#i keep thinking of movie watching tendencies for them now . oops

[selfspinninglies]

do NOT let alex watch the titanic

— t9

He would die .[ It's okay cause he already doesthat ]

[sensei-venus]

Daniel, girlcock Amanda and Johnny treat reader like they're royalty when courting them and trying to bring them into their relationship. Flowers and other little gifts, Johnny doing things for them even when they don't ask (bc I believe that's his love language). Idk what else oops

(Unedited)

•Daniel and Amanda make it a mission to pick out the prettiest flowers they can and arrange the most beautiful bouquets. They always send them to her work place with the sweetest notes attached. They like the fact that one of them always gets a text from her right after the flowers are delivered, saying thank you and how sweet it is that they sent them to her. Their ego is boosted when they find out that her other omega coworkers gush over them sending her flowers.

•Daniel likes inviting her over to the house for dinner all the time. He loves cooking and he loves to see her eat his food. Amanda and Johnny are great with picking out alcohol, Amanda always picks out the best wine and Johnny always comes over with some kind of decent booze. Usually they eat and talk over dinner and then wind up watching a movie. Johnny has a habit of throwing popcorn around the living room. He makes a huge mess but the omega thinks it’s cute.

•Johnny likes to visit her a lot. He usually swings by her work when ever he can ti say hi to her. Sometimes he even brings her lunch, usually it’s just dinner food from a place Johnny likes. Johnny won’t fully admit it but he finds it cute when she gets grease all over herself from the dumpy dinner food. He gets way with kisses, licking the grease from her lips.

•Johnny is the one that is the first to get away with things. He’s handsy and rough, which actually works in his favor for once. It feels almost taboo to kiss the gruff, muscle built alpha in the backroom of the store. He always makes her feel like she's going to get in trouble, get them both caught touching and kissing each other. After some heavy petting, he leaves with a grin and the omega is drenched in his scent. Everyone knows that the omega has a alpha on her.

•Johnny also has the tendency, later in the relationship, to go to bee house and fix things for her. He fixes the smallest things around her place like leaking sinks or showers. He even fixes bigger things like messed up paint jobs or holes. Might throw the “I'm here to clean your pipes~” if he feels a little frisky, which is just about every time he's over at her place. He likes to see her get at least a little flustered when he shows up. Sometimes he goes shirtless just to see if she will peak in and look. Flexes a lot when she's around.

•Amanda will definitely buy spa packages for the two of them. She talks her into taking the day off from work to come with her. They spend all day getting pampered together at the spa. This also gives Amanda the time to get her own fun in. She gets to see the omega parade around the spa with only a robe, getting a eye full of her naked body ever now and then during different treatments. Amanda has to try and keep herself from musking up the place the whole time. It doesn’t help when her cock becomes interested too under her own robe.

•Amanda ended up feeling her up when they are alone together. When the spa staff leave them to be alone. Amanda can’t help but kiss up her neck and feel up her tits. If she’s bold enough, in a moment of pure alpha instinct, she can’t help but rub her dick along the omega’s soft thigh. Rubbing her pre and scent into her freshly clean skin. It’s pure heaven.

•Daniel takes things slow, he wants her to feel safe and vulnerable around him. Daniel thrives off making his Omega feel safe. It’s his natural trait to want to protect what he sees as his, and that includes the omega he is trying his best to court.

•He talks to his mom a lot because she’s a omega, he try’s to get advice on how to treat his potential new mate. He also does want to make her feel like she is only a toy to him. He knows that he is in a pack with two other alphas, it can be intimidating to say the least. His mom is very happy to hear about Daniel and his mates falling in love, especially with the new idea that it’s a omega. She likes the idea of grandpups in the future. She tells him about her own experiences and what she knows about being a omega and the feelings that come up being courted by alpha’s. He takes all her advice to heart.

•Sometimes he spends hours with the omega. When they have private time together, when Johnny and Amanda go out to have their own time together, the two of them enjoying a night of dive bar drinking. Both of them enjoy their company while making weird commentary and humor. Daniel spends the night with the omega in his lap, spoon feeding her his moms famous chocolate cake. They spend hours talking about random things while they just sit and scent each other.

[sopebubbles]

part 14 - ohana means family

Word count: approx. 800

After you finished eating, you set up the movie in the living room. It had been one of your comfort movies for many years, and you had watched it several times with the guys after Yoongi's disappearance. While you got the movie started, Joon positioned himself in a chair to the side while Yoongi sat on the couch with Sujung in his lap, facing the TV, and you eventually came to sit beside them with a foot or so of distance between you.

As the movie played, you couldn't help but watch the emotions that played across Yoongi's face as the story unfolded. You had forced him to watch the movie years before, but his unguarded expressions now were something you still marveled at since your old boyfriend had always been rather reserved, showing only a few expressions most of the time. Here he sat, laughing openly at the funny parts, chewing his lip over the tension, and you even caught his eyes glossing over at some of the more touching moments. Occasionally he would ask you in a low voice to explain something when he couldn't quite keep up with with subtitles.

After the first thirty minutes or so, Sujung had fallen asleep with her head resting back against her father's chest, heavy breaths falling from her open mouth. It was rather adorable. When you started to move to go put her in her bed, Namjoon offered to do it instead. When the taller man carefully lifted the girl off of him, Yoongi felt instantly colder, missing the comforting heat and weight the small child had provided. To try and replace her presence he grabbed one of the pillows on the couch and clutched it to his chest, but it failed to give him the same sense of security. You couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him as you observed this change in mood.

"Do you want to come sit closer with me?" You offered after clearing your throat. He looked at you hesitantly for a moment until you held out your arm, showing him you had an open space. Finally his accepted, scooting over to close the space between you two, but when he just sat beside you, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder to pull him into the warmth of your side. The heat relaxed him instantly, and he rested his head against your shoulder. You took the blanket off the back of the couch and awkwardly shook it out over both of you and you got comfortable. When Joon returned a few minutes later, he saw the new situation between the two of you and silently excused himself to your bedroom, laying himself out on your bed to read.

"If you play with my hair like that I'm going to fall asleep," Yoongi informed you in a hushed tone a while later as you had absent-mindedly begun to run your fingers through his sandy blonde locks. You had forgotten about that tendency.

"Oops," you whispered before giving his head a light pat and resting your hand on his shoulder once again. You tried not to think about how he smelled the same as always and how much you loved it.

"That was a nice movie," Yoongi smiled as he stretched while the credits played.

"Mhm. Do you know now what I was talking about?" You asked and turned off the TV, leaving the room dark with only the light from the kitchen.

"Um," he thought for a second. "Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. So, no matter how much trouble I am, you won't give up on me?"

"Exactly," you chuckled at his use of the word trouble. "Yoongi, this is your family and your home, and I'm never going to let that go."

He nodded understandingly. In his chest he felt his heart tightening and although it was uncomfortable, he felt surprisingly good. Your words touched him and he truly tried to accept them. "Thanks again, Yn. I'm going to bed now."

"Okay, goodnight." He whispered the word back and shuffled down the hall to his room.

After tidying up the living room and taking care of the dishes that you had left at the start of the movie, you went to your own bedroom, where you found Namjoon fast asleep with a book on his chest, on the side of the bed he knew you didn't sleep on. You had forgotten he was in your apartment, hadn't even noticed he had failed to return from putting the baby to bed since you were too caught up on the closeness with Yoongi. After changing and brushing your teeth you turned off the lamp on his side of the bed and set his book on the nightstand before getting into your side without hesitation and quickly falling asleep.

The sea without you

part 13 << master list >> part 15

A/n: oof I'm so soft now. Let me know how you feel about the written part or anything else about this au!

Summary: When rapper Agust D mysteriously disappears, he leaves behind his rap group, his fiancé and his unborn child. Even if they get him back, will it ever be the same? Can they make it right?

[Dates are relevant and times are mostly accurate (but ignore the time at the top bc I can't change it >.<)]

Taglist is open [ask, comment or dm!]

@purpletaecup @yzkyzkuniverse @toomanydamfandoms @halesandy @ggukkieland @crispychanniee @fanfictionreader05 @denxuuu @darkskin-buttercup @crewzie-chan @min-yus @yoongiofmine @slayyterr @ephyraaaa @uhmdaddychill @marpotterhead @mooniyooni

[darthwheezely]

Georgie Weasley HCS!

This is again, probably the first of many headcanons parts because the twins own mu ass and that’s perfectly fine with me.

Also please watch the video it makes me cry with happy tears-

Warnings: stupidly adorable men named George Fabian Weasley, diabetic level fluff, diet angst, me cussing oops

Let’s be clear: I love this man more than life itself, just because I’m a Fred girl doesn’t mean I don’t simp unhealthily hard for this man ok now I’m done let’s get into it

God, he’s such a soft boy

Like he was the kid growing up that hated seeing lil bugs being stepped on and would make it a priority to save them

“No, even bugs are living things too!” And would cradle them and set them back in the yard, whispering words of encouragement

He would frequently cry to Molly about how worried he was about if they got back to their families or not

At times like these, she was worried for her beautiful son but held him all the same

It’s the way George Weasley loves reading for me

This boy is a bookworm. Period.

He’s read LOTR more times than he’s liked to admit, and he’s read Romeo and Juliet enough times that when the Baz Luhrman movie came out he quite possibly saw it 5 times in a row

Like a movie screening a day. This kid-

That week he screams “part fools you know not what you do” to an unholy extent and Fred almost shanks him like 12 times

He also develops a crush on Claire Danes but that is besides the point

True story anyway-

He is a fantastic cook

No, like for real

If he knows Molly is busy that morning at home and he knows the Burrow is stocked enough with ingredients he can manipulate-

He’s making everyone breakfast

Like regular omelettes? Uh, Chile anyways have you HAD a George Weasley omelette

He hates following recipes too

Swears it “kills his artistic tendencies” but I really think it’s because he stresses over measurements

But that’s what Fred is for :)

His favorite muggle game is Scrabble

He whips literally everyone’s ass at it and has a copy of the Scrabble dictionary on him

“George, what the fuck, ‘aal’ isn’t a real word-“

“WELL LET’s CONSULT THE DICTIONARY HMM-“

He also just starts to make up random words

No one really argues this

So is it cheating?

Nah he just calls it ingenuity sis

Again, this is pretty canon but he has a lot of pent up anger issues

Externally, he keeps his cool light years better than Fred ever will, but internally, he just bottles it all

This is of course why George is considered to be the better beater of the two-

He waits until Quidditch to release all of his anger and stress and pain

Our angel feels resentful of Fred sometimes

He loves him more than anyone on thsi earth, 100%, but Fred doesn’t really understand how much people compare them both and how many people don’t see George as his own person

This leads to being a hyper vigilant Georgie, going above and beyond to craft the best plans

The best jokes

Just wanting to be the best at something

And Fred is there to hype him up constantly along the way, but never really will understand how hard it is for George to cope with his inferiority complex

George gets a bit clingy to his loved ones, afraid they’ll pull away when they realize he’s not Fred

He just needs a bit of reassurance and extra loving :) he deserves every bit of it

George Fabian is a crier

He always has been ever since he was little which led to a very confused Freddie (he’s not a big externally emotional human, in terms of expression like crying)

George is a big empath

He feels virtually everything that his loved ones feel which fills him with a lot of duty to protect

At all costs

George is basically young Arthur, I’m not gonna lie

He’d never say it but George just wants a daughter. Or 10.

To spoil and love and hold

He wants a child of his own to see run around and be crazy with

But also to read to every night and make them feel protected and respected and loved

He wants to be what his dad was and is to him you know?

Also um...babes is kinky

If asked if he’s a, t, or thighs?

Thighs. Every time.

This man is addicted to hips like if you’re dancing at a party and moving your hips?

Good lord he’s such a goner

He’s also packing but yknow

He’s super romantic

Probably the most romantic of any of the Weasley siblings

He’s sucker for old school romanticism and is the most chivalrous little angel

He also probably has a stash of pick up lines and romantic sentences in French or Spanish in his back pocket

Please god I love this man

He has DEFINITELY called you the following:

Darling, my love, my soul, my glorious one, it GOES ON THE MORE ILLUSTRIOUS THE BETTER

Please save me from myself writing this I’m a fred girl but god help me I would die for George Fabian Weasley

His favorite scent is of mornings

Like when you wake up early and you smell dew and grass and sunlight

That’s his favorite scent in the entire world

His favorite dessert is Canary Creams - honestly, he don’t even care about the “side effects” they just taste too damn good

You think I’m joking, Fred legitimately had to take them away from him during testing

“Georgie, stop oh my god we only have so many-“

“P L E A S E I’ll make more later they’re so yummy”

“STOP IT IM SERIOUS”

Basically our angel

And we love him. Period.

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[reineyday]

geraskier zoom conference hc's based on that 'and they were video conferencing' post

(this has turned into a fic in point-form oops; also it's more pre-slash 'cuz this quarantine is ongoing and i don't have any specific ideas about how a relationship discussion would go or be handled over zoom haha)

it starts as a group conference call between yennefer and triss and jaskier and geralt probably because yen and triss and geralt run some sort of small business and they need jaskier for something artistic probably (he's a freelancer)

let's say they have some sort of start-up to do with children's education somehow, inspired by ciri, and they want to start a small educational web series and they want music in each episode and so hire jaskier as a composer

geralt is in charge of episode content because this web series is gonna be about mythology and he has a masters in it and has done a fair amount of traveling for it (and lowkey has been learning about different kinds of myrhs and legends and heroes and monsters all his life alongside swordfighting thanks vesemir)

ANYWAYS at first they just talk about work: geralt knows which myths he wants to talk about and how, but can't quite come up with a good narrative because he has a bad tendency to ramble on about very precise specific details that get boring, and he also doesnt know how to set the tone for children despite having one himself

jaskier suggests they make the show centre around a hero that is a witcher who goes off on adventures meeting all these creatures, and jaskier already has some fun ideas for songs

jaskier thinks geralt isnt very forthcoming but he's clearly interested in the project and there's excitement in his eyes when he says ciri will like something they write together

geralt also gets kind of moody about inaccuracies (like a nerd 'cuz he is one lol), and jaskier thinks it's funny and likes to pull his leg by saying they should just change this detail or that detail and that he's allowed bc he's the composer and he's taking creative liberties

about three zoom meetings in, they decide the witcher should have a horse and jaskier says they should give it a name and geralt says "roach" and jaskier laughs and asks about cockroaches and geralt looks... petulant??? and says there are fish called roach too and he meant the fish, and jaskier feels fond and relents and says yes fine the horse's name is "roach"

the next video call they have, they start talking again about work and jaskier's trying not to focus too much on the fact that geralt has shown up with his hair braided but goodness it makes him look softer with the way it pulls back and some strands of hair escape to frame his face

geralt eventually notices and hmms his questioning hmm (and when did jaskier start distinguishing the difference?) and when jask asks about the braid, geralt's face goes EVEN SOFTER and says ciri can't practice braiding on her friends' hair at school anymore so she practices with him and jaskier's like "well fuck that's it this is it ive never even seen him in person but here we are this is a crush oh shit"

the first time geralt laughs is because in one of their meetings, jaskier decided he was gonna be chill and wear a work shirt but just his boxers with stupid cartoon pizzas on them, amd he feels so comfortsble he forgets he's just wesring his underwrar 'till he gets up to grab his acoustic guitar and geralt sounds like he was startled into laughter and yeah, that's right, he's wearing stupid boxers and he flushes but geralt looks pretty amused and jaskier did that so he's not too embarrassed

halfway through the session after that, where jaskier has given up on slightly professional looking clothes but has committed to wearing something over his boxers at all times, he hears some barking and he sees a german shepherd's nose enter the bottom of the frame by geralt's arm

jaskier is obviously like YOU HAVE A DOG and geralt explains ciri usually plays with him during their meetings but they decided to go earlier that day and when jaskier asks what the dog's name is, geralt pauses and looks a cross between irritated and embarassed and then says "roach"

jaskier laughs and laughs and geralt just looks on stoically and it's not on his mouth but jaskier can see the pout in his eyes, but after he's done laughing, all he says is, "like the fish" and geralt smiles a tiny smile and shakes his head and jaskier's a goner, truly

one day, jaskier is caught on trying to find the perfect wording and chord progression for one of the episodes, and focuses on his guitar and keyboard for a while as he toys with this key and that rhyme, and when he looks up, geralt is in a kitchen putting on tea and mixing something in a pot and it's an hour past when they usually hang up

