?”

Ashildr narrowed her eyes at that. It clearly wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting, at any rate. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’ve got a thing to do.” He replied, sounding totally confident in his own vague explanation, even if she looked unconvinced.

“I told you once I’d protect the world from you, Doctor. I meant it.”

“I know you did.”

“Well then, I’d-”

Before either of them could continue their argument, the office door opened, and an annoyed looking River Song stuck her head out, looking between the pair of them as though they were naughty schoolchildren. Seeing that one of them was a Professor did nothing to change her demeanour- not that the Doctor had expected for a minute it would. Not with River.

“Excuse me, I don’t know what the two of you are bickering about, but if you could take it somewhere that isn’t right outside my door, I think it would be better for everybody. Okay?” She said sharply.

Ashildr offered a quick apology, while the Doctor suddenly found his throat had gone dry, his eyes fixed on the woman he’d been fairly sure he’d never see again.

She waited a full minute for him to speak, before beginning to disappear back inside. “Right, then. I’ll take the gawping fish look as a yes.”

“Y-Yes.” He just about managed as the door slammed shut between them.

By the time he’d managed to process what had happened and turned back to Ashildr to continue their argument, she was already disappearing from view at the end of the corridor.

After the third time going through the information they had at this point (which was about as little as they’d had when they arrived), Amy was really beginning to regret deciding to come back to the TARDIS instead of heading to the Student Union.

“Right…” The Doctor was pacing around the console, still. By now Amy was fairly sure he was talking more to himself than to them. “Right so what have we got? We’ve got a professor who doesn’t age-“

“We’ve got a professor who doesn’t age, and some weird energy readings coming from our flat.” She sighed, looking bored with the whole thing. “It’s the same thing we’ve known all week.”

“Wasn’t River trying to meet the professor.” Rory offered before either of them could say anything more. He just wanted them to stay on track, which between the Doctor and Amy was always a tricky task.

“He won’t set up a meeting with her.” Amy responded, “She said he turned her down when she made a proper request, and he’s never in his office when she goes.”

“So he’s onto her, then?” asked Rory.

“No…” The Doctor had moved back over to the scanner, now, bringing up those readings again, as though he was on the brink of some breakthrough the others couldn’t see. “No. Doesn’t make sense. I’m missing something-“ He turned to the pair of them. “What am I missing?”

Rory gave him a blank look.

“Right. Of course. In my head. Yeah…” The TARDIS made a wheezing noise, which appeared to mean something to him based on his reaction. “Oh! Oh, yes. That’s good, okay…” He began digging through a drawer under the console.

“What’s good?” Amy asked, leaning forwards to try and get a look what he was messing about with. When he didn’t respond right away she actually stepped over to get a look at the odd little device he was holding. It looked a bit like a USB drive, just with a display screen. “Doctor? What’s that?”

“What does he teach?” He asked, instead of answering her.

Amy hesitated. She knew that Bill, Thea and Jenny had been to lectures with their mystery professor, but she’d never bothered to work out what the lectures were actually about.

“Oh, I don’t know. I could ask my flatmate, he’s her personal tutor. Not sure what she studies, though.”

“Oh, that’s great.” He tossed the not-USB-drive to her, “DNA scanner. Should be able to work out if he’s human or not. You’ve just got to get close enough to use it.”

“And how am I meant to do that?” She asked, turning it over in her hands.

“Ask your friend if you can tag along to lectures or something.”

“Oh, great.” Amy replied, sarcastically, “You’re signing me up for mystery lectures with the maybe-alien professor.”

“Try and use it on your flatmates too, if you can.” The Doctor responded, either not picking up on the sarcasm, or deliberately ignoring it. He was messing about trying to wire something into the console, now, though he seemed to be mostly doing a lot of running around and sonicing various things.

Amy looked the device in her hands over. “You should’ve given me this earlier. Would have been easy to use it if I went to that comedy night with Rose-“

There was a clatter, followed by a squealing noise from the sonic, as it protested being dropped.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” Rory peered around the central console, looking concerned.

The Doctor picked up the sonic quickly, trying to brush off his slip-up. “What? No. Fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Amy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Because when someone says ‘fine’ that many times in one sentence, that usually means it’s true. What happened?”

“I had a friend called Rose once, that’s all.” He seemed to be staying at the other side of the console just so he didn’t have to meet their eyes. “Long time ago.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.” Amy said, nothing accusatory in her tone, though she certainly sounded curious.

The Doctor smiled a little, now, in that far off and slightly sad way he did when he was remembering something long since passed. “I don’t always like talking about the people I’ve lost.”

“She sounds special.”

“Oh, she was. Great woman, that Rose Tyler.”

Now, it was Amy’s turn to drop what she was holding.

#thasmin #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #jack harkness #doctor who #madeathing

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peanutbutterworm · 4 years ago

Text

i love you

here we go!! here is my moreid secret santa fic!

click here to read it on AO3

warnings: none, light angst at one point but it is mostly tooth rotting fluff

word count: 4196

summary: Penelope begs and begs Hotch until he finally lets her have a BAU secret santa party. There is a small problem for Dr. Spencer Reid however when he is set the task of giving a gift to his best friend and crush, Derek Morgan.

“Hotch please?” Penelope drew out the last vowel of the word, as if it would make him say yes.

“I told you, Garcia, it’s out of my hands for now. It sounds like a great idea, really, but I don’t think that Strauss nor the director would approve of it.”

“It doesn’t have to be a work thing! Just, as friends, as a family.”

“And I already told you, Garcia, as long as we’re using company time it is a ‘work thing’.”

“God why does everyone have to be so boring. It’s a bonding thing!” Penelope checked the date on her phone. “It’s November 29th, if we’re not allowed to do this I’m going on strike.”

“Mhm,” Hotch was already moving on to something else, and Penelope left in a huff. She ran into Spencer on the way back to her office.

“Hey Penelope,”

“Hi, Spencer.” She said curtly, storming past him.

“Woah, what’s going on today?” Spencer said, stopping her by grabbing her arm. Penelope sighed, realizing she wasn’t being her cheery self and someone was bound to notice, may as well be him.

“Walk with me, boy genius.” Penelope explained her current predicament on the way to her office, huffing and using her hands to talk the entire way.

“And I don’t get why Strauss won’t allow it! It’s a great team bonding activity, and we would have so much fun!” She finished explaining.

“Garcia, we have fun without ‘team bonding activities’, I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Because, I’m tired of being ignored. I just want one of my suggestions to go through and I’m starting to think Strauss doesn’t like me.”

“I’m pretty sure Strauss doesn’t like any of us,” Spencer said, sipping his coffee from a company mug.

“Yeah I know,” Penelope put her head into her hands and sighed. “Why are they so against us having fun?”

“They think it ‘interferes with the job’” Spencer said, quoting a seminar they were forced to go to.

“Yeah, bullshit.” Penelope half scoffed into her hands, half laughed. “How is it going with Derek?” She asked, smirking up at Spencer. Spencer couldn’t help but turn a little red whenever she asked about him. He had told Penelope about his crush on her best friend in September, and even though it had been going on for much longer Spencer was reminded every day why he didn’t tell her sooner. However Spencer never missed a chance to talk to her about it. Even though Penelope was a huge gossip, she would never tell Derek something this important without asking Spencer for permission first. And anyways, it was nice to get stuff off his chest.

“Nothing has really happened, just still lying awake at night thinking about him instead of doing something productive with my chronic insomnia.”

“How can you be productive with chronic insomnia anyways?”

“I don’t know… do things?” Spencer giggled and then paused, recalling something. “Wait, I do recall, I saw him at the grocery store.”

“No way, you two shop at the same place?”

“Unfortunately. I was too awkward to say anything anyways, and I looked like a mess too.”

“I’m sure he didn’t care. This is the man that saw me almost die and I need not remind you that he has seen you in the hospital. Multiple times.”

“I try not to remember.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“You are so boring,”

“It was late, Garcia. I don’t think I had the patience to deal with anyone, including him, and if you were to ask him I’m pretty sure he would say that feeling’s mutual by how he looked.” Spencer sighed. “He was so pretty though. Like sleepy pretty, not the way we see him at work.”

Penelope was just sitting there, sighing.

“What!” Spencer said, playing with a piece of dirt that was caught between his nails.

“Nothing. You are just so, so fucked.”

“I know!” Spencer dropped it and threw his hands to his face. “He’s just so… AH! I feel like a teenage girl.”

“Considering your looks, you might not be far off.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding, but really, you need to tell him. It’s gotta happen eventually.”

“No, I don’t want to ruin our friendship for my own feelings, it’s selfish.”

“Have you ever considered he might feel the same way?” Penelope asked, and Spencer just stared back at her. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“I just haven’t thought about it, of course it’s a probability but the chance that he likes me back is just so low. Did you know the chance of your crush liking you back is-” Spencer was cut off when Derek walked into the room, right into the middle of a conversation he had no idea was about him.

“Thank you for saving me from that,” Penelope said.

“Hotch needs you both at the round table,” was all Derek said, smirking at both of them.

“We’ll be there soon.” Spencer said, staring as Derek left the room. “Do you think he heard any of that?”

“You talk too fast and I wasn’t really keeping up very well, but no, I don’t think he knows it was about him at the very least.”

“Thank god.” Spencer sighed. “Come on, I don’t want to be yelled at by Hotch again.”

“Guess whatttttt!” Penelope said, with everyone mingling around their desks on a chilly December morning, having not been called in on a case yet for the day.

“Did someone die?” Emily asked, taking a headcount of everyone there, all BAU team members accounted for.

“What? No, oh my god Em. Unrelated to death, we get to have a secret santa!” She exclaimed, and everyone's faces lit up with smiles.

“Strauss thinks it would be good for us to bond over the holidays,” Hotch said, cracking a small smile.

“Yeah yeah, anyways write your names on these,” Penelope all handed them a torn piece of paper, “and put it in the magic hat.” She held out a small colorful beret she sometimes wore to work and mixed up all the names that were placed in it. “Now who wants to go first?” She asked, looking around the room eagerly.

“Can I go, Pen?” JJ asked, walking up to the hat.

“Why of course my dear,” Penelope said, dropping into a bow but making sure none of the names spilled out.

This went on for ten minutes until everyone had someone picked out. Penelope then took the last name out of the hat for herself before snugly fitting the hat back onto her head.

Spencer looked at the slip of paper he had gotten, and in all caps was the name Derek . He reminded himself that there was a 1 in 7 chance. A one in SEVEN chance. Maybe the universe just hated him, he mused to himself, trying to keep a poker face while slipping the paper into his pocket. He would tell Penelope about this later, because even though they were supposed to keep it a secret, she would want to know about this.

Derek did the same as everyone and glanced at his small slip of paper but did a double take when he saw the name scrawled on the parchment. Spencer Reid, was all it said in black ink. Great, of course he got his best friend, whom of which he was inconveniently in love with at the moment. He tried to keep his facial expression neutral, as there was a team full of profilers watching and if he even showed the slightest amount of emotion right now, it might give away who he had drawn.

“Now as per the rules of our lovely unit chief, no gifts above $20, and no telling who you got, as it would ruin the game. We will exchange gifts on the 24th and our lovely Rossi has agreed to let us use his home for the gift exchange.” Penelope described the rules, gesturing over to Rossi.

“Not home, mansion” He corrected, smiling.

A few days later, after agonizing over whether or not he should tell Penelope about his crush on Spencer, Derek texts Penelope. Everyone is asleep on the jet home except for Spencer and him. Spencer is reading a book at a million miles an hour, and Derek is on his phone. However every few seconds in between texts he would look up at the doctor, who always looked so peaceful and serene while reading.

New iMessage from: Garcia

You’re kidding me.

Derek smiled at his phone and typed,

No, I’m not. And I got him for secret santa too. I am so fucked, aren’t I?

He finished typing and set his phone on his lap, glancing at Spencer again while waiting for a response. Well, he thought, less of a glance, more of a stare. He zoned out looking at the younger man, memorizing the way his hands ran over the page. Suddenly the doctor looked up, and they looked in the eyes for a moment before they both quickly looked away. He felt a buzz on his chest and feeling grateful to have an excuse to look at something other than him, continued his conversation with Penelope.

Garcia: First of all you weren’t supposed to tell me the secret santa thing, second of all, I can feel you staring at him from here. You are so in love it makes me sick.

Penelope rummaged around her office in Quantico, cleaning up before the team arrived and they all got to go home. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and took it out, Morgan again.

Derek: I know, but I had to tell somebody because I’m going crazy over it. I don’t know what to get him. He deserves something better than some random book.

Garcia: My sweet, I promise you he will love anything you get him.

Derek: You sure?

Garcia: I am sure.

Garcia: And if you don’t go to sleep right now Derek Morgan I will strangle you when you get back.

Derek: Fine fine, we’ll be back in an hour. You should get some rest too, go home.

Garcia: Like hell I’m leaving before you all get back here safely. I’ll wait.

They landed in Quantico about an hour later, and as promised, Derek was asleep for about 30 minutes when the jet landed and jolted everyone awake. They all walked back into the building together, tired as all hell even though most of them got sleep on the plane.

“Hey, kid,” Derek said, walking with Spencer to his desk. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Nope,” Spencer said, packing up his things, avoiding looking Derek in the eye.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, and Spencer froze in his tracks. There were a million things he could’ve said at that moment, but he just continued packing his things after a muttered ‘yea,’. “You know you can talk to me, right?” Derek asked, but Spencer just started thinking about how no, actually he could not talk to him because talking to him about the particular thing he was feeling at the moment would ruin their friendship and Spencer didn’t know if he could take any heartbreak at the moment considering he was tired and about to break down into tears.

“Please, just go to your office, Morgan. I don’t want to talk.” Was all he said, and as Derek walked away a single tear slipped down Spencer’s cheek, which he aggressively rubbed away. The rest of the team was either too busy wrapping up or too tired to notice the distress Spencer was in at the moment.

Derek walked to his office, trying not to burst into tears. When he closed his door he immediately started crying, though. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He hated seeing Spencer in danger, which is exactly where every case put him. And he was always so cold to him, like working with him now was a pain, a formality that must be gone through with. The glance on the plane was a spark of hope before, that maybe Spencer felt the same way, but it was put out by the way he acted earlier. He didn’t know anymore.

He knocked on Penelope’s door, hoping that the technical analyst hadn’t gone home yet. And she hadn't; she was sitting in her chair, knitting when Derek came in. She jumped up, giving him a kiss on the cheek when he arrived.

“God I am so happy to see that you are safe and well and a million other good things.”

“Actually, safe and well might be the only two good things I feel at the moment, Pen.”

“Alright, talk to me. What happened.” She said, moving her way over to sit down with Derek, rubbing his back.

“I don’t know. There was a moment, on the plane, while I was texting you that I thought maybe, maybe he felt the same way but when we got back he was so cold. It was like he was trying to distance himself from me in every way.”

“Ok, well you’re the profiler. Tell me exactly what he said.”

