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avatarvyakara · 3 years ago

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Strands of Webbing

A Spiderverse Fanfic

Prompts 289-300

“Taking it Easy”

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289. Lineage

“Now just stay close to Uncle Pete, and you’ll be just fine,” soothes Peter.

“Um...I already have an Uncle Pete,” says Charlie through the modulator. “You know him. You’re more like a crazy deformed-mandrill grandpa.”

“Oh. Huh! Well.”

“Not that that’s a bad thing! Anyway, I never knew my real grandpa, Grandma ate him a few months before my mom was born. So it’s kind of nice.”

“...okay? Thanks, I suppose...”

Doing Spider-training usually involves fewer existential crises. (Usually. That time with Miles doesn’t count.) But Charlie’s learning fast, considering the fact that he and his siblings are all out as Spiders-Man for the first time.

Plus, Peter’s world is a decent training ground, given that it doesn’t have too many really bad villains left after all these years.

“Show me what you got, kid.”

Just annoying ones, mainly.

Charlie is good at swinging, surprisingly—well, the twenty or so spiders operating the web-shooters are good at swinging. But combat is an area where he still needs a lot of work.

“What’s wrong, Spider-Man?” taunts Tarantula, holding Charlie down with the sole of his boot. “No quips today?”

“Spiders-Man.”

“¿Qué?” says Tarantula distractedly, swiping near the neck of the suit with a razor-sharp claw.

Which is promptly blocked by a hand that doesn’t quite seem to bend right.

“Spiders-Man, not Spider-Man. Also, Seamus suffers asthma attacks and you’re squishing him. Could you remove your boot, please?”

Whatever the terrorist was expecting, over eight hundred seemingly indestructible cartoon spiders crawling out of a quickly-deflating Spider-suit is apparently not among them

“AAAARGH!”

He tries to stamp on one. It doesn’t have the desired effect. It’s like kicking a brick.

“AAAAAH!”

wHat dId wE JuST SAy, hums a shrill voice in the air, as the spiders crawl up the villain. sEaMUs hAS bOOkmArk lUng, aNd You tHInk stEppIng oN hiM Is goINg to hElp ClEaR HiS COnGesTIon? GOod grIeF tHeRe’s nO ResPeCT foR PeOple wiTh DISabiLitiEs theSe DaYs.

Tarantula faints.

The spiders mill about for a while, then start to crawl back into the suit.

Peter watches the whole thing in horrified fascination.

“Er...nice work, kid. Kids.”

tHaNKs grANdPA pEteR, say the spiders.

“Um...you didn’t bite him or anything, right?”

Someone kicks the modulator back to life as the suit fills up.

“Nah.”

“Oh. Good.”

Next week, Peter gets news that Tarantula has apparently moved to Argentina. He’s tempted—slightly—to book a flight for himself too.

Although it is a lot quieter in New York for a while after that.

290. Mulaney

“But we’ve got to keep checking the news, right? All this stuff with the new President, it’s like having a hospital in a horse. A living, normal-sized horse, and a normal-sized hospital that might be functioning. What is a hospital doing in a horse? Well, how are we supposed to know? All we know is there’s a hospital in a horse, and it’s really [bleep] hard not to wonder what the [bleep] is going to happen next.”

Comedy nights over the Web-chat are a bit of a mixed bag when Ham gets involved.

291. Public

Fine, you really wanna do this one last time? We’ll do this one last time. And then you get the hell out of my office.

My name is J. Jonah Jameson, Junior. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and what did you think I was going to do, put on a mask and my whole life on hold to start using these insane powers? What do you take me for? No, what I did was, I finished up that report on our soldiers in the Korean War, came home...found out that my wife had...had been mugged and killed while I was away...and went back to the press. Made some decent investments using my newfound Good Sense, started up a company (the Joan Darling, J.D. Foundation), kept the Bugle running smooth as silk, got married again and technically adopted my wife’s niece, fostered another kid from a family who took me in during the War while we worked on getting her family out of Pyongyang, saw my son Jon land on the Moon...

And that’s been the last twenty-odd years of my life.

Look, if you’re looking for me to tell you that I became a masked hero and went around making a mess of things, you won’t get it. I don’t like masks. I don’t think heroes are heroic all the time. So I might be handy in a fight, I might have hunches that make me the envy of the world of journalism, but I’m not going to go out and make an alter ego. Anything I do, it’s gonna be as J. Jonah Jameson.

That said...with a company dedicated to buying and selling stocks that produces tens of millions of dollars in revenue, a newspaper that’s the pride of New York, and a network of agents trying to find kids with superpowers and help them learn to control them, J. Jonah Jameson can do a lot.

Done? Good. Get out.

292. Theory

“You getting any of this?” Peter asks Porker, who shakes his head.

An angry mixture of Spanish, Japanese, and Hindi technical terms flies through the air. Peni has SP//dr to translate, Miguel has Lyla interpreting a little behind real-time, and Roshni’s mask contains a built-in Rosetta function in the eyepatches. None of which is available to Peter, who is from 1930s Manhattan and barely speaks passable English (“Be nice to yourself, Gray”).

“Far as I can make out,” says Porker’s future counterpart, “they’re all trying to find a way to explain holographic technology, but the physics in each world is different enough that it shouldn’t actually work. Something to do with the nature of light in each universe.”

—which is interesting because I seem to work in all of them despite my quantum-locked photonics array being fairly unique to Miguel’s world—

—Roshni thinks I might be a reincarnation of someone, like that stock market computer in her world which successfully proved in court that it had been a Vietnamese fisherman in another life—

—Miguel doesn’t believe in reincarnation and Peni believes it wouldn’t have any effect on my projections even if I were—

—so basically they’re comparing quantum theories and screaming at each other—

—which is fun to watch—

“Lyla? Aren’t you supposed to be translating?”

The hologram gives Peter a wry look.

—I can multitask, you know—

293. Sling

As it turns out, the Hudson Valley is actually a great place to try this out.

“You ready?” Peter asks, cautiously—

“Whoooooo!”

Man, if he’d known giving Mary Jane her own web-shooters would make her this happy he would have done it years ago.

“Uhhhh, Peter?!”

“Here we go!” he says, catching her just before she falls and landing on a tree branch. “Just, you know, thwip, and double-tap to release. Here—” He takes her left hand. “How about we go together for a while?”

She nods and smiles and squeezes that hand and he tries not to float off the branch. “So! Where to?”

“Hmm. Ladies first?”

She grins. “Right. Onward!”

Thwip and release. Thwip and release.

Half an hour later they’re completely lost in the summertime woods and Peter cannot find a single reason to care.

294. Realize

Miles had a crush on Gwen right from the start. Gwen thought Miles was kind of cute until he gave her an impromptu haircut, but warmed up to him again fairly quickly. They’ve been best friends—among one another’s best friends—for years.

They’ve also had a kind of on-again-off-again relationship for most of that time. Not quite committed but...well, there have been opportunities to see other people and they haven’t really used them even when they’re on a break.

Nothing formal. It can’t be. Stay in either dimension too long, even with proper food and rest, and they start glitching. Moving it past a certain stage would mean acknowledging the very real possibility that they risk effectively pulling their partner into a death-trap, regardless of advanced healing abilities.

But Gwen makes Miles feel fearless, and Miles makes Gwen feel soft, and that’s something both of them both of them need almost as much as they need the other.

295. Credit

“Nanotech!” boasts Peni excitedly. “And I’ve got it set up to realign itself with the local universe—” she ignores the sotto voce cough of “*Already did that*” from Miguel— “so whatever the local exchange rate and computer software is will be mimicked by the card. Except in my dimension because they’d recognize it, and the pre-electronic eras are harder, but...”

“...we have money,” says Peter B.

Peni rolls her eyes, but chuckles. “That’s right. We have money.”

“Oh thank God.”

296. Siblings

Benjamin P. Parker is older than his sister by all of about eight months. He has also never met her before.

The three-year-old toddles across the floor to where Uncle Peter (always Uncle Peter, he looks like Daddy but he isn’t and he must remember that, says Mommy) is holding a small squirming...thing.

“Sorry, she’s still not used to this kind of travel—” he says.

Miles, who is babysitting, grins. “Hey, no sweat. Hey, Benjy, come and meet May.”

Benjy looks at the mewling...person, he thinks, and wonders why she is in his house—

—and then there’s a strange flash of BenjyMayUnclePeterMiles—

He blinks.

“She’s like me,” he tells his babysitter.

“That she definitely is, Little Bee,” says Miles, smiling. “Just don’t go climbing the walls with her yet, okay?”

“Awww...”

297. Tea

“So, that’s one Earl Grey for Billy, one Boba for Peni, two Green for Hida and Other Peni, one Black for Cindy, one Lemon Grass for Roshni, and one Masala Chai for me,” says Pavitr, taking notes.

“I feel like we’re inviting stereotypes here,” says Roshni.

“I don’t reckon so,” Billy replies, preemptively reaching for the sugar.

“For Peter...coffee. And a reminder of what civilization looks like when you don’t commit blasphemy.”

Pauker glares. “I told you, that was in Boston!”

“And a Peppermint for Addy.”

On her shoulder, Weying the spider bounces excitedly.

“...no, Addy.” That’s from both Peni Parkers at the same time, exasperated in different ways.

“Aw, man...”

298. Perceive

“...you wanna come see?” asks Goggles.

Cindy’s not quite sure how they got to this point.

“Pardon?”

The other Spider shuffles awkwardly.

“You know. The Hobbit. Don’t know much about this Jackson guy, but Peter B. seems to like the way he did Lord of the Rings, and it would help your catch-up plan, so...”

There are a million reasons that this is a bad idea, not least of which is that this sounds remarkably like a date and she’s not entirely sure dating is on the cards for her just now. But then Goggles is trying to be more modern, right? And in the modern day people go to the movies with other people and it’s not necessarily a date. And they’re friends, or at least “fellow Spiders with self-made webbing and a mild disconnect from modern society”. And it’s not like there’s any other connection, because despite checking again and again the pheromones don’t seem to go off around him like they do with some of the others. (We speak not at all of the Incident on Earth-65, thank you.) So if there are any ulterior motives...

If there are any ulterior motives, which again given Goggles’ general nature is unlikely, then they’re caused by biology that’s slightly more regular than whatever happens because of their respective spider-bites.

Silk grins.

Not that that’s a problem. (Because it’s not a date.)

“You know about popcorn?”

Goggles snorts. (It’s a friendly sound.) “Probably.”

“Heh. Just checking. So...maybe this Friday?”

Cindy has a mild panic attack on the bus, and they end up swinging there, but Goggles doesn’t seem to mind. (“You wanna head back?” “No, it’s okay, I got this. Just need a minute.” “Take your time, sweetheart.”) There’s a moment of very slight confusion about paying “Dutch”, but that’s smoothed over soon enough. (“You know the card covers it no matter what, right?” “That’s not the point, though...” “It kind of is, though.”) The story is a little strange, the love triangle confusing, the battle scenes mildly preposterous to two crime-fighters, and the idea of turning a children’s book into...well, basically a war film is absurd for both someone who treats the original books like a second Torah and someone who actually quite liked the original three films. They spend a good two hours afterwards complaining (“kvetching”, in Goggles’ words) and laughing about it as they swing back to Cindy’s apartment and get mildly distracted by an attack from the Lizard. (Who apparently is not a genius time-travelling dinosaur in Goggles’ world, who knew?)

And then Peter tips his hat and says thank you and goodnight, and smiles pretty warmly for someone in monochrome, and pulls a loaf of what looks like homemade cornbread out of a pocket. (“It was Peter B.’s idea, I know it’s a little squashed...” “It smells really good. Thank you.”) And says goodnight again, which she echoes back. And leaves.

(And no pheromones. Not a sniff.)

It’s not a date.

Which neither of them thought it was, obviously.

(And the next time she sees him she is definitely not inviting him over to watch the extended edition of Fellowship of the Ring on DVD. Because that would be much easier for him to interpret as a date. But then, it would only be polite, right? Plus, her home, so less chance for a sudden attack of agoraphobia. If she were doing that. Which she isn’t.)

Somehow the cornbread actually tastes good.

299. Sweet

Everyone from the Spider-Gang—the Original Six—is a little tense when Miles logs on.

But he’s beaming wide.

“I’m a big brother!”

The cheers and whoops at the birth of one Mirasol Erin Morales echo across the multiverse.

300. Midnight

Another year, come and gone.

The city is still standing.

And it’s so, so nice to know they’re not alone.

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shesawriter39049 · 4 years ago

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|Breakdowns & Bugatti’s| M|

***** Headcanon’s for my OT7 AU*****

Genre: Rich Kid AU/ Drama/ Suspense/ Smut/ Angst

AU SUMMARY : The story of 8 heirs, who also happen to be the children of some of the most powerful, and well known political figures in The Big Apple! This is a candid look at all of the sex, lies, drama, scandals, couture and boujee affairs that are caught both on, but more importantly off camera!

OR: Gossip girl meet’s HTGAWM? Essentially if GG was on HBO, darker, and had more depth within it’s plot! Which is no shade, I love me some Gossip Girl, but realistically looking back a lot of the “Drama” wasn’t that...deep lol! But we still loved it all the same!

Note: The first chapter is called “The Kim’s of New York” So these headcanon’s are solely the Kim boys & the OC! ALSO, I just tried to find the most discrete gif for the Y/N there is NO ethnicity for ANY of my OC’s! Also, it’s set to be a OT7 intertwined plot but the smut with the OC will prob only be 3/4 members deep!