"you could have stopped me, you know?" jaskier asks, but geralt looks at him and hmms and jaskier feels all warm goddammit

he tells jaskier to go take a break and jaskier obliges and brings his laptop to his kitchen and they kind of just have tea together for twenty minutes before something dings and geralt has to go 'cuz it's dinner time for him and ciri

the next meeting, geralt shows up and his daughter's there in the background and she has hair like geralt's and a sunshine personality the complete opposite of geralt (though they both give off disintguished kinds of vibes)

jaskier is charmed; she's a great cheerleader and a wonderful person to run ideas by especially considering she's the target age group for their show, and when she makes a comment about how she wishes she could play the ukulele she got as a gift two years ago, jaskier brightens up and says he can teach her

now jaskier zoom calls a little earlier so ciri can have a short ukulele lesson before his work meeting with geralt, and it's so nice whenever he hears ciri practicing off to the side or roach barking from out of the frame and jaskier wonders what it would be like to truly be in the house with them

the next meeting after, they go a bit too long again bc they were arguing (well, jaslier was actually pulling geralt's leg some more, to be honest, but he can't help it if that's how he flirts), and ciri shows up and says it's time for food and when jaskier says he'll leave them to it, ciri suggests he just stay on amd they can eat together

geralt doesn't immediately say no and actually seems to be waiting for jaskier's answer so jaskier says yeah okay, and he grabs some food and they all have dinner together and they get to talking and jakier and ciri bond over disney movies and ciri says she wants to watch them together the three of them and yennefer and triss

the watch party happens and over zoom yennefer seems deeply amused the entire time and triss keeps giggling and geralt seems extra annoyed for some reason but jaskier enjoys himself and sings along to the movie and he tries not to imagine sitting right next to geralt on his couch on the side not occupied by his daughter

jaskier wakes up with a headache very close to their meeting time one day, and kind of just opens his laptop while he's lying in bed and opens the window to wait for geralt to start the meeting while he reaches over to get his ukulele 'cuz it's the closest instrument to his bed and the easiest on his brain when it's pounding like this

when he settles back against his headbkard and pillows once more, geralt is looking at him with a frown and asks if he's feeling okay, to which jaskier replies he's fine it's not covid he just gets headaches every now and then and it sucks but he can still compose (and he shakes his lil uke at the camera)

geralt says no he should sleep and when jaskier pouts he says he's going to sit here and wait for jaskier to put down the damn ukulele and drink some water and eat a granola bar and then tuck himself back into bed and he looks all fierce about it while he says it and how can jaskier not lug his laptop around while he does these things and fall a little more in love

eventually it becomes totally normal for jaskier to just hang out for long stretches of time, whether or not they talk about their witcher web series, and they cook together and hang out in their pajamas and jaskier and ciri have their music lessons and their disney nights and geralt even starts getting him to work out during some of their work breaks by doing 8 minuts abs

(jaskier was pretty adamant about not exercising but said he's do it just the one time but after 8 minutes of pain, geralt was flushed and kind of sweaty and said he needed to chamge his shirt anf then just took it off right there on the camera before he walked out frame to grab a new one and jaskier had to rush to pick his jaw off the floor before going to change out of his own sweaty clothes and yeah so he does 8 minute abs with geralt sometimes now)

once, geralt sends him a zoom link for a meeting at 2am on a night when jaskier can't fall asleep (his sleeping schedule's been so fucked since quarantine started) and when jaskier joins him, he looks like hell and he apologizes but when jaskier says he probably won't sleep for another three hours anyways, geralt looks the tiniest bit grateful and asks if they can work so they do, and if jaskier writes a song that's a little more like a lullabye dyring their meeting, and feels like his heart is about to burst when geralt, who'd moved from his desk to his couch, nods off while jaskier softly sings to him, well... jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself after he makes sure geralt is properly sleeping and then leaves the zoom meeting

they work and work and really get to know each other and then, all of a sudden, there are no more songs to be written for their witcher series and jaskier says "that's the last song, i think" and geralt hmms but neither of them hangs up

jaskier bites his lip and says, "i'll see you at the team meeting we'll have with yennefer and triss to wrap up my contract, i guess?"

and geralt says, "you should add me on facebook; we should keep in touch for future projects"

jaskier tries not to feel too bummed out because this is still a connection point and also yay more creative projects with the hot man he is probably definitely in love with and also potentially more money! but he's still a little bummed and then he decides if he's going to feel bummed he should at least do something about it and he says, "i will! you know facebook has video chat too"

and geralt hmms again but there's definitely a smile, and it's even an actual smile! "im aware," he says, and then before he hangs up the zoom call he looks stern and adds, "dont forget about ciri's ukulele lessons" and honestly jaskier wasn't expecting to continue with them but he's relieved they can still keep doing those

he shoots geralt that friend request and sates the need to scroll down his wall by going through geralt's past previous profile photos instead (they're usually of him and ciri and they're adorable)

and then, delight of delights, the next day around when they usually have their meeting, there's a video chat request from one geralt of rivia coming through facebook, and even more delightful: geralt's clearly on his phone and he only waits on the screen long enough to make sure jaskier's there and to give him a quirked eyebrow and a trademark hmm before he turns the camera around and jaskier is treated to an outside view and a walk with geralt and roach via mobile

and thus geralt becomes a fixture of his every day life

[fleckcmscott]

The Vanity

Summary: Arthur tries to get ready for work. Y/N joins him.

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Words: 3,774

A/N: This request comes from the marvelous brain of @ithinkimawriter. Again, thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

After he started street performing and getting gigs again, Arthur found he needed a better place to put his supplies for work. The two small shelves in the bathroom were already covered by his and Y/N's toiletries, so they didn't fit there. He'd been keeping it all in a plastic bag in the closet, but that wasn't ideal. The enclosed space had a tendency to get too hot due to how the heat worked in the apartment, which made his make-up dry out. And the brushes were getting damaged because of improper storage.

Having to borrow money from her wasn't the only reason he was hesitant to mention he would prefer a vanity. Y/N would often sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him lean over the sink while he applied greasepaint to his face. If he had his own work area, he assumed she'd probably hold back from him when he was in it, like she did when he was in his writing nook. It was one of the ways she showed him respect. But he loved her keeping him company when he'd get in costume, how they would discuss the day and plan for the evening.

She'd begun asking more about his job, seeming to be genuinely interested in it. They were simple questions: how long he'd been a clown ("About ten years. Maybe twelve?"); what he liked best about it ("Every day is different. And making kids laugh."); and what the hardest part was. He pondered on what answer he could give, one that was accurate, but wouldn't cause her concern. He hadn't wanted to tell her he still had to deal with mean people (though incidents were seldom and he was better at handling them). If he did that, she'd probably insist on riding with him, despite his reassurances he could take care of himself. "The commute can be rough," he'd admitted. Then he'd bent down to her and tapped her nose lightly with the tip of his brush. "It's good knowing I have you to come home to." Her wide smile and gleaming squint had been full of adoration, in spite of her reaching for a tissue to wipe her face.

Eventually he told her, though. "There's a cosmetic table at Donahue's Department Store," he said, giving her the flyer they'd gotten in the mail as he sunk onto the sofa cushion beside her. He pointed at the picture of the vanity, with its dark brown veneer and two drawers on both sides of the sitting area. The oval mirror had sides that folded in at an adjustable angle, which, he explained, would make it easier for him to ensure the white base covered every part of his face. "We could put it on my side of the bed. By the window. It's only a couple feet long, a foot deep. I already measured the space."

She looked intrigued. "Mr. Fleck, you want to put a giant mirror next to our bed?" The glint in her eye was obvious.

He blinked at her. "I need a space to put my make-up. The lighting will be better there."

Studying the page, she leaned her head on him, a smirk in her voice. "Of course."

He wondered why she was joking around when he was being serious. But he continued with what he had to say. "I don't want you to stop watching me get ready if we buy it. It'd be yours, too. It's not expensive. But- But I'd need to borrow a little from you. I could pay you ba-"