“Babygirl I don’t remember-”

“I think you do.” Penelope said, crossing her arms at him.

“I do. He said, ‘Please, just go to your office, Morgan. I don’t want to talk.’ He sounded sad, and he said please, which means he was probably expecting me to stay.” Derek had a moment of realization before putting his head in his hands. “I should’ve stayed, oh my god I should have-”

“Hey, hey there is nothing you can do now. Deep breaths. And you’re right. Those sound like the words of someone who is trying to push you away for their own good. And I’ve heard them before,” She said, punching Derek softly in the shoulder. “I don’t think he wants you to leave, Der. I think he just needs some time to figure out himself, first.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“I can’t say for sure,” (She definitely could) “But I’d say he does.”

“About the secret santa,”

“Hun, I don’t care that you told me.”

“No, not that. What should I get him?”

“I already told you. He would love a ‘random book’” She did air quotes around what Derek had said over text earlier. “But you should make it special, write a note inside or something.”

“You know what…” Derek started, getting an idea. “I think I will.”

“Great, glad I could be of help. Now if you will excuse me, I have to be back here in 6 hours now, and I would like to go home for at least 4 of those.

“Well don’t let me get in the way.” Derek said, smiling at her and backing out of the office.

Spencer spent the rest of that night overthinking, trying to sleep but only falling unconscious for 3 hours before his blaring alarm woke him up. Did I push him away? He thought to himself, lying awake.

Spencer texted Penelope on his way into work, and even though he wasn’t much of a texting person, he didn’t have the time to make a call right now. All his text said was: I really messed up this time, Garcia. She replied as he was walking into the office, What did you do? Although Penelope, of course, had some inkling of what the young doctor was talking about. They had a few minutes before work officially started for the day, and Hotch hadn’t given them a case yet so he strode directly to Penelope’s office, not bothering to set down anything.

Spencer knocked on the door before coming in, and closed the door before sitting down.

“Alright, so spill.” She said, crossing her legs. Her office was becoming less and less of a technical analysis space and more of a therapist’s couch.

“I pushed him away. I was tired and angry and I pushed him away.”

“Slow down, slow down. I’m sure he didn’t take it that way, all of you were feeling that way last night.”

“No but he seemed angry with me too and I-”

“I can promise you. He probably was angry at first and regretted it, and now he’s thinking the same thing you are. Make an effort today to reach out to him, you’ll be surprised.”

“You sound like JJ reading my horoscope.”

“Maybe I can just see into the future.”

“Yeah right, and anyways that isn’t the end of it. I know I’m not supposed to tell you but I got Derek for the secret santa thing.” Spencer sighed into this coffee that was pressed against his lips, and after taking a sip, said, “I’m starting to really hate you for putting this together, because I have no idea what to give him.”

“Maybe get him something he likes,”

“Yeah, but what does he even like? Music?” Spencer asked, setting his coffee cup on the table beside him. “But I don’t even know what or who he listens to. All I know is he likes music and I feel like I don’t know anything about him right now.”

“Football. He likes football.” Garcia said, also trying to think of things her best friend would enjoy as a present.

“Ok that’s a start, what about football is there…”

“No, no scratch that. Do you know how to make a mix of music on a CD?”

“Garcia, you know I can barely work a printer.”

“I’ll help you. I made his playlist that he listens to on the jet so I know what he likes. All you have to do is give it to him.”

“Wow, thanks Penelope. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t. Say anything that is, just go catch a serial killer and I’ll have it ready by the end of the day.”

As promised, at the end of the day Spencer walked into Penelope’s office and she had a CD ready for him. It was a relatively short case, a local one that had the team home before 8pm. Everyone was in a good mood, but decided to go home early while they had the rare chance.

“Ok here it is, loverboy. Just so you know you can write on it with Sharpie and it won’t mess up the disc.” She winked and handed it to him, Spencer blushing and turning around to make sure no one was at the door.

“Thank you, Penelope. Really.”

“It’s nothing. Thank me when you finally confess your love to that himbo.”

“What’s a-”

“You know what, I’m not explaining that to you. Go home, try and go to sleep early tonight.” She said, pushing him out the door with his new CD. As the door closed in his face, Spencer started to say,

“Have a nice-” But it closed before he could say “-night.” He sighed and walked down the hall, carrying his CD and bag with him towards the elevator. He didn’t expect to see anyone else, but lo and behold Derek Morgan walking towards the elevator at the same time.

“Hey, Reid.” He said, stepping into the elevator with him.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, glancing everywhere but into Derek’s eyes. They were about level, height-wise, and this made it harder for Spencer to avoid his gaze, so he just stared down at the ground.

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just want to know why.” Spencer’s face heated up in shame, and he looked to Derek.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so cold lately. I’ve been having a hard time, but Garcia helped me realize I shouldn’t be shutting people like you who care about me out.”

“Garcia helped you realize-” Derek paused, thinking. “How long have you two been talking?” He asked, curious.

“Pretty much every day since September.”

“Ok ok, I see.” Spencer didn’t question the way Derek asked how long he’d been talking to Garcia, and switched the topic of conversation.

“Four days and counting until the Secret Santa party.” He said, glancing back at Derek.

“Yeah, you excited?”

“Mostly excited to see who mine is.” Spencer said, staring at the elevator doors, which had just opened. “Have a good night,” He said, walking out the doors of the building, rushing towards his car.

“Yeah, you too.” He said, but Derek knew that Spencer was long gone by now. Derek left the building and walked towards his car, starting it and leaving the parking lot as quick as he got here this morning.

The day of the Secret Santa party, Hotch had one case for them. When they got to the round table, everyone was pretty disappointed, because cases often meant that they came back late and in a bad mood. But it turned out that this one was just an hours drive away, and even quicker on the jet, so everyone hopped in, hoping that this wouldn’t take long.

The case only ended up lasting the day, as the killer was sloppy and left behind an extensive trial. The BAU team boarded the jet wondering why they were even called in to help in the first place.

“Hey, at least this means you all can still come over tonight.” Rossi said positively.

“Yeah, everyone’s coming, right?” JJ said, scanning the plane, but no one spoke up. Just nods of heads to confirm that they were all going.

They all took their seperate cars to Rossi’s, with Emily riding with JJ because she left her car at her apartment and took the subway.

When Spencer got there, the house was lit up. Rossi and Hotch had been the first ones to arrive, and shortly after Spencer the rest came filing in the door, joking and laughing with everyone. Spencer caught sight of everyone holding their gifts, wondering which bag or wrapped box was for him. Penelope was the last to come in, taking off her shoes at the door like everyone else and smiling at him with a wrapped present.

“Not for you,” She said, seeing the look on his face “That comes later.”

They all ate good food and talked and drank wine that night, and everything seemed perfect for that moment in time.

“Ok, ok. It is time for the event that we all came here for to take place!” Penelope said, a little wine drunk, standing up and grabbing her present. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, everyone stand up and go find whoever you were assigned. That’s it, good luck.”

They all rose from their seats to go find their assigned person. Spencer just silently waited. He knew he had Morgan, but he wanted to receive his present first and then find Derek because he was a little more… personal, and he didn’t want anyone getting in the way. Just then Derek made his way to him . No, no way is this happening, he thought, terrified and excited at the same time.

“Spencer Reid,” He said, handing the doctor a poorly wrapped present “I believe this is for you.”

“Oh my god,” Reid said, eyes darting between the present and Morgan.

“What?” Derek asked, visibly confused.

“Here. You were who I was assigned.” Spencer said bluntly, shoving the small present towards him.

“What are the odds,” Derek said, and then added as Spencer opened his mouth “please do not actually tell me the odds,” and they both laughed, unwrapping their gifts to each other. Spencer, since he got his gift first, unwrapped it faster and found a book.

“Derek, I love this,” It was a book he had never read before, and from the many books Spencer Reid had read, there weren’t a lot of those left. “Thank you.” He said, looking at him. He thumbed through the pages as the scent of the new book filled the air around them.

“Look at the inside cover.” Derek said, with a hint of shakiness in his voice.

“Only if you look at the CD.” Derek was holding the case in his hands, not taking the disc out itself yet. He was going to listen to it on the car ride home, he had told himself.

“Ok,” Derek wondered what was written on the CD. Probably just a funny playlist name or some fun fact about music, he thought dismissively. At the same time he pulled the disc gently from it’s casing, Spencer opened the cover to the book. In Spencer’s scrawled handwriting, Derek made out the words ‘I love you.’ written in black sharpie on the disc. As Spencer opened the book, he found Derek’s bold lettering on the cover page, saying ‘I love you.’

At the same time, they both looked at each other and came to a realization that this was not platonic. This wasn’t the way friends said they loved each other. And they both realized that the other felt the same way that they had been feeling for months.

“I love you too,” They both said at the same time, both letting out a laugh and realizing what happened.

“My place after this?” Derek asked under his breath.

“Most definitely.” Spencer replied, leaving Derek with a kiss on the cheek to go talk to Penelope.

#moreid #moreid fic #i love them!!#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #derek morgan #tooth rotting fluff.#fluff #light angst

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buckstaposition · 5 years ago

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable.

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami.

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly.

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure."

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day.

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to.

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone.

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you."

"And I'm the asshole..."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted.

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

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it.

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table.

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up.

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist.

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further.

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree.

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for.

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them.

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office.

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña."

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you."

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know."

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another.

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it.

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why me?"

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?"

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead.

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all.

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses.

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón."

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes.

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?"

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded.

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly.

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her.

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it.

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something.

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting.

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly.

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit."

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'.

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

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking.

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel.

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy.

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze.

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage?

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries.

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse.

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that.

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery.

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood.

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal.

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around.

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat.

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to."

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read.

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it.

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something."

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat.

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness.

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band.

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling.

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels.

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?"

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things:

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with.

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all.

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful.

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus.

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints.

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough.

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh.

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation.

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña."

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?"

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

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

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 1 #like gloss tag

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moonice20408 · 5 years ago

Text

The Curious Disappearance of C. Cullen

Word Count: 3818

Read on Ao3 Read on FF.net

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we’re investigating the disappearance of C. Cullen, as part of our new investigation!”

“New investigation?”

“Are vampires real?”

Shane groaned. “Oh no. No no no. Absolutely not. Nope.”

Ryan let out a laugh. “What, you don’t believe in vampires?”

“No Ryan, I do not.” Shane shook his head. “And you know what, I think I might believe in them even less than ghosts!”

“Oh wow.” Ryan laughed again. “Why are vampires so much more unbelievable than ghosts?”

“Because Ryan. They’re stupid! That’s why!” He slammed his hand onto the desk with some force. “If vampires were real, we’d know about it.”

“Well what if it’s like in the movies and they’re all just living in secret?”

“Oh, c’mon. There are cameras everywhere nowadays. You don’t think we’d have caught some guy just munching on another guys neck till he drops dead at some point? Then turn into a bat and fly away.”

“Well you’d just say it was fake if we did.”

Shane paused for a second then shrugged. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Ryan shook his head, then faced the camera. “So, this episode of Supernatural is a going to be a little different.”

“How so Ryan?”

“Well… we’re not going anywhere. There’s no location footage this week guys.”

“Yeah, this week we just thought, ‘you know what, not feeling it.’” Shane relaxed back in his chair. “We’re gonna sit back and take it easy.”

Ryan ignored him. “The reason being, well two reasons actually. One being that, at least I figure, if they were real, vampires aren’t, err… trapped, shall we say, to one place. Therefore, if they were real, they’d still be free to leave a place. So, we’d get there-”

“And we’d be talking to no one.” Shane interrupted.

“Exactly.”

“Imagine that.” Shane continued. “Going to a supernatural hotspot, just talking to the air…”

“Would you-”

“Wouldn’t want that! Would we?” He threw his hands up in the air. Ryan just stared forward, looking into the camera with an unimpressed look. “Wouldn’t we just look dumb! Just yelling into an empty room, expecting a response.”

“Erm, excuse me, we’ve gotten plenty of responses!” Ryan defended.

“Pffft.” Shane waved his hand.

“You know what, I’m just going to continue.” Ryan said matter-of-factly.

“Please.”

“The other reason we’re staying here, is that this case is from England. And we just couldn’t find time that worked for us, as well as crew members to do a quick trip to another country.” Shane nodded with Ryan. “I did look around the location, y’know on Google, and err, it’s just a bunch of offices now, so…”

“Not as exciting as our last trip there.” Both of them shook their heads.

“Now,” Ryan straightened out the file in front of him, before looking to the camera. “I am going to admit, right off the bat…” He quickly peered to Shane. “See what I did there?”

Shane nodded.

“Vampire… Bat…”

“No, I got it Ryan. That was a good one.”

“Thank you.” Ryan smiled while Shane rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I have to admit, I, err… I’m already prepared for some… criticism, shall we say.”

“What, because vampires aren’t real?” Shane said sarcastically.

“No. Well, I guess that’s part of the debate isn’t it?”

Shane sighed and shook his head, looking straight to the camera.

Ryan continued. “What I mean is, that this is case we’re investigating, is one of the oldest cases we will have covered so far on the show.”

“Oh really? Interesting.” Shane said, genuinely intrigued. “What’s the oldest so far? Witch trials right, gotta be.”

“Err, well that’s the oldest full episode, I think. But there’s some of the ancient alien stuff we looked at-”

“Oh right, yeah.”

“But the Salem witch trials were 1690s. But the case today dates back, roughly, to the 1640s.”

“Wow. That’s pretty old Ryan.”

“Yeah, which is part of the problem. Because it’s as old as it is, the erm, documentation of it is… It’s not great.”

Shane let out a small laugh. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve got shit.”

“No! No… It’s just we, meaning our tremendous research team, we’re usually able to get multiple accounts on stuff, and can cross reference information, you know, so we can put together a more valid case.”

“So, you’re telling me, that before the videos even started, this case has no credibility and is crumbling through your fingers as we speak?”

Ryan sighed. “Look, I feel that what we have is defiantly something. I just want to make it clear; it’s just not as backed up as our usual content. You know we try to keep it as honest as we can here. So, I figured, I’d be upfront about this, before people start yelling at me through the comments. Obviously, I’m not going to put together an episode if there’s absolutely nothing, cause that’s… that’s just telling a made-up story off the internet isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Shane nodded. “Okay. Alright. I will reserve my judgement for the end.”

Ryan laughed. “I doubt that, but anyway, let’s get into it.

- - -

“Legends of vampires can be dated back millennia, and stories told of them are found globally. Many ancient cultures had tales centred around the nocturnal undead, reanimated corpses spreading disease to the living, or blood drinking spirits all that hold similar characteristics to the modern idea of what a vampire is.

The idea of blood drinking became very ingrained into the lore of vampires. It was once believed that the blood of a living person, contained that person’s life force, and to drink it would allow another creature to absorb that life force. Some even thought that by drinking a person’s blood, that the drinker would also gain the characteristics of that person, allowing the vampire to better disguise themselves amongst the rest of society.