***The sneak peek for part 1 which is Namjoon X Reader will be linked***

~~~~~~~

Name: Namjoon Kim

Age: 21 Birth place: New York, New York

Current Residence: West Village, New York/ Songpa-Gu, Seoul Korea

Profession: Heir, College student, Entrepreneur, Art lover, Smartass, Heartbreaker (Closet fuck boi)

College: NYU (Incoming Junior)

Degree: Aiming for a Master’s in Journalism & Political communication. Endgame :Political Journalism

Preferred Degree: Opinion, Trade, or Art Journalism, or a Museum Curator (Namjoon actually anonymously runs a pretty popular art based travel blog)Namjoon also dabbles in that Soundcloud life making beats under an undisclosed name...however that’s just a hobby....so he says...

Business Type:....Co-owner/founder of an exclusive, invite only, dating service....do with that information what you will!

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?: LMAO….sure

Net Worth : 10 Figures

Dating Status : Closet Fuck Boi! Wait, is that not an option? Okay fine. He’s single...ish…Kinda? Well to be fair it depends on the time of day honestly! Is it a Sunday? Are we going to Brunch at Society Café? Or, is it Friday night and he’s going to the “Press Lounge”? More importantly is it election season and and does his father need him to not look like a hoe!? This is all crucial information, I need meticulousdetails honestly! So for the time being I guess I’ll have to pass on the question!

Aesthetic : Tom Ford X Hugo Boss X Valentino X Dior X Tommy Hilfiger = Couture Business Casual! I.E Namjoon always looks like he’s going to some business meeting with Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos! Even if it’s like...noon on a Saturday and your going on a day trip to Nappa...He’s still in calfskin loafers and a disrespectfully tight button up. Namjoon’s giving like...hot college professor PornHub realness...Yup His whole “Scholar Student” Aesthetic is a whole ass kink and baby boy knows it!

Political Tie: Father, Joshua Kim, New York Senator

Parents : Father : Joshua Kim, (New York Senator, son of Billionaire tech Tycoon Sang Woo Kim) Mother: Christine Kim : Luxury Event planner

Siblings : Only child

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal Daily : Matte Black Porsche 911/ Satin Red Ferrari 458/ Bugatti Veyron Matte red

Name: Seokjin Kim (Jin Kim)

Age: 23

Birth place: London, England

Current Residence: Upper Eastside, New York/ Chelsea London

Profession: Existing, Retired Editorial Model, Entrepreneur, Occasional influencer (When he feels like it) IE, the influencer that never really asked for the titile...he’s just rich and living his life! I mean let’s be real who isn't curious to see how the -1% lives?!

College: University of Oxford

Degree: Maybe he has a Master’s in Business...maybe he dropped out!

Preferred Degree: Culinary Arts...or honestly...just chillin...maybe eventually open his own modeling firm or something down the line!

Business Type:....Jin casually runs high stakes poker matches...and that’s all you need to know for right now….

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?:...Again...that’s all you need to know right now…

Net Worth : 10 Figures

Dating Status : Single, and not in the mood to entertain….unless you’ll like...walk yourself out after then maybe...Oh also it’s a requirement that you’re aware there’s more luxury brands than Gucci and Louis Vuitton. Show up in anything straight monogram and Jin’s going flaccid on command!

Aesthetic : Chanel X Dior X Cavalli X Dolce X Fendi = On Duty Runway Model! It truly doesn’t matter if he’s going to brunch, the movies, or sitting front row at Galliano! Jin always looks like he should be front row at Galliano! Whilst also effortlessly looking 10x’S pretter than half of the bitches in Manhattan even on his worst day! Androgyny at its finest, well Jin and Judge Parks son are kinda tied in that department!

Political Tie: Father, David Kim, Mayor’s Chief of Staff/ “Ghost” press secretary

Parents : Father : David Kim, (Retired Corporate Attorney, son of Billionaire Oil Tycoon Hyun-Son Kim) Mother: Lisa Kim, Co- owner of Hotel Shailla, daughter of Michael Lee, Millionaire Entrepreneur )

Siblings : Taehyung Kim (20), Hae Jin Kim (29) Deceased...( Allegedly)

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Honestly, Jin could give less than a damn

Daily : Matte Pink Aston Martin One, White Bugatti Chiron

Name: Taehyung Kim (Tae Kim)

Age: 20

Birth place: Rome, Italy

Current Residence: Cobble Hill, New York/ Pairs, France (When he’s not in school...or just on the weekends)

Profession: College student, Painter, Podcast Host, unwarranted fashion critique/ Stylist! Tae lowkey thinks his IG feed is the reprise of “Fashion Police” Joan Rivers bless rest her soul..she would’ve loved him!

College: Bernard (Sophomore)

Degree: Fine Arts (Painting/ Sculpture)

Preferred Degree: Exactly...what he’s doing...he enrolled at NYU for business. Lasted all of like...5 months before he dropped out!

Business Type:....Tae run’s a very...controversial late night Podcast appropriately titled “Tae unfiltered”! It wasn’t supposed to be a job, lord knows he doesn't need one...However due to the steady increase in his audience the youngest Kim is on track to ending up on Forbes without his inheritance.

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?:...Yup!

Net Worth: 10 Figures

Dating Status : Single, and more than ready to mingle, Tae essentially had the same girlfriend all throughout high school! The pair broke up maybe 7 months ago when she opted to go to college in London. So let’s just say he has a lot of making up to do and he’s very much….open to new experiences…

Aesthetic : Guicci X Gucci X Gucci X Gucci X Gucci = Gucci!? Nah, actually Tae, is fond of anything that doesn't...blend in...so Moschino, GCDS, Vetements, Kenzo, Balmain= If it lowkey looks like it could've been homemade...but it cost like bare minimum 4k! Or he just highkey looks exactly like you’d expect, like a very rich, art student who loves funky. abstract, unethical, clothing! Is he going to Coachella or to the farmers market? We may never know but that’s fine! He’s also young, and well aware that he’s fine as fuck, and that’s a whole ass problem! Tae may not have a ton of experience but he’s far from shy and more than down to learn...

Political Tie: Father, David Kim, Mayor’s Chief of Staff (Ghost press secretary)

Parents : Father : David Kim, (Retired Corporate Attorney, son of Billionaire Oil Tycoon Sang Tae Won Kim) Mother: Lisa Kim, Co- owner of Hotel Shailla, daughter of Michael Lee, Millionaire, Entrepreneur )

Siblings : Seokjin Kim (23), Hae Jin Kim (29) Deceased ( Allegedly)

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal AFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Daily : Lime Green Lamborghini Huracan/ Matte Grey Ferrari F60

Name: Yn/Ln

Age: 21

Birth Place: Paris, France

Current Residence: Upper East Side, New York/ Dubai

Profession:...Taking pictures, of both herself and other people, ugh...looking attractive? Does that count? Oh being well dressed...Self taught photographer, Fashion Blogger, Creative Director,Entrepreneur...

College: N/A ...Possible freshman at NYU or Bernard or, FIT for Photography & or Fashion

Degree: N/A... IF, she went it would be for Fine Arts/ Fashion degree for Creative Direction

Preferred Degree: Honestly, none, she lives and breathes fashion and due to her lifestyle Y/n already has the type of connections that up and coming photographers would die for! BUT...said college degree would shut her father up...so it’s a possibility! However, it’s not like he considers photography or being a fashion influencer a real job anyway...sooo she mideswell just not even bother!

Business Type:....Existing? Her main job is essentially...breathing...and occasionally taking pictures of other people! Oh, and herself as well, she get’s paid to post daily content! She runs a website called “MyJobIsToBeWellDressed” Co-owner of an exclusive invite only dating service!

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?: Yes and...(lmao)...for the first part, where her blog and all of that is concerned, yes...she’s 1099 the full nine! The other job however...................mmm... next question?

Net Worth: 10 Figures

Dating Status :YOLO

Aesthetic : 90’s Couture meet’s “House of Yes” @ 3 AM ( Back when luxury brands weren’t afraid to have fun and be a little risque) Chanel X Versace X Dolce X Prada X Gucci X Galliano = Well kept sugar baby??? Or every time you see her your literally like “Dude where the fuck are you even going!!??” Baby girl is always overdressed, she showed up to go on a doggy date through central park with Yoongi and Holly in 7 inch Louboutin’s sooo..we love that! Owns literally every vintage 90′s runway archive you can think of...If you’ve gagged over it on Pinterest it’s in Y/n’s closet. She’s smooth as all fuck...that’s for damn sure, radiating the perfect blend of BD and WAP energy....she’s a bad bitch and she knows it! Fuck the entire upper Eastside knows it!

Political Tie: Father, Christopher L/N, New York Senator

Parents: Father : Christopher L/N, (New York Senator, son of Billionaire Automotive Tycoon/ Real Estate Mogul Gregory L/N/ ) Mother: Ashley L/N, (luxury) Interior Designer & Daughter of Hotel Mogul Michael L/N

Siblings: Only child...maybe

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal

Daily : Matte Black Bugatti Divo / Satin Purple Lamborghini Murcielago/ Any car that any of her friends are driving because...fuck that, ridding shotty all day!

~~~~~~~~

There they are!!

The sneak peek is linked below...part 1 is Namjoon X Reader

However Jin and Tae are briefly introduced...and they will eventually have induvial chapters as well!

SNEAK PEEK

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thewildsophia · 4 years ago

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.Fun Sized. Clone High//Van Gogh x Reader

I have made another. Apologizes for spelling/grammar errors.