"Don't start with that," she interrupted. "I'll call them right now." With a kiss to his shoulder, she got up and walked to the phone. He eagerly waited in the kitchen entrance, worrying his pockets while she sat on the counter making notes. Then she hung up and gave him the good news: the store would be able to deliver it Friday afternoon, cash-on-delivery, fully assembled for a small fee. Arthur grabbed his wallet, took out all $22, and shoved it at her until she rolled her eyes and stuck it in an envelope for the payment. "I'll put a couple mascaras in there," she said wryly. "Then maybe you'll stop worrying about the money."

~~~~~

The party would be starting at 1:00 PM. Arthur had to hop on the red line from Burnley, transfer to the blue line in Hinckley, then take the train to Gotham Village. The commute would be just under an hour if there were no delays (which had become more frequent ever since the prior year's budget cuts). Gary had assured him he didn't have to worry. He'd worked for a friend of the family before and they were nice people. The kid liked magic tricks and balloon animals. It'd be easy. And he'd be home for the Saturday Night Made-for-TV movie Y/N wanted to catch with him. (Courtroom dramas weren't his thing, but he wouldn't miss the chance to settle his arm around her and pretend to be engrossed.)

Sitting at the vanity, with its round stool and solid, cream color cushion, made him feel like a professional getting ready to face the day. Even if he was a clown. The light shining through the sheer, muslin curtains of their bedroom was bright enough to get started. After removing his shirt and raking his brown locks back, he dabbed the brush in his pot of white foundation. The bristles ran across his forehead and strong brow in even lines, over the straight bridge and rounded tip of his nose, then down his right temple, careful not to get the pigment in his sideburn. Tilting his head and holding steady, he painted curved, smooth strokes over his sharp cheekbone, down to his jawline, then repeated the motions on the left side of his face. His mouth parted as he colored the area under his nose, his thin lips, and chin. When the paint was distributed evenly, he blended it with a sponge, using small, circular motions.

Y/N's soft footsteps approached as he finished the blue triangles above and below his left eye. "What kind of sandwich do you want to take with you?" she asked from the bedroom doorway.

That turned the corner of his mouth up. Whenever Arthur had a job around lunch, she packed him something to eat. He hadn't yet gotten use to being taken care of. The attention made him feel self-conscious. He wasn't certain he'd ever believe he deserved it. But more and more often, he found himself able to simply appreciate her thoughtfulness. "Anything will be okay. Wait - do we have turkey?"

"Yeah. I'll make it soon." He watched her in the mirror as she walked up behind him and sat on his side of the bed. "You don't have to leave for a couple hours," she said, working on her thumbnail with a file. "I'm surprised you’re in here already."

It was a bit early to be preparing for the gig, but he didn't want to be late. If these people really were as gracious as Gary claimed, maybe he'd be able to perform again at their next party. Or they'd recommend him to other families. Then he'd definitely be able to pay off the ring he was buying Y/N and give it to her in October, as he'd planned. He finished working on the triangle under his right eye, having already done the one on his brow. "I wanna make sure I get it right," he said. "I used to do it every day."

She got up and propped herself on the edge of the table, dropping the emery board on it. "You're much better at that than I am," she said as he drew the outline of an exaggerated smile, then filled it in. "I'm lucky I don't poke my eye out with my liner."

Chuckling, he let his gaze flit up to hers before continuing. It was difficult not to be distracted by her proximity; she was pretty even in her casual, weekend outfit. The black, white-seamed tank top showed off the contours of her breasts. And its slits, stopping just above her hips, enticed him. Glancing at her legs, he admired the curves exposed by her matching, form-fitting track shorts. The stray hairs on her calves were few, leftovers from her electric razor - he’d have to remind her to change the blade.

She scooted closer. "Do you know how beautiful you are in that?" she said, indicating his make-up. "You took my breath away when I first saw it. Well, that paired with your good hair."

A scoff left him as he put red eyebrows midway up his forehead. The paint helped him get into character. But he was aware his visage was more weathered than most thirty-five year old men. And he disliked how the color would accentuate the lines and crevices in his face. "It shows my wrinkles," he murmured, to himself as much as to her.

"I love your wrinkles," she said. "And your squishy cheeks." Then she cupped his face. He recoiled almost instantly, grasping her hand. A bit of paint had gotten on her. "Oops, I smudged you." Before he could protest, she grabbed the white brush from the jar behind her and perched herself on him. It caught him off guard. But after a few seconds, he put his left arm around her waist to steady her.

The tension in his body grew and his eyelids drifted shut. The bristles tickled with Y/N controlling them - he'd never had someone else do his make-up before. The wet of the paint and the weight of her on his lap reminded him of one of his earliest fantasies of her. He'd imagined bringing her to HaHa's and showing her off to his co-workers. (In particular, Randall, that asshole who'd been married and divorced twice, constantly complained about his exes and whoever he was seeing, and probably didn't even know what a clit was.) Even though they'd made fun of him, and he didn't understand all their comments about women, he could have proven he was worthy of a girlfriend.

Arthur sighed. He didn't like how the tenderness she was showing him prompted his thinking to go to such a bitter place. Especially since he felt he was doing better and believed he was moving on. Not wanting to spoil the lovely morning he was having with her, he concentrated on the physical space around him, the way Dr. Ludlow had taught him. He focused on the warmth of Y/N's form on his thighs, the hint of her pleasing natural scent over the chalky smell of the greasepaint, the way her fingers curled on his chest as she tried to fix the smear she'd made. The burning in his shoulders alerted him to the fact that he was flushing, and he ducked his head slightly.

It wasn't the best moment to get aroused - he really did want to get ready for work. But then she leaned into him, her breasts flush with his torso, and his heartbeat quickened. Her pebbled nipples through the thin fabric of her top prompted him to slowly trace the hem of her shorts. With his blood rushing to his groin, he nearly didn't hear her sound of displeasure. "What?" he rasped.

"I'm making this worse."

He moved to look past her, in the mirror. The carefully formed triangle still had a wide base, but one side was uneven, the tapering causing it to look like an icicle. He shook his head and seized the brush, pretending to be annoyed. "This is why I started early."

"Really?" she replied, tousling his hair. A couple stray curls fell onto his forehead. "I was hoping it was so we'd have time." The slight scrape of her nails on his scalp, and the invitation in her eyes made his mouth run dry.

Since they'd gotten together, he'd been learning his boundaries and figuring out what he liked. Y/N was understanding and patient, and happily answered any questions he could bring himself to ask. And when he misinterpreted something or made a mistake, she accepted it with humor. Her easy manner and generosity healed any embarrassment, even when he needed a few minutes to stop being flustered.

Making love with his clown face on wasn't something they had discussed. But if she wanted to, he wasn't opposed. He huffed, put the brush on the table, then let his fingertips slide down her neck. When she adjusted her legs and bumped his erection, he dipped under the strap of her shirt. "Time for what?" He hoped he sounded confident enough to tease her. The kiss she gave him was urgent but he drew back. "This stuff doesn't taste good," he warned.

"I don't care," she breathed, dipping to his mouth again, arms going around him. At that, he reached up her shorts, in a hurry to have her as close to him as possible. Lips continuing to pull at hers, he helped her stand and take them off, along with her underwear. He wanted to watch as she straddled him, but her kisses were demanding, and he was losing the ability to think clearly. Instead, he palmed her ass, savoring the feel of her slow but enthusiastic undulations against his length. Eventually, she broke away from him, pressing her forehead to his. "I made a mess," she giggled.

He looked down between them. The stain of her slick had gotten on the front of his blue pants, its faint whiteness shining in the bright sunlight. "Oh..." He licked his upper lip at the sight and shuddered. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

One of her requests had been that he attempt to be more explicit, to tell her what he wanted. He might as well try it again now. Swallowing thickly, he forced the words out. "I need to fuck you."

The light laugh that left her was delighted. "I'm right here," she purred as she helped him shed her shirt.

Once it was gone, he lifted her off him and sat her on the vanity, suddenly overcome with the need to take her. He threaded his fingers through her hair, angling his head upwards to tangle his tongue with hers. The grip she had on his biceps was almost bruising but he loved it. It made her inexplicable desire for him tangible. Slowly, he traced down over her stomach to hold her hips. His mouth reached her chest, and he panted between his sucking of her nipples and open-lipped kisses on her breasts.

He backed away, taking in the make-up he'd smeared on her body and face. The possession he felt at that shocked him, but he enjoyed it all the same. Then he gazed down at her core with hooded eyes and groaned. She was beautiful, splayed before him like she was, her center red, swollen, and so wet her arousal was on her thighs. He placed his palm on the crease of her thigh, licking his lip as he stretched to toy with her engorged clit. Her grip moved to his shoulder as she jerked up into his touch. He nuzzled her sternum as he continued, rapidly moving the pad of his thumb back and forth over the sensitive nub. The motions of her pelvis quickened, matching his fervor. But as his lips began to trail down to her abdomen, she stopped him. "I want to come with you in me."

After gathering himself, he stood and slipped out of his trousers and briefs. He bent to pick them up and put them on the bed, and she hopped off the vanity and turned around. It confused him at first. But then she braced herself on the table with her forearms. “Come on,” she whispered.

The sight of her bowed over like that, asking him to fill her, was undeniably arousing. But this was something new. They'd been exploring gradually. Despite his complete trust in her, he had to question it. “It’s- It’s hard to see you this way. Your face.”

“That’s what the mirror’s for.” Her eyes were wicked when they met his in the glass.

Ah. He chuckled, feeling silly for not knowing that. Then she pressed back, the swell of her buttocks nudging his hard-on. When she held herself open for him, he stopped doubting. Letting the clutch of her walls and her soft moans guide him, he slowly entered her.

When he was engulfed in her completely, he stilled and gazed at the mirror. The reflection made him snort - his greasepaint was smeared all over, the white, red, and blue smudged together inseparably, much like their two bodies. It was odd to see himself standing there - he wasn't sure if he liked it. So he blinked down at her face; he held his breath. He hadn’t even done anything, and she looked like she was about to get off. Then he felt the flicker of her fingertips on his cock. Reaching around her and between her legs, he said, “Let me.” She obliged, allowing him to entwine their fingers as she stroked herself.

Her words came out as a whimper. “Arthur...” She pushed towards him. “I need you to move.”

Eagerly, he withdrew and bucked into her, grunting and quickly speeding up. But he was too clumsy and slipped out of her. They both laughed as she grasped him and lined him up with her entrance. “Just go easy,” she said. “Don’t pull out too far.” Concentrating, he put his other hand on her hip and did his best to control the shallow rocking of his hips. The one or two inches of friction wasn’t enough for him; it seemed to be working for her, though. But it was hard to maintain his rhythm when the sound of her ass and thighs hitting him was making him want to lose himself completely.

Releasing her hand, he straightened a bit and allowed his gaze to rove over her. She was writhing beneath him, bent forward as she chased her pleasure. His touch ghosted up her spine, gentle along the faint knobs (much less prominent than his) under her smooth skin. Kneading her left shoulder, he looked at her reflection. Her head was tilted back, her brows stitched together as she strove back towards him. The lips he loved to kiss parted with every whine. And her breasts swayed with each thrust, their stiff peaks grazing the surface of the table.

A groan escaped him. He’d seen her expression contort in bliss a lot at this point. But it felt voyeuristic, watching her like this. Almost as if the mirror separated them in spite of their joining. A shiver went up him at the thrill of it, and he plunged faster, his palm on her side pulling her towards him. She met him, move for move, even as her hips stuttered, and he felt the familiar spasm of her muscles start around him. He drove inside her, hard, when she fell apart, and stayed buried deep while she rode out her climax. It wasn’t easy to do, the pulsing grip of her core nearly inducing him to move. She sobbed, her frame curling as she lowered her head to her vanity. Gasping, she squeezed his hand on her shoulder. The trembling of her legs caught his attention, so he rubbed her thigh soothingly and kissed her.

Once she’d relaxed, he left her body long enough to turn her around, set her on the table, and fill her again. Now he wasn’t patient. His lips devoured her mouth as he rutted within her, her walls around his hard cock flooding his senses. He hoped he’d never get use to this. At the building tautness of his muscles, he propped himself up on the vanity and grit his teeth. One of her hands held his hip, the other digging the small of his back, guiding him as he fucked her with abandon. “Arthur, don’t stop."

His movements faltered when her legs encircled his waist, then sudden, white hot fire consumed him. Everything disappeared as he moaned in the crook of her neck - everything that wasn't her. She gripped him tightly, her soft "Yes" caressing his ear and his heart. His toes curled into the carpet and his pelvis locked with hers, his essence pouring inside her, his length throbbing, surrounded by her heat.

Finally, he was able to straighten and catch his breath. He could feel her smile against his temple, and he patted her flank gently before he withdrew from her. First he sat on the edge of the bed, then let himself lay down and raked his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. That had been intense. And a work out. He could feel the sweat on his scalp. He’d have to shower again.

He hadn’t realized Y/N had stepped out until she reclined next to him and pressed a warm washcloth to his forehead. “Sorry about your make-up.”

“I think I can forgive you,” he laughed. His fingertips dragged up her side as he looked at her washed face in wonder. The gentle way she was dabbing at him, the love she radiated, would never stop being remarkable. This was one of the moments she made him believe he was the luckiest man in Gotham, despite the wretchedness that had been most of his life, and the conditions he struggled with.

Arthur accepted the cloth from her and sat up, watching as she stood and washed the vanity's surface. “Did you like it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He wiped the greasepaint from his skin. “Were you always like this?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. “Like what?”

Unsure how to describe it, he gestured at her vaguely.  “I dunno. Out there?”

"Out there?" she snorted. "I think you mean vocal." With a shake of her head, she knelt in front of him and rested her forearms on his knees. “That came with experience. And you may not be. That's fine. You'll figure it out.” Then she nuzzled at his nose. “It helps when you're with the right person.”

His chest swelled at that description of him, that she regarded him as such, and he put his arm around her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he quirked a brow at her, touching the marks his paint had left on her chest. “Does this mean you have a thing for clowns?”

The tickling of his ribs wasn’t entirely unexpected. “No." She nestled against him and kissed his jaw. "I have a thing for you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma

[merinnan]

Time Raiders

Okay, pausing the DMBJ 2 watches to watch the Time Raiders movie instead! I've been told that the entire movie is basically one big crackfic & I want to see how true that is

- Apparently the only place I can find it is YouTube 

- And we open with someone laying down cards which...seem to be making a qilin pattern. Okay. 

- And now we're at the Himalayas, and it seems to be a bunch of white soldiers shooting people? 

- Oh, this leader white guy has a classic villain look. I love the pocket watch, too 

- Wait, he's supposed to be a scientist? 

 - He obviously hasn't read the Evil Overload Handbook 

- And now this is giving me flashbacks to Xiaoge's first appearance in DMBJ1

- Ah, yes, I think this is the Xiaoge for this movie. Excellent. 

- DUDES. You have GUNS. You were using them just before. Why are you now using knives only? 

- I mean, it wouldn't do much better, because Xiaoge, but still 

- This is A Look

- Finally, one of them uses a gun, and it's as useless as I expected it would be 

- Ahahahah, omg, what he did to these two guys is hilarious 

- That is a TERRIBLE hiding place 

- Don't....don't leave him alive. JFC

- This flashback montage is super weird 

- Look, I don't have a tattoo myself, but I'm pretty sure that that's not how you get tattoos 

- And now we move to Wushanju 

- Oh, I think it's Sanshu who's been playing with those cards

- ...you have got to be kidding me 

- Really? We're really doing this? 

- I guess this is Wu Xie, then 

- What even did he just randomly put that mask on for 

- That is NOT a newborn

- Awww, kid Wu Xie 

- Yay, creepy old houses. And ofc kid Wu Xie is gonna try to get inside 

- But that is a fucking massive lock 

- Yes, of course, wrap the porch in giant fuckoff chains, but don't lock the front door. Why not? 

- ....k 

- Sure, that happened

- And bratty kid Wu Xie still pinched one of the medallions after all of that 

- Okay, yeah, if you were a kid who had to go to a funeral every month, no wonder you'd be so bored at them

- This movie is all over the place in terms of timeline 

- I think we're finally into the time period of the main story 

- And it seems this one also has Wu Xie as having been an architecture student of some kind

- Oh, yes, that's exactly what you want to find while crawling through a tunnel 

- WX: "Sanshu can never know about this. You didn't tell him, right?" 

WM: *oh shit I'm screwed face* 

- Hi Sanshu, I wonder how you got here

- I love that no matter what version it is, Wu Xie is a little shit XD 

- ...Wu Xie. Moths. Light. No. 

- Wu Xie gonna Wu Xie 

- Wu Xie, what are you doing? 

- OMG 

- Sanshu, this is all your fault for never letting him in anything like this. He doesn't know not to touch

- Wow, that wasn't subtle at all 

- That's some steampunky looking villain lair right there 

- I love how the 'passerby video' getting screened fucking everywhere is just the movie footage of that scene XD That's some high quality passerby video with interesting angles

- That's an interesting drinking spot, Xiaoge 

- I love that so far Wu Xie's instincts for everything is either 'touch it', 'wear it', or 'dismantle it' 

- ....okay 