The word ‘vampire’ itself only came into use in the mid-18th century, from fast spreading tales told in Transylvania, and was later further popularised due to Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula, which was published in 1897. It’s Stoker who is credited for defining the modern vampire, after combining multiple myths together for his book.

In most folklores, vampires were believed to be the revenants of evil beings, or an unrested deceased person who had committed unforgivable sins in their life, but it became a common belief that a living person themselves could become a vampire by being bitten. The belief in some parts of the world became to extensive that it led to mass hysteria, which resulted in many people being sentenced to death, usually by burning.”

- - -

“What’s interesting to me,” Shane started.

“Yeah?”

“Is just how wholeheartedly people, back in the day, believed in this stuff!”

“Yeah. I did come across something, and can I just say, the historical research in this case was very interesting… Like, go look up vampire history guys.” Ryan pointed at the camera. “But anyway, in, err, Greece I think it was, was that after three years, they would dig up dead bodies and they’d be examined.”

“To see if they’d become vampires?”

“Basically.” Ryan nodded. “And if they hadn’t decayed to standard, or whatever, then they’d be ‘dealt with accordingly’” He said, adding air quotations.

“Who decides,” Shane snickered. “Who decides what a suitable decomposition is?” They both laughed. “Were they just like, ‘hmm, no, too much meat left on ‘im’”

“‘toss him in the fire!’” Ryan added.

“‘Into the pit’,” Shane mimicked throwing something over his shoulder. “‘Bring in the next decayed body!’”

“It’s like a line at the doctor’s office.” They both chuckled.

- - -

“Now, back to the case at hand. In early the 1950s, construction workers in London were working to fix up a number of buildings that were destroyed by bombs during World War Two. In one particular location, the damage caused actually led to the discovery of a basement-like room, that had been previously built over, remaining hidden for centuries. Upon further investigation, it was determined that this room was originally part of an Anglican church that was destroyed during the Great Fire in 1666, and was never rebuild.

Inside this room, many historical artefacts were found, but some of the most interesting, at least to me, were a journal and a stack of documents, that belonged to a previous pastor of the church. It is worth noting that the year 1640 is written on the first page of this journal, but it is up for debate for how long this journal was kept. The documents that were recovered, have been since entitled the ‘Crusades of Evil’.

Unfortunately, over time a lot of the writing on these pages has become too faded to accurately read. But enough can be made out to get a good sense of what they’re about. In short, the pastor of the church would lead hunts for all manner of unholy creatures. Almost all of them resulting in the execution of people who were thought to be these creatures. These documents contain the information about the accused, which was essentially just a name and location, if that, as well as what they were accused of doing/being, and the method of execution. Most of the documents found were signed a S.C. Cullen. But, thanks to the journal that was found with these papers, we know that the man in question was named Samuel Cullen.”

- - -

“No middle name?” Shane asked.

“Err, no this guy didn’t write his whole name. Unfortunately.”

“And am I correct in assuming that the unknown ‘C’ initial is perhaps the same as our missing person’s?”

“It is certainly believed that the initials do come from the same name, yes.”

“Interesting…” Shane paused for a moment. “You know… just to switch subjects here,” He huffed a laugh, “And I want this on record, this guy already seems like an asshole… I’m very against the whole idea of burning innocent people to death…”

“Oh good, I’m glad.” Ryan said sarcastically.

“But, I gotta say… Crusades Against Evil! Sounds like a badass movie!”

Ryan chuckled. “To be honest, when I first read that… I did think it sounded like some kind of shooter video game.”

“Oh! Like Doom! You ever play that?” He mimed holding up a gun, and pointing it around the room. “Vampires just popping up, like bangbangbangbangbang!” He ‘aimed’ at Ryan. “Kaboom.”

Ryan just raised his eye brow. “You done?”

“Yeah.” Shane sighed, smiling to himself.

- - -

“Not much is known about Samuel Cullen, other than the fact he was the church pastor during the 1630s and early 1640s at the very least, according to the papers found. And the journal that was found, was unfortunately in an even worse condition than the documents. That being said, one legible section did make reference to a son, and if you were paying attention, you’d have noticed I said most of the documents were signed by Samuel. Some however, were signed C. Cullen. Which has led many conclude that this C. Cullen was the pastor’s son. But when efforts were made to find out more about this man, researchers came up empty handed, and found almost nothing. Not even a first name.”

- - -

“Not even a name?” Shane said loudly.

“I know.”

“So I take it that it was Samuel naming his son after himself?”

“Err, yeah. At least that’s what most people think. Which, honestly, I think is a fair conclusion to make.”

Shane nodded in agreement. “That’s kind of sad, that we’ll never know this guy’s name.” Ryan hummed in agreement, and there was a brief moment of silence. “I bet it was Clive.”

Ryan laughed. “Clive?”

“I dunno man, first name I thought of.” Shane shrugged.

“You thought of Clive before, like, Christopher? A much more common name.”

“Aaa, this is an uncommon guy though, Ryan.”

Ryan shook his head, not commenting.

- - -

“As I said, Samuel seemed to be very enthusiastic about the hunts he led, given the number of documents signed by him. His son however, only seemed to have taken charge in two of these crusades. And if it is to be assumed that the documents were kept in any sort of order, then that would mean, these two accounts from the son were much further apart in time, than that of Samuel’s. It’s also worth mentioning, that C. Cullen’s papers were noticeably longer in length, even if too faded to fully read. But this does suggest the man was, perhaps, more detailed in his telling of what happened, or even maybe had more compelling evidence of what he believed to be a supernatural creature. Researches involved believe the most likely scenario is that Samuel put his son in charge of the church and of the hunts, when he was old enough, as the son’s involvement doesn’t seem to be much later. But that his son was much more hesitant at doing the job at hand. Therefore, leading Samuel to decide to take over once again, possibly to save his own or his family’s reputation.

One document in particular sparked interest, when upon further inspection, it appeared to be written by both Samuel and his son. When comparing the handwriting, it was concluded that it was mostly written by the son. Starting with what seemed to be a description on a group of people living underground. This most likely meaning the sewage system at the time. Bible verses can also be found, such as Leviticus 17:10-14, which quotes ‘And whatsoever man there be of the house of Israel, or of the strangers that sojourn among you, that eateth any manner of blood; I will even set my face against that soul that eateth blood, and will cut him off from among his people.’. But the account of the raid itself, as well as what is assumed to be the execution details, was written, and signed by Samuel. And no evidence of C. Cullen can be found after this point in time.

Which begs the question, what happened during this crusade that meant C. Cullen was unable to complete his own documentation? Was it a conscious decision to leave for good? And, what became of him?

- - -

“See,” Shane started, “I know where you’re going with that that question…”

“Yeah?”

“And I don’t like it…” He sighed.

- - -

“One theory as to why he vanished, is that it during this aforementioned raid, someone fought back against him, and he was killed in self-defence. As mentioned, this attack was written to be on a group of people. Consequently, it seems pretty likely that this group would fight back, given the chance. So perhaps C. Cullen met his match, and ultimate end in this way. Similarly, could it be that he was killed accidentally? Many historians agree that these types of hunts for supernatural beings, would have involved a large number of people. Could it be, that in amidst the chaos and disorder of the crowds, undoubtedly fuelled by fear, that C. Cullen was killed. Perhaps being trampled, or being mistaken for someone else.”

- - -

“Personally,” Ryan started, “I’m not sure I think that’s likely.”

“Of course you don’t, it’s a logical assumption.”

“Oh what, you don’t think, if we were in some crazed mob, I wouldn’t recognise you?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “And I’d just accidentally kill you cause I was so caught up in the madness?”

“Okay one, you couldn’t kill me no matter how hard you tried.” Ryan made a sound to interrupt, but Shane continued before he could. “And two, hysteria does things to people man. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I just think that the leader of this raid, would be the most recognisable person out of everyone there. I imagine they’d have had him up on a little stage while they all crowded round for instructions before they set off. They’d all of had a pretty good look at the guy, and I’m sure he’d have just been a well-known guy at the time. The trampling, or self-defence I could kinda understand, but I can’t see how someone could’ve just like, grabbed him, and I don’t know, beat him to death or whatever.”

Shane just shrugged.

“Plus, again, he’s probably the most relevant person there.” Ryan added. “So, you’d like to think someone would have noticed his death and there’d be evidence of that.”

“It’s the 1600s, Ryan! What kind of evidence do you want? It’s not like they were running round taking photos or anything.”

“Well, there could be some sort of documentation of it. Newspaper article perhaps?” Ryan suggested.

“I don’t think many newspapers would’ve survived that long… Were newspapers even a thing at this point?”

“You know, honestly I don’t know.”

“And this is the 1600s, how many people were reading?”

“Hmm…” Ryan sighed. “Okay, you got me with that one.”

- - -

“The most commonly accepted theory is that C. Cullen simply ran away. As I said, it is widely believed that he was more hesitant about conducting these crusades in the first place, so is it possible that he used the attack as a cover to escape? Many believe so. Perhaps being in charge of the crusade in question granted him more protection in the event, and perhaps he wasn’t involved in the attack at all. He was simply waiting for news on whether it was successful or not. Is it possible that he hung back, and made his escape while the crowds fought without him? And that no one realised he was gone until afterwards. That being said, some have their doubts about this. Afterall, if C. Cullen was indeed so much more humane than his father, would he really cause an attack on other people, just for his own benefit? And would he be one to watch from the side-lines, while others risked their own life?”

- - -

“Okay…” Shane said.

“What?”

“I mean, obviously, I don’t believe for a second that there were actually vampires involved in any of this… But back in the day, people did quite truly believe that they were real. So, I can’t imagine it would have been difficult to get a crowd all riled up, and then send them off. Especially if the leader of it all also truly believed in the… in the cause, I guess. And I think, that if this guy did use the attack as a cover, and if he was as good of a person as everyone thinks, then he at least thought they were really vampires.”

“That’s fair.” Ryan agreed. “And if you think about it, bible verses were only found in his accounts. So that leads me to think that he at least had like, I dunno, God in mind or whatever.”

“It’s kinda strange to, like, imagine yourself living like that. If you’re taking the bible that seriously, and know it well enough to quote like that, it’s gonna be hard, cause it has a lot of contrasting points. I mean, I can’t say I’ve read the bible, but just from what I’ve seen online. It seems like it’s a bit all over the place!”

“Oh yeah, I agree. I mean, this quote again,” Ryan shuffled through his papers, “I will even set my face against that soul that eateth blood, and will cut him off from among his people’. I can understand that perhaps that could be interpreted to mean killing vampires is okay… But then in the same book you have ‘thou shall not kill’.”

“You know Ryan, I like it when we argee on this stuff.”

Ryan laughed. “Well, we’ll see what you’re saying after this last theory.”

Shane let out a loud sign.

- - -

“I’m sure you all can guess what this final theory is. But some people actually entertain the idea that C. Cullen was correct in his quest. And that he truly found a coven of vampires living underground in London. He was attacked, and transformed into a vampire himself, and he is still out there today.”

- - -

Shane let out a long and loud groan. Leaning back on his chair, and covering his eyes with his hands.

Ryan giggled. “What, you don’t like this one?”

“No.” Shane replied in pained voice.

“Well you’ll be glad to know, neither do I.”

“Oh really. I’d of thought this one was right up your street.”

“What? You seriously think I’d believe in vampires?”

Shane shook his head. “You are so genuinely terrified of ghosts, it’s really not so outlandish to think you’d believe in anything like this.”

“No, no. I’m gonna put vampires in the same category as I put witches. I think a lot of innocent people were unnecessarily killed. And in all honestly, I think Samuel Cullen here, knew what he was doing. I think it was a case of him wanting to maintain a reputation, and as with the second theory, his son just took off and left to live an honest life somewhere.” Ryan nodded.

“I dunno…”

Ryan exaggerated a gasp. “Do you think it was vampires?” He laughed.

Shane chuckled. “Absolutely not. But I mean, I’ll put the whole vampire thing down to mass hysteria, you know, like those people in France!”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I was so desperately trying to avoid you bringing that up.” He muttered.

“They danced till they died Ryan!” He looked to the camera. “Look it up! Anyway… Mass hysteria, plus, like I think I said this about the witches, but, general boredom can cause a lot of crazy behaviour. But with this C. Cullen guy… he probably just died. It’s not like they were medically advanced. People would get some sort of disease and the local doctor would give them cocaine or some shit. And it’s just a case of crappy documentation.”

Ryan laughed. “You don’t think he managed to get away and just move somewhere else? Probably chance his name?”

“I mean, that’s a possibility.”

“I just… I think there’s something just not sitting well with me, that this guys own father, never seems to mention a death. And that he just seemed to vanish and no one noticed.”

“Well maybe he did mention it, it’s just part of the journal that was unreadable.”

“Maybe…” Ryan said, unsatisfied.

“I guess we’ll never know…”

Ryan sighed. “I hate it when you say that.”

“I know…” Shane nodded, chuckling slightly. “I’m not gonna lose any sleep over it. It was four hundred years ago, he’s defiantly dead now anyway.”

Ryan nodded and hummed. “Well on that note!” The two laughed. “Hey, do you think if a vampire died, that it could still become a ghost?”

“Okay…” Shane stood up and walked off camera.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you!”

“It was just a question.”

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think!

#Twilight #carlisle cullen #fanfic #op #twilight fanfiction #Carlisle Cullen fanfiction #Carlisle fanfiction #buzzfeed unsolved #the cullens #we really be out here in 2020 writing twilight fanfic huh?#own fic

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vivithefolle · 5 years ago

Note

Have you read endrina's "The Secret Language of Plants" series on AO3? It is so good and so long and it does some really amazing stuff with Ron. With all characters really, except for the Death Eaters and Voldemort (and a little bit of Dumbledore) this author creates the best versions of these characters that JKR *wishes* she had been well rounded and clever and emotionally honest enough to write. "The Meaning of Mistletoe" is the first one. Its a full canon rewrite. All 7 books are covered!

I am very torn.

On the one hand it contains Drarry and Snupin and Geormione and I hate those.

On the other hand... the Ron-appreciation is fan-freaking-tastic.

Find it here.

Ah of course it’s somewhat a “Severus Snape mentors Harry Potter”, so we get those:

Severus had a tell. His face would be impassive, his voice perfectly even and smooth and devoid of all inflection. But if he found something funny, his left hand would twitch and he would close his fist instead of laughing. Harry was probably the only person who knew (maybe Remus did, he didn’t know). Twice, Severus had found one of Ron’s comments funny.

I gotta admit I have a soft spot for the Ron&Snape BROTP, AVPM has a way of making you appreciate it

“He has a… a permanent poker face” whispered Hermione as Severus waved Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, in the direction of the lake.

“You just have to learn how to read him” explained Harry while petting Buckbeak’ head to keep him quiet. “I know for a fact that he finds Ron very funny.”

“Funny?” Ron was having a day full of affronts. “He has given me more detentions than McGonagall ever has.”