Van Gogh x Tall!Reader

Word Count: 3860

~~~~~~~~~~

There wasn’t anything you loved more than just lying in bed, Van Gogh pressed to your chest, his short arms wrapped around your neck. Your arms would always find their way around his waist with your chin resting on his head, his bandages scratching your neck. You especially loved the way he’d subconsciously press his face harder into your chest when he was asleep.

He’s simply small, and you love that about him. That, along with you being taller than average, makes it easy for you to cuddle with him.

Unfortunately, it was only 3rd period and you were currently stuck in English. Without him. But on the bright side, you got to see him next period in Painting II and then you’d have lunch with him.

Class ended and you were the first out of there. It only took a minute to get to the art classrooms, but you would often wait outside for Van Gogh since you knew he was coming down from the second floor to the first.

There was only a minute before class started and Van Gogh was nowhere to be seen, so you decided to go up and find him. You knew you’d probably be late to class but you didn’t really care. As you walked up the staircase to the tech wing, you overheard a conversation before you opened the door to the second floor.

Upon opening the door you’re met with a sight that absolutely enraged you. Pinned against the wall by JFK was Van Gogh, with a few other clones around watching it all unfold. This was one of the more secluded parts of the school so there weren’t any teachers around. You didn’t care to listen to what they were saying to him, you just walked to them, that anger from before boiling over. Van Gogh seemed to notice you approaching because he began to call out name before you cut him off.

“Y/-” You had turned and grabbed JFK by his collar, who let go of Van Gogh in the process, and pinned him against the wall. You were only a few inches shorter than him, but you were a lot stronger than you led people to believe. The other clones who were nearby had scurried off as soon as you had grabbed him.

“Kennedy.” You started, unable to help the sneer that formed on your lips. You felt Van Gogh’s hands grip at your waist, his cheek against your back.

“If I ever see you lay a finger on Van Gogh again, I will personally make sure you live up to your clone dad’s ‘legacy’.” You finished. You briefly glance behind you, your eyes meeting with Van Gogh’s. However, in that moment, JFK had managed to free his right hand and knocked you in the left side of the jaw. You let go of him, stumbling back a bit.

“Y/N!” You heard Van Gogh cry. He had already let go of you and back away a few steps.

“Like I said earlier, short stack,” JFK began, “You can’t stand up for yourself. You’re always having people fight for you.” You rubbed your jaw before turning towards JFK.

“You wanna go, Kennedy? Right here, right now, let’s go.” You said standing up fully.

“No, Y/N, leave it! Let’s just go.” You hear Van Gogh say to you, but you didn’t listen. No one gets the last hit on you. JFK turns towards you before saying,

“Oh, you’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanna fight you.”

He tries to hit you with a left hook, you quickly dogging it. You managed to punch him in the left side of his face before you grabbed the back of his neck, bending him forward and kneeing him in the stomach. You heard him cough before letting go of him and backing up. He remains hunched over a moment before quickly standing straight and grabbing you by the arm, punching you just left of your nose. You felt the blood begin to rush from it, but you didn’t care all that much. You returned the favor, punching his in the soft spot right under the jaw. He lets go of you and before he can do anything you bring your foot up and hit him.

Right in the balls.

It was a cheap shot, one you weren’t too proud of, but you needed to end that fight. He collapses to his knees a strangled noise leaving his throat as you turn back around to face Van Gogh.

He was stiff, eyes wide with his hands over his mouth. He reached out to you and you bent down to let him touch your cheek. You flinched at his touch and he pulled his hand away.

“Are you alright?” He whispered behind his hand, “Is he gonna be ok?” He asked looking behind you.

“He’ll be fine. At least I think so.” You said standing up and looking back. He was laying on the floor, holding his nuts. You wipe your nose, grimacing at the blood now on your hand.

“Hey, get to class, alright? I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” You said while walking towards him.

“No, let me help you.” He said taking your hand.

“It’s fine.” You said while walking down the staircase together. “It’ll take me a bit and I don't want you being later than you already are.” You said with a smile. Van Gogh frowned as you two stopped in front of the classroom.

“All right.” He said letting go of your hand.

“Hey, don’t get sad on me now.” You said kissing the top of his forehead, making sure not to get any blood on him. “I’ll be back.” And with that you left heading to the bathroom.

You washed your face, being mindful of your nose. You went to check it and thankful it wasn’t broken. You patted it dry with a paper towel, noticing the bruise that was starting to form on the left side of your jaw and base of your nose. You then checked your wrist and, sure enough, it was also beginning to bruise where he had grabbed you. You checked the time on your phone.

“Damn, I’ve been in here for 15 minutes?” You thought as you straightened out your outfit, checking for blood on it. Finding none you made your way to class. Just as you’re about to leave you realize that there’s only really 20 minutes left and that it would be better just to take an absence than a tardy. You didn’t want to get detention for being late.

You decided to just send a text to Van Gogh telling him you were okay and that you’d be waiting for him at the cafe. You then just worked on homework for the next 20 minutes while waiting for class to end.

20 minutes later and Van Gogh was one of the first people there. He looked around a moment before you waved to him. He quickly made his way over to you, sitting down and embracing you tightly while pressing his face into your chest.

“God, why would you do that? What were you thinking?” He said, muffled by your shirt. He pulled back, still holding your hand, and that’s when you noticed the tears that were threatening to fall. “I was so worried about you.” He said, his voice wavering a bit at the end.

You stared at him for a moment, E/C eyes meeting light blue ones with a frown etched on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You said looking away from him. “It just-It bothers me, okay? It bothers me that people can make fun of you like it’s the best thing ever.” You bit your lip, squeezing his hand a little tighter before continuing.

“I just…really like you, and I hate it when people make fun of you when they think they can get away with it.” You admitted.

“Y/N…” he whispered. You looked over at him and saw him motioning for you to bend down for him. You did and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, being mindful of the bruise there.

“You don’t have to do this for me. I’m not worth all this trouble.” He said, his voice trailing off as he spoke.

“That’s not true!” You said sitting up straight and pressing his head against your chest. “You’re worth anything and everything. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.” You look down at him, his cheek still smushed against you. You smiled, “You mean a lot to me, and I don’t mind doing this for you.”

You let go of him, stroking his cheek as he pulled back. He smiled while placing his hand over top of your’s.

“I…Thank you, Y/N.” Although it hurt, you smiled as that all too familiar feeling tightened in your chest.

“Hold on.” Van Gogh said while pulling away from you. He grabbed his lunch bag and from it he pulled out an ice pack, handing it to you.

“Thank you, love.” You said while pressing it against your cheek. It stung for a moment before the coolness began to soothe your aching jaw.

“You know, you really should see the nurse. He’ll probably be able to give you some pain killers.” Van Gogh said while pulling out his lunch.

“Yeah, but then he’ll start asking questions like ‘Who did this to you?’ and ‘When and where did this happen?’. Which are questions I really want to avoid answering.” You said while mocking the nurse’s voice.

“Alright, but eat something before we have to go.” He said while taking a bit of his oatmeal.

“Nah.” You said, “It’ll hurt to eat, all I have are solid foods.” He sighs.

“Want to trade?” He asks, beginning to slide his furnace of oatmeal towards you.

“Sure, I brought your favorite.” You said with a smirk as you pulled a bag of roasted chestnuts out and slid your lunch bag over to him. You made sure you always had a bag of them since you knew he enjoyed them a lot. They were one of the only things he ate, along with bread, butter, and coffee.

“Ooooo give me!” He said snatching the bag from you. You chuckled as you watched him eat. It was always nice knowing that he was eating.

You picked up the spoon and started eating yourself when a familiar group of students walked over to join you; Abe, Joan and Gandhi.

Abe seemed like such a scumbag to you. He acts like he cares about a girl’s personality when it comes to dating them, but really, he mainly cares about how they look.

You and Joan were actually pretty cool with each other. You’ve had some really nice conversations with her, some casual and others more serious. She was actually the one to convince you to join the team crisis hotline, which is where you met Van Gogh.

You’d have to thank her for that sometime.

And Gandhi…Don’t even get you started on Gandhi. You absolutely hated the stunt he pulled that night with Van Gogh when he was “drunk.” Sure, he ended up apologizing for it, but it was still a shitty thing to do to someone who was trying to get help.

It seemed that Van Gogh felt the same way that you did since you saw him give Gandhi a glare as he sat down, one that Gandhi clearly didn’t see.

“What brings you three here?” You ask. Joan was the first to speak.

“We saw what you did to JFK. That…was you right?” She asked.

“Maybe. What of it?” You replied.

“Well, I just wanted to see if you were alright, make sure he didn’t beat up on you too much-” Joan says before being cut off by Abe.

“Yeah. And thanks for beating the crap out of him. Someone had to put him in his place.” He says. You watch as he raises his hand for a high five and you just stare at it for a second before returning to eating the oatmeal.

“I didn’t do it for you.” You said between bites, “I did it for Van Gogh.”

“Jeez, what’s with you two. You got a crush on him or something?” Gandhi asks…loudly. A few people had turned and looked at you two before you glared at him, making him calm down a bit. You moved your hand over to Van Gogh’s under the table.

“Well,” Joan started while getting up, “Text me if you need help taking care of those bruises. And try to stay out of fights, Y/N.” The other two follow her as she turns around.

“Can do, Captain Ark.” You said with a mock salute. She smiles before walking away, Abe and Gandhi following her.

You and Van Gogh continue eating, the bell ringing soon after the two of you finished. You swapped bags again before leaving. Before you left his side, however, Van Gogh stopped you.

“Hey, stop by my dorm sometime this afternoon or evening. After you finish your work.” He asks. You agree before leaving to go to 6th period.

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

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful with you simply going to your afternoon classes. The closer you got to the end of the day the more stares you got from people. Was the bruising really getting that bad?

On your way out of the school and to your dorm yo stopped by the bathroom to check your injuries.

Yikes. Those did not come out so pretty.

The one your jaw had formed into a mass of black and dark purple that consumed the entire lower half of your left jaw. Your nose made it look like you had been hit in the face by the butt of a rifle (A/N: that’s happened to me and I genuinely thought it had broken my nose, but thankfully it didn’t). Your wrist wasn’t too bad, although it hurt like hell to flex your hand.

You left the bathroom and quickly headed to your dorm to finish your work for the day. You had already finished some of it during lunch so it didn’t take as long normally. You had finished within three hours, all the while icing your injuries, changed and made you way over to Van Gogh’s dorm room. You had brought over some Morrocan stew, a vegetarian one of course, you made last night and rye bread for him.

You knocked on his door before he answered. His eyes widened with a frown on his face and didn’t greet you, simply moving aside to let you in.

“Hey,” You said, “I brought you dinner.” You held up the bag for him to see.

“Thanks just…leave it on my desk.” He says gesturing to his desk and sitting on his bed. You set the bag down and look at him. He looks terrible; the orange-red hair that was visible was a mess, his face flush and eyes somewhat red. You frowned as you pieced things together.

“What’s wrong?” You asked while sitting next to him on the bed. You noticed the way he slightly shifted away from you.You frown as you wait for him to answer.

His mouth opens a few times with nothing coming out and he makes a few strange faces before saying,

“Do you think I’m…short?” He asks and you look at him for a moment.

“I mean,” He continues, “I know I’m ‘short’, but do you think I’m short?” You eyebrows knit in confusion before you asked,

“Why do you ask?”

“Answer me.” He said firmly. You stared at him a moment, his gaze never meeting yours.

“No, I don’t think you’re short.” You answer him, “Now answer me. Why are you asking?” You saw him tense before sighing.

“It’s just…the conversation with JFK I had earlier,” He started and you felt your face grow warm with anger, “He said that you only hang around me because you felt bad for me, and that-that you stand up for me because you know I can’t stand up for myself.” He finished, his voice cracking at the end. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you could still see the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I guess he’s right.” He whispered while gripping the sheets, “Just look at what happened to you. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have to always get me out of trouble.”

“Vincent,” You whispered, “Look at me.” He reluctantly looked over at you, face flush with tears. You quickly grabbed him, pressing him into the bed with a surprised noise escaping his lips. You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, let anyone make you believe those kinds of things about yourself, do you hear me? You mean so much to me and you have no idea how much I love you.” You said, your face only mere inches away from his. “Do you understand? Don’t let anyone mess with your confidence like that.” Your jaw hurt from talking so much.

You saw him smile, his eyes beginning to water again. You brushed your hand through his hair, bending down to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N. That really means a lot to me.” Van Gogh whispered. You could taste the saltiness of his tears on your lips when you pulled away from him.

You got off of him, letting him sit up on the bed. You pulled him into your lap, your chin resting on his head -- being mindful of your jaw -- and arms wrapped around his torso. You gently rocked him in your lap, whispering comforts to him. His face was pressed almost painfully into your chest but you didn’t mind. After a few minutes you asked him,

“Are you feeling better now?” That warm, all consuming, feeling began to well up in your chest when he pulled away, a smile present.

“Yeah. A lot better actually.” He said.

“Good. So if you wouldn’t mind…” You began, sliding him off of your lap, “I’m going to go heat up dinner for you.” You said grabbing the bag and heading over to his kitchen area.

“Do you still have work you need to do?” You ask while reheating the stew. While that was heating up you started cutting the bread.

“Yeah, but not much. It can wait.” He said while trying to look into the pot on the stove, “Ooo, is that rye?” He asks when his eyes drifted over to what you were cutting.

“Yes, and if you don’t have a lot of work left then just finish it now while this heats up.” You said, gently pushing him out. He pouts before going off to do his work.

10 minutes later and you were done preparing everything. You fixed a bowl of stew and bread for Van Gogh before heading over to him. He didn’t seem to notice you approaching him because he flinched when you placed the bowl to his right.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” He says while grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it in the stew, “Thank you, liefde.*” You smiled before walking back into the kitchen to get yourself some.

The two of you ate in relative silence since he was still working. When he had finished he walked into the kitchen, placed his dishes in the sink and sat down with you. He handed an ice pack to you, which you quickly accepted.

“You’re a really good cook, you know that?” He says with a smile.

“You are too, when you choose to cook.” You said with a chuckle. Van Gogh checked the time while you continued to eat.

“It’s almost 10, did you want to stay here tonight?” He asked looking back at you.

“Only if you’re okay with it.” You say getting up and placing your bowl in the sink. You put the ice pack back in the freezer.

“Of course.” You hear him say behind you. You and him both walked back over to the bedroom, grabbing something to change into.

You have a small, plastic storage container in the corner of Van Gogh’s room that had a few pairs of clothing. Van Gogh has the same thing in your room too. You go into the bathroom to change, Van Gogh simply changing in his room. You knock on the door to tell him you’re coming out before exiting the bathroom wearing your night clothes. It wasn’t much; just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Van Gogh wore much of the same, although opting for long sleeves and pants instead.

He quickly crawled into bed and motioned for you to join him.

“Let me put my clothes away first.” You said with a smile and a chuckle. Even in the dark you saw his pout and crossed arms as you made your way to the corner of the room. After putting your clothes away you made your way to the bed. You weren’t even half way under the covers when you heard him say,

“Come on,” While scooting closer to you, “Hold me!” He whined as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. You look at him for a moment in the dark before crossing your arms saying,

“You know what? No, I won’t hold you.” You turned your chin up and looked away from him. You heard him fake gasp and you couldn’t help the smile that creeped its way onto your face.

“Well! I can’t believe it. All this time I thought you loved me.” He said in mock sadness. “I suppose I was a fool to think you’d love me.”

You slowly turn your head to look at him before giggling and grabbing him from behind. You heard him laugh and my God that laugh was perfect. Lighthearted and full of joy and everything about it made you smile and laugh yourself.

His laughter died down when he felt you wrap your arms around him tighter, curling around him from behind. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck as you breathed in the scent of his soft, orange hair. He shifted in your arms slightly but didn’t try to pull away. Not like he wanted to; he loved being the little spoon with you.

“Ow, careful of my wrist.” You whispered when he moved a little too much.

“Sorry.” He apologized.

It was quiet for a while, and for a moment it seemed like one of you would fall asleep; but right before one of you did you spoke up.

“Vincent,” You whispered.

“Yeah?” He answered after a moment.

“You’re not short,” You tell him, “And if JFK, or anyone for that matter, tells you otherwise I want you to tell them this.” You pause.

“Tell them what?” He asks.

“Tell them,” You begin, “‘I’m not short, I’m fun sized.’”

Although you couldn’t see it, Van Gogh’s face lit up with that gorgeous peach color as a smile graced his features.

“I will.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Liefde” - “Love” (Dutch)

#clonehigh #clone high #clone high van gogh #vincent van gogh #clone high vincent van gogh #van gogh x reader #clone high x reader #vincent van gogh x reader #clone high van gogh x reader #thewildsophia writes

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mossy-covered-bones · 4 years ago

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Loveable Geeks

Part 1

(AO3)

Started this idea forever and a half ago, I finally got around to finishing the first chapter, here’s to finishing my diving off point I’llstart working on the second part tomorrow

“And you’ll let me know if it gets too much and you want to leave?”

Virgil shrugged. “Sure, whatever. I’ll be fine.” He planted a kiss on Roman’s temple. “Now c’mon, let’s go hang out with your theater geek friends.”

Roman’s cheeks flushed, and he pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek before hopping out of the car.

Virgil chuckled fondly, getting out and trailing after Roman, who was already ringing the doorbell. The teen was bouncing on his heels as he waited for someone to answer the door, full of energy as always.

Whose house was this again? Virgil had driven them here, but he couldn’t remember which of the other theater kids was hosting the party. Was it Emily? Johnathyn? Oliver?

The person who answered the door was an absolute stranger to Virgil, but Roman seemed to recognize them by the way his face lit up.

“Hey there, Dee!”

“Ah, Roman. Come on in. Who’s your plus one?”

Roman twined his fingers with Virgil, pulling him inside. “This is my beloved, the light of my life, my Prince Charming, the one whom I—“

