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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years ago

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➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention.

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: ±4.3k

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

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my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs.

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?”

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest.

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks.

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest.

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week.

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks.

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny.

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times.

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset.

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks.

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her.

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed.

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time.

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles.

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal.

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent.

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile.

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says.

draco nods.

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks.

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens.

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady.

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs.

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts.

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way.

“weasley,” draco states.

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion.

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion.

george is shaking his head in dismay.

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too.

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open.

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters.

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins.

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin.

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply.

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table.

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room.

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks.

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses.

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things.

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain.

she’s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed.

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces.

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles.

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head.

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him.

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing.

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open.

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back.

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table.

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face.

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas.

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her?

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked.

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs.

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation.

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in.

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten.

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard.

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission.

she swallows and nods.

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere.

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently.

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks.

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...”

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face.

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile.

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway.

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before.

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.”

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her?

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her.

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1.

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway.

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not.

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking.

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good.

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory.

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand.

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes.

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks.

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls.

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs.

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate.

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles.

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes.

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore.

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her.

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!”

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response.

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs.

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!”

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed.

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?”

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing.

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too.

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him.

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms.

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone.

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.”

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face.

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #hansel and gretel #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #angelina johnson #alicia spinnet #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade

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zodiyack · 4 years ago

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Requested by @psychkunox: (Been so long since I requested other than Peaky) But can you do a Supernatural one, Dean x Reader insp to the ep "Regarding Dean."

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff?, tired/probably poor writing

Words: 1,218

Summary: (See Request?)

Note: So, if you couldn’t tell by the title, this revolves mainly around the scene wherein Sam and Dean are at the motel. Sorry if this sucks :\

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @psychkunox,

Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

The phone rang, vibrating the table with it. “Unknown Caller”. Sam looked away from his laptop and picked up the phone without hesitation. Y/n watched from the seat across, taking slow sips of her morning drink of choice. “Hello?”

“...Sam?”

Upon hearing his brother’s voice, his shoulders hunched and his empty hand came up, an “are-you-shitting-me” type of attitude immediately replacing his calmed expression. “Dude! Where the hell have you been?” At Sam’s sudden change of tone, along with his question, Y/n widened her eyes and tilted her head, no longer half asleep.

“Uhhh I’m not really sure about that.”

“Well- where are you now?”

“Um, not really sure about that either.... I um... Oh!” Dean laughed on the other end, “I’m starvin’. How you feel about waffles?”

Sam’s face morphed with confusion, drawing Y/n’s interest even more. He muttered a bit, struggling to form a word before he picked one, “What?”

“Dumb question. Right. What psycho doesn’t love waffles? I mean they’re fluffy with little pockets full of syrup you just cover ‘em with whip cream, right? Anyway, meet me at Waldo’s, alright?”

Sam could barely think of something to say with the amount of time given to him. Dean hung up leaving Sam thinking 100 miles per second. Y/n made eye contact with her boyfriend’s brother, raising a brow as to ask for the story.

“Was that Dean?”

“Mhm.”

“Where was he?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Did he not tell you?”

“No, actually, he doesn’t even know. He said to meet him at Waldo’s for waffles and then hung up.”

Y/n paused, scrunching her brows together in thought. Then she nodded with a shrug, “Sounds like Dean to me.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes as he walked into the building. “Hey...” he drawled. The first thing he did as the two sat down was sigh and tap his head, “You brought my girlfriend but did you bring any of the uh-” Sam took the bottle of pills out of his pocket and shook it, like an owner would a dog treat to their eager pup. “Yes!”

“Sounded like you could use it.”

“Oh man,” Dean whispered as he opened the bottle.

“Rough night?” Y/n’s eyes followed her boyfriend’s every movement. Dean after drinking, whether it be drunk or hungover, never ceased to entertain her. Dean shook his head.

“Rough morning.” He poured some into his hand, using his coffee to wash down the pills rather than water.

Sam watched with amusement as well, chuckling a little. “What happened? I mean, you just went out to get some food.”

Dean raised his free hand to emphasize his shrug as he set the mug down. “I dunno.”

“What does that mean?”

“I- I guess I blacked out... And judging from this hangover,” he nodded his head, “it was epic.”

Sam looked to Y/n for context, however, all he got was a raise of her shoulders. She hadn’t been with him last night, so there was no way she was involved with his drunken state.

“Well, we tried to call you-”

“Oh.” Dean held up his broken phone, making Sam sigh and Y/n look down in disappointment. “Not sure how that happened.”

“Great. Alright, well I’ll text mom and make sure she knows you’re going with me in case of emergency and Cas, in case he tracks down Kelly.”

Dean slowed his chewing down as his brows furrowed, tilting his head to meet Sam’s eyes. Sam raised his brows in response. “The- mother of Lucifer’s love child?”

“Right. Right. Yes, the, devil-baby-mama drama... Heh, say that five times fast. Devil-baby-mama drama.”

Once again, Sam sighed at his brother’s antics, though, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle a bit. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, “Alright, Dean, you know, uh, you’ve had a good run, but uh, maybe let’s pump the brakes a little bit. I mean you’re not twenty anymore...”

Dean froze, staring at his brother. Amusement was nowhere to be seen on his face, which was quite rare. “Okay, one, the Rat Pack partied till the day they died and b, I can still kick your ass.”

“Finish your waffles, tough guy. I’m sure you have some work to do.” Y/n snickered. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Call me if you need me, okay?” She raised her brows as she waited for Dean to nod, then pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out the door, waving goodbye to the brothers.

“Hey... I came as soon as I could-” Y/n opened the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind her.

“Thank you- I-”

“My girlfriend? Really Sammy?”

He ignored his brother, whispering as quietly but frantically as he could.“Dean’s been acting weird.”

“Like Dean weird? Or...”

“No no, Dean has not been acting weird, Dean has been acting like Dean.” The man in question interjected, waving his finger around.

Sam spun back around to face Y/n, pointing to Dean. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Didn’t plan on it. ...Why is there a sticky note with the word lamp on the lamp?”

“Because Dean called it-”

“A lamp.”

“A light stick.” Sam glared at Dean.

Y/n covered her mouth, attempting to keep it contained, but to no avail; laughter poured from her lips uncontrollably. Dean seemed to find offence in it.

“Why the hell are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry bub, but... can you blame me? ‘Light stick’. Sounds like some holy shit if you ask me. Or maybe Starwars. Lightsaber?”