(Not true. It was a tie).

How the Yule Ball ought to have gone - minus the gross Drarry shit:

Harry’s robes had belonged to three different witches of various tastes and body types before being purchased by Mrs. Weasley and adapted to be Ron’s formal outfit.

The next step had been very simple. Ron still cared about what other people thought. Harry did not. He really, really, did not. They traded. Ron resisted at first, because it was the polite thing to do, but once Harry got ahold of the dress and started to jump on the bed saying “mine, mine, mine” he accepted the exchange.

His smile had been so soft and wondering, as if Harry had given him the world. Harry felt as if he were trespassing on some religious ceremony, so grateful Ron looked, so easy it had been to make him happy.

Harry’s robes were green, to bring out his eyes. The colour also went very well with Ron’s hair and he looked quite fine. Not as elegant as Draco, for sure, but certainly one of the handsomest students in the ball

[...]

Harry could honestly say that he loved his new dress robes. Specially the cuffs. Oh, the glorious cuffs with three layers of lace. Harry could say that he loved the robes in all their frilly magnificence, but that wouldn’t be completely truthful because what he loved was the effect he had on people.

Headcanon accepted:

“Honestly, I don’t know why are you all acting so surprised.” He said to a variedly pink audience. Seamus Finnigan looked as if he had measles. “They are my brothers, you know. I had to grow up with them. And I am friends with Harry.”

Ron, like Percy, was easily overshadowed by the more explosive and flashy performances of his siblings. Ginny in particular, with her choleric character and her excellent jinxes, came on top of Ron. But Ron was not the runt of the group, not at all. Ron had slowly and painstakingly come to master a subtle non-verbal almost motionless magic, ever since his first year of school when he smuggled his wand to use during punishments. You would not see Ron cast anything, but he was, all the time. All. The. Time. Like someone compulsively pressing the save button on a computer. This was Ron, only with magic, defensive magic. It was now past conscious habit and it had become a tic.

Look, his brothers turned his favourite teddy bear into a spider, when he was on his second year a teacher tried to obliviate him, and the next year he was mauled by an over-enthusiastic Black (“so sorry, Ronald. Do you want a broom? I will get you a broom. Or better yet, a flying motorbike. I am sure you will look great in leather”). Note that he very generously was leaving the first year out, because it was the one time in Ron’s life when he actually went looking for trouble. Every other time the trouble came to find him.

It was only natural, given that he lived in a magical household where he could practice magic during the summers, that he would practice all the protective spells he could learn. He lived with Ginny, too, in case people had forgotten that. It was mere survival instinct on his part.

(Oddly, Percy had been quite helpful. He gave him tips and let him borrow his notes).

By the time he was starting his fourth year, it wasn't that Ron could cast protego in his sleep, it’s that he did. Constantly and absentmindedly. On himself, on Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna (for heaven’s sake that girl was too fragile, someone should look after her). Really, he was casting protego on everyone all the time.

MY BABIES MY UNAPPRECIATED BABIES

Percy was not his dad, he did not share his fascination with muggle ingenuity, but he did pay attention to his father. More than any of his brothers, actually, not that it was ever appreciated. Percy was never appreciated. (Not a complaint, just a statement. At the moment that lack of appreciation was what allowed him to work unnoticed. Hooray for ignored middle children).

(Side note: He should check with Ron, because Ronald was also very much a middle child like him and it occurred to Percy now that his little brother might be sitting on some big secrets of his own.)

Even though this fic went with the “Draco is second best to Hermione in class” cliché and I hate it it does get some things right:

Hermione wasn’t very good with emotions, hers or anyone else’s. She had always exhibited more awareness than Ron, it’s true, but that was more due to Ron having a philosophical acceptance of life than to any particular sensitivity on Hermione’s part. She was not very good with emotions because emotions clouded judgement and Hermione put all her might in her razor sharp mind. This is something that she understood very well.

This is why that morning, after breakfast, she had unfolded a piece of parchment on the table (sadly there were only two notebooks in the house and they were mostly full) and had announced, with great assuredness, that Voldemort must had been and still be very scared.

We love a Minerva that appreciates her chess lion

Minerva had put a swift end to the competition for Most Mischievous Student Ever by naming Potter (Harry) and Weasley (Ron) the ultimate and unsurpassable winners. (“I mean it, don’t even think about trying to take their place, unsurpassable I said.”)

She stood by her judgement because Harry was giving her headaches even in absentia and although Ronald grumbled a little bit that “he didn’t do nothing” there was not much force behind it. Minerva didn’t know exactly what Ronald had done or not done, but she would glare at him as if she knew and the boy looked guilty enough.

At this point, she wouldn’t even be that surprised if he turned out to be an animagus too. He had kept quiet about Severus’ involvement with Harry and he casted protegos nonverbally, so who knew what else he could do.

Ron’s Patronus is the best Patronus and this is canon

Ron was good, had always been good. When asked, because the quality and endurance of his patronus was amazing, he said he just had to think of that pigeon message that told him that his friend was alive and that was enough.

[SPOILER ALERT]

And Ron fucking killing Voldemort is like... *chief’s kiss*

Ron had grown as a young child in a big family. Not even the youngest which is a position of honour in a certain way and often featured prominently in fairy tales. No, he was the one just before, young but not the youngest. There were so many brilliant brothers before him that he knew he would never get to have an “-est” for him. Not the brightest or the funniest or the bravest.

Ron had gone through a process of acceptance in life. By the time he came to Hogwarts he had known and accepted that if he didn’t manage to do something magnificent and astonishing, he would be a bit of an embarrassment for the family. The runt, the one who did nothing remarkable. But even if he achieved a wonderful feat he would still be following the steps of his brothers and so it would not be something extraordinary. He could not win either way and he had accepted that.

By the time he was in his fourth year he had come to accept that his best friend, Harry Potter, was too much of a good person to resent him for all the attention he got and that Ron craved. During that year with the stupid trials Ron had come to accept that he would always be overshadowed by his brothers and friends. Talented Bill and Charlie and even Percy and his good grades, funny twins, clever Hermione, and lastly Harry who was very odd but still the Boy Who Lived. Ron was none of that and it was a bit like drinking black tea with no sugar, it wasn’t nice but he could take it and he could still care about all of them.

Ron had accepted a life of being the runt, the spare, the disappointment. Not even the black sheep of the family, not even that because Percy of all people beat him to it. Ron would be the grey dull brother, not so bad to be the outcast, not so good to be someone for himself. He had accepted it because at that moment making sure all the people he loved were safe was way more important than Ron’s sense of self-worth.

He had accepted it.

Perhaps this is not clear. He had accepted it. He was resigned to a lacklustre life, to becoming an insipid note in everyone else’s lives’ accounts. Ron Weasley, brother of the founders of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ron Weasley, older brother of record holder Quidditch player Ginevra Weasley. Ron Weasley, brother of William the curse-breaker and Charles the dragon-tamer. Ron Weasley, friend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Never in his wildest dreams and fantasies in which he got all the recognition and awards, never, had Ron thought he would become Ron Weasley the One Who Slayed Voldemort.

#ask #vivi answers #hp fanfic recs #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad

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nekoannie-chan · 5 years ago

Text

The place where we met

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word count: 1668 words

Summary: You met the love of your life in the place you least expected, how important will that place become throughout your love story?

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my entry to the @omnomsauruswrites ‘s Omnom 1.1K Writing Challenge Celebration with the prompt:

"Tokyo"

I’m sorry, it took me so long, I was busy with some Ph.D. stuff.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Steve remembers the place where you met, it was shortly after the attack on New York, and had a mission in Tokyo, Japan, however, it was going a little wrong, civilians were being threatened and there were already a considerable number of wounded; one of the enemies held you as a hostage, however, Steve had managed that nothing bad happened to you.

He had saved you, in gratitude, you invited him to a cafeteria, where they began to talk, you told him that you were in that country because it was where your grandmother was born as well as lived almost her whole life and as you were on vacation you go to visit her like when you were a child. You were surprised when he told you about the New York attack, in fact, you lived in New York and you gave him your address in case one day he wanted to visit you.

Shortly after you returned from your vacation, Steve and you started dating, a few weeks later he was finally encouraged to ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D occurs. You found it out from the news, that explained why you had not received any call or message from Steve, you were worried, the preliminary information was that he has died, you could not believe it, you did not want to believe it, within a few hours you received a call from someone who did not You knew in person, although your boyfriend had told you about him.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Maria asked

“It's me… how bad is it?” you questioned, worry growing every second... "Not too bad, he'll survive but I think it's better if you were here, it was a very intense day and he will need you," Maria informed you.

"I'll take the first flight," you replied.

When you arrived at the hospital, you asked for Hill, she indicated to you where your boyfriend was and authorized that you could enter to see him when you entered the room Steve had already woken up.

“Excuse me, who are you?” Sam asked when he saw you.

"Okay, I know her," Steve replied before you could say anything.

Sam looked to you from Steve and vice versa several times, suddenly he understood what was happening.

"I'll leave you alone, I think you have a lot to talk about," he said before leaving.

"Thank you," you murmured.

Steve told you everything that had happened, in the end, you were hugging him tightly, you were afraid of losing him even if he assured you that he was fine.

Both had agreed to keep the relationship as a secret after everything that happened, he was afraid that HYDRA would go for you and take you away from him if they knew about your existence and his team ... He didn't want anyone to bother you or make fool of you, therefore the only one who knew about your existence was Sam but Steve always refused to tell him any details of the relationship.

The following year he asked you to marry, he was completely sure that you were the love of his life and you thought the same about him. You also planned to get married in secret, you had no family and your friends or at least you thought they were your friends many years ago they had betrayed you and since then you stopped talking to them, Steve for his part had a bad feeling, so they avoided making a Great celebration or public

When the problems with the Sokovia Agreements began, he immediately told you to ask you to leave the country and take refuge in your grandmother's house, he knew that if you stayed there and he continued to refuse to sign, the authorities would go for you and you would be their hostage to make him to do what they wanted and not what he thought was right. He also told you that as soon as things calm down or escape, he would reach you.

Several weeks later you met him again but he was not alone, Bucky accompanied him, Steve wanted you to meet his best friend, so Bucky and the old woman who lived in the house next door and had been the best friend of your grandmother were her only guests at her wedding after this Bucky returned to Wakanda.

The old woman knew you all her life, so she also considered you her granddaughter, since her family had practically abandoned her, they never visited her, so you and Steve chose to consider her part of the family, of course, she knew the identity of Steve but they trusted her because he would never give them away.

When he had free time you walked through the streets of Tokyo and used to avoid the most tourist sites to avoid being recognized, and loved to go down the streets, enter the sanctuaries and enjoy the sweets.

That night was her first wedding anniversary, with the help of the neighbor you prepared a very special dinner, you had very important news to your husband. The dinner was going perfectly everything was very romantic, you decided it was time to tell him the news

“Stevie ...” you felt too nervous.

He looked up when he noticed the nervousness of your voice, for a moment he feared you were going to give him the bad news.

"What's up doll?” he asked

"I have news to give you," you began to say.

Now he thought that everything between you and him was over, maybe you had been already tired of the situation and would like to be with someone who was not a fugitive.

"I'm pregnant," you finally let go.

"Are we going to be parents?" he asked surprised.

You nodded, his expression brightened, he was now completely happy, he had never thought that was what you were going to say.

“How much time?” he asked

"Two months," you said.

He hugged you carefully, he didn't want to hurt you, he felt like he was the happiest man in the world. He filled your face with kisses, now he would do everything to protect that little ting being growing inside you.

Finally, it was time for delivery, you gave birth to a very healthy girl, and happiness did not fit Steve. You decided to call her Sarah.

Although he continued to frequent Sam, Natasha and other members of his team, he never told them anything about you, the only one he knew was Bucky even though he didn't know little Sarah in person, but he knew her through photos that Steve show him.

Months later, while you were sleeping, Steve's cell phone rang, Tony's name appeared on the screen, Bruce told him what had happened and that they needed his help to deal with Thanos.

“What happened?” you asked sleepily.

"They need me," he replied.

"Is it serious?" if it was nothing important, perhaps I could ignore it.

"So it seems, I have to go," he confirmed.

"Try to get back safely, we need you,” you asked.

“I love you”

“I love you more”

The baby did not stop crying, you carried her, she was not hungry or needed a change, and rather what she wanted was her dad

"Dad is saving the world, he does this for you," you told the little girl.

You gave her favorite teddy, of course, it was one that Steve had given her, with that she calmed down, you put her in her pen and you sat on the armchair in the living room and you had a bad feeling, while you were afraid of never seeing your husband again.

After a while, you started to feel as if your limbs were falling asleep, you didn't understand what was going on, then everything went dark.

Thanos had achieved his goal, the only thing that went through Steve's mind was the question of whether something had happened to you, you also been victims? A few hours later he returned home, opened the door, started calling you, there was no answer, he entered the room, the only thing he found was his daughter asleep in the corral, there was no trace of you, he took the baby very carefully so as not to wake her up and that was when he discovered that part of his fear was had come true, tears began to fall down his cheeks when he discovered on the couch the pile of dust, he deduced that it was you.

“Y/N? Steve? ” the neighbor called.

"Here I am," he replied.

“What's going on?” she asked, she didn't understand what was happening either.

"We lost ..." was the only thing he managed to answer.

"Y/N too ...?" He couldn't finish the sentence.

Steve nodded.

"Take Sarah to a safe place, I'll take care of the house, don't worry,” she offered.

Steve accepted and thanked the lady, left Sarah with her for a moment to prepare a suitcase with some things she would need for the trip that awaited them, she put clothes and some toys

He took his daughter, he would go to the old Avengers base that was where everyone had met, he had to discuss what they would do and how things would be resolved and Steve also knew that he would need help with his daughter.

Steve entered the place, Sarah saw everything and hugged her dad tight, and she looked scared.

“And that baby?” Nat asked when he saw her

"She is my daughter," Steve replied.

“Did you get married?” Thor asked stunned.

Everyone looked surprised, they didn't understand the reason Steve had hidden it.

"And your daughter's mother?" Natasha asked.

It seemed odd that he didn't come with her too, maybe if the girl saw her mother she wouldn't be so scared.

Steve shook his head, everyone understood, he had also been a victim of Thanos and Natasha took Sarah's arms.

"We'll fix this for her," Nat said.

#omnomwritingchallenge1.1k #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers fic

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lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer · 5 years ago

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My Favourite MLB Fanfics

I’ve put links to the Author’s AO3 accounts, not their Tumblr accounts.

Chasing The C/h/atwalk by Inkkerfuffle

Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.

This is probably the fanfic I've read the most. I always enjoy it and if I'm looking for something to read this fanfic is usually it. I absolutely love it to bits, and I know that if you read it you'll absolutely love it too!

Tangled Ribbons by demistories

Marinette is a small studio dancer who wins a scholarship to a summer long ballet intensive. Adrien is a famous ballet dancer who would rather be at home than at said intensive. The end of the summer will bring about a showcase that could make Marinette's career, if she can ignore Chloé and focus on something other than Adrien.