“You can just call me Virgil. He/him.”

The stranger let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Janus. Some of my friends call me Dee. He/him or ze/zem.”

Roman tugged on Virgil's hand again. “Talk to you in a bit, Dee, I’ve got to find Joan. Virgil, will you be fine on your own?”

“Yeah, go hang out with your friends, I’ll manage,” he responded, squeezing Roman’s hand before his boyfriend left to find his friend.

“You two are cute together,” Janus remarked, bumping the door shut with zyr foot. “How long have you been dating?”

Virgil shrugged, curling himself into his jacket. He still had to glance down to meet Janus’ eyes. “A few months, I guess? Sometime last semester.”

“Are you also in theater, then?”

“Nah, I sometimes help out with sets or stagework, but nothing huge. I’m really just here because Roman can’t drive, and I’m friends with a few people here.”

Virgil cleared his throat, casually switching the topic. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the club before, did you join this year?”

Janus nodded. “We moved here recently. I participated in theater at my old school, though, so I have experience acting.”

Virgil hummed a noncommittal noise, looking away. This was… uncomfortable. Janus wasn’t looking at him, probably thinking up an excuse to slip away to where the other teens were talking.

“Hey, uh, can I use your restroom?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Janus told him.

Virgil muttered a quick thank you, ducking his head into his jacket and hurrying away from the awkward atmosphere as fast as he could without seeming rude.

Most of the club had gathered in the living room while Virgil had been in the bathroom, and he could hear them talking over which production they wanted to do this year.

“--haven’t done anything by Shakespeare in a while, why not Romeo and Juliet, or Othello?”

“We did Mac-- uh, the Scottish Play two years ago, that was pretty recent.”

“Two years isn’t recent at all!”

“We could do a nonclassic next semester, why don’t we just pick something people know for this fall? We haven’t put Romeo and Juliet on in the past four years and that's practically a staple.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun to do, why not?”

“Almost every High School puts it on, and it’s not too complicated. We’ve got more new kids than last year, it’ll give them something simple.”

Virgil peered around the corner at the group, all huddled on and around the two couches, Joan and a Senior--Angie, if he remembered right--standing in front of everyone. He caught sight of Roman fairly quickly, sitting at the end of one of the couches, whispering something to Janus, who was next to him, perched on the arm of the couch. Ze chuckled, muttering something back that made Roman’s face light up, and he waved his hand in the air to get Angie’s attention. Virgil didn’t miss the red that dusted Roman’s cheeks.

Swallowing, Virgil ducked back into the hallway, out of sight from the kids in the other room.

He… shouldn’t be worried, really, but some small part of his brain kept pointing out all the bad things about him, all the things about Janus that were probably just better. Janus was actually in theater, they already had that one huge part of Roman’s life in common. And, well… Janus was definitely more attractive than Virgil. Not that it was that high a standard, with his messy hair and smudged makeup and too-tall, too-wide build. Virgil was too anxious and high maintenance to be worth the trouble, and… and…

He stopped the train of thought there, rubbing at his eyes with shaky hands. Probably smearing his makeup even more than usual. Gods, Virgil probably looked like a mess.

He took a few deep breaths before stepping around the corner, still unsteady hands shoved into his pockets. Janus looked over—back straight, shirt smooth and unwrinkled, hands clasped in his lap—and smiled politely, tapping Roman on the shoulder.

Roman glanced up at Janus, then over his shoulder at Virgil, and his smile positively glowed, the troupe’s discussion forgotten as he scrambled out of his seat, nearly tripping over himself to get to Virgil.

Virgil couldn’t help but melt as the warmth of Roman’s attention turned to him, and he let his boyfriend lead him to the couch. They sat down, Roman’s fingers entwining with Virgil’s, the smaller boy pressed into his side as his eyes turned back to Joan and Angie, that radiant smile still lingering on Roman’s lips every time he glanced back at Virgil.

Virgil’s fears were pushed to the side, too entranced by that smile to think about his own shortcomings.

Perhaps Roman’s endless confidence had started rubbing off on him, if he could set aside his worries so quickly.

Virgil squeezed Roman’s hand, watching him out of the corner of his eye, idly listening to the group debate over which play to put on that semester.

@heckinsnekboi @definitely-a-living-human @genesiscaveat @a-ghostlight-for-roman @astrozei @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #roman sanders #Virgil sanders #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #Human Au #highschool au #loveable geeks #janus sanders #ts Roman #ts virgil #ts Janus

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inkribbon796 · 4 years ago

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The Bee ‘n Boo Ch. 2: Spider Legs and Bumble Bees

Summary: Virgil is uneasy so he goes wandering the halls again, and finds nothing but trouble.

Chapters: 1, 2

The conversation with Logan sat wrong with Virgil and surprise, surprise he was having problems sleeping on this vacation as a result.

After a couple days he finally had enough. It was obvious the owners were watching them closely. Clearly looking for something from them.

Virgil decided he didn’t like the owners of this bed and breakfast, he really didn’t. It didn’t help that usually when he got an impression of someone he was typically right. So he started wandering the halls on their last night, unsure if he wanted to track one of the owners down.

He didn’t have to decide what he wanted to do for himself because one of the owners found him in a hallway.

The first hint he was being followed was the sound of a low buzzing, Virgil’s mind immediately recognized it as a bee or wasp buzzing. He looked around for the sound and saw Tubbo standing down the hall behind him, a single bee flying around him.

“Normally I don’t care if our patrons walk around the halls,” Tubbo sighed. “But I make a special exception for demon clientele, especially when Dream takes an interest in them.”

“I’m not a demon, I’ve been tested,” Virgil defended tersely.

“Yeah,” Tubbo scoffed at that. “Bet you have.”

The buzzing pitched dangerously and Virgil braced for an attack but Tubbo turned to glance behind him.

“Fuck, did you call for some type ‘a[1] backup?” Tubbo demanded angrily.

“No,” Virgil shot back, feeling nervous and looking around.

Tubbo whispered something into his hand and magic coiled around his hand, words visibly etched into the magic that read: “Ranboo, get over here!” and blew the magic out of the palm of his hand and it flew down the hall.

Then Tubbo looked around as he summoned a sword that had a blue and violet glow to it. He was looking around the hall as Virgil coiled magic towards him. He was inwardly cursing and chastising himself for coming alone. It had been a stupid decision he kept making.

“Underscore,” someone on Virgil’s side of the hallways came out, it was a legionnaire. That legionnaire froze when he saw Virgil. “Shit! You! Of course you’re working with them.”

Spurred on by his mounting anxiety, Virgil’s spider legs sprouted and he realized he was trapped between someone who was absolutely threatening, and someone who was vaguely threatening.

There was a crash of glass underneath Virgil and he looked down to see the effects of a potion waft up and Virgil felt his entire body charged with power.

Tubbo slid underneath Virgil and the anxious Side startled back.

“I thought I said we didn’t want any ‘a[1] you shitheads back in here,” Tubbo spat.

“Tubbo!” Ranboo’s voice called out to them as the legionnaire began to move towards them.

“There were already too many demons before you freaks got here,” the hunter spat.

“Back up,” Tubbo ordered Virgil.

“Boo!” Tubbo called out as the taller young man raced around the corner and over to help, deep purple magic buzzing around him.

“⎅⎍☊☍!”[2] Ranboo shouted as his eyes glowed a deep purple, his more human appearance almost decaying away to show that half of his face was black and the other side was bone white, long pointed horns coming from his forehead.

Tubbo dropped to the ground as a huge, purple pixelated portal appeared right in front of the assailant who seemed caught in it and then Ranboo closed the portal and the man disappeared. Magic shot perfectly in-between Virgil and Tubbo.

Ranboo was shaking and breathing heavily as purple magic buzzed around him.

“Nice timin’[3], bossman,” Tubbo smiled, getting up.

“Did you just kill him?” Virgil looked between them in horror.

“Prolly should’a,”[4] Tubbo scoffed as Ranboo returned to his more human appearance and walked over to stand next to him. “If Ranboo hadn’t showed up I would’a[5].”

Virgil saw the hardened look in Tubbo’s eyes and he immediately believed him.

“Nah, I can’t kill people with my portals, only send them somewhere else. Depends on how fast they’re going though.” Ranboo then turned and groaned at Tubbo. “Come on man, we just got this place, I don’t wanna[6] have to bail you out and have to deal with the bad press by myself.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Tubbo shrugged.

Ranboo looked like he wanted to say something but he just huffed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, big guy,” Tubbo smiled and patted his arm. “I got this now, just go and rest.”

“I don’t think I can sleep after that,” Ranboo commented. “Gonna go get started on that mountain of paperwork.”

“Be in there soon,” Tubbo promised and Ranboo nodded before walking away.

Tubbo turned to smile at Virgil, “Not too shabby,[7] you did pretty good.”

“It was just the one, and you two did all the work,” Virgil smiled bashfully, looking around the hallway to see if he’d done any damage. His spider legs slowly disappeared. “Sorry if I did any damage.”

“Nahhh, it’s all good, big guy,” Tubbo dismissed. “Least I can do. Like I said before, you’re still a payin’[8] customer and I don’t let people get away with shit in my establishment. If we meet outside and you’ve already turned in your keys, then it’ll be different. But right now you’re here.”

“Why help us?” Virgil asked. “Seems like a lot of work to go through for your enemies. Aren’t we the bad guys to you?”

Tubbo shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t think good and bad people actually exist. It all depends on what side you’re on. Initially I was just plannin’[9] on raisin’[10] the alarm when I saw you, but then you said you liked my bees and you were really genuine about the whole thing—”

“Uh, that was Lo,” Virgil interrupted, before immediately starting to backpedal when he saw the confusion on Tubbo’s face. “Uhhh, I mean the bees are fine. They’re, uh, great. But I’m more of a spider-type guy. Not that the bees aren’t cool, I mean— not cool, who says “cool” unironically anymore? Ignore me, I’m rambling.”

The reason Virgil had started rambling was because Tubbo’s expression turned from confusion to a look of absolute horror. When Virgil stopped there was a grim silence between them.

“Holy shit,” Tubbo whispered, his tone tense. “Are you conscious in there?”

Virgil stood up, trying to put distance between them. “Umm, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Tubbo tried to lean up, as if looking for something in Virgil’s face, which only made Virgil even more nervous. “That’s fuckin’[11] demented. How alive are you? I thought you guys were like cardboard cut-outs of real people, but you’re actually alive?”

He was right in Virgil’s personal space, the only thing keeping him from being directly within biting range was the fact that Virgil was taller than him.

“Maybe I should go back to my room,” Virgil backed up.

Tubbo glared at him before he backed up, his expression guarded. “I guess you should, shouldn’t you?”

Then Tubbo left and hurried back up to his room. The other Sides were still thankfully asleep but something in Virgil couldn’t sleep that night, he stayed up the whole time staring at his ceiling.

They left the next day, Virgil sleeping in fitful bursts and starts in the car and everyone was asking if he was okay when he woke back.

Tubbo’s words stuck with Virgil like an insidious disease. He’d been mind controlled before. The anxious Side hadn’t liked it then and didn’t think he ever would. A question lodged so deep in his mind that he didn’t think he’d ever get it out: how would you know if someone controlled your mind?

The anxious Side lies that he was and was only just starting to calm down when they got to the house. He wanted to sleep under his weighted blanket and forget everything.

But then he felt a twinge of unease when Logan walked in, spiking Virgil’s innate anxiety back up.

It took Logan a little bit to realize what was wrong: Someone had been through their house! If it had been one or two things he would have chalked it up to Joan, but there was furniture that was ever so slightly moved.

Immediately the logical Side conveyed it to the other Core Sides and they contacted Joan who had been house sitting for them, and Janus to check if Remus had broken in again.

Remus hadn’t, but Joan said that something had been in their house and they had it under control. So with barely having time to start unpacking and sorting out dirty clothes, the suitcases were left in various rooms as they rushed back to the base where Nate, King, the androids, and several different heroes were waiting for them.

Logan however, threw up an arm to protect the other Sides when he saw what King had in his possession.

King was sitting in a chair, an old camera bound with spells propped on his knee and something in Logan twisted in rage and apprehension.

“I think it’s time we had that talk,” Nate warned Logan, his magic hovering over the camera.

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

Post A/N: Tubbo’s magical familiar is a bee, I will not be convinced otherwise.

Accessibility Translations:

1. of

2. Duck!

3. timing

4. Probably should have

5. would have

6. want to

7. bad

8. paying

9. planning

10. raising

11. fucking

#superhero au #masks and maladies #dream smp #footnotes #virgil sanders #logan sanders #tubbo #Ranboo #roman sanders #patton sanders #LAMP #bee n boo #it’s time for Virgil’s existential crisis hour #the Sides are in trouble #magic #bamf Tubbo #bamf Tubbo supremacy

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

Text

Smoke and Mirrors

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the energetic, enthusiastic, and confident third Flash

Iris Allen, the wife of Barry Allen and a daredevil reporter

Mirror Master, alias Sam Scudder, a talented inventor and the de facto second-in-command of the Rogues

The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant elitist who is suffering from a mysterious disease

Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, a rather dimwitted thief with an obscenely powerful weapon, the weather wand

The Trickster, alias James Jesse, a charming con man with no fashion sense

Script

Act I

(Enter Wally West and Iris Allen, who has just arrived to the Flash Airport of Central City)

Wally: Hi, Aunt Iris! How have you been? It’s so nice to have you back!

Iris: Hi, Wally. It’s good to be back. How’s your Uncle Barry been?

Wally: He’s been great. Really slow since he lost his super speed, of course, but otherwise, he’s fine. He even took down the Trickster all by himself!

Iris: I heard. It made a great story. (Pause) How have he and Bart been doing since I went on my trip?

Wally: Bart’s still really impulsive, and he scared Uncle Barry half to death when he ran to New York City and watched an off-off-Broadway show without telling anyone, but overall he’s been doing great. Uncle Barry enrolled him in sixth grade and he’s become friends with this girl named Carol and this boy named Preston, and he’s finally kind of adjusting to life outside the speed force. He’s still not crazy about Irey and Jai, though-he thinks they’re annoying tagalongs. Oh, and he discovered anchovy pizza for the first time, and, for some reason, he loves it! He’s eaten 45 slices in the past two days, and Uncle Barry says that he thinks he’ll single-handedly keep the neighborhood pizza place in business. (Pause) How was your trip?

Iris: I loved it! There’s nothing quite like the thrill of investigating the government of Kandaq.

Wally: But isn’t Kandaq led by Black Adam?

Iris: Yes. That’s why it was so much fun to investigate what he’s been up to! Before I did some snooping around, no one knew what he was doing because everyone was too scared to check, so I was able to write the biggest exposé of my career and take down a supervillain at the same time. It was awesome! I even got to interview Captain Marvel after he rescued me from Black Adam.

Wally: No wonder you won a Pulitzer. (Pause) So, besides risking your life, did you do anything else in Kandaq? I’ve heard it has delicious food.

Iris: (Laughs) Of course you would focus on the food.

Wally: Well, is it as good as Dick told me?

Iris: Actually, yes. The spices in particular are delicious-and unique to the country, too!

Wally: I’ll be right back. (Wally exits, then rapidly re-enters) That was delicious!

Iris: That’s my Wally. (Pause) And to finish answering your question, besides eating and investigating, I did a lot of sightseeing and even more souvenir-buying.

Wally: Sounds fun!

Iris: It was. (Pause) And in speaking of souvenirs….. (Pulls t-shirt out of bag) This is for you.

Wally: (takes shirt, reads) “I stood in the presence of the all-powerful Black Adam and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” (Laughs) Thanks, Aunt Iris! I love it!

Iris: I thought you might. I also got a doll of Isis for Irey, a book on Kandaq’s history for Jai, a longer book on the same subject for your Uncle Barry, a necklace for Linda, a fan for Joan, a scrapbook for Jay, and Captain Marvel’s signature and promise to visit our house for Bart.

Wally: Sweet! (Pause) Do you have all your bags?

Iris: Yes, I do.

Wally: Then let’s get you home! (Pause, then in “official” voice) The West Delivery Service will get you there in three seconds, or your money back!

Iris: (Laughs) Definitely my Wally.

(Both Exit)

Act II

(Top is onstage, sitting at table and talking on the phone)

Top: (on the phone) Greetings, my darling. How are you? (Pause) Excellent. I’m glad to hear it. How fares the mission? (Pause) What sort of complications? You know as well as I do that I haven’t much time. If you do not find a cure soon, my powers will quite literally be the death of me. We do not have time for failure! (Pause) I’m sorry, honeybunch. I did not mean to snap at you. I am simply anxious. Even I cannot come out on top in a battle with the grave. (Pause) Of course I trust you, sweetums. Remember though, my darling, if my calculations are correct, I only have a month left. We must get the cure! (Pause) Well that, at least, is good news. If Allen likes you, it will not be long before he is willing to trust you enough to help you find the cure. (Pause) I love you, dearest. Farewell. (Puts phone away and puts on earmuffs) And now to enjoy my meal in peace.

(Enter Trickster, Mirror Master, and Weather Wizard)

Weather Wizard: So, how’d you guys find me?

Trickster: It’s simple, Wiz! We followed the reports of snowstorms in July.

Mirror Master: You aren’t exactly subtle, Mardon.

Weather Wizard: Fair enough. I guess being able to control the weather doesn’t leave much room for subtlety. (Pause) So, what do you two want?

Mirror Master: Your help. If there’s anyone who can keep the Flash away from our heists, it’s you. You’re more powerful than all of us-even me.

Weather Wizard: I know.

Trickster: And you’re modest, too.

Weather Wizard: Hey, if you could control the weather with a flick of the wrist, you’d be a little arrogant, too.

Trickster: Fair enough. (Pause) Say, last I heard, your wand was busted. How’d you get it working again?

Weather Wizard: (Defensively) None of your business. I just did, okay?

Trickster: (Suspiciously) Oh, really? Then let me see the wand.

Weather Wizard: No! You can’t touch it!

Trickster: Why not?

Weather Wizard: Because it’s mine, and you aren’t gonna touch it!

Trickster: (Grabs wand) Too late! I already have it!

Weather Wizard: Give it back! (Tries to grab wand, but fails and falls on his face)

Trickster: All right, Mr. Weather Wand. Make it rain! Bippity boppity boo! (Waves wand, nothing happens) That’s funny. I thought you said you fixed the wand, Wiz.

Weather Wizard: (Gets to his feet and grabs the wand back) Okay, so I exaggerated about being able to fix it. I’ve used the weather wand long enough that I was able to do a patch job and get it to make some snow, but it’s pretty much useless for any other form of weather. I can’t even make it whip up a decent blizzard!

Mirror Master: All you can make is snow? (Trickster notices the Top)

Weather Wizard: (Weakly) Yeah.

Mirror Master: Well, that’s just great. Here I was thinking that we had tornadoes, lighting, and hail on our side, and all we have is a glorified snow machine! (Pause) And when were you planning on mentioning the fact that you can’t make anything but snow, anyway? When the Flash showed up to take us to jail?

Weather Wizard: Well, to be honest, I hadn’t really thought out that far. I was trying to save face, not come up with a battle plan.

Mirror Master: (Despondently) There goes my Ferrari.

Trickster: Don’t give up on the Ferrari just yet, Sam! I have a way to salvage our heist!

Mirror Master: James, I already told you. I am not going to use a “whoopie cushion of doom” to stop the Flash. Unlike you, I have some dignity.