- Yeah, I....I think this is going to be my reaction to most of the movie, tbh

- Although at least this whole magic Snake Empress and weird ancient technology/magic thing is more interesting than the bland het palace drama randomly dropped into the middle of DMBJ1 

- Oh, finally, some product placement 

- I was wondering what was taking it so long

- I love how all their desks and papers and such are inside what look like coffins, and then fold out 

- Oh look, Xiaoge's sword is inside one of the coffins. 

- And there's Xiaoge 

- Hei Ye gave Sanshu the sword decades ago?

- lol, this is like some Sword in the Stone bullshit right here 

 - I love it 

- a) Was all that really necessary 

- b) wtf even is that sword? 

- It's a really bizarre design, and surely being able to be moved like a mechanical device would weaken it?

- ...okay, that was a cute meeting, I'll give it that 

- Love how the older guys are teasing Wu Xie in the truck here. 

- Oh, Wu Xie's actually a psych student in this one

- And like, Wu Xie, how do you know Xiaoge was looking at his reflection. It's a window, he might have just been spacing out at the scenery 

- You must have been paying a lot of attention to him to notice it was the reflection he was actually looking at, hmmm? 👀

- This is a cute Wu Xie, tho 

- Yes, Wu Xie, despite your lack of modesty there I totally caught that you just called Xiaoge handsome 

- WU XIE WHAT NO DON'T DO THAT 

- Hahaha, Xiaoge had exactly the same reaction

- No, Wu Xie, it doesn't matter that you'd taken the ammo out, you should never stick the barrel of a gun in your face and look down it like that. 

- Even if you're certain it's unloaded, you just DON'T DO THAT

- Wu Xie, lacking impulse control and survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi since....forever 

- (okay, lacking survival instincts was perhaps a bit too far, but still)

- I love Xiaoge's "omg what even are you" look at that 

- This is a very talkative and open to talking about himself Xiaoge 

- It's kind of weird

- lol @ Sanshu locking Wu Xie in the truck so he can't come with them 

 - I mean, really, does he actually expect this to work? 

- He knows his nephew both likes and is good at taking things apart, after all 

- lol, I knew it 

- Oh 

- Oh, that's not a good sign

- Even Coral's logo just screams 'villainous organisation' 

- These mercenaries look like video game characters from like COD or something 

- Oh hi, lady I presume is A-Ning 

- I like the haircut. Looks kinda like DMBJ 1 Xiaoge's haircut, just with the fringe over the opposite eye

- Oh, there's that gratuitous boob shot that @thosch3i​ told me about 

- I really don't see why it was necessary for A-Ning to crawl all over the truck like that when everyone else just walked past it

- There is some really nice scenery in this movie with all the mountains and cliffs and such 

- "What I'm doing isn't about right or wrong, it's about how much" I like this A-Ning. She is refreshingly direct and mercenary

- Damn, I though Xiaoge was going to notice the drone. I mean, it's so close to them! He should notice it! 

- Love Hendrix's surprised Pikachu face at recognising him, though 

- I'm honestly surprised that none of them have looked in the truck at all

- I do appreciate that this movie doesn't even attempt to pretend that they're not tomb raiders 

- And that they have no interest in preserving this place 

- Because BOOM! Let's just dynamite our way in and destroy half the wall

- Oops, no floor there 

- Hahaha, this tomb is a fucking platform game 

 - Lovely, a shootout in a tomb. Just what every good tomb raiding movie need 

 - lol, Sanshu 

- Don't you ever ever again wonder where your nephew's little shit tendencies come from

- I think Xiaoge and A-Ning are the only truly competent people on their respective teams 

- A-Ning, 'keep them alive' does not mean 'try to shoot one in the face at close range' 

- That little boot knife is kinda cute, though 

- Clever move, Pan Zi

- I love the Xiaoge/A-Ning fight. He really is the only one who could keep her distracted 

- I'm impressed at how well she held her own with him 

- IDK why he was holding back

- Also, Xiaoge participating in fight banter, no matter how minimal? Strange, but also kinda cool. 

- I'm going to be giggling about that "Not bad"/"I know" for awhile, I think 

- IDK how they had the time or the ability to stay still long enough to rig up that trap, I'm impressed

- lol, yeah, I didn't think that it would take Wu Xie long to get out of the truck 

- I take back my earlier comment about it being too harsh to say that Wu Xie lacks survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi around

- Wu Xie, there is not enough light down here for you to get good shots without your flash being on 

- I know having your flash on is a BAD idea, but still 

- You cannot be getting good photos in this light

- Why is Xiaoge separated from everyone? He jumped down with them 

- I mean, it's good that he is, otherwise Wu Xie would be kinda screwed right now 

- Huh, bats, there must be an actual entrance to this tomb, not just the one that Sanshu's team made.

- A-Ning's tiny baby drones are so cute 

- The English dubbing in this is surprisingly good compared to the shows 

- Yes, good, the staring is starting 

- ...Wu Xie, you little shit 

 - He's so pleased with himself 

- Xiaoge is so confused until he explains it 

- OMG, a Xiaoge smile

- OMG A XIAOGE LAUGH

- Ah yes, multiple large tornadoes, a way to signify weird shit is going now 

- And weird spinny planets forming an...energy grid of some kind? 

- ...k 

- The mini drones apparently only pick up on people who are part of A-Ning's team, I guess

- JESUS 

- I mean, I had a strong suspicion that was gonna happen, but it still made me jump 

- Xiaoge to the rescue! 

- Damn, that sword is strong 

- This tomb definitely has a spider colony, but given it also has a bat colony that doesn't surprise me

- Those are some creepy looking mannequins 

- This set up looks like a game of Mouse Trap 

- A game of Mouse Trap with fire 

- That's actually a really cool way to light all the candles and lamps 

- I'm impressed that none of the cobwebs have caught on fire

- Oh, so NOW you use your flash, Wu Xie. When the room is all well lit and you don't actually need it 

- CREEEEEPY 

- Wu Xie and his compulsive need to touch things 

- Are all the puppets connected somehow, or are we gonna have spooky magical shit making them all come to life?

- Oh, the puppet band is like the bells, I guess 

- Huh, it seems Wu Xie's the only one who got thrown into memories in these illusions, everyone else's hallucination still has them inside the tomb 

- wtf, a lion is a weird thing to hallucinate

- Magic Zhang blood, go! 

- IDK why he needs to cut himself for each person, though, surely one cut should be enough to get all the drops of blood he needs 

- Good boy, Wu Xie, already so protective of his Xiaoge

- This really is a fucking platform game 

- Guys, this is why you study up on the raid mechanics BEFORE you enter the instance 

- Ahahahah, the music playing as Wu Xie basically dances with the sword trap

- lol, the look on Xiaoge's face as he realises Wu Xie is just...fucking dancing and taking photos 

- And that it's WORKING 

- OMFG, this is basically just a bizarre dance sequence 

- I love it 

- It's so stupid

- The puppets having fucking crossbows 

- Because ofc they do 

- Repeating crossbows 

- ...k 

- So now we have a room full of skeletons stuffed into cages 

- Why not 

- Ah, we're about to have bugs show up 

- Excellent 

- This is what I've been waiting for

- Let the hilarity begin continue 

- Dude, you can quit right now as much as you like, but it doesn't mean you're going to be able to get out of here by yourself 

- I guess this guy's gonna die now 

- For the tropes are hungry and must be fed 

- Much like the bugs

- Yep, here we go 

- Hello, shibie, I've been expecting you 

- These ones don't look as cartoonishly ridiculous as the ones in DMBJ 1, I'm sad 

- OMFG, it's eating the shovel/pick/thing 

- Okay, this is a good effort at cartoonish ridiculousness

- It's a lovely day in the tomb, and these are horrible shibie 

- Poor Wu Xie, so shocked at getting slapped

- And yeah. Yeah, that's about the only thing you can do there. 

- Only way to save the guy is to just give him a quick death so he doesn't suffer from being eaten alive

- They're lucky these shibie move so slowly. It gives them plenty of time to climb up onto those frames 

- lol, weird bendy sword again 

- Wow, good catch, Wu Xie 

- Y'know, Wu Xie, it might have been more useful to give the knife to Da Kui 

- And ofc Wu Xie falls down

- What is a DMBJ adaptation without Wu Xie getting himself into danger like this?

- That was so much wtf all at once 

- First, an unbroken flute just, like, laying there on the ground 

- Then, Wu Xie somehow thinking that playing it would save him from the bugs 

- Then that WORKED 

- He's like the fucking Pied Piper of the shibie 

- What even is this movie

- Haha, the little OK sign he flashes at Xiaoge 

- The wtf look on Xiaoge's face 

- Same, Xiaoge. Same 

- I love how everyone just. Accepts it & congratulates Wu Xie on being an awesome flute player 

- But then ig what else are you gonna do? 

- It's like, well, this may as well happen

- Sanshu's team really likes using grenades, huh? 

- Well, it does work pretty well! 

- See, Wu Xie, this is when you need to summon your bugs back

- On a completely different tangent, I cannot get over how weirdly the subs translate men you ping. I had to look up wtf shtum was. I've never come across it before. Is it something more commonly used in the US or something?

- Xiaoge, when you said you had a better way than digging under the door, I didn't think you meant just BATTERING THE FUCKING DOOR WITH THE SHOVEL 

- Oh, no, it's with your sword

- Because the best way to look after a sharp blade and keep it in good condition and keep a good edge is to...hack at rocks with it 

- Ofc 

- Why didn't I think of that? 

-  OK, ig fucking up your sword's edge did actually work, there's now a giant-ass hole in the door

- This is serious Day After Tomorrow vibes here

- Ah, yes, giant lightning strikes that cause so much force to travel through the earth that they can semi-collapse a tunnel deep underneath a mountain 

- Just your usual tomb robbing dangers 

- Physicists and meteorologists would have a fucking field day here

- Ah, I see we're at this level of the platform game 

- With the collapsing floor you need to get across without falling

- Okay, that's really kinda sweet of Wu Xie here. He thinks he's likely to die, and the most important thing to him is giving Xiaoge the pictures he took of him so that he doesn't lose all his memories 

- And aww, Xiaoge's so worried about him

- Like, I'm totally understanding why the transmigrated Wu Xie in that fic looked at these two and went "wow, we're so gay in this timeline" 

- Even the music in this scene is shipping it 

- Romantic line, and dramatic fall through the floor. Yep.

- I'm amazed he survived that fall, but it's Wu Xie, and he can't die 

- ...yes, ancient Persian architecture totally had anachronistic technology. Sure. This is definitely like that 

- omfg, they're statis chambers 

- 2000 year old stasis chambers

- Guess they're not worried about catching Sanshu and his team to get the key anymore. They've been kinda sidetracked 

- Side quests will do that 

- ...plant golems 

- "Don't shoot the thing that's in the process of murdering your friend! You might damage my research project!"

- Ew, that's not a nice death 

- Yes, good girl, A-Ning 

- That thing was just gonna kill your whole team otherwise 

- ...how did that laptop survive the blast enough for Wu Xie to be using it with no problem 

- That's one tough laptop 

- Where do I get one?

- And hey, I guess the one Chinese guy with A-Ning isn't actually one of her people, since she just, like, left him there 🤣 In the room with a plant golem 🤣 That she then threw a grenade into 🤣

 - ...omg, that's meant to be Pangzi?

- I was wondering why no Pangzi in the movie. I guess 3/4 of the way through isn't too late to properly intro him 

 - Ahahaha, Wu Xie actually thinks his bluff was super successful when there's a plant golem behind him 

- Xiaoge to the rescue again XD

- lol @ both Pangzi and Wu Xie using Xiaoge's sword as a restraint 

- ...surprise A-Ning! I wasn't expecting her to actually come back 

- And she's somehow lost all of her guys

- That's a lot of snakes, but I'm more interested in where all the water is coming from and why you can see the sun behind those shelves 

- Given how deep under a mountain they're supposed to be 

- I do love competent, pretty girls wielding huge fuckoff guns

- This door mechanism is so intricate (like the key/timer). So ofc I'm sure they're going to destroy it all 

 - Because that's how tomb raiding movies go

- Introduce a tomb with intricate and complex mechanisms far in advance of anything else known to that time period and civilisation, and then destroy them in dramatic fight and escape scenes 

- OMG the floor is lava 

 - Of course there's lava as well

- Oh, and it seems it's now all open to the sky 

- Ig the lightning which could mysteriously exert high levels of force must have smashed through the mountain and very neatly cleared it all way so that this part of the tomb and only this part of the tomb is now open air

- Wang Zanghai wishes he could go this extra with tomb building 

- And now Xiaoge being super extra to get across the destroyed section of the bridge 

- So this dude is gonna wake up just before Xiaoge gets there, isn't he? 

- And we're going to get an epic swordfight between them

- At least, it better be an epic swordfight 

- Otherwise this buildup will be very disappointing 

- Ah, yes, good, there we go 

- And all the plant golems are also waking up 

- ...along with a shitton of snakes 

- OMG the snakes have arms 

- The snakes 

- have arms

- OMG Xiaoge's sword is doing what now? 

- That's almost as ridiculous as the snakes with arms 

- It's like a sword designed by a 13 year old weeaboo boy

"it's gonna be ancient, and super strong, and nothing will ever make it blunt" 

"okay, seems like a typical magic sword so far, that's fair" 

"and you can bend it at right angles" 

"...you can what"

"and when it's bent at right angles, you can make it spin really fast and still use it like a proper sword" 

"...it what"

- ...the Snake Empress is reforming in her armour as thousands of little vines all coming together 

- k 

- Sure 

- This may as well happen 

- And her armour has boobplate, because ofc it does 

- Oh, she ain’t happy that Xiaoge just killed her plant golem boyfriend

- Her aesthetics are hilarious 

- It's part Queen of the Damned, part Little Shop of Horrors 

- Okay, snake lady, your worms might change the world but honestly I think that lightning would be more effective if you could control it

- Sanshu and co just randomly walk in through another entrance 

- Oh, and there's the rest of A-Ning's team

- I want the story behind this A-Ning and her team. The way they all call her captain, and follow her without a second word, and are so genuinely happy to see her. This isn't just a throw-together team, or a team that Hendrix put together and put her in charge of. This is her team, and there's an obvious history between them

- And snake lady is suddenly not looking as pretty as she was, for no discernible reason 

- One minute she's jumping around, the next she's all pale and falling apart. At least her face is 

- It's like she's decomposing throughout the fight

- And here come the snakes with arms 

- They move just as slowly as the shibie in here do 

- They jump pretty fast, though 

- RIP the next member of Sanshu's team 

- Yeah, machine guns aren't that effective against regular snakes, let alone magic snakes

- And the plant golems are here 

- RIP more of Sanshu's team 

- Ah, the little snakes with arms are all grown up and off to conquer the world

- ...omfg Pangzi 

- And this time it's A-Ning to the rescue 

- I love how quickly Wu Xie and Pangzi fall into the dynamic of a pair of clowns, regardless of adaptation

- RIP Harry. You went out like a badass 

- Oh wow, both teams are having some fucking epic sacrificial deaths in this fight scene 

- I like 

- And more cute pingxie, this time in flashbacks 

- lol, clearing out plant golem conversion by pure force of will

- ...and channeling blood down the grooves in the sword blade apparently...makes it sharper? 

- At least, it couldn't cut through the vines before, and now it can 

- That's not how magnetic fields work

- Ahahaha, Wu Xie pulling out his flute 

- He's gonna pull that Pied Piper shit again, isn't he? 

- Here come the shibie, come to nom on plant-snake-lady flesh! 

- She's having just as much trouble with them as everyone else does

- Because it's a lovely day in the tomb, and they are horrible shibie 

- Wow, she hits hard, she knocked Xiaoge like halfway across the chasm 

- Good thing there was a random broken pillar there

- Are they getting obliterated? 

- Ah, no, they're getting sucked up by the wind 

- Shibie-nado! 

- You know, I kinda like how bad Wu Xie's English is compared to everyone else who's spoken English so far 

- It nicely demonstrates who speaks it a lot and who doesn't

- Aw, Wu Xie, you're always so optimistic when you're baby 

- And it actually worked. I'm impressed. 

- Oh wow, A-Ning, that's some character development right there, caring about right or wrong instead of money

- Nice Pangi & A-Ning dynamic in this movie, given how they usually hate each other 

- This is definitely the final level of a platform game 

- Hahah, the two teams now 

- Awwwwwwww 😭

 - I think this is the first time I've seen Wu Xie rescue Xiaoge rather than vice versa 

- "I regret not locking you in the truck myself" 

 - Sorry, Xiaoge, I don't think you'd actually have much more luck with that than Sanshu did 

- Xiaoge, you really should have been more careful there, you almost did low Wu Xie 

- Good thing A-Ning was close by!

- ....the sword...is being used...as a boomerang 

- wtaf 

- Hahahah, the snakes' death throes, omg 

- lol what even was that ending

Overall: This movie was just one long DMBJ PingXie AU crackfic, and the author didn't know how to end it so just...didn't write an actual ending. That's the only way I can explain it. 

[iloveyou3thousand]

Bucky comes home from a road trip with a broken arm and his husband tony takes care of him.

Here you go! Short but sweet c:

——————————————————————————————

Tony looks Bucky up and down once, twice, and once more, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“You’re kidding me.”

Bucky pulls a face that’s somewhere between ‘I told you so’ and “oops? Sorry’ and Tony has to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“I can never leave you two alone. You go on one solo op, just the two of you, and you come back with…”

“A broken humerus?”

“A broken humerus.” Tony twines the fingers of both of his hands together and rests them against his mouth as if he’s trying his very best not to say anything besides that, and it’s proving difficult not to.

Especially when Bucky has his shoulders hunched like that, looking like he’s gone through hell and back, his hair tangled and whatever skin is exposed smudged with dirt and his clothes filthy and, here and there, even torn.

Bucky is looking more forlorn by the minute so Tony drops his hands and heaves a big sigh and holds out his hand.

“Alright then. At least it’s a common break. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.”

While Tony is exasperated with Bucky, he has the feeling that the last thing his husband needs right now is a firm talking to. It’s not like that’s going to help, anyway. Whenever Steve is around, Bucky has the tendency to get particularly reckless. It’s like they egg each other on.

Tony is careful not to jostle Bucky’s shoulder when he helps him out of his clothes, cutting away what won’t come off naturally and reassuring the other that it’s fine, they’ll have a new uniform ready for him in no time. He gets rid of the clothes entirely, figures it’s nothing salvageable anyway, and then sits Bucky down on the closed toilet lid while he runs the tap for warm water.

Bucky doesn’t complain while Tony cleans him with a washcloth, something that he could very well have done himself, but he likes it too much when Tony fusses over him. Besides, it feels nice when someone else does it.