Sore muscles, coffee breaks, and video chats ensue. And there is an awful lot of fondue

I don't think I can quite put into words what this one made me feel. For one, it took me back to the days I used to do ballet. It's also incredibly well-written by an author who absolutely knows their stuff and I absolutely adore it. I implore you to read it!

From The Ashes by MiniMinou

As fire spreads across Paris, Adrien Agreste decides to return from the exile his father’s death drove him to. Six years can put a lot of strain on old friendships, but he’s determined to set right what once went wrong.

So why is the black cat being so cold to his Lady?

New heroes are chosen, secret identities are revealed, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Rational Adult, manages to fall in love with her teenage crush a second time. It's not her fault! How is she supposed to resist the stray who has somehow learned how to flirt?

Also, he keeps licking her.

This was the first MLB fic that I ever read and oh my God is it worth reading. From the absolute beginning, it had me completely awestruck with the way the author writes and the storyline is completely magnificent. I cannot recommend this fic more!

You Don’t Know Me by Ferisae

When Ladybug suffers a near-fatal accident and is presumed dead, it is up to Adrien - who has discovered Ladybug's secret - to help her through her painstaking recovery and reacquaint her with herself. All this while trying to save Paris on his own without losing himself in the process.

This fic. THIS FIC. It pulled at my heartstrings stronger than any Celine Dion song, broke my heart in all the right places and patched it right back up again. Just fucking read it. Heartbreaking, beautiful, absolutely magnificent.

Le Chat Noir by ParadiseAvenger

Le Chat Noir was the most popular strip club in Paris. Marinette could explain how she wound up there the first time, but she couldn't explain how she kept coming back.

Good lord, where do I start with this one? It is a roller coaster of emotions and will leave you feeling slightly breathless but laughing harder than you ever have before. Also, Alya is fucking magnificent in this one. Read it. Please. Read it. Now.

Over The Wall by imthepunchlord

The accident, while unintentional, was costly. For her wrongdoings against Chloe, Marinette is sent over the wall to die. But instead of death, she winds up in a strange, unnerving world. Good thing she'll have a cat to watch her back in this bizarre place.

This fic is one of my favourite tropes, with its fantasy and magic. It had me laughing all the way through, except for a couple of moments where it left me in tears. When I read this, I was feeling really low and it brightened my evening. The writing is beautiful, the worldbuilding is beautiful, and I love the way Felix is written. For the love of Plagg, read this fic.

Obsession by KryallaOrchid

Miraculous has unintended side effects. A chance encounter leaves Chat Noir in Marinette's magic hands. Scritch and scratch, this kitty has needs. MariChat.

This was the second or third fic I ever read and my goodness did it make me into a total Marichat lover. The main trope that runs through is executed perfectly, and there’s an entire fucking series! The writing is absolutely beautiful, the storyline is amazing and I am in absolute adoration of everything.

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladrien #adrinette #marichat #miraculous ladybug fic recs #these are some of my favourites #but there's no way I could fit them all on #fic recs #here's a bit of everything

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schrijverr · 6 years ago

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Did you say that!

Peter and Ned start een Inccorect Avengers Quotes account. They mend the Avengers along the way

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been Neds idea, Peter swore. He had been telling him about a stupid conversation he heard between Bruce and Tony when Ned had said: “The whole world should know this happened.”

“Yeah, like anyone will believe this shit.” Peter had replied.

Then a mischievous look appeared on Neds face as he said: “They will if it’s posted on an incorrect quotes account.”

Peter looked at him for a second before a matching grin appeared.

A few minutes later:

@incorrectAvengers

[labs]

Tony Stark: That shouldn’t make sense.

Bruce Banner: Of course it shouldn’t make sense, I said it.

Tony Stark, distressed: That’s not how physics work, right?

Bruce Banner, panicky: I don’t know.

That was now three weeks ago.

They had already gained ten thousand followers and they were verified. The boys were ecstatic, this was one of the best things ever. Every time Peter stayed over at the Compound he came back with a gold mine of new material, this only increased after the Rogue Avengers came back.

@incorrectAvngers

[common room]

muffled sound from the vents

Scarlet Witch: Does anyone else hear that?

Black Window, not looking up from her tablet: You mean Clint? Yeah, I think he’s been stuck there for a few hours now.

Hawkeye muffled: Can you please help me now. Nat, I beg you.

Scarlet Witch: ...

Black Window, looking at her watch: Oh, seems it’s time to leave this room again, come one Wanda, lets go.

Screaming from the vents

@incorrectAvengers

Captain America: What is that?

Spider-man, hastily putting his phone away to hide Captain America PSA memes: Oh, nothing. You know, memes and stuff.

Captain America, nodding as if he’s in on a secret and knows exactly what’s going on: Of course, memes and stuff.

It was all going good, suspiciously good. But the two boys ignored how good it was going in favor of basking in their Internet fame. They’d now had the account for two months and their following was through the roof, but all good things must come to an end.

It was in a meeting with all the Avengers when it came crashing down. They were just wrapping up a report on the latest mission and what they could improve when Ant-man AKA Scott said: “Uhm, this may be nothing, but I thought I’d point it out. There’s this twitter account @incorrectAvengers and they post these post about us, nothing harmful, but it’s all scarily accurate, like the person behind it could hear us.”

He showed them one of the top post, which Peter was quite proud of.

@incorrectAvengers

Tony Stark: I am a badass, a suave man and you can’t stop me.

Ms. Potts: Tony get down from the table and put on some jeans. You cried yesterday over trees and you haven’t slept in three days, so I would advise against doing a press conference about trees right now.

Tony Stark, tears forming: But do trees know how important they are, Pep. Do you think they’ll ever know?

Tony read it and quickly looked away to avoid the looks. He only said: “I stand by my point about trees. Some people sighed, but Steve frowned as he read some more and said: “We said all these things in private, in a high security facility or in battle. This person knows more than this, this could be dangerous. Listen this was while fighting aliens:

@incorrectAvengers

[while fighting]

Hawkeye: Is that a pizza joint?

Falcon: You’re holding alien guts, how are you hungry?

Hawkeye: What can I say, I’m a walking hungry disaster. Ask Nat.

Black Widow, swooping by on the back of an alien: He is.”

Peter chocked on his spit and started coughing loudly. Everyone looked at him and he quickly straightened up and said: “I don’t know, Mr. Captain America, sir. They didn’t share anything incriminating and it does wonders for your PR, especially after the Accords.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow and him and he knew the older man knew. He thought, well there goes my life, goodbye cruel world. But he was proven wrong when Tony said: “The kid is right. I already knew it existed, but I never felt the need to point it out. We re-tweeted some of their stuff on the official Avengers Twitter page and people responded very good. We shouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.”

They still looked like they wanted to disagree, but Bucky was surprisingly enough the one who diffused the situation. He said: “If Tony thinks this can do no harm, I believe him.”

Everyone looked at him with a disbelieving look, even Peter and Tony. Bucky saw their looks and shrugged: “Besides, now that I know this is real, this is practically a black mail/teasing gold mine.”

Suddenly everyone was grinning and Peter had never been so proud of his work. When he told Ned later, the other boy almost had a heart attack.

After that @incorrectAvengers gained a bunch of superhero followers and they could often be seen roasting each other over the tweets. Under the pretense that it was 100% something that the other could have said. The world loved it and in no time their approval ratings were through the roof.

Ned and Peter refreshed the page and high-fived. They had started to have some fun, but they had mended the Avengers in the process. Life was good.

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heller-a-good-time · 5 years ago

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The One With The Horkos Curse

(Some Destiel Fluff)

(I don’t know jack shit about Greek mythology, this is me trying my best so bear with me.)

(Also until I can request an AO3 account, this is how I’m gonna post my stuff)

This was supposed to be an easy mission. A milk run.

Rowena had asked them to collect some rare herbs from a witch’s lair before giving them some vague answer as to why she couldn’t do it herself. She, of course, then reminded them that they “owed her one” after she had helped save Dean from losing his memory, as well as, his life a few weeks ago.

Originally, Rowena had asked just Sam to do it, but after several minutes of bickering, Dean convinced him to let him tag along. And because both of the brothers made the mistake of talking about the mission while Cas was within earshot, he also requested to come.

Dean hadn’t even bothered to fight him on it. He knew he always struggled to say no to Cas, no matter what it was. Anytime he gave him that famous pleading look of his, Dean would cave.

So, there they were, standing in the middle of a witches lair, hoping the witch would be gone for quite awhile while they snagged the item they needed. Rowena had given them a very specific run-down of how to break inside without triggering any alarms or traps. She also tried to make another thing incredibly clear to them.

Don’t touch anything but the herbs.

So, imagine the surprise on Castiel and Sam’s faces when they turned around from grabbing their desired ingredient off one of the shelves and saw Dean holding a small orb between his fingers, examining it with curiosity.

Cas watched him for a moment, partially due to pure shock at Dean’s utter stupidity, but also in awe of how delicate his features appeared to be as his face softened while staring at a ball that was colored a familiar shade of emerald that resembled Dean’s eyes.

For once, his eyebrows weren’t furrowed, his upper lip wasn’t stiff, and his eyes were wide with a hint of child-like wonder. Cas swore he hadn’t seen Dean that relaxed in months--hell, maybe a year. But, it only lasted for a few seconds because Cas then snapped himself out of his trance and harshly smacked the orb out of Dean’s hand.

Dean flinched in surprise and Castiel immediately noticed his features reverting back to their usual ways as he made eye contact with him. Cas almost felt bad for disturbing his few seconds of peace.

“Cas, what the he-”

“Rowena specifically told us not to touch anything else.” Sam budded in and then scoffed while tilting his head to the side, “Do you listen to anything we tell you?”

Dean’s hands fiddled with the sleeves of his green jacket as he replied, “No, not really. Most of the time I just zone out when you start talking and then later on during hunts I try to wing it so I don’t have to admit I wasn’t paying attention.” His hands suddenly froze and he looked up at the other two men who were now raising their eyebrows at him. A slight look of confusion and fear washed over his face, “Why’d I just say that?”

Cas sighed and bent down to pick up the small orb. As he stood up straight again, he rolled the object between his thumb and index finger before placing it back on one of the shelves that surrounded them. Cas had immediately recognized what it was when examining it closer and knew what effect it was going to inevitably have on Dean.

When he turned back around he noticed both of the Winchester’s staring at him.

“Well Cas, are you just going to stand there looking all pretty as always or are you going to tell us what the hell that is.” Dean pointed at him and took a step closer in his direction. His brain then registered what he just said and he appeared to be absolutely mortified.

He had never willingly admitted anything like that to Cas before. His feelings for him were always the thing he tried to suppress the most. But now, he just blurted out a compliment about the angel’s appearance like it was nothing.

Pretty as always.

This caused Cas’s cheeks to warm and his words to stammer while leaving his lips, “I-It’s the Horkos orb.”

Dean continued to give Cas a confused look as if he hadn’t answered his question at all. Sam on the other hand, was starting to get a sense of what he said, “Horkos?Like Greek Mythology Horkos?”

Cas faced the younger Winchester’s direction as he tried to ignore Dean’s previous comment still buzzing around in his head, “Yes. He was a personified spirit that would punish liars. That orb was one of his many cursed weapons left behind. Heaven had been looking for it’s location awhile back but they had been unsuccessful at finding it.”

Before Sam could reply, Dean muttered something under his breath, “Nerds.” He then tried to pull his lips tightly together but words still spilled out of his mouth, “I tease but it’s really because I’m jealous that I’m not as smart as you guys.” His hands balled into fists as he clutched his hair in frustration, “God dammit, why am I saying things you aren’t supposed to know?”

“The orb. It punishes liars. It causes you to say your deepest secrets.” Cas gave him a more simple answer.

That’s when Dean officially lost it. He began to pace and grab at his hair even harder, his stoic exterior that he typically kept in tact during hunts had diminished. There were so many “deep” secrets that he’d kept buried over the years, it practically came with the whole hunting gig. He began thinking of all the things he was hiding. So many secret thoughts Sam and Cas—mostly Cas, had no right to hear. Secret thoughts like, “How come Sam doesn’t have to deal with half of this kind of shit, huh? Dean gets to lose his memory and almost die, Dean gets to have a shapeshifter wear his mug and be practically banned from all of St.Louis, Dean gets to have the disease that makes him scared of everything under the sun.....What is it about me? Is it that I’m not as handsome or smart or charming as Sam? Is it because I’m not tall enough? Is it-” Dean could finally regain control over his endless rambling. He was able to stop himself from talking just before the thing he was most terrified to say came out.

Is it because the universe is punishing me for liking guys?

Cas gave him a long stare when his words cut out. His gaze made Dean feel vulnerable, more vulnerable than he already was while spilling his inner thoughts. His icy blue eyes would almost make Dean go weak at the knees every time they peered into his.

To Dean, his eyes were just....indescribably beautiful.

Dean then quickly realized they had been staring at each other for too long so he subverted his gaze to the carpeted floor. It seemed like most of their relationship was based on long, meaningful staring contests.

“I wish you wouldn’t get so shy and look away.” He heard Cas quietly say and Dean’s head snapped back up.

He then remembered Cas touching the orb. Twice.

Sam groaned in response, “Oh no. Not you too.” He was shuffling his feet awkwardly in the corner of the room, waiting for one of them to bring up the idea of getting out of there because he didn’t want to rush them. Especially since he had no idea what would fly out of Dean’s mouth if he did.

Cas looked between the two Winchester boys and spoke with a defensive tone, “Cursed objects should only effect humans, besides, if I was under the curse I’d tell you I secretly look through your laptops when you aren’t in the bunker. You two should really consider clearing your browser history.” He then swiftly slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes grew large.

Oh Shit.

Dean then grabbed Cas’s arm and started pulling him out of the room, retracing their steps back to the entrance, “Okay, we need to get the hell out of here.”

Sam trailed lazily behind them while he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, “I’m calling Rowena.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala while trapping his phone in between his ear and his shoulder blade as he kept both hands on the wheel. Dean and Cas both sat in the back, which was something that felt almost foreign to Dean. He had tried to convince Sam to let him drive while he talked to Rowena, but considering Dean was under some sort of curse, it didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

And Sam was completely right. He could feel his confessions bubbling up inside of him, making their way to the front of his mouth. If he let his guard down for a second, he knew he’d start to ramble again.

So, him being allowed to drive certainly wasn’t apart of the question considering he wouldn’t have enough willpower to focus on the road and his big fat mouth at the same time.

His choice to sit in the very back next to the angel instead of the passenger seat, however, was completely voluntary. He truly didn’t even know why he did it.

He sat there, hearing Sam lightly mutter things into the phone while he watched Castiel. He had leaned his head against the cold glass and let his eyes wander aimlessly at passing cars and streetlights. It was dark now, almost ten at night. Shadows perfectly reflected across Cas’s face, making him appear even more stunning to Dean than usual.