Sam squinted at her in confusion. He shook his head. “Not the point- listen, do you think we can do anything?”

“I’m not sure...”

“I’ll call someone, give me a minute.” Sam walked over to the other side of the room and began to pace.

The voice on the other end was inaudible to Dean and Y/n, but Sam filled in the most he could with his responses.

“Yeah, well, we need your help Rowena.”

“C’mon man, Rowena? I mean- tch- Hey!” Dean bent over into the mini-fridge, pulling out two little bottles of- “Tiny vodkas! Score!” He smiled and shook the bottles with a chuckle.

“This is serious. Look- I think Dean’s been hexed, okay? He- he’s been forgetting things... He’s not drunk!”

Dean held the empty ice-container in his arm, the lid in his other hand. “We need ice.”

Sam turned to Dean’s voice, then turned his head back around and shook his head, holding up a finger, an unspoken “one minute please”.

Y/n chortled as Dean continued to silently gesture with the lid to the container.

“What? ...I don’t know? Uh- And I’m not checking either! ....How do I break it? ...Got it.” Sam hung up, spinning back around to face the two, “Alright so- ...Dean?”

Y/n lifted her head from the lamp, her fingers toying with the sticky note. “Huh?”

“Where’d he go?”

“I- I don’t know...”

They looked toward the door, opened ajar just slightly, then back to each other. “Dean!?” Sam raced out the door.

Y/n looked back to the lamp and the yellow note between her fingers. She chuckled, remembering what Dean said. “Light stick.” More chuckles rang out before Sam’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Y/n! C’mon!”

“Right, sorry!” She raced out the door, following behind. “...Light-stick...Never calling another lamp a ‘lamp’ again.”

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wyofabdoms · 4 years ago

Text

Ten Days - Day Eight

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, angst, swearing, soft and sweet Javi, period appropriate sexism, brief mention of broken Javi

Word Count: 2484

Note: You have a bad day at work and seek out Javi to keep you company.

Read the full series on Ao3

The Friday work day ends early for you and finds you seething as you stomp up the stairs to your apartment carrying two loaded bags, one stuffed with your favorite take out food, the other clinking with multiple bottles of red wine (and one large bottle of whiskey).

It had been that kind of day.

All you wanted to do was drink yourself into a fuzzy stupor so you could forget the bullshit from today. The second you’re in your apartment, you shuck off your work clothes in the main entryway and pop open a bottle of wine in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. As you gulp down the first sharp taste of tart alcohol, you wander to your bedroom. By the time you’ve washed your face, put your hair up out of your face and changed into comfy shorts and a ratty tshirt, your glass is empty. It’s a good thing tomorrow’s Saturday because you can tell right now you’re probably going to have a major headache in the morning. You click on your record player and turn up your favorite Bruce Springsteen album, then snuggle into your couch with your food, another full glass and a trashy romance novel. A few bites into your meal, though, and your train of thought wanders back to your day and you lose your appetite.

How dare they! How dare they all. YOU were the one responsible for that intel. After the shit you’d had to do to track down that punk bartender and get him to talk...no one even bothered to acknowledge it. Not that you required them to stoke your ego and tell you how great you were, it wasn’t like that at all. It was when you were passed over despite your hard work and someone else completely undeserving earned the praise that infuriated you. It was always that way (most of the time, anyway). Every single male colleague you worked with always seemed to overlook the fact that, more often than not, you brought things to investigations that might not normally have happened; that you worked as hard as they did...oftentimes harder. You had to to be successful in a man’s world. You were damn good at your job. As cliche as it sounded, you often thought it as your woman’s intuition...an idea that many people scoffed at, but you knew was actually a legitimate and important trait. But today had been more than just the usual workplace sexism. Once again you had been overlooked as being an integral part of the team. It happened so often by now that you were still surprised when it stung so much. Today you had just felt like breaking. So you had left work early...not even bothering to clock out or finish your paperwork.

Fuck them!

You couldn’t stop yourself this time. Tears began to fall again (Christ, when did you become such a crybaby?!?) and you shoved your face into a throw pillow as you sobbed for several minutes, getting the anger and frustration out of your system. It was so unfair. And you knew that if you had been born with a penis and were in the same situation, it would be a different story all together. You also felt a pang of longing: if Javier hadn’t been sidelined and out of commission, you know he would have had your back today. He was the one exception to the sexism you experience (most of the time). It had taken some coaching on your part when you had first become partners; he had made his fair share of blunders that had hurt you and been unfair. But he had always listened when you had called him on his bullshit, when you had explained how the things he had done or said made you feel, explained how they were not fair solely based on the fact that you were female. Early on he had acknowledged when he was wrong. He still occasionally did or said something thoughtless, but he usually was quick to recognize when he was wrong and he had inadvertently become your champion when things like today happened. Though you hated to admit it, when he spoke up to others on your behalf, it made you feel good...although it also enraged you that a man’s voice pointing out your hard work was heard by the other men in a room rather than them all just recognizing it on their own. Javi would have stood up for you today if he had been there.

Thinking about your partner reminds you that you should probably check in with him before you get too tanked...you definitely don’t want to interact with him after you’ve had as much wine as you were planning to have...and after you’ve been reading things you know you’ll encounter in your book.

You snatch up the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to hunt down his keys and patter down the hall to his apartment, tap, tap, tapping on his door, enjoying the soft buzz the wine was making you feel on the edges of your thoughts, eager to make sure he was set for the evening so that you could get back your own apartment.

As soon as Javi opened the door you realized immediately that you had made several critical errors despite only being one glass of wine in. His eyes immediately traveled down your body, taking in your exposed neck; it was unusual for you to wear your hair up like this. They roamed further and assessed your t-shirt with hardly any elastic, the collar hanging low and dipping off one shoulder. Despite the fact that you swam in the material, it was obvious to his keen eye that you were not wearing a bra beneath it. You started to shuffle a little as his eyes traveled further and raked down your bare legs, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw your bright yellow, fuzzy socks. You rolled your eyes at his roaming gaze. My champion...you thought sarcastically.

“Hey!” You said loudly, snapping your fingers in front of his face a few times then waving your hand in front of your own face, drawing his eyes away from your exposed legs. “My eyes are up here, Peña. You don’t need to be lookin’ anywhere else.” He shot you a guilty grin, knowing he was caught and you felt some pressure leave your chest. After his apology last night and the unspoken sweet moment that followed, you were afraid things might be weird between you. Thankfully, though, things felt ok...until you see the smile drop from his face and his forehead crease in concern.