When all the dirty smudges on his body are gone Tony takes a good look at him and brushes gentle fingers over the bruises blooming across his skin. Bucky grabs the man’s wrist with his good hand and brings it up so he can kiss at Tony’s knuckles and the palm of his hand. That always gets Tony to soften up and let go of that frustration Bucky knows he holds between his shoulders because he’s refraining from scolding Bucky for his stupidity.

“I’ve missed you,” Bucky purrs between kisses, lips lingering on the ring Tony is wearing, and it earns him a kiss to his brow.

“I’ve missed you too, dumbass. Now come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Finding a comfortable position to cuddle up in is difficult with Bucky’s arm in a sling. They’re grateful Bucky’s been administered some pretty damn good painkillers before he got to Tony, because otherwise they might not have fared so well in getting Bucky settled.

He’s propped up against some pillows, arm supported, and Tony plasters himself against Bucky’s good side. He shivers when Bucky’s metal arm curls around his back, but at least Bucky himself is plenty warm to make up for it.

“I’m tempted not to send you on any missions with Blondie anymore,” Tony murmurs against one of Bucky’s pecs.

“It could have been much worse, baby.”

“Don’t say that,” Tony groans because he knows what that means. He knows that is supposed to be reassuring but with the way Bucky says it, it makes him think that it should have been much worse, but that it wasn’t through sheer luck alone. Possibly some force of will, although even that feels unlikely. Bucky isn’t usually the reckless type unless it comes to the people he loves. Which is great – it just gets him into trouble a lot.

A broken arm is probably the least he’s suffered for his friends and family.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, and then tries a different angle.

“I love you.”

It works. Tony snuggles up closer, mindful of his injury and yet eager to bury himself into the warmth Bucky’s body is producing. They’ll watch a movie, get a good night’s sleep, and then in the morning Tony will make sure that some proper food is brought in for him.

Bucky might have only broken his arm, but that’s not going to stop Tony from nursing him back to health as if he’s broken every other bone in his body on top of that little humerus, and then some.

“Tony?” Bucky asks quietly when they’ve settled in and are both dozing off a little, when Tony is so comfortable that he’s barely managing to keep himself awake long enough to hum to tell Bucky he’s listening, and to hear him out.

“…Would now be a good time to tell you that I’ve lost my ring?”

[banashee]

Very fitting to it's part 1, this story was a case of "Just something short, sweet  and fluffy - oops, i spilled some Angst. Oh well." 

-

 Doing our best

 Tony wakes up enveloped in warmth. There are strong arms wrapped around him, making it impossible to move while hot, even breath is tickling his neck.

 He hums happily, cuddling closer into the source of blissful heat. There is another body in front of him, which is running just as hot and it just about lulls him back to sleep.

 Unfortunately though, after a few minutes of dozing, it moves away, leaving behind a flow of cool air that now creeps into Tony. An unhappy noise escapes him, and a gentle kiss to his forehead is what he gets in response.

 Agreeable, sure, but he’d rather keep both of his human heaters around, thank you very much. Especially since Clint has been hogging the blankets again, goddamnit.

 “Stay here.” Tony is slurring his words and tries to reach out to keep Phil from leaving the bed.  But he can’t move much, thanks to the cuddly octopus currently curled around him.

 It’s way too early in the morning, for anything really, but      someone     is an absolute fucking heathen that gets out of bed before dawn on a Saturday morning.

 Why, Phil? Just why.

 “Can’t, sorry. I have a meeting with Fury. Go back to sleep.” He really does sound like he regrets these circumstances, but there is nothing to be done about it. Still, he steps closer to the bed again.

 A hand is running through his dark, thick hair, scratching his scalp ever so gently. With a happy hum, Tony dozes off and adjusts his own grip around Clint’s arms that are still tightly wrapped around him. He didn’t stir once throughout the entire conversation.

 Only a few minutes later, Tony blinks awake again to the sound of water shutting off in the bathroom. Now that he woke, his bladder makes itself known. Damnit. He was hoping to stay asleep for a bit longer.

 Grumbling into his beard while Phil is getting dressed, Tony attempts to free himself from the Snuggle-Archer-Death-Grip.

 Slowly, he squirms out one of his arms. Then, he attempts to gently loosen the grip around him without waking the other man up. When he’s almost got it, Tony starts to wiggle away, only to be promptly pulled back into a tight hug like he is an overgrown teddy bear.

 A choked off noise escapes him, and Phil laughs quietly into the wool sweater that he’s currently pulling over his head. It’s cold outside, and if it was up to Phil, he’d be somewhere in that pile of limbs in their bed. No such luck for him today.

 Clint lets out a small, content sigh without waking up. He presses his face into the back of Tony’s shirt, poking him through the fabric with beard stubble and radiating more wonderful warmth.

 Normally, Tonywould love this. Right now though, he really needs to go to the bathroom. He glares in his other partner's direction when he finds himself effectively trapped in the arms of a man who refuses to give up his snuggle buddy.

 “Phil, help. Please.”

 “I believe this is what you signed up for, Honey.” Phil replies, still chuckling.

 He loves the mornings with his family, and having to leave doesn’t suit him at all.

 However, he is enjoying the banter an awful lot. It’s not like he hasn’t been on the receiving end of this particular brand of affection from Clint for over a decade. Phil would be lying if he said it wasn’t funny that he now gets to watch the whole spectacle instead of always being the one fighting a useless battle against his husbands sleepy octopus-tendencies.

 “I did.” Tony says, starting another, fruitless attempt to get out of bed, “But I didn’t remove my bladder in the process.” Once again, he tries to squirm out of the hug. Unsuccessfully so - he sighs with an eyeroll.

 “Which I’m starting to think would have been very useful.”

 “No idea what you’re talking about.” Still smiling, Phil steps closer to the bed and starts to rub the well muscled arms that are still slung around Tony in an attempt to wake up the affectionate octopus.

 Clint stirs a little bit at that, finally blinking one eye open under the touch. Then he loosens his grip, finally, but he does so for just as long as it takes to grab a handful of Phil and pull him right back to bed. Not a chance to move in the meantime for Tony, who is starting to accept that this is just his life now - suffering with a full bladder, but at least being buried in love.

 “Oof.” Phil ends up right on top of his two partners, legs hanging off of the bed. Tony is squashed under and in between the two of them, alternating between laughter and half hearted complaints while Clint just smirks, like the cat that got the cream.

 “Ah, yes. Perfect.” He’s not even kidding - this is his own personal heaven.

 “I love you both very much, but I’m afraid you’ll have to let me go.” Phil tries to reason, but half-awake Clint isn’t having any of his logic - he may not be able to make out the specific words, but he can be very sure of their sentiment. He gestures over to the bedside table where his hearing aids are sitting in a small dish.

 “No can do, can’t hear you, sorry. Did you say you’ll stay right there for the next three hours? Because I agree, that's what we should do.”

 “As much as I’d like to, no.”

 Phil shakes his head, and finger spells “m-e-e-t-i-n-g” just to be clear. All he gets is a nonchalant grumble, but then Tony senses his opportunity to finally get up. He simply pokes Clint in the side until he looks at him with one raised eyebrow.

 “Bathroom. Now.” Tony lets him know, and oh wonder of wonders, the archer lets him go. He’s disgruntled at the loss of both warm bodies in this bed, but then again, he is always disgruntled before coffee if he doesn’t get cuddled, so it’s nothing to be concerned about.

 Despite the danger of running late and against his better judgement, Phil flops back down into bed and lets Clint wrap himself around him just a little bit longer. He’s leaning into the touch, his nose is pressed into the sleep-warm skin of his partner's throat. Phil loves inhaling the familiar and comforting scent that’s been home to him for so many years now.

 Sometimes, it seems unbelievable that they can still have this, after everything that happened. But they still have their life, still have each other - and it’s only gotten better with the addition of another partner - another member in their small family.

 Phil sighs, unwilling to let go but mentally preparing for it - he’ll have to leave, soon. But he loves these small moments, and very much so. Their lives are busy - hence the evil force that are SHIELD meetings on a Saturday morning. Every small bit of comfort counts.

 A few minutes later, Phil forces himself to get up and heads towards work after kissing both Clint and Tony goodbye. He manages to convince Clint, who is almost asleep again, to let go of him - barely.

 Tony on the other hand, lets himself be pulled back into bed - it’s warm and contains one of his favourite people, so who is he to deny that invitation? He’s happy - so much happier than he thought he ever could be.

 This is how their day starts out.

 It’s how many days start out for them now, and time really flies so fast, it catches all of them off guard when they find that it’s been almost a year since Clint and Phil opened their marriage to welcome Tony into their relationship as an additional partner.

 Sometimes, it seems too good to be true when they think back of how they even ended up here.

 Their way there has been long and oftentimes painful, especially while Phil was presumed dead. Neither of them like to think or talk about this very much - it just hurts, brings back too many memories and dark thoughts.

 They really don’t need that, on top of everything else.

 Instead, they try to make the most of their days now. However much or little they see each other, they will always find ways to make time for each other - even if it’s a video call when they’re scattered around the world due to work reasons.

 This particular Saturday in October starts out lazy and warm, but when the coffee is almost finished, the tell-tale alarm sounds through the entire tower, and JARVIS announces that there is a call to assemble. There is barely time to shut off the stove and coffee machine, then they run to suit up.

 15 minutes later, the team scrambles into the jet and then they take off.

 “What are we even dealing with?” asks Clint from the cockpit as he does what needs to be done to get them to their destination as quickly as possible.

 “We’re not sure yet, but it’s huge and it’s currently busy with tearing large buildings down into chunks.”

 There is a joke at the tip of his tongue, but Steve shakes his head, looking concerned.

 “There are still civilians in the area.” he adds, and that takes every last bit of humor out of the situation.

 Civilians in close distance to disaster points are never a good thing. One would think that the situation itself would be bad enough, but unfortunately, panicking people are even more likely to hurt themselves or each other. It’s never an easy job, and they can only hope that they’ll be able to prevent the worst.

 The way isn’t far, but the destruction is immense by the time they get there.

 It takes the Avengers most of the day to contain the threat - a giant tentacle mutation, which is terrifying enough on it’s own. Buildings are torn down all around. There is dust and debris everywhere, as well as smudges of blood.

 Dead bodies are in the streets, and scared groups of people are cowering in small corners, desperately trying to hide away. Getting those people to safety is one part of the mission - the other is, trying to contain the tentacle monster.

 None of them have ever seen this particular type of monster before - they don’t know where it’s come from, who is responsible for it or anything really. But one thing is obvious after a while: it is scared.

 Something has scared this thing out of its mind, bad enough to cause so much hurt and destruction. This much is obvious now, but the Avengers are not sure what they can do to help it.

 “Take it down!” is the simple order from the beginning of the day, but the thought makes Clint sick now.

 He is pretty sure that if they knew a way to help, killing this thing wouldn’t be necessary. In a way, he is very much reminded of Hulk - scared, angry, misunderstood.  And look at where he’s now. With time and patience, so much is possible. But time is a luxury they don’t have right now, and people are dying.

 Finally, when Clint manages to get a clear path, he lines up an arrow. He hits the mark, but none of his non-lethal shots bring the creature down. On the contrary, it only scares it more, makes it even angrier and therefore, it lashes out again.

 Cursing out loud, Clint jumps across the rooftop to avoid getting caught by one of the swinging tentacles. Another building is down, and with it more people. Any more death and destruction is on him now, Clint knows.

 He hates these kinds of missions. He hates hurting and killing where he should help, but the safety of the people is what makes him choose to aim differently now.

 When he gets another clear shot, he doesn’t waste any time.

 The arrow hits it’s target - right into the heart of the tentacle coloss. It goes down with a high pitched, animalistic scream and then remains motionless on the ground. One of its many eyes rolls around, and it stops as if to stare right at Clint, accusing and full of fear and hurt while the last bits of life fade away from it.

 People are cheering in the distance, celebrating the defeat.

 Clint hates himself a little more - he knows, there was no way around it. But he can’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

 He turns away from the scene with his head hanging low and his teammates quietly join his side.

 Despite the people around them celebrating the death of the mutated coloss, the team knows better - Clint has told them, as soon as he saw right through the behavior and patterns. They did their best, trying to save everyone, the so-called monster included.

 But it didn’t work out this time, and on the way home, the inside of the jet is quiet enough to hear a needle drop.

 By the time they arrive back at the tower, the sun has gone down entirely, leaving the autumn sky  dark and covered in thick, gray clouds. Of course, just when the team makes their way from the jet on the rooftop to the inside, the sky breaks open and starts pouring rain.

 The small, dramatic streak in Clint notes that it is quite fitting for the day, although he won’t say it out loud.

 Today has started out so beautifully, but then everything had to go to shit.

 It started out with so much love and affection, and now they’re covered in blood. Even more fitting, the rain soaks through them in a matter of seconds, despite the way from the jet to the door not being far at all.

 None of them has said much the entire time since the battle, and instead of throwing one of the “We’re still alive”-parties or just pile in the living room together, everyone wanders off either alone or with another person to go and lick their wounds in peace.

 Even Tony is unusually quiet as he walks back to the shared apartment with one arm around Clint, who in turn has one wrapped around the smaller man’s waist. Both of them are exhausted - this mission has taken a lot out of all of them, and there are plenty of things to talk about - but not right now.

 Right now, they make their way inside to ditch the dirty clothes and shower as hot as humanly possible without causing burns.

 A small post-it note on the door lets them know that Phil knows they’ve had to head out and also that he has been called out with SHIELD shortly after arriving back home. Hopefully, he should be back sometime that same night, he lets them know.

     “Hope you’re safe out there    ” the note ends in Phils neat and even handwriting, next to a lopsided heart.

 Seems like all of them have had a long day - the apartment is dark, which means that Phil is probably still out.

 Quietly and in agreement, they make their way to the bedroom. Clothes fall, slowly one after the other, and for a little while, they just stand there, holding each other.

 Skin on skin contact feels nice. It feels comforting, like a piece of home. Minutes tick by, and when the chilly air leaves them shivering and with goosebumps all over, they part with a quick but passionate kiss.

 There is sadness radiating off of both of them, and they make their way into the large bathroom.

 “Are you okay?” Clint asks quietly, stopping in his tracks as he is about to take out his hearing aids to avoid getting them wet. One of his hands is circling Tony’s waist, and the other man nods. He looks bone tired while he does so.

 “Yeah, I am. Not great, but… Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

 “We did what we could.” Clint says, leaning his forehead against Tony for a bit. Maybe, someday, he’ll start to believe it himself.

 “We did. It still sucks.” he says, pulling Clint into another hug. “But it’s not your fault, okay? So stop that, I know this look.”

 Clint huffs a little laugh, despite everything. “Pot, meet kettle.”

 Tony smiles back, a sad little movement, but doesn’t say anything else. After that, Clint turns to take out his aids, and then the two of them step into the large shower with various sprays of steaming hot water.

 One perk of the tower is it’s huge and luxurious bathrooms. There is more than enough space to fit a shower large enough for three or four people, a bathtub with another shower and even a whirlpool in the corner. It seems excessive - but that’s Tony for you.

 Right now though, being able to share the room in silence to wash off the grime, blood and stress of the day is a godsent.

 Quickly, the room fills with steam, fogging up every surface around them. They stay close the entire time, washing each other's hair and in turns and lean into the gentle hands massaging foam into the scalp. It’s quiet and intimate, and after days like this, there is nothing sexual about the shared shower.

 This is about being close, seeking comfort as much as giving it.

 By the time they dry off and get dressed again, the lights flicker on and off - which means that somebody entered the apartment. Clint can’t hear any noises, but Tony perks up. He signs Phil’s name over to Clint with a small smile, and despite everything, he can’t help but return it.

 “Go ahead, Love. I’ll join you both in a minute.”

 Clint can’t hear the sound of his own voice, but he cannot deny that his throat feels scratchy, even more so than before. He’s not sure how bad he sounds, but Tony looks at him with concern and asks,

 “You sure?”

 A nod. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Won’t be long.”

 With another look and a hand running down his back, Tony nods at him. Before turning around and opening the door, he holds out one hand, palm pointing forwards, middle- and ring finger touching it and the others stretched out.

 ‘I love you.’

 ‘I love you, too.’  

 Leaving him right now doesn’t feel right - it never does in moments like this. But Tony knows Clint for long enough and most of all well enough to recognize the need to be alone for a little bit when things get hard. Hell, he knows the feeling from himself all too well.

 As long as they know the options of help and company are always there, it’s all good. All three of them make sure they’ll always keep the lines of communication open. It’s how they work out, after all.

 So, Tony heads out of the room and does so just in time to meet Phil in the living room.

 “Oh, hey. You’re back.”

 They come together in the middle of the room to embrace one another. The hug lasts a beat longer than usual.

 “Everything okay?” Phil asks, immediately picking up on the mood.