Trickster: First, the Whoopie Cushion of Doom is high comedy, and you should be honored that I offered to let you use it. Second, that’s not it.

Mirror Master: Then what is it?

Trickster: It’s the Top! He’s sitting right over there! (Points to Top)

Mirror Master: (Surprised) So he is.

Weather Wizard: What’s he doing here? I thought he and Golden Glider were in Hawaii on the fifth anniversary of their first date or something.

Mirror Master: Who knows with those two. Maybe they came home early.

Trickster: Came home early ? They never went ! They’ve been in Central City this whole time!

Weather Wizard: They have? But then why did they tell everyone that they were on vacation?

Mirror Master: Probably so they could spend time together without Captain Cold breathing down their necks. Given how overprotective he is, if I was dating Lisa, I would probably pretend to be out of the city, too. It’s hard to have romantic moments when you know that her big brother’s watching and will maim you if you look at her funny.

Trickster: Nah, that’s not it. If Roscoe was afraid of Captain Cold, he wouldn’t challenge his authority all the time. I think they’re planning something, something they want to keep secret from the rest of us, and I want to find out what it is. (Taps Top on shoulder) Hiya, Top!

Top: (Takes off earmuffs; Aside) Why me? (To Trickster) What do you want?

Trickster: Well, Mirror Master wants a Ferrari, and I want some excitement, so we need your help to rob the jewelry store on Fifth and Main.

Top: I am afraid that you will be disappointed. I am quite busy, and am being pressed to the top of my bent. I have no time for frivolities, Giovanni.

Weather Wizard: Giovanni? Who’s Giovanni?

Trickster: Me.

Mirror Master: You gave the Top an alias when he asked for your real name?

Trickster: (“Offended”) No! I’d never do anything like that! (Pause) I didn’t give him an alias when he asked for my real name. I gave you two an alias!

Weather Wizard: Your real name’s Giovanni?

Trickster: Yep! Giovanni Giuseppi. My family is Italian.

Mirror Master: Then why do you always go by James Jesse?

Trickster: Because Jesse was our family’s stage name from the circus. Since we used an alias in our performances, I got used to being called James, so I eventually decided to just start using it as my regular name. Besides, it’s easier to say than Giovanni Giuseppi.

Mirror Master: Well, whoever you are, clearly, your plan failed. Dillon doesn’t want to get involved in our plan, and so it’ll be a bust.

Trickster: (Aside) Oh, ye of little faith. (To Mirror Master) I’ll be able to get him to come around. Trust me.

Mirror Master: Forgive me if I’m less than convinced. (Trickster walks over to Top)

Trickster: (To Top) What if I told you that there would be something in it for you?

Top: I would still refuse. As I already told you, I am quite preoccupied. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going home.

Trickster: (Stopping Top) Top, old buddy, just hear me out. If you don’t like it, I promise you can leave, but you’ve gotta at least learn what it is.

Top: We are not “old buddies”, but, since you seem determined to annoy me until I listen to what you have to say, I suppose I will give in to the inevitable and allow you to speak. But be quick about it. I am giving you five minutes- tops .

Trickster: You know what? Never mind. It was silly of me to think you would be motivated by something as small as an engagement ring. (Moves out of Top’s way; To Mirror Master and Weather Wizard) Come on, guys, let’s go. I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something else.

Top: What was that about an engagement ring?

Trickster: Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in it, I’m sure.

Top: You are mistaken. Do tell me what you think I will get out of this heist.

Trickster: Are you sure? If you really are busy, I don’t want to bother you.

Top: No, no. I am fine. Please, tell me what you mean.

Trickster: Well, if you insist…..A few months ago, Lisa told me that she saw the perfect engagement ring at the jewelry store that we’re planning to rob, and that she would be thrilled if you proposed to her with it. But like I said, if you don’t want to help us….

Top: (Quickly) If it will please Lisa, I would very much like to help ensure that you come out on top .

Trickster: Great! Glad to have you aboard, pal!

Mirror Master: (Draws Trickster aside) How could you have talked to Glider “a few months ago”? You spent the last six months on a cross-country swindling trip and didn’t get back until three weeks ago!

Trickster: (Aside to Mirror Master) That’s right…..but he doesn’t know that.

Mirror Master: (Aside to Trickster) Clever.

Trickster: (Aside to Mirror Master) I know, right? (Aloud) So, what’s the plan?

Act III

(Enter Wally and Iris)

Wally: Is there anything else you need me to do, Aunt Iris?

Iris: Wally, you’ve already gotten me home from the airport, unpacked all my bags, put everything away, pulled everything out when you put everything away wrong, put everything away in the right places, delivered my letter to your Grandpa Ira in Florida, fixed my car, and repainted the garage. You’ve done enough.

Wally: Aww, it was nothing, Aunt Iris.

Iris: It wasn’t nothing. That was a lot of work, and I really appreciate it. (Pause) By the way, you haven’t eaten much since you brought me home. You should probably get some food.

Wally: Good idea, Aunt Iris! (Wally exits, then quickly re-enters) I love Japanese food!

Iris: Did you really run all the way to Japan just to get food? Wally: Why not? I can get there and back in three seconds!

Iris: (laughs) Oh, Wally. You’ve gotta stop doing that before it rubs off on Bart.

Wally: I think it might be too late for that. He’s already running to New York City to watch off-off-Broadway, after all.

Iris: I know, but now that Barry doesn’t have his super speed, we need to dissuade him from doing that again. We can’t be calling you all the time because we can’t bring him back when he disappears to another continent. Without at least one parent with super speed, he needs to stay close to home so that we can help him if he gets into trouble.

Wally: I don’t mind bringing him home.

Iris: Yes, but I’m pretty sure your boss will mind if you have to keep leaving work to bring Bart home from Namibia or Laos or Bithynia.

Wally: But he knows I’m the Flash! I have to leave work all the time!

Iris: True, but there’s a difference between leaving work to stop crime or save people and leaving work to track down your cousin who went on a joyride.

Wally: Yeah, you probably have a point there.

Iris: As soon as he and Barry get home from their trip to the park, I’ll have Barry sit him down and have a little chat with him about running off to other states or foreign countries-assuming that he can focus long enough to get the message, that is.

Wally: Hey, do you mind if I stick around until they get back? I wanted to talk to Uncle Barry about the Rogues’ latest escape from jail.

Iris: Of course you can stay here! (Pause) And why didn’t you tell me that the Rogues escaped? That always makes for a good news story!

Wally: I don’t really know a lot about how it happened yet, so I guess it just slipped my mind.

Iris: In that case, I’ll have to do some investigating to find out how….after Barry, Bart, and I have our little chat, of course.

Wally: Have I ever told you that you’re awesome, Aunt Iris?

Iris: Not lately.

Wally: Well, you’re awesome. (Phone rings) Sorry! I have to get that! (Pulls out phone) Hello? (Pause) Oh, hi, Mrs. Rowen. Why are you calling? (Pause) Suspension? Why? They’re only kindergartners! (Pause) They did what? (Pause) Well, yes, I’m sure that the school having all its windows broken by dual sonic booms would be problematic, but they don’t know how to control their speed. I know they didn’t do it maliciously. (Pause) $600,000? Wow….That is a lot of money. I’m really sorry. I didn’t even know they were moving at supersonic speeds yet. Did anyone get hurt? (Pause) Two teachers are going to need stitches? Oh, no. I’m really sorry. I’m really, really, really sorry. (Pause) Yes, of course I’ll come meet with you. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I’ll be right there. Bye. (Puts phone away) Looks like I won’t be able to talk to Uncle Barry. My kids shattered all the windows at the elementary school when they accidentally created a sonic boom, and now I have to meet with their principal. I swear, parenting super-powered children is a million times harder than fighting supervillains. At least with supervillains, I don’t have to pay for the damages that they cause. I’ve gotta run. Bye!

(Exit Wally)

Iris: It’s at times like these that I’m glad Bart stayed in the Speed Force until he was old enough to know how to control his speed. (Pause) In speaking of Bart, there he and his dad are now. Hopefully, Bart will cooperate with the limits he sets on his travel, because if not, I’m not sure that Barry and I will be able to enforce them. Even Wally wasn’t as impulsive as Bart is.

Act IV (Enter Top, Trickster, Mirror Master, and Weather Wizard. Trickster is wielding a fearsome rubber chicken and a kazoo)

Mirror Master: Did everyone make it through the Mirror Realm all right?

Top: I feel more than a little nauseous, but otherwise, I am fine, since we managed to arrive at our intended destination.

Mirror Master: What are you implying?

Top: Nothing. It is simply that I would feel far more comfortable if I knew that the realm through which we traveled so shortly ago was controlled by a man who had at least completed his secondary education and who hailed from somewhere other than the part of town colloquially known as “Skid Row”. In all candor, your credentials do not inspire confidence.

Mirror Master: Hey, I might not have your fancy education, but I’m just as smart as you. How else do you think I discovered an entire alternate dimension?

Top: My supposition would be that the goddess Fortuna smiled upon an unworthy candidate with the freakish caprice for which she is known.

Mirror Master: Are you saying I just got lucky?

Top: Indeed.

Mirror Master: You’ve got some nerve, Dillon! I worked for years to learn how the Mirror Realm worked! Just because I’m from Skid Row doesn’t mean I’m stupid!

Top: My experience, and the experiences of my father, would suggest otherwise.

Trickster: Girls, girls, girls . You’re both pretty. Now, let’s start the heist already! I already deactivated the alarms, but they’ll come back on eventually. And besides, I’m bored!

Weather Wizard: Trickster’s right. I already created enough snow to slow down the cops, but that won’t hold them forever, and it won’t hold our friend in the red pajamas at all. We need to hurry.

Mirror Master: Well, if the Top is ready, so am I.

Top: I was not the one delaying us, but I am quite prepared to proceed in our enterprise. (To Trickster, as Weather Wizard and Mirror Master start grabbing jewelry) Where is the engagement ring that my beloved desires?

Trickster: (Looks around at the various rings) Let’s see…..I know it’s around here somewhere ….. (Finds a particularly ostentatious ring and points at it) Oh! There it is!

Top: Are you certain that that is what she desires? It seems a bit gaudy for her tastes.

Trickster: Of course I’m sure! (Aside) And I’m not lying. I’m sure she’ll hate it, and I’m sure that learning that he got outsmarted by a circus brat will take Mr.Phony British Accent down a few pegs. He’s smart, but he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.

Top: You have my gratitude, Giovanni. (Takes ring) Is there nothing that you are inclined to take?

Trickster: Not really. I’m here to put on a show, not to take money. (Pulls out bottle of paint) Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to replace the bathroom sinks’ water with paint.

(Exit Trickster; Top analyzes jewelry and slowly begins to select the sophisticated jewelry)

Mirror Master: (To Weather Wizard) I know I said that I was getting a Ferrari, but I’ve been thinking it over, and I think I might get a Lamborghini instead. What do you think?

Weather Wizard: Which one’s faster?

Mirror Master: I’m not sure. Except for a three-day period where I was in possession of W. W. Wiggins’s stolen Ferrari, I’ve never actually owned a car.

Weather Wizard: (Surprised) You’ve never owned a car? How’s that possible? Before I became the Weather Wizard, I was the world’s biggest loser, and even I had a car. I mean, granted, I crashed it into a tree, but I had one!

Mirror Master: (Defensive) I grew up in the inner city. Have you seen the traffic in the interior of Central City? It’s a nightmare! There’s a reason everyone takes the subway to work. The traffic gets so jammed that cars are basically useless.

Weather Wizard: But you still live in the inner city. If there’s no use for one, why do you want it so bad?

Mirror Master: (Angrily) Because I’m tired of being poor! I’ve spent my entire life either in jail or in tiny two-room apartments on Baker Street, and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of always being behind on rent, I’m sick of wearing other people’s cast-offs, and I’m SICK of Roscoe implying that I’m stupid! I want a car because it would be a sign that I finally have enough money to get off of Skid Row! People would have to give me some respect then!

Weather Wizard: If it makes you feel any better, without the weather wand, nobody gives me any respect, either. The only reason that I’m here right now is to earn back the reputation I lost when it broke. I don’t really need the money.

Mirror Master: You don’t?

Weather Wizard: Nah. I won a $20,000 poker game a few weeks ago.

Mirror Master: But you’re terrible at poker!

Weather Wizard: (Shrugs) I was playing against an 18-year-old who had just inherited his daddy’s company and had never played a game in his life.

Mirror Master: And Dillon says I’M the one who gets lucky!

Weather Wizard: Don’t take it personally, Sam. He’s a jerk to everyone-except Lisa, that is.

Mirror Master: What does she see in him, anyway?

Weather Wizard: That, my friend, is one of the great mysteries of life. He’s not even that attractive!

Top: (Comes over) It is not so mysterious as that. Unlike the rest of you ruffians, I am a man of birth, breeding, and education. Our relationship is a great boon for her social status, especially given the “trailer trash” from whence she comes-to use a colloquialism, of course-and I am certainly better company than any of you could hope to provide. Her selection of me as a paramor proves that she, alone among you “Rogues”, has taste.

Mirror Master: (Sarcastically) Yeah, you’re a real prince, Dillon.

(Alarm goes off)

Weather Wizard: Oh, no! The alarm! We must’ve lost track of time, and now the Flash is gonna show up and make me a laughingstock all over again!

(Enter Trickster)

Trickster: Where’s the Flash? He should be here by now!

Mirror Master: Who cares? Let’s get outta here!

Trickster: Wait! I want to fight the Flash! It’s no fun if I don’t get to fight the Flash!

Mirror Master: Trickster, we got what we came for! Now let’s go!

(All exit quickly, Mirror Master dragging a flailing Trickster)

Act V

(Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, Top, and Trickster are onstage, sitting. Trickster is pouting)

Weather Wizard: We...we actually did it?

Top: Obviously. We are here and not in jail, are we not?

Weather Wizard: I know that, I just can’t believe that we actually did it! We never get away with heists this big!

Mirror Master: You’re right, Mardon. It’s been over four years since we had a heist that the Flash didn’t stop….and we got away with it!

Weather Wizard: So, what do we do now?

Mirror Master: I….I don’t know. It’s been years since we got away with anything, so I haven’t had a plan beyond “get away” in years.

Weather Wizard: I guess you can buy your car now.

Mirror Master: Yeah. I guess so. (Sighs) It’s so weird that we’re not in jail right now.

Weather Wizard: Tell me about it. I haven’t had a run of luck this good in ages!

Top: It is not so peculiar as you are treating it. After all, I accompanied you on this heist, something I have not often done. It is not, therefore, terribly surprising that you were successful-I enabled you to come out on top .

Mirror Master: Dillon, do the world a favor and shut up. I’m not in the mood for your attitude.

Weather Wizard: (To Trickster) Hey, James, why are you so upset? We just got away with a million dollars! You should be on cloud nine!

Trickster: I’m upset because the Flash didn’t show up! He’s what makes crime exciting! Since he wasn’t there and we did it at night, I didn’t have an audience, and it wasn’t any fun! Besides, escaping changes up the game. How are we supposed to start the game over if we don’t get captured and have to escape again?

Weather Wizard: Now that you mention it, I did feel like our heist was lacking in that rush. It’s hard to feel excited when there’s no danger that you might be stopped.

Mirror Master: Yeah. It’s not enjoyable to beat him when he doesn’t even show up. (Pause) But hey, at least we’re rich now, right?

Weather Wizard: (Without confidence) Right. And I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something to do. It’ll be great!

Trickster: (Petulantly) No, it won’t. The game’s been ruined!

Mirror Master: How has it been ruined? You don’t need the Flash to trick people.

Trickster: No, I don’t, but it’s not the same. I came back to Central City to play the game, and now the game has been ruined because the Flashes won’t play!

Weather Wizard: (Too cheerfully) Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream? That’ll make us all feel better.

Mirror Master: Sure, why not?

Trickster: I guess so. But only if I can get gummy bears and rainbow sprinkles.

Top: I will pass on that offer. I have fulfilled my part of the agreement and must get back to work.

Weather Wizard: Okay. More for us, I guess.

Mirror Master: (Mutters) Good riddance.

Trickster: I had better get two dips, too.

(Exit Trickster, Mirror Master, and Weather Wizard)

Top: Ahh. Peace and quiet at last. (Pulls out cell phone) Hello, Lisa, darling. This is Roscoe. How fares the mission? (Pause) Allen is willing to help you get the cure? Good. Good. Very good. You, my sweet, are a veritable Sarah Siddons. (Pause) Oh, my apologies. I thought that was common knowledge. Sarah Siddons was a famous Shakespearean actress who was renowned for her life-like portrayal of Lady Macbeth in the 19th century, and you are quite as talented an actress. (Pause) Oh! I almost forgot. I have pleasant news as well, honeybunch. I appropriated the engagement ring that you so desired! (Pause) Wait, you never picked out a ring for that purpose? My profuse apologies, sweetums. It seems that I was misinformed. (Pause) Don’t worry, my dearest darling. The pain has been quite manageable, and given what you have just told me, I have no fear for my life. (Pause) Thank you, darling. Your snuggle-bunny loves you, too. Good-bye. (Puts phone away) TRICK-STER!

(Scene change. Enter Wally, in jewelry store)

Wally: Aw, come on! I’m getting sued by the school district AND I let the Rogues get away? Man, this just isn’t my day! (Pause) Oh, well. If there’s one thing that Uncle Barry’s taught me, it’s that a true hero never gives up. I’m sure to find them eventually-especially since they aren’t exactly subtle. (Pause) And if there’s one good thing about all this, it’s that things can’t possibly get worse! I’ll go get a quick snack, and then I’ll find Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry so that we can take down those Rogues- in a Flash!

#wally west #flash rogues #dc comics #fanfic

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pi-creates · 4 years ago

Note

Out of all of the villains/antagonists in twdg which do you think were best portrayed and which were worst portrayed? my personal fav antagonist is kenny, he’s the only villain who i go out of my way to somewhat agree with him because he genuinely makes me nervous

...ya know, it’s probably not a good sign that I’m having trouble picking out which characters were antagonists in each season. Or maybe that’s a good sign? I dunno, depends on whether we like the idea that all of these characters are just people rather than enemies.

So like, season one had the St Johns, the Stranger, and arguably the Cancer group. And of them, the St Johns are the only ones that leave a lasting impression. They do leave one hell of an impression too - if they were somehow expanded to have a larger role in the story, they would have been fantastic as an example of “be careful who to trust and who you piss off”. Though none of these characters really last long enough to feel like a persistent threat.

And I do agree with you, anon. If we accept Kenny as an antagonist in season two then he is very well written in that role. He makes me nervous, he creates problems that are difficult to solve but that we want to fix, we question whether he has good or bad intentions, and we feel conflicted about how to handle him... yeah. That’s all good stuff. And the big thing is that he’s introduced early and sticks around until the climactic end of the narrative. He’s definitely more interesting than Carver in any case. And Troy’s a dick who’s too underdeveloped to reach a villain level.

Then A New Frontier has a lot of antagonistic characters, but I don’t know which ones would actually be classed as “villains”. Joan annoys me, and she has that one moment that I think is brutal where she intentionally gets your input on what will hurt you most. That’s intense, but otherwise she’s just... not interesting. David is probably the biggest constant antagonistic character throughout - and as far as ANF goes, he’s pretty consistent in most scenes (definitely not all). There is also the big thing where David does feel a little bit like Kenny 2.0 in that he has the same flaws, but now he’s directly related to you and I find him marginally better at explaining why he is antagonistic even if he doesn’t want to be. So David probably goes a little higher on the list than Kenny for me - because I find David both more dangerous and more interesting in his conflicts.