“What happened?” He asks. You pause, confused by what he means. Then you realize: you had just been sobbing into a pillow in your apartment...no doubt your face looked as puffy and red as it felt. You held up the bottle of whisky.

“I got passed over for another commendation today.” Your voice was full of false cheeriness, edged in steel and highlighted with fury. Javi’s eyebrows came together “Agent Dickhead got it instead. Want to have a celebratory shot with me?”

“Sure,” and he stepped back from the doorway to let you in.

***

Javi was appropriately outraged along with you at the injustice of the entire situation as you sat at his kitchen table. After inviting you in, he had gotten glasses for you both as well as a bowl of chips and you had poured them each a drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen him glance at you to check that your back was turned and you had watched as he knocked back a pill from the bottle next to the sink, keeping his back to you, and making no mention of it. One shot had turned to two and you both went back and forth between chuckling and spitting ire over for the incompetence of the man who had wrongfully received the recognition that you deserved. After your partner poses a particularly explicit hypothetical question regarding “Agent Dickhead’s” relationship with his mother that leaves you clutching your sides in a fit of giggles, he sighs.

“Sorry I wasn’t there. I know you don’t need me or anything like that, that’s not what I mean, but…” he trails off for a moment and fiddles with his glass on the table before finishing. “...I just wish I could have said something. You don’t deserve to be treated like shit.” You sigh too and lean back in your chair.

“Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.” You sit in an amicable silence. Then you shift in your seat, stretching your legs from where you had tucked them up under you “I should go. I don’t want to keep you, I just…” your frustration from the day hits you again like a ton of bricks and in the next instant, to your utter horror you are blubbering into your hands, your shoulders shaking, trying not to sob hysterically in front of what you are sure is your mortified partner.

You hear his chair scrap across the kitchen tile and you feel more than see him kneeling next to you on the floor. Before you can react to his closeness, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his solid frame. You think for a moment that you should pull away...but you just can’t. You breath him in as you lay your head against his chest and cry into his shirt, the soft smell of soap and cigarettes giving you something else to focus on besides your hurt and rage and you feel your tears start to subside just a little. He buries his face in your hair for just a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a heavy sigh, then he props his chin on top of your head, tightening his arms a little bit more around you.

You stay like that for a while, his arms cocooned around you, you letting him hold you while you cry yourself out. He’s told you before there is nothing more terrifying to a man than a woman in tears and you know how uncomfortable it makes him feel. This isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of him; it’s happened before on a few occasions, but it has never resulted in anything quite so intimate. He usually slings an arm around your shoulders or simply sits next to you patiently, waiting until all of your tears are spent. And then there had been that one terrible, dark time when you had found him curled up in the locker room at work at two in the morning, his head clutched in his hands, shoulders shaking, silently sobbing into the wall. You had never been so frightened of anything as you had been then, seeing him so broken in front of you. You had held him and the two of you had never spoken of it again save for his grunted thanks the following day.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel safe, feel small, feel cared for, even if only for a few moments. Your breath comes in shallow stutters as your breathing begins to regulate. Reluctantly, you pull back, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You touch the wet front of his shirt, chuckling your apologies, embarrassed. He shakes his head and shrugs in response and you force yourself to look at him.

His eyes are full of something that makes your heart pound. The longing from previous nights, a reflection of your own hurt, and something that can only be described as adoration. He brings his hands from around you and frames your face along your jaw, his thumbs carefully tracing the trails your tears have made on your cheeks, wiping away the last of the wet streaks.

“You ok?” He gruffs softly, the question reflected in his soft, sweet brown eyes as they search yours. You can only nod, hypnotized by the incredible tenderness you see in his face. For all of the resolve you have always had that has kept you from crossing the line with this man, you have never felt so much weakness as you do in this moment. Every part of your being screams at you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him; to beg him to touch you, to make love to you. You know if you did he would oblige you. He would make you forget how hurt you are by work, make you feel like the most special person in the whole wide world, make you splinter apart under his ministrations. All you had to do was close your eyes and lean forward…

...Before you can convince yourself to act or not, Javi makes the decision for you. Cradling your head in his hands, he leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. It lacks the heat of the last time your lips touched, but strikes a perfect balance between chaste and lustful, pressing just long enough to be more than a peck, but not so long that either of you get lost in your desires. He pulls away after a few tender moments, pausing as he does just millimeters from your face, his eyes open and studying you carefully, taking a moment to breathe in the air from your exhalation, his lips hovering over yours. Your eyes remain closed, though, unable to look at him for fear of wrapping yourself around him and shoving him to the floor to ravish him. He lowers his head, his forehead brushing your mouth and he lets out a shaky sigh. He whispers your name as though casting a spell and you open your eyes, staring at his lowered head until he raises it again.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then rocks back onto his heels and pulls himself up to standing, taking you along with him. You stand a little too close to each other for just a moment, heat crackling across the small space that separates you, your palms flat on his chest, his hands resting on your elbows before they drop to his sides. He takes a small step back and the raw desire you see in him frightens you.

You mumble your thanks for the company and the drink along with an apology for losing your shit on him. He waves you off, telling you not to worry about it, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard and blink before saying goodnight and making your way back to your own apartment, your legs suddenly feeling like they’re made of jelly and your heart pounding so hard you’re amazed he doesn’t hear it all the way down the hall.

Day One

Day Two

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

Day Nine

#javier peña x reader #javi #javier pena x female reader #narcos

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p1nkwitch · 3 years ago

Note

16. 17. and 21. for writer meta ask! Always love to hear you talking about fics you wrote / are writing / will write!

16- Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

Mm, i would say the style in a couple of fics of mine were a little bit different, i wanted to try to change the way i usually narrate or explain stuff. The main examples are And the Nightmare Collapses, because I wanted to do something a little more strange and play with the reality breaking aspects. I just love eldritch stuff, plus the entire part of the Lukas being a collective mind struggling to find personhood was delightful.

I would love to do it more in the future. I just have fun sprinkling in that sort of stuff.

Beating heart of the institution is also a very good example of that. The way I chose to tell it was meant to be different due to who the narrator was, its… the sort of weird and strange narration that reminds me of a hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy or good omens. Something about the voice who tells the story being a little bit odd and going into tangents. It was fun, I struggled a little bit until I realized that I could make several pov changes to open up more possibilities regarding what the story could say.

So i'm very fond of how it turned out, despite everything.