 “Mission sucked - well, that’s the short version, anyway.” Tony sighs unhappily, lightly scratching the exposed bit of skin in between Phil’s collar and the back of his hair. Then, he explains as quickly as possible what happened - the monster attacking, people dying and them being unable to help. Them having to kill a scared creature for the safety of everyone else.

 “Clint is still in the bathroom.” he adds, “Didn’t talk much. He’s feeling responsible for this whole thing.”

 Quietly, Phil nods. He isn’t surprised in the slightest - situations like this are never easy, especially for people like Clint who blame themselves for just about everything that ever went wrong.

 “What about you?” Phil asks. He knows just how much Clint and Tony are alike in this - shouldering the weight of the world and taking all the blame when it doesn’t work out. It’s how they are, and letting go of this habit is pretty much a lost battle.

 “Not great, but not as bad. Wasn’t me who had to kill this poor thing.” Tony cringes. “Ah fuck. Sounds wrong when I say it like that. Sorry.”

 Phil squeezes him a little bit tighter for a moment.

 “Not your fault. And it’s not Clint’s fault, either.”

 “Yeah, okay. You tell him that.”

 “Absolutely.”

 By the time they have ordered food and piled several blankets on the couch, Clint finally emerges out of the bedroom. He looks worn out, and about as bad as he probably feels right now.

 “Hold the Fuck-Up” he says, draping himself over the back of the couch to hug both Tony and Phil, burying his face in the latter man’s neck.

 “Hold up, what?”

 “I’m the Fuck-Up. Hold me.” He’s aiming for a joking tone of voice, but it’s missing the mark. Cringing when he notices, he adds, “You okay, Phil? You’ve been out for just as much.”

 Turning his head slightly to be able to kiss him, he leans close in an attempt to comfort.

 “I’m okay, just tired. Get over here, huh? Dinner is on the way, we have a bit of time until then.”

 Humming instead of answering, Clint unwraps himself from his partners to step around the couch. Both of them scoot over to the sides to make space for him in between them. Gladly, Clint settles down there and all of them shift until all three of them are lengthwise on the sofa. Phil has stretched out there, and Clint is resting on top of him, pressing as close as possible.

 Tony climbs on top of his back, legs wrapped around him and arms dangling down. His fingers are running over arms, shoulders, necks - anything he can reach. Tony has always been a tactile person. He’s almost constantly touching or fidgeting with something, or someone. Having not one but two people he can be close to at any time is simply wonderful. It hits him sometimes, how much he loves them.

 Then, Tony pulls one of the thick woolen blankets over all of them to cocoon them in a blissfully warm nest of body heat and loved ones.

 One of Phil’s hands ends up as a solid weight on his own back, the other starts playing with the slightly damp strands of Clint’s hair pillowed on his chest.

 “I’m sorry this happened. It’s not your fault.”

 “Feels like it.”

 “It’s really not. You guys did what you could.”

 Since the statement is met with silence, Phil asks,

 “Do you want to talk?” but a slight shake of head is the only answer.

 “That’s okay.” They kiss, and they wrap their hug even tighter.

 “I love you, very much.”

 “You, too.” Clint says, and just as quietly adds, “Both of you.”

 A small smile lingers on the corners of his mouth when the statement is met with Phil holding him closer, and with Tony pressing a kiss to his neck before he puts his face back into the warm spot on Clint’s back that he loves nuzzling into.

 The day has been long, tiring and emotional, so it doesn’t take long for the three of them to doze off. Pressed close to each other and buried in familiar body parts that feel like they were made for each other, things look just a tiny bit lighter on the horizon.

 Outside, the wind and rain pick up again, plattering against the windows in an even rhythm. The electric fire in the chimney adds to the cozy feeling, with it’s flickering light that’s illuminating the otherwise half dark room.

[imagine-lumpygrab]

I see you reblogged a writing prompt list so if possible may I request... Number 3 for angst or number 14 for fluff... Take your pick whatever inspires you more

Surprisingly, in spite of my natural leaning towards fluff, I was inspired by the angst prompt: “Why are you awake right now?”

It did turn into fluff after a while though, so... oops :D

––––––––––––––––

The Storm Cloud

(for @charliecharlo)

The city full of lemonpeople was very quiet during most nights. Most citizens of the earldom had similar sleep patterns and went to sleep at the same time, after all, but there were exceptions. A small boy in a house on the outskirts was finishing up his new sculpture. Elsewhere, a mother of two was checking on her children (who she’d planted, grown and raised herself, mind you) for the last time before going to bed.

Just like the city, the castle towering over it was, too, very quiet. The earl of Lemongrab himself, though, was wide awake, and the longer he stayed awake, the more suffocating the silence around him seemed to be. He’d grown accustomed to being around people in these last few months, he spent some time with Fern after they both got candified, he appointed several meetings with princess Bubblegum in an attempt (made on both sides) to fix both their personal relationships and ties between the kingdom and the earldom, and he was planning a small reunion tour with a music band his first predecessor used to be in, The Unacceptables. So far he’d only texted with them but tomorrow they had a band meeting planned and he wandered how it would go.

Would they even come? Weren’t like two of them dead? What are they going to say about him being dead for a while?

As the night progressed, he decided to at least be productive if his anxieties wouldn’t let him sleep. He could try and write a new song, at least he’d have an offering for the band meeting. So, not really knowing if there was even anything to write, he took a small notebook and a pencil he kept in his nightstand’s drawer and ventured out into his castle. Wherever he went, gentle light of lanterns appeared seemingly out of nowhere, lit up by the servants living in the walls. On other nights, he had a tendency to notice a small delay as those in charge of night lights were only starting their shift and he would probably tell them to be more responsible when on duty, but tonight he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had more important stuff to overthink.

Finally, he settled with sitting down to the empty dining table in one of the biggest rooms in the castle. He remembered Lemongrab the Second’s proposal of getting rid of it and turning the hall into a ballroom once. He also remembered Lemongrab the First’s hesitant agreement, as the “original” earl of Lemongrab didn’t particularly like the crowds at the time. Later, the idea almost turned into a fully planned project when the older brother started a band and grew to love the attention their fans showered them with.

So ironic that he’d been destroyed by music only months later, along with his clone.

Lemongrab shuddered, at times he could swear to have heard Lemonhope’s harp again, echoing through his home, through his mind, soft melody piercing him and tearing him apart bit by bit. It took a while after he was stitched together to muster up the courage to start listening to any sort of music again, and whenever there was a harp in the room he needed desperately to be anywhere else. Thank Glob most people who knew him understood that.

He tapped the flat end of his pencil against a blank page of the notebook. What did he feel like writing about?

His mind went blank.

Now that he had decided to write something, he didn’t know how to start.

Any given word he could think of felt wrong.

He couldn’t even start the first verse.

“Well this is annoying,” he spoke out loud, partly to fight against the silence wreathing around him, but that only seemed to draw it closer to his skin, embracing and crushing him, why did it feel like that, why did the silence feel so… tangible? Why wasn’t he asleep, he should be asleep, was it bad that he wasn’t asleep? Was he doing something wrong? Was something wrong with him – again??

Lemongrab gripped the pencil tighter and shut his eyes tight. His annoyance slowly but surely morphed into something else, something darker, anger, most likely. Yes, that was it, anger was the right word. He had survived the end of the world and he survived the elemental powers of Ooo getting out of hand and he had survived his own death, why did it feel like he shouldn’t have, why did he feel like he was doing everything wrong, what was the meaning of this?!

A tap on his shoulder wrenched him out of the panicky state he was slowly succumbing to. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was pressing his forehead against the blank paper and the pencil he held was moments away from snapping in half.

Next to him was standing one of the servants who lived in the walls. He was holding Lemongrab’s phone, which was at the moment buzzing. The name on the screen made him sigh in relief: it was Lumpy Space Princess. Just the person he needed to talk to. She’d recently movies back to the Lumpy Space for her official coronation and to deal with paperwork and administration related to the process, and even though they called each other all the time, it couldn’t quite compensate for her absence.

Trying to compose himself as to not sound like he just almost had a mental breakdown, he took the phone and picked up. “Hi–”

“Why are you awake right now?” his girlfriend’s voice came through, sounding a little scolding and more than a little worried.

The question caught him off-guard. He squinted his eyes in confusion: “How… how do you even know I’m awake?”

He heard her make the quiet “psh” scoff she made whenever she was about to state the obvious. “Well, you don’t sound like you’d just woken up. You sound like you’ve been up and about for a while before you picked up the phone.” She paused for a second and then added: “Also Bubblegum texted me saying she saw light in your castle with one of her new drones.”

Lemongrab sighed. Of course she did. “That’s mother princess for you, I guess,” he mumbled while standing up from the desk and walking over to a window, trying to spot the drone. He saw nothing, however. Either it was far away or gone already, but it didn’t help his mood any.

“Yeah.. but she cares, LG,” LSP offered, trying to soothe his annoyance. “I think she’s just been on edge since experiencing the actual end of the world and her own family declaring war on her.”

“I’ve been on edge too!” Lemongrab exclaimed, throwing his hands up even though she couldn’t see the gesture. “And you don’t see me stalking the candy people! …not anymore at least.” He groaned, the lack of sleep was getting to him and princess Bubblegum spying on him, even if from afar, was only worsening his already fragile state.

And even if she was in a completely different realm at the moment, he knew LSP could tell he wasn’t feeling well. “Lemongrab, why don’t you tell me what’s keeping you up?”

“You should be sleeping too, though.”

“Eh, I’d spent the next three hours watching cat videos, talking to you is always cooler. Now, what’s on your mind? Spill it.”

So, he decided to spill it. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d write a song for the band meeting tomorrow, but instead I had a meltdown, I think.”

“What?!”

“I’m fine now though!” he rushed to assure her, but it didn’t seem convincing even to him. Is he really fine? He didn’t feel fine. But he didn’t want her to worry, either.

“I know you don’t want me to worry,” she spoke up, and for half a second he wondered (not for the first time) if lumpy space people could read minds. “But you know it helps to talk about stuff.”

He let go of the pencil, giving up on song-writing. Obviously, his muse decided to evade him for the evening. Instead he wrapped his free arm around himself in an attempt to chase away the impending feeling of loneliness. How could he feel so alone when all around him there were the lemon citizens and how could he feel like he was missing more than a few pieces when he was out together with more pieces than he dared to count? How could he feel so…

“Wrong,” he admitted to her. “I feel wrong.”

She kept silent. She knew there was more to it.

He continued, if only to protect himself against the silence. Also because he really wanted her to know. He wanted her to understand, and he knew she would. She always did. “I was… I was okay earlier today, I was okay yesterday, I was okay a week ago, but tonight I feel horrible, I feel stupid and I hate everything.” Mostly myself, he didn’t say out loud. “And I feel wrong for being annoyed and tired and angry when I don’t have anything in particular to be so annoyed and tired and angry for, you know?”

“Oh, baby,” she said softly. She desperately wanted to be there, to hug him and kiss him and hold him until he fell asleep. But she couldn’t. So she settled for the next best thing. “Most people have these intrusive thoughts from time to time, that we’re somehow broken. Let’s face it, most of us are. But that’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Scars and imperfections show that you’ve lived. Having a writer’s block is normal, and being in a horrible mood from time to time is normal too. You know, I really miss you, and sometimes I catch myself lashing out at mom and dad because of it. But I think they know I’m just irritated, because they’re always chill about it.”

Lemongrab couldn’t help but smile a little. He did have an opportunity to meet her parents already and they were the sweetest people he’d met in a while. And as much as she tried to act cool and tough, LSP had proven to him on numerous occasions that she could be just as sweet. Like now. Now, she was making him feel better. “I love you,” he informed her, because even if it was out of nowhere, it just… seemed appropriate.

“I love you too,” she responded and he could almost see her gentle smile. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? You’re strong, I’ve seen it, I know it. But even the strongest people have to take breaks. What I’m trying to say is, if you can’t write anything, don’t force yourself into it. Go hang out with the camel or the pegasus if you still don’t feel sleepy,” she offered.

He was about to follow her advice, honestly, why not? He told her once how the second earl came up with that idea a while ago and Lemongrab still spent time in his stable sometimes when he was feeling down. He suspected he wasn’t the only lemoncreature to do so, too.

But his eyes wandered down to the table, and the notebook, and the pencil, and he blinked. And just like that, the exact words he was searching for popped into his head. “Wait, stop,” he spoke up to interrupt LSP as she was still trying to think of more stuff to calm him down. “What rhymes with ‘us’?”

She hummed, pondering the sudden question before answering: “Maybe ‘thus’?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, setting the phone down and catching the pencil like a hawk snatching up its prey. “Yeah, that’ll work!”

“What, what will work?” Her voice was laced with excitement as she realized: “Did you get an idea for a song??? Oh my Glob am I your new muse? I’m a totally awesome muse.”

“Hold on for a second.”

“Sorry, I’ll stop talking. Write your heart out.”

And as he wrote the lyrics down verse after verse, he believed he might have done just that. When finished, he read the lyrics back to LSP and the sheer excitement in her voice as she gushed about how wonderful his work was melted away his remaining discomforts.

“It’s not exactly our band’s genre…”

“It’s not set in stone, you can come back to it later. Or make it the special song for the end of the night, you know, a goodbye song after a good concert. Whatever you do with it, it’s gonna be awesome,” she assured him. “Am I right or am I right?”

He grinned. “Both.” Just then, he let out a yawn.

“Aha! I heard that! You’re going to bed right now, mister!” she said half-jokingly.

He chuckled softly and complied. For whatever reason, he suddenly felt like he could doze off right then and there, but he’d done that a few times before and when Bubblegum found out, she scolded him for hurting his back that way.

Before settling back into his bed, Lemongrab wished LSP a good night and thanked her for being there for him. She replied with a smug “always, my dearest lemonboy,” and hung up shortly after.

And before he fell asleep, a melody of the song he’d just come up played softly in his mind, for once bringing not bad memories, but a sense of ease and warm, gentle embraces.

Little drops of blue

Keep falling down and touching you

It’s the sky weeping

Over the tragedy you’ve been through

Little broken heart

Keeps getting ripped and torn apart

No ugly strings of yours

Can fix what never had to start

Little broken us

The rain will keep on weeping thus:

“Go touch the strings now”

And ugly turns vibrant, just because.

Little drops of blue

Keep falling down as I kiss you

It’s the sky weeping

Over the truth that I love you.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Thank you, love! Can I please have a double ship? I’m a fat bottomed girl who is a tomboy - I’m not into typical “girly” stuff and I love hanging around with boys discussing politics, sports (I’m a huge sports nerd), listening to metal. I love war movies and am interested in history (WWII especially) though I’m studying Journalism. I also don’t like wearing skirts or dresses or heels. I’m a loyal friend who will always be there to listen and help you. I’m very clumsy and often trip over my feet.

Sssssssshello fellow sports fan (i’m not even joking even though that sounds so nerdy) so what do u think about the kc royals i know they suck ass but like.... im so dedicated to my boys and i’ve seen them kick the yankees ass at yankee stadium (FUCK YOU JOE MAZZELLO)

ships r below the cut sjkdfjkds

For BoRhap, I ship you with Joe Mazzello!

For obvious reasons - I mean, a girl that’s into sports and is extremely loyal? Joey Mazz would bus a nutttt

Anyways, you’d probably meet Joe while doing some work as a sports journalist. Deciding against the box seat that you usually took during a Yankee’s game for focus reasons, you opted to sit down with the public in the stands, and you got seated next to Joe.

Joe was respectable enough for most of the game - once he got a bit loose on the juice, though, he had some mouthy tendencies, and every last word was directed angrily at the officials. 

At one point, he was so angry that you couldn’t hold in your laughter as you kept book, missing a tally for a ball but not caring too much as you stared in amazement at the fiery copper-headed man beside you. His double-black Yankees hat fell off of his head as he stood abruptly, and you took your boot-clad feet off of the seat in front of you as you leaned down to grab it for him. 

“Fucking terrible call! That was in the strike zone, that ump is full of shit,” he muttered as he sat back down in a huff, pausing before getting a curious look on his face and starting to search for his hat.

“Looking for this?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice, and Joe’s attention snapped over to you, recognition immediately flooding his eyes as he smiled gratefully and took the hat.

“Thanks a ton, I just can’t stand those damn umps sometimes.” Looking down at the stat book on your tablet, he raised an eyebrow in inquiry before pulling his hat back on his head. “Keeping book for anything special?”

“I work for the New York Post. Sports columnist,” you explained, locking your screen to save battery after a strike was finally called and the fourth inning came to a close. Joe made a ‘not bad’ face, then gave you a grin.

“So, Yankees fan?”

“Uh, you know it,” you scoffed, nodding as you looked out to the field and smiled before making eye contact with him again. He had a kind gaze, you noted, and his smile was just as evident in his eyes as it was in his actual smile. “Wouldn’t miss a game for the world. Not even that exhibit on Governor’s right now.” You felt your stomach flipping a bit, Joe watching you very intently and almost intimidating you with how genuinely invested he was in what you had to say.

“The World War II one?” Joe inquired, and he chuckled when you made a positive noise in response. “I was in a show about WWII a couple years ago. Maybe you’ve heard of it? The Pacific?”