As for The Final Season... I’m conflicted as to who to call an antagonist. Lilly and the raiders, sure, but they’re more scary as a collective “enemy force”. Lilly herself is fine, she’s threatening and her motivation goes against our own, blahblahblah. The thing is, in the end her motivation isn’t hers, its her group. Maybe I just find that less interesting, I don’t know if that’s personal preference or what, but it makes it feel like she is somehow less of a villain and more of a piece playing a small part in a bigger plan. And I guess you can potentially say that Marlon was an antagonistic force for a time, but I wouldn’t put him on full-blown antagonist level. Minnie is probably the most interesting of the “enemies” we face in TFS, but again, introduced too late for her to feel like a full antagonist - she’s definitely a good villain for her parts in episode 4, though.

So I guess looking over everything, David is probably the character who I think is my favourite portrayal as an antagonist. He’s one of those characters who does bad but I understand why and I want him to be better, and that bites me in the end because he can’t do that in time to stop tragedy. Even though that’s quite similar to Kenny, I find it more compelling with David since it’s more personal when he’s your brother. He has a greater capacity to hurt you on both an emotional and physical level, and we also have a greater want for him to turn a corner because you are family.

As for what I consider the worst... the Stranger is just nothing. Maybe if they introduced him earlier and showed us the extent of how dangerous he can be, yet he’s handled very quickly once we find him. And the weapon he wields is guilt and the ability to manipulate children. Nah. He’s a plot mover more than he is a character.

#twdg talk

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ghostlyhamburger · 4 years ago

Text

Guiding Light

Prompt: Moonlight

Request: Lady Noire/Adrien

Rating: E

Read on Ao3

“Hey, Pigtails,” Plagg said, confronting Marinette right after she left a shower. “Wanna go see your boyfriend?”

“Wow, Chat was right about you being a bad influence,” Marinette replied, laughing. “First of all, Adrien’s not my boyfriend, and second, why do you want me to go see him so bad anyways?”

“Because it’s funny,” the kwami replied.

“My humiliation is funny?”

“Nah,” Plagg said. “You’ll get it someday. Maybe.”

She shook her head. “Fine. Plagg, claws out!”

Adrien was at home, talking to Tikki, working through a history lesson with her excitedly talking about Joan of Arc, one of her past holders. But then a shadow passed over his window and Tikki zipped out of sight.

Adrien turned to see his own baton shoot up past the window, followed by Lady Noire riding it up, stopping to knock.

Of course he opened the window. “Um, hi?”

“Hey,” she replied, casually dropping into his bedroom. “Hope you don’t mind the late night visit, Hot Stuff.”

“Um,” he replied. Was he supposed to recognize her? Did Plagg put her up to this?

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a grin, casually flipping her long braid over her shoulder. “I forgot I look different now—I’m Ladybug. Just in a different outfit for the night. You can call me Lady Noire.”

“Like Chat Noir?” he asked.

She nodded. “We switched. Just for a little bit. He’s off running around somewhere as Mister Bug. Don’t worry, Paris is still safe.”

“Okay,” Adrien said. “Um, why are you here?”

Lady Noire stepped towards him, her hips swaying in a way that held Adrien’s rapt attention. She moved one clawed finger along his jawline, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “Can’t a girl just want to spend some time with the boy she loves?”

Her eyes widened just slightly as she realized what she’d just said. Was it Plagg’s influence making her this bold, or just the way that Adrien was staring at her?

She had no way of knowing that Adrien’s head was also swirling at this revelation. All this time, the other boy—it had been him?

“What about Cha—Mister Bug?” he asked. He might be cockblocking himself, but he had to know what she really thought about him.

Lady Noire gave a soft smile. “He’s my partner, and I trust him with everything. I do love him, but, well, I fell for you first. Being in love with him meant giving up on you, and I couldn’t do that…”

He stepped close and kissed her, all hesitation flying out the window. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against him as he tried to pour the last few years of love into a single kiss.

She kissed him back hungrily, her lips parting against his as her tongue sought entrance to his mouth. She moaned as their bodies pressed together, as his hand slid across her hip.

“Adrien,” she gasped, and her body rolled against his. “Adrien, please…”

They moved together, Adrien pressing Lady Noire back until she was pushed up against the wide glass of his window, moonlight streaming in and illuminating her face, flushed and panting, her lips kiss bruised.

“Take off your shirt,” she said, and he was happy to comply, throwing the offending garment to the side. She kissed his jaw, his neck, trailing lower and lower.

Adrien tried not to combust as the love of his life flicked his nipple with her tongue before going even lower, kissing the lines of his stomach until she was fully kneeling before him. She curled her fingers around the waist of his sweatpants, glancing up at him with an innocent gaze that seemed much more sinful with her eyes washed acid green.

“Can I…?”

He couldn’t respond, just nodded as she pulled his pants down. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, so his dick was free to spring out and—lightly smack her in the cheek.

“Shit, Lady—Noire, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” He cut his words off when she brought her hand to his cock, gently stroking him, actually nuzzling her cheek against his length.

She turned her head and kissed his cock, just a light brush of lips onto the head. It was enough to make Adrien groan. He brushed his hand over her head before holding onto her braid, wrapping the long strands of hair around his hand.

She opened her mouth and took his cock in, pressing her tongue to her length. His hips jerked forward as he unthinkingly pulled on her hair, forcing his cock down her throat. He tried to apologize, but could only let out a low moan as she locked eyes with him and deliberately started to bob her head.

He tugged on her hair again, and she fucking whimpered around his cock, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hands rested on his hips, steadying him as she let her amazing mouth take care of him. But then she dug her claws into him just a little too hard, and he had to back away.

“I-is everything okay?” she asked, her mouth still brushing the tip of his cock, and oh god his precum was on her lips.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice tight. “Just—claws.”

She glanced at her hands, then her face flushed red as she brought them to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, I-I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be,” he said, gently grabbing her hands and helping her stand. “That was fantastic…but I want to make you feel good too.” He kissed her again, sliding his arms around her and holding her close against him.

She pressed her body against his, actually lifting one leg to rest on his hip. He groaned against her lips as her suit slid across his cock, the area between her legs unthinkably warm and soft. His hands moved to grip her ass and he hoisted her up off the ground, letting her wrap both legs around him as he carried her over to his bed.

She rolled her hips against him, and he almost dropped her as he groaned, but instead he held her tighter and kissed her neck.

He set her down on his bed and knelt over her, his hands finally roaming her body, cupping her breasts, sliding down to her hips. “Fuck, La-Ladyb—I need to feel you…”

She frowned, running her hands over his chest. “I—I can’t exactly take the suit off…”

Adrien bit back a curse. He knew that. He knew that Plagg wouldn’t be happy if they did anything while she kept the suit on, either. And he didn’t want to make Ladybug deal with one of the kwami’s sulk fests later.

“Do…do you promise not to look?” she asked softly.

“What?”

She moved, flipping so she was on her knees and facing away from him. “If you can’t see my face…claws in.”

Plagg zipped out of her ring and rolled his eyes at Adrien before darting towards the minifridge where he kept the cheese. Adrien just shook his head, smiling slightly before he turned his attention towards the naked girl before him, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the large window.

“Ladybug,” he breathed, daring to reach out and touch her. One hand moved to her waist, feeling her bare skin beneath his fingertips. The other hand gently squeezed her ass—it was right in front of him, round and inviting, how could he not?

“Adrien,” she moaned. “Please, I—I want you. All of you.”

He would prefer to be looking in her eyes, drowning in the sapphire blue, but he was not going to argue with pretty naked girl. He had no idea what he was doing, but his hands stroked her body, admiring how soft and warm her skin was. He let one hand drift between her legs, the one area he definitely never thought he’d be able to touch.

She was hot and wet and he swore he could probably come just by touching her. She moaned softly, and he turned his attention to her pleasure, slowly sinking his fingers into her, exploring her pussy, finding what parts of her made her moan, what made her whimper, what made her beg.

“A-Adrien,” she said shakily. “I-I need more. Please, please…”

Was he really ready to lose his virginity to Ladybug right here, right now?

Hell fucking yes.

He drew his hand mostly out of her, just kept his fingertips in her to part her folds as he guided his cock into her core. He sucked in a gulp of air through his teeth, trying not to instantly come as he felt insane heat, tight and wet, pulling his cock deeper into her.

“Ah, yes,” she whimpered, pressing herself against him. “So good, so, so good…”

He pushed himself into her fully, trying to keep some sense about him as he felt her, his Lady, wrapped around every inch of him. He groaned, sliding his hand along her back, letting his touch drift to her front, her bare breasts. Her nipple was hard against his fingertips and he couldn’t stop touching her, gently squeezing her breast as he slowly fucked her.

“Y-you can—ah!—pull my hair again, if you want,” she managed to murmur between moans, the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.

He ran his fingers through her hair, now shorter and hanging around her shoulders, and wrapped the strands around his hand before giving a firm tug.

The way she clenched around him and the sound she made would be etched in his mind forever. “Again, p-please,” she begged.

“Didn’t know this was a thing for you,” he murmured. He wanted to tug on her pigtails on patrol, see her face as he felt his touch.

“I—god—I didn’t know either,” she admitted.

He let go of her hair, letting the silky soft strands slip through his fingers before grabbing her locks again. “You’re so amazing,” he said softly, his hips slowing but never stopping. “Your hair looks so beautiful in the moonlight, my Lady…”

She pulled her head away from him, hair slipping out of his grasp as she abruptly looked over her shoulder in shock. “Chat?”

“Marinette?”

She shifted away from him, his cock pulling out of her and hitting the cold air in the room as she tried to cover her face with her hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Maybe not, but it had happened, and Adrien needed to be back inside her, needed to make her feel as good as he felt right now, needed her to know that he loved her even more than he’d loved the separate girls he thought she was.

So he reached out to her and gently stroked her hair before grabbing a handful and tugging her head back, out of her hands. She was wide-eyed, but couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped her lips before he kissed her.

“A-Adrien,” she murmured when he let her hair go. “You’re Adrien. You’re Chat. You’re—oh my god…”

“And you’re the girl I fell in love with,” he replied, moving his arms around her. “You’re the partner I always loved and the incredibly amazing friend I couldn’t help but fall for.”

Her eyes met his, and he just had to kiss her again, pulling her body close to his.

“You’re also the very amazing, very naked girl in my bed,” he murmured.

She finally cracked a smile. “I suppose it would be nice to see your face while we…you know.”

“Make love?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

She nodded, pink staining her cheeks, and he couldn’t help himself as he pushed her back against the mattress, moving to kneel over her.

“You still want this, right?” he asked. He had to be sure.

Marinette smiled, her eyes innocently wide but her lips promising sin. “Please, Adr—Chaton.”

He shifted his hips and his cock pushed back inside her. She seemed to be even more hot and wet around him, and he moved at a steady pace, this time watching her face to see what she liked, what she needed from him.

He wasn’t going to last long, but he needed her to finish first. He took a move he’d seen in a porn once and pressed his hand against the top of her pussy, inexpertly finding her clit. When his fingertip brushed over the swollen bud, she gasped and clenched tight around him.

He rubbed that spot as her breaths quickened, panting as her moans grew high-pitched. Her eyes shut as she cried out, back arching, pussy impossibly tight around him as she came.

She breathed hard, coming down from the orgasm, and softly whispered, “I love you.”

That was all Adrien needed. Her words echoed in his head as he spilled over the edge, and lost himself in his Marinette.

“Can you stay here tonight?” he murmured as he pulled out of her and moved to lie beside her. “I don’t want to let go of you.”

She smiled. “For a little while. But sooner or later I know I’m going to panic about this whole reveal and then—it’s probably better that I’m home for that.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Don’t you mean purr-obably?”

She snorted. “Yeah right. I don’t know how I never noticed it was you before.” She shifted to meet his gaze and added softly, “But I don’t regret knowing.”

#ml smut #mlnsfw #miraculust #ghostly writes #smutember 2020

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

Gene Pool

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2917

Prompt: Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh

———————

A loud groaning noise vibrated through the walls of the theater, catching Anne’s attention as she was getting dressed to leave after that day’s evening show. To her left, Aragon wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“They still haven’t fixed those damn pipes?” She said. “Some high quality theater this is.”

“I think it’s fine,” Cleves shrugged. “It’s fun to tell young fans that it’s a ghost.”

“Of course you would do that.” Anne laughed.

“Shall we wait for you?” Aragon asked the green queen, as she and Cleves had finished changing.

“Nah, go without me,” Anne said. “I’ve got some things to do.”

In which, those “things” were cheering up a certain blonde girl.

Anne noticed Joan acting rather stressed and aloof for awhile, but it wasn’t until she spiraled into a panic attack out of nowhere the day before that she finally decided to really do something. She was going to treat the poor music director to a dinner of her choice and just be there for her, and hopefully get the truth of her current state out of her in the process.

“Oh, m’lady!” Anne chirped, prancing into Joan’s dressing room. “Gath'r thy belongings, mine own lief! It’s timeth to wend!”

She stopped in the doorway, noticing that Joan was still in her costume.

The girl didn’t acknowledge her...or maybe she didn’t even hear her. She just remained hunched over her desk. Anne thought she may have been asleep, as she did sometimes nod off, but she saw the subtle twitch of her shoulders and heard the smallest sniff emit from her timid music director.

“The young wench gaveth nay cleareth response.” Anne narrated. She dramatically leaned against the wall. “Ign'r'd by mine own owneth kin! Thee curs'd robe stealeth'r! How couldst thee doth this to me?!”

No response.

Anne pursed her lips and stepped closer.

“Prithee! Doth not doth this to me! Pri— Joan?”

Anne stopped her charade when she heard the tiniest whimper. In an instant, her maternal instincts are kicked in and she sets a hand on Joan’s shoulder, which causes a second whimper to bubble up. Then, Joan is twisting around in her chair and burying her head against her stomach, weeping.

“Anne— Oh, Anne, I-I messed up! I-I thought I could—” Joan’s strange babbling broke off into incoherent sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Anne wrapped her arms around the trembling girl. “Hey, shh... Shh... It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Joan ripped away. Her eyes are wide with terror. “I-it’s not okay! I-I...”

She looked down at her hands as if they were drenched in blood and broke down into a fresh fit of tears.

“Come here, sweet girl...” Anne gathered Joan back into her arms and held her tightly. She rubs her back comfortingly. “Shh, shh... I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

“A-Annie,” Joan squeaked out. “I-I’m s-so sorry...”

“It’s okay, Joan. You’re allowed to cry.”

“N-no—“ Joan sniffled. “N-not...not about that. About...”

Anne furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

“What?”

Joan leaned back. She’s hugging herself tightly, not making eye contact. Then, her gaze shifts to her desk, and Anne follows.

Joan’s work table is always a mess, but now it just looks like a hurricane had blown across it. Dozens of papers are scattered across the top, and there are several more that are crumpled into balls or ripped or completely shredded. Ink of various colors is splattered on the white wood, staining it permanently. Books are open and leaned against the wall- books about human anatomy and skeletons and body parts.

It takes a moment for Anne to realize that this was not music director work.

“Joan, what’s all this?” Anne asked. She picked up the nearest paper and read it over.

The paper had a crude drawing of a human at the center with notes written all over the sides, several of which were scribbled out, seemingly incorrect. The person had an animal skull over the head, which Anne assumed to be a deer’s. On the top, a few words were written, “Cadaver?? Deer??? Stag??”

“Are you taking up an interest in forensics?” Anne laughed slightly. “Joan, sweetheart, that’s nothing to be ashamed of! Bessie already—”

“No!” Joan cried. “Y-you don’t...” She gripped her forearms tightly and rocked back and forth in the chair. Something was making the poor thing very distressed. “I-I can’t... I can’t hide this from you anymore, can I?”

Anne blinked. She slowly set the paper down and cupped Joan’s tear stained face.

“Joan, baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

A few fresh tears slipped out of Joan’s eyes. Anne gingerly wiped them away with her thumb.

“Talk to me, darling.” Anne murmured to her. “Please. I’m worried about you.”

Joan sniffled. She pulled away from Anne and scrubbed at her eyes before standing up.

“Okay,” She whispered. “Do you have any food?”

“Food?” Anne blinked

“Yeah.”

Confused, Anne dug through her purse and pulled out an energy bar. Joan smiled weakly and took it from her, then also swiped a small journal from underneath a pile of papers, causing it to topple over in an avalanche of white.

“Thanks. Come on.”

Anne followed Joan out of the dressing room, down a hallway, and towards a back section of the theater that nobody really went to just because it seemed creepy. And they were right to think that, because Joan opened a set of double doors that were usually always locked with a key she slips out from her back pocket.

“Where are we going?” Anne asked as they walked down another corridor, this one much more rundown and dim.

“The basement.” Joan answered grimly.

“This place has a basement?”

“...Yeah.” There’s anxiety flashing through Joan’s eyes. Anne tried to calm her by placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but it did little to help. “Anne— I-“ The words die. Joan has to think for a moment before she tries to speak again. “I was...alone for a long time before you came along and took me under your wing. I had a lot of time to think. And one thing I could never get out of my head was how we got here. Reincarnation, I mean.”

“Yeah...?” Anne said, not really understanding.

Joan stopped at a staircase that seemingly led into a pitch black void. She spun around to face Anne. An unreadable emotion has replaced the anxiety in her bloodshot grey eyes.

“If we could be brought back to life, could the same happen to other people?” She said. “I— I was so fascinated by this that I started coming up with all these scenarios.” She opened the journal and showed Anne a page scrawled with pictures of humans and skeletons, triangles, beams of light, and other strange symbols. She’s smiling slightly. “I call it the ‘reincarnation theory.’ It’s what I’ve been using as an answer for all of this.” She points to three lightning bolts. “Think of it like Frankenstein. With enough electricity, a person can be revived. But what about a person who’s been dead for five hundred years?”

Anne wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Joan wasn’t looking for a reply.

“And do they have to be important? Like you and the other queens! Perhaps you being here is the ‘electricity’ that me and the ladies in waiting needed to come back. So would that work with other people, too? Other- other people from our time? People close to us?”

Then, her grin fell. A look of guilt and fear twists her features again.