No, the extra imagery paired with his usual business attire and 5 o’clock shadow, he was......well, he was-

“So hot.” He blurted out like a 16-year-old girl. A blush crept onto of cheeks and he mentally wanted to scream at himself for letting his guard down. The very thing he had just told himself not to do.

Cas’s eyes flashed in his direction for a few seconds before heading back to the window. Dean swore he could see a sliver of a smirk across his face in the reflection of the glass.

Rowena had told Sam the easiest solution to fix their situation several minutes ago, now she was putting her colorful vocabulary to good use, telling them how stupid they were for touching the orb in the first place.

After another minute of chastising, Sam simply hung up on her, no longer wanting to deal with her.

Dean’s attention was then brought back toward his brother, “So.....What’d she say?”

Sam sighed, dreading breaking the news because he already knew Dean wasn’t going to like it, “The curse wears off when all secrets have come to light. That’s the painless option, at least.”

“I’ll take the painful one.” Dean immediately replied. Anything was better than telling them everything he was keeping pushed down inside.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, “Dean, you’ve already made one dumbass decision today, maybe try not to make another.”

“It’s not like doing something smart is going to cancel this whole thing out. I say we just have Rowena hop her little Scottish ass into the bunker and she whips up some spell to cure us because I promise you whatever pain that would put me through would feel a thousand times better than me airing my dirty laundry everywhere. Like, I really don’t want you guys finding out about my lucky underwear, okay?” Dean immediately slapped his forehead with his open palm. He was losing more and more control over his words as minutes passed.

He heard Sam snicker at his confession from the front seat.

Dean would’ve yelled at him if he wasn’t so afraid of saying something else like, “I usually keep them right next to a pair of lace panties in my dresser that this one girl let me try on once. I told myself I had just forgotten to give them back but really, I think I kept them because I liked it.”

Fucking Hell

This curse was going to be the death of him.

He could practically hear Sam cringing at his comment, “Okay, that was so much more information than I ever needed to know....Look, could you just hold it in until we reach home and then you two can go in separate rooms and just get your confessions over with? If it’s bothering you that much to do it in front of us?” Sam looked at him through the rearview mirror.

Dean considered it, “Well, how far are we?”

“About four hours.”

His heart sank. There went that plan. He was barely going to last another thirty minutes, let alone four hours, “Sam, my mouth is currently playing it’s own little game of ‘truth or truth’ at the moment and I’m somehow losing big time. If we’re not home in the next thi-”

“You know what? Fine. Why don’t you just suck it up and do it now. Pretend I’m not here.” Sam cut him off with frustration now present in his voice.

“Sam-”

“You’re going to spill anyway, you can either just let it happen or you can fight it.” His brother shrugged, “I just don’t want to hear you bitch because this is your own fault in the first place.”

Dean looked at Sam through the rearview mirror and then looked over at the angel who was being unnaturally quiet given the circumstances. Dean closed his eyes and sighed, “Fine. But nothing ever leaves this car, alright? I mean it. No trying to have discussions about it later because all you’ll get in return is a broken nose. Understood? Snitches get stitches. What happens in Baby, stays in-”

“For fucks sake, we get it.” Sam groaned, “I’ll just tune it out.”

Dean then glanced over at Castiel again, clearly both jealous and annoyed that he wasn’t having the same unpleasant experience, “What’s your deal? You’re too perfect and holy to have any secrets?” He raised an eyebrow.

Cas shifted his body to face him and it was as if his words had snapped him out of a trance. Then when Cas decided to reply to him, the flood gates seemed to finally come bursting open, “Actually, I’m just sitting here trying not to think about what all this staring from you means. You’ve looked over at me exactly 12 times since we sat down in this car. Yes, I’ve been counting. And it all just makes me wonder if this is something all humans do with each other or if it’s just you. Also, do you really think I’m hot?” His words came out almost monotone and unbothered but the second he finished talking, his face appeared to be just as irritated as Dean’s a few moments ago.

Now, Dean was beginning to blush again, this time redder, and his voice went an octave higher, “I uh....well....” Dean was able to keep himself from admitting it out loud. But his brain couldn’t stop repeating the answer.

Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes! Fuck Yes!

Cas barely waited to see his reaction before continuing to speak, “Well, I think you’re hot. Sometimes it’s just unfair. Especially when you walk into the kitchen for a snack late at night while I’m just sitting there, waiting for morning to come, and you’re wearing nothing but boxers and a tight T-shirt. And the way the light hits your eyes and those freckles.” Cas bit his lip as a way to try to keep himself from talking, but it was no use, “It’s not even just your body, the fact that you’re constantly so brave and dedicated to saving people. It’s hot and it’s unfair.” Cas ran a hand through his black, messy hair, mimicking Dean’s actions from earlier. He couldn’t believe something he had been holding in for years, was forced out of him with a simple curse. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was effected by it in the first place. Angels should be immune.

Although, when Cas really thought about it, he was the most human an angel could possibly be. Maybe that was why.

Dean chuckled at Cas’s confession. He was just grateful he wasn’t the only person in the car who felt embarassed. Also, if Dean was honest, the way he was all shy about what he just said was absolutely-

“Damn, you’re just adorable.” Dean blurted out. At this point he was just glad he wasn’t revealing the one thing he desperately needed to hide, which was difficult when it was the secret that was trying it’s hardest to escape past Dean’s lips. But, if there was one thing he wanted to hold onto until he reached the bunker, this was it.

He watched Cas cover his mouth with his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. He was trying to take control of the curse but it was fighting back even harder. He eventually gave in when he was too exhausted to resist it and, even though his hands tried their best effort to muffle what he said, Dean could still make out every word and it sent a shiver down his spine, “I’ve always thought about kissing you.”

Dean continued to chuckle until he accidentally let his guard down again, “Me too.”

Dammit.

They both went quiet as an awkward feeling settled into the air between them and neither of them hesitated to stare at each other. There were so many nights where Dean had dreamt of having a moment like this between them. Where they finally break down the walls between a platonic friendship and something more. But now that the moment had arrived Dean wanted so desperately to escape it. He was terrified of what really lied behind the other side of the wall. He feared that it might not be everything he had hoped and yearned for for so many years.

So he wracked his brain for the very few hidden things that didn’t involve Cas.

“I always say I have no idea how those ‘Dr. Sexy’ episodes get on the DVR, but I’ve always been the one recording them.” Dean figured even though that was considered a deep secret, Cas and Sam already knew damn well who was recording it.

When it got quiet again, both of them still didn’t want to revisit the moment the two of them had. So, Cas admitted something else, un-Dean related, “I always pretended to laugh at Uriel’s jokes, he was really not that funny.”

A smirk fell upon Dean’s face when he heard that. That was just such a Cas thing to say.

Dean then wracked his brain again, “Sometimes when Sammy’s asleep, I think about just taking some clippers and just-”

“Okay, you know what? I’ve sat up here trying to mind my own damn business but this is just ridiculous. Can you two just fast-forward and stop beating around the bush so I don’t have to listen to four more hours of this?” Sam finally snapped and looked over his shoulder at them for a few seconds before looking back at the road.

Dean and Cas had completely forgotten he was still there.

Dean could feel the words hanging on for dear life at the edge of his tongue, but he held it in long enough to play dumb for his little brother, “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” Sam stated with a deadpan delivery.

Cas tilted his head in confusion at Dean, “Why would we be beating a bush? I don’t understand”

Dean sighed at the angel’s sudden naive nature. He was about to make up some half-truth to appease both Cas and his brother, but instead, something else entirely came out of his mouth, finally rolling off his tongue.

“He just wants me to finally admit I’m in love with you—Oh, fuck.”

#destiel #deancas #casdean #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #castiel #deanwinchtser #sam winchester #fanfic #fanfiction #ficlet #love #confessions #mutual pining #destiel fanfic #destiel feels #destiel ficlet #destiel fic

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aliciameade · 6 years ago

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Fade Into You - Ch. 1

Title: Fade Into You (Chapter 1 of 5) Author: aliciameade Rating: T Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Tip for newlyweds: send a wedding invite to every billionaire whose address you can find because it's a 50/50 chance their assistants just send you a perfunctory gift without ever wondering who the hell you are. Or: Beca had a really bad terrible idea when she got tired of being broke in New York.

Also on AO3 and FFnet, but I probably can’t link there idk.

Beca wasn’t prepared for how expensive it was to live in New York City. Sure, she’d done her research; she knew it would be costly, but just how costly it was was wreaking havoc on her bank account. Rent, transportation, groceries, household necessities and the very rare luxuries like a concert or theater ticket here or there to keep her sanity had her living paycheck to paycheck. Even bringing two roommates with her to cram into the tiny Brooklyn studio didn’t help her live any more comfortably (considering only one of them chipped in for rent).

Of course, it probably helped her afford to eat.

Whatever. The point was that it was not quite the life she envisioned for herself once she landed what she thought was a Big Job.

But at least she had her friends.

“Why do I have so many cousins? And why are they all getting married?”

Beca watched Chloe sitting at their tiny dining table on Sunday afternoon (if you could even call it that) as she tossed aside a just-opened fancy envelope and what Beca assumed to be a wedding invitation. As far as she could remember, it was the fourth Chloe had received so far that year. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Sixteen. And I’m the baby of the family so they’re all either married or about to be. And here I am.” She gestured at nothing specific and sighed. “I can barely pay my share of the groceries. I can’t afford to go to all these weddings so I need to send something off their registry, but I can’t afford that, either.”

“Weddings feel like a ploy to get free shit from everyone you met once in your life,” Beca said as she watched Chloe stress out. “Like, congratulations on deciding to spend your life with one person. Why do I have to reward that?”

“It’s like an expectation. You either have to go to the wedding or send a gift. Or both!” Chloe slid her chair back from the table and took the two steps needed to get to their bed which she threw herself on a bit dramatically. “I’m just going to elope.”

She liked being on the same page as Chloe. “And miss out on all the free swag?” Beca said as she nudged Chloe’s foot with her own.

“I don’t want to be part of the problem!”

“Okay, okay!” Beca laughed. “So elope. Must be nice, though: send out a bunch of invitations to people you know won’t come and get a bunch of free stuff in return.”

“I know,” Chloe mumbled into her pillow. “It’s so messed up.”

A devious thought slid through Beca’s mind and she paused the music she’d been playing. “I need a new Keurig; ours is going to die any day now. I can feel it.”

Chloe turned onto her side to look up at Beca. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She closed her laptop and slid down to lie next to Chloe, eye-to-eye. “I have an idea. But before I tell you, I blame it entirely on Amy’s influence.”

“Why Amy?”

“You’ll see. Now hear me out. What if we sent out wedding invitations saying we’re getting married in, like, Fiji where no one we know can afford to go, and set up a wedding registry somewhere.”

“Beca, that’s, like, fraud. No wonder you blamed it on Amy.” Chloe frowned at her. “And no one would believe we’re getting married anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not even dating!” Chloe said with a laugh. “And you don’t even like girls!”

Oh. Right. There were those little details that the people who would make sense to invite to their wedding would know she and Chloe weren’t together. Not to mention the giant elephant in Beca’s mental room that she was actually very into girls and very, very into Chloe.

Except literally no one in her new adult life knew either of those facts about her. The bisexual thing was weird to bring up unprompted at this point, and when she started dating Jesse in college, everyone just assumed she was straight and made it even weirder to try to correct.

And the Chloe thing, well...that was all sorts of messy and complicated.

“Okay, first of all, a person can fall in love with someone who’s not their usual...type, so anyone who says shit about that can fuck right off.”

Chloe seemed a bit surprised by her declaration but waved for her to continue. “And the fact that it’s me?”

She had to stop herself from saying, “It’s everything.” Instead, she said, “We’ve basically been living together for six years. I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.”

Chloe was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Beca Mitchell, you devious little devil. You actually think this could work.”

“Well, why wouldn’t it? If Aubrey was getting married in, like, Fiji and you couldn’t afford to go, you’d send her something off her registry, right? That’s what you just said.”

“I would never miss Aubrey’s wedding,” Chloe said earnestly. “She’s my best friend. And she wouldn’t miss mine, either.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Beca drawled. “So we don’t invite our current friends. Or immediate family. Cousins, old coworkers, and friends from high school.”

“Can I invite Mrs. Higgins, my 8th grade choir teacher? She was my favorite teacher.”

“Yeah, I mean as long as she won’t try to show up—wait. You’d actually do this?”

“You’ve had worse ideas.”

“Have I though?” Beca shook her head. “This is dumb. Forget it.” She put away her computer and rolled out of bed. “I’m going to Target if you need anything. I’m out of conditioner.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ll come with you.”

~ ~ ~

When Beca came home from work late on Monday, Chloe was laying in bed, laptop propped on her thighs. She was intently focused on whatever it was she was doing and didn’t look up at Beca’s entrance.

“Hey, weirdo,” Beca said as she kicked out of her shoes and pulled her own computer out of her bag to toss it onto the bed while she changed into comfy lounging clothes. “What are you doing?”

Chloe ignored her for a few more seconds before tapping the trackpad with particularly notable resolution and sitting up. “Hey!”

“Yeah, hey,” Beca laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing? Caught up in an intense Pinterest spiral?”

Chloe shook her head. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

“Is this going to be puppies or something dirty?” Beca knelt on their bed and walked her way up until she was sitting next to Chloe. There was no telling what Chloe had up her sleeve whenever she told Beca she wanted to show her something.

“Neither. Look.” She turned her screen toward Beca.

“What am I looking at?” she asked after a few seconds. “Because that looks like a wedding invitation with our names on it.”

“That’s what it is.”

She looked at the invitation on Chloe’s screen again and then looked at her. Chloe was biting her lip and almost buzzing with excitement. “And why is that a thing that exists?”

“I made it!”

Beca rolled her eyes. “And why did you make it?”

“We need invitations if we’re going to invite people to our wedding.”

“That idea was terrible! I told you to forget it; how much time did you spend on this?” She grabbed the computer away from Chloe so she could zoom in on it. The stationery had been painted with watercolors. It was quite pretty and one Beca wouldn’t be opposed to choosing for her actual wedding.

“A couple hours. I went with a silver and sage palette. I don’t think we’re a couple who has pink in their wedding.”

“Yeah, no,” Beca said, only half-listening because her brain was pretty hung up at the moment seeing the words ‘The Wedding of Beca and Chloe’ in script. “No pink.”

“I just put Fiji because you mentioned it yesterday but we can pick something else. And a date. Oh, and we’re registered at Amazon and IKEA.”

Picking a wedding locale and date with Chloe? Sure. Cool. “Wait. You already registered us?”

“Well, no, not yet,” Chloe scoffed as if Beca’s question was absurd. “That’s what’s on the registry cards that go with the invitations. We need to make our registries together next weekend.”

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned or proud that you’re so willing to go along with my terrible idea.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Chloe said with a shrug.