“That was you?” you gasped, involuntarily reaching out and grabbing his arm. Although the both of you registered it, you awkwardly decided not to say anything and just continued talking, Joe trying to mask his reaction at the tingly feeling your touch left on his arm. “Holy shit, I loved that show! I didn’t even recognize you.” Laughing, you let go of his arm and just paused for a moment, recalling how excited you’d been about that miniseries.

“Yeah, not my biggest claim to fame, but definitely up there. Still doesn’t get me recognized at baseball games, though. I got that more in the 90′s.”

“The 90′s - you must have been a baby!” you teased, in disbelief that he was any older than 25. There was no way he was anything but a toddler back in the 90′s.

“God, the closer I get to my 30s, the more that excites me,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I was a little more than a baby back then. I was a whole, grown kid.”

“Grown kid - what a paradox,” you scoffed, giving him a gentle eye roll as a few people around you chuckled at something. “Alright, I’ll bite - in the 90′s, what were you in?”

“Would you believe me if I said some commercials and that was it?” Pursing your lips, you gave him an unmoved look and he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. You were surprisingly adorable despite the currently deadpan expression. In fact, he was beginning to like all of your expressions, and all of your mannerisms. You were pretty laid-back for a woman of your age - like you were comfortable not putting up a front around him and men in general. “I was in Jurassic Park.”

“No way!” you gasped, thinking back to the movie and vaguely remembering a little boy around your age that had resembled him. “Oh my god, all I remember about it is that I wanted to be your friend... and I had an embarrassingly big crush on Jeff Goldblum.”

“Oh god, me too,” Joe agreed, waving a hand dismissively at the thought that anyone didn’t feel things for Jeff Goldblum.

Some faint laughter and shifting glances around you suddenly distracted you from your intense conversation with Joe, and you looked around for a moment before groaning and shielding your eyes at the jumbotron, trying not to laugh. “We’ve been called out.”

Joe looked at the large screen to see the both of you with a superimposed timer beneath you, dubbed the “Oblivious Cam.” You’d both been so invested in the conversation, they’d nearly been timing you for a minute by the time you realized. Waves of embarrassment washed over the two of you as you realized everyone in the stadium had watched what you had assumed was a mainly private interaction. Suddenly, the hand on the arm thing was mortifying.

“Well, at least we look good,” Joe offered, waving to the camera and shrugging before they kicked it off, going into the fifth inning. Joe was right, he did look damn good. And the fact that he thought you looked good too, despite your lack of commonplace women’s wear around a baseball game (see: tight-fitting unbuttoned jerseys, short shorts, heels, etc.). You’d shown out in some jeans and a ratty jersey you’d had since God knows when, with some combat boots to pull it all together. And he still thought you looked good.

He very much did. He thought you looked so good, in fact, that he took you out for drinks after the game. And then sitting down with the public became a regular occurrence for you - even though Joe wasn’t at every game, he showed up to far more games than he would have regularly, just so he could see you. But he’d never admit that, not even up to the day that he asked you out.

Which, of course, you’d been floored - men usually don’t ask out one of the boys. But you said yes, of course! And a couple months later, when he offered to fly you out to California to see the baseball movie he’d been working on about his brother, you jumped at the opportunity.

Mainly because it was an away time for Yankees.

Oops.

When you showed up on set with Joe, the cast immediately welcomed you as one of their own, and you took up residence in the bleachers/near the fence, psyched to see what they were working on for the day and also stoked because you’d probably become an extra because of this appearance. Acting credits on top of journalism? Score.

Today was the day they were filming Pat’s breakdown, and you were excited to see just how riled up Joe could get as you leaned against the admittedly searing-hot chain-link fence. Between takes, Toby, who’d taken quickly to befriending you, came over in all his English glory to visit with you about the upcoming shots.

“You ready to see Spaz Mazz?” he joked, making you laugh at the corny nickname as you nodded, letting go of the chain-link for a moment.

“Absolutely. I’ve seen Joe at baseball games, so can’t wait to see who he absolutely rails today.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, because it’s me,” Toby chuckled, fixing his hat as Joe caught sight of the two of you, smiling and waving before going back to whatever directorial duties he was working on. Waving back, Toby sighed melodramatically before turning to you. “He yells at quite a few of us, but in the table-read, he really let me have it in this scene. The struggles of being the fun one,” he lamented, making you roll your eyes and wish him good luck as Joe called for the next shot to start.

And in a few moments, you saw exactly what Toby meant. Well, not saw. You just got to listen as Joe absolutely went off on Manny’s character in the dugout, a gleeful laugh leaving your lips as you heard him threaten to shove a bat up Zapata’s ass, then yelling at Palacco for shitting away his talent. After the more emotional part, you burst out laughing when a sudden, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Zapata!” rang in your ears.

Covering your mouth quickly, you resorted to just grinning while you listened to them methodically reconstruct the scene over and over, taking several shots in the mid-afternoon heat before deciding to call it since the lighting was waning, not providing for the right time of day for the shot that was slotted next.

Joe was one of the last to finally filter off the field, finding you immediately and giving you a mildly-tired grin as he wrapped his arm around you, walking off towards the parking lot with you. 

“Toby said Seb’s in town and wants to meet up for dinner with Chace and us. You hungry?”

“Starving,” you affirmed, leaning against him a bit as you climbed up the hill. “That was an... interesting performance. You sound a little hoarse.”

“Yelling all day can wear a guy out,” he agreed with a small chuckle, pulling out his keys to his rental and stopping in front of the car to just stand with you for a moment. The eye-black on his cheeks was smeared from sweat, his hair a mess, and you could definitely tell he was slouching a bit, tired from the day’s proceedings.

But he still was smiling down at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back before leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into an affectionate kiss, which he eagerly reciprocated. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting dangerously low on your back, but not enough to raise alarms, and you grinned against his lips before pressing a gentle peck to the lower one, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear.

“I like the baseball pants look on you.”

A throaty chuckle escaped his mouth and he gave you one last kiss before wrapping an arm around your waist and ushering you to the passenger seat, letting you open the door and start climbing in yourself before he swiftly reached out and pinched your ass, closing the door for you with an innocent grin on his face when you shot him a warning look.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he defended when he climbed into the driver’s seat after a few moments. “You brought up butts and you know yours is my favorite butt.”

“I’m glad,” you laughed, shaking your head as you watched him start the car, sucking your lower lip into your mouth for a moment before grinning mischievously. “But I wasn’t talking about your butt, though that was nice too.”

Joe’s eyes lit up at your statement, a light flush filling his cheeks as he wrestled with what you’d just suggestively implied. Looking over to you, his jack went slightly slack, and all he could manage was a soft “Oh.”

“Smooth, babe. Real smooth.”

“You caught me off guard, come on!”

And for Queen, I ship you with Brian May!

We all know that Brian struggled with being raised as a rather womanly boy, so your more masculine personality equals out beautifully with his feminine tendencies. In categories where he lacks a masculine touch, you make up for that absence, and when you have issues with a feminine touch, he’s right there to help you along.

Synergy!

Plus, heart eye emoji at the fact that you’re a fat-bottomed girl.

Anyways, I think you and Brian would be lifelong friends. The tall ol’ softie never would have survived high school without his loyal best friend, you, to guide him through that emotional rollercoaster.

But I really don’t think you’d have a crush on him at first. I think he’d be absolutely smitten with you from the get-go - you were his rock, the only person to ground him when he got too high-strung. But because of his tendencies to be high-strung and eternally confused, you never saw him as more than a close friend.

That is, until one night that you were hanging out with him and the boys, and Roger had you caught up in a particularly in-depth conversation about Black Sabbath’s eponymous album that had been released recently. 

Roger was your go-to for anything metal related, which made Brian only slightly jealous as he watched the two of you intensely discuss whether you appreciated the blues notes that they brought to some of the songs on the album. 

“I think The Wizard is the most genius one out of all of them!” Roger gushed, and you nodded in agreement as you listened to him start to ramble on about how much he loved the song. Always the listener, you only let your eyes roam for a brief moment, pausing when you saw Brian just past Roger’s scruffy golden-brown hair.

When he caught your eye, he sent you a small smile and a brief eye roll about Roger’s rants that made you grin, and you quickly looked back to Roger as he summarized his opinion, finally. “I agree, but what about N.I.B? You can’t tell me that it isn’t up there on the quality list.”

When Roger began to dissent against your opinion, you quickly excused yourself to go grab another drink and left him to simmer, instead making your way to the kitchen and pouring yourself the rest of the whiskey as Brian entered.

“Sounds like you guys had some really important stuff to discuss,” Brian observed as he pouted slightly at the empty whiskey bottle, instead fetching himself a beer.

“I love Roger, but he could talk my ear off if I didn’t learn when to say no.” Chuckling, your lanky friend joined you at your side and leaned back against the counter, opening his beer while you took a sip of the whiskey in your cup. He watched as your nose just barely wrinkled compared to the way that his scrunched up after every sip of straight bourbon, and admiration quickly overtook his features, not able to slip away fast enough when you looked up at him.

“What?” you laughed, cocking your head a bit when he smiled at you oddly, sitting his beer on the counter. “I know I left my flat in a hurry, but do I really look that rough today?”

“No, no,” he stammered, laughing nervously as he looked forward to observe your friends out in the living room. His heart was racing, and he feared that you could hear it from that close as he swallowed hard, speaking again. “Far from it.”

That brought a slight blush to your cheeks, and you looked forward as well, your brain racing a million miles a minute as you tried to calm down. Brian usually never made you this flustered, so it was confusing to you that such a simple comment could spike your heart rate so easily. What happened?

Looking over to him again, you desperately tried to work out what was different about Brian now versus every other time he’d made an offhanded flirtatious comment all throughout your childhood. He was still looking at the living room, his eyes brimming with something unreadable, and you realized how much he’d grown from the spindly little straight-haired preppy boy you’d grown up with. 

Now he was even taller in multiple ways - of course, his height had shot up, but he also held himself in a more confident way too. He was unafraid for the most part, far from the nervous wreck you’d spent hours upon hours convincing to go do hoodrat shit with you. 

He was so sure of things now. Even if he had momentary doubts, he’d never been focused on something more than he was with the band. 

And, it did help that he was absolutely beautiful now. He’d began growing out his hair, and the curls that were on constant display were fascinating, jet-black and shiny and tempting to touch. His aquiline nose and toothy smile only added to the charm, all of it wrapped together by the warm hazel eyes that were always watching you, like right now, and suddenly you realized you were both staring at each other a moment too late as Roger came in, looking between the two of you.

Deciding against the obvious question, he instead raised an eyebrow and looked over to the empty whiskey bottle to your right, scowling. “Who did it?”

Thoroughly flustered and distracted, you took a moment to realize that Brian was pointing directly to you, and with an astonished cry, you smacked his hand away, cursing him as he laughed at you.

And from there, a slow burn of a friends-to-lover flame was alight. And I mean slow, as in not reaching culmination until 1973 or 1974, when they were really starting to make it big-time. After all, this was a ‘one of the boys’ relationship you’d had going on previously, so navigating from that to accepting your attraction to Brian and his requited attraction to you was difficult.

You’d never realized how much you really wanted to be more than just his friend until he was off on the Queen II tour and you’d gotten a call from Roger telling you that they were heading back suddenly, due to Brian’s rapidly declining health. And in those hours between that call and their arrival in London, you’d never felt more afraid. 

Suddenly, you knew exactly what it was like to be on Brian’s side of things, so you rushed to the hospital to see him.

He was yellow, so off-color, and he looked so weak when you saw him that you almost started crying when he managed a smile at your appearance. 

“Jesus, Brian, you’ve caught your death,” you muttered as you stood there next to his bed, knowing you couldn’t really touch him - that was the worst part. Now, more than ever, you wanted to hug him. But the risk of transfer was daunting, and you didn’t know if it was aggressive enough to be transmitted even by an embrace.

“Feels like it,” he laughed, his voice softer than ever before, and you frowned as you decided holding his hand was enough, taking the yellowing fingers between yours and lacing your hand with his, squeezing it gently when he gave you another soft smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Wish we were anywhere but here, honestly,” you replied gently, on the verge of tears at the sight of your best friend so weak. “Do you need anything? Water? Food? A book?”

“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled at your fussing, a small laugh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes. “All I need right now is you. Thank you.”

“Never in my life would I expect to be thanked for hanging around and annoying the daylights out of you. Don’t you get tired of me, May?” you teased softly, trying to ease up the atmosphere as his thumb traveled over your knuckles slowly, the calloused, scratchy pad of this thumb leaving small white marks on your skin where it irritated you.

“Never,” he croaked out, so quiet you almost missed it, but a blush spread on your cheeks as you realized what needed to be said. It was now or never, and honestly, Brian was never going to have the balls to say it. That, unfortunately, was your department.

“Good. Because unfortunately, I really think you’re stuck with me for good now.”

“What?” he asked, not fully understanding what you were propositioning, although there was a hint of hope in his eyes as he opened them slowly, looking over at you. 

“I think it’s about time we went on a proper date. You and me.” You gave him a sly smile, seeing a shallow fluttering of his chest as he reckoned with what you’d just said. 

“Right now?” he whined softly, looking around at the room and sighing. “You really picked the worst time to decide that you fancied me back.”

“Oh, shut up.” It was your turn to send him an annoyed look as you stood up, giving his hand one last squeeze before heading towards the door, stopping right before you got there and looking back at him. “Anything you want me to smuggle up from the cafeteria for our date?”

He watched you for an exceedingly long time, staying completely silent and just admiring you before finally swallowing dryly and laughing a bit. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“I don’t think that’s on the menu down there, sorry, lovie.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt at teasing, and closed his eyes as you grinned to yourself, practically floating down the hallway on pure love.

[dontcallmecarrie]

You guys know the drill. Some spoilers for Chapter 20 in TWiFFON, [plus some themes that get touched on in the next arc,] because of obvious reasons. 

The what-if I’m playing with this round, under the cut because it grew on me and now wants to be its own spinoff oneshot of TWiFFON:

What if Ultron had managed to kidnap Tony?

I wasn’t very subtle about Ultron’s obsession with stealing Tony away, and it’s pretty obvious what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been stopped. Vision got to him before he got a chance to do so, but if he hadn’t been assimilated, Ultron would had most definitely stolen Tony away. 

As for exactly what happens...It depends a bit, actually. In Chapter 20, Vision was lucky; Ultron hadn’t expected him to be that strong, and managed to win the fight. 

But maybe, in another universe, Ultron won, because Vision powerful but young, whereas Ultron knows his limits, and has been sitting for years with little more to do than wait and plan. 

If Vision had lost the battle, Ultron would’ve possessed the Mind Stone, and been amused by Vision enough to transfer him to the now-mostly-defunct Legionnaire while keeping the shiny new vibranium body for himself. 

...or perhaps he does something else, but there’s only so many what-ifs I’m willing to keep track of during a shatterpoint, so just roll with him ditching Vision, all right? 

And, with it, Ultron would have been unstoppable. 

Tony, of course, would’ve known right away that something was wrong, but he’s busy fighting a huge horde of Chitauri on his own lonesome, cut off from everyone else, and would not have been able to take Ultron on as well. The Iron Legion’s good, but their numbers are being decimated because Ultron’s got his main objective [the Mind Stone back] and he wants to take Tony with him when he goes to report to Thanos, so subtlety isn’t a concern anymore. 

The Avengers realize they’ve been played, pretty damn fast. 

Because it’s pretty hard not to notice, when the Chitauri aren't working as a distraction anymore, just focused on overwhelming Iron Man, and Tony’s very clearly trying not to lose it over the comms and the portal’s acting up but they don’t have Loki’s Scepter, don’t know how to influence it. 

The battle’s almost entirely shifted to the air so the team can only watch while Tony Stark’s finally overwhelmed by the entirety of the Chitauri army, and swept away into the portal, and it closing almost immediately after. 

Now, since I’m fighting off plot bunnies already, I won’t go into what would’ve happened if Ultron had left the portal open, because that’s pretty self-explanatory and any alternatives would require their own post for me to go into specifics.

Tony’s very obviously freaking out, and this is literally his worst nightmare, cut off from JARVIS, and the rest and he’s seeing the alien army he’s been trying to get the Earth ready for and...welp. 

That he’s being dragged and ‘presented’ to Thanos, is only the goddamn cherry on top.