Finally A mother’s love is also like that in the sense that i had to construct the story based on the letter and Elias reactions towards reading them. To have a bunch of seemingly unrelated events all connect into the final one and the revelation at the end. The letters and statements were the moving force, while everything else was a little window into his life. I greatly enjoyed that, and wish to do it more. Will need to see how I can implement it later on.

As for future uses, im not sure yet, like i said i would love to use some of those aspects again, but i would need to pick a plot that i feels goes well with it. Which is somewhat difficult if I want it to fit within canon as a little of an offshoot alteration.

Maybe i would love to go into more horror or the cosmic aspects of the fears, which is funny considering the fandom im writting for, but Peter and Elias are far too blase about murder and spooky shit for the horror to settle.

Its why i need to go into au territory to be able to use it best.

Oh perhaps errr, I'm trying to write smut? It is technically a genre change, im vibing with several ideas and maybe a few sequels for things i already made. But i'm not sure about it. There are a few that I do not believe will ever see the light of day even if i finish them, i'm too embarrassed for it.

17- Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I… don't know? I mean it is hard to really know someone just by their writing and i try to be honest most of the time about how I am. At most I guess people would think I'm very sure of what I write? But half of the time I spend it thinking i suck. I like what I make and put love and effort into it, but I do end up feeling like its not really as good as I think. I'm still surprised that people like my stories to be honest.

My motivations are rather simple, i have an idea i like and i just make it, its not that complicated. To be fair i would love to see what someone who has only read my fics and hasn't interacted with me thinks, because who do you think i am based only on my fics its a very interesting point. But yeah, I guess that maybe they think i know what i'm doing but i'm just there trying my best to not overthink myself into feeling bad, i swear im not usually so much of a downer, but it does get me from time to time. Still is it as i tell my close ones, i keep my feelings inside and one day i die!

21- What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Maybe… maybe a webcomic? Depends on the story to be honest. But most could do with that media. But i guess if i have to pick from the longer ones-

Once upon a time could be an animated series, since it is mostly hijinks, fluff and angst. The fantasy aspects would be lovely to see animated.

Heart Machinations i believe a webcomic could do, it would be a nice way to show the space backgrounds or the facility.

Beach afterlife reunion party would also work as a webcomic, i have very vivid ideas of the places i described for it, but i am unfortunately terrible at drawing backgrounds. Which is a shame, because i would love to be able to see some of the things i wrote as an illustration. Particularly chapter 2 would be a black and white thing, with the ink seeping and the empty beach. It only gains color at the end when Jonah remembers Peter….

#flurby gets an ask #sorry if its not exactly what you wanted #i have another ask that has lots of meta plot references waiting

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the-archlich · 4 years ago

Text

. . .

I haven't posted much about Overwatch League in a while because no one cares. This isn't about esports, though. This is about an extraordinary personal narrative that anyone who loves a good story should be able to enjoy. One with so much dramatic tension it makes my bones tingle. The protagonist: Eui-Seok "Fearless" Lee.

Our story begins in 2017, before the Overwatch League is a thing. Tournaments are relatively small outside of Korea, with teams cobbled together from whoever can be found. In this environment, one team emerged as exceptionally strong, with Fearless at the head.

We move to 2018, halfway through the inaugural Overwatch League season. The Shanghai Dragons are 0-20, having lost Every. Single. Match. The org scrambles to right the ship while there’s still time. They look desperately for someone who can save them. They turn to Fearless. He gets signed, but due to visa issues he can’t make it to the US until 75% of the season is over. By the time he gets there, it’s too late to change the team’s culture of defeat. They finish the season with an astonishing 0-40. This makes them arguably the worst professional sports team (esports or otherwise) in the world.

Fearless stays on.

For the 2019 season, the team makes huge moves. He’s one of only 3 players out of 12 who remains with the team. They sign a roster consisting mostly of teams who were just the runners-up in the Korean minor league championship. Some of the brightest rising stars in the business. Everything looks set for a redemption arc. And then, mere days before the start of the season, Fearless becomes extremely ill. He has to return to Korea for medical care. The season starts without him. He’s replaced. That year Shanghai breaks their winless curse and goes on to have a relatively successful season, even winning one of the inter-season championships by knocking out the top 3 teams in a row. It’s an exceptional story; one that Fearless didn’t get to be a part of.

That did not stop him.

Once he was well enough, he was transferred to Shanghai’s minor league team, playing in China. This was a team almost as unsuccessful as their parent organization. Through a monumental effort, Fearless carries them to the regional playoffs almost singlehanded. Victory just barely slips through their grasp and the end the season in 2nd place, after losing the regional final in an unfortunate 1-4.

But Fearless proved himself and in 2020 he was signed back onto the main Shanghai roster. He had to split time with another player in the same position. But again and again, Fearless proved himself superior. As the tip of the spear, he led Shanghai to an extraordinary season. COVID doesn’t make him miss a step. Shanghai ends the regular season as the #1 team in the world, with a staggering 27-2 record. During the playoffs, they end up falling at the end, finishing in 3rd place. This would be enough for almost anyone else, but Fearless’s story wasn’t done yet.

The Dallas Fuel has struggled almost as much as the Shanghai Dragons. Despite signing some of the biggest pre-OWL stars in the 1st season they ended it in the bottom 4, barely above Shanghai. The end the season in 10th place (out of 12). Season 2 isn’t much better, ending in 15th (out of 20); Season 3 sees them in 13th (of 20). Major changes are needed. So major changes are made.

Remember the team Fearless played with before all of this began? Over the next couple years the other members were signed on to different Overwatch League teams. They were scattered all over the globe, having different experiences, learning different playstyles, and learning a lot of English swearing. Dallas, with the kind of deep pockets you only have if you’re funded by Big Oil, pays through the nose to reassemble the old squad, under their original coach. After 4 years of ups and downs, Fearless is reunited with his old friends. For once, Dallas really looks poised to make an impact.

And then once again, days before the start of the season, a player has to resign due to health problems. Not Fearless this time, but a specialist on the team. No one else plays the characters he does. There’s really no way to fill that hole. And no time to hire someone new, Dallas has to go on with it anyway. They lose their first game narrowly in a 3-2 against local rival the Houston Outlaws. It’s as bitter as defeats can get. They win their 2nd match but get creamed the 3rd. They win the 4th handedly but it’s against arguably the weakest team in the region. Mixed results. These 4 games are qualifiers for a tournament and they barely slid through thanks to some math in their favor after several other teams went 2-2.