Beca was pretty sure a lot of bad things could happen like someone showing up to a non-existent wedding. Then again, all they’d really have to do is apologize and explain that the wedding was called off last-minute and point out their would-be guests would now have a vacation in Fiji without wedding activities to inconvenience them.

“Several things come to mind,” she said as she returned the computer.

Chloe elbowed her. “Okay. We need this to be far enough in advance that it doesn’t feel shotgun, but not too far that everyone can rearrange their schedules for it.”

“So it’s like I forgot to send out the invitations like I said I would and you found them in a box two months after they were supposed to have gone out?”

Chloe looked at her, holding her gaze. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“And we should have it on, like, a Wednesday so it’s super inconvenient. With no holidays around it that people can use to save vacation days.”

“I feel like you’re a secret evil genius,” Chloe said as she flipped through the calendar on her computer. “How about October 2?”

“Perfect.”

They then spent more than an hour Googling Fiji and wedding location options. It took so long because they kept bickering about the venues; Chloe loved one but Beca hated it. Then Beca loved one and Chloe hated it. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of them would remind the other this was all fake and it didn’t matter, and the other would argue that it still had to seem real. They’d finally settled on a resort located on the edge of a rainforest that had more than enough amenities for a destination wedding.

“Well?” Chloe asked when she finished entering the details on the invitation. “Good?”

Beca stared at the screen and what they’d created inviting recipients to their wedding. It made her a little queasy so she swallowed hard. “Perfect.”

They ordered a set of one hundred invitations, response cards, registry cards, and envelopes for it all and agreed to split the expense equally.

“Did we seriously just do that?” Beca asked as she put away her credit card. “That shit is nonrefundable. We just burned five hundred dollars.”

“Think of it as a down payment on my new dinette set.”

“Your new dinette? Pretty sure that’s going to be ours, babe.”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Babe?”

Beca blushed. “Wedding fever. Shut up.”

“You’re adorable,” Chloe said with a laugh as she grabbed Beca by the chin to give her a shake. “Careful, or I might marry you for real.”

She blushed even harder, her heart getting lodged in her throat. “Yeah, right, dude.”

“We’ll see,” Chloe said with a wink before hopping off the bed to leave Beca behind, heart still pounding. “It’s my turn to make dinner. What do you want?”

~~~

“How many names do you have so far?” Chloe asked from her lounging spot lying backward on their bed, feet rocking back and forth next to Beca.

Beca looked at the spreadsheet on her computer; she hated spreadsheets. Loathed them. But Chloe created one for their wedding invitation list so she could have Staples print the addresses on the envelopes once they arrived. Had they planned ahead like actual would-be brides, they’d have had the list ready to import when they ordered the invitations to let the printer do that. But alas. “Thirty-six. It’s hard to figure out who makes sense to invite to my wedding but wouldn’t actually come.”

“If you can get to forty, I can make up the difference.”

“I should invite the CEO of BFD; it’s not like he’d ever come. I’ve never even met him. He’d probably pick one of the expensive gifts, too.”

Chloe sat up quickly and Beca tried not to think about how strong her abs must be to do that. “Beca.”

“What?”

“You’re a genius.” She sat forward so suddenly Beca had a fleeting [stupid] thought that Chloe was about to kiss her but all she did was turn around to sit next to her and look at the list on Beca’s screen. “But don’t add him; I don’t want to put your career at risk. Put your douche boss from Residual Heat instead; there’s no way he’d come.”

“O...kay,” Beca said as she typed his name. She’d have to look up her old studio’s mailing address later. “But why am I a genius?”

“We can invite a handful of CEOs and tech bigwigs who won’t know whether or not we work for them. We send it to their office and their assistant will just buy something off our registry without bothering to look us up.”

“Should I be concerned that your mind is this twisted?” Beca asked as Chloe commandeered her laptop to open Google and start searching.

“Did you forget this was your idea to begin with?”

She watched Chloe pull up the address for the headquarters of Apple. “A little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding? The bigger the company the bigger the chance we get a ‘declines with regret’ and you get that Ableton Push you think I didn’t see you add to our Amazon registry.”

Beca grumbled under her breath to hide her guilt. She’d gotten a little click-happy the other night after a couple beers and added a few non-traditional items to their list like high-end mixing equipment and the new Xbox.

“I’m just going to pick ten companies from the Forbes 500. Let’s see what happens. And now you don’t have to come up with the rest of your list!”

“Sounds great,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Something in her gut was telling her they were taking this much too far. But that new Ableton was so, so pretty…

~~~

“Becs, honey,” Chloe said when Beca opened the door to head to work.

Beca turned, patting herself down to make sure she had her keys and phone. “What’s up?”

“Don’t forget to mail the invitations.” She smiled at Beca and pointed at the shoe box on the table containing their pretty little scams. Amy had stuffed the envelopes for them last night and was naturally agreeable to their little business venture. They’d obliged her request to add an absurd inflatable bounce house to their list as payment for her help as long as she promised to never try to set it up in the apartment.

Beca was pretty sure Amy had her fingers crossed behind her back when she agreed.

She picked it up and rapped her fingernails on it. “Are you sure we should do this? I feel kind of guilty.”

“We got our list down to eighty-nine people we barely know—or don’t know at all. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, okay,” Beca said with a nod, though being told not to worry didn’t magically erase her concerns. “You’re right. I’ll see you after work. It’s my turn to cook, so text me what you want and I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

“I’m totes going to be the one who actually cooks in this marriage, aren’t I?”

“Trust me; it’s for the best. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

~~~

Beca dropped the stack of thick, fancy envelopes into the outgoing mail drop on the corner by her subway stop on her way to work, and that was it.

The deed was done.

~ ~ ~

Three days later...

When Beca came home from work she found Chloe at the table but she wasn’t sipping her usual tea and wearing a smile at Beca’s return.

Instead, she was visibly nervous, her arms crossed and eyes fixed on her untouched tea.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Beca asked and moved to sit across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Chloe said in a small voice, eyes refusing to meet Beca’s.

“It’s hard to promise that when I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll try. What’s going on?”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. “My parents got one of our invitations.”

“What?!” Beca almost launched from her chair; she gripped the edge of the table to stay put and she saw Chloe flinch at her outburst. She tried to lower voice when she demanded, “How?”

“I checked the spreadsheet because I know I didn’t put them on it.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “But it looks like it got corrupted, like it combined with my Christmas card list.”

Beca’s blood ran cold. “My dad’s on your Christmas card list, too.” She’d barely finished the sentence when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She could hear Chloe’s text alerts almost non-stop from where her phone sat on her bedside table. “Who else ended up on the list?”

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Beca pulled her phone from her pocket; she already knew. She didn’t even bother looking at the screen as she swiped the screen to answer it. “Hey, Dad.”

“You and Chloe are getting married?!” he crowed into the phone. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, Beca I’m so happy for you both; you’re perfect together!”

“We’re not—wait.” She straightened. “Huh?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She looked at Chloe across the table who was oblivious to what her father was saying. She seemed to assume it to be terrible the way she was hiding half her face behind her hand. She looked miserable.

“Yeah…” Beca replied. She felt bad; this was all her doing and now Chloe’s going to be humiliated having to tell everyone in her life that she tried to do something dumb. Or that her fake relationship failed. And all her cousins were getting married… “We’re...really happy.”

Chloe’s hand fell and her eyes went wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“And I’m so happy for you. The date is going to be tough for me to get away in the middle of the semester, but there’s no way I’m going to miss my little girl’s big day. Is there a block of rooms reserved for guests? Should I just give your name when I call?”

“Um, no. Sorry. We...we splurged on the trip so we couldn’t lock down rooms for everyone.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of the rooms. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the resort and give them my information.” It was Beca’s turn to cover her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. That’s so generous.”

“Anything for you and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

“Thanks. Listen, I just got home and Chloe and I have a lot to talk about. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

Beca ended the call and set down her phone with a long exhale. “Shit.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked sounding as sheepish as she did excited.

“He’s...going to pay for everyone’s rooms at the resort for our wedding.”

Chloe blinked hard and sat back. “What?”

“He thinks we’re perfect together. And he wasn’t surprised at all. Well, he was surprised by the wedding. Not about us being together.” Which we’re not. “What did your parents say?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “They offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner and the reception.”

“What?” Beca said with a barked laugh.

“They’re over the moon for us. Asked what took us so long.” She looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair, which was a unique state for Chloe to be in.

“But you didn’t tell them it’s fake.”

“Did you tell your dad it’s fake?” Chloe countered. “No, you didn’t. You just went along with it.”

Beca sank into her chair, too. “And now our parents are ecstatic we’re getting married.” There was a lot to unpack with that fact and all that came with it. Chloe’s texts were still chiming and a minute later, Beca’s started up, too. “Seriously, who else got invited?”

With a sigh, Chloe slid a piece of paper across the table. Printed on it was a spreadsheet set up just like what they’d made to send to Staples, except it was a mish-mash of their distant cousins, millionaire executives, and people they actually knew. Their parents. The owner of the vet clinic Chloe was interning at.

Aubrey, Emily, and the rest of the Bellas.

“Oh, my God, how did this happen?” Beca said with a groan as she crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the trash can. (She missed.)

“I told you: I don’t know! All I can think is that my files were named List1 and List2 and somehow they got combined or maybe I didn’t delete everything from one of them before I saved it.” She reached across the table and grabbed Beca’s hands. “Beca, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll let everyone know it was just a prank gone wrong.”

Beca was about to agree when she remembered how excited her father sounded. “Your parents were really happy?”

Chloe managed a sad laugh; she still looked on the verge of tears and Beca couldn’t blame her. She felt like she might cry herself. “My mom said she was starting to get worried you were never going to propose.”

“Oh, my God,” Beca said, blushing hard. “She didn’t even know that we were dating. Or, that we weren’t dating. Whatever. What did you say?”

“I told her I asked you.”

“You proposed to me?!” Beca scoffed. “As if you would! I would totally ask you to marry me before you even had a chance!”

Chloe blinked at her, her worry and sadness starting to fade into a soft smile. “You would?”

Beca realized what she’d said and shook her head. “Nevermind. I should have looked at the envelopes before I dropped them off.”

“You didn’t have a reason to. This isn’t your fault.”

“Except that it was all my idea?” Beca said with a crooked smile. “You’d think Amy would have realized they were wrong when she was stuffing them. She knew the plan.”

Chloe sighed and let go of Beca’s hands to run her own through her hair. “Something tells me she knew they got messed up.”

“Why would you think that?”

Chloe shot her a look.

“Because it’s Amy. Right.” She sighed, too. “I need a drink.” Beca stood up and headed for the fridge, the top of which held their liquor collection. “What do you want?”

“Whiskey, neat,” Chloe answered as she pushed aside her tea.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

~~~

They waited until they were both two whiskeys in before they agreed to get on Skype with Aubrey.

“This is how you tell me you two are a thing?” Aubrey said as she waved the invitation in front of her camera. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“It all happened so fast, Bree,” Chloe said. “I guess living together in such close quarters...well, it brought some things to light.”

It was so convincing that Beca almost believed her. Except she didn’t know why they were lying to Aubrey. Not wanting to immediately disappoint their excited parents was one thing, but going along with it with Aubrey… She nudged Chloe from her spot next to her where they sat closely in bed so they could both be mostly in frame and threw her a look she hoped read, What the hell are you doing?

Chloe just winked at her and slipped her arm behind her to wrap around her waist and pull her closer.

“Well, as disappointed as I am that you didn’t think to tell me, I’m thrilled for you both.”

“You are?” Beca scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You two are good for each other. And I know you’ll take care of my best friend.”

Beca had to fight hard to not blush. “Yeah. Well...that’s the plan.”

“So, Fiji? I’ve always wanted to go! Do you have a wedding planner? And Chloe, I can’t believe you haven’t asked me to be your Maid of Honor yet! We made a pact!”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Right! I was getting to that! I’d love it if you’d be my Maid of Honor.”

“What are you doing?” Beca muttered from the side of her mouth.

“Asking my bestie to be in our wedding,” Chloe muttered in return.

“I’d be honored!” Aubrey said with a bright grin. “Now you have to let me take over the planning. You can’t do this all by yourselves. Put me in touch with your contact at the resort and I’ll take it over. What have you arranged so far?”

“Well, we could barely get the invitations out without trouble…” Chloe started and Beca elbowed her. “So we haven’t really had a chance to get going yet. We haven’t even put down the deposit to reserve the space yet—”

“Don’t say another word,” Aubrey said with her hand up. “I’m going to take care of that as my gift to you both.”

“Thanks, Bree. That means so much.” Chloe grasped Beca’s hand and pulled it up to kiss it.

Beca just stared at her in shock.

“Right, Becs?”

“Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks, Aubrey,” Beca offered. “We gotta go, though,” she added, desperate to end the torture.

“Okay. Remember to send me that info and I’ll send you the confirmations once I get it taken care of this week.”

“Totes. I’ll text you later.”

“Perfect. Have a good night, you two!”

“Bye!” Chloe chirped and Beca offered a weak wave as Chloe disconnected the call.

“Oh, my God, Chloe, we can’t keep this up!” she said as soon as the screen was blank. “What are we doing?!”

“Everyone’s so excited for us; I don’t want to disappoint them.” Chloe turned a little to look at her and she was so close Beca could see the different specks of light and dark in Chloe’s eyes. “We’ll tell them soon.”

“Aubrey’s going to spend money on this. We can’t let her do that.”