He doesn’t know what happened to Vision, but Ultron’s wearing his body and that’s not exactly helping either. The only silver lining to being around Ultron is his tendency to monologue, and that’s how Tony gets an idea of what’s going on. 

Thanos is looking at him like he’s an insect, and oh, that’s where Loki got some of his crazy from, makes sense. [He’s so, so screwed, isn't he?]

...oh, wait, they want to recruit Tony? And have him make them an army, because they’re curious as to what he’s capable of? This, he can work with.

...it’s been a few years since the debut of Iron Man, and Tony never really advertised what went down in Afghanistan. Plus, these aliens have different priorities, and really it’s not their fault they’re making the same mistake the Ten Rings did. 

Except for the way it really, really is. 

Add in Tony’s resistance to the Mind Stone [Loki tried it on him in the Avengers and failed, remember? Plus with humanity’s surprise tolerance for items of infinite cosmic power that I mentioned in another post] and you get Tony with highly advanced alien tech, being forced to supply an army for the enemy. 

Because that’s ended so well for his captors before, right?

Meanwhile, back on Earth...

...hmm. I can’t decide. Because the Avengers are reeling, are going ‘oh shit’ and ‘looks like Tony wasn’t as crazy as we thought, oops’, while JARVIS...

Umm. Well, obviously he’s not going to take it well. 

And I can’t honestly say how that’ll go down. Because JARVIS, at this point, is traumatized and has been hyperfixating on Tony’s safety to cope. His morality’s never been much to write home about and Tony was what was keeping him reigned in. He has a robot army at hand, doesn’t believe in overkill, and his morality chain’s gone, there’s no way this can go wrong, right?

He was already borderline Skynet in some ways, but seeing Tony get kidnapped [and hearing him, and feeling the connection become static]...well. I’ll leave that up to your imagination.

It depends, really.

If he goes the subtle route:

 JARVIS would regroup the Iron Legion, collect Vision and any alien artifacts, and book it home. He wouldn’t care about what happens to the Avengers, except to run a subroutine to monitor them [because he’d deemed them a potential threat before but now Tony got captured on their watch—] and mobilizing as many researchers to get on the case as he possibly can. Dr. Foster’s data gets copied to his private servers, SWORD and R&D are on it, and it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

Vision gives him the data, and got moved to an Iron Man suit [because the body he’s in was mostly running on willpower], while they’re working on making him a newer and better body. [And if the Iron Legion’s also growing exponentially...well, that’s no one’s business, now, is it?]

Rhodey immediately gets brought in, and is kept in the loop the entire time. 

This isn’t his normal field of study, and the only words he recognizes are the ones that also pertained to aviation engineering, but he does his best to not get lost.

He’s seething, and only part of it’s guilt [he’d been less than 500 meters away, again, just like last time—], and JARVIS clued him in as to how the team had treated Tony [he’d punched Thor while still in the suit, when they’d first met. Thor had let him, and didn’t lift a hand to fight back]. 

But things are going slower now, because Resident Genius 1′s the guy who got kidnapped, while Genius 2′s MIA [...or not? Maybe he sticks around? Hmm...] and Dr. Foster and Selvig’re doing quite a bit of heavy lifting. Not to say SWORD and SI aren’t, but their specialties are in ways to make things explode better other fields, so progress isn’t what it used to be.

The Avengers, meanwhile...well, they get shafted, simply put. Tony was the one doing all the work, and now that he’s gone and SI’s devoted its spare resources to finding him, they’re facing the scrutiny of the world and don't have any good answers to their tough questions.

 Turns out losing billionaire philanthropists was a bigger deal than they’d thought, and now that Tony’s gone it’s Steve that’s getting called by the World Security Council, except this time it’s about reconstruction efforts in Johannesburg and questioning his recruitment choices and what was being done to secure the planet and he doesn’t know what to say. 

...that might’ve been a bit harsh, actually.

 I’d like to think that Tony’s loss would’ve been the wake-up call the Avengers never had, the likes of Phil Coulson’s death in the first Avengers movie, because I’m a sucker for good team dynamics and even if it won't go this way in TWiFFON, if I can fix it even a little, I will. 

Just...umm. 

Please ignore Wanda’s absence, or pretend that the Chitauri took out both twins instead of just Pietro in this one, because of reasons.

Thor’s taking it the hardest, and Vision’s mention of Thanos [one of the things he’d managed to get from Ultron’s mind during the fight] makes his blood run cold as he remember’s Loki’s Scepter [and the gleam of madness in his eyes], the similarities between him and Tony, and goes back to Asgard as soon as possible because—no, please no. Hopefully Heimdall had something, please, don’t let this happen again—

Steve’s the team leader, and he’s taking it pretty damn hard, too. He’s looking back, and remembering what happened last time, and wants to punch himself in the face. How had he not seen this? Why hadn’t he— just— how could he have been so stupid? [And what could they do now?] 

His nightmares had featured Bucky falling for years now. Seeing Tony getting swept up and up and up is not much better. 

Natasha’s calling in as many favors as she can, and between her and Maria Hill, a good chunk of SHIELD’s scientists are also working on it. Relations between SWORD and SHIELD improve, because they’re collaborating more, and working towards the same goal. 

Clint’s retirement either gets moved up from ‘after this mission’ to ‘right fucking now, go to ground and lay low stat’, or he stays with team, since half the roster’s MIA and the other half isn’t doing so hot. He’s also calling in every favor he’s got, and the scientists who were working on the Tesseract and weren’t in Natasha’s debt tended to owe him one. [Or two.] 

Bruce’s situation I already covered. Either MIA or hard at work.

They’re doing what they can with what they have, and maybe it’s not enough right now, but they’ll get there. 

[Aka the cast of TWiFFON assembles to rescue Tony.]

Of course, that’s assuming JARVIS has a modicum of self-restraint and subtlety, when Tony’s been kidnapped on his watch. [He doesn't believe in overkill, after all.]

If JARVIS had decided to go forego subtlety, though...

He can make Skynet look like a toddler, his morals are now officially compromised, and Tony did his level best to keep him safe.

You do the math.

He may or may not have kidnapped every scientist who hadn’t replied favorably to his request within 72 hours, is what I’m saying. 

He may or may not have stolen all data from multiple nations without making any bones about it, and scared the crap out of the planet while at it. 

Ditto as to what the Iron Legion’s up to. Or Stark Industries. 

Tony would gladly raise hell for those he cares about, and some things run in the family. 

Either way, at some point another wormhole’s made, or opens up.

Everyone’s gearing for battle and panicking and the Iron Legion’s assembled, when a single figure in slim black-and-gold armor slowly exits and the portal starts to close behind him.

“This the right place? Terra—Earth, I mean, Earth! Damn I’ve really spent too much time abroad. Hey, JARVIS, miss me—oooh boy. You’ve been busy, haven't you?”

[skarletterambles]

I’m turning 38 in a month and two days, and if anyone thinks that’s too old to be participating in fandoms, please unfollow me.  Thanks.

I’m sick of seeing people on this dumpster fire of a website mocking people my age for caring about fandoms.  (Granted, none of these comments were directed at me personally, but they still sting.)

“Go do your taxes.”   “Nearly four decades on this planet and this is what you’re doing with your life?” “Grow up.”

In reverse order, I reply:

I did grow up.  It’s majorly overrated.  I have a lot more than fandom to show for my time on this planet, but that doesn’t mean fandom isn’t something that I enjoy and invest energy in.  And I pay my taxes every year.  As a single, childless adult who owns no property, it takes less than a half hour.  That leaves plenty of time for other things.

I’ve been into fandom activities since I was a little kid in the ‘80s.  I’m not going to suddenly stop liking those things because I hit some random, arbitrary age.  Nor should I.

Being an adult is hard.  There are a lot of responsibilities and worries, and free time can be hard to come by.

It wasn’t that long ago that we 30-somethings were teenagers and young adults.  We remember what it was like.  So believe us when we tell you that there is no magical transformation that happens at a certain age to make you into an official grown-up.  It happens gradually, until one day you realize you’re doing “adult” things like calling a plumber, shopping around for insurance, and, yes, paying taxes.  But you’re still you.  You’re just you with a lot more responsibilities to worry about, and thus even more need for the fun escape that fandom provides.

So get off my damn lawn and let me enjoy my dragons, space ships, secret agents, knights, and wizards.  Before you know it, you’ll be my age and wondering how the hell it happened and when that annoying pain in your [insert body part here] started.

(There’s another paragraph below but it’s super depressing so feel free to skip it.  You get the idea.)

Being an adult is hard.  There are a lot of responsibilities, and free time can be hard to come by.  Health problems multiply, financial concerns become more pressing, finding and keeping a job is stressful, watching your parents and grandparents decline with age can be slow-motion heartbreak, the more you learn about the world the more you realize how messed up everything is, the more years pass without accomplishing things you were expected to (marriage, home ownership, publication, etc.) the more anxious you get...and you wish you were 15 again so you didn’t have to deal with all this.  Grown-ups need the fun, creative outlet of fandom more than younger folk.  It may be the only escape we have.

Oops, I thought I was done ranting, but...another thing:  I saw some jerk say it was gross to ship characters who are much younger than you are, i.e. shipping two 20-something characters when you’re 40 yourself.  Good luck finding things to ship when you get to be an old fart, then.  Pop culture tends to reserve romance for the young.  I can play make-believe with imaginary people of any (legal, consenting) age that I want to, thank you very much.

Besides, my lifelong OTP is Scrooge McDuck and Glittering Goldie, and they’re both senior citizens in the current time frame, so...nyah.  And I started shipping them at age 7.  :P

It’s also maddening to see how many young fans don’t realize that things like additional decades of life experience can make you able to see more nuance and shades of gray.  Maybe it’s just this website’s tendency to divide things into black and white, “problematic” or “too pure for this world,” but real life isn’t so clear-cut, and the older you get, the more you realize that.

Plus, you know who writes, produces, programs, edits and creates the games, movies, TV shows, books and other media you’ve built your fandom around?  People older than 30, for the most part.  Some of them much older than 30.  It takes time to build a career and hone your craft.  Are there people who are lucky enough to make their big break in their 20s?  Sure.  Actors, certainly, tend to skew younger.  But life does not stop at 30.

Okay, I’ve ranted way too long.  Shutting up now.  But fandoms make me so frustrated sometimes.

[nutriyumaddict]

I'm like 101% sure Leslie looooooves being spanked by Ben! #justathought #confession

Oh anon, I agree with this thought 101%! ;-)

My own headcanon is that it’s usually very playful and something that evolves during a roleplay scenario or maybe even accidentally but then Leslie is like oh wow and IS INTO IT and so it becomes something that happens when they are in the mood.

Because yeah, she loves it and so does Ben because A. it is sexy and fun, and B. it turns her on so much.

Right.

So anyway, here, have a surprisingly tame bubble-era drabble about Leslie discovering that she wants Ben to spank her.

Also, thank you for the ask/thought/confession! :D

* * * *

It had started innocently enough.

A sneaky dinner led to a sneaky night in bed together at Leslie’s house, which led to a sneaky breakfast in her kitchen before Ben planned on going home to change clothes and head into work from his own place.

Except, while they were making pancakes, there was an incident. An occurrence.

There was a thing.

Ben had turned to her, all bed-head and soft smile and commented, “Hey, here’s a thought, what if we put some sausages inside these pancakes? You know, kind of fold them over like a–”

“Calzone?” Leslie had teased, unable to hide her amusement. “I don’t know, that seems kind of pointless to me.”

He’d smiled and rolled his eyes but when she passed by him on her way to the table with the syrup a few seconds later, he’d reached out and smacked her on the butt. It wasn’t that hard or anything, but there was definitely a distinctive slapping noise and then a sting and an unexpected jolt that seemed to shoot right between her thighs and make her wet.

Whoa. What the hell was that?

Right afterwards, Ben had quickly apologized and seemed a little embarrassed, even a bit surprised that he’d done that at all.

They both laughed it off and sat down at her kitchen table and ate non-calzone style pancakes and drank coffee and made plans for a movie after work.

But now, hours later at her desk, it was still all she could think about.

Ben had spanked her. Well, he’d slapped her on the ass once, but oh god, what if he did it again?

It was certainly different than anything that’d ever gotten her all hot and bothered before, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not get the memory of it out of her head. The feel of his warm, big hand as it slapped against her–even if she was still wearing pajama bottoms and beneath that, hot pink and black striped panties–it made her squirm in her seat as she remembered it now.

Nope, she simply could not stop her mind from wandering back to that morning. And not only that, she soon was thinking about him doing it in all kinds of different ways. What if he was Teddy Roosevelt to her Eleanor and there was some sort of a diplomatic scandal?

What if Betsy Ross embroidered naughty images into the first flag?

What if, say, Leslie Knope turned in the trail maintenance report late this week and she had to report to Assistant City Manager Ben Wyatt’s office for an…erotic punishment.

Oh no, but Mr. Wyatt, I must have forgotten all about it.

He’d be sitting there at his desk gazing at her with all of his intensity and focus and he’d call her over from the doorway and she’d start unbuttoning her pants and then pushing her panties down as she went to him and…mmmmmhmmmmm.

Leslie rubbed her thighs together under her desk.

“What?” Tom asked from across the room.

Her eyes widened. Crap on a carrot. Did she actually mmmmmhmmmmm out loud?

“Nothing! Nothing! Um, just mmmmm…I need a snack. Yeah. I should go do that. Get a snack. It’s the most important meal of the day,” she told Tom in a rush, as she pushed her chair back and stood.

“Oh, if you’re going to the cafeteria, get me a lemon poppy seed muffin but only if it looks less than three hours old. If not, a blueberry one but only if there are an even number of blueberries on top, but–”

“Yeah, yeah, lemon blueberry muffin. Got it,” Leslie said distractedly over her shoulder, hurrying out into the hallway for a change of scenery.

If she didn’t know that Ben was in meetings all day, she’d burst into his office and drag him into a closet for some hardcore making out.

But, no. No, Leslie, you can’t do that, she thought. You’re at work and he’s practically your boss and sexy things are forbidden at work and nope. Nope.

Knope…keep your pants on and be professional.

As she paced down the other end of the hallway and then started back again, Leslie tried once more to make sense of this unexpected turn of events.

Was this a turn-on she’d always had but just didn’t know about? In lieu of her usual go-to for problem-solving, a detailed pros and cons list, she instead went through her most recent ex-boyfriends and tried to decide if the idea of one of them spanking her did anything.

Mark. Ew. No.

Justin? Nope, not really.

That inappropriate MRI technician that Ann had set her up with? Not really a boyfriend but also gross.

Dave was a big no as well (plus that idea just seemed really, really weird for some reason, even if he was a cop and already kind of an authority figure who had his own handcuffs).

But Ben? Sweet, sexy, adorable Ben with his plaid shirts, skinny ties, and cute butt, and his occasional hard-ass fascist tendencies while he was at work? Mmmmmhmmmmm.

Huh, she mmmmmhmmmmm’d again.

Okay, well, this was definitely a thing.

* * * *

That night she had butterflies in her stomach as they started watching a movie on her couch.

Actually, they were the same butterflies that’d been there all day, only taking a brief break when she’d finally given up around two in the afternoon, gone into the ladies’ room, and quietly masturbated in a stall.

It turned out that ironically watching Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull with Ben and him dorkily going on about refrigeration and Wolverine claws (what?) wasn’t even turning her off.

Oh no. It was all so, so still turned on.

She hit pause on the DVD.

“I need to say something. Right now, because I’ve been thinking about it all day. And I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh?” He put the popcorn down and looked at her with a tentative smile. “Okay. What is it?”

“This morning, while we were making breakfast? When you–”

“Oh, god, Leslie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to slap your butt, I–”

“No. Wait. Ben, you don’t understand. That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s okay. In fact. It’s fine. Well, better than fine. Really.”

Her secret boyfriend (and boss, technically speaking) looked a little confused so she climbed into his lap, because his lap was right there and looked all comfy and inviting, and she didn’t want him to be a perplexed sea otter when she told him she thought it might be fun if he spanked her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. So, what I’m trying to say, is that I liked it. When you did that this morning,” she took a breath and decided to keep on going. “And if you wanted to do that again, you could. I mean, I want you to. Spank me. It was sexy. Really sexy and Ben, tonight after the movie, I was thinking–what if we pretended that I forgot to turn in the trail maintenance report or something and oh no, oops, I’m in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You know, the sexy kind of trouble. The kind where you have to spank me,” Leslie finished with a wink.

Ben’s eyes widened but only for the briefest of seconds, then they turned all dark as he continued to stare at her. And yeah, he definitely looked into it too, Leslie thought with both relief and her continued, ever-present-since-this-morning arousal.

“And I’m your boss in this scenario, huh?” His hand started rubbing along her lower back, teasingly dropping lower after his question.

“Yeah.”

“And…you’re…addicted to spanking?”

What?

Leslie giggled at that, even if he was kind of smirking when he said it. “Well, hold on there, buddy. Addicted is kind of a strong word, but maybe we could try it and see if I liked it as much as I think I might?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I mean, um, sure, we could maybe try that? If you want to. I guess.” His sarcasm was adorable as always.

She leaned in for a kiss that he eagerly returned and soon his hands were gripping onto her hips.

When Leslie pulled back, he gave her an affectionate smile, before his expression turned more serious.

“Ms. Knope, it seems as if your trail maintenance report was not on my desk this morning,” Ben told her in a very no-nonsense, mean Ben tone. “I’m afraid that’s not acceptable.”

“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”