“I...I haven’t been staying late to work on music director stuff.” She whispered.

Joan spun around and promptly walked down the staircase, nothing bothering to turn on any lights. If there were lights at all.

Anne hesitated, then followed.

“What are you talking about?” She asked. She had never been so confused and unnerved in her life.

Joan doesn’t answer. All she does is look at Anne pitifully, then turns her gaze forward again.

After a few seconds of walking, Joan opens another locked door at the bottom of the staircase, and they step into a nearly pitch-black room. The only light inside was a furnace-like piece of machinery in the back, which glowed a soft orange color. It seemed to be a boiler room of sorts.

“Joan...” Anne whispered warily.

She quickly realized why Joan hadn’t been speaking.

The low groan of the leaky pipes rumbled from somewhere in the darkness.

But it wasn’t the pipes.

Anne watched in frozen horror as something slinked out of the shadows. Its greyish skin and misshapen figure was like anything she had ever seen before. Inhumanly long fingers with hooked nails scratched quietly against the cracked tile in front of it. Long, disjointed feet pushed the rest of its scraggly, naked body along. When it raised its head, it had no eyes, just black sockets, and an stubby, elongated nose and mouth, like a bat snout of sorts. Patches of wiry brown hair that seemed more like fur stuck up along the head. It almost looked like a very large hairless dog in a weird sort of way.

The thing crawled on all fours out of the darkness, sniffing loudly as it went. Then, it jumped up, nearly making Anne run out from the scare of the jarring movements, and perched on a low hanging pipe. It extended a bony hand towards the pair, making loud noises as it waved it in the air. Joan gently squeezed the hand and then let the creature feel her head and face. It seemed to recognize her that way and let out a delighted hum, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek.

“Hey, Johnny Boy,” Joan murmured, smiling softly. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“Joan—” Anne choked out. She’s backed up to the doorway, ready to run. “What the fuck?”

“Anne-” Joan whirled around to face the queen. The creature above her head began to growl. It sounded like when a human tried to imitate a dog, which made it that much more terrifying. “Please don’t run.”

“What the fuck?” Anne whispered again. Her eyes don’t leave the thing sitting on the pipes like a jungle bird.

“Anne, listen to me,” Joan said. She walked forward and took Anne’s hands. “You— You have to let him smell you. Or else he’ll think you’re a threat and—” She broke off.

“And what?” Anne asked fearfully.

“You...don’t want to know.” Joan said grimly. “Now please. I promise he won’t hurt you if you do this.”

Anne looked at Joan, searched her eyes for the same malicious glint Henry had in them when he sent her to his death, but found nothing. The girl was genuinely trying to help her.

Tentatively, on wobbling knees, Anne took a step forward. Joan helps her along, keeping on hand on her elbow and the other on her wrist. They slowly approach the creature on the pipes.

“Hey, Johnny,” Joan murmured sweetly. The creature turns its head in her direction, rumbling in acknowledgment. “I have a friend here to meet you. Her name is Anne. You remember Anne, don’t you? The queen?”

The creature chuffed in recognition.

Anne’s hand is held out to it and it sniffs her gingerly. Then, it leans forward, fingers and toes curling around the pipe for stability, and begins to smell the rest of Anne. It took everything in Anne not to run away when it feels her facial features and hair with one of its cold, bony hands.

“See?” Joan said to her, smiling in relief. “Was that so hard?”

“I-I don’t... I don’t understand.” Anne whispered.

“I’m not expecting you to,” Joan said. “This is my brother. John. I tried to bring him back when the loneliness became too much and it...kinda worked.”

“Why does he look like that?” Anne asked, earning an offended snort from John. “Sorry.”

“I...I don’t know.” Joan admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure that part out. So...I’ve been...testing more...”

Anne’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, Joan, no-”

A clicking noise cut her off. She slowly looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the boiler room and searched the shadows. It took her a moment, but she eventually found what had been mimicking the sounds The Predator would make.

It lunged out at Anne, screeching inhumanly. Anne screamed, too, as she’s knocked back against the wall. The thing was clinging to her body, nails pressed into her shoulders and thighs as it raised above her hand and-

“Juana, stop!!”

Joan shoved the creature away and it toppled backwards. Its long brown limbs flail widely in the air before it manages to roll over and back away on all fours, arching its bony spiny up like a cat.

The thing is humanoid like John, but not as bony, has darker skin, similar to Aragon’s tone, with a yellowish-bronze tint, and its legs are more noticeably hock-jointed. Its shoulder blades are grotesquely stretched out to inhuman lengths like wings that are waiting to sprout. The tailbone is extended, too, and waved back and forth in the air as some kind of warning. Tufts of something are sprouted along the nape of the neck, collarbone, elbows, and knees. A gas mask is attached to the face, shielding any facial features.

“Will you cut that—” Joan sighed and looked at Anne, who is horrified all over again. “Sorry. Juana is a little cranky sometimes.” She makes sure that’s directed to the creature, who clicks angrily. “Umm. This is Juana. Aragon’s sister.”

“Ara— What?!”

John hisses and Juana clicked when Anne yelled. She quickly shut her eyes and just stared at Joan with wide eyes. The music director anxiously rubs her sweaty palms against her pants.

“I didn’t have anyone else from my life I could test my theory on.” She said. “So...I started using others. Because maybe if I could bring back down siblings then everyone would like me.”

“Joan, that’s— that’s insane!” Anne exclaimed. “Why would you—”

“I don’t know, okay?!” Joan snapped. Tears were brimming in her eyes again. “I don’t know! It was stupid, I get it! But there’s nothing I can do about it now! They’re here. And I can’t just get rid of them. They’re alive, Anne.”

Anne is silent for a moment.

“Who else is here?” She asked quietly.

“There’s four in total.” Joan answered. “Isabel is another.”

“Isabel...?”

“Leigh.” Joan specified. “Kat’s sister.”

From further back in the room, there’s a creaking noise, followed by a low grumbling.

A tall creature with shiny black skin with grey speckles lumbers out of the shadows. It’s so large it bonks its head on one of the pipes, causing it to rear back in surprise before ducking under the oppressive piece of metal. When it gets close enough, Anne could see horn-like formations curling out of the top of the bald head. The only facial features it has is solid, piercing blue eyes.

“Here she is.” Joan said. “Isabel, this is Anne. She’s Kat’s cousin.”

Isabel tilted her head slowly, almost like a dog. She lifted one of her clawed hands, which is as big as Anne’s face, and tentatively touched one of Anne’s spacebuns. She makes a low cooing noise and then waved her head to look at the other two malformed reincarnated creatures nearby.

“Are they...in pain?” Anne asked. “Does this hurt them?”

“I don’t think so,” Joan answered. “They aren’t bad, I just— I messed up.” She lowered her head. “I want to help them, I just don’t know how and I-I keep making it worse. I can’t bring them out because-“ She gestured vaguely for the trip. “You know…” She raised a hand and Isabel pressed her cold, black cheek into it. “But...they’re my friends.”

John clambered across a pipe and leaned over to nuzzle Joan’s temple with his bat-like snout. Joan smiled weakly and gave him the energy bar she had gotten from Anne. His empty sockets widen when he realizes what’s being offered to him and he snatches it up, devouring the treat with the wrapper still on.

“You have to tell the others.” Anne said.

“What?!” Joan looked at her, startled. “N-no! I can’t! Do you know how they’ll react? Especially Aragon! This— this is basically black magic!”

“They can’t arrest you or anything for it.”

“But they can shun me!”

“They deserve to know!” Anne argued.

She was getting angry. Joan knee she shouldn’t have told her.

“No, they don’t!” Joan cried. Her tears spill over. “Why don’t you deal with your family member before you tell me what to do with theirs!”

Anne froze. Her eyes go wide. There’s a low, but harmless and curious growl from the darkness behind her.

“Wh...what?”

Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. John hangs over her head, and she can hear Juana and Isabel’s claws clack against the tile floor as they stand behind her, watching Anne.

“I told you there were four.” She mumbled hoarsely.

Anne was frozen for a tense half second before she slowly turned around and watched as a humanoid with a deer skull head, the thing from the drawing on Joan’s desk, stepped out of the shadows towards her. It tilts its head like a puppy and the bony jaws open up in a small smile.

“Anne... This is George.”

Tears start to rapidly fall down Anne’s cheeks.

“Your brother.”

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fanfiction #sixfic #anne boleyn #nana boleyn #joan on the keys #catherine of aragon #anna of cleves #isabel leigh #juana of castile #george boleyn #boleyn siblings #john astley #gene pool

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winchesterbrotherstan · 5 years ago

Text

SPN- Playthings (2.11)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (sister OC)

Summary: After a month of searching for Ava with no results, the siblings accept a case from Ellen. Sam spirals after a secret is revealed, Olive plays caretaker, and Dean makes a promise he can’t keep.

Warnings: uh, like a ghost, the word gun is in there one time (wow), uh there’s some cursing, DOLLS ARE FUCKING CREEPY OKAY, uhh, olive says the word milf, uh like, idk?? mentions of dead ppl??

Word Count: 6079

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen.” Sam hung up the phone as I unlocked the door, pushing it open with my foot.

“What’d she have to say?” Dean shut the door behind him.

“Oh, she’s got nothing.” Sam sighed. “Me, I’ve been checking every database I can think of. Federal, state, local. No one’s heard anything about Ava. She just… into thin air, you know?”

Dean sighed and handed Sam one of the coffee cups. Sam looked over at us with hopeful puppy eyes.

“What about you?”

Dean and I shared a look. I shook my head and turned back to Sam.

“Nothing yet. I’m sorry, bubs.”

Sam sighed. “Ellen did have one thing.”

“What was it?” Dean sat down at the table.

I dropped onto Sam’s bed and began to work at my shoes.

“A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

Dean looked at me. I shrugged.

“I’m confused, what’s this have to do with Ava?”

Sam shook his head. “No, it’s just a job. A lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs. His head does a complete one-eighty. Not exactly normal, you know. I dunno, guys, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we’d think about checking it out.”

Sam looked at us. I shrugged again.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Wait, you did?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Sam frowned. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Well, it’s just… you know…” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Not the uh, patented Sam Winchester way. Is it?”

Sam raised an eyebrow.. “And what way is that?”

“Oh, you know, I just figured that after Ava, there’d be, uh… ya now, more angst and droopy music and staring out rainy windows and-”

Sam shot Dean a bitchface, and he chuckled.

“Okay. I’ll shut up now.”

“Look.” Sam huffed. “I’m the one who told her to go back home. And now her fiancé’s dead and some demon snatched her and took her God knows where. But we’ve been looking for a month now, and we’ve still got nothing. I’m not giving up on her, but I’m not gonna sit by and let other people die either. We’ve gotta save as many people as we can.”

“Wow.” Dean blinked. “That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I’m officially uncomfortable now. Thanks.”

Sam ducked his head and laughed. I shuffled from the bed to stand behind him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned over him. He patted my arm with a smile.

“Alright.” Dean huffed dramatically. “Call Ellen, tell her we’ll take it.”

***

I yawned as Dean put the Impala in park. We had stayed in the car for the night, and with Jinx and my most recent growth spurt, it proved to be more difficult than we had remembered. I kicked Dean in my sleep, and my leg had twisted up weird.

“Dude, this is sweet.” Dean grinned as we poured out of the car. “I never get to work jobs like this.”

“Like what?”

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, secret passageways… sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we’re inside.” Dean closed his eyes with a smile and a soft sigh. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”

I shook my head as we started up the porch stairs.

“Hey, wait a sec.” Sam held a hand out, stopping us both short.

I turned back down the steps, staring at an urn on the side of the stairs. Dean stopped walking and looked at us over his shoulder.

“I’m not so sure haunted’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“See the pattern?” Sam squatted next to the urn and tapped a five point symbol engraved in a sun. “That’s a quincunx.”

“A five-spot.” I hummed.

“Five-spot.” Dean repeated.

“Yeah.”

“That’s used for hoodoo spellwork, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you’ve got a powerful charm to ward off enemies.”

“Yeah, except I don’t see any bloodweed.” Dean smacked his lips. “Don’t you think this place is a little too, uh… whitemeat for hoodoo?”

Sam huffed as we looked around. “Maybe.”

We filed into the inn one by one. Dean caught the front lady’s attention, and Sam and I took our sweet time closing the door, observing the old timey interior.

“May I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’d like a room for a couple of nights.” Dean smiled.

Sam and I shared a look before he stepped into the lobby. A little girl wearing an old school-uniform bumped into Sam’s legs as she ran across the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight, and Jinx barked. I knelt next to her and shushed her, smoothing her fur out.

“Hey!” The lady shouted before looking at Sam. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Sam shook his head, a dismissive frown on his face. “No problem.”

“Well, um, congratulations. You could be some of our final guests.”

“Well. Sounds vaguely ominous.” Dean huffed.

“No, I’m sorry. I mean we’re closing at the end of the month.” The lady looked over the two. “Let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?”

Dean looked back at Sam with a why not look before turning back. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, you just look the type.”

I could sense Dean’s discomfort. Sam stepped forward.

“Sorry, uh, are you guys pet friendly? She’s well trained, we just didn’t have anywhere to leave her.”

“Normally we’re not, but since we’re so close to shutting down, it’s fine.”

Sam nodded at me and I slowly brought Jinx in.

“So, uh, one king-sized bed?”

“What?” Sam blinked.

“Oh, oh, oh, uh, no. No, no, no.” I shook my head, popping in between the two. “No, two singles.” I circled my finger around the three of us. “We’re just siblings.”

“Oh.” The lady’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Dean tilted his head. “What’d you mean that we look the type?”

She stared down while looking for something to say. Sam cleared his throat.

“You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where’d you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea.” She smiled, grateful for the out. “It’s been there forever.”

She handed Dean a room key. “Here you go, Mr. Mahagov.”

Dean gave her the classic white-people smile and took the key. “Thanks.”

The lady rang the bell on the counter. “You’ll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show these fine folks to their room?”

Dean and I turned to see an old, balding man dressed formally shuffling up behind us. “Let me guess. Antiquers?”

The three of us bit our tongues as Sherwin took Dean’s bag from him and began to lead us up the stairs. Sam and I opted to keep ours on our shoulders. Sam scooped Jinx off her feet and held her to his chest as we followed Sherwin. Dean’s duffel bag wouldn’t stop clunking, and I was horrified a gun would somehow go off. Dean scratched the back of his neck.

“I could give you a hand with that bag.”

“I got it.”

“Okay.” Dean licked his lips and gave me a look.

I patted his arm. Sam cleared his throat.

“So, the hotel’s closing up, huh?”

“Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don’t come like they used to. Still, it’s a damn shame.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam spoke in a tell-us-more tone.

“It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it.” Sherwin sighed as he unlocked our room and pushed the door open. “Here’s your room.”

He handed Sam the key and nodded as we shuffled into the room. Dean turned to shut the door, only to see that Sherwin was standing there, hand out.

“You’re not gonna… cheap out on me. Are you, boy?”

Dean sighed as he pulled out his wallet.

***

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he skimmed over the paper in his hand. I yawned and put down the paper I had just finished reading. Dean was pacing. He let out a dry chuckle, then a mumble of curses.

“What?” Sam and I didn’t look up.

“That’s normal.” Dean huffed.

I looked up as he stood next to me, arms crossed over his chest. There was an old wedding dress pinned up to the wall. I sucked in air through my teeth as Dean moved to sit on one of the beds.

“Why the hell would anyone stay here? I’m amazed they kept in business this long.” He dropped onto the bed, which sunk further under him.

“Alright, victim number one.” I spoke up, waving the paper. “Joan Edison, forty three years old. Realtor handling the sale of the hotel. Victim number two?” I looked over at Sam.

“Larry Williams. Moving some stuff out to Goodwill.”

“Well, there’s a connection. They’re both tied up in shutting the place down.”

“Yeah.” Sam hummed. “Maybe somebody here doesn’t wanna leave, and they’re using hoodoo to fight back.”

“Who do you think our witch doctor is? That Susan lady?”

“Nah.” Sam shook his head. “Doesn’t seem likely. I mean, she is the one selling.”

“Maybe Sherwin?” I offered.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged.

“Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we’re gay?”

“Well…” Sam hummed. “You are kinda butch. Probably think you’re overcompensating.”

I snorted. “It’s cause you’re a bottom and Sam’s not.” I mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I mumbled again.

“Ha fucking ha.” Dean narrowed his eyes at me with a huff.

***

“This place is weird.” I stuck to Dean’s side as we poked around the hallways.

“Hey, look.” Sam pulled another urn off a table. “More hoodoo.”

Dean made a face before looking around. He stalked off toward a door marked PRIVATE and knocked. Sam put the urn down and we crowded Dean in the doorway, eyes wide as we looked around.

The door opened, revealing Susan. “Hi.”

“Hi there.” Dean gave his charming grin.

“Everything okay with your room?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah everything’s great.”

“Well-”

“Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing.” She cut Dean off as the three of us talked over each other.

“Hey!” Dean’s face lit up as he looked past her. “Are those antique dolls? Cause this one,” he turned and picked his victim. “Sammy here’s got a major doll collection back home. Don’t ya?”

He gave Susan a polite smile that, hopefully, screamed murder to Dean. “Big time.”

“Big time. You think he could come, or we could come in and take a look?”

Susan shifted. “I don’t know…”

“Please?” Dean begged. “I mean, he loves them. He’s not gonna tell you this, but he’s uh, he’s always dressing em up in their tiny little outfits, and uh,” he shrugged, “honestly, you’d make his day. You- she would, huh?” He turned to Sam with a grin.

Sam looked sick. “It’s true.”

“Okay.” Susan stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“Alright! Alright.” Dean slapped Sam’s back as we trudged into the room.

Sam gave him another death glare and I pushed myself between the two as we looked around the room.

“Wow.” Dean hummed. “That’s a lot of dolls.” He feigned a smile. “I mean, they’re nice, ya know.” He looked down at me and mumbled. “Not super creepy at all.”

Susan laughed. “Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they’ve been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value.”

“What is this?” Sam was on the other end of the room, walking around a huge dollhouse. “The hotel?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Susan smiled. “Exact replica, custom built.”

Sam frowned and picked something up off the ground. “His head got twisted around.” He held a doll up so Dean and I could see.

Dean and I shared a look before turning to Susan.

“What happened to it?”

“Oh, Tyler, probably.”

We forced understanding smiles, and the second Susan turned her back, we gave each other bug eyes.

What the fuck?

“Mommy!” Tyler ran in. “Maggie’s being mean!”

“Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay.”

“Hey, Tyler.” Sam came over with a soft smile on his face. “I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?”

“I didn’t break it.” Tyler pouted. “I found it like that.”

“Oh.” Sam smiled wider. “Well, maybe Maggie did it.”

I sighed. Sometimes it broke my heart to know he’d never have a family of his own.