But Dallas is in the tournament. The way ahead is terrifying. First they have to overcome the San Fransisco Shock, the championship team from 2019 and 2020. And if they somehow survive that, Dallas has to head to a rematch against their bitter rivals, the 4-0 Houston Outlaws. If by some miracle they win both, they make it to the tournament finals, playing against 3 other teams for the prize.

Everyone thinks that the Dallas match is just a formality before the Shock fight he Outlaws. Fearless has had enough of that. Leading the way as always, he absolutely demolishes the Shock, despite his counterpart on that team being regarded by many as the best in the world at their mutual position. The rematch against Houston begins. Once again, Fearless destroys everything in his path; despite his opposite number being an early candidate contender for rookie-of-the-year. Now, Gina and I are Outlaws fans (after Philly, obviously) so we were pretty bitter at that point, but the strength of this narrative won me over.

From the 12 teams in the western region, Dallas and Florida advance (after Florida wins a frustrating victory over the otherwise undefeated Philadelphia Fusion). In the Eastern region, the top 2 of 8 also advance. One is the Chengdu Hunters, a team that was previously sort of the beloved clown of the Overwatch League. They’re serious this year, emerging as the only undefeated team in Asia.

The other is the Shanghai Dragons.

COVID means that competition between east and west is hard. But there’s a solution: the University of Hawaii. A fiberoptic cable along the floor of the Pacific Ocean connects the University of Hawaii to servers in Tokyo. Dallas and Florida fly to Hawiai to play from the university. Chengdu and Shanghai connect to the servers in Tokyo. A brand new “minimum latency” tool is used to increase ping for the eastern teams so that it’s equal with the western ones in Hawaii, about 50 ms. Now lag isn’t an issue. The playing field is even and the two regions can battle it out in this tournament to see who wins.

With a first-to-3 victory condition, Shanghai narrowly beats Florida in an incredible 6 map series. I saw the whole thing and the two were within a hair of each other the whole time. Truly extraordinary. Dallas has to go up against the undefeated Chengdu Hunters. Dallas does what they did to other undefeated teams and beats them handedly in a 3-1 series. Now both Florida and Chengdu are in the redemption bracket, with a chance to rise from the grave and still claim victory.

This means that the fight everyone wanted to see comes to pass. Fearless and Dallas face off against his old team, the powerful Shanghai Dragons. What followed was somehow just as good as the Florida matchup. It’s first to 3. Dallas wins the 1st map. Shanghai grinds them to a draw in the 2nd. Then Shanghai takes the 3rd. Dallas narrowly scrapes out a win in the 4th. Shanghai crushes them in the 5th. So once again, it comes down to the 6th map in a first-to-3 series. Not only that, this is the 6rd time in a row Shanghai played 6 maps in a first-to-3. They won the last two.

Not this time.

Putting in an extraordinary effort, Dallas pulls it off. And I cannot stress enough, 70% of their success was due to Fearless being absolutely relentless. He looked like the most dominating individual in his position the game has ever seen. Already an MVP candidate only 25% of the way through the season. Any other time that would be the climax. But this story isn’t over. This story is too good to end there.

Florida beats Chengdu, weathering the weird magic the team has always possessed that occasionally lets them slay giants. They have their rematch against Shanghai, with the stakes incredibly high. Loser goes home. The winner goes on to face Dallas for the crown. Hungrier for victory than they’ve been since 2018, Shanghai obliterates Florida in a quick 3-0.

In a little less than 3 hours, Shanghai will play the rematch with Dallas. Fearless will once again face his old team, including his replacement, a highly respected player who goes by the extremely fitting name of Fate. Can Fearless do it again, leading his old friends to victory over his old team? Giving Dallas the redemption they never achieved, the same redemption he gave Shanghai last year? Or will he fall once again, after all of this?

There are 3 more tournaments like this in the season (not including the finals). Maybe this story will somehow become even more dramatic over the course of those. Impossible to say. But tonight, this year’s protagonist goes up against his final boss.

This is truly as good and dramatic a story as you could hope for. Whether this is an incredible personal triumph for Fearless or a heart-rending tragedy, it’s going to be one of those things that you never forget.

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og-danny-dorito · 5 years ago

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Spock Headcanons (There's No Reason This Time I Swear)

S F W:

- I don't even know why I like him so much I just do, but my dumb gay ass just loves this man. seriously no kidding

- spock is a child of two worlds; an outcast but a familiar part of both systems in their actuality, residing as the cross section between Vulcan and human that was frowned upon for so long. his intelligence was left unconsidered as he passed all of his classes with excellence, being known as not the intelligent Vulcan boy but as the dysfunctional human hybrid of a being

- so obviously he's probably got some insecurities

- they're not bad, but he tends to be a bit self deprecating sometimes when referring to capability of things. for instance if you ask him if he can say uhhh.... if he can draw something for example. he’ll most likely state that he has no talent or not enough skill or his previous artwork was terrible so he doesn't suggest asking him for it.

- he knows what he logically isn't and is capable of, but the human doubt still crawls in the back of his mind like a parasite. he still feels emotions, just less outwardly, he's definitely capable of feeling and if you are observant enough you'll notice that he expresses himself through very very small gestures

- when he quirks a brow at something he either finds it surprising or he's being sarcastic, two things which don't happen often (except the latter)

- he's very private, obviously, but is still open to conversation about his interests. mostly he says that he just reads and works in his spare time, but that's not exactly the truth

- when he has nothing else to do, spock finds interest in cat videos and cat videos only. seriously, he'll watch them for hours if he's not got nothing to do, just staring at the screen in silence as he watches cats do stupid cute things like they're the most interesting beings in the world

- he secretly would like a cat as a pet, but yknow it's not really easy to keep pets on Starfleet considering he doesn't want to deprive the animal of connectivity with nature

- can and will debate you about whether cats or dogs are better. sulu once said he thought cats were problematic in spock’s general area of 10 feet in diameter and there was a very heated debate that went on for a good hour or so before sulu got frustrated and decided to just let him win

- spock also likes weird and exotic plants considering that their chemical composition is interesting. he finds it fascinating that different planets use the plants around them for food or medical treatment or a number of other things, so he finds that a way to start off with a culture study is to study the biotany of the planet first

- had NEVER seen a cactus before coming to earth, and now has like 10 of them just sitting in his quarters. he'll never tell anyone but they're named after the constellations that can be seen from Vulcan. he's just a nerd I swear

- Shakespeare nerd, although that's fact not a headcanon

- romantically I think he'd have fairly bad self worth issues. a lot of the time he views himself as unworthy of his partner, and he'll have trouble with physical contact the first few times mainly because he doesn't exactly know what to do with himself

- not much for pda at all. he says it's because it's indecent, but it's really because he gets all flustered when you kiss his cheek or snake your fingers around his in public where there are people all around. he gets super embarrassed and it's cUTE

- wouldn't have a favorite part of his partner physically; he's genuinely only attracted to the mind. male or female or not even using that gender binary, if you fit whatever standard he holds for intelligence and actually love him he doesn't care what you physically are

- vulcans bond through souls so appearance basically doesn't matter. this doesn't mean he doesn't find you attractive, it just means he wouldn't care if you weren't. he loves everything about you anyway, beautiful or not to the world around you both

- you could call him pansexual and I feel like he prefers someone with a more feminine or elegant way of handling themselves. someone that generally is elegant and cunning seriously catches his attention, and on top of that someone who can and will openly challenge him genuinely makes him intrigued and enrapt with you

- he does kindof have a taste for people who can be reckless (cough Jim cough) due to impulse or bravery, seeing as he admires the fact that the person is willing to take a risk

- cannot be with someone closed off and cold, it just won't work cause he himself is basically a block of ice. he does feel but like barely, and even then he doesn't really show it

- one good way to tell the emotion is to look into his eyes. they speak more than he ever would about his feelings to anyone out loud

- writes poetry to give as presents to those he cares about; most commonly to lovers or his mom (at least he used to write for his mom, until she died). he writes actually very well, although his poetry is more structured than eloquent in a sense of interpretation and imaginativeness. he writes about things that he likes about you, which ends up describing all of you with very specific details you probably didn't realize until you read the lines

- appreciates art in all forms, although he's fairly certain he'd be bad at it. if you write stories or draw he's always open to helping you interpret characters or figure out a good way to express your own feeling through the ar if you're having trouble. encourages you to try new things with pretty much everything, but mostly art

- VERY very good at giving advice, he's basically the Strict Mom of the whole crew (I say strict mom because there are multiple different people who take the mom title, such as Leonard “Bones” McCoy; Stressed Mom). for instance if you're injured or being faced with mentally stressing conditions he'll most likely tell you to take breaks more often or suggest speaking about them to either your peers or to someone you trust. usually people go to him when they don't know what to do and he calculates the probabilities of each and suggest they put aside most emotional matters to think through it more clearly

- his ideal date would probably be like going to a museum or something, but all he’ll do is stay in a section with all the cool rocks and taxidermy animals while asking your opinion and knowledge on them curiously. he may know about pretty much everything in there but he doesn't care, he likes to watch you marvel at all the cool things in there

- 100% does buy the stuffed animals and figurines that are supposed to be models of stuff. yes, he knows that he can find that rock from that one planet practically anywhere but he still WANTS it because it GLOWS in the DARK

- probably would not think you're like seriously dating until the second month or so, mainly to calculate stability between you two

- is open to a marriage if he's been courting someone for a particularly long time, being at least three years or so. he's very very plan-oriented and organized and so he expects you to be lacking impulsiveness when making life-changing decisions

- bonding with his partner means the most to him in all honesty, though. it hold s such a high regard in his heart and soul that he genuinely feel s very very seriously and passionately about it. it's something he doesn't take with a grain of salt, mostly because he wants to be with the one he loves forever. you mean the world to him, and he wants to keep you as close as possible for as long as possible

- down to have kids, maybe a girl that he'd name Amanda, after his mother, or a boy named Grayson or some Vulcan name that you wouldn't be able to pronounce correctly without extensive practicing

- just thinks kids are nice, although he'd probably be a little hesitant and VERY protective

- OH and before I finish this is completely unrelated but I feel like he likes summer more than any other season since it reminds him of his homeland so much. that and he also likes that everything grows up nicely during this time

- his favorite flower is either the notch-leaf phacelia or the harvestbell mainly because he likes the colors and structure of them; he just thinks they look neat

- he'll get them for you whenever, most likely organize the flowers specifically himself for you, combining yours and his favorite flowers to look beautiful even though the could be completely different

- denies that he's a hopeless romantic, merely stating that he just wants you to know that he loves you by giving you poems and flowers

- but we all know The Truth

- tbh he just cares a lot, although he's bad a thing showing emotions. Spock is calm and collected, but inside a whirlpool of thoughts flood his head daily. be patient with him and he'll open up over time, letting you see into the depths of the mind you'll come to cherish so deeply

#spock #spock headcanons #spock headcanon #spock imagine #spock imagines #star trek: the original series #star trek: the motion picture #star trek headcanons #Star Trek headcanon #Star Trek imagine #star trek imagines #star trek beyond #star trek #Star Trek tos #tos

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altviktcrr · 5 years ago

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『MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like VIKTOR SAMUELS is here for HIS/THEIR SENIOR year as a VISUAL ARTS student. HE/THEY are 24 years old & known to be OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT & DEPENDENT. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo ,,, again ,,, this is my last child i SWEAR ,,, at least fr now ,,, hes also the most problematic one ,,, the most dramatic ,,, one of my absolute faves ,,, pleathe love him. as always if u wish to plot please like this so i can msg u !!!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like ... sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid ... not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like ... just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just ... not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was ... viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because ... for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears ... that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just ... love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just ... a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like ... sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s ... a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive ... like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away HBDSJFNGKH

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe ... yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time ... also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not ... with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like ... partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate... but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies... because viktor would have a lot of them...

familiar faces... people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances... people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids... just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend... probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances... people who knew him from his youth.

exes... good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft... i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited... either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension... of the ... spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends... old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups... current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die... friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence... he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg... he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#radintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #mental illness tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention tw

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poetobservationz · 8 years ago

Text

Something, remembered. To friends of my father.

I was reminded today, of something wonderful. As I was examining a tiny “Grow it yourself!” basil plant I got for Christmas, a memory flashed before my eyes.

The brown color of the earthy pot reminded me of egg cartons. My Dad, among other gifts, had a green thumb. And as a child, I was amazed by how he magically lifted things from the ground.

Our garden was something fairys dreamed of in their wildest hopes and most wishful dreams.

We had a greenhouse of sorts, in our back room which opened to our backyard. I recall, year round, us gathering empty egg cartons, filling them with musky, earthy, rich soil, and him instructing me on how to gently press a flower seed into the dirt, and cover it up.

He would let me pick which seeds we would grow, and I would pick the most beautiful flowers, and he would say so. And I am sure some were not built for upstate New York climate or temperament. Yet, somehow he’d make them rise in the egg carton and gently transfer them to the garden.

And something I didn’t recognize until now, was how our gardens didn’t focus on just food, or what was “useful”, though I remember tomatoes.

Our gardens were full of flowers, and not just perennials.

We had annual flowers, lasting only one season, their impermanence part of their beauty.

And I think that is something that was true of my Dad.

He valued the impermanence of beautiful things; he valued the process he would repeat every year, and the slow, fruitless efforts of growing flowers.

My Dad lived effortlessly in the moment, enjoyed the slow growth of something wonderful that would last for a short time, then fade away.

And as a girl, I learned to value it too.

I think when you lose something so essential to your self understanding, you may feel like that part of you dies with it.

But like the annual flowers, anything observed with love is never wasted.

I started a project, my senior year that I never finished. Which is why I am sharing this with you today.

It dawned on me while looking at the basil plant this morning, how deep and impenetrably important this project is.

There are parts of my Dad, I don’t know. And I desperately, so desperately want too.

To my dads best friends, (as so many were regarded as such).

Hey, I am Jeff Millers eldest daughter.

My father saved two huge boxes of letters from his friends and family. I discovered these boxes May 1st of 2015,

and it took me quite some time to decide what I wanted to do with them. I loved seeing all your letters, and reading what you had to say, but I also really wanted to see what my father replied. I wanted more than anything to see his messy handwriting, and hear his voice through his words. I wanted to see his signature, his drawings,read his stories; I wanted more than anything to know my father as more than my Golden perfect temple so well displayed in my mind. I wanted to see my father write that he had bad days, and admit that he messed up, or see him swear. I wanted him to become more real. It can seem sometimes to me, he is like Superman; flawless, and heroic; but a character from a story. I don’t doubt that he was a perfect person; he’s my dad anyway. I just want him to be more complicated maybe, like a complex character. Don’t misunderstand! I don’t want him to seem evil, I just want to see how he would tell it if he were here. I read my mother’s letters to him starting from high school and on, which he saved, and it made me wildly happy to see her write how excited she was to “ski”, (she hates skiing), or how she got pulled over that weekend, (she claims to be a professional driver). I realized I knew my mom because I know myself. I recognized the fake interest in things that the other person loved, and the misplaced bragging for hugely understated “oppsies”, because I’ve done the same thing. And she is no less perfect in my eyes. She is more. I loved seeing that I had pieces of my mom, not just from her strengths, but also from her faults; because, we learn the most from our faults.

While I was searching the box, I also came across books my dad had, and slowly but beautifully, it dawned on me that we did have something in common. We loved weird history. The titles ranged from “Unsolved Mystery’s from the Past”, to “Side Show freaks 1880-1950”. I considered, perhaps these were some of my old christmas gifts long hidden and forgotten by my mom. I cracked their dusty covers to see my father’s messy John Hancock, which I so covet. I knew how curious, riveted, and revolted he felt while reading about certain mysteries left unsolved, and for once I knew with absolute certainty. Because I felt the same things. I had him, and his curiosity for the strange and unanswerable oddities inside of me. And I loved it. Then I found the letters, and now I’m finding you.

My father loved you. He kept your letters, their envelopes, and the ridiculous cartoons sometimes included inside of them starting in his high school days and onward. He probably laughed, or maybe cried, or immediately started to reply. I don’t know, but I’d like too.

This is really less of a search for my father, and more of a search for myself. I want to learn more about the pieces of me that my mom swears aren’t her fault (joking!). I’m here to ask if you have anything you could copy including pictures, letters, a drawing, a note on the back of a napkin, a signature of his for me. More important to me though, I would appreciate a story; anything you have would do. I’m hungry for it as you can probably assume. You can email at [email protected]

I know after my Dad died, my mom asked this of people he loved. We had a few replies, which my siblings and I love reading. They are precious to us.

I understand if this is too painful for you, or you have too much going on. I realize it’s not a normal request or an easy one. I just don’t want to continue my life wondering what would come of this, if I hadn’t done it. Either way, I get to share your correspondence with my father and that makes me happy. I hope it does the same for you. My mother does have letters from my father, but those are only one facet, and I can only read so much without being weird out from the gushy, lovey, dovey-ness. I want more.

When I was 6, in 2003 I lost my father to a brain tumor, resulting in my family’s move to Marblehead from upstate New York in 2005. I have two younger siblings, Maddie and Jeffrey whom I take great responsibility for, as the oldest sibling in a single parent household. I’m positive these letters would make their lives a bit easier. I am about to study in Prague this coming semester.

Thank you so much for writing my dad once upon a time and giving me a chance to get to know him, for taking the time to read this letter, and for considering a reply- Please forward to anyone who knew him. I really only have an idea of about 8 people to send this too. I don’t know everybody in the pictures. I don’t know everybody who he loved.

Please.

With love from your friends daughter,

Maisie Kate Millerhttps://68.media.tumblr.com/181b4183e29272f8ccb0968310e16899/tumblr_inline_okg8cgS7dX1ucvos6_1280.jpg

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/legacy

Photo sets found at:

photo sets:

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/post/156449574650/image-set-1

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/post/156449572230/image-set-2

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/post/156449568065/image-set-3

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/post/156449566600/image-set-4

https://poetobservation.tumblr.com/post/156449562285/image-set-5

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a-writing-bear · 7 years ago

Text

[PruCan] Chapter 3: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

“…..Hey! I should hire you to be my animator!”

Gilbert had gushed out the words as If the suggestion held no consequences. It wasn’t easy to agree to accept a role with little to none reward on top of the already exorbitant piles of coursework which tormented any student…that and the pure fact animation took lots of time- time that some would say they did not own or could not conceivably plan out to section off their talents. Art was supposed to be fun, rewarding, fulfilling. It was always an escape for Matthew and to even consider using any free time (something he did not really have nowadays) on projects that weren’t collectively his own sounded like a plunge into self-afflicted failure.

The last time he dabbled in a project that took over his free time, it was a family chore; almost everything involving Alfred felt like a chore. He had been strapped into the position of creating a concept image for another one of that horrible engineering thingy-ma-bobs Alfred designed. No pay and definitely no reward unless you regard crushing hugs and endless “I knew you could do it bro!” as a deserved gift. It was gruelling. It was work, not exactly ‘art’…

Still…This storyboard contained copious amounts of promise, something I haven’t seen in a while. Sure, Results may not prove worthy and it could be an utter failure, heck his ‘director’ might be a hellish nightmare to deal with (‘He reminds me of Alfred…not necessarily a good sign…’) in spite of all of this Matthew’s slight weakness came into play:

Working with Gilbert was a risk.

Danger. Potentially hazardous to his schedule and academic prospects. That sounded hot fun. To the common public, Matthew was unrecognisable. They, understandably, only saw a fellow who resembled a prodigy- the undesirable sibling that was mentioned in a footnote. A small detail in the background of a portrait of someone much more important. If he was noticed and thoroughly acknowledged, the most people understood was that he was soft-spoken, he was very good at art and was respectful of others.

That’s true but horrifically, Matthew was, realistically, extremely bored. Bored and so unmotivated for anything but art. The craving for something more than just paint on a basic canvas was evident, and his creative mind had been screeching for something more tantalisingly sustaining. Call it what you may, sadistic to his sleep and/or work process or a terrible decision to his report card, Matthew loved risky things. Like hockey.

Maybe that’s why he liked art? His parents responded negatively to his progression into art as it seemed dangerous; a traditional occupation like becoming doctor was bound to be a safe job prospect rather than a ‘starving’ artist. It held so much value. And once again…

Gilbert was a Risk.

That was a factor that changed his hesitant decision to not take the job, taking up the offer seemed like the only real choice. Being slightly ‘unsafe’ sounded…unchained. Of course he would have rules and deadlines but still, it was a creative process that he could let take over his uninterested mind. He was going to do it.

“Okay. Yeah that-That sounds good-“

“Wait?! Really Holy shit danke!”

“I didn’t finish” Matthew's voice had taken a more serious tone as he announced his guidelines, “If I agree, I want something in return and I want a freer rein on your story. I want to be able to change some scene ideas, we work as equals on this or else I don’t do it.”

The media student blinked in reply blankly before nodded his head in understanding,

“…so Mattie, What do you want in return?”

Contemplating on what he wanted, the blonde man debated over what could be a gain from Gilbert. At first, he pondered over getting the media student to buy his coffee every morning so he wouldn’t have to leave his bed early but the responsible voice in his head told him that would be stupid. Laundry after his hockey would be useful but then again, it would be weird having someone know about his hockey obsession in detail...He doubted the paler man knew any good weed dealer so that was out of the picture (Besides, his Dutch childhood friend, Tim, already sources that for Matthew).…that and a near-to-stranger acquaintance should definitely not be involved with his- rather unsavoury- habits

“Can I use you as a Model?”

If it was possible to be strangled by silence, Matthew would have been killed that very moment. In the process of getting ready to blurt out a very traditional Canadian ‘sorry, it’s alright to say no’ Gilbert had narrowed his eyes before eerily nodding for himself as if he had just made a deal with a devil he might regret years down the line. The two boys scrambled to sorting through the intricate plan that the albino has created, marking key scenes and a draft template Matt would draw digitally later on in the ‘calmer’ hours of Friday- if anything like that actually existed, Matthew had convinced himself that the paper drawing would be relatively smooth-sailing to replicate. Sharing toothy grins and even the occasional shuffle and chuckle over new concepts, excitedly the boys exchanged numbers and sorted out deadline dates.

Conversations on 'actual' work diminished and at some point, Matthew’s unfinished summer painting was forgotten; as well as Gilbert’s laptop lid closing, the entire device tucked and buried under paperwork. Bands, Movies and stories flew from each other’s heads into the reciprocating ears back and forth. It felt natural. It felt comforting. It felt nice. Just occupying the former exhaustion of usual loneliness with new found company felt indulgent, really this was something the blonde had been yearning for the past few isolated months (He had friends just not those who were exactly ‘easy’ to talk to). As the boys fondly conversed over everyday idle chat the soft beat of Motion City's Soundtrack 'The Future Freaks Me out' played on- Just as Mattie Noticed from the band shirt, Gilbert had the same taste in music. The thrill of it all sounded lame when he realised he was excited over having a decent conversation, at this point 'what could really get in the way of this perfect afternoon of random sketching and laughable jokes?'

“Heyyyyyy sib….so I was wond-“ Well. The peace lasted while it could. A drastically loud boisterous voice pierced through the solace. Midway the voice seemed to die and as Matthew looked up he realised his newfound peace would be ruined for the rest of the evening, at least that's what could be interpreted when he witnessed his brother's expression:

"WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?" Alfred had choked out and had nearly completely crumpled whatever paper he had been holding. Wincing at the aggressive yet usually intrusive nature and tone of his brother Matthew leant forward with head in his hands and let out what could only describe as a disappointed moan and sgot up stumbling towards his brother.

"Has anyone ever uprightly told you how dramatic you are? I doubt Arth-"

“HEY HEY NO WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ARTHUR RIGHT NOW-MATTIE WHAT IS HE DOING IN HERE?!”

If anything, Gilbert was less insulted by being referred to as ‘he’, the majority of his feeling of discomfort stemmed from the fact Alfred never mentioned he had a cute ass brother. Tempted to interject the one-sided conversation, he spectated the two squabbling siblings with the cuter one physically holding Alfred at the door by the shoulders. Wait- Is Matthew Canadian?- Actually, that's a stupid question of course he is...It was obvious considering the boy's room was adorned with RED fucking EVERYWHERE, the occasional hockey sweater on the wall and crooked postcards of typical tourist hotspots like Niagara Falls (Not to mention Canadian flags on any item possible as if some cheesy gift Canadian tourist gift shop- Gilbert had noticed even the abandoned pens on the desk had maple leaf emblems)

But that didn't really add up. The media major tried to do the calculations in his head:

Alfred = American? Yes That's right...

Matthew = Canadian? Well duh, they discussed that earlier and the room...

Matthew = Alfred Brother???

"Um So...if Mattie is Canadian then how is Alfred Americ-"

"IT'S A FAMILY THING" Both of the two mumbled out as they continued to fuss over each other. Finally, Matthew had stopped Alfred rude gawking and had started lecturing Al over god-knows-what.

*Buzz* *Buzz*

From his jeans pocket, the Prussian could feel the 'so-very-important' calls of his younger brother, deciding that continuing his project with Matthew would be hopeless with both Alfred and an impatient Ludwig he promptly decided to slip out passed Alfred and bid farewell to the cutie from the room next door. Was I imagining it or was Matthew blushing? Oh verdammt.

#prucan #aph canada #aph prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Hetalia Fanfiction #fanfic #multific #college au #alternate universe

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