#one needs some free brain space to joke around

[blood-orange-juice]

One thing I have to constantly stop myself from when writing Childe is giving him witty one-liners.

He doesn't do those. At all. He isn't witty. English translation added a bit of that but he really isn't. Also this guy finds the cocogoat joke funny.

[remotewatch]

make that mfer BAM 💥🥣

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1k wc

Summary: Jack doubts his speechwriting skills. You tug that nonsense right out of him.

cws: emergency handjob, food play, cum eating, he cum in he got damn soup idk what else to tell ya !! dear readers please make sure you’re registered to vote and do try to get involved with the Harris campaign in any way you can (it’s what Jack would want, after all 😁)

hats off to my darling editor @mystardustmelodyyy as always 🩵🗳️

minors dni in fact don’t even glance at it

Light-footed staff weave around your path as you track the length of the house to check on tonight’s finishing touches. Your shoes clack against the mirror-polished foyer tile in time with the cadence of your speech repetition.

A text had just come in from your assistant: everyone was having a splendid time, they were on their way to your place now, and a smidge of traffic might push the start of dinner back, ten minutes at the most. Everything was falling into place, but you couldn’t turn down a free moment to go over your words one last time.

“As you all know, my grandparents were lifelong patrons of the arts… honored to present our new exhibition at my fiancé’s library… we thank you all for your generous…” you lose your train of thought when you spot Jack pacing frantically in an alcove, hands twitching as he stifles reflexive hang loose signs. He jolts at the hand you place on his shoulder and defaults to an uncharacteristically strained smile when he sees it’s you.

“How’s the rehearsal going?��

“Well, I think I hate it.” He bites a knuckle and squints exasperatedly at the tiny font on his phone. “There’s so many jokes in here. Why?!” Jack getting cold feet was the only thing you hadn’t planned for; usually he’s the one swooping in when you’re in such a state. There’s absolutely no time for rewrites, so you need to shut this shit down before he decides to start editing anyway. You squeeze his shoulder a little bit, and his head snaps up to see your most convincing faux-worried face.

“Can you help me with one thing real quick, and then we can get it sorted?”

That breaks him out of the fog long enough for you to drag him through the dining room and into the kitchen abuzz with steam and roving caterers.

A curt “Out!” scatters them, and then it’s just you two and the gentle hum of the convection ovens. You guide Jack over to where tonight’s soup is already plated, then to his bowl placed off to the side, accompanied by a post it stuck to the counter: “JS NO SWEET POTATO”.

He’s still lost in thought as you nudge him closer and move behind him.

“I already tasted it, it’s fine,” he mumbles as you start undoing his pants. His voice trails to a sigh when you take his cock out.

“You loved that speech all last week. What’s going on now?”

“I just-“ he doesn’t comment when you start stroking him, but you can feel the muscles in his back loosen slightly, and some of the tension leaks out of his voice. “I really want this to go well for us.”

Your unoccupied hand slides up his lapel and grasps his to stop the fumbling with his tie.

“It’s already going well, and we’re going to keep it that way.” His brow is still furrowed, but that cute little fuzzy edge his voice gets when you take control is seeping in.

“Won’t they be here soon?”

“Not for at least twenty minutes.” The slippery noises your movements make as he starts to leak echo off all the stainless steel and sound almost amplified in the empty space. It’s just warm enough in the kitchen for your brain to flirt with the idea of calling the whole thing off and spending the night here. “Don’t worry. I won’t let the clock run out on you.”

You can feel his grip on his doubts loosening with every deliberate stroke, and soon he’s bucking into your hand as much as the space between you and the counter will let him.

Jack’s posture sags as he relaxes against you, the sudden movement nearly bobbing him close enough to dip his tip into the soup.

“Keep moving around like that and you’ll burn yourself.”

“Sorry.” He sounds a million miles away from the ball of nerves you found a few minutes ago.

“On your toes. You’re making a mess.” And he does, of course, so you have a proper angle to aim him down at the bowl and prevent the twin rivulets of precum from sliding down your wrist onto his trousers. His mouth falls open when the first drops break the surface tension.

“That’s all I want you to focus on. You know you’ll do well, I know you’ll do well, just do this for me, okay?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Say it for me,” you croon softly into his ear, watching the goosebumps blossom down his neck when your lips graze it.