“No.” Tyler shook her head. “Neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke them.”

“Oh, Tyler.” Susan hummed. “She wouldn’t get mad.”

“Grandma?” Dean took a step forward.

“Grandma Rose. These were all her toys.”

“Oh, really?” Dean looked around. “Where’s Grandma Rose now?”

“Up in her room.”

“You know, I’d, I’d, uh, I’d really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll-”

“No.” Susan cut Sam off. “I mean, I’m afraid that’s impossible. My mother’s been very sick and she’s not taking any visitors.”

We were promptly ushered out of the room, and the door was shut behind us.

“What do you guys think?” Dean began. “Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?”

“Boys, I hate to say it, I really do. But I think we’re in a horror movie.”

Sam ran a hand over his face and Dean gave me a gentle push. “Every time you say that, something goes terribly wrong. Have you realized that?”

I frowned. “No. I just kinda say things.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, well dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo. Curses, binding spells…”

“Yeah, maybe we’ve found our witch doctor. Alright, I’ll see what I can go dig up on booming granny. You go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing. See if she’s whacked anybody before.”

***

“Jesus Christ.” I hissed as I shut the room door behind me, leaning on it.

Sam looked up, teary eyed. “What happened?”

“Uh… lawyer. He hung himself.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down. His shoulders began to shake, and I felt my heart soften.

“Sammy…”

He looked up, tears falling down in streaks. “Jessica was pregnant.”

I stopped cold. “What?”

He pushed his hair out of his face. “She was pregnant. Becky called me.”

“Becky… Becky from a year ago?”

He nodded. “She knew, and she never said a thing.”

“Hold on, Sammy…” I trailed off as I sat down on the table. “When?”

He looked away. “When…” He licked his lips and let out a strangled sob. “When she died.”

He began to weep, and I scrambled to my feet, pulling him into my chest. He gripped fistfuls of my jacket, and I ran a hand through his hair as the other held his shoulders tightly.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

“I couldn’t save the lawyer. I couldn’t even save Jess.” He whimpered.

“Sams, neither were your fault.”

“I was gonna be a dad.”

“I am so sorry, Sammy.” I pressed a long kiss to the top of his head and bit back my own tears.

“I should’ve done something.”

I rubbed his back. “Sams, there is nothing you could’ve done.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “I dreamt about it! I could’ve done something! I could’ve saved her! What if something happens to you? O-o-or to Dean? I’m useless.”

My heart shattered, and I cupped his face, bending down so that we were nose to nose.

“You are not useless. You’re my brother. Dean and I need you.”

He shook his head, pushing my hands away. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He stumbled to his feet, and I sighed as his breath hit my face. I grabbed his wrists and pulled him back.

“Sams, you’re drunk.”

“So? You think I won’t be able to go on a walk?” He challenged.

“No.” I whispered. “But I’m not gonna let you go out into a haunted hotel while you’re wasted.”

He huffed. “I just-”

“Do you need to be alone?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” I tugged him back toward his chair. “Stay here. I’ll go for a walk.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Okay?”

He nodded again as he dropped into his seat. I cupped his face again.

“I love you. Okay?”

He nodded.

“I’ll be back soon.” I kissed his head again before grabbing Jinx’s leash and calling her over.

She bolted out the door and sat in the hall. I looked over my shoulder to see Sam with his head in his hands. I sighed and shut the door.

***

Jinx yawned as she dropped to her stomach. I had walked her around the neighborhood, which was, like the hotel, creepy. It was picturesque, but the antique feeling was everywhere, and it was one I didn’t like.

Somebody started up the stairs, and I didn’t look up as I scooted over, trying to give them more space to walk.

“Sweetheart?”

I looked up to see Dean. I sighed.

“What happened? Where’s Sam?”

“Um…” I stood and avoided eye contact.

“Ol.” Dean craned his neck to catch my eye. “Why did I see a coroner’s van-”

“A lawyer hung himself.”

“Jesus.” Dean huffed.

“Look… Jess was pregnant.”

“What?”

“Jessica. When she died. She was pregnant. Sam just found out.”

Dean’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Wh…”

“Just cut him some slack. Okay?”

Dean huffed. “Fine. Come on.”

We trudged up the stairs and into the lobby in silence.

“Uh, hey.” Susan caught our attention. “I’m sure you heard about the lawyer… look, if you’d like to check out, I can give you a full refund.”

I shook my head. “No. Thanks.”

“We don’t scare that easily.” Dean pulled me to keep walking.

He led the way up the stairs and pushed the door open.

“There’s been another one. Lawyer hung himself.” He called into the room.

“We know.” Sam grunted.

I shut the door and flicked the lights on.

“We’ve gotta figure this out, and fast.” Dean huffed. “What’d you find out about Granny?”

“You’re bossy.” Sam snorted out.

I cursed to myself as Dean spun around. “What?”

“You’re bossy. And short.” Sam let out a sloppy laugh.

A glare formed on Dean’s face as he looked my way, then back at Sam. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah.” Sam laughed again. “So? Stupid.”

Dean looked around and spotted the empty bottles. His shoulders fell and he shook his head at me. I looked down at the ground.

“Dude. What are you thinking? We’re working a case.” Dean barked out.

Sam stared down at the ground, tearful again. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn’t save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t know. You couldn’t have done anything, Sam.

“That’s an excuse, Dean.” Sam huffed. “I should’ve found a way to save him. I should’ve saved Ava, too.”

Dean made a face, and I grabbed his wrist. “Hey. Slack. Remember? We’re cutting him some slack.”

Dean sighed and took a few steps toward Sam. “Well, you can’t save everyone. Even you said that.”

“No, Dean, you don’t understand!” Sam slammed the table. “The more people I save, the more I can change!”

My heart fell to my stomach.

“Change what, Sam?” Dean shook his head.

“My destiny, Dean!” Sam leaned forward, his hands on his chest

Dean sighed. “Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” He pulled Sam up by the shoulders. “Come on.”

“I need you to watch out for me.” Sam huffed as Dean pushed him toward the bed.

“I always do.”

“No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, alright? And if I ever…” Sam huffed again. “Turn into something that I’m not…”

My skin began to crawl, and Dean tilted his head.

“You have to kill me.” Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder, at me. “Either of you.”

“No!” I spat.

“Sam.” Dean’s tone was dismissive.

“Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

“Yeah, well, Dad was an ass.” Dean snarled.

Sam frowned, confusion washing over his face.

“He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

“No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become?” Sam whined. “Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Yeah, well, Olive and I aren’t dying, okay?”

“And neither are you.” I hissed as I helped Dean maneuver Sam onto the bed. “Come on, Sams.”

He sat on the bed, but he wouldn’t lay down. He grabbed Dean’s jacket and pulled him close. “No, Dean, please!” Sam whined again. “You’re the only one who can do it. Promise.”

“Don’t ask that of me.” Dean shook his head.

“Dean, please.” Sam begged. “You have to promise me.”

Dean looked away, and I caught his eye. I shook my head, eyes wide and full of tears. Dean sniffled, tears collecting in his own eyes.

“Don’t.” I hissed.

He looked back at Sam. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” Sam reached up to grab Dean’s face. “Thank you.”

Dean batted Sam’s hand away. I climbed onto the bed and pulled Sam to lay down as Dean lifted his legs onto the bed. Sam turned and planted his face onto my chest, wrapping both of his arms around me. I hugged him back and glared at Dean as he ran a hand over his face.

***

“Oh god.” Sam’s voice was hoarse.

“Sams?” I whispered.

He slowly rolled onto his back with a huff. “Oh fuck.”

“Hey.” I sat up and pushed his hair out of his face.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh. Oh god, oh no.” I hissed as he scrambled off the bed, stumbling his way to the bathroom.

He barely made it as he threw up. I groaned. Taking care of the boys while they were black out drunk was one thing, but hungover and throwing up was another story.

“Oh, bambi.” I whispered, helping him settle on his knees. “Come on, let’s take your jacket off.” I eased the denim fabric from his shoulders.

“Shit.” He groaned.

“Come on. Shoes, too.” I rubbed his shoulders.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” He fussed as he kicked his shoes off.

“You always take care of me.” I knelt by his side and brushed a thumb over his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

He gave me a soft smile, but it fell. His face drained of color, and he turned back to the toilet. I sighed as I rubbed his back. He spat into the toilet again. I shushed him soothingly.

“How are you feeling, Sammy?” Dean all but shouted as he entered the room, out of view.

Sam groaned before dry heaving. I stood up and crouched behind him, pulling his hair into a small ponytail. I tucked what didn’t stay behind his ears.

“I guess mixing whiskey and Jäger wasn’t such a gangbuster idea, huh?”

Sam ignored him.

“I’ll bet you don’t remember a single thing from last night, do you?” Dean asked, hope in his eyes.

I shot him a glare, and he cleared his throat. Sam only huffed before letting out another groan.

“No, I can still taste the fucking tequila.”

A relieved smile grew on Dean’s face, and I sighed as I rubbed Sam’s back again, sitting on the edge of the tub. He leaned down on his feet with a groan. I pulled the hand towel off the ring and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He dropped onto his butt and leaned into me, head hitting my chest. I cooed as I pushed stray hairs from his face.

“You know, there’s a really good hangover remedy.” Dean cracked a devilish grin.

“Dean.” I warned.

“It’s a, uh, it’s a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray.”

“Oh, I hate you.” Sam popped back to his knees to throw up.

“I know you do.” Dean laughed. “Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace.” He leaned in the doorway and huffed, waving the air in front of his nose. “God, it fucking stinks in here.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” I grumbled back.

“Whew.” Dean hummed. “Sometimes I forget you have better senses than we do.”

“Okay, you think the nanny taught Rose hoodoo?”

“Yes I do.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright.” Sam stumbled to his feet. “I think it’s time we’ve talked to Rose, then.”

His breath hit my face and I held back my own gag. “Oh, Sams.” I stepped back. “You’ve gotta brush your teeth first.”

***

“I’ll see you guys later.” I pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek, then to Dean’s.

“See you, baby.” Dean grinned.

“Love you, bug.” Sam gave me a kind smile.

“Love you guys too. Be safe.”

“Always, you too!” Dean called as I shut the car door and started across the parking lot.

I tugged on the straps of my backpack as I walked up the steps and into the school. I fished the crumpled schedule from my back pocket and sighed.

World geography.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see a blond boy my age smiling at me.

“Hi.” I feigned a smile back.

“Need help finding your classes? I moved here a few years ago, I’ve got the building pretty much down.” He chuckled.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Adam.” He held his hand out.

I shook it. “Olive.”

He chuckled. “Nice name.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Thanks. My brothers love food.”

“Brothers?” He repeated as we walked. “Yikes.”

I shook my head. “Nah. They’re good. You got any siblings?”

“I’m an only child.”

I let out a low whistle. “Sucks.”

***

“See ya around, Olive!” Adam waved.

I put a hand up. “See ya.”

“Hey, kid.” Dean grinned as he pulled up, windows down.

“Hey, De. Hi, Sams.” I slid into the backseat.

Jinx was curled up, and our bags were on the floor. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“What happened?”

“Oh, uh…”

“We got kicked out.”

“What?” My eyes widened as I looked up. “How? Why?”

“Susan caught us trying to talk to Rose.”

“Oh god.” I rolled my eyes.

“Look, she had a stroke. There’s no way she was practicing hoodoo.”

I sighed and leaned forward as Dean drove off. “Then what’s happening at the hotel?”

The boys shook their heads. I sighed again.

“Let’s go back.”

“What?”

“We can’t, sweetie.”

“Yes we can.” I scoffed.

“How?” Dean eyed me in the rearview.

I shrugged. “Easy. I’ll just tell her you guys forgot to pack some of my stuff. She seemed to like me. She’ll let me back in.”

The boys shared a brief look, and Dean sighed. “Fine. Ten minutes, in and out.”

I grinned. “Works for me.”

***

“Is that…” Sam squinted and leaned forward.

“Shit, Dean, stop the car!” I squeaked.

He slammed the brakes, and I pushed the door open before taking off in a sprint, tackling Susan out of the way. The car crashed into the tree on the edge of the playground and Susan panted as we sat up.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I think so.”

“Come on, come on.” Dean and Sam came scrambling.

I got to my feet, and my knee slipped out from under me. I crashed onto my ass with a grumble. Dean sighed and plucked me off the ground as Sam helped Susan up.

“Inside, let’s go.”

Sam led the way, guiding Susan by the shoulders. She huffed as we walked into the dining room.

“Whiskey.” She sat down.

“Sure.” Sam scoffed. “I know the feeling.”

Susan looked up as Dean eased me into a seat at the table. I hissed as he knelt down, rubbing my knee.

“What the fuck happened out there?” Susan demanded.

Sam and I blinked, and Dean popped my knee. I let out a curse as I shot up straight, tears in my eyes.

“You want the truth?” Dean asked.

“Of course!”

“Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there?” Dean let out a whistle. “That was definitely a spirit.”

Sam handed her a glass of whiskey before sitting down next to me.

Susan stared. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, it’s been said.” Dean hummed.

I shifted in my seat, trying to straighten my leg out. “Look, I’m sorry, Susan, but we don’t exactly have time to ease you into this. We need to know when your mother had the stroke.”

“What does that have to do-”

“Just answer the question.” Sam cut her off.

“Uh, about a month ago.”

“Right before the killings began.” Sam mumbled before looking at me and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

I sighed. “She was using the five-spots to ward off the spirit.”

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Until she had a stroke and she couldn’t anymore.”

“I don’t believe this.” Susan shook her head.

“Listen, sister, that car didn’t try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can… forget it.”

“Look, you can believe whatever you the fuck you want to. But the fact is that you and your family are in danger. Okay? So you need to clear everyone out of here. Your employees, your mother, your kids, everyone.”

“Uh… I only have one daughter.”

Sam squinted. “One?”

“I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie?” Dean tilted his head.

Susan scoffed. “Maggie’s imaginary.”

Sam’s jaw twitched, Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and I buried my hands in my head.

“Mother fucker.”

“Where’s Tyler?”

Susan’s eyes went wide before she bolted. We scrambled over each other’s feet, following her up the stairs and to her private room. She struggled with the door before pushing it open.

“Tyler!”

The floor was littered with broken dolls. Sam and Dean gave each other a look.

“Oh my god. Tyler!” Susan ran through another door, calling for her daughter.

I ducked, checking under furniture as the boys tore through the closets. Susan came back, running.

“She’s not here!”

“Okay, okay. Susan. Susan.” Sam grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell us what you know about Maggie.”

“Um, not much. Tyler’s been talking about her ever since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?”

“Uh, no!”

“Think, think.” Dean pressured. “I mean, somebody that could’ve lived here?”

“Maybe someone who passed away?” I offered.

“Oh my god.” Susan’s face drained of color. “My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her.”

The three of us shared a look.

“Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?”

“Yeah, she drowned in the pool.”

Dean made a face as he began to move. “Come on.”

***

Dean ran ahead, and Sam and I followed, Susan only a few steps behind. The dead garden seemed more eerie now than it had before. Sam reached the door first, trying to unlock it. It didn’t budge. Tyler was on the edge of the balcony inside, only a slip away from falling into the pool.

“Tyler!” Susan called.

Dean and Sam pounded on the glass, trying to break it.

“Mommy!” Tyler squealed.

She fell in with a scream.

“Tyler!”

“Is there another entrance?” Dean asked.

“Around back.”

“Okay, come on.” Dean pulled Susan away before turning to us. “Keep working.”

Sam and I continued to elbow the door, and I let out a grunt as I slammed my shoulder against the frame. It didn’t budge. Sam groaned, looking around. He stopped before grabbing something. He pushed me aside before slamming a pot into the door. The glass began to crack, and Sam began to work harder. He finally got through, the door shattering. He jammed himself through and, without hesitation, leapt over the railing, into the pool.

“Sam!” I squeaked as I ran in, leaning over the railing.

He wasted no time pushing past the plastic cover. I watched as he swam toward Tyler before scooping her up in his arms. I bolted down the steps, reaching his side. I pulled Tyler from his arms and set her down on her side. Sam clambered out of the pool as Dean and Susan burst in. I patted Tyler’s back, and she coughed. Sam helped me push her up to sit, and Susan pulled her into a bear hug.

“Mommy.” She whined.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.” Susan cried.

“Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?” Sam gave her sympathetic eyes.

“No, she’s gone.” She snuggled back into Susan. “Mommy.”

***

“Don’t worry, honey, we’re leaving in two minutes. We’ve just got to get Grandma.” Susan cooed as she held Tyler against her side, moving up the stairs.

“I don’t get it.” Dean hissed. “Did Maggie just stop?”

“Seems like it.” Sam shrugged, hair dripping.

“Well, where the hell did she go?” I asked.

Susan screamed from upstairs. Sam reacted first, bolting up the steps. Dean and I followed. Sam busted through the door. Susan was holding Tyler against her side, crying. The three of us sighed when we saw Rose slumped in her wheelchair.

She was dead.

***

“Paramedics said it was another stroke. Do you think… Margaret could’ve had something to do with it?” Susan asked.

“We don’t know.” Dean shrugged.

“But, it’s possible.” I followed up, tugging on Jinx’s leash so that she would sit.

Sam sighed. “Susan, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve given me everything.”

Tyler came down the steps, dressed in regular clothing. She had a small smile on her face as she joined her mother. Susan rubbed her back, and Tyler bent down to pet Jinx.

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, Tyler.” Dean bent down to be eye-level with her. “You’re sure Maggie’s not around anymore?”

“I’m sure.” Tyler nodded. “I’d see her.”

“I guess whatever’s going on must be over.” Dean shrugged as we followed Susan down the steps, to her taxi.

Sam held the door open for her, and Susan ushered Tyler into the cab.

“You two take care of yourselves, alright?”

Susan turned and pulled Sam into a hug, resting her head on his chest. Dean snorted, and I wheezed, pulling on a serious face and rubbing my nose when Susan pulled back.

“Thank you.” She looked at Sam, then at Dean and I. “All of you.”

We nodded as she shuffled into the taxi. Sam shut the door behind her and I laughed, covering my mouth.

“Dude, you could’ve just gotten some total MILF action.” I giggled as we began to walk.

“Ew, Ollie-”

“No, seriously, bud, I think she liked you.”

“Yeah.” Sam scoffed. “That’s all she needs.”

“Well, you saved the mom, saved the girl.” I patted Sam’s arm. “Not a bad day, bubs.”

“Course, I could’ve saved them myself, but I didn’t want you to feel useless.” Dean teased.

My heart sank as I remembered what Sam had said last night.

“Appreciate it.” Sam gave Dean a bitch face.

He sensed my shift in attitude and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side.

“Feels good getting back in the saddle. Doesn’t it?” Dean grinned and pulled out the car keys.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Yeah, it does.” He took his arm back and braced his hands against the top of the car. “But it doesn’t change what we talked about last night, Dean.”

My chest clenched and tears immediately welled in my eyes. I looked down and away, taking a shaky breath. I opened the back door and let Jinx settle in.

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean tried to change the subject.

“You know what I mean.” Sam shook his head.

“You were wasted.” Dean scowled.

“But you weren’t. And you promised.” Sam shot back.

They looked at each other for a beat. Sam pulled the passenger door open first, and I slid into the middle seat, wrapping my arms around myself. Sam got in, slamming the door shut as Dean closed his, gently.

He started the car and glanced Sam’s way. Sam kept his eyes straight ahead as we pulled away from the inn.

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