“I’ll wait a few days to send her the info and then we’ll just tell it’s off.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

~~~

Not two hours had passed when both their phones chimed with a group text from Aubrey to the two of them. Chloe was taking a bath when it came in so Beca opened it and read it aloud so she could hear it.

“Was too excited! Looked up the resort info and got it booked. Oh, my God. They said they didn’t have any record of your interest—gee, I wonder why—and the day was already booked for some corporate retreat but I got them to move it for the wedding. Of course she did. Good thing you let me take care of it! You might not have had a venue. Damn it, Chloe!”

“Well, it’s not my fault!”

“Then whose fault is it?!”

Nothing but silence followed from behind the shower curtain.

(Chapter 2)

#bechloe #fdau #fake dating au #WITH A TWIST #fanfic #fade into you

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womgi · 3 years ago

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More thoughts

again with my writing

The funny thing is that this one is actually one of my older projects. Like, the first serial fanfiction I wrote was my infamously complicated and at this point positively cringe HP/Naruto fanfiction that still counts as my most popular fic, which was started in 2010, when I was in the 19/20 age. Alot of the stuff I post on AO3 is like post 2020, though my AO3 account itself is a lot older than that. The SW SI on the other hand, I started about five years ago when I was in my “make SI great again” phase....or something like that.

There are problems with writing SIs. And I don’t mean problems in writing them well, just problems to start with. Like the how did it happen. While lots of people seem to either ignore the mechanism of insert, or complicate it to the point that it sounds like inserting a character has some secret rulebook you’ve never heard of, there is a certain degree of planning required.

I admit it, I suck at entry. As the fan of complicated and nuanced backstory as I am, while I enjoy the “ROB/ASB did it, but i know nuthin!” stories, I can’t write those without my body revolting. Which is why I secretly have complicated backstories for my SI insertions that usually don’t make it into the fic itself. Like my BT SI for instance, has its own unwritten short story about how the Forerunners fucked around and my MC was fucked. It’s not written anywhere, and the details sometimes change in my memory, but it exists!

My SW SI on the other hand, doesn’t have that. Hell, even his powers are undefined. All I got is “ROB/ASB did it. Can’t be assed with more.” I repeat, this was a waaay older project.

And then there’s the more important question of course, what are the SI’s limits? Now, hear me out, I don’t actually think this part is actually that important. It is entirely possible to handwave the exact power limits and keep the story interesting and engaging without slipping into a wank. The problem is that if you have not set those limits, then you can’t write a good story where you engage in repeatedly abusing that lack of limits like a minmaxing bastard until your SI is the GOAT of the universe. It does not, it cannot work like that. It’s important to keep in mind that like many other things, the powers and abilities of the SI are ultimately a vehicle for storytelling. SW is quite the soft universe. Despite all the nice numbers in the books and the wiki(or should I say wookie?) what matters on screen is plot.

Also, Saxtonite numbers are so self contradictory, the rotation of physicists within their graves could power the globe for the foreseeable future.

It’s only after I started writing this story though that I found myself appreciating George Lucas’s storytelling. Whatever shit everyone gives him about his directing and his dialogue, that man could tell a story. And when I write, I sometimes feel myself fall short of greatness and think to myself, yeah, that tracks.

The thing about writing SI that’s most scary is the sheer lack of limitations on what the character can accomplish. The reason fanfiction is so alluring as a writing medium is that you have a structure to write creatively in. Like training wheels, they let you play around with all the fun stuff of writing creatively without having to invent a spanking great plot wholesale. And SI, like time travel is a great way to pull at butterflying away the plot. You have so much choice its ridiculous.

I’ve wrestled with what I was going to do with my BT SI until I kneaded an arc out of my frustration and imagination. I’m actually proud of it, because I managed a mostly character driven arc where the sheer bullshit capacity of the MC to absolutely murder everyone under superior firepower is almost an afterthought.

It's after writing that arc that I realized what star wars stories were about. The setting was almost inconsequential. In the end, it doesn't matter how many joules a Venator's reactors can pump out in a second or the kinetic impact a phase II clone trooper breastplate can handle before it shatters. They're all just sauce that surrounds the meat and potatoes that are the characters.

And I've also learnt that it's possible to write stories with all that sauce stuff and still be a star wars story. if a character is motivated by, or involved with the technology, isn't that also a star wars story? Like, the guy who designs new guns at Blastech, he, (or she or any other alien indeterminate gender) has a story too. The maintenance tech who handles the Senate's airspeeders, they have a story too. Even the droid who is stuck repairing a Separatist turbolaser after a battle with republic ships, it has a story too. All I really need to do is put myself into their place, imagine myself doing their jobs and out of nothingness, in my head will spring a story that may need to be told, a drama yet to be written, and perhaps even fanfiction fit to be published.

#not coherent #star wars fanfiction #star wars #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #creative writing #self insert #bad fanfiction #writer problems #battletech

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cloppyreads · 7 years ago

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Dumb Fanfic Writer Reads Salty Comments

Hey guys, if you didn’t know, I’m a huge fan of the horrific YouTube series Filthy Frank, which I’ve only become really interested in over the past few months. One of the funniest series he does is “Loser Reads Hater Comments” which is pretty self-explanatory through the title itself. Whereas my last post about Pride was pretty composed, this time the filter is coming COMPLETELY off, so if you’re not a fan of me cussing and basically being a huge dick to the people who deserve it, then I’d just skip this post. Everyone else, jump down past the “read below” line

Alright motherfuckers, let’s get this shit-show on the road! We’ll start off with the main account, AO3, which is where I got a lot of the heat from in the first weekend of chapter 1 going up, but let’s take a look at the constructive criticism that the opposition felt the need to leave for me (and if you want to read the full comments section for yourself, here you go):

(You’re most-likely going to have to right-click the images and open them in another tab to be able to read them, since I’m putting this under the “read more” line. Sorry. :( )

First of all, don’t you love these types? Hurrrr, the media is corrupt, man, they’re all trying to brainwash us with their poisonous broadcasts, I’m not gonna let them make me one of their SHEEPLE, illuminati confirmed!!1! Second of all, HOLY CRAP, you DIDN’T vote for Trump, and you’re STILL disagreeing with me!? Oh my god guys, we have such an open-minded individual, someone give this special snowflake a medal, STAT! Buddy, nobody gives a shit that you didn’t vote for Trump. Your voting choice doesn’t take away the butthurt that you’re projecting because I’m saying something you don’t like. I mean, I’m just speculating here, I could easily be wrong about this, but I’m gonna wager a guess through your comments that you didn’t vote for Hillary either, so that leaves you in three possible groups: 1) You didn’t vote at all, which means you don’t give a shit about your country, and you’re just as much to blame for every shitty decision Trump makes because you didn’t even TRY to stop it. 2) You were one of the 10,000 idiots who voted for Harambe, a dead gorilla. Not just a gorilla, an animal, who isn’t allowed to be president anyway, but a DEAD animal who isn’t allowed to be president. So there’s a strong possibility that you were one of the thousands of college students who were just barely old enough to vote, and were chuckling the entire time you waited in the voting line mumbling “lol memes xD” while avoiding eye contact with anyone more attractive than you (which is probably most people). 3) You voted for that libertarian guy who I can’t even remember- Johnson, something or other? I forget what his deal was, but he was basically an idiot. My brain probably did me a favor by purging him from my memory.

Alright, let’s move on

Well guys, I don’t know how to fight this one; nobody in the history of the world has ever made a parody of a real person for satire and to entertain the people who don’t like that person. There’s no such thing as SNL or any other late night talk show who does this regularly for entertainment purposes. I’m basically public enemy number 1 at this point, I’m shocked the FBI hasn’t knocked on my door because I made a caricature of Trump. But even if they do, I’m not going quietly. I’ve got a Walking Dead dart-shotgun that’s fully loaded and ready to pop some sticky darts onto people’s foreheads. #FUCK GUN CONTROL Seriously though, you want to cry about leftists burning buildings down because of political bullshit? Do you? Do you also want to cry about white sports fans who burn down cars and start riots when their team loses (or hell, even if they win)? You know who doesn’t cry about that? Fox News. Yeah, they just show a thirty second blip of it on TV and chalk it up to “some fans getting a little out of control” God forbid any of those fans have dark skin, otherwise they might get shot just for screaming too loud.

what’s next?

WHEW LAD Okay, telling me that I need to adopt a “don’t ask don’t tell policy” about politics in MY writings, seriously? What country are you from, Korea? One of those countries where you’re required to suck your political leader’s dick every day or you get thrown in jail or worse, killed? Buddy, I said right in the first chapter there was gonna be political bias in this story; I didn’t say I was a political scientist and that I was writing this as a thesis for how our government needs to restructure itself (at this point, I think dismantling it completely might be better off; a Mad Max style anarchy or Walking Dead wasteland looks like an okay alternative right now), I wrote this story for entertainment purposes. Telling me this story is shit because the politics aren’t 100% accurate is the same kind of cringe that tumblr exhibited when they got mad at Zootopia because the staff designed Judy’s nose incorrectly, BIG FUCKING DEAL. Oh, and the kicker, saying I created “a major divide in the audience” and warning me when “all hell breaks loose”. Oh my god guys, I’m so scared! I think some terrorist organizations are gonna come after me because I wrote a fanfic that expressed my ideals! Shit! I better seclude myself in the Right-Wing protection room, I hope I have enough canned ravioli and lotion to survive their furious rage! D:

Ooh, ouch, that cuts deep yo! What an educated response, just rubbing my face in it, oh god, how will I recover!?? Alright, well if you click on this guy’s name, you can see that he doesn’t have any stories on his account. If you google search his name though, you’ll find two things of interest that stand out: -He’s a League of Legends player (and it lists his stats there, but I don’t play this game; is he good? Is he trash? Someone who plays this game tell me, because I don’t give a shit enough to look it up). -He has an account on fanfiction.net which has ONE story, the Zootopian Empire. I’m not gonna waste my brain cells on reading any of the story, but just from the description, I’m gonna assume this guy has such a hard on for League that his manchild brain decided it’d be a good idea to write a Zootopia fanfic that basically has the characters from the movie stand in for the characters of the game. Is that what this is, Valhalla? You trying to be a writer by combining your favorite videogame with your favorite movie? Oh yeah, those always go over REAL well. “Oh my fucking god guys, I fucking love League, and I fucking love Zootopia! I’m gonna write a fanfic that combines both of them and I’ll just explode with popularity, because the idea is so good that IT SELLS ITSELF, I AM A FUCKING GENIUS!!”

Alright that’s all for AO3′s side, let’s take a look at what angry manchildren on fanfiction.net had to say:

Totally didn’t write a foreword in my first chapter warning people “this story contains political bias, don’t read it that bothers you”, nope, not at all. Seriously, how do people like you get through life? Do you read a sign that says “water contains sharks, do not swim”, then jump right in and get mad when you see sharks coming after you? You’re obviously (barely) smart enough to read, so do you just willfully ignore warnings for the sole purpose of being an ass? Great use of your time there, I’m glad this small act of yours gave you the confidence you needed to keep going through life. :)

Sir, you seem to be coughing a whole lot. Are you okay? Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time with your head up your own ass, you wouldn’t be choking on your own shit; just a thought. Anyway, yeah, you reading stories from National Enquirer about Hillary SUBTLE COUGH AND PRETENDING TO CHOKE WHILE I CORRECT MYSELF LAWL MALLORY and her secret emails doesn’t really convince me or anyone else with an above average IQ. I do find it funny however that people like you will take any mention of questionable emails from ANY source as unarguable truth, but when allegations of Trump THROAT CLEAR SHAKE OF HEAD HOLDING UP HANDS ROFL TRUNK HA HA being guilty of sexually assaulting women, you start saying “Hurrrrr, where’s your prooooof, where’s your sources, huuuuuuuuh!?”. Ah, hypocrisy; smells of that ripe acrid smell of bullshit. Gotta love it.

Now this... this one brought a tear to my eye. I mean, I know there’s war going on in the East, starving children in third-world countries and nations who have gone entirely bankrupt, but this... this is the most tragic thing I have ever heard. A person living in a well-off global super power country has to... they have to... see and hear things that they don’t like! On TV! On the radio! On newspapers! And they can’t do anything about it! They can’t change the channel, or look up something on youtube or play a videogame to give themselves some entertainment to distract themselves from this minor inconvenience; NO. They have to sit there helpless and the thing they’re subjected to makes them slightly uncomfortable. Guys... I’m sorry, I’m just so emotional right now, I need to go listen to Arms of the Angel and grieve for this poor soul living in a constant state of minor inconvenience. T___T

Fun fact: the part about the transgender thing is 100% wrong you dub fucking idiot, and unlike you, I have a source backing it. According to the same source, apparently he doesn’t want them in the military either, so thanks for proving how stupid you are, bye bye.

Oh hey guys, look, it’s Mr. “I’m gonna write a Zootopia fanfic that’s basically League of Legends with Zootopia characters.” AGAIN I don’t really have much to say about this, I just think it’s funny that the same guy had to show how NOT UPSET he is by commenting on the first chapter ON TWO DIFFERENT WEBSITES. Good job sir, you sure are showing me the what-for’s and the business and stuff, I just can’t survive under your onslaught.

So that’s all for the public comments on both websites, which means this little segment of mine SHOULD be over; but wait, there’s more! This one came really as a surprise to me, because I got it through a PM on FurAffinity, which I haven’t even published the story on (I kept meaning to, but, eh, lazy). I’m not going to ask you to read this whole thing-- I seriously don’t want you guys to waste your precious brain cells on something like this, but I still felt like I at least had to show you a visual of it, just so you know that human beings like this are indeed real. Without further ado, I present to you, the MacDaddy of butthurt manchild in its purest form:

I know that’s probably too small of font for most of you to read- like I said, don’t bother reading the whole thing, your IQ will probably drop by seven points- but that is a whopping twelve paragraphs of “I don’t like what you said, it hurt my feelings and made me more upset than any rational human being should feel over something so inconsequential”.

I’ll admit, I didn’t read the whole thing either, but just for fun, let’s go ahead and skim it and highlight a few parts of it: “ To make matters even worse, instead of providing a reasonable political commentary and giving both sides their fair share of flaws, you go into full-on Hillary Clinton fangirl mode, portraying Muleford's side through rose-tinted glasses while making Trunk and his supporters look like total lunatics. Officer McHorn, for example, is ridiculed for bringing up the email scandal, which is actually a real issue that the FBI themselves have exposed multiple times. “ blah blah blah, here’s some stuff I read from my favorite Republican news source... “ What makes this even more glaring is how obviously out of character Judy and Nick are here. They both uncharacteristically identify themselves as "progressives" who "embrace diversity in each other's species", have uncontrolled emotional breakdowns over election turnouts, and even go as far as to ditch their jobs as impartial protectors of the law in order to carry protest signs around during an organized event they should be patrolling.” Yeah, because you know, you, a fan who has no involvement with the creation of the canon movie, never collaborated with the directors or the staff or anyone working for Disney, has all the business in the world telling me what is and isn’t “out of character” for characters you didn’t create. Great logic there. “ Speaking of which, what's up with all the blatant Donald Trump demonization? Yes, I get that you voted for Hillary Clinton, as you made that painfully obvious earlier, but that doesn't justify using Remus Trunk as an excuse to hate on Donald Trump. Whether you like it or not, he is our country's president, so the least you could do is be tasteful about it. There are better ways to go about tackling political issues than constantly calling a political caricature "bigoted"” Bro, how many people wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how much they hated Barack Obama when he was president? What if Hillary had won; would you take anyone seriously if they were telling you to show her some respect because she was the president, or would you be foaming at the mouth going “TRAITOR TRAITOR EMAILS PUT HER IN JAIL I AM UPSET AND INSECURE BLARRRRRGH!!!!”? Anyway, that’s all I care to read of that message, you get the idea-- people who either like Trump or like Hillary LESS than Trump all had to come pitch a fit and tell me how threatened they are that I expressed my opinion in a fucking fanfiction. Really great that these are the people who think the world is too PC and that everyone is too sensitive for their tastes, when they themselves get all butthurt when someone voices something that disagrees with them.

So there you have it- my fanfiction pissed off a lot of idiots, and no shits were given. I just wanted to showcase this gallery because it was fun, and I hoped it was fun for some of you guys too. If you think this was petty and that I should have been the bigger man and just ignore them, you’re probably right, but I think being the bigger man is overrated. :) Petty for life! Whooo!

#Cloperella #rant #fanfiction #salty comments #salt #butthurt #mad #these are real human beings #shaming

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