Jack’s head slumps to the side for a better look at you, but his irises are wandering like bumblebees and working against him.

“I’m focusing.” he slurs.

“I know, I know.” Your hand speeds up to match his breathing as he white knuckles the counter. It’s hard to keep your wrist steady when you feel his ass start tightening up.

“It’s gonna make a mess,” he gasps out.

“No it won’t. Stay still for me. You’ve got this. I know you do.”

Jack’s whole body tenses up, and his protests fade into little pants at your ambiguous encouragement. He throbs in your hand one, two, three, four times as you hold him just a whisper above the steaming bowl. No splash; the rest of him is trembling with the effort, but his hips stay locked in place to neatly spill into his meal.

As soon as his heels are back on solid ground, you’re stretching up to kiss right above his eyebrow. A hand cradling his jaw eases him back to reality.

“It’s a great speech.”

“It’s a great speech.” He can't stop himself from smiling, finally relaxed enough to let it reach his eyes.

-at the table-

From the beginning you’d insisted Jack should speak after you; he was much better at settling everyone into dinner conversation following your more formal remarks. Of course, your guests are utterly captivated by him; he manages to get even your sternest donors chuckling in under five minutes. So captivated, in fact, that you’re free to ogle at him from the other end of the table without worry. You’re crossing and recrossing your legs watching his mouth move, realizing for the first time tonight how fucking hungry you are. When the soup is served, you scarcely blink watching his first mouthful. He stares back just as entranced, completely forgetting his table manners and using his thumb to swipe an errant drop into his mouth.

[queenie-avenue]

Charming Demon Belle!

—> he expresses interest in you.

⤻ reader is female, reader's race/animal theme is not specified, reader is a bit insecure, alastor is a semi-sweetheart in this one, fluff, no canon-typical violence, dancing but it's not jazz *gasp*

notes: this fic was honestly a bit rushed, but i do really love alastor as a character and really wanted to write a fic for him but i currently do not have the time to invest in one idea i have for a longform fic so here's something small. feel free to post asks for alastor, or any other hazbin character, i would love to write your ideas!

💌 ⤻ archives.

You had been at the Hotel for a few months now, working on those trust exercises that Charlie persuaded — forced — you to join in. You loved the girl, but you found her methods to be a bit too idealistic at times. Especially since during your time as a human, you saw just how cruel life could actually be.

Still, you joined in because you came to love the girl. You came to love the rest of the staff and visitors too.

Whenever you came back to the Hotel after a long day of doing whatever, there Husker was with your favourite cocktail or Angel would be there to crack his stupid jokes and innuendos that would always make you huff out a laugh no matter how tired you were. Vaggie was a fun person to be around. There was quite a bit of anger in her, but you couldn't help but like how assertive she could be. You honestly admired her for being such a strong woman, something you thought you could never be. Charlie was just a ray of sunshine and though Nifty was weird, you found her almost endearing, just like Sir Pentious and his nerdy displays.

There was one person you could never calm yourself around though and it was the host of the Hotel.

Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Perhaps it was his reputation that made you feel so uncomfortable around him, but you refrained from speaking to him as much as you could. Those eyes and that never-ending smile seemed to follow you wherever you went, though, and you found that wherever you went, he was there just waiting.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

The Hotel was practically empty by the time afternoon hit. Husk was out getting more things for the bar alongside Nifty, who needed to buy more materials for cleaning. Angel Dust was at work. Charlie and Vaggie seemed to be on a date, of some sorts, encouraged by you as they seemed to be rather stressed these few days because of the upcoming Extermination.

As for Alastor... probably up in his radio tower.

And for you? You were lounging on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, scrolling through various television channels and hoping to find one that would entertain you for long enough.

"Hello, my dear!" The static-filled voice almost made you fall off the couch as you looked up to see the Radio Demon standing over you. "What are you doing?" Alastor inquired, looking at you before his gaze shifted to the TV in front of you, his eyes narrowing in what appeared to be annoyance. "Oh, you're watching a picture box, how quaint." He attempted to remain cordial in his speech, but it was clear he wanted to wreck that television.

He reached for the remote and pressed a few buttons. "What are you doing?" This time, it was your turn to question him.

"Turning off this pesky little thing, dear! You know, too much of this," he pointed his cane at the TV, "rots your brain!" He chuckled as he finally pressed the correct button to turn it off.

"You should get off the couch and get some exercise. Today is far too nice of a day to be wasted on such idle activities." He grinned wider as he his clawed hands grabbed yours and dragged you up.

"H-hey!" You yelled, shocked by the sudden touch. Despite the fact Alastor hated someone invading his personal space, he seemed to love to invade others.

"I know you don't like to exercise, so I have come up with a rather fun activity for us to partake in." Your eyes widened at his words. What in Hell's name did he mean by that? You had seen what Alastor viewed as 'fun' and you were now worried. He snapped his fingers as he dragged you to the middle of the lobby, a radio materialising on the bar desk as it began to loudly play some jazz music. "Some dancing ought to do the trick." He smiled.

"Um, Alastor." You peeped, "I'm glad you want to do an... activity with me. But I don't know how to dance. Let alone dance for some jazz music." You grinned awkwardly up at him as he looked down at you and tutted his lips.

"Ah, no worries." He grinned as he snapped his fingers again, causing the music on the radio to shift from jazz to classical. "We can start slow, of course. I could never force a lady to do something she didn't like." Well, that was ironic, considering what he was doing now.

"Hold on." He grinned as he grabbed your waist, using his other hand to guide yours to his shoulders. Without being able to respond, he dragged you across the floor.

"One, and a two. One and a two." He demonstrated how his feet moved about the floor, forcing you to follow against his steps as he swirled you about the hall. "See, you're already getting a hang of it." You couldn't help but smile at his words.

"Heh, yeah I guess I am." You grew more relaxed as you looked up at Alastor and his toothy grin and ash face.

He grinned wider. "I'm so glad that you are starting to feel comfortable around me, my darling." He expressed as he spun you around. "I was simply so hurt when I saw you interacting with the others but not me." He pulled you closer to his chest, "Might I ask why?" Alastor asked, the static filter on his voice disappearing slightly to reveal his human voice.

"I guess we just have personality clashes?" You tried to lie, not wanting to admit that you were intimidated and scared witless thanks to this demon, especially with the way he stalked you in the shadows at times.

"Haha!" He laughed comically. "My, what an intriguing assumption, my dear Belle!" He exclaimed as he spun you around and dipped you down. "I think we have more in common than you think."

"Like what?" You gasped out as he held you down, your hair brushing against the floor as you gazed up at him.

"Well, we're both sinners."

You deadpanned at his explanation. "That's it?"

"Well, there's certainly more, but why not leave it up for us to discover?" He suggested with a grin before pulling you up, slamming your face into his chest. Alastor gripped your chin in his sharp hands, his smile growing more sinister.

"I would certainly love to know more about you." His smile grew brighter, his eyes glimmering with a hint of intrigue and desire.

Shit, somehow that was the only thought running through your mind.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Boyfriends to Have Boyfriends Headcanons, pt 3

I loooooovvvvveeeeee himmmmmmm, your honor. I’ll do my best to have the brain demon make it around to everyone and then maybe all together LETS NOT GET TOO AMBITIOUS

Part 1, Part 2

—

John had the home court advantage here, as he was the one YOU had a crush on first. As previously stated, John wanted to give you space initially. Him being a captain full tilt was described as intense to some. And as much as he convinced himself he didn’t care about all that “misogyny” business (he treats all his people the same, why should you get special treatment), he truly didn’t want to scare you. He’s heard the horror stories of women in the military, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to be a source of any of your discomfort. Let Ghost and his scary demeanor take the heat for that one.

But god did he want to get his hands on you. You made his boys laugh, you were a crack shot in the field, good under pressure. You wore those low cut tops whenever they went to the pub, lingering to give him a hug when the others were leaving. You had that little habit of catching him in his office late at night, asking if he needed anything else. Lastly, your pretty little face. The little smirk you give him when he asks you to blow something up or cause trouble. That little panic that shoots through it when he talks just a little too close and towers over you. That’s the face he sees when he’s jerking his dick furiously when you leave his office. The bags under his eyes and grown out beard is what he sees in the mirror afterwards, realizing he’s going to have to take action.

—-

A bribe to Gaz here, a perusal through your email there, he bought a ticket to a show nearby when you all were on leave. Didn’t peg you to go to punk shows, but here we were. Recon was the most important part of any mission after all, and you were no different. He almost felt nervous, “bumping” into you. He would have been more enamored with the bloodcurdling fear running through your veins if he weren’t looking at how beautiful you were. Your hair was big and curly and natural, much different than what you had to maintain on base. You smelled like heaven, god you were glowing. Couldn’t be fucked to pretend what you were saying, just interrupted with “let me buy you a drink.” Those soft plush lips split into a smile.

He succeeded in not breaking most of his beer bottles in his fist, fighting tooth and nail to not let the ball of tension in his stomach overtake him. It took you a couple songs to relax, but a couple drinks later and you were slapping him in the chest after a joke. Letting him be your enforcer in the crowd, letting you lean into him. Feeling his hand land on your lower back, creeping under the little mesh jacket and crop top you were wearing.

What he wouldn’t have was your self doubt getting the better of you come time to leave. Both buzzed, you were looking at your feet, having the audacity to apologize to him in the parking lot, about how you “weren’t professional” and that you’d “understand if you needed to be reassigned.” He felt the relief wash over him as he let himself off of his own leash, pushing you against the side of his truck. Crowding around you, he leaned his elbow next to your head and took your jaw into his free hand. His eyes roamed your face as he felt your pulse skip in his hands, a stray tear running down. “Let it out, sweetheart. Need you to hear what I have to say.” Your hands held onto his chest and jacket as you hiccuped and cried quietly, unable to look away.

He finally let you break gaze once you caught your breath, keeping a gentle but firm grasp around your jaw, leaning in close to your ear so you’d feel his breath on your neck. “Now, if you think I’d let anyone get their hands on you after this, you’re sorely mistaken love. I’d take their hands before they’d finish the fucking paperwork. You think you’ve been subtle, here. But you’ve been mine for a while. I know Gaz likes the more direct approach, but I knew my good girl knew where home was. She just needed to get there.” He takes a moment to adjust his stance, grabbing you just a little tighter.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take you back to mine. I’m gonna let you get comfortable, then I’m gonna eat your pretty little cunt until you can’t remember what anxiety feels like.” He brings his lips to your temple and gives you a gentle kiss. “And then after, I’ll let you earn the rest. Can’t reward you for winding me up this long now can I? Sound good princess?” He finishes in a whisper.

Slackjawed and wide-eyed, your pulse quickened, your fingers fussed, and your head nodded.

“Good girl.”

[amazingmsme]

Chin Up, Brother

AN: My first epic fic & I couldn’t be happier! These boys deserve to goof off & have fun, they’re so damn silly at their core. All Polites wants to do is cheer up their captain & he pays the ultimate price. Odysseus is such a teasy bastard, I can’t get over it

Polites can't stand seeing a sour face, especially when concerning his friends. Some days are better than others, with most of the crew in high spirits, but as time drags on, it gets harder and harder to make his friends smile.

Ever since returning from their successful ambush attack, Odysseus hadn't been himself. There was a vacancy behind his eyes; something tense in his stride. Polites couldn't stand seeing him like this.

Of course, he knew that their captain needed time to process... well, everything. But he was practically a walking zombie, going through the motions of life as his mind lingered elsewhere. If he were being honest, Polites missed the old Odysseus: the one who constantly teased and joked with his men, who checked in when he noticed they were upset. But being a captain, there was an invisible line the others didn't dare cross, which meant that his own needs went ignored.

"I don't know Eurylochus, he just seems so sad," he lamented, staring at their friend from afar. He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

"We all are. He just... has more on his plate than the rest of us," he tried to reason. Polites looked up at him with wide, soft brown eyes.

"Well then, maybe we should help him eat it!" he declared. Eurylochus scoffed and furrowed his brows in confusion, lips tugging upwards into an amused grin.

"Come again?"

Polites rolled his eyes and giggled, shoving his shoulder playfully. "Shut up, you know what I'm trying to say."

Eurylochus threw an arm around his shoulders, guiding him away from their sullen captain. "Just give him some time Polites. He'll be back to himself in no time," he reassured. Polites looked over his shoulder with a frown, dipping out from under his arm and stood blocking his path. Eurylochus looked shocked, but more than that, he looked impressed.

"But we're his friends! We should at least try to cheer him up!" he insisted. Eurylochus heaved a sigh.

"Polites, you need to remember he's our captain first, and our friend second. Let him have his space."

"I think he's had enough space!" he argued, causing his friend to roll his eyes. "You know he'd do the same for us," he said, his tone softer.

"It's his job-"

"Well then, it's our job as his friends to return the favor!" he said, returning to his chipper self. Eurylochus spared a glance at their captain manning the wheel, Polites following his gaze.

Odysseus had been watching them from where he stood, wondering what they were talking about. He tensed when he noticed them looking his way, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Polites smiled at him and waved. Odysseus didn't wave back.

Eurylochus sighed, knowing he had a point. "What did you have in mind?"

Polites hummed in thought, tapping his chin as he searched his brain for ideas. A bright smile stretched across his face as he turned to face him. "He's ticklish, right?" he asked, mischief beginning to overshadow his innocence.

Eurylochus immediately shook his head, eyes flying wide open. "No!"

Polites smirked and arched a brow. "Um, I'm pretty sure everyone's ticklish somewhere," he said, as if it were obvious. Eurylochus shook his head once more, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"I mean no, he'll kill you for even trying," he tried to warn, but Polites literally laughed him off.

"You know, you really need to learn to relax. Heh, maybe I should tickle you," he teased, reaching out to poke his side. Eurylochus jerked away with a yelp, grabbing onto his wrist after the fact. "Oh? Did I strike a nerve?" he taunted, poking him with his free hand. He choked back a laugh as he caught his other hand, staring him down with a warning look.

"Polites... don't. I'm trying to save you."

He snorted in amusement, dropping his hands to the side. Eurylochus let him go. "Save me from what? Our big, scary captain?" he joked, snickering at the mere thought. Odysseus wouldn't hurt a hair on his head! What was Eurylochus so worried about? He really needed to learn how to relax.

"Fine. It'll be your funeral."

"Oh lighten up Eurylochus!" he said as he headed towards the stairs, pausing to turn and point at him. "Or you'll be next," he winked before breaking off into giggles and rushing up the steps.

He watched him leave, fondly shaking his head. "Yeah, wouldn't count on it," he mumbled to himself, deciding he might as well get a good seat for the show that was surely about to start.

Polites skipped up the last few steps, walking with a bounce in his step that wasn't necessarily out of character, but it did catch Odysseus's attention.

"Hey Captain! How's she handling?" he asked, walking up from behind and clapping a hand on his shoulder. Odysseus studied him from the corner of his eye, growing skeptical.

"Um, fine.”

"Good, good," he nodded, trying to buy himself some time. "Looks like clear skies ahead," he continued with the idle small talk.

Odysseus sighed and turned to look at him, the deep circles under his eyes prominent. "What do you want, Polites?" he asked. He sounded annoyed and tired. Polites frowned. He hesitated before resting a hand on his shoulder, but even the soft touch seemed to startle him. He'd have to tread carefully.

"I want to know how you're holding up," he said earnestly. Odysseus shied away from his gaze, turning back to the open ocean that lay ahead.

"I'm fine," he said, his clenched jaw making his words sound harsh. His tone made Polites flinch back, holding his hands up in a placating motion. Odysseus regretted it almost instantly.

"Is that all you know how to say? Fine?" he asked, a playful, sheepish grin toying at the corner of his mouth. Odysseus felt himself fighting off a smile of his own at his friend's antics.

"Oh I could say a lot more. I'm just sparing you," he snarked.

"You don't have to. I'm always here if you need to talk," he insisted.

"Okay Polites," he huffed, bending his knees slightly and leaning back on the first word to emphasize his point, and yeah, Polites didn't appreciate the level of sass. Any hesitation he had about what he was about to do, Odysseus squashed it with that remark.

Eurylochus had made his way to the upper deck and sat down, untangling a mass of rope and knots to appear at least somewhat busy. His eyes were glued to the pair, wondering just how this would play out.

"Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he teased, crossing his arms. He noticed the way Odysseus bit back a smile.

"Careful. Did you forget