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biromanticbooknook · 3 years ago

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My Most Ambitious Crossover

I got bored by posting only my second gen Amazon AU, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow, but enjoy this one-shot about Chloe and Marinette creating their own trip instead of their class trip in the meantime. Can’t have you all thinking I’m a one-trick pony, can I?

“-and that’s why we think you shouldn’t go on the trip this year.” Mlle. Bustier tried to look apologetic, but it was as much her idea as the students. Between Marinette refusing to set an example and Chloe associating with her, neither of them deserved to go.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to get my daddy to donate 30% of the funds like he does every year.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to take 60% of the trip funds out of my commission profits. That will give me a much bigger budget for fabric and accessories.” Everyone blanched at the statements of the 2 girls. They were saying that they paid for 90% of the trip every year, but that couldn’t be right. They worked so hard on fundraisers every year, they must be lying about how much they contribute.

Marinette just ignored them, turning to her seatmate. “Do you think that our other friends would want to go on a trip with us? Most classes take their trips during May, so we could leave at the beginning of June and take the entire summer.”

“Nice thinking, Maribug. With fewer people, prices go down and we can afford more bang for our buck.” They walk out of the classroom, discussing who to ask and when.

The class just made a big mistake.

-----

By the time the weekend rolled around, Marinette and Chloe had their group list finalized. The people going on their trip were themselves, Luka, Kagami, Aurore, Mireille, and Marc. They got together and started brainstorming fundraisers.

Marinette started. “There are the given examples; you know, car wash, bake sale, raffle. What else?”

“We could host a show.” Luka suggested.

“Like an exhibition?” Marinette asked. “We could have you perform, Kagami do a fencing demonstration, and I could do a small fashion show, using Chloe and Marc as models. Aurore and Mireille could be our MCs.”

“To capitalize on money-making, we could sell tickets, food and drink, and merch for Luka’s solo career as well as commission spots for our resident designer.”

“That’s good.” Marinette starts scribbling in the shared notebook.

“At Le Grande Paris, we could host parties. I know days when the grand ballroom is open. We could host an auction, sell lessons and creations and stuff. We could also host a masquerade ball that we sell tickets for. We could charge for food and drink. The pools are open for private reservation quite often, we could have parties there too.” Chloe takes the notebook and starts writing down her ideas, mapping out all the resources needed while muttering.

“We could also host a carnival or a gaming tournament in the ballroom.” Kagami looked thoughtful. “I’ve never actually been to one.”

Chloe added that to the list. “Should we do anything else?”

“We could start a go-fund-me. Artists and writers do it all the time to get their creations off the ground.” Marc murmured.

“That would be great. What’s our goal for this entire endeavor?”

“Our goal, Maribug, is €45,000. That should cover travel, boarding, tours, food, and souvenirs. Whatever we don’t spend gets redistributed to the group.” Chloe supplies.

“Then that should be it. Nice job, guys!”

“My, what a whirlwind of a planning session. I hope nothing rains on our parade. I wonder weather Mlle. Bustier’s class is doing this well.” Aurore beams at them.

“Mm-hmm.” Mireille agrees with Aurore.

“Probably not. Our classmates couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. They’ll just listen to Lila that the boot will empty by itself through the toe because ‘I worked on patenting this boot’, then they’ll get mad at the boot for not doing it.” Chloe chuckles dryly.

“Be nice.” Marinette reprimands half-heartedly.

-----

Chloe immediately filed the paperwork with the school board so they could go on their trip with no safety or legal concerns. She recruited Mme. Mendeleiev and M. D'Argencourt to be their chaperones, who were more than happy to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, New York City, and Tokyo.

They had their first fundraiser at the end of September, a pool party at Le Grande Paris. Even Mlle. Bustier’s class attended, though they didn’t know who had set it up, only that Luka was performing. They hadn’t even started their planning yet. The group made €3,041.

The next was a car wash in the middle of October. It was cool enough for a car wash to be pleasant while being warm enough that everyone was still out and about. They earned €2,632. Bustier's class was getting ice cream and listening to Lila brag.

They then had an All Hallow’s Eve bake sale, complete with candy decoration reminiscent of the American holiday. They earned €1,800.

During November, they held a carnival, with a full fall theme. It was wildly popular with families from all over Paris, earning them €6,483. It was around this time that Mlle. Bustier’s class held a bake sale, and earned €1,594. They celebrated.

Throughout the holiday season, they took advantage of peoples’ spirit. They held a raffle throughout the 12 Days of Christmas, while also holding a bake sale the day before winter break. Overall, they earned €10,749.

Over winter break, Chloe bought plane tickets and reserved tours and hotels, so all that was left was to get money for the tours and food. They were over halfway to their goal.

During January, they rented a theater, and held their exhibition. They had a crowd of fencing enthusiasts, rock music lovers, and fashion followers. They made €5,830.

They held a date auction and a masquerade to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was amazing, and they earned €7,284.

They had checked their go-fund-me, and had found that €10,000 was there, putting them €2,819 over their goal. They were ecstatic!

They still held the gaming tournament at the end of April, but let it be free for everyone to enjoy as their celebration of reaching their goal.

-----

Mlle. Butsier’s class had made €7,000 over their 3 fundraisers, and they were pretty proud of themselves. No doubt they would be going somewhere much better than whatever Maribrat and Chloe have planned. Once the girls walked into the classroom, the class started to brag.

“We’ve finished fundraising!”

Marinette smiled and decided to be nice to them. “Cool. Where are you going?”

“We are going to New York City.”

Chloe was not as kind. “Oh, so are we! It was so hard to raise the €45,000 needed for our trip, but we did it. It was so euphoric to meet our goal. How much did you guys raise?”

“We made €7,000.” The smiles slowly slipped off the faces of the class. “What do you mean the €45,000 needed?”

“Well, we needed to cover food, travel, boarding, and tours, and that was just for the 7 of us. I can’t imagine what the budget would’ve been like for an entire class.” Her smile got an edge, like a lioness who knew she had cornered her prey.

Her classmates blanched. “What was our budget, Alya?” Rose looked towards their new class representative, hoping that she had an answer.

“We never had one.”

“Well, at least you filed the paperwork right?”

“What paperwork?”

Marinette responded this time. “The paperwork needed to go on a trip. You were supposed to submit it to the school board for approval of safety and legality. It was on page 17 of the packet I gave you at the beginning of the year. Didn’t you read it, Alya?”

“I-I-no. Lila said that was just extra work that you had given me to throw me off my game. She said you didn’t actually need to do all of that.”

“I didn’t know that Lila had more experience being a class representative than me and Marinette, the only 2 people who have ever been class representative here.” Chloe’s voice became as sharp and sweet as her smile. “Well, have fun with your trip. Marinette and I have to do last-minute checks on our arrangements.”

The class looked at the people that had carried them the previous years, and realized how much they relied on the girls. Lila was cursing herself for pushing away the only people who actually did anything in this class.

-----

The class ended up going to Disneyland Paris, and tried their best to look as upbeat as possible on their social medias. Meanwhile, The group was having the time of their lives.

They stayed in LA for 2 weeks, visiting movie sets and meeting actors. They spent another week just going on everything at Disneyland and California Adventure.

They then spent a week in Star City, touring Queen Industries and having a meet and greet with Oliver Queen and his ward, Roy Harper, who seemed to enjoy Aurore’s outgoing personality. They even saw the vigilantes.

They spent another 2 weeks in Central City, touring STAR Labs and watching the rogues try to fight the Flash family. It was the most meta-filled city in the world, and They toured a forensics lab with Bart Allen. Chloe seemed grimly pleased with seeing the bodies. She might’ve been projecting certain people onto them, not that she would ever admit it.

2 weeks in Metropolis was really fun. They toured the Daily Planet with Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Mireille was amazed by what you could do to report without having to be in front of a screen. They made a scavenger hunt of how many Supers they could find, and they found 2 different superboys. Lex Corp also gave them a tour, although it was more professional than the tour of the Daily Planet.

They spent 1 week in Gotham. They toured Wayne Enterprises and stayed out of the Bats’ way. Luka got the phone number of Tim Drake. Marinette enjoyed the inspiration that the gothic architecture brought her. There wasn’t much of a nightlife scene, considering only fools stay out after dark in Gotham.

Their 1 week in New York City was hectic. The Avengers were all at the tower when they were touring with Pepper Potts by Chloe’s request. Chloe might’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark when she stood up to them and made them ‘cease their bullshit’. The Black Widow also took a liking to the girl. They also ran into these weird teens muttering about monsters when they were waiting for the elevator at the Empire State Building.

2 weeks in Tokyo. Their last stop. They visited the prestigious Ouran Academy, the host club getting Marc to come out of their shell by constantly helping boost his self-esteem. Chloe enjoyed talking business and finances with Kyoya Ootori. Kagami led them all in a traditional tea ceremony, before they all stormed the streets to try the unfamiliar street food.

Marinette ended up being unofficially adopted by 3 heroes, 2 rogues, and 5 billionaires. She was happy getting to spend 7 weeks on the road with only her closest friends.

The class was incredibly jealous of the trip their classmates took. They hoped next year they could go on a trip like that as well, but they had missed their shot.

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part twenty) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twenty: It’s auction time! Two horses of the Gold Canyon Ranch are up for sale. Will they get the price they are hoping for? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Sold - John Michael Montgomery (Auction scene), Save A Horse - Big & Rich (Jo & Y/N dancing scene), Good Time - Alan Jackson (Dean & Y/N dancing scene), In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young (Final scene). Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @manawhaat and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Sold! For 3750 dollars to number 48!”

The auctioneer slams the gavel down on the block, sealing the deal. A sigh of relief falls from Dean and Jo’s lips, who are leaning over the high fence at the auction pen. Almost four grand for an unbroken two year old Mustang is more than a fair price these days. The average numbers have been decent so far, especially considering the current economic depression that is weighing down on the country.

Benny leads the young horse out of the arena, him and Dean exchanging a nod, accompanied with a smile. The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is playing it cool, but all are well aware how desperately the cash is needed. It’s not something the whole circuit needs to know, however. Much like any business where money is involved, there are always those who are eager for an opportunity to profit off the loss of others. There are plenty of vultures circling the skies above their potential prey, waiting to take advantage. Dean will not let that happen.

A new horse is brought in and the auctioneer starts rambling again, announcing prices while assistants scan the crowd for bidders. It’s a vibrant ambience, most people here to make deals, others to have fun. Upbeat country music rallies on the buyers who watch one animal after another come into the pen, judging their conformation, gait and looks before they raise their sign into the air to announce their bid. The small indoor arena is more crowded than one would expect after the market collapsed earlier this year. He notices that Y/N is experiencing some difficulty getting through the mass of people, trying to push past people while transporting three huge burgers.

“Sorry, got held up, there was a line,” she excuses, handing the fast food to the wranglers. “You didn’t have to do that, Yank,” Dean returns, taking the large burger in his hand nonetheless. “Yes, I did. You haven’t eaten, yet. Dig in,” she returns. Grinning, he moves the welcoming food to his mouth to take a bite. Once again she surprises him with her care and observations. Nothing goes past her, especially when it comes to his well-being.

Y/N glances at the large display on the back wall where the sold horses are listed. She thought the biddings stalled just under 4000 dollars and the numbers on the screen confirm it. “The price for the Mustang wasn’t bad, was it?” “Not at all. Dad still has to pay ten percent commission, but he’s gonna be satisfied with almost three and a half grand,” Jo agrees. “If that Pinto sells for good money, you might wanna break it to him that you two are the new Sonny & Cher, before he catches you two lovebirds red-handed.” With his mouth full, Dean chuckles at the blonde Cowgirl’s remark, which she paired with a perked eyebrow. He lets his free hand slip around his girlfriend’s waist, gently pulling her closer. “I’ll tell him when we get back on Monday, promise,” he announces, more to Y/N than to Jo. “He’s too busy doin’ business now anyways.”

Y/N smiles at the assurance, leaning into him. She’s glad Dean is so comfortable with her by his side in the presence of others, but just as important, she’s glad Jo has realized Dean isn’t just fooling around. Her friend has always supported her, but it took her a second to believe her cousin’s intentions are, in fact, good. Her skepticism wasn’t random; she has seen plenty of tears fall for the ladykiller. But those days are in the past now. “What time is the second horse going up for auction?” Y/N wonders. Dean checks his watch and glances at the horse currently in the pen, who is carrying a tag with ‘204’ on it. “He’s number 211, so he should be up in twenty minutes or so.” “Think Benny will manage?” Jo checks. “Yeah, he has plenty of time to switch them. Let him make himself useful, he’s not riding any horses this weekend anyway,” the head wrangler grins.

The crew members finish their quick meal, the three of them now leaning over the fence while watching the exciting auction. The burgers are delicious, fresh off the grill from one of the many food stands, topped with cheddar and crispy bacon. Quality greasy event garbage, but Y/N wouldn’t want it any other way. Usually she tries to eat healthy, keep her body nourished for the hard physical labor she puts into her work. During shows, however, she always lets go. She knows that she can’t swallow a bite before her runs, not with the nerves always closing off her throat and having her stomach in knots. But staring down at the big, juicy burger in her hands, she just dives in; figures it’s better to stash up on carbs before her big day than to fall short.

Twenty minutes later, Benny leads the Pinto into the auction pen. The horse looks magnificent, his white patches washed clean and the fur that’s black shining under the limelight. His mane, detangled and brushed, cascades down his well formed neck, reaching his shoulders. The stallion is stunning, getting a reaction from the audience.

“Alright, y’all, this is quite the looker we got here. We present this two year old Pinto stallion, owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch. A tall fella which stands at sixteen hands, strong enough to carry a big Cowboy around the competition arena. Sired by Cash Button, well-known APHA champion producer. As you can see he’s haltered, but unbroken, so if you’re lookin’ for a fine show horse to start fresh with, this is the one for you.”

Dean is glad to hear that the auctioneer does a good job promoting their horses. The speaker can make or break an auction, so he’s thankful the organization hired a skilled one.

Somewhat nervous, Dean sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble as he takes in the traders on the bleachers. Jody managed to buy Sundance, despite the huge interest in the mare. She paid a whopping fifteen grand for the talented barrel racer, who stayed at the top of the rank and scored Jo the first win of the competition. Now that the Mustang switched owners for a reasonable price as well, a big stack of cash for the Pinto would really bring the ranch back in the clear… for now. Dean is aware that it will take more than one good day to nurse the company back to financial health again, but it would be a good start.

“Opening bid is 2500 dollars, so let’s get this bid started, people. 2500, 2500 for the gentleman on the front row. Can I get a 3000?”

The auctioneer begins his bid calling, the rhythmic repetition of numbers and words adding to the tensed atmosphere. It’s a fast chant that engages the crowd and brings a sense of urgency on the possible buyers. But no matter how hard the speaker tries, the biddings slow once they near three grand, nowhere near the number they hoped the stallion would sell for.

“Last chance to become the new owner of this stunning future prospect, folks. 3500 dollars now, will you give me 3750? Going once…”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mutters, drumming his thumb on the wooden fence. Y/N watches the mass of people, but she can’t see any new signs popping up. It couldn’t possibly be that the Pinto will go for less than the Mustang, even though he’s worth more? “Did Bobby arrange a reserve?” she checks with Jo. Her friend shakes her head, glancing at her with worried eyes. Y/N now shifts her attention to her other side, taking in the head wrangler, noticing the frown edged on his forehead under the brim of his hat. He’s radiating tension, much like Jo, all three keeping their eyes on the $ 3500,- on the screen. It’s not enough, but it might be the amount they will have to settle for.

“Going twice…”

“Four thousand!” All three perk up, trying to make out where the bid originated from. The distinctive voice is easily recognizable though, the woman’s strong accent hard to miss; it’s Donna. “Four grand, ladies and gents! Do we have another bidder? 4250 dollars, 4250 anyone?”

Out of nowhere, another number is raised into the air, one of the assistants pointing at the bidder and shouting back a ‘yup!’ at the auctioneer.

“We’ve got 4250 dollars now, 4250. Can I get a 4500?” “Five!” Donna calls out. “Five grand! Do we have 5500?”

And there you have it, a bidding war. Dean exchanges a look with Jo, who smiles as the bids keep going back and forth like a tennis match, the stakes taken higher every time the ball is bounced back. Y/N watches in anticipation, getting more excited every time the amount that is about to be paid for the Pinto grows larger.

“Seven and a half grand. 7500,- dollars. Is bidder number 24 gonna raise? You tell me, young lady. For 7750 dollars this gorgeous stallion can be yours. What do you say? 7500 dollars, going once...”

The rancher with Minnesota roots seems to hesitate, discussing her next move with Jody, who’s seated next to her on the bleachers. After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, Donna keeps her sign down; they can’t go higher, but she took it high enough to make this a successful auction for Bobby Singer.

“Going twice… Sold! To lucky number 7 for 7500 dollars!”

The audience applauds the entertaining battle, Benny making a little fist, modestly celebrating the good sale as he walks the horse out of the pen. All the members of the Gold Canyon Ranch family know it; this is a much needed win.

Unable to contain her elation, Y/N reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. It draws his attention and he glances aside at her, his green irises full of delight. The worry has dissolved from his eyes, the weariness gone for a moment. Today is a good day; they can let their guard down for a little while.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but with three horses sold and Jo winning the barrel race, I believe we have reason to celebrate!” Y/N says cheerily, looking between Dean and her best friend. “Hell to the yeah! I think I deserve a drink,” Jo agrees victoriously. “Come on then.” Y/N grips Dean’s hand tighter, nudging him to follow. “Let’s hit the bar.”

“Does everyone have a drink?” Y/N checks, looking around to make sure everyone has either a glass or a beer bottle in hand.

The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is standing around a barrel that serves as a high table, accompanied by Donna and Jody. A live band, consisting of a drummer, a banjo player and a singer who also plays an acoustic guitar, treats the attending guests to a great show. Strings of lightbulbs are connecting the steel frame that keeps the high tent up, its canvas lit with alternating colored spots. The bartenders have to kick it up a gear to keep up with the demand, people waiting to place their order on all sides of the horseshoe-shaped counter. Riders, trainers, horse owners and spectators are laughing, dancing and having a good old time. Nothing today would suspect that business isn’t as usual.

Dean enjoys the carefree feeling and raises his bottle, joined by his workers and his boss. Even the grumpy old man lifts his IPA into the air, a sparkle back in his uncle’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. “Alright, y’all. Let’s congratulate Jody Mills here with the purchase of a future champion. Glad to do business with you as always,” he starts, giving the short haired ranch owner a nod, “and of course we raise our drinks to my Joanna for the win.” He throws his daughter a subtle but proud smile, before he turns to the rest of the crew. “Thank y’all for pitchin’ in and for all the hard work.” “To the Gold Canyon Ranch,” Benny adds, clinking his glass against those of his colleagues and friends, who repeat his words with a cheer.

Being on the opposite side of the table, Dean takes the opportunity to move his hand to the small of his girlfriend’s back, letting it rest on her hip, knowing Bobby won’t be able to spot it. He presses his fingertips into the denim, meeting her gaze as he takes a good swig of his drink.

It doesn’t take long before his uncle is dragged away from the fun by a horse trader, without a doubt stealing his time to negotiate about other horses Bobby plans to sell. As Dean predicted, he will be too busy mingling and so Y/N is delighted when her boyfriend leaves an affectionate kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles at the sweet gesture, counting her blessings. With every touch, every look, the nervousness dissolves a little further.

When she entered the tent earlier, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth running dry. She’s well aware Dean is easy on the eyes, because she has caught herself getting lost in the image of him more times than she can count, but now it wasn’t just her who noticed his looks. The handsome cowboy made plenty of heads turn, a few women greeting him with a flirtatious ‘Hey, Dean’ as the group passed through the crowd to find a spot. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her boyfriend’s reply to them stinging sharply in the pit of her stomach, even though he was only trying to be polite. It’s not just jealousy that has her lose grip. It’s worry, because she feels intimidated by all the girls that seem to throw themselves at the wrangler. They are all beautiful, stunning looking women, vibrant and confident. More beautiful than me, the insecure voice in the back of her mind once again reminds her.

He noticed the uneasiness, able to read her body language better each day, and he tried to reassure her the best he could with Bobby still being in their presence. Now that the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch has moved away to do business, she’s glad Dean instantly rose to the occasion to pull her closer and let her know who he belongs to.

“Want another drink?” Dean asks, not just his girlfriend, but the other people in his company as well while he takes the ranch’s credit card from his wallet. Y/N notices the slight hint of hesitation in Jo’s expression before she answers, and she reckons it has something to do with the ridiculous prices on the venue, a beer being seven dollars. Four bucks might not sound like much, but when you start buying rounds, the money to be paid at the bar adds up. That card already got declined once today, and both she and Jo don’t want Dean to deal with the same embarrassment the youngest Singer had to go through at the show office earlier. “This round’s on me,” Y/N decides, digging up her own card from her back pocket. “You don’t have to do that,” he objects under his breath, trying not to let his pride slip through. “I’ll be glad to,” she counters quickly, not taking no for an answer, turning to the others. “Another beer? Jody? Donna? Glass of wine?” Eagerly, Jo and Benny look up, completely in sync with the two women who they share the table with, all nodding at the offer, all nodding at the offer.

“At least let me pick up the drinks then?” Dean offers before she gets up from her seat, not too keen of his girlfriend paying for him, but knowing that determined look in her eyes well enough to not go against her. She agrees on the compromise with a sigh and gives him her card. “Three beers, two white wines and a coke for me.” “No margarita?” he checks. “No, sticking to the one. I have a ride to win tomorrow,” she explains, adding a smug smile. Dean chuckles at that before he turns around, heading for the bar.

Y/N takes a second to watch him walk away, wondering if she did the right thing. She doesn’t want him or the ranch to pay now that she knows they are low on money while she has plenty, but Dean seemed bothered. She gets it, the man is supposed to pay for the drinks, but this is the twenty-first century; she is just as entitled to pick up the bill as he is.

“Y’know, you don’t have to keep savin’ us,” Jo comments, making sure that Donna and Jody, who are having a laugh with Benny, can’t pick up on the conversation. “It’s okay, Jo,” Y/N assures. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t mind at all.” “I know you don’t, but he might.” She nods at her cousin. “It’s a guy thing. My Dad’s the same way, you should have heard him when he found out you paid the fees because his card didn’t work. Old fashioned country boys seem to think the weight of the world is theirs to carry.” The intern sniggers, hiding her concern. “Well, those country boys need to learn that us girls can take on that weight just fine.”

She glances to the bar again, expecting her boyfriend to return with a tray of drinks, but when people move away and no longer obstruct her view, her breathing hitches. Y/N spots Dean casually leaning on the counter with his elbow, talking to a girl. The young woman is all smiles, raking her fingers through her wavy, blonde locks, the light above the bar shining down and highlighting the chemistry. She looks stunning; slim figure, long legs wrapped in torn jeans, exposing skin of her knees and thighs. When she leans forward while laughing at something he said, her cleavage is on display.

As the color drains from Y/N’s cheeks, Jo follows her friend’s fixated stare, her face falling when she notices the two by the bar. Dean doesn’t cross a line by any means, but it’s clear that the woman who took an interest in the head wrangler has every intention to persuade him. “Who is she? You know her?” Y/N asks, the questions rapid and laced with worry. “Yeah, that’s Jamie Sward,” Jo states. “Please tell me it’s not one of his exes?” She rips her eyes away from the painful sight, shielding her face in embarrassment. “‘Ex’ wouldn’t be the right word, but yeah, they did have an on and off thing in the past,” Jo admits carefully, not wanting to lie to her. “Sis, it’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot. They are probably just talking.” “Her breasts are hanging out of her shirt!” Y/N hisses frustrated, blood rushing to her face now, a contrast to her pale skin tone mere seconds ago.

“So…” Jamie says, taking a sip from her drink while looking over her glass at the handsome wrangler. “What are you up to these days? Still working at Gold Canyon?” “Yeah, kinda became furniture of the place. Don’t think I’ll ever leave to be honest,” he chuckles, watching the bartender preparing the drinks he ordered. “What about you?” “Oh y’know, worked a few bars in Phoenix to pay for college, sulked over the fact that you stopped calling me,” the beautiful blonde returns, the smirk that accompanies her perked eyebrow telling him that she’s not too broken up about it.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rubs the back of his neck, well aware that he ignored her messages the past month and a half. “Don’t sweat it. We weren’t dating. Just having fun, right?” Jamie shrugs casually, setting down her drink again. “Talking about fun, I have a room at Days Inn if you’re interested.”

The offer hangs in the air and it’s only now that Dean realizes he’s on thin ice here. When the blonde cowgirl approached him, somehow it didn’t dawn on him where the conversation was heading towards, simply because he’s not interested in her in the slightest. Ever since he met Y/N, he can’t bring himself to give a damn about any other woman, and Jamie is no exception.

“I’m uh - I’m gonna have to say ‘no’,” he says, almost apologetic, not wanting to hurt her feelings, because she is a sweet girl. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I met someone and things have been really great--” “Wait. Are you taken?” she interrupts, astonished. “Are you serious? You’re in a relationship?” He nods, unable to stop a beaming smirk from showing. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t get why everyone acts so surprised, though.” “C’mon, Dean Winchester. With your reputation?” Jamie snorts. “But hey, no hard feelings. I’m happy for you.”

She means it, he can tell. He gives her an appreciative nod as the bartender sets the last two beers on the carton tray, which Dean picks up from the bar. “Right, I’m gonna get back to my girl. Good to see ya again, James,” he says before he leaves. “You too, Dean. Good luck tomorrow!” she says cheerily, giving him a little wave before she heads off herself.

With a content smile on his face, the head wrangler returns to the table. It’s only after he has given everyone else their drinks and sets down the Coca-Cola bottle in front of his girlfriend that he locks eyes with her and notices the stale, yet anxious look on her face. “What is it?” he wonders. “Jamie seemed awfully friendly,” she comments, fidgeting with the straw of her drink to have something to focus on.

Dean lifts his head slightly as his jaw lowers. He tries not to roll his eyes and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Right, that conversation might have looked a little different from a distance than how it actually went. The penny drops and he turns to face Jo and shoots her a glare. The fact that Y/N has learned the name of the woman he’s been talking to gives away that his cousin apparently revealed more than he would have wanted. “Okay!” Jo takes her cue and clears her throat, deciding that this would be a good time to exit the conversation. “I’m gonna request some songs to dodge the awkwardness. Have fun, you two.” The ranch owner’s daughter quickly sneaks past Dean towards the dancefloor, heading to the stage. Before Dean speaks, he glances aside to make sure the others won’t pick up on their conversation. Deciding that he wants some more privacy, he takes Y/N’s hand and beckons her to come with him to an empty booth on the side.

“Y/N, listen. I don’t know what Jo said--” he starts, before she cuts him off. “- Jo has nothing to do with this. She was actually defending you. Don’t tell her I told you that.” Y/N sits down on the bench next to him, knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be happy with Dean knowing that she actually did something nice for him. God knows he will hold it against her. “Jamie and I were just talking. Yeah, we hung out a couple of times, but I don’t feel anything for her. Hey…” He takes her hand, squeezing it softly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m serious about us before you start believing me, huh?”

He watches her take a breath, contemplating on what to say and on what to feel. Sure, a part of him gets it that she’s not a fan of the women who throw themselves at him. He didn’t like it one bit when Benny took an interest in her either, shutting that down immediately. Still, it hurts, because deep down he knows she assumes he will fall out of line. “I believe you, it’s just that…” She exhales, shaking her head while she doubts herself more by the second. “I don’t believe the girls who have their eye on you have only good intentions.” “You don’t have to worry about Jamie. She’s cool. And considering other flings and what not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they want from me, because I know what I want for myself, and she’s sittin’ right beside me,” he tries to assure her, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one I have eyes for, Yankee.”

She looks up from under her lashes, his soft voice slowly beginning to ease her anxious mind. Dean casting those negative thoughts away only does one thing, though; it makes room for a different kind of self loathing. “God, I’m such a bitch…” she says softly, rubbing her face with her free hand. “No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he dismisses, not wanting her to be so hard on herself. “But I need you to trust me.”

Y/N eyes dart up to his, stunned, realizing that her behavior might have hurt him more than he’s letting on. He avoids her eyes, trying to mask the harm her actions did, but even in the dim light she can detect the damage. Of course she trusts him. She trusts him and Jo more than anyone on the ranch, yet it came across like she didn’t. Damn it, she could kick herself in the head right now. Jealousy isn’t a good look on her, neither is self-consciousness, but sometimes she can’t help but to feel intimidated and overwhelmed. He needs to know that it’s not his fault, though. “Dean, I do trust you,” she promises, lacing her fingers with his, hoping to sooth him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t.” He turns to look at her, allowing his thumb to rub over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Despite her efforts, he can’t quite shake the feeling, but she doesn’t have to know that this bothers him more than it should. And so the corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile as he looks deep into her eyes, and kisses her softly.

The intimate connection brings more peace than they both expect. They have that effect on each other, that instant calm washing over with a small touch or a sweet kiss. It’s during moments like these that the insecurities lose their proof, the sources that are the patronizing and condescending voices in their heads suddenly unreliable.

After a few peaceful seconds which silence his troubled mind, Dean moves his lips from hers, glad to see that the kiss worked the same wonders for Y/N. Her warm eyes look up at him when she leans into his chest. “So we’re okay?” she checks, needing that confirmation. “We’re okay,” he promises, leaving a kiss on her hair.

The music changes, the lead singer persuading the attending guests to move to the dancefloor. As people leave their seats and gather, Jo emerges again and grabs her beer from the barrel table, carefully testing the water before she approaches the couple. “Is the coast clear? I come in peace.” She holds up her hand innocently. “Everything’s good,” Dean states, not just aiming at the bond between him and his cousin. “In that case, can I steal your girlfriend?” Jo asks. “This is such a good song and I for one wanna dance!”

Y/N’s face lights up, fueled by the blonde cowgirl’s contagious smirk. Before she slides out of the booth, though, she shares a look with Dean. “Go, seriously. Have some fun,” he encourages. “You’re not coming?” she wonders. Dean scoffs. “Hell no!” “Oh, come on!” Y/N tries again. “It’s no use, Sis. Dean doesn’t dance. Not good for his John Wayne reputation,” Jo nags, taking her best friend’s hand to pull her to her feet. “Wranglers don’t dance. They ride,” Dean defends, aggrieved. “Alright, tough guy. You go stir in your own juices while you miss out on all the fun.” His cousin twirls around, dragging Y/N with her before she can change her mind.

The most horrible and yet catchy country song ever made sounds from the amplifiers, ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ covered by the band that is rocking it out on stage. A fiddler clad in a charming saloon dress like the women used to wear in the old West has joined them, adding spice with the crisp sound of her instrument. Trying to get her best friend out of her funk, Jo pulls Y/N in the lines that have formed, without missing a beat getting into the choreographed series of steps that every cowgirl knows by heart. Laughing, Y/N joins her, getting the hang of the dance quickly.

Dean has stood up and joined Jody, Donna and Benny at the barrel table, nursing his drink as he watches his Yankee dance it out. He lets the tension flow out of his chest with a deep breath, the ache melting away with the sight of her. The colored lights flick over her features in the same rhythm of the music, her hat hanging between her shoulder blades by the stampede string. Forgetting the troubles for a moment, she copies Jo’s motion, who pretends to rope a lasso above her head as she makes a circle, while shouting out the words back to the lead singer when he points his microphone to the dancing crowd. It makes Dean chuckle.

“Well, that seems too jolly to miss out on,” Benny decides, holding out his elbow for Jody to hook her arm through. “Can I have this dance, darlin’?” “Benny Lafitte, always the charmer,” the woman with pixie hair comments, but takes his offer, leaving just Donna and Dean. They watch their friends, both with a pleased smile on their lips. It’s quiet for a while between old companions as they take in the carefree portrayal. It’s the head wrangler of the Gold Canyon Ranch who eventually breaks the silence. “Thanks for the save.” “What save?” Donna returns, pretending to be oblivious.

He can see by her mischievous smirk that she’s well aware what he’s talking about; her bid on the Pinto at the auction. Donna never intended to buy the two year old stallion. She and Jody spent fifteen grand only an hour prior to the sale, and especially during current times, Dean can’t picture the girls spending another 7500 dollars on a second horse. He knew the moment Donna raised that sign; she was doing them a favor and drove up the price. Dean throws her a knowing look, his eyebrow perked, triggering Donna to drop the act. “That Pinto is a hell of a good horse. Would’ve been a good buy,” she grins. “If only I had done the final bid.” Grinning, he takes a swig of his beer. He appreciates the help, knowing that the two female ranch owners will not spill the financial secret to anyone else in their circle. It’s safe with them, and he considers himself lucky to have friends like that. Everyone needs a hand sometimes, and he’s more than glad that Donna and Jody offered theirs in time of need.

“Anyhoo, I’m gonna join the girls for a dance off. You should join us for a change. I’ll bet your belle would love it,” the broad-smiling woman suggests. “She’s having plenty of fun without me,” he sniggers, watching her belt out the lyrics to the song with Jo. “Okeydokes. But you’re missin’ out, handsome.” Donna winks at him, heading to the dancefloor with a spring in her step.

Dean watches the cheery woman from Minnesota go, but his focus soon darts past her, immediately captured by the sight of Y/N. Damn, they could shut off the power and she would still light up the room. He can’t keep his eyes off her, the familiar swell of his heart once again taking up so much space that it’s hard to breathe. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, not anymore. It used to terrify him, feeling something so strong for a woman he’s known for such a short amount of time. But now when he feels it, it just strengthens his fondness and devotion for the girl who he wishes he had met years ago. Maybe he could have saved her the heartache that has her self-conscious about her place with Dean. Maybe his track record wouldn’t be so long that she would question him. He’s willing to do anything to make up for that time, though.

As Jo and Y/N dance in circles around each other, clapping their hands and laughing, her gaze meets Dean’s. She’s caught off guard by the adoration in his eyes, his smile so warm and affectionate, that she slows her step. The good-looking cowboy she gets to call hers just stands there by himself, adding action to his words. He’s watching her as if she’s the only girl at the party, like she’s the only girl in the world.

Y/N breaks away from her friends and steps towards him, swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. She shook the concern that weighed heavy on her earlier and got her footing back. A cheeky smile plays on her lips and her eyes sparkle, telling Dean instantly she’s up to no good. When she reaches her boyfriend, she takes his forearm between both hands and pulls at it. “Come dance.” “I don’t dance, Yankee,” he refuses, not budging. The music changes to a new song, triggering cheers to rise from the small crowd. The new rhythm has her eyes go wide, then pleading. “Oh, come on. This is a good song to move to!” Y/N begs, using all her strength to shift his tall form.

He stands his ground, surprised at her physical strength, but the stand off is as much for his own sake as for hers. If he lets her go, she’s gonna land flat on her ass, but Dean spares her the embarrassment. The cowboy sighs, not that fond of being at the center of attention anyway, not to mention on the dance floor in this big tent. But how the hell is he going to say ‘no’ to her? “One song,” he complies, strict on the conditions. She jumps into the air excitedly and the delight in her eyes is already worth it. He adjusts his grip and laces his finger through hers, walking towards the dancing group of people, their friends amongst him. Jo’s jaw drops to the floor when she notices Dean on her tail. “How the hell did you manage to drag his sorry ass over here?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can be quite persuasive.”

Her cowboy catches her by surprise when he tightens his hold on her hand, raising it and spinning her. When she comes full circle he pulls her in again, slipping his arm under hers and smoothly transitions into a two step. Completely flabbergasted, she grabs his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. Whoa, where the heck did that come from? “I thought you couldn’t dance!” she giggles, while he leads her across the dancefloor, not missing a step. “Never said that,” he smirks. “I just said I don’t dance.” “Well, you’re dancing now,” Y/N returns, delighted. He chuckles at that, looking deep into her eyes. “Only because the most beautiful girl at the party asked me.”

They nail the routine, even though they’ve never teamed up on the dancefloor before. It’s not a complicated choreography, a simple one-two mixed with some country swing, but apparently it looks impressive enough to earn a ‘yee-haw!’ from Benny. Y/N glances aside when the others rally them on, clapping in the rhythm of the song from the sideline, making room for the couple. Jo gives her two thumbs up, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. She can’t stop her smile reaching from ear to ear when Dean twirls again, not missing the same expression on his face.

The fiddle and guitar work together in harmony, throwing in a variation during the bridge of the song. Having her a little closer than at arms length, his right hand on her higher back, his left hand holding hers out to the side, they continue to move from one end of the open space to the other swiftly. The cowboy is enjoying himself, even though he was being a grump about dancing earlier. How can he not, now that he’s a witness of the pure joy his girl is radiating?

The drummer finishes the song with a ruffle and the music dies down, the band receiving applause from the attending party-goers. Beaming, Y/N looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes, which sparkle every time the spotlight hits them. Dean was right; she’s having a blast, just like he predicted.

Not ready to admit that he doesn’t really want to stop dancing with Y/N, he glances at the musicians, waiting for the next song. He narrows his eyes confused when he spots Donna, who got the attention of the lead singer. The young man has crouched down at the edge of the stage, Donna whispering something in his ear. Dean can see him nod in agreement before he rights himself and grabs the mic stand. “Alright, y’all. I got a special request for a ballad just now. We’re gonna perform an original, so take your lady to the floor. Time to take things a lil’ slower.”

He puts away his electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one, plugging it in. A romantic tune coming from the speakers when he strums the strings. Questioning, Y/N glances up at her boyfriend, almost sheepishly. Dean agreed to one song, which had a totally different vibe to the music that was sounding right now. The wrangler has been nothing but wonderful and sweet with her, but she doesn’t expect him to openly show how much he cares about her, especially with Bobby still present in the tent.

But against the odds, Dean moves his extended hand that was still holding hers closer to his chest, letting it rest there. Gentle fingertips press into her skin as they sink to the small of her back, encouraging her to come close. He looks at her, the playfulness dying down and replaced with something deeper, something even more profound.

I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t. Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say, but I couldn’t. Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering. So here goes nothing.

Comfortable in his arms, Y/N lays her head against his chest, the soft thump of his heart beat and the slow swaying motion calming every nerve that was ever there. She couldn’t feel safer, more sheltered than in this very moment. Right now, she’s the only girl in the world. She couldn’t care less that she’s in the limelight, that everyone is a witness of the bond between them that’s strengthening each day. In fact, she feels proud. Dean stepped on the dance floor, just for her. He is showing a side of him not many are familiar with, just for her. If this doesn’t prove that he’s her man, and no one else's, nothing will.

In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you. And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you. Even though I don’t tell you all the time, you had my heart a long, long time ago. In case you didn’t know.

Careful not to stand on her feet and ruin the moment, Dean continues to slowly sway her from side to side. Softly pressing his cheek against her hair, he shuts his eyes for a second, storing the memory amongst the other precious recollections. God, this feels beyond amazing.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze travels over the faces watching the pairs in front of the stage. Tensing slightly, he notices Bobby, who watches the two slow-dancing. His uncle shoots back a judgemental glare, seemingly not too pleased with the fact that there’s more going on between the supervisor and the intern than he originally thought. The head wrangler looks back guilty, grimacing awkwardly.

“What is it?” Y/N wonders, apparently feeling him stiffening. “I think we’ve been made,” Dean whispers in her ear, dipping down his head slightly. “Bobby?” she assumes, concerned. “What should we… Should we stop?” But Dean shakes his head, not caring about the ranch owner at this point. He’ll get over it, and if there was ever a right time to tell the old man, today, after the wins they so desperately needed, would be the day. “Keep dancing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her hair. Y/N eases, leaning into him again, the space between the two decreased to the minimum. A breath slips from her lips, the air warm against his chest, even through his shirt. He can smell her shampoo lingering in her locks, mixed with her scent that’s so unmistakably hers. Slowly but surely, everything about her is becoming familiar, yet there’s not a single aspect of the woman before him that he takes for granted.

The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine. That did it. There was somethin ‘bout that kiss. Girl you did me in. Got me thinking. I’m thinking. One of the things that I’ve been feeling, it’s time you hear ‘em.

Listening to the words, feeling the music reach his soul, he can’t help but to evaluate the thoughts that cross his mind and the emotions that leave him vulnerable. He knows he’s beyond falling in love at this point, but even if he could, he would never want to go back. Y/N is what he never knew he needed, yet it stuns him when that three word sentence settles on the tip of his tongue. He can’t tell her, though. Not yet. The way he’s holding her right now, how he softly leans into her, is the closest he can get to actually saying it out loud. God, he hopes she knows. Dean silently promises that one day he will tell her. One day.

The cowboy pulls back slightly, dipping his chin to establish eye contact again. The kindest smile awaits him, her beautiful orbs glazed over with emotion. She’s not sad, though, quite the opposite. She’s moved. No one has ever made her feel this whole. This is the true definition of happiness, being in his arms, him looking at her like he’s doing so now. Their noses brush when Dean leans in, then he moves his mouth to hers and captures her lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, just like the music, just like the dance. But of all the intimate moments they shared so far, this has to be the greatest one yet. The thought swirled through her head before, but in this very moment, she is sure: she loves Dean. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

You’ve got all of me. I belong to you. Yeah, you’re my everything.

From a distance, the company of four watches the couple. The dim light coming from the strings of lightbulbs above the dancefloor falls over them like a soft blanket, the spots by the stage illuminating their silhouettes. The vision before them is the definition of romance, one that silences the normally so chatty personalities on the sideline.

Jody and Donna sigh collectively, swooning at the sight. “I can’t...” The blonde ranch owner swoons. “I can’t with these two.” “They are so good together,” Jody agrees, endeared. Jo nods, proud of her friend, and secretly also of her cousin. “Gotta say, never thought I’d see it happen. If he can settle down, there’s still hope for all of us.” “You guys can thank me with a beer,” Benny sniggers, his eyes not leaving the pair either.

His comment earns a look from the three women in his presence. The farrier is about to move a beer bottle to his mouth, but pauses the action when he feels their eyes burning in the side of his head, demanding an explanation. “Who do you think talked sense into the bastard and told him to get his act together, huh?” he brags, taking a sip of his drink. “Who do you think told him to never let go of that girl and that he better put a ring on her finger?” Jody says, earning impressed nods. “Who do you think requested this song?” Donna bounces back victoriously. “Well then,” Jo holds out her bottle, waiting for the others to join her in a toast. “To the matchmakers!”

Jody is the last one to raise her wine, her eyes not leaving the sight before them. “To love,” she adds. The four agree to that, clinking their glasses together. After all, it’s what life is all about. Friends, family and that one person you’re going to share the rest of your life with. They repeat her wise words with abandon. “To love!”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-one here

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velvetthunder1999 · 4 years ago

Text

All the time on Earth

Part 4 - Butterbeer Moments

Summary: You start to spend more and more time with George, and the two of you slowly start to getting to know each other

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.4K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

- Edited for grammar -

The three of you were sitting in the common room, leaning over the same piece of parchment on the table. Fred was doodling the last line of numbers on the bottom, while you and George were watching him with great anticipation.

“Finished!” Fred dropped the quill and tossed the parchment towards you “What do you think? Brilliant, if you ask me.”

You took the paper and looked over the numbers. You bit your lip, frowning.

“Oi, she doesn’t like it!” exclaimed Fred.

“Or she just cannot read your rubbish handwriting,” answered George to his brother, not taking his eyes off you. “Y/N? How is it?”

“It’s — not bad.”

“Not bad?” Fred was over the top acting offended. “This is the best price-product ratio there is!”

“Well, not exactly,” you said, pointing at the paper. “Look, here. You are offering one piece of Ton-Tongue Toffee for a galleon and a fake wand for three. But the Toffees take much more effort and money to manufacture than the wand.”

“So what are you saying?” asked George. “We can’t raise the price. Otherwise they won’t sell.”

“I’m saying if you wanna keep the price, try combine the two. Have you thought about releasing a booklet? People collect... let’s say ten signitures from you, one after every puchase and they’d get 10% off the next thing they buy. Sell the booklets individually for two galleons but put them in the box with the Toffees and the wand for free. Sell the boxes for five. Then people would buy it more and you get more money for some extra paper. You’ll make profit.”

The twins were staring at you, unusually quiet. You were quite satisfied with yourself. You were only thinking in the way you usually do when running your own business. It worked out for you, three years of success and counting. You didn’t mind helping out Fred and George, since they didn’t sell anything similar to the stuff you were selling.

“Well?” you asked impatiently. “What do you think?”

“You make it so complicated yet so easy” said Fred.

“George?”

“I like it. We can make more money but still not cheating our customers. It’s clean.”

“Yeah, all right,” Fred took the quill again and started writing. “Five galleons you say? Good. I’m showing it to Lee, ask what he’s thinking.”

He snitched the parchment and walked over to the window where Lee and Angelina were talking. You smiled at George and gathered your stuff.

“Well, I have to go to the library. Need to write my Charms essay.”

“To the library?” asked George, distraught. “It’s the middle of the winter break!”

“Well, some of us have to study for the exams, you know.”

“But you’re coming to the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow, right?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you said, putting your bag on your shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” —— You were playing Exploding Snap with Ginny by the window when you heard a loud cheer from the middle of the common room. It didn’t take you by surprise to see Fred standing on the table, juggling empty butterbeer bottles while George was standing by, raising his wand, navigating more and more glasses into his brother’s hand.

“It’s almost midnight,” Ginny said. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

She put down her cards and went to grab two glasses, but her seat didn’t stay empty for long. George left Lee the responsibility to throw the glasses at Fred, and sat down next to you instead.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here alone,” he grinned. “But it’s all right now, I’m here to save you.”

“Yes, thank you for saving me from thirty seconds of loneliness,” you laughed, but let out a soft shriek when all the cards exploded on the table.

George picked them up and organized them into one pack. “Actually, I came here to ask you if you wanted to place a bet. The next task is almost here, you know.”

“Yesterday you scolded me for studying during the winter break but now you wanna talk about business?” you teased him. He seemed to like it when you did that.

“C’mon Y/N, business is different than some essay.”

“Wait, so asking for my money is always appropriate?” you pushed his shoulder playfully.

“All right, what about leaving the money out of it? Place your bet, and if you win I buy you a butterbeer at Hogsmeade after the task.”

“Please don’t let him make you gambling, Y/N,” said Ginny, returning with the drinks. She shot a suspicious look at her brother. “You’re not asking her to place bets, are you?

“It’s all right Ginny, George wouldn’t win a sickle from me if I didn’t let him,” you smiled at the boy, who was now leaning closer.

“But the Hogsmeade bet is on?”

“Yeah, sure. One butterbeer on Harry finishing first. Deal?” you offered your hand but when he shook it you felt your stomach jump.

“Deal. Grab your glasses ladies, it’s almost a brand new year!”

George had a really fun night after that, but sometimes he’d catch himself staring at you. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. You two had only been talking for a week and a half after all. Although, he enjoyed talking to you. You always seemed to match his cheerful tone, and you didn’t mind when he was joking around.

He shouted happy new years to you one more time when you decided to go to sleep. You waved him goodbye and he felt that nice warm feeling in his chest again. Was it so wrong, making new friends? He didn’t think so.

——

The next morning everyone woke up a bit late, and the majority of the students decided to hit the library, using the last day of the winter break to prepare for the next week’s classes. George however, had a different idea.

“Please Y/N,” begged the boy. “You already did all your homework. We should just go down to Hogsmeade, really.”

“I don’t know George, I’m really tired,” you said, massaging your temple. You didn’t get much sleep last night. “What about next weekend?”

“We should really do it this weekend,” said Fred, butting in. “We need to ask at Zonko’s if they’d sell our products. And at Honeydukes, too.”

“And why do you need me for that?”

“Well, you and the less handsome twin could talk to one place, me and Lee to the other. Meet up at the Three Broomsticks?”

George threw a pillow at Fred, but agreed to the idea. You also said yes, knowing that you’d just lie on the couch all day anyway.

The four of you headed down to the village, Fred and George walking up front while you were talking with Lee behind them. Then when the first houses started to show, you went separate ways.

“I shouldn’t have dressed this warm” you said, getting rid of your scarf. “It’s really hot today.”

“Yeah, I know” answered George, pointing at the ground. “Snow��s melting already.”

“Good. I don’t like snow.”

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you like he had just seen a ghost.

“What did you say?”

“What? I don’t like it.” you said. “It just makes walking so much harder.”

“All right now, stop,” he said, shaking his head while started walking again. “There’s nothing better than a good ol’ snowfight!”

“Yeah? So winter’s your favorite, then?”

“Yeah — No,” he shrugged, smile on his face. “I like every season for something else. You? I’m guessing winter’s a taboo.”

“I like winter — from the indoors,” you tried to save yourself. “Watching the snow from someplace where it can’t touch you. But I like autumn. It means school is starting again.”

“Well, that was an incredibly horrible thing to say.”

“What? Why?”

He started mocking you playfully.

“School is starting again!”

You pretended to be offended, then continued in a genuine tone.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like being here.”

“No, I like being here.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated.

“Well, mum, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

He glanced at you. You didn’t want to push him, though.

“Or don’t. If you don’t want to.”

“It’s all right. It’s just that — that mum really tries to push us. She wants us to study hard, work in the Ministry like Percy. But it’s not for us. Not for me and Fred, anyway.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

You still had two years left of Hogwarts, but you knew how hard it was to decide what you wanted to do later.

“Well — er — ” it was the first time you saw a shy smile on George’s face. “We want to open a joke shop.”

“Like Zonko’s?”

“Almost. Only bigger and better than that. With more pizzazz.”

“Yeah, I can see you doing that. I mean, if you keep making those Nosebleed things — and they actually work...” you gave him a snarky look and he laughed “...then why not do it? You’re not gonna be able to work for the Ministry if you just hate every minute of it.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded ceremoniously before opening the door to Honeydukes. He let you go in first, then you two headed straight to the cash register. While George was haggling, you were staring out the window, watching the street behind the shop. Just as you were turning away, you saw a huge black dog crossing the sidewalk. You were quite fond of dogs, so you followed it with your eyes until it disappeared behind a dumpster.

“All right, we’re ready,” said George, claiming your attention for himself again. “Three Broomsticks?”

“Let’s go,” you agreed, walking out the shop. “So, what did she say?”

“She said she’d talk to his husband, but she seemed to be interested. We should come back next week, though.”

“That’s a good start.”

Fred and Lee were not around yet so you sat down to one of the tables in the corner. You ordered two butterbeers and you finally got rid of your warm coat, after it turned out to be such an unnecessary item on this bright day.

“So what about the rest of your family?” you asked. “You said Percy is working at the Ministry.”

“Yeah, my dad also. He collects muggle items, too.”

“Really?”

“Well, more like garbage, actually,” he laughed. “Dad loves muggles. Finds them interesting. Mum thinks he’s mad, but — ” he shrugged “— it’s a hobby, you know.”

“And what about your other siblings? Charlie was just finishing in the year I was sorted.”

“Yeah, he works in Romania now. Studies dragons there. He brought the ones for the first task, too.”

“What, really?” your jaw dropped, then you took a sip. “Well, he clearly deserves all the money he’s earning cause that seems to be the most dangerous job I’ve ever heard of.”

George laughed then he drank, too.

“Yeah, and my other brother works in Egypt. Have you been?”

“Not really.”

“We visited him a year ago, it was amazing. Dad won a prize at the Ministry so we had the mon — er — we had the time to visit everything. Fred and I tried to lock Percy in a pyramid but mum didn’t let us.”

“I wonder why,” you giggled at the sight of his reminiscing face. “So what else did you do there — other than torturing your brother, of course?”

He told you everything about ‘one of his best summers’ as he called it, and you didn’t mind just listening, watching him talk. If two weeks ago someone had said to you that you’re gonna be here sitting with George Weasley, you wouldn’t see the point in that at all. But in this moment it felt like one of the most natural things you could do.

“Do you need another one?” George asked you as your drinks slowly started to run out. You hesitated, glanced at Madam Rosmerta, then turned back to George.

“If I do something will you tell on me?”

“What?” George asked, curious.

You checked the bar again, then took out your wand and held it under the table. You pointed at the glasses, said the refilling charm non-verbally, then watched how the glasses were full of butterbeer again a second later.

You looked at George, a shy expression on your face. You didn’t know what he was gonna say.

“I don’t always do this,” you started. “And I always pay for the first one. But sometimes money just runs short and I can’t always do something about it.”

You casted your eyes down. Suddenly you weren’t sure sharing your secret was a good idea. But George understood.

“No, I get it. I don’t always have much money either. I know it’s — mum and dad do the best they can but, you know — there’s a lot of us” he nodded.

“That’s why you’re trying to sell your fake wands?”

“Mm. Any way is a good way if it makes money. How did you do it, though?”

“Did what?”

“The spell. To refill the beer. You don’t learn non-verbal magic in your year. We only just started doing that.”

“Oh. Well, I learned it by myself. I had to, if I wanted to do stuff like this, you know.”

“But it’s still advanced level of magic.”

“Well, everything’s achievable with enough practice.”

“Blimey,” he said, quite amused. “You really are something.”

You felt the warmth in your chest again. You shot a grateful smile towards the boy sitting next to you.

“Thanks.”

“Isn’t it exhausting? Always studying, I mean.”

“I study while I’m home in the summer.”

“You study in your summer break? That’s outrageous!”

“Don’t really have anything else to do anyway.”

“Well, we can figure out something, go somewhere this summer. I mean, if it’s alright with your parents as well.”

“I don’t think they’d really mind. They’d be delighted, me leaving again.”

“Are they really that bad?” he asked, sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said in a low voice, then spoke in apathy. “It’s okay, though. I got quite used to it by now.”

George opened his mouth to answer but two extra glasses appeared on the table and chairs creaked on the floor next to you.

“You two were really fast!” Fred exclaimed while he and Lee took a seat. “You even had time to start drinking without us. How was Honeydukes, Georgie? What did they say?”

George needed a second to understand what the bloody hell Fred was talking about. He looked at you, confused, then to Lee, then tried to come up with some useful information. But his mind was elsewhere. From the corner of his eye he was watching you. And for the first time in his life he wished if only his brother had arrived a few minutes later.

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mankai-onlyfans · 5 years ago

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"Hey guys!" Kazunari bursts into the lounge, tablet in hand, and flashes everyone a grin. "Check this out!"

Sakyo looks up, his eye already twitching. "We're in the middle of a meeting, Miyoshi."

Kazu nods, his energy not diminished in the slightest from Sakyo's chilly demeanor. "Yeah, I know! That's why I-"

"Then please let us finish." Sakyo cuts him off, gesturing towards Izumi to continue.

She gives Kazunari an apologetic smile. "Like I was saying guys, we're facing a real problem here. With everyone in quarantine, we can't put on any shows for the time being. It's just not safe."

"And without selling tickets to performances," Sakyo adds. "Our profits will go through the floor."

Sakuya makes a noise of disbelief from where he sits on the couch beside his fellow company members. "What?! But does that mean-"

"All of our hard work, down the drain..." Tsumugi says somberly, his brows furrowed with concern.

Izumi nods. "We can't let this place go bankrupt after all we've done to save it. That's why we have to figure out a way to earn money while everyone is staying home." She looks around the room at the twenty actors, all under her guidance. "Any ideas?"

Kazunari waves his hand around in the air. "Ooh, I have a-!"

"Maybe we could livestream some performances from here." Tasuku suggests. "Like one act plays, people could buy virtual tickets."

"That's a good idea!" Izumi points at him and turns to write it down on the whiteboard.

"But how would we advertise? All we have is the company website." Sakyo points out.

"Oh true." Izumi slumps. "We can't do street acts like we normally would to promote."

"And that's how we garner new fans." Sakyo says. "I guarantee that we would only get a tenth of our usual audience, maximum, without proper promotion."

Izumi hesitantly scribbles down the idea.

"Guys-" Kazunari starts to say, but this time it's Omi who interrupts him.

"What if we record videos and upload them online? Like vlogs and things. They're pretty popular right now, and I could help with filming."

Sakyo shakes his head. "That won't be showcasing our talents as actors. We need something more marketable."

"Guys, what about-"

"I know!" Citron interupts Kazunari this time, and jumps up from his seat. "We could make stuffings of ourselves and sell them!"

"Stuffings?" Tenma looks appalled.

"I am NOT being taxidermied, okay?" Taichi whines, curling up and hugging his knees with a shudder.

"I think he means 'stuffies'. Like plush toys." Itaru chimes in, busy as always on his phone.

"Plush toys?" Muku asks, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

"Yes!" Citron exclaims. "One for each of us. Yuki could sew them! A little Citron, a little Itaru-" he points to himself, and Itaru in turn. "-and a little Muku!" He finishes, leaning over to pat the pink haired boy on the head. "Soft, squishy stuffings!"

"Marshmallows...?" Hisoka asks, only hearing half the conversation.

"Wha-?" Muku blushes, seemingly overwhelmed by the idea. "B-but who would want a plushie of a shrimpy, no-good, wannabe actor like me...?"

Misumi hugs him with a chuckle. "You're not shrimpy, you're fun sized!" He pulls a triangular pebble out of his hoodie pocket and hands it to Muku to comfort him.

Yuki scoffs in agreement. "And if anyone here is a no-good, wannabe actor, it's the hack." He sniffs, shooting a glare in Tenma's direction.

Tenma balks and is probably about to retort when Izumi claps her hands for their attention. "Plushies would be a great idea. But I'm not sure if our fanbase is big enough to want to buy that kind of merchandise."

Sakyo hums his agreement. "We would need to weigh the cost of production with potential sales revenue. But Izumi is right, without a strong enough following, the idea would be a waste of time and effort."

"GUYS!" Kazunari steps into the middle of the room, waving his arms around frantically.

Everyone looks to him, slowly falling silent. "What's up, Kazunari?" Izumi asks.

Kazu lets out a breath of relief, happy to finally have everyone's full attention. "I have the perfect solution!"

"Care to enlighten us?" Sakyo asks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

Kazu nods and whips out his tablet. "We need a way to make money, while still growing our fanbase and showcasing our talents, right?"

"That's the idea." Juza grunts.

"Say no more! I found this great website, where you can make an account and post exclusive content in exchange for moolah." He turns the tablet around and shows it to Sakyo, who adjusts his glasses to examine it. "They have multiple levels of subscriptions, so it's affordable for the casual fan, and super fans can pay more to get more content. Boom! Monthly income, and a way to grow our skills and fanbase."

Kazunari grins proudly at his little speech. Sakyo's brows lift slightly as he examines the price points. "This... might work. What's the name of this website?"

"Patreon." Itaru says, reaching for a sip of his soda.

"Nope! Onlyfans." Kazu replies.

Itaru promptly sprays soft drink all over the couch, as well as Tsuzuru and Banri.

"Ah, shit! Watch it, man..." Banri grumbles, while Tsuzuru wearily hands Itaru a tissue and claps him on the back while he tries to choke in a breath.

"Are you..." Itaru coughs, his eyes watering. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kazu asks, perplexed.

"It's just that... people sometimes..." Itaru tries to stammer out what he means to say, uncharacteristically flustered.

"People use that site for all sorts of things." Azuma chimes in helpfully, his hands folded in his lap. "It's very profitable."

"Right? That's what I'm saying!" Kazunari shoots a finger gun and a wink at Azuma, thanking him for agreeing. "It's like, totally a great way to make money. And check it out, the content is exclusive to people who subscribe, so it builds hype and mystery around what's posted."

"Oh, it's no mystery." Azuma chuckles to himself, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"So, what do you say, Frooch?" Kazunari turns pleading eyes to Sakyo. "I'll manage all the networking for it, and I'm sure Itaroon wouldn't mind promoting it either, right dude? You have a bunch of followers!"

At this, Itaru's cheeks turn curiously pink. "I-I'm... people might think..."

Sakyo stands up. "Very well. Miyoshi, you can set up this Onlyfans promotional account for the company."

Kazunari fist pumps the air in victory. Sakyo points a finger at him. "However, I expect you to take this seriously, alright? If I don't see profits by the end of the month, I'm pulling the plug."

"You got it, chief!" Kazu cheers, giving him a salute. Then Sakyo glances at everyone else. "I expect you all to cooperate and do as Miyoshi tells you. He's in charge of this project, but we all have to participate for it to be successful. Remember, this is catered to our audience."

"I'm sure they'll be overjoyed," Azuma smiles cryptically.

Sakyo then adjourns the meeting and leaves, taking Izumi with him to talk about budgeting. The others all chatter over each other, bursting with questions about this new endeavour.

"Whoa, whoa! One at a time, guys." Kazu laughs, thrilled to be the center of attention.

Homare raises his hand. Kazunari gestures for him to go ahead.

"How frequently will we need to post? I require inspiration to make anything truly worthwhile." He chuckles, twirling his hand in the air dramatically. "I cannot create on demand, you know."

Kazunari snaps his fingers. "Cool question. Answer is: whenever you want! Subscribers will be paying the same fee no matter how much we post, but posting more often will get more people talking about us!"

Sakuya raises his hand next. "What kind of content should we make? There's a lot of options."

While considering Sakuya's question, Kazunari either ignores or doesn't hear Itaru choke again. "I'd say we should do lots of stuff! We can post vlogs, like Omimi suggested, and scripted stuff, like Tax's idea. It'll give us good practice and show off our skills."

"What about fanservice?" Azuma says innocently, raising his hand as he does so. "Wouldn't it help us grow closer with our fans if we take their questions and requests?"

"Fanservice! Yes." Kazu agrees.

Itaru purses his lips, his eyes full of alarm he stares down at the carpet.

"You know, that's a good idea." Tsuzuru says thoughtfully. "Even though our fanbase is growing, we haven't really interacting with them on a personal level."

"Trust me, this will make it super duper personal." Kazunari assures him eagerly. Itaru tries to hold in either a laugh or a sob, his lips beginning to twitch from the effort.

"Maybe we should look at some other accounts to get ideas." Masumi suggests.

"Great idea!" Kazunari agrees, lifting his tablet. But before he can search, Itaru and Azuma are both on their feet.

"Don't-!" Itaru snatches the tablet away. "I... I have to get my login bonus." He gives the weak excuse and quickly makes sure Kazunari hasn't accidentally called up any questionable content.

Azuma pats Kazunari on the back, smiling apologetically. "I think we should come up with something unique, without any influence..."

"Y-yeah, sure." Kazunari looks between them, his eyes wide with confusion.

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s-tier · 4 years ago

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As some of you guys may have noticed on Twitter this past week or so, there were a couple different hashtags trending for short bursts of time like SaveSmash, FreeMelee, among others. I'd like to take the time to help give those out of the loop some context because there has been lots of misinformation going around.

First, if I get any facts mistaken let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it.

On 19 November 2020, Smash Bros tournament series, The Big House announced on Twitter that they have received a cease and desist from Nintendo of America (NOA) “primarily due to the usage of Slippi” and will cancel both the Super Smash Bros Melee and Super Smash Bros Ultimate online events. The Big House series has been hosting Smash tournaments for almost 10 years, and the more recent installments were even partnered with Nintendo.

Earlier this year, 22 June 2020, Project Slippi releases a version of Dolphin (a Nintendo Gamecube emulator) that includes features new to Melee like rollback netcode, integrated matchmaking, replay files, complex game statistics, and more. Rollback netcode is easily the most important addition, giving players an online experience that’s significantly better than what most modern fighting games provide. It’s especially valuable in a time where the world is fighting an ongoing pandemic and gathering dozens of players to compete in-person poses a major health risk. I could gush over how incredible Fizzi36 and the rest of the Project Slippi developers are for being able to incorporate rollback netcode into Melee, but that’s not the point of this post. Just need to know that the game’s ISO file and its contents do not need to be modified in any way in order for Slippi to do what it does.

Now, despite their claims, NOA is lying. As the copyright holder, Nintendo indeed has the legal right to shut down events, streams, and media that include any of their intellectual property. Most game companies don’t assert this right because, unlike Nintendo, they know it’s not a very good idea. However, based on The Big House’s initial statement and NOA’s follow up statement to Polygon on the C&D, the tournament was shut down for other reasons: game emulation/modification and piracy. First let me say that I’m not a lawyer and would rather have someone better suited explain; but from my understanding, Slippi would not be considered illegal modification of Melee, the game, since everything is done with Dolphin, the emulator, instead. And while it is possible that numerous Melee players may be competing on illegally obtained copies of the game and don’t own their own physical copy, the responsibility falls on Nintendo to prove it.

Some suggest The Big House takes this to court, but with how big Nintendo is, many agree that the amount of time and money needed to settle the case would be too high of a price for anybody in the community to pay. So is fighting for The Big House’s online tournament a lost cause? For this event in particular, most likely yes. It’s been over a week since the C&D was issued and despite the public backlash, NOA has yet to retract its decision. However, the Melee community is already making moves in response, and for the average person, all we can do is spread awareness and see what happens next.

News of The Big House shutting down had spread far and wide, trending on Twitter for some time, reaching influencers like moistcr1tikal, LudwigAhgren, and Mutahar(SomeOrdinaryGamers), several news outlets like Kotaku have covered the story, and gained support from various other competitive gaming communities including ones that play the games that Nintendo actually supports like Splatoon and ARMS.

Few days later on 23 November 2020, an anonymous Twitter account posts a Twitlonger that contains a list of claims exposing how Nintendo has actively gone out of its way to prevent the growth of the competitive Smash scene for many years as far back as 2006. Nintendo’s actions have not only have been a detriment toward the Melee community, but all the newer Smash games and beloved fan-game Project M, as well. Many figures in the Smash community agree that most or even all the statements made in that document are legit, and I highly recommend reading it for yourself and forming your own opinion.

I won’t go over everything covered in the Twitlonger, but in the past Nintendo famously tried to shut down the Melee tournament back at EVO 2013. Melee earned its spot at the event after raising almost $100,000 for breast cancer research. After a day of constant public backlack after the story reached the top of Reddit, Nintendo stepped down from their decision, and after that came one of the most memorable and impactful Smash events in history.

The information brought public by that first Twitlonger caused others came forward with their own claims against Nintendo, exposing their actions against these communities happening behind the scenes. These statements come from members of the ARMS, Project M, and Splatoon communities. (If I come across more, I’ll try to add them here.)

These developments, soon after The Big House’s C&D, made a lot of people upset towards Nintendo. While there are several ways to go about informing others and expressing your frustration with the situation, demanding fans of Nintendo to boycott their products will not help. Doing so would probably just make less informed people not want to support the Smash scene at all.

All this noise has made many people question what the Melee scene was after. Would a rerelease on modern hardware be the solution? No, if anything, it can give Nintendo more leverage to continue this abusive relationship with the competitive community. The Melee rerelease would also likely be the PAL (European/Australian) version of the game, but the community as a whole has already abandoned it in favor of NTSC (Japanese/American). Do Melee players want Nintendo to put up their own money and sponsor competitive events? In the past, yes, but after many, many years of no shown support thus far that is no longer the case. With how malicious Nintendo has been towards the Smash community over the years, many just want the company to turn a blind eye and leave Melee alone at this point.

Mentioned earlier, the Melee community has already taken action in response to the C&D. The general plan as of now is to respectfully spread awareness and continue announcing online tournaments. In December, Ludwig is hosting a big online Melee tournament using Slippi where the winner decides which charity organization will receive the prize money of tens of thousands of dollars. Fizzi released an updated version of Slippi with a spectator mode that enables smaller, independent tournament organizers to run online competitions without needing to rely on streaming, Discord’s screen share feature, or other methods of broadcasting gameplay. Many content creators and players are also taking the time to express how much Melee means to them and how the competitive Smash scene has positively influenced their lives.

Somehow, despite everything exposed up until now, people still actively defend Nintendo as if they did nothing wrong at all and tend to base their arguments on flawed logic and/or incorrect information (you’ll see a lot of it on the Nintendo subreddit). For the remainder of this post, I’ll try to break down a few common misconceptions and explain why Nintendo should not be defended by anyone that isn’t getting paid by them.

Thank you for reading.

________________

“The competitive Melee scene hurts Nintendo’s bottom line.”

Super Smash Bros Melee has been out of production for many years now, and Nintendo has yet to release it on modern consoles.

The competitive Smash community has historically been supportive of Nintendo’s current products at the time.

Assumes the existence of competitive Melee takes opportunities away from other Nintendo games’ existing communities, when in reality it was Nintendo’s own poor community management.

Assumes that competitive scenes negatively affects Nintendo’s brand and is unwelcoming to casual players and newcomers when companies like Blizzard and Valve pump millions into their competitive scenes knowing how profitable they are.

“Nintendo doesn’t want to support events for a scene full of abusive community members.”

Claims like these are ESPECIALLY BAD because it disrespects those who have been victimized by members of their community.

Implies that exposing and ejecting abusive people from the community, and attempting to create a safer environment is bad for the scene.

Assumes people in other communities aren’t capable of doing the same horrible things.

Long before all the allegations came out, Nintendo had already invited several of these community figures to events in order to promote their games.

“Just play the new game lmao Melee players don’t know how to move on”

Has been said for ages, and clearly those saying so don’t get it.

This is literally what Nintendo wants.

“Melee players have always been after the money.”

THERE’S HARDLY ANY MONEY TO BE WON IN THE FIRST PLACE. NO THANKS TO NINTENDO.

If playing video games for money was all Melee players want, they would not be competing in a game this difficult to be good at where tournament winnings can’t reliably pay the bills.

The majority of competitive Melee players are only in it for the passion, and being able to make a living through competing in a game they love is the dream.

“Competitive players take the fun out of games! Why should I support them?”

Unless you can’t read, or are some corporate bootlicker with no sense of empathy, I see no reason not to be supportive.

This whole situation is about a dedicated community that has existed for almost 20 years trying to play their favorite game with each other online in the midst of a pandemic, and for no good reason a big company will not let them.

“Supporting Melee and/or boycotting Nintendo means I have to give up my favorite games!”

No, buy and play what you want, how you want.

Do know that Nintendo is a big company with no intent on being your friend. Stop putting them up on a pedestal.

Boycotting Nintendo won’t do anything anyway; they’re too big, and the FreeMelee movement isn’t far-reaching enough to cause any significant harm to Nintendo’s profits.

"ACTUALLY, Nintendo is within their right to shut down events. They are allowed to kill Melee if they want.”

Yes, and Nintendo is within their right to suck my nuts.

Just because it’s legal doesn’t necessarily make it the right thing to do.

#won't blame you for not reading this; shit's kinda long lol

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food-truck-guide · 4 years ago

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HOW MUCH IS IT TO RENT A FOOD TRUCK

Different food truck cuisines, locations, number of people attending the event and time of year are all areas which will determine the price on how much it is to rent a food truck for your event.

How Much Is It To Rent A Food Truck

Are you curious how much it is to rent a food truck? This is actually a common question which people ask all the time. In this article, I will explain everything you need to know about renting a food truck so you can make the best choices. There are many different factors you should consider BEFORE reaching out to find a truck. These areas consist of type of cuisines, the number of people who will be attending, along with many other contributing factors. Its ok though, you don’t have to know every mundane detail. I will walk you through the basics, so you can get the perfect truck to your gathering! Looking for a food truck online can be a bit of a pain. There are many websites to look at and research. Word of mouth is a great way to start, but ultimately you will want to research food truck websites, social media, and make some good old fashioned telephone calls to get all the information you are looking for. This can be time consuming. To save you time, a tip is to check out directory websites that deal with food trucks and restaurants only. One of these recommended sites are https://savannahstreetfood.com. They have a nice list of food trucks which you can read about, gather information and start contacting directly from the website. We will talk about this more in a few. Being a former food truck owner, I know what trucks like to hear and what trucks sort of don’t like to hear. I know what will make them jump to your event instead of just merely accepting it. Remember, food trucks are a business just like restaurants, just mobile. They are looking out for their business just like any other business out there. Truckers try to be fair with their pricing, but also need to ensure they turn a profit.

Why Cuisines Help Determine How Much It Is To Rent A Food Truck

Let's face it, you want the best food truck for your party and/or gathering there is at the best price. There is one little problem, which do you choose? There are a lot of different food options from burgers to seafood to grilled cheese and everything in between. Which will benefit your gathering? You wouldn’t call a Seafood truck to do burgers and vice versa, so it is important to nail down what sort of cuisine you want. Determining Cuisine Determining the type of cuisine is SUPER important before starting your search and contacting any trucks. Trust me, as a former truck owner, there is not much worse than a customer coming to the window with no idea what the truck even serves. This usually ends in disappointment. The customer either feels like it was a waste of their time to talk to the truck or they settle for something they didn’t want leaving them with a bad taste for the truck (no pun intended). You can easily eliminate this issue by deciding what type of cuisine you would like ahead of time. Food Truck Websites There are many of websites which can help you choose your cuisine. This requires knowing what terms to search for and clicking around to find what you want from each and every food truck owner’s website (assuming they have a website). As mentioned earlier, if you are in the Savannah GA area upi can look into a directory Like Savannah Street Food. This type of site allows you search by whatever you are looking for directly from the home page. Whether it be the cuisine, location or business name, it’s easy to find what you’re looking for. There are many other websites that can help you with finding trucks in your area as well. For example, Roaming Hunger or Foodtrucksin. These sites cover locations throughout the United States, not just the Savannah and surrounding areas.

Cuisine and Pricing

Don’t forget to think about pricing when going with a cuisine. As we all know, a lobster roll will be much more expensive than an empanada, so just make sure you are comfortable with that. Those few dollars per person extra could throw off your budget completely!

Food Truck Options

Alright, you have your cuisine picked out? Great! Moving onto the selections of different options per truck. Let’s say you decided on a taco truck. Now, it is time to pick what sort of menu items you want for the party. Food trucks usually offer your choice of a main menu item, a drink, a dessert or a mix of them all at different costs per selection. The normal item of a taco would be one price. Now if you want a drink, that would be more and a side a few more dollars. What about dessert? Does this truck do desserts? That is another good question to ask while finding out cuisines as well. If they happen to have the dessert you want, great, but that will raise the overall price per guest cost so just be sure to check. Food Truck Minimums To help maintain an overall worth, a truck may have minimums in place. Other trucks may have contracts to be signed to ensure the truck makes a certain agreed amount to prevent any loss in revenue. Because we all have that friend who says their coming, but never shows up! There is also a final option. You can have the guests pay for themselves. In this case, the truck may require a small fee to ensure they cover their costs of driving out there. In this instance, its everyone for themselves just like it would be if you went to a festival and decided to get food from a vendor. You would need to pay for whatever food you want. Shop Around Don’t be afraid to reach out to other businesses to get pricing as well. Sometimes a cuisine might be great, but a bit too expensive. This is where you can shop around to find the right foods for the right price. Usually you can find many different trucks of the same cuisine.

Location

Another major factor to consider when renting a food truck is location. Obviously, a big city truck will be more expensive than a smaller truck as there may be more demand for the big city truck. More demand equals more money. Parking And Permit Costs Every location has different rules and regulations pertaining to food trucks as well. Some municipalities have multiple fees and/or permits. Those fees sometimes can be incorporated into the operation of the truck, meaning a few more dollars. A food truck permit in Savannah, Georgia is around 200 dollars whereas a food truck permit in New Jersey would be more. Knowing your location can have a definite impact on some pricing. Mileage Fees There are trucks that may charge mileage. This fee is usually not the case, but it is worth reading the fine print to ensure you are not being charged for any mileage. Most trucks will not charge a mileage fee unless it is very far away, but this fee may be roped into contracts or minimum payments so read carefully.

Number Of Guests

The main contributing factor for how much it costs to rent a food truck would be the number of people attending your event. It simply costs more to accommodate 150 people versus 75 people, because more is involved; more product, more help, and more fuel. How Long Do You Need Your Truck? How long are you looking to have a truck at your event? If you are planning to have 175 people attend your event, you will need to have the truck present for longer than 30 minutes. Otherwise, there will not be enough time to server everyone. From my experience, trucks usually operate on a 2-hour time slot with extra hours costing a reduced fee per hour. For example, let's say you want to book your taco truck and you have 175 people attending with the event lasting around 4 hours. The truck may say that it is 20 dollars per person for 2 hours and every additional hour is 10 dollars per person. Depending if the party is big enough, the truck may simply waive the additional fee for extra hours. Multiple Trucks Using the scenario above, having a guest list of 175 attendees could end up being too much of a strain on one truck. In this case two trucks would be needed to cater to the amount of people attending also raising the overall cost per person.

What’s The Weather Outside?

Alright, you have cuisine, menu options, and headcount/timeframe all complete and are ready to book your food truck for the party. Awesome! However, there is one teeny tiny little thing to consider when renting a truck. Weather! Mother nature sometimes has a mind of her own and can make your party go from great to non-existent in a flash. Keep up to date with weather predictions and have a backup plan if the weather is not so great. Also, be sure to ask the truck if they operate in rain, snow, sleet, or hail, because they may need to cancel if the weather is not ideal. If that is the case, there may be a nonrefundable fee associated with that. Just ask.

What Time Of Year Do You Need Your Truck?

You may be booking a truck for your fourth of July wedding party. Super! However, note that the time of year can play a big role on pricing. It may be more expensive in summer months opposed to winter months (if the truck even operates in the winter). It will also depend on the truck and what their schedule is like. Cost for renting a food truck may be lesser in the winter months over summer months as the demand is not as high. After reading this, I hope you have a better idea on what is all involved in renting a food truck for your event. All the information you need to make a seamless booking of a food truck is provided above. You know what to expect for cuisine, menu options, headcount, time-frame, and lastly weather. It may seem like a lot to digest (once again no pun intended), but really it is just ensuring you have all the knowledge to throw the best party and have the best food truck there to help you. We all have to eat, why not make it fun and delicious too? Don't you just love food trucks? Check out our events page for a list of events happening around your area and feel free to contact us if there is an event that you would like added to our calendar! Read the full article

#FoodTruck #FoodTruckCost #RentFoodTruck #SavannahGA

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years ago

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The Reinvention of Tony Stark

AN: I scrolIed through about a 10,000 messages to find this (since this was originally just a stupid idea I decided to scream at @dazzlingtony because I was bored one afternoon), and then it took me literal MONTHS to clean up because I’m extra like that. I’m sorry in advance.

A little background before you read: this is set in a post-Endgame universe where Tony survives. It’s written as if it’s an interview article for a blog/magazine. I kinda wrote it in a style that I see used a lot in Rolling Stone and Vogue. I have no idea if it has any kind of formal name, but I love how this kind of article reads more like a story and internal monologue than a plain interview. It also happens to lend itself really well to what I wanted to convey. It really enjoy character studies through an outsider’s POV, and I also enjoy playing with different genres. I hope you enjoy my little experiment too!

Some people have done some wonderful art about this concept as well, all of which have really inspired me to get my ass back to writing this! Here are some links if you're interested in some jaw-dropped talent: @ceruleanmindpalace's art of Tony looking like a regal king as Time’s Person of the Year. @argieart‘s portrait of Tony smiling on the cover of Time that literally makes me want to cry.

(Note: this one is VERY long. If you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it here.)

“There are a lot of things you worry about when meeting Iron Man, and there are even more things you worry about when meeting Tony Stark.”

From playboy to the pinnacle of heroism: Tony Stark's life has been anything but quiet. In his first face-to-face interview since wielding the Infinity Stones, Iron Man lets the public in on a glimpse of his life as a retired superhero and stay-at-home dad.

There are a lot of things you worry about when meeting Iron Man, and there are even more things you worry about when meeting Tony Stark.

I worried about my clothes, my greeting, how he would perceive me. Despite my friends’ and coworkers’ near constant reassurances, I felt justified in my anxiety. Not only was this one of the richest men in the world, but he’d held the fate of the universe in the palm of his hand. What could he possibly think of me?

The morning of our interview, he texted me (yes, Tony Stark actually texted me, himself, on his own), and asked me to meet him at a park near his house. He said we could talk there, before meeting his family, because that was, of course, the whole point of the interview. I was going to be the first and, possibly, the only reporter allowed within ten feet of Stark’s personal life since the Decimation was reversed.

He was five minutes early. He drove an Audi prototype that I knew wasn’t on the market yet, and my nerves were instantly reignited, if I could claim that they had ever even remotely began to settle.

I had a lot of expectations for that first meeting. I’d built this man up in my head, and I wasn’t the only one. There were murals of him littering the streets of New York, statue after statue being erected in his honor across continents. The admiration of Tony Stark transcended differences in ways few things could. Political, racial, gender, religious, or any other number of societal divisions: Tony Stark built bridges between them all.

What could a man like that possibly be like? He had been ready to sacrifice himself for me, for us, for everyone. There must be something that set him apart, something in his demeanor that was just as awe-inspiring as the looming monuments built in his name.

Except the moment that he stepped out of the car wasn’t grand. I’d expected to be immediately overcome with a sense of his superiority, but he was shockingly unassuming. That isn’t to say that he didn’t carry with him a sense of easy confidence, which he did, but it was the kind of self-assurance that built my own up instantly.

He wasn’t dressed like I’d expected, either. I’d been looking for Armani suits or, at the very least, a set of street clothes that looked like they cost more than my entire wardrobe, but instead, he was wearing a worn leather jacket and dark wash jeans.

He shook my hand, and I ended up staring at his t-shirt for just a few seconds longer than I should’ve. It was light blue, which was, for some reason, not a color I’d expected the savoir of the universe to wear, with a cartoon Earth on the center, the words the rotation of the Earth really makes my day circling it.

I let out a little laugh before I could even consider the repercussions, and he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. In that instant, he didn’t look like a man who had built an empire on military funding and war profiteering. He didn’t look like the richest man on the planet. He didn’t even look like a superhero: the man who had cradled destiny in his palm and forced the scales back into balance.

Instead, he reminded me, strangely, and a little embarrassingly, of my grandfather.

“It was a gift,” he said, shrugging, gesturing almost lazily around the shirt’s graphic. “from one of my kids. A, uh, I’m glad you didn’t die saving the entire universe kind of thing. You know how it is.”

I definitely didn’t, but I nodded anyway.

He asked me if I’d like to take a walk around some of the hiking trails, and I quickly agreed. As we set out, he offered me his arm, and I took it. There were a few bizarre seconds when I forgot to interview him, too overwhelmed by the fact that this was probably going to be one of the most surreal experiences of my entire life.

Eventually, he was the one who reminded me.

“I suppose you have questions.”

I jolted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Right. I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand around in the air, dismissing the apology right away. “Don’t sweat it. I’m used to it.”

I imagined that he must be. He’d been striking people dumb since childhood. On paper, it looked like Tony Stark had always been destined for greatness. Born into riches, raised in the cradle of a patriot’s legacy: there was nothing out of reach for Howard Stark’s heir. He’d graduated MIT at just 17 years old, long before most children had gotten their high school diplomas, and been thrust straight into the life of a celebrity. Even after his parents’ deaths, Stark Industries only grew under his leadership.

And then, of course, came Iron Man.

The kidnapping, Afghanistan. The press conference that ushered the world into the age of superheroes. Tony Stark was at the forefront of it all, pioneering in every field he dared touch. Of all the Avengers, he was the one we knew. The one we recognized. Despite the suit of armor, every single one of us knew that underneath the exoskeleton, Tony Stark was painfully human.

Just like us.

And yet somehow, it still managed to be a surprise that, at the climax of it all, he was the one to offer the final sacrifice.

Except… it hadn’t been a sacrifice.

Or, at least, it hadn’t been as large a one as he must’ve imagined it would be, when he wielded the universe on his fist.

And, for the second time in our very brief acquaintance, I found myself torn back to reality by Tony Stark’s gentle voice.

It wasn’t until the moment he spoke that I realized that I had been staring at the red and gold prosthetic that sat in place of the man’s right arm. Stark held it up with a wry smile, letting the sleeve of his jacket slip down to give me a better view.

“Yes, well,” he regarded the metal with a hint of amusement, “suppose we ought to get that out of the way, too. Yes, the rumors are true: it’s very much gone. A shame, really. I had a fun little scar on my thumb. It looked a bit like an upside-down squirrel.”

I laughed despite myself, then sobered. “I… I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…”

He shrugged, as if the loss of his arm was a minor inconvenience instead of a life-altering change. “Small price to pay. The prosthetic is a lot more durable than the real thing, anyway. Built it out of the same stuff as the suit, stuck with the color scheme, too.” He grinned. “Branding, y’know?”

“Now you’ll always be Iron Man,” I said, not thinking.

I’d been mortified the moment the words had left my mouth, but Stark had just nodded, as if it was the most obvious comment in the world.

“Funny,” he murmured, “that’s almost exactly what Peter said.”

A part of me knew that I should be prying for more stories from that final battle, gathering the blood-stained details that would get readers’ hearts pumping, but I was suddenly far more interested in Tony Stark, the human, rather than Iron Man, the hero.

So instead, I asked him how retired life was suiting him, and he seemed pleased by the question. He gestured grandly around the path we were taking, at the lake and the trees and the sloping landscape: the violent reverse of the concrete jungles we had both been raised within.

“As you can see, I certainly can’t complain about the views.”

“Are you bored?”

He chuckled to himself, as if I’d just hit on an inside joke without meaning to. “Bored? Never. Even if I wanted to be, I can’t imagine how I’d find the time.”

“Some people call you Pepper Pott’s trophy husband,” I joked, and I was surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. “I’ve always found that amusing.”

This time, he laughed full-out, open and bright. “Oh, it’s very accurate. These days, I leave nearly all the business to her. I’m just a stay-at-home dad.”

“And that works for you?” At his questioning look, I scrambled to clarify. “It’s just… I can’t imagine going from the life you’ve had to the life you have now. It’d give me whiplash.”

“It is hard, every once in a while,” he admitted. “But, mostly, I enjoy the peace. Or, the peace that the kids let me have.”

That was the money topic, perhaps even more so than Thanos’ defeat, and it was something he’d brought up himself at least twice now: his children. When I had been preparing for the interview, I hadn’t known how to approach it, but it felt surprisingly natural in the moment.

“How is your family? I assume by kids, you mean Morgan, and, well…”

He paused at a picnic table, and gestured for me to sit. I did, and he settled down across from me, finishing my sentence.

“And Peter.”

“Right. And Peter.”

Peter Parker. The child that Tony Stark created a memorial fund for in the wake of the Decimation, and the child that, on the few occasions when he’d ventured into the city since using the Stones, he always seemed to have trotting along at his heels.

Before Thanos’ defeat and Stark’s resulting dance with death, all questions about Peter had been answered with the same harsh response: that the kid was his intern, and nothing more. Afterwards, however, there had been a sudden switch. In the few recent press releases that had mentioned Tony Stark and his family, Peter had been unanimously included.

I decided to inquire specifically about the health of his children at this point, careful to use the plural to watch for his reaction, and everything about Stark seemed to soften. A layer that I hadn’t even realized he’d had raised suddenly dropped away, revealing an adoration that was entirely uncensored. It was as if I’d just hit on his favorite topic in the world.

It was nothing like I’d imagined from him, but it also felt as if this was his most natural form. The superhero, the weapons dealer, the playboy: these were all just facades.

I wondered if I might be one of the first outsiders to truly catch a glimpse of who Tony Stark actually was.

“They’re both brilliant,” he breathed. “You’ll meet them later, when we head back to the cabin. Peter’s, uh, Peter’s 16, which I’m sure you already know. He’ll go back to high school in the fall, as a junior. We’re waiting for the College Board to get their shit back together so he can take the SAT. Morgan just turned 5. She’s in preschool, kicking ass. She’s already reading way above her level, because she’s just that smart, and we’re in a phase where I have to pretend to like something from her Easy-Bake oven nearly every day. They’re both a lot nicer than me.”

I knew that my next question was verging into dangerous territory, but I asked it anyway.

“Peter was one of the Vanished, wasn’t he?”

He regarded me with a sharp gaze, and I suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope. This was the look of a man who had run a multi-million dollar business for the entirety of his adult life. It was calculating, cold. The switch happened so suddenly that it made my head spin, and I felt the loss of his warmth keenly.

“That’s not a secret.”

I stuttered out an apology, but he pushed it aside. Instead, he shot a question back, which wasn’t uncommon but certainly wasn’t usual with these kinds of interviews.

“Were you?”

I nodded my affirmation, and he seemed completely unsurprised.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Did you look me up, before today?”

“No, I can see it in your eyes.”

I asked him what he meant by that.

“The people who didn’t Vanish are colder,” was all he said in return, but it was enough to send chills down my spine.

“You don’t seem colder.”

“You don’t know me.”

I dropped it. I just wanted to stick to the script, for a while. Tony Stark was proving to be even more complex than I’d imagined, and that was saying something. He seemed to bounce from guiding warmth to flinty steel in the slip of sentences, and the changes were as predictable as the summer thunder storms that used to tear through my grandparent’s Georgia lake house. One second the skies were sunny, humid heat beating down on your sunburnt shoulders, and the next the trees were quivering under the weight of wind-howls and lashing rain.

“Can I ask about the battle?”

A tiny smile pulled at his face. For such a sensitive topic, he seemed to relax. “Which one?”

Which one? It baffled me, for a moment, that the man sitting with me at a splinter-heavy picnic table, wearing a science pun t-shirt that looked like it had been ordered off of Amazon Prime, had been in enough life-or-death conflicts that he had to make me clarify which one.

“The… The final one.”

“You want to know about the gauntlet.”

And, yes, that was exactly what I wanted to know. It was exactly what my editor wanted me to know, too, what we knew our readers would gobble up. The Infinity Stones were fascinating, in the way the human species tended to covet and idolize the things that filled us up with horror.

“I do. Why did you put it on?”

“I knew that I had to,” he said, like that one decision hadn’t been the most monumental of our generation.

“Did you know you were going to survive?”

There was a profound sorrow in his eyes that told me my answer before he even opened his mouth.

“I thought I was a goner, actually. Thought I still was afterwards, too, although I barely remember it. My memories really start back in the hospital, about a week later.”

“Were you scared?”

It was such a childish question, but it seemed appropriate. He must’ve been, of course, but my mind couldn’t quite grasp the concept of someone like him experiencing the same reality that I did. I felt fear, but did he? He seemed so much more than human, now, so much more than me.

He smiled. “Terrified.” He shifted, fiddling absentmindedly with his watch. “The thing is, everyone thinks that I did it for the greater good. And… maybe I did, to some degree. But when I snapped, I was only thinking about my family. You can judge me for that however you want.”

“I don’t think that’s wrong. I think that’s… I think that’s just human.”

He watched me quietly for a few breaths, studying. “You know,” he finally said, “you really do remind me of Peter.”

It wasn’t long after this that I finally got to meet the teenager in question. Stark brought me back to his car and, as soon as I was settled in the passenger’s seat, handed me a security badge.

“Here, put that on. Don’t take it off.”

I did as I was told. “Does everyone who comes to visit you have to have one of these?”

He pulled out onto the road with a tiny smirk on his face, eyes obscured by a pair of sunglasses he’d slipped on once we’d gotten into the car. “Most of the people who visit me are already in my AI’s systems. But, yes.”

“Are you worried about your safety?”

He shrugged. “Not necessarily my safety. Despite retiring, my AI can operate the suits, and so could I, given enough reason, although I’m sure that this,” he held up his prosthetic again, “might make things a little more difficult.”

“So why all the security?”

“Reporters,” he said, glancing over at me, and I suddenly felt a strange sense of shame. “I want Morgan to grow up as normal as possible, and I don’t want Peter’s life ruined anymore than it already is. The least I can do for them is make sure that no paparazzi can get within range to take photos of them at the house. That’s a safe space, for all of us.”

And yet he was bringing me there: directly into their safe space. I couldn’t help but wonder why, so I asked, hoping that I wasn’t about to drop yet another dark veil over the atmosphere.

Thankfully, Stark took the question with ease, as if he’d been expecting it, eventually. “People are fascinated with forbidden things. If I make my house and my family entirely off-limits, the public’s interest only grows. But if I let a few people in, people we’ve carefully chosen, then it starts to lose its appeal.”

“That’s clever.”

“I’ve been playing this game for my whole life. I know how to gain the upper hand.”

I paused. “Do you want me to print that?”

He hit the brakes at a stop sign, and turned to look at me over the rim of his sunglasses. Maybe I was imagining it, but I swore that I saw a flicker of respect in his gaze. “You can print anything I say. I’m not afraid of public opinion. It’ll swing whichever way it wants, and it really doesn’t matter what I do about it.”

“It’s pretty in your favor right now.”

“The key words of that statement are right and now.”

“So you don’t think it’ll stay that way?”

“I know it won’t.”

I didn’t know if I agreed with him, but I stayed quiet. I imagined, though, that it would take a truly ungrateful world to tear down the man that had saved it. I wanted to think better of humanity than that, even if Tony Stark himself seemed to struggle with the optimism.

We drove through three security checkpoints before pulling into the cabin’s driveway. It was smaller than I’d expected, but that still made it larger than an average house. In fact, its size made Stark’s designation of it as a cabin seem almost comical. Dark brown siding melted into stone accents. A chimney rose up through the trees that clustered around the front porch’s carefully-maintained railing. In the distance, I could see the sunlight playing on the lake. There was a boat in the dock, bobbing peacefully in the morning waves.

It didn’t look like a museum, or the palace of a king. It looked like a home.

Morgan Stark herself was waiting on the porch. She looked smaller in person, but more lively as well. In the few paparazzi photos I’d seen of her, she’d always seemed frightened and unsure. Now, though, she came barreling down the porch steps like a rocket, overexcited shouts of Daddy! filling the air.

Stark scooped her up as soon as she got to us, face melting into a smile. He looked calm, again, and perfectly in his element. It hit me rather suddenly that the savoir of the universe was, at the end of the day, just a father who loved his children enough to lay his life down for their futures.

I liked Tony Stark better as a man than as a god, I decided. And from the look on his daughter’s face, she agreed with me.

I was introduced to Morgan right there in the driveway, and it seemed to take her all of a minute to decide that I was a perfectly acceptable addition to the scenery. I’d been expecting more resistance, more of Stark’s wariness, but in the end all I got was a childlike acceptance.

I met Pepper Stark next. Her new last name still tripped me up, even four years after her wedding. No matter how much I tried to condition myself, I could still remember her as Pepper Potts: a lingering presence over New York, formidable CEO and, by all accounts, the only person on Earth who could control the great Tony Stark.

She was sitting in the living room, which happened to be the first space I saw when Stark ushered me through the front door and into the cabin’s cozy warmth. There was a fireplace against the wall, leather couches and armchairs tucked up against it’s glow. A simple staircase led upstairs, but we walked past that, further into the house.

Mrs. Potts was kind in a controlled, well-groomed sort of way. Her demeanor wasn’t fake, necessarily, but I recognized the carefully prepped exterior of a woman who had learned to fight battles in a man’s arena. Besides that, I could also see that she wasn’t certain of me. There was something in her eyes that told me that while she didn’t dislike me, she didn’t necessarily want me in her house, either.

I could understand the trepidation. She and her husband had fled the public eye five years ago, when the Decimation had turned all gazes to the Avengers for answers, for someone to blame. Then, six months ago, her husband had very nearly become a sacrificial lamb.

She had very nearly been forced to raise their child all alone. Staring that in the face must change a person. It had to.

After the introductions had faded into idle conversation, Morgan declared that she was going to go “get Petey,” and raced off up the stairs. A minute or two later, she returned, dragging a teenage boy along by his hand.

Peter Parker was, for lack of a better word, shy. When he met my eyes, usually by accident, he immediately darted them back down to the carpet. He was a little awkward, a little nerdy. His hair was curly, and way too long. A few strands stuck out from the rest, and he stuttered over himself when he spoke. In many ways, he didn’t seem to have any of the suave, easy-going charisma that Stark did.

But Stark loved him. That much was clear from the moment he stepped into the room. Tony Stark looked at his children as if it was a new experience every single time, and it only got more and more breathtaking as the years wore on.

Once we’d finally made it through all the necessary greetings, Morgan tugged on my sleeve and asked if I could give her an interview. I looked to Stark for permission. He went to sit on a couch a few feet away, guiding Peter along with him by pressing a hand against the small of his back, and made a lazy gesture for me to go ahead. He propped his feet up on a crayon-stained ottoman as he watched me, calculating.

I had never interviewed a child before, although I knew at least one of my colleagues who had. Still, she seemed like a smart kid, eyes blinking up at me with barely-contained excitement, so I proceeded just like I usually would.

“How old are you, Morgan?”

“Five!”

“Do you like school?”

“Yeah!”

“What’s your favorite thing to do, there?”

“I like art.”

That was surprising. The daughter of Tony Stark, an artist. It wasn’t what I’d expected at first, but the more I considered it, the more it made sense. What were the Iron Man suits, if not a work of art?

“Do you do a lot of art at home, too?”

“I do! I like to draw portraits of Mommy and Daddy and Peter.” Her face lit up, and she bounced to her feet. “I can draw you one now, if you want!”

“I’d love that.”

As she raced off towards her bedroom, presumably to gather up what were sure to be absurdly expensive art supplies for a five-year-old, I marveled at the fact that she seemed so… normal. Perhaps that was another way that my warped concept of Tony Stark had led me astray. I’d expected his children to be, well, more than normal children. Different, somehow, more serious or solemn or conscious of the power they wielded in the world, and yet even Peter seemed detached from it all. In the few moments when I managed to forget that I was sitting on Tony Stark’s couch in Tony Stark’s living room, the family life sprawling out around me had the same domestic taste as my own childhood memories.

Maybe that was a testament to the Starks’ parenting techniques, or maybe it was a testament to the power of hero worship. The human race could, it seemed, build any man into a legend.

The next few hours slipped by in a domino chain of normalcy. Morgan came back downstairs and covered the floor with crayons and pencils and three different sketchbooks. She drew me a portrait of her family. I’d been expecting stick figures from a child her age, but she drew a series of people that were so well-formed that I could point out which person was which without her telling me first.

Stark got up and made sandwiches for lunch, and everyone ate in the living room except for Peter, who disappeared for the meal but came back in just as it was finished. Nobody else seemed to think that his vanishing act was atypical, so I didn’t comment on it.

As the day crept forward, and my awe at the unexpected normalcy faded, I started seeing those kinds of gaps in greater frequency. Yes, this family wasn’t as abnormal as I’d originally anticipated, but they weren’t entirely normal, either. And the more I looked, the more I saw those blips. Even as Stark worked so hard to leave the superhero life behind him, it still bled through the cracks.

Morgan Stark didn’t seem to notice her father’s prosthetic arm, or the ugly scars that marred half of his face, but Peter Parker did. He danced around the man’s injured side, always brushing shoulders with the left but giving the right as wide a berth as possible. Every once in a while, when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, his gaze would linger just a little too long on the back of the prosthetic’s hand: the space where, according to rumors, Stark had born the Infinity Stones.

Pepper Potts gave less obvious signals, but they were still there. When she handed Stark a new mug of coffee, she went out of her way to place it in his flesh hand. Even more than that, she was always half watching her husband, as if a stray wind might tear him away from her.

The paranoia was in Stark, too, although that was far less of a surprise, considering his reputation. He was almost predatory about the way he guarded his children, and Peter in particular seemed to spark something fierce and mother bear-ish in him, which was a phrase I never would have expected to use in relation to one of the most powerful men in the universe.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Morgan or Peter understood that: the concept that their father, the man who fixed the broken wheels on Morgan’s doll carriages or shamelessly bragged about Peter’s intelligence to anyone who would listen, had the whole world, the whole universe, breathless in awe. His endorsement or censor could build or topple political campaigns. His name made people pause mid-step. The very concept of his existence was enough to influence the unfolding of strangers’ lives.

I doubted that Morgan knew, but I had an inkling that Peter might. But even more than that, I had a pretty solid suspicion that even if Peter did know, he just didn’t care.

Peter fascinated me, both as a human and as a reporter. He was sweet and shy, and yet I knew that there must be something else underneath it. The way Stark looked at him was unique, and unlike Morgan, he was old enough to perceive that.

I wanted to talk to him. So, I jumped on it.

“Do you mind if I talk to Peter, before I leave?”

I’d deduced that Stark was fiercely protective of Peter, and the man’s reaction to the question did little to contradict that conclusion. I supposed that it made sense, considering the Decimation. To lose a child and gain them back was a complicated thing, and he wasn’t the only parent struggling through life in the aftermath of that whiplash.

“If Peter wants to talk to you,” he finally said, jaw tight.

As it turned out, Peter did want to talk to me, much to Stark’s barely concealed displeasure. In fact, it seemed like he’d prefer an emergency root canal to letting me go just about anywhere with the teenager, but he didn’t stop us. From the surprised look on Peter’s face, that was probably some kind of progress.

We went onto the front porch, at his request, and sat on the wooden steps rather than the rocking chairs carefully placed to offer views of the lake.

“So,” he said as soon as we were seated, “how do we do this?”

“I ask you questions, and you answer them.”

I didn’t mean for the explanation to sound so sarcastic, but he grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, okay,” he laughed, a hint of nervousness in the sound, “I probably should’ve guess that bit. Well, ask away, then.”

“Do you live here now?”

He shrugged. “Kinda, but kinda not. When school starts I’ll have to spend a lot more time at my aunt’s place, but for now I try to split it fifty-fifty.”

“You’re not Stark’s secret biological kid, right?”

That question earned me a sly glance. He seemed to toy with his answer, mischief growing with every passing second.

“I think I’ll let people keep wondering about that, actually. Mister Stark thinks it’s fun to watch them stew.”

“And Stark said you were nicer than him.”

Peter snorted. Obviously, that piece of information wasn’t a surprise. “Yeah, he does that.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“You’ve met him, right? You know he’s wrong.”

“He’s… a lot nicer than I expected, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. A lot of people say that, if they actually give him a chance.”

I could tell, just from that minuscule exchange, that Peter loved Tony Stark just as much as I’d seen Tony Stark love him, that the teenager saw something in the man beyond what I did. That knowledge wasn’t necessarily surprising, but it was refreshing. In some ways, it made the savoir of the universe that bit more human.

“Stark told me you’re going to be a junior in the fall.”

Peter’s face turned a little red, every bit the embarrassed teenager who just found out that their parent had been bragging about them behind their back. “Oh, no. What else did he say?”

“That you were brilliant.”

“Ew.”

I laughed. “I assume you like school?”

“Uh, I mean, yeah. I like learning.”

“You must be very smart, to have caught Stark’s attention in the first place.”

“I’m alright, yeah.”

I knew that he was being modest. All of the information I had on Peter Parker told me that he was a proper genius, rivaling even Tony Stark’s IQ.

“Do you remember coming back, after the Decimation?”

Peter’s shoulders tensed, and I wondered if I’d just crossed a line. There seemed to be a lot of those, in this house, in this family. An unspoken guidebook of limits and cautions that I hadn’t been made privy to.

“I do,” he finally said.

“I assume that you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, not really. Sorry.”

“That’s fine.” It was, too. Talking about the Decimation didn’t bother me, but it did bother some of my friends. It was just different coping mechanisms, I supposed, and I understood not wanting to go into such a traumatic experience with a stranger. “When did you find out what happened to Tony?”

He seemed to choose his words carefully. I’d been interviewing people for long enough to know when an answer had been rehearsed, and Peter just wasn’t as good at lying as Stark.

“Pretty soon after.”

“And the first time you saw him was in the hospital?”

“Yes.”

Another lie, which was interesting. In any other interview, I probably would’ve tried to pry for the truth, but I had a weird feeling that Stark would know the second I so much as mildly upset Peter, and it wouldn’t end well for me if he did.

“It must’ve been hard, when you heard about what he did.”

Peter watched me carefully for a few seconds, and my previous evaluation of him gave way to something new. He was shy, yes, but he was smart. Even smarter than Stark, maybe, or maybe he just wasn’t as good at controlling it yet. Still, I could see the raw, borderline brutal intelligence in his eyes. He was running every inch of me through his brain like I was an equation to unwind.

“It wasn’t my favorite day of my life, no.”

“Is that why you spend so much time here, now?’

A pause. He was still sizing me up. I could tell.

“Sort of.”

“I never thought of Tony Stark as a father, you know,” I said easily, testing his reaction. “Even after we heard about Morgan being born, it was hard to imagine.”

“That’s because everyone thinks that they know him, but they don’t.”

I was caught off guard by how quickly he said it and, from the look on Peter’s face, so was he.

I asked him if there was one thing that he wished people did know about Tony Stark.

“He’s complicated, but that doesn’t make him bad,” is all Peter said.

Stark was lurking by the door when we come back in, and Peter didn’t even try to hide his eye roll. He made a joke about having survived the interview without spontaneously combusting, which didn’t seem to land all that well with Stark. For a second, it looked like he was about to scold the teenager, but then his eyes darted over to me and he silently glared instead.

My last hour at the Starks’ cabin was spent getting a tour of the house and surrounding acreage. The kids stayed back in the living room with Mrs. Potts, so I found myself alone with Tony Stark once again.

I’d seen photographs and videos from inside the Stark Tower penthouse, and the décor in his cabin was as far from that style as I could imagine. Where the Tower was sleek and steeped in modern, minimalist designs, the cabin was more rustic. It had a farmhouse vibe, and the furniture was worn and used. It was, without a doubt, a lived-in space.

I only saw a single room upstairs: Stark’s office. Otherwise, I was told that the floor held his and his children’s bedrooms.

“Peter would disown me if I let anyone into his room, and, besides,” Stark said, leading me back down the stairs and away from the hallway of locked doors, “some spaces ought to stay private.”

We spent the rest of the house tour chatting about superficial topics, like the Yankees’ most recent loss and how awful it is to drive in New York at rush hour. Once we stepped outside, however, the conversation got a little more interesting. One of our first stops was a half-downed tree, which Stark pointed to while looking unexpectedly somber.

“The roots gave out during a few days of pretty bad storms about two weeks ago,” he said. “It’s a shame, I guess. Morgan and Peter used to climb all over it. Gave me a good few heart attacks while they were at it, but at least they were having fun.”

He took me down to the dock, where he showed me the boat they kept tethered there. I asked him if he did any fishing, and he laughed.

“Not a chance. I’m rotten at it, Peter’s too nice to kill anything, and Morgan just doesn’t care.”

“And Mrs. Potts?”

His smirk was fond and knowing. “If she ever slows down long enough to even consider fishing, I’ll let you know.”

The cabin’s ground were nice. They weren’t immaculately well-kept, but they weren’t entirely wild, either. It felt very natural, and when I asked Stark who did the landscaping, he told me that he took care of most of it himself.

“Don’t look too carefully at some of the details,” he warned. “I’m an amateur at best, and it doesn’t help that I’ve usually got at least one kid quote-unquote helping while I work.”

“It seems to me like you’re good at just about everything you do.”

“That’s because I rarely do things that I’m not good at.”

I couldn’t help but ask if he was at all grateful for Thanos as we walked back to his car. I knew that it sounded a little perverse, a little brutal, especially considering the prosthetic arm that was a constant reminder of the physical losses he endured, but it was a curiosity that I couldn’t scratch. At the end of the day, it seemed like Stark had come out of that tragedy far more solid than he’d gone in. He had a family, a wife, a beautiful cabin on the lake. He was living in a paradise.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say I’m grateful for something that resulted in five years of grief for a universe, but I am grateful for the way it ended up. There are worse things to lose than an arm.”

He drove me back to the park, where we’d met so many hours before. My Chevy was the only vehicle left in the lot, that late in the evening. He got out once we parked, came around to open my door, and walked me the few steps it took to get to my car.

“Any last words?” Stark asked, and while he didn’t seem to get the irony of that question, I certainly did.

This was a man who once had chosen his final words. It felt ridiculous to compare that moment to this one: a dusk-stained parking lot, my 2008 Chevy Cobalt, and the biggest problem in my future being late-night New York traffic.

“Why did you choose me?” I asked, hand paused on my door’s handle. “You’ve denied every other reporter’s request for an interview, so what made you pick me?”

He smirked. The streetlight glinted off his metal arm.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Peter did.”

He patted the roof of my car, then stepped away.

“Drive safe.”

#hi y'all I'm back on my bullshit #been writing this for MONTHS #help #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #morgan stark #tony & peter #tony & morgan #losingmymindtonight writes

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deadagainmaevepetre · 5 years ago

Text

— yet (moment by painful moment, breath by painful breath) one got through things.

SUMMARY: on behalf of titania, maeve begins pushing il sangue di faerie to the wealthy, young elite of verona. she kills two boys in the process. in addition, she secures test subjects for faerie’s ring, a new capulet drug in development.

dates: april 14 — 23 trigger warnings: drugs, murder, rape mention featuring: @la-bella-falco / @dukemassetti / @oliviorivera / @theodoramoreaus

APRIL 14.

For the most part, Maeve doesn’t love being a Capulet. But there are, admittedly, some perks — namely, access to some of the most famous teenagers of Verona. They have no idea that their opulent house party is her target, and that she is gunning for their wallets as surely as she is aiming for their souls. With her makeup and outfit masterfully orchestrated by Bunny, Maeve slips in with a group of influencers as if she’s one of them.

She takes a selfie in front of the elaborate entrance to enhance the illusion. Instead of uploading it to Instagram, Maeve sends it to Orion: dad, i’m an influencer! she texts. Her lips tick as she walks toward the crowd. It makes her feel like Orion is there with her; she can almost hear him insisting that it will all be okay.

Maeve nearly stumbles when someone steps in front of her. “Hey, I’m Luca.” He nods down at her phone, brows raised inquisitively. “Texting your boyfriend?”

Is this the part where she flirts with him? She summons her inner Lucrezia, hoping that she will make her superior proud with the subtle shift in her body language. Imagining her jaws cracking as it opens for a taste of him, Maeve leans in. “I’m just texting my friend, she’s supposed to meet me here.”

Her phone dings, and Maeve pulls it out and scans a text from Orion. She smothers the smile that threatens to paint her mouth and instead, for Luca’s pleasure, she pouts. “She’s not coming. Damn.”

“Let me introduce you to some people, then.” He begins to move towards her, and Maeve angles her phone away from Luca before he can see the screen. As his hand rests on the small of her back, she slides the phone back into her pocket and follows his lead. She meets his friends, the small circle of Verona’s youthful elite. Laughing at their jokes, rolling her eyes as she speaks of her made-up, flakey friend, Maeve pretends to be one of them.

And isn’t she close enough to be one of them, truly? She is Maeve Petre, the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Verona: privileged and pampered, beautiful as if she is one of Aphrodite’s chosen. But she lacks their ignorance, that naivety that sparkles like gold under the light and becomes a bullseye in the dark.

“This party is so boring,” Camilla whines, leaning against Mia’s arm. “Let’s leave.”

Luca laughs. “This is your party, Camilla.”

“Shouldn’t that tell you how bad it is?” she snaps. Mia tenderly pats her girlfriend’s arm until Camilla curls back into her, piercing glare melting to a merely unhappy frown.

It’s her opening, and Maeve doesn’t hesitate to seize it. Like she’s presenting a secret, she meets Camilla’s eyes and confesses, “I might have something to make things more fun.”

“Yeah?” Luca puts an arm around her shoulders, and Maeve fights the urge to shrug it off. She is working, though he doesn’t know it. It makes her feel unprofessional, or like this whole mission is a joke. But it’s not a joke; it’s her chance to prove herself, and Maeve isn’t going to waste it.

Her teeth are clenched behind a close-lipped smile that Maeve hopes passes off for flirty. “Yeah.” When she’s sure that they’re all watching her, she casually brushes her finger below her nose, flicking her finger up at the end for emphasis. It takes only one try for Camilla and Mia to get the hint, and they look impressed; it makes her heart pitter-patter with pride.

Luca is a little denser. “What is it?” He looks from Camilla, to Mia, to Maeve.

Mia rolls her eyes. “Come on, principessa delle fate. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

This time, she doesn’t hide her pure elation. Mia doesn’t know how fitting of a nickname that is.

—————

APRIL 20.

In almost a week, Maeve has expanded her circle of three clients to twelve. Word about il sangue di Faerie has spread quickly among Verona’s teen gods, gilded and gifted and glorious. Her reputation is beginning to precede her; Mia’s nickname has caught on, and they call her principessa delle fate. With a wild grin, Maeve accepts the crown they offer her and wears it with glee. She’s gotten used to their gratitude and how they lick the palm of her hand in hopes that they’ll find a delicate, powdery residue that will fill their minds with madness.

They are only the troubled and poisonous youth, with tongues made of polished gold, fingers and necklines laced with diamonds. They sit on their man-made thrones and consider Maeve beneath them. Just a deliverer of pleasure, a messenger of fantasy.

They never look past her bright eyes and splattered freckles for the gleam of something wicked and silver.

Each day, Camilla sends another friend her way. Then they send their friends, and their friends — and the circle expands. It’s as if she’s breathed life into clay, and they cannot stop coming back to her. Maeve grants them small doses at a time, until she says, with a petulant frown as if it hurts her to say it more than to hear it, that she’ll have to increase the price for how quickly they want it.

It almost makes her giggle, how quickly they agree.

She texts Olivio frequently, asking for his advice on how to create demand and desire without removing the illusion of access. Every word from his mouth is taken to heart, and Maeve executes it as if it’s law. Maeve promises to bake him cookies and a cake as a thank you; already that number is piling high, as Olivio helps her navigate tricky situations and complex requests.

She doesn’t think to ask Olivio for his advice when Luca asks to meet with her in private — she regrets it, later on.

"We used to go to this other guy, you know?” Luca says, a joint casually hanging from his lips. He shakes off the ashes, not caring if it marks the carpet. Maeve internally screams.

He offers her a hit, and Maeve shakes her head politely. Not at work, and not even with her friends, which Luca is certainly not. He seems to think her success is his own, as if he discovered her. How many times has Maeve bitten her tongue until she drew blood to stop lashing out at him? You only discovered me because I let you. You found me because I wanted to be found.

Instead, Maeve feigns interest. “What do you mean?” She shifts her position on his couch to face him, one arm propped up, chin on her palm and knees tucked beneath her.

“He used to deal us this other thing every once in awhile. Nothing fancy, just standard shit. I told him about you though, and he’s interested.” Luca inhales, deep into his lungs, as Maeve steels herself for the worst.

Luca exhales. “He’s interested in helping out. You know, help deal your shit and give you a cut of the profit.” He looks at her blankly, as if he doesn’t care for her answer at all. “You in?”

It can’t hurt to meet him, Maeve thinks. It might even show some initiative. She did well enough to get the general public interested in il sangue di Faerie. A quiet thrill hums through her veins, the thrill of exceeding expectations a different kind of drug entirely.

She smiles sweetly at Luca, liking him for the first time since she’s met him. “Sure. Sounds interesting.”

“Meet us tonight, then. I’ll text you some directions.” Luca grins, stupidly high.

Maeve almost laughs at how dumb he looks and is. “Okay. See you tonight.”

———

APRIL 20, BUT NIGHT.

She doesn’t expect the night to end like this.

One bloodied body at her feet, the life slowly seeping out of him as the crisp night air fills her lungs.

Another bruised but breathing one facing her, crouched and tense with a mere pocketknife extended towards her.

Maeve might have smiled at how cute it was that he thought a pocket knife was good enough, if not for the fact that she’s drenched in Luca’s blood. As awful as he is — was — he was still just a boy. He made her laugh. He reached out to her when she was a new face, and let her into his inner circle without a second thought.

“He didn’t have to die,” Maeve warns the other boy, with the gentleness and concern of a mother telling her child not to eat a scorpion.

“You’re the one who killed him, baldracca.” His voice shakes, and Maeve feels a pang of pity for him.

She’s sorry. He may not believe her, but regret and grief both overwhelm her now. She’s just become better at withstanding it, is all. She knows how to carry it now: the way the shadow plays with the light, how pain intermingles with pleasure, how love and loss are long friends who always stop to chat and hold hands. She knows how to suffer it quietly.

“You came to attack me. To steal from me. And,” now it’s her turn to tremble as she considers the worst, “who knows what else.”

“You were charging way too much—”

“Luca was a rich little boy, mommy’s favorite,” Maeve interrupts harshly. “This has nothing to do with money, and everything to do with power. You wanted to teach the little girl a lesson. You wanted to see if you could make her cry and scream.” Her grip on Little O turns white. “You wanted to make her weak.”

He doesn’t say a word — for a moment.

When he finally speaks, he seals his death.

“You’re not a drug dealer,” he says slowly, as if coming to the realization himself. “You’re a Cap—”

Maeve’s knife sinks into his chest before he can finish the word. She holds it there for a moment, meeting his eyes and hoping he sees the tears in her own.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers one second before she pulls the knife out.

———

APRIL 23.

It’s a testament to how far buried the old Maeve Petre is — how quickly she returns to normalcy.

She attends another party, keeping an ear to the ground as Verona mourns the death of Luca and Angelo (that was his real name, Angelo). They’re not sure who murdered them, or if it was a murder at all.

Maeve doesn’t have to pretend to be too choked up to speak. The others go as far as to comfort her, patting her back and saying awful, horrible things like, “We all know Luca was your favorite, Maeve. We know he loved you.”

Loved me? She swallows back a scoff, and it burns her throat on the way down. He wanted to rape me.

When they ask her for something to ease the pain, she summons everything Olivio taught her to revive her spirit. With the same, affectionate grin that Maeve has become known for, Maeve pulls out a small packet of powder and drops it into their hand. “This one,” she says gently, “is on the house.” It will come out of her own pocket, if it has to.

“Thank you, Maeve.” Mia tucks it into her pocket and is about to walk away when Camilla interrupts.

“Do you have something... different?”

Maeve blinks bewilderedly. “Like... weed?”

“No, no. Like shrooms or acid, you know?” Camilla looks around with a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s not seeing any of them at all. “Just something different.”

She remembers a project Theodora has mentioned, a rumor she’s heard on the wind... “I may have something, but it’s super underground. I’m not even sure if they know how powerful it is yet.”

There it is: a familiar spark in Camilla’s eyes whenever a reckless and novel adventure appears. She’s learned to capitalize on it; she’s learned to use it to propel her own name among Verona’s young and careless. “Can you get us some?”

Maeve hesitates. She knows nothing of Theodora’s project, and she knows nothing about how much she’ll be able to get her hands on. But she also knows Camilla loves to be a part of something exclusive, something urgent, something inaccessible and otherworldly.

She also knows Theodora is the best in Verona at delivering exactly that.

"You know that it’d be kind of risky, right? It hasn’t been tested that much, and I don’t want to be responsible for anything bad happening to you, Camilla...”

Like Luca.

Mia puts a hand on Camilla’s arm as if to stop her, but Camilla shrugs it off. “I’m in.”

Maeve smiles and winks, though her heart hurts and her throat aches with a need to scream her lungs out. “I'll see what I can do.”

#drug tw #murder tw #rape mention tw #self para #forgive this emo ass title i just couldn't think of another one so i picked a quote

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ivisite · 5 years ago

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First thing I need to address is that, wow, cats and cat like creatures are so hard to draw? please excuse my attempt at a Khajiit and a smol version of said race. Also bearded men? I’m used to drawing pretty korean boys

kind of a timeline ( ?? ) but also some family doodles even though Saoirse hasn’t claimed to have one of those in years (but what protagonist has parents these days, amirite-) A Poorly Paced and Terribly Written Origin Story by Me, an actual Potato When wee lass Saoirse was about 11, her father, an “Ex-Foresworn”, took her aside one day and told her they were going on an adventure and not to tell her mother or sister. A few days later, they ended up in the Reach atop some cliff and it is from this pivotal moment that Saoirse’s Daddy Issues™ started. He grabbed her by the arm, threw her down to the ground and yelled nonsense about the Old Gods and Hircine. Plot Twist, he was still a crazed Foresworn and wanted to appease Hircine by offering Saoirse up to be “BleSsEd” with the werewolf business. Before her very eyes, her father warped and twisted into a terrible beast and set his eyes on her.

Not about that, Saoirse tried to run off and pretty well got away from him but did sustain a nasty couple of scratches to the back in the escape. From there, she ran through the hills and cliffs for hours until coming across a Khajiit Caravan camping for the night. Bleeding and probably ugly crying, she scampered off into the camp and begged for help and the oldest member, the Matriarch named “Qu’Ra”, took pity on her and agreed to let her stay with them and their other little orphan, the aptly named “Snaggle”.

Not one for the whole “sweet motherly love” thing, Qu’Ra was more on the tough love side of things. Saoirse got to travel with the caravan but also had to learn to barter and trade so she was at least useful (or would be when she was older.)

Once she got older, probably 14 or so, the Caravan started sending Saoirse into the towns that the Khajiit themselves weren’t allowed into to sell their wares. Naturally gifted with a quick wit and light on her feet, she had no trouble at all selling and sneaking around to avoid concerned Guards.

After leaving Skyrim for a bit, the Caravan finally returned to the frost coated land and put Saoirse to work selling their wares inside cities. The first stop was uneventful, but the second stop in Riften is where all the fun stories Saoirse likes to tell Lucia about red headed men come from. Upon entering the city she came across the market area and heard a familiar type of accent and tracked down the source. “Is that your real accent, or just the one you use to sell your snake oils?” Saoirse said with a coy smile to the red headed vender settled happily in the stall she leaned against.

“It’s 100% real, just like my Draugr tonic.” he replied with an equally suave smile of his own, catching sight of a potential customer nearing the stall. “It’ll keep you alive and kicking for years.” he continued as the curious onlooker walked closer.

He gave the curious man a charming smile and leaned forward a bit to continue his sales pitch, all the while Saoirse watching with an amused expression. “Why would I buy this? Draugrs look horrid from what I’ve heard.” the man asked, brow raised in suspicion.

“Oh aye, but you have heard of them, then? Somethin’ has to keep the beasties skulking around all day, ya ken?” Saoirse retorted, stepping into the stall next to the fellow con-artist. “I took time out of my day, risked my own life to search several draugr infested tombs just to find the secret to their liveliness and bottled it up just for the likes of you.” the red headed man added.

Between the two of them, the poor man seemed to have fallen into the well worded trap, nodding thoughtfully to the red headed man as he spoke and mumbling to himself whenever Saoirse threw in her own septim or two. “Draugrs do skulk around all day, something must keep them up and about, huh? ....I’ll take one.” the man said after a few more moments of banter and coaxing.

After paying a hefty price of 200 septim for what could have literally been sewer water with flowers tossed in for good measure, the man walked off happily clutching his bottle and muttering to himself about it all.

“Good at making coin, aren’t you lass?” The red headed man asked, dusting his clothes off a bit and giving Saoirse what she could only imagine to be his most practiced, handsome smile.

He was a crafty one, for sure, but she couldn’t help but poke at the fire, if only out of her own curiosity. “Practiced that smile for weeks, didn’t you lad?” She cooed playfully back. The gesture was met with a chuckle from the man.

“What say you to sticking around the stall the rest of the day?” he asked, a cheeky smile parading onto his lips. It was the first genuine thing she’d seen off him thus far and it was perhaps more charming than his more practiced one. “Maybe, but I do charge a small helpers fee, of course.” She cooed.

and BOOM a terrible partnership of con-artistry began in which she would get to sell her wares from the caravan at his stall so to avoid paying business taxes and he would get a small cut and help selling his own “wares”. Did she know better? Of course. Did she talk herself into thinking she was smart enough to avoid getting hurt? Of course. Did she get her heart broken into pieces after bonding and romancing this man only to find out a few months into it that he’d been “borrowing” some of her wares, making her come up short when returning to Qu’Ra and profiting off them for himself all the while? You bet your sweet roll she did.

So naturally, as anyone might do, she crept down to his guild quarters, buttered him up and tuckered him out for the evening before running off into the night with 5000 of his personal money and several thousands worth of job related trinkets and jewelries he’d hoarded to give to the clients in question the next day.

And what did she do next, you might ask? Well, naturally she marched around the entirety of Skyrim and hand delivered all the stolen goods back to their owners in spite of him and then fled the country because she low key owed a powerful guild hella money and ain’t no one got time for that.

The next few years of her early twenties would be spent traveling literally anywhere but Skyrim doing odd jobs. Need someone to take out some bandits at your mine? Saoirse was all about it. Some questionable magic guy need help getting into a crypt to get a weird book? Sure, why not. Some rich person need help getting an heirloom that somehow ended up deep in the bowels of a falmer infested, centurion guarded Dwemer ruin? Sure but like double the payment because Centurions are scary.

It was a simple life and she ended up traveling all over the continent before returning to Skyrim in hopes of making it to Windhelm unnoticed by anyone that might be looking for her so she could hop a ride to Solstheim.

Of course that didn’t work out and instead she ended up getting caught up in an imperial raid on a stormcloak post while she was trying to trade herbs and potions for their sick in exchange for arrows and such.

On a moral ambiguity scale of black to white, she’s like a solid light grey for the majority of her life, like she would for sure talk you into giving her your shirt and then talk you into buying it back from her for double you paid for it, but also buys a room for the local orphan kid to sleep in for the night because it’s raining. not the best person but also not the worst, like a solid C+ human (∪ ◡ ∪)

the whole Helgen thing makes her start to rethink her life choices and thus starts the grueling journey of character development (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ and it all starts with her deciding to pick the warrior stone instead of the thief stone while Ralof rambled on about draugrs and stormcloaks in the background

#saoirse : oc #my oc #digital art #doodles #skyrim #tes oc #this turned out more rambly than i meant it to #skyrim oc #female dragonborn #sorry for rambling i'm tired and it's 2am #half of me wants to write out her story and the other half just wants to nap #whoops i like writing too

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treatian · 4 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 141: The Real Prince Charming

Thanks to Clopin's hints, he had a feeling that when King George summoned him, he would be asked to help with the slaughter of a dragon, perhaps a potion to ensure Prince James' safety. He did not expect what he actually saw.

Prince James, laid out on a table, unmoving. He was difficult to see through all the bodies and chainmail, but he could see the King before him staring down at the pretty face he'd been watching since birth upon the altar. Eyes closed. Unnaturally still. Suspiciously deathlike.

He nearly lost his breath when he focused his attention and magic onto the boy in front of him to confirm his suspicion.

No heartbeat.

He was dead.

He almost betrayed his presence in the room by letting out a groan at the realization of…everything. Damn this gift. Damn the fact that it was sometimes an utter mystery to him, unexplained and unknown until one thing happened and everything else seemed to fall into place. He should have panicked at the idea that his golden boy was dead, and he did feel angry at the fact that George had let the one person in the world he'd entrusted to him perish, but he felt neither of those things because the sense of realization was too overwhelming.

He was a fool. All this time, he'd had everything he needed right in front of him to put it together, but he hadn't until this moment right now. That feeling he'd had the morning he'd first dropped him off with George, that James was the wrong Prince but the right one all at the same time. The fact that he was unfit for Snow White but perfectly fit for a Prince which made him neither the False Prince nor Prince Charming. He was the right Prince at the right time. But now he was the wrong Prince. But his brother...he was the right Prince. Humble, born of nothing, raised in poverty, unafraid to speak his mind and do what was right just because it was honorable, willing to fight for the common man, eager to wait if love was the prize. David was the False Prince. Someone who would never fit in with the royals no matter how much he dressed him up. He would be Prince Charming. And James…the right wrong twin…for if James had never come here in the first place, the path would never have been cleared for his brother to be raised the way he was but had the opportunity he had before him now; an opportunity to take his place. How had he missed that?

"Goodbye, my son," King George muttered as a few of those soldiers he'd been standing behind moved forward and carried the body away. He could smell blood, old and stale as if from a wound. Perhaps that was what did the good Prince in.

"Your Majesty, there is no time to grieve," one of the soldiers suggested sidling up beside the King. "If Midas learns he is dead, he will find another warrior to slay his dragon, and we will never see an ounce of his gold."

"Yes, yes. The Kingdom must survive," the King agreed half-heartedly. That was interesting enough. Half-hearted was still half a heart more than he ever would have guessed Old George had.

"So, what are we to do?"

"I have asked for help," he responded after a short pause. "It should be here soon."

Ordinarily, he wouldn't have heeded the summons considering what had been so carelessly done to James. But at the pronouncement, he rose out of his chair at their pretend round table. It was his cue. With careful steps, he could fix this. He could set things the way they were always meant to be.

"Oh, it's here."

Angry as he was, first and foremost, he was the Dark One. He had a reputation to live by, a mask to wear for those who expected it of him. He had experience with George, he knew what he wanted, which was why when the soldiers all turned around to look in the direction of the strange voice, he made sure he was the only one wearing a smile. A knowing smile, but a smile just the same. He was upset, but he was comforted by the knowledge the Seer had given him years ago. This was fixable, he just had to speak to the King, who, to his shock and amazement, did, in fact, have tears in his eyes.

"Leave us," the King instructed the guard at his side.

The guard gave a skeptical sort of look, but nonetheless took steps forward. "Move!" he ordered, and just like that, the rest of the guards filed out of the room, leaving him all alone with the King.

"So, this is how you treat my gifts? You really must be more careful," he chastised.

"He was not a gift," the King argued weakly. "He was my son."

"A son I gave you."

"In a deal we made!" he fought back, all the while he smiled on. It was cute, really it was, whenever royals and other "higher-ups" attempted to assert their dominance over him. It never worked. He would always be the most powerful person in the room, no matter who's Kingdom he was in. "You did me no favors!"

"Yes, yes, I did!" he insisted, turning to face the man. He'd offered a mirror, one to another realm that had been quite helpful in ridding himself of Cora and finding Jefferson, which had been a very profitable relationship, all was true. But what the King didn't understand was that he would have brought James here for nothing if he'd had to. He was essential to his plan or at least that was what he thought. Now, it turned out, all the cards were in his hand again. And he wanted to be sure the King knew it. "Shame you and the queen couldn't conceive a child on your own. My price for that was a pittance. But now that she's gone, well, I assume that conceiving another heir is out of the question – let alone a dragon slayer."

"Then let's do another deal," George shot back. He rubbed his hands together, nervously, trying to form his idea. "Bring him back. I need my son to do this. I'll give you anything."

He had a feeling that he knew what the King would ask for the moment he realized the situation, but he also knew that he couldn't give him what he wanted, not without tracking down the Doctor in a Land Without Color. However, his knowledge of the future told him this was a situation he had to deal with. He'd been watching David compulsively for decades just as he'd been watching James. He knew George and his family, and he didn't exactly expect the King and David would get along half as well as David would with Snow White. But then…wasn't that the secret? He didn't have to make it work with David and George for an eternity, he just had to make it last long enough for him to encounter Snow White. Maybe even less than that, if Clopin's intelligence was true. He just had to get the boy engaged to Abigail. By then, the lie could become a truth. He could do it. But this required careful wording

"Anything?" he challenged. That was one of his favorite words. There was always a lot of potential in "anything."

"What do you want?"

Besides David at the side of Snow White…not much. This was a deal he'd never really planned on making, but he couldn't just let him have David for nothing! His reputation was at stake, and the King might suddenly grow a brain and think that he was up to something. What did he want for David? A vision he hadn't had for a while flashed in his mind.

Six wands lined up on a wooden stand in a place he did not know yet.

Six wands…he had six wands, but one of them was not part of the six, and he only currently owned five of the six after Robin stole one. He could think of one thing the King could give him, one thing the Seer was compelling him to ask for. He'd been watching the King all his life, and as he felt like he was nearing the end of this journey, there was one thing he wanted but had yet to get his hands on since his own had gone missing. The King did have a partnership with a certain Gold Fairy. It was better than nothing, lest the King figure out he was up to something.

"There's a magic wand I desire. It belongs to a certain fairy godmother, who's patron to your family. And I want to know her whereabouts." Wouldn't that be a perfect way to get back at the Blue Fairy for the trouble she'd caused? Take out one of her most decorated Fairies and acquire her wand along the way. Oh, he could barely wait!

He watched as King George thought about it, pressed his teeth together so hard a muscle jumped in his jawline. "Done!" he finally snapped. "Now tell me–how do I bring my son back to slay the dragon?"

With careful wording of his own...

"Bring him back?" he questioned falsely. "Oh, no, that's out of the question. He's dead. Magic can do much, but not that."

"But you just said-"

"Nothing about resurrection!" he corrected, shouting right back at the King. His terms were that he needed a son to slay the dragon, and so he would have a son to slay the dragon…it just wouldn't be Prince James. He hadn't figured that part out yet, it seemed.

"Then, my Kingdom…is lost," the King pronounced so dramatically he rolled his eyes. "I'm alone."

Fools. Did they think that he made deals just for the fun of hearing words? He'd gone through the trouble of stating a price, and he was a busy man. Did the King not wonder why he would put a price on something he couldn't do?

"Oh, dear," he chimed, sounding falsely upset and dancing closer to the King just to make him feel uneasy. He was a man in mourning, but as far as he was concerned, he was a father who had allowed his child to die. He had little pity for him. "Oh, dearie, dearie, dear. Did I not tell you that I could have your son slay the dragon? And am I not a man of my word?"

"I thought you said he was gone forever?" the King yelled in frustration.

"Oh, that he is," he confirmed. "But his brother…"

"His what?!" the King demanded, his interest suddenly roused.

"His twin brother," he asserted, letting another important detail slip. "Did I not mention there was another?" he laughed as a spark of hope danced into King George's face. That was the look of a man who was desperate enough to play his games willingly. It was a look that would sign away the shepherd's fate.

Dear David would become a false prince if there ever was one, he would come to know Snow White in every way a man possibly could know a woman, he was the real Prince Charming.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #King George #Prince Charming #David #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

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GF - Soos and His Girl

For @legendary-defender-of-fandoms. I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~

Soos looked down at his can of Pitt soda kinda gloomy like. He should be really happy right now, and generally he was, but he was also… he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Abuelita was happy in the armchair in front of the TV. She liked the “dusty, dirty” shack that needed a “lady’s touch”, so during the day she kept busy vacuuming everything and tidying up the house, and at night she enjoyed the additional channels Mr. Pines was willing to pay for so he wasn’t stuck with Gravity Falls public-access TV. She was enjoying her afternoon cup of coffee in front of the TV right now, in fact, and Soos should probably go join her, but he was trying to finish an idea for tomorrow’s tours in the gift shop, but his inspiration was gone and the rainy day didn’t help his mood improve.

Soos drained the rest of his can of soda in one gulp and adjusted his tie. He smiled down at his suit-covered body and could feel himself straighten up with pride. Still, he was… lonely. Yeah, that was it. Mr. Pines and Dr. Pines left two days ago, and from what Soos could tell they were both super happy, and Dipper and Mabel were back home in California now. Wendy still hung around some, but school had just started back and classes were kinda busy right now, so it would be a few weeks until things cooled down and even then she wouldn’t be working as much as she did over the summer (which, let’s be honest, it’s not like she worked much to begin with).

While Soos was beyond happy to be running the Mystery Shack, to have his lifelong dream come true, the old cabin was now way too quiet and way too empty. Maybe once tourists came back and the money started to roll in and business kept him busy, he’d be okay. Still, as of today, Soos was just a little sad and lonely, and that was okay.

The gift shop was open, so Soos shouldn’t have been surprised when the door opened with a chime. He looked up and was way more surprised to find a pretty girl with light-brown hair tied back with a scrunchie and a purple rain-jacket standing in his shop. “Hi, Soos!”

“Melody!” Soos gasped and ran to her to hug her. She hugged him back around his neck and he could feel all his sadness just melt away like cheese on a greasy pizza. He let her go to stare at her and make sure she was really here. “What are you doing here?! How are you here?! Someone pinch me, dude, cuz I gotta be dreaming!”

Melody laughed and shook her head. “Nope! I told you I was only in Portland for a few weeks. A few weeks is over.”

“So you’re staying?!” Soos dared to hope.

Melody nodded. “Yup! I’m staying!”

“This is great!” Soos punched the air and gestured for the “employees only” door. “C’mon in, dude. Meet my grandma and have a soda.��

“Sure, I’d love to.” Melody said as she shed her rain-jacket and followed Soos through the house.

“Abuelita, I got someone I’d like you to meet.” Soos called as they went to the living room. “This is Melody.”

“Si, si, you are even more beautiful up close.” The old lady complimented.

“Uh, thanks.” Melody said and shook her hand.

“Sit, niña, and tell me about yourself.”

Soos pulled out a chair for Melody from the card table and sat on the dino-skull end table to listen to Melody talk about herself and what she was doing in Portland.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So… uh, hey.” Soos said as he sat on a park bench next to Melody a few days after she came back to Gravity Falls. “You know I really like Wendy and I’m never gonna fire here, but… but she’s really busy with school and friends and… I thought it’d be a good idea to hire another cashier.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Melody supported, thinking he just needed a little encouragement that he was making a good business decision.

“Yeah, but… but I don’t just want anyone, you know?” Soos was starting to sweat a little more than normal. “Someone I can trust and think is pretty cool. Someone really pretty and smart and caring and… I dunno, you wouldn’t be interested, would you?”

Melody stared at the cute guy with an anime t-shirt in front of him and a ball cap, blushing adorably with his little awkwardly-growing whiskers. “What? You mean, work at the Mystery Shack? With you?”

“‘Course, I thought you wouldn’t want to, I get it if it’d be awkward for you, and I know you like extreme lunch meats, so…”

“Are you kidding, I’d love to work at the Mystery Shack with you!” Melody said and took his hand with excitement, her eyes twinkling beautifully and her cheeks round and rosy with joy. “It’d be so much fun and I love the Shack! I’d get to where those cute t-shirts and help kids find stuff they like and give out good deals…”

“Not too good deals, though.” Soos said with a smile and pointed out, “Remember, we put the fun in no refunds.”

“I know, but what if we raise the prices a bit.” Melody offered. “We could do it steadily and carefully so no one would notice, but eventually the price would be so high that we could put crazy good deals on them and still make a profit, making the customers think they’re getting a steal.”

Soos stared at her like she was an awesome warrior princess. “You are the smartest girl I know.”

Melody just smiled with pride and happily shook Soos’s extended hand to accept the new job.

~~~~~~~~~~

“DIPPER! Hurry up!”

“Coming!” Dipper ran into their room, plopped down on his beanbag, and Mabel clicked on Soos’ icon on the laptop to start the video-call. It only rang once or twice before the pair of twins were faced with their favorite handyman-turned-business-owner and his newest employee. “SOOS!”

“What’s up, hambones?!” Soos called and waved.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Melody asked as she wiggled her fingers.

“Great!” Mabel said. “Guess who made it into the Hall of Fame at the art show?”

“That’s amazing, Mabel!” Soos cheered. “We’re both super proud of you.”

“Totally!” Melody agreed.

“Thanks, guys.”

“So, what’s new with you two?” Dipper asked.

The two exchanged looks and then Soos burst with happy news. “We’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend, dudes!”

“Hey, that’s great!” Dipper congratulated.

“ECK!” Mabel squealed. “All of my dreams are coming true! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Thanks.” Melody giggled. “Soos was so sweet. Had this beautiful picnic set up and asked me to be his girlfriend, honestly I would've said yes a long time ago.”

“Aw, couple goals!” Mabel cooed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan and Ford arrived at the Mystery Shack a week before Dipper and Mabel were supposed to come back for the summer. Right off the bat, Melody happy shook both of their hands as Soos introduced her to the famous Mr. Pines and Dr. Pines. They were surprised to find her, not in an employee’s uniform, but a suit and she borrowed the fez and an eight-ball cane. She kissed Soos’ cheek before hurrying off to run a tour.

“Soos, what’s all that about?” Stan asked, pointing at Melody’s get-up.

“Oh, right. Well, I haven’t found a handyman quite right for the job, so sometimes I gotta make repairs instead of giving tours, so on those days Wendy runs the register and Melody runs the tours as the miraculous Mrs. Mystery! She’s a natural!”

“And over to your left you’ll see our amazing Box of Mystery. If you put your credit cards in, they mysteriously disappear.” Melody said and the gullible tourists put their credit cards in the little mail slot.

Stan patted Soos’ shoulder. “Yup. She’s a keeper.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Melody proved to not only be as sweet as sugar and as sharp as a knife, but also as tough as nails when in a pinch. Of course, anyone who saw her beat up creepy animatronic robots at a pizza joint with a chair knew this, but it became even more apparent when she beat eyebats out of the shack with a broom, carried five huge crates full of merchandise by herself, and could hang Dipper from one arm and Mabel from the other arm.

The kids loved her as much as they loved Soos, and though she had her own apartment, she was always over at the Shack. Jokingly, towards the end of that summer, Stan laughed, “Honestly, you’re here so much, you should just move in.”

Soos turned bright red. He had planned on offering Melody to move in with him when everyone left after summer, but when Melody’s cheeks turned bright red and she giggled nervously, he couldn’t help but stutter, “I-I-If y-y-you w-want to, dude, y-y-you c-can.”

Melody smiled and kissed his cheek to try to ease any worry he might have. “I’d really like that.”

No amount of eye-rolling could hide the smile on Stan’s face, which Ford quickly pointed out and teased his twin for.

~~~~~~~~~~

If it was somehow possible, Stan’s hair became a paler gray over the years, but he wasn’t that old yet! Ford’s hair was a little paler, too, but he still had that lighter stripe. Mabel, now a sixteen-year-old, stood in a beautiful maid-of-honor’s dress. Stan tugged at his suit as he watched Soos and Melody dance, their first dance as a married couple, on the dancefloor just outside the Mystery Shack.

It had been a beautiful summer wedding in the early afternoon. The sun was setting and soon the dangling lanterns and buzzing fireflies would make excellent sources of light. The cake was half-eaten and the party was still going strong, but this one quiet moment was surreal for everyone. Stan just stood there and happily watched his best employee holding someone he loved and swaying to the soft music.

“Aw, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel cooed quietly. “You’re crying.”

Stan blinked and finally noticed that his eyes were a little wet. He scrubbed at his eyes and hissed, “No I’m not.”

“Stanley, you always were a sap for romance.” Ford joined in the picking of his younger brother.

“I said I ain’t crying!” Stan said firmly, but his eyes were soon wet again and all he could do was grumble as he watched the newlyweds dance.

#I hope you like it!#thanks for the request!#gravity falls #soos ramirez #melody #i will forever ship those two #they are too sweet for this world #wish I could come up with more stuff of them #and we ALL know that Stan would cry at their wedding #don't lie

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gangofoutlaws · 6 years ago

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CHAPTER ONE: VAN DER LINDE GANG APPROVED

Summery : Y/N, mid 20ties with a passion for hunting. Born with a famous hunter as a dad it was almost destined for you to become one yourself. It is your paid job to roam nature, hunt and sell animals and hides to shops, butchers and family homes. When selling some to the Van der Linde gang, Dutch asked you to join them and provide the necessary food capacity. You have no steady home so you tag along for the company and the fixed pay. You know your way around with a gun, taught well by your dad ofc, but prefer not to take it out other than necessary for like example a dangerous animal or some bad guys on the road.

Female reader in the Red Dead Redemption (2) universe. A dramatic life story about a girl with a history and a future not certain. warnings: none ( in this chapter ) Main characters: Y/N Sean MacGuire Arthur Morgan Isaac Badillo

Another morning has come in Eris Field where you had your tent set up for the night. Just near the creek so you could have a cold but refreshing bath in the morning. You make yourself ready for a morning of hunting in the fields and put on your riding pants. Since the day you can remember you are wearing pants instead of dresses. Dad always explained you can move way quicker and can’t be caught fast while running around in all that fabric. Your dad was one of the best hunters, famous you can say. Especially, as he hunted overseas and brought back amazing unseen animals that only existed in photographs. When he got invited to be a special guest at some fancy party, you wore a dress. An exception, to look like a lady.

In the fields, you shoot some turkeys and a deer and with your new bait, you ride towards the small town of Rhodes. There you will be selling these to the local butcher, which isn’t going to be a great sell as he always wants a large cut to make a profit. Oh well, brings in some money for now. You arrive at the butcher and he is already negotiating with two fellows, so you decide to wait for your turn next to your horse.

“YOU man, are a thief!” The older man yells as he is pointing his finger at the butcher. He swiftly turns himself around and walks always with heavy paces. He isn’t exactly looking where he is going in frustration that he almost bumps into your horse. A bit annoyed and maybe embarrassed he looks at your horse and notices the dead deer and birds that are hanging on the back.

“You sell these?” He asks indignantly

“I do” you respond with your arms crossed and ready to make a deal “Interested?”

“Depends, do you sell these for a reasonable price, unlike SOME people around here?” He snarls at the butcher

“For you, I can make a good price” as you raise an eyebrow

Eventually, it’s a business here and you don’t feel bad about going behind his back. The old man gives you a tap on the shoulder and walks away, letting the other man still standing there. “I need a drink… Pearson, handle the rest will you?”

Pearson stretches out his arm to give you a hand “Don’t mind him, he’s just being Uncle… that means being drunk and unsocial”

You shake your head as you adjust your hat and shake his hand. You are just happy you sold the animals for a good price and not for a much lower. That means you can buy that new gun holster you’ve been eyeing since you don’t know, forever?

“Do you mind bringing them to our camp? I promise it’s not that far…” Pearson asks “Sure, I could do that” You might do them a favor as they could be potential new customers. You mount your horse to follow him out of Rhodes. After a short but very nice walk through nature, you end up at a camp that is resided next to the Flat iron lake. From what you can see the camp is pretty big with a lot of people scattered around. Some ladies doing laundry and there are some man doing the heavy lifting. You even notice a young boy walking by, must be a nice community they have built together. Pearson asks you to help him carry the deer and turkeys towards his cooking station and you oblige. He’s got his own little kitchen set up with a cauldron, supplies cooking station. He must be the camp cook then.

“You make the food around here,” you ask as you try to make small talk.

“I do!, well at least I try too.” He corrects himself“ Cooking the same meat every day makes it hard to come up with something different, you know?” The deer is something we hadn’t had in a while, so that’s a treat!”

You think by yourself that the region you are in now is widely populated by deer. So, either they just arrived at this place or they just don’t hunt that well. You hope for the last of course.

“Well if I catch anymore, I’d could come over to sell them to your camp” You suggest lightly

“Hmm that’s not a bad idea…” Pearson is scratching his chin “Let me fetch you your money now”

You watch him walk away towards a big tent where a dark-haired, black tailcoat and black hat man is sitting on a small stool. He is slouched back and is smoking a big cigar. They briefly talk together. When Pearson comes back with the money he hands it over to you and starts scratching his head. “Just a quick question” He starts “I was talking to our boss over there, about that idea of yours, swinging by once in a while… and err, would you be interested in providing food and maybe some pelts on a regular basis for our camp…”

You try to contain your joy for the idea you planted and has worked now. And let him continue…

“The guys around here don’t always have time to go hunting, because of all the business and such... and well I can only catch rabbits and small fish��Dutch over there“ He points at the man he was talking to before, “ thinks it’s a good idea to bring you in for that job”

“Well... what does it pay? And how much do you need a week” you start with your regular negotiation

“That’s the thing,” he says anxiously “We can pay you or course, but we just had some rough times behind us… we thought you could have your own tent and such over here. As err a sort of compensation deal?” Pearson looks worried for your answer.

You start to scratch the back of your head now and look around the camp. That is a bit different than you imagined. All fun and games to set up your tent here but you still need to make money.

“What my friend tries to say is…” Dutch has walked up and is standing now in front of you. He has one arm up with the cigar in his index and middle finger.

“What about joining our group, who can protect you… if so needed. I reckon a lady alone on the road will attract some sort of men so... we can give you shelter, a safe place to sleep. You are always free to leave of course”

He has a point about being unsafe at some places… You sometimes have to spend your earned money on renting a room just to be sure your safe that night. Dutch sees you are agreeing with his statement and stretches out his hand to shake. His grip is strong and frim. In body language that means he wants you to know he’s boss.

“For the time being ... I’ll be tagging along” you say to him He has a stern but accepting look on his face.

“Where are you from... originally,” He asks curiously

“Born in the east, at the coast. Have been traveling ever since I can remember”

“Interesting, well… I’m sure you will like it here. Pearson, will you ask Miss Grimshaw where she can set up her tent and such, so miss...?” he waits till you fill in his sentence “Y/N” “So miss Y/N can have her own space. Very nice, to meet a lady so ... adventures” Dutch adds as he starts walking away.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr community #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x female reader #Chasing the country #fanfic #story #rdr universe #Sean MacGuire #dutch van der linde #mary beth gaskill #X reader #arthur morgan imagines #headcanon #red dead redemption x reader

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sepublic · 5 years ago

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A Monsterverse Gigan Movie Proposal

The movie opens up on a bit of a news-style documentary, discussing the cultural impact the Kaiju have had on us. We see various clips of the Kaijus’ impact; We have memes, plushies and toys designed after them. People have capitalized by selling merchandise and food themed after famous Kaiju. Cashiers get an extra tip by having boxes encouraging customers to vote with money who is better; Godzilla or Kong?

There are talkshows, documentaries, conspiracies, all that jazz. High-end fashion is deliberately fashioned after Kaiju, with those designed after Kaiju such as Ghidorah or Hedorah being particularly controversial. There are even religious movements and straight-up cults that worship the Kaiju as gods.

Everyone’s talking about Godzilla, Mothra, or Rodan and whatnot. People make art, and photos taken by drones are all the craze by tabloids and news outlets. People tend to make protests about the Kaiju, either advocating their destruction, or further cooperation, such as by leaving them alone, or tending to them, etc. As a way to build funds and encourage societal awareness and acceptance of Kaiju, Monarch has even authorized little tours where people can get relatively close to friendlier Kaiju, such as Baragon or even Godzilla!

Alas, it’s not all fun and games, as there are many illegal versions of these officially-santcioned tours. The government has designated ‘Kaiju Parks’, areas where Kaiju tend to roam that are cut off from the rest of humanity for obvious reasons. While there are official tours through these parks to observe friendlier Kaiju (from afar, of course), others are a lot less… legal.

And we see this in the film, where a boat illegally takes some tourists up-close to a slumbring Kaiju on some rocks in the ocean. While the tourists take pictures and selfies, the boat-driver quietly tries to take skin samples of the Kaiju, hoping to make a profit, when people suddenly begin disappearing, because surprise- The remaining Kamacuras, now more grown, has upgraded their camouflage to full-on invisibility and is using humanity’s tendency to flock towards Kaiju to get some meals!

Ultimately, the movie is meant to discuss theatrics, culture, and our relationship with Kaiju and how we interact with them, and vice-versa… Or more properly, how we REACT to them, because by the end of the day we’re just ants in their eyes. And while society’s acceptance and relationship with the Kaiju has begun to peak, there are still those who would sabotage it, for a wide variety of reasons.

After this big reveal and discussion, we cut to our regular human protagonists, as well as two new faces. One of them is a struggling, online artist who regularly draws Kaiju and posts them online, although she is disappointed by her lack of reblogs and thus has to work at some low-end job to survive. This Artist (who will be called as such for now) is clearly based off of Gengo Kotaka, and is additionally a bit of a meta representation of artists who post their works online but unfortunately get little attention.

Artist also has another friend who draws, who is not-so-subtly implied to be a bit of a Monsterfucker, especially with her fanart (which is straight-up images from that one Godzilla manga where the monsters are buff and humanoid). Artist goes through her usual routine, lamenting a lack of commissions or anyone else interested in her work, when she suddenly gets an email!

It’s from World Children’s Land, a company dedicated to the construction of Theme Parks and other attractions! The email is sent by a Japanese entrepreneur, who explains how he has had plans to create a themepark centered around Kaiju, for all ages! His plans for it are big, too- He hopes that this park, named Monsterland/Kaijuland, will become big enough to rival attractions such as Six Flags, Legoland, and even Disney World!

Anyhow, the Entrepeneur noticed Artist’s work online, and impressed, is hoping to hire her to work as a graphics designer and cartoonist for Monsterland. Artist, thrilled to not only get work but also a job centered around her passion and hyperfixation, gleefully accepts her participation in this ambitious project.

We learn more about Monsterland, as we see it getting constructed. It’s huge, about the size of your typical Disneyland, maybe even bigger. It has many attractions, including a hotel for guests to stay at, multiple rides based off of various Kaiju, restauraunts and appropriately-themed food, etc. There’s even a section for particularly high-class adults to party and discuss their love for Kaiju.

And Monsterland’s biggest attraction? Why, it’s none other than a giant statue of Godzilla himself, the biggest in existence! It’s not quite the Big G’s size, but it’s close to it, and most impressive! It even lights up to mimic his Atomic Breath!

The project was started by our entrepreneur (dubbed C1 until I figure out an actual name) and his protégé of sorts, C2. Both are from Japan, and explain to various news outlets how their main motivation for creating Monsterland is to celebrate mutually with fans all over the world their love of Kaiju, as well as encouraging an appreciation and understanding of the creatures.

And to do this, C1 reveals that the Grand Opening’s tickets will be set at a lower price than usual! Lo and behold, Monsterland’s reception is amazing as pre-orders and tickets are rapidly sold out in record time, with Monster fans of all ages and locales marking their calendars and plans to attend Monsterland.

Amidst all of these reveals, we also see our typical Monarch protagonists and Zilla, who has grown since his debut (although he’s still pretty small compared to other Kaiju). Zilla ends up fighting Crustaceous Rex, a giant crustacean-cephalopod monster that emerges from the deep. Zilla manages to win and C-Rex slinks off, although it’s clear it’s formed a bit of a rivalry with Zilla now.

Other characters include Cameron Winters- While based off of the character from the 1998 Animated series, the two are pretty different. For starters, Cameron is female, and a PoC (probably African-American). A wealthy entrepreneur, Cameron is known for her striking white hair and her cunning wit.

Having found no one she can actually bear to marry and have children with, Cameron, feeling the desire for a protégé, has adopted a hapless orphan girl and begun to raise her as a successor of sorts. This successor (named S for now) seems reserved and well-off, but deep down she’s uncomfortable from all of the pressures placed on her and desires freedom to be herself.

Cameron is involved with some operation of sorts that has something to do with Monsterland, and S is just there for the ride. Also introduced is a hippy-type character who wants humanity to leave the Kaiju alone and whatnot.

As Monsterland begins to form, it becomes clear that C1 and C2 are a bit suspicious. Aside from the two tending to act very stilted and forced, Artist notices while wandering around a few weird things every now and then. At one point, she swears she hears a loud skittering noise, even as she observes other employees who are stiff like C1. She eavesdrops on large shipments of materials such as Lead, and is at one point caught sneaking by C2. She’s spared and let off, and C1 advises his protégé to leave her be, as she’s ‘just doing her job and being curious’.

Likewise, Artist can’t complain because C1 is receptive to her art and encouraging, the first positive reception she’s gotten in a long while. Nevertheless, she takes note of what she’s noticed, even as the Hippy loudly protests outside.

The audience soon discovers the shadiness of Monsterland. C1 is apparently buying nuclear materials, and is working with Cameron Winters (who is for the most part unknowing of his true intentions) and other compatriots such as Raul, the new leader of the Red Bamboo, to illegally capture and smuggle various Lesser Kaiju.

Among these monsters are none other than Zilla, who gets kidnapped. Even as our Monarch protagonists try to find him, new incidents sprout up when Anguirus appears from the ocean and attacks a city!

For some reason, Anguirus is on the attack, despite being a normally peaceful Kaiju. He rampages through the city, smashing buildings as he heads for the center… When all of a sudden, he begins moving away from the city, further in-land. Similar incidents soon sprout up, with none other than Godzilla himself appearing.

In the wake of these attacks, everyone is talking and wondering why the two are acting strangely. Some at Monarch point out that the two Kaiju seem to be focused more on heading into the city and digging at various points, than they are at actually attacking things. Likewise, the two seem pretty careful, waiting for humans to get out of the way before moving in, and at one point Anguirus was even warded off by the military.

We eventually get a reveal of C1 interacting with none other than Alan Jonah himself (with Artist potentially catching this). We don’t get any context to their conversation, but Jonah is apparently wary of sabotaging Humanity’s one good deed in accepting the Kaiju. However, C1 convinces him that what they’re doing will result in Humanity being properly put in its place, once and for all.

Of course, Jonah is suspicious of C1, wondering if they have any other motives, but C1 remains adamant. He also notes that with Godzilla and Anguirus on his tail, Jonah doesn’t have much room nor time to think and be picky, and advises him to choose wisely. Jonah, weighing the situation, agrees to collaborate with C1 on his plan to ‘humble’ humanity. In return, he needs help from C1 in keeping Godzilla and Anguirus away while the plan unfolds, and C1 promises a potent ally…

We eventually cut to Godzilla roaming the wilderness in hot-pursuit of something, apparently looking towards the sky- When all of a sudden, we hear screams. We cut to none other than a new monster- Gigan, our psycho cybernetic space-chicken!

Gigan quickly proves his bloodlust in attacking hapless civilians, slicing apart buildings and reveling in the bloodshed. Godzilla, angered, challenges Gigan, but it doesn’t go well. Godzilla is caught off-guard by how incredibly sharp Gigan’s blades are, and the audience in-universe and out sees him bleed for the first time at Gigan’s hands.

Gigan quickly wounds Godzilla with countless cuts, bleeding him out as he takes sadistic pleasure in the battle. Before Gigan can finish off a delirious Godzilla, however, Kong comes in and rescues him. Gigan is driven off, and the two head to the ocean. Following this, Kaiju activity spikes as other Titans begin roaming around, apparently on Kong’s orders, looking out for something…

The film’s climax culminates when Monarch protagonists such as Mark, Madison, Nick, etc., are invited to the luxury, high-end party in Monsterland. Meanwhile, Artist notifies others in Monarch of what she’s seen and heard of, and Jonah begins coordinating his cargo towards Monsterland.

Cue Opening Day, as lots of fun is had and so forth. Rides are ridden, games are played, toys and plushies are handed out as guests treat themselves and bond with each other over a mutual love for Kaiju. At the high-end part of Monsterland, Madison is walking around in the highly luxurious party, which is populated by typical upper-crust people. Monarch is sure this is a trap, but they have no choice if they want to know- Plus, Zilla tends to listen to Nick and Madison anyway.

Eventually, Madison meets S, and as the two get to know each other, the big attraction for the luxury party is revealed. A giant, in-door dome opens up to reveal an arena, where captured monsters are forced to fight one another as the audience makes their bets!

Those at Monarch are clearly revolted, watching in horror as attractions such as Queen Bee or Rhinosaurus are made to duel. Worst of all, Raul takes center-stage, revealing himself to the protagonists and happily explaining how he became the new leader of the Red Bamboo. The other party guests jeer as the protagonists are rounded up, to be thrown into the arena with one of the monsters and executed amidst a bloodthirsty audience.

S, taking a liking to Madison, helps sneak her out of her confinement, explaining that she feels little love for Winters. Madison finds Zilla in his cage, and after comforting and calming him down, quickly notices Komodithrax, the monster who is supposed to kill her and the others.

Komodithrax is hostile, but Zilla manages to put in a good word for his human friends with her. A bit of a plan is hatched- Meanwhile, Godzilla and Anguirus arrive to attack Jonah’s cargo. Godzilla’s nuclear breath strikes an invisible object in the sky, revealing a cloaked, giant carrier transporting something…

The big death match between our human friends and Komodithrax arrives (after a cruel battle between Zilla and Rhinosaurus that the former wins). At first, Komodithrax seems ready to kill the protagonists as the audience jeers… But it’s just to stall and distract while S and a group of other protagonists, led by Artist, help free all of the monsters.

The monsters break free of their captivity, causing havoc as Zilla and Komodithrax break through the dome. The party-goers scream and flee as quite a few are maimed pretty gruesomely at the hands of monsters such as Queen Bee, who is able to rapidly-fire stingers from her abdomen, or Komodithrax, who lays smokey-gas traps before lighting them into explosions with a spark of flame.

It’s utter chaos, and as Madison and Nick direct Zilla, who helps guide the monsters to freedom with Komodithrax, the other protagonists storm the Tower of Operations, confronting C1 and C2.

The two reveal their plans, even as the scene cuts to showing the carrier, downed by Godzilla. The two head towards it… when it breaks opens, and out comes Ghidorah himself!

But he’s bit smaller, and weaker- He only has two heads and one tail, and can’t even generate storms! Luckily for him, he’s got back-up in the form of Gigan, who helps him fend off the duo as they head towards Monsterland.

The visitors panic as the two monsters get closer, and automated turrets rise from the walls of the park, keeping them confined. C1, with Jonah nearby, explains how Ghidorah needs to draw from huge sources of energy to regenerate- Like a volcano, for example.

Jonah has been slowly nursing Ghidorah back to health, but the process is taking a while and is imperfect. Thus, in comes C1, who reveals that they’ve built an incredibly powerful energy-generator at the center of the park, hidden by lead walls, right beneath the giant Godzilla statue.

C1 explains his plan- He allegedly feels that humanity has gotten too arrogant, too buddy-buddy with the Kaiju and need to remember their place. By creating Monsterland, the ultimately symbol of humanity’s love of Kaiju, he’s gathered Monsters’ biggest fans from all across the globe… Just so they can be slaughtered by the creatures they loved- In the case of the rich people, by the Lesser Kaiju (their release was actually planned by C2 and S was acting on his orders the whole time), or by King Ghidorah himself!

The plan is to have Gigan protect and lead Ghidorah to the energy generator in the park. Ghidorah, feeding off of the generator, will be able to fully regenerate back to his full-strength, and with Gigan’s help, he’ll slaughter all of the visitors and defeat Godzilla and eventually Kong, reclaiming his title as King of the Monsters.

His kingship regained, Ghidorah will resume his hunt and terraforming of the planet. Humanity will fear and hate the Kaiju, with the monsters’ biggest advocates having been slaughtered in one fell-swoop by the creatures they love in a symbolic act, while the rest are hunted down. An irreversible rift will be torn between Humans and Monster, as the former’s numbers are dwindled down. Due to their newfound hatred of Monsters, humans will refuse to rely on friendlier ones like Mothra, attacking them and sealing their doom in the process.

The protagonists are horrified, but eventually Mark calls out C1 on his alleged worship of the Kaiju, wondering if he has ulterior motives. C1 admits to this, nodding at Jonah and telling him that his use is served, and he is now free to do as he pleases. For a moment, things are at a stand-off, when one of the protagonists manages to shoot C1.

At first, they seem fazed… But then they quickly recover. More shots are fired but C1 keeps trudging onward, unaffected. Addressing Mark, C1 offers a hint to his true motives… Even as his body violently contorts, and out sprouts a hideous, cockroach-like monster, all Nosk from Hollow Knight-style!

C2 joins C1 as they attack the protagonists. Jonah realizes he’s made a mistake (big surprise there) and he flees with his group as they try to recoup and recover from the revelations. The protagonists try to survive, avoiding their attackers (dubbed Hunters), as other employees reveal their true natures as well.

S is surprised by this as well, and in the chaos she groups with Winters, who isn’t aware of her involvement. Meanwhile, Zilla arrives with his little army of monsters to destroy the armed turrets, briefly finding opposition from C-Rex, who arrives from the ocean for a rematch. C-Rex and Zilla clash, even as the visitors flee just in time to avoid Ghidorah and Gigan.

The two head straight for the Energy-generator, only for Kong to appear as Godzilla and Anguirus catch up. Cue a huge Monster battle as Monster Land is utterly destroyed. Gigan continues to show his bloodthirstiness, even as Ghidorah tries to make contact with the generator. Anguirus gets his face slashed, but Godzilla quickly shows he’s wizened up to Gigan’s act.

Amidst it all, the human protagonists desperately try to not die as the Hunters pursue them. Zilla comes to rescue them, his battle with C-Rex inadvertently taking down a few Hunters in the process. Winters even rallies some terrified rich people into helping her take down a Hunter using an axe and a chandelier.

The big Monster Battle with Ghidorah and Gigan VS Godzilla, Kong, and Anguirus culminates at the center of Monsterland, with the giant Godzilla statue and the Tower of Operations. The statue is utterly thrashed, thrown to the side as it slams into the Tower, and the chaos causes it to further topple.

Back on the ground-level, C1 and C2 are caught beneath the falling debris, mortally wounded and bleeding to death. Mark explains to a dying C1 that his plan has failed; Ghidorah won’t regenerate and will be defeated before he can. Humanity will continue to love Kaiju (er, probably) due to Godzilla and others saving them to begin with. Likewise, the visitors at the Theme Park were saved, so no tragedy there!

C1 is angry and lashes out for Mark, but he steps back as he and the others retreat, riding on Zilla’s back. C-Rex, defeated, stumbles back into the ocean, even as the other freed monsters watch the main battle at the center.

The battle reaches a climax when the energy generator opens up, now-activated with Ghidorah’s presence. Ghidorah briefly bites onto it, drawing energy as Ichi begins to grow from between Ni and Kevin… But luckily, the other Monsters pull him away. The battle ends when Kong uses Gigan’s own buzzsaw against himself, pushing Gigan’s left-arm into his chest and severing it at the elbow.

Wielding Gigan’s arm like a sword, Kong mortally wounds Gigan, briefly abandoning him to help the others keep away Ghidorah. Even as Gigan flees, flying into the atmosphere, Kong uses his blade to slice off Ghidorah’s legs at the kneecaps, and eventually his tail and wings. Ghidorah, immobilized, is finished off when Kong repeatedly stabs him in the back with Gigan’s blade.

Too wounded, Ghidorah falls unconscious, and the three Kaiju celebrate their victory. The human protagonists arrive alongside Monarch reinforcements, who begin to secure Ghidorah’s unconscious body. Military reinforcements fly after Gigan, attempting to shoot him down, when a giant golden object appears in space orbiting the planet. The craft beams up Gigan and disappears, to the shock of the protagonists.

Following this, a triumphant Kong splits off from Godzilla and Anguirus, leading some of the monsters to freedom, while the rest swim with Godzilla and Anguirus out into the ocean amidst the sunrise.

In the aftermath of it all, humanity still appreciates the Kaiju as the reasons for Godzilla and Anguirus’ attacks are explained. Winters and S settle down, evading imprisonment through a bunch of legal loopholes, as Raul escapes into the night. The remaining Hunters escape, receiving assistance from none other than Jonah and his group. The protagonists are glad humans can still co-exist with Monsters, just as Serizawa wished, and Artist gets a new job working with Monarch and its Public Relations branch.

This is revealed at the end of the film, in news headlines credits, post-credits scenes, etc. The final post-credits scene reveals a strange, armored being sitting in a golden command-center, surrounded by some Hunters as she observes the news. Frustrated at C1 and C2’s dumb idea, noting the Controller never should’ve listened to them, she decides to take command and send in someone named Mugalu.

Additional Notes:

-Prior to the big corrupt Monster-fighting party, we see a random rich dude getting ready to go as his wife criticizes his love of Monsters, citing that it’ll get him killed or something like that. This is foreshadowing to how the upper-crust elites invited by C1 are victims themselves, with their wealthy loved ones and friends seeing their deaths and being horrified, using their influence to spread Anti-Kaiju sentiment.

-C1 briefly talks on a device with someone named ‘Zaguries’, reassuring her that the Controller’s faith in him is well-founded. The being at the end of the movie is implied to be Zaguries, who had doubts over C1’s plan.

-During the chaos when the Lesser Kaiju are released at the Monster-Fighting ring, Raul manages to survive and escape by revealing another orb-like device in his eye socket. It acts as a flashbang/grenade/smokebomb, helping cover his retreat as he escapes.

-On Gigan’s character;

Gigan is very clearly a cruel and sadistic Kaiju, reveling in the bloodshed as he attacks cities and takes glee from mass deaths. At times, the M-Hunters have to rein him in, as he gets distracted attacking people instead of doing his actual orders. Gigan quickly proves himself a brutal fighter, being the first to make Godzilla bleed. He repeatedly attacks Godzilla up-close, using his blades to hook onto Godzilla, and not giving him time to use his nuclear breath as he tears up his enemy.

Gigan also has the ability to fly- Thanks to his cybernetic enhancements, he can turn off his gravity, enabling him to float and fly through the sky like an eel swimming through water. Gigan still needs to have time to lift off with a running start, though.

Ultimately, Gigan is proven to be the quintessential bully, and he flees into space after getting his butt kicked brutally by Godzilla, Kong, and Anguirus in the final battle- As a bully, he’s inherently a coward. The Earth Defense Force tries to give chase, but ultimately Gigan escapes with his tail between his legs, leaving Ghidorah behind.

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kassandra-lorelei · 6 years ago

Note

can you do a fic where something goes wrong with niles' green card or american status somehow and max asks/convinces cc to marry niles so he can stay?

Here we are at very long last, my friend! I’m so very sorry it took so long to get this one done - my bestie @missbabcocks1 and I did the first half together (and kind of an interim chapter not shown here due to smut), and then it took me a while from being busy and from not feeling my absolute best to getting back on this. But it’s all done, and I hope you enjoy it

@holomoriarty

The chair she was sat in, hard and uncomfortable in front of the official’s desk, made her feel like she’d gotten in trouble with the principal at school or something.

She wasn’t in trouble - at least, she wasn’t yet. If this Immigration Officer (or whatever title the scrawny little man in front of her held) decided that her answers weren’t good enough, then she would be.

The things she did to get what she wanted sometimes!

She could still remember the look on the butler’s face, rendered speechless by her agreement to marry him to stop him from being deported. It was just like Niles to forget about his own visa deadline until it was too late!

And it was just like Maxwell and Nanny Fine to ask her to step in and help.

But she’d had an ace up her sleeve - the one thing she knew she could get out of agreeing to keep the bane of her existence in the country.

She remembered herself saying the words that had sealed the deal.

“That’s my price, Butler Boy. I want you to get me pregnant.”

Niles had looked kind of…well, more than startled when she’d said that. But he’d agreed, so now it was official.

It would be a deal, she kept telling herself. Like a business deal, only with a little more nudity involved. They’d stay together for a few years to make it look convincing to Immigration Services, then they’d quietly divorce. She’d get the baby she felt she was running out of time to have, and he’d get his permanent residency.

Everybody was gonna win out from this, right?

All she had to do was make sure this thing went off without a hitch. The Immigration Officer was ready to start, and she had to be ready as well.

She was certainly ready for everything else.

So, she let the questioning begin, allowing the official to ask her everything she could ever possibly know about the butler.

And know things, she did. The answers came out with barely any hesitation at all, and she knew it was all correct. It was…weird, the fact that the person she clearly knew best was the one who annoyed her the most.

She felt that little tidbit of information about them might garner more questions if she mentioned it though, so she kept it to herself.

It was a relief when it was finally all done, and she could leave at long last.

Her “fiancé” was waiting for her outside, and they put on a little show because they knew the Officer was watching from just inside the office doorway. They took each other’s hands as they greeted each other and exchanged a quick (prepared for) peck on the lips, before turning to leave, still hand-in-hand and talking about anything but the interrogation they’d both just faced.

Of course, that had all been a front. Once they were clear of the building, the hands were dropped and the conversation went straight to where they’d just been.

“Did the allergy one come up for you?” C.C. asked, remembering how she’d been more than certain in her answer.

Niles nodded, apparently just as sure, “Yes - I told them that you were allergic to sage, crucifixes and holy water.”

C.C. scowled. She should’ve seen that coming.

Luckily, she knew exactly what to say in retaliation.

“Hm, sounds like someone doesn’t wanna live up to his end of the bargain,” she said casually, an edge to her voice that let him know she could cancel the whole thing at any time. “One would’ve thought you couldn’t afford to miss a chance to get laid, Hazel. It happens so rarely, as it is…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the butler stiffen as he halted in his tracks. Up until that moment, they’d been on their way to a hotel she’d booked for them, for the express purpose of trying to conceive. They’d both figured it was best to start trying as soon as possible, so an attempt straight after their meeting with the Immigration Officer made sense.

Again, it was like a business deal. They’d arranged a date and a time, a location, and there might be profitable results once they were done.

And they were both getting a good deal out of it. If Niles behaved himself, that was.

He certainly looked white - like all the blood had drained from his face at the meaning behind her words. He knew damn well that if he didn’t live up to his end of the agreement and at least attempt to give C.C. a baby, then she would break the engagement and he’d be out of the country faster than one could say “illegal alien”.

For extra effect, she half-folded her arms, resting her left elbow in her right palm and giving him a perfect view of the ring that he’d given her.

“An old family heirloom”, he’d called it. Said it would look more convincing for Immigration. She’d been inclined to agree, and the ring was beautiful, but she hardly thought it necessary, considering this was just a business deal.

Well, it did also make a pretty good bargaining chip whenever she needed him to apologise for being his own idiot self, too.

Much to her surprise, Niles wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly. They were still in the proximity of the Immigration Office, so this could be part of the show they were putting on, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find herself…kind of allured by the possessiveness of the gesture.

“Now, whoever said that?” he said, arching an eyebrow, and trying to look debonair (but failing miserably).

C.C. rolled her eyes at him and they kept moving, his arm never leaving her waist for a moment. She had to get used to it (and it still felt kinda good), especially if he was about to do far more than that.

“I said it, Dust Buster. Or are your eyes getting so worn out and ancient now that you literally can’t see who said it?” she waved a hand teasingly in front of his face. “It’s me, Scrubbing Bubbles - the next notch-on-your-bedpost-to-be, probably bringing the grand total up to two.”

Niles took her wrist and lowered it out of his face, “I’ll have you know, in my time I’ve been something of a ladies’ man.”

C.C. raised a critical eyebrow, “Oh yeah, you’re a regular Casanova! Also, for the record, the phrase “in my time” is perhaps the oldest you’ve ever sounded and that truly is saying something!”

They continued in a similar vein all the way to the hotel.

To anybody else in the world, they would’ve looked like an ordinary couple. It was only in the mind of the producer about how false it all was.

About how in a few years, she knew it would be over and the deal would be complete.

……………………………………………………………………

“Does it say anything yet?”

C.C. rolled her eyes for what felt like the twelfth time in the last minute or less, before settling them back on the pregnancy test in her hand. She felt like she’d better check it anyway, even if Niles’ last round of insistent asking had only just happened and the answer had been “no” then, too.

Since getting started on him trying to live up to his end of the bargain, she and Niles had both spent most of their time either at work or at her penthouse. Making it all look good for the Immigration people (who were still sniffing around, even though they’d practically been a couple, they’d done so much together) was ten times easier when he was living there with her and sharing a car ride to work.

A lot of things had felt easier with him living there, really. She was woken up every morning to the smell of a cooked breakfast, there were always freshly washed and ironed clothes for her to wear (dry cleaning had taken forever before, on some weekends), and she always had somebody to talk to – either about her workday, or just in general, and that last point was made all the better, considering how well-matched they were in terms of wit.

They ate their meals together, they walked Chester, they patiently sat through anything the Immigration people had to say or ask about when they came around (and made fun of them once they’d left).

It had gotten…comfortable. And comforting. If she was going to admit it to herself, she’d say that the penthouse hadn’t felt so welcoming in a long time.

So much like a home…

But before her mind could get too secure in that thought, it reminded her that it had also led to them getting in a lot of attempts at conceiving. It had been practically…no, not practically. Every night since he’d been there!

Just the thought of…well, all the things that they’d tried and done in that time, really…was turning the warmth from thinking about breakfast for two instead of for one into her feeling a little hot under the collar, so she discreetly shifted in her seat just before she answered his question.

“Not yet,” she told him, trying not to sigh too loudly as she watched him pace up and down the back of the sofa. “Just slow it down, Dust Buster. It takes a while for these things to show up.”

Niles looked at her, let out his own sigh, and rounded the corner of the sofa to come and sit next to her.

“I know that! I’m just…eager to find out if our-”

“Little endeavour?” C.C. finished for him, letting a smirk play about her features.

The butler feigned offence for a brief second, but then it morphed directly into a smirk of his own.

“Well, I’d hardly say little,” he waggled his eyebrows, waiting for her to roll her eyes again (he was probably keeping count at this stage) before he went back to his more serious business. “But yes, I’d like to know if it worked.”

“You’ll find out soon enough…” she peered at the little plastic stick again, before having to squint at it even closer. It looked like…a line was appearing? Was there a line appearing?! “Hey, I think I see something coming…!”

That caught the butler by his eagerness, his eyes widening as he shifted even closer, “You do? You’re not toying with me, are you?”

C.C. lowered the stick into her lap and looked at him, unimpressed, “Oh, come on, Niles; why would I do that?”

It was kinda weird, but the longer they’d spent time together talking and thinking aloud about having a baby (everything from names, to activities they’d do with the kid as they grew up, to bantering the pros and cons of who they’d look like) the more excited they’d both become at the prospect.

And they both knew it, too, even if Niles apparently just had to make a little joke about it.

“Sorry. I know you wouldn’t, really,” he looked sheepish for a moment, but it quickly turned into his usual quipping. “And I know that I should count myself lucky, too. Most in your species tend to kill after successfully mating.”

Of course, being around each other practically every single day for the last couple of decades had heightened C.C.’s ability to fire back a zinger whenever he tossed one to her. But having him live in the penthouse with her had honed that ability to a fine, sharp point.

“Day ain’t over yet, Butler Boy,” she deadpanned immediately, keeping her eyes on the test. Something was definitely happening there. “Now keep quiet a second – the result’s coming through.”

And something really was coming through. Before her eyes, the little screen was changing…

To reveal the two little lines that would tell them both all they needed to know.

C.C.’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart start to speed up.

It was real. It was real, and it was really happening.

“It…” she was trying hard to take in air and not to let her jaw drop too far at the same time, all the while reaching up to cover her mouth with one hand. “It…says I’m pregnant…!”

Niles looked like he could immediately burst into happy tears, “You…you mean it?!”

“I absolutely do, Hazel!” C.C. cried in return, leaning towards him so that he could see the screen. “Check it out for yourself!”

The little strangled yelp of overwhelmed delight that the butler gave told her that he’d seen the result.

“See?” the producer smirked, nudging him in the ribs. “Proof that there is life in the butler’s little footmen yet!”

Not that Niles appeared to be paying attention to the attempt at banter. He was still staring at the test in awe, his eyes glistening.

“I…I don’t quite know what to say! I…”

He slowly looked up at her, meeting her gaze and holding it steadily.

“We’re having a baby.”

C.C. didn’t know what it was – the way he’d said it, or the reality of the situation really sinking in, but it suddenly felt to her as though the gravity in the room was suddenly getting weaker and stronger at the same time…

She could only nod at him weakly, “Yeah…we are…”

She didn’t know who leaned in first, but as soon as their lips brushed, and then started more than brushing, it became clear what the whole thing with the gravity was about.

She let the test slip out of her hands onto the sofa, before using them to bring Niles closer as she reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. His automatically went around her middle, and held her tightly to him, like he didn’t want to let go…

And the only clear thing that could make its way into C.C.’s mind was how much she didn’t want him to. Decades of apparently being enemies and dancing around whatever was really going on suddenly seemed like a waste of time, in comparison to what they were doing right then and had spent the last few weeks doing there in the penthouse. Years of being told what to do by her mother, and following expectations handed out to her by the people she’d surrounded herself with all became meaningless. It had hit her that she really didn’t have to care about any of it!

And she didn’t think she’d ever felt better.

Something, perhaps at long last, had snapped.

All that was left to do was see what happened when she tried to move things forward.

Not that that felt easy.

It nearly didn’t come out, even as she pulled away from him and just said it, “Uh…you know how we…agreed that after a couple of years of being married, we’d divorce, and then everything would go back to the way it was?”

Niles briefly pursed his lips tightly before he answered, “I couldn’t forget it.”

C.C. took in a silent breath before she continued.

“Well, what if we were to…not do that?”

The butler stared back at her, close to gaping, “I…I’m not completely sure that I’m following you…”

“What if we were to, after the baby was born and had grown up a little bit, just…stay married?” she let her eyes drop away to the floor, feeling her cheeks growing warmer. “Kind of like as a forever thing…”

Before he could respond, her mind suddenly worried that maybe she wasn’t making herself clear enough and she found herself talking even more.

“I’ve…really liked doing this. Being like this – like a proper couple, with you. And thinking about how in a few years it could all be down the toilet…that terrifies me, Niles! Somehow even worse than admitting to any of this! I don’t want to be woken up in the morning and not have your snoring be the reason! I don’t want to go to work and know that at the end of the day, it’ll just be me and then me and the baby going home in the car! I don’t want to eat a crappy microwaveable dinner by myself and go to bed feeling miserable! I’ve done all – well, most – of that already, and I’m sick of it pretending I can keep doing it! I want to marry you, and I want to stay married to you.”

The silence that followed also felt like it needed filling, and C.C. ran a hand through her hair in agitation as she imagined him saying no.

No to staying together for longer than their agreement. No to trying to be a real couple and then a family after that.

No to her. Not that she didn’t understand, if she herself was the reason.

“I mean, I completely get it if you don’t want to,” she said, keeping her eyes on the floor so they couldn’t meet his. “You only went in for this as a favour, and I’m not exactly anybody’s first choice to spend their whole entire life wi-”

She never finished what she wanted to say, because Niles had brought her face up to his and kissed her again before she could.

And when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, “Maybe you should rethink that last statement of yours.”

At hearing that and upon letting it sink in, C.C. felt like she was finding out she was pregnant all over again. Her heart was ready to burst in her chest, and her smile was growing increasingly wider.

“You…really mean that-”

“If you hadn’t just blurted out everything that has been going on in your head for God knows how long, I’d have been sat here quietly frightened of the exact same thing that you were,” Niles explained, sounding as relieved as she felt. “I don’t want any of this to end either, Babs! I want to wake up in the morning with you right there beside me, only to have you complain that my snoring shook the bed so hard that you fell out! I want to go about my workday knowing that any minute, I’ll get to bring your lunch and find out how many theatre assistants you managed to tear to shreds in the last few hours! I want to be a parent with you, and put our little one to bed at night, knowing we’ll all wake up the next morning and do the same thing over again! I want to be married to you. Nobody else. And, visa or none, agreeing to this whole thing in the first place was the best decision I ever made!”

C.C. could feel her own eyes welling up with tears by the time he was finished, “Me too!”

They fell into an embrace after that, both starting to sob more than either of them would probably admit to later. Neither probably knew how long it lasted, either – not that they cared. It was a comfort that they both needed, and it gave them time to cry out anything they had to.

When it finally did end, they leaned in for another quick kiss, and Niles used his thumb to wipe away a couple of stray tears still on C.C.’s cheek.

“There, now…wouldn’t want you to melt before the wedding,” he grinned.

“Oh, shut up, Scrubbing Bubbles,” C.C. sniffed, before managing another smile. “We…we really are going to be okay, aren’t we?”

Niles took her hands and gripped them, “We certainly are. Immigration Services won’t know what hit them.”

The producer didn’t even have to think about that one, “Probably me, if they try and insist on talking like every word we’re saying is a total lie again.”

“I’ll have to make sure I hold you back from doing that,” her fiancé replied, briefly squeezing her hands tighter before apparently realising something. “Oh! That can be our first activity as a couple!”

C.C. had to laugh a little at that, imagining him tackling her to the ground to stop her from fist fighting the next Immigration Officer that they saw, “Well, maybe not our first…!”

Of course, he took it to mean something else entirely. The interested smirk on his face told her that much.

“Hm, I think I know what you’re getting at,” he wiggled his eyebrows again, and nodded down towards her stomach. “Want to get some practice in, before our little one is old enough to ask for a little brother or sister?”

C.C. looked at him, mostly serious, and entwined their fingers, “I was actually thinking more along the lines of calling and inviting my family to lunch, so that we can tell them all the good news.”

That took Niles down a peg or two, very momentarily. But she knew he wouldn’t actually mind, he was just having some of their usual fun before he found out more details.

“Hmm,” he pretended to be put out, but quickly turned it to feigning potentially-interested thought. “…Does that invitation-and-news-telling-session include your mother?”

She grinned back at him immediately, “You bet your best pots and pans it does, baby.”

Getting the chance to potentially make her mother go into cardiac arrest cheered him up, for sure. Letting a beaming smile cross his face, he let go of her hands to reach up and kiss her on the forehead.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he declared, before getting up to go get the phone.

C.C. relaxed back into the sofa, watching him go and picking the pregnancy test back up. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at the way everything had gone – the last couple of weeks or so had been better than she could’ve ever imagined, and she huffed out a laugh to think that at the beginning of them, she’d tried to keep it like a deal she’d made for the company. It had been ridiculous for her to even try to do that, knowing (after having admitted it to herself) how much more comfortable and warm her life felt with Niles right by her side.

With their family just starting, and a whole new adventure of a future stretching out in front of them. Just like anybody else, visa-seekers or not.

Even if other people didn’t think so, they were an ordinary couple. It wasn’t false. This wasn’t a business contract.

It was something far more important and long-lasting than something like that ever would be.

#anon asks #the nanny #niles and cc #niles the butler #cc babcock #otp: butler bitch #otp: always been bitter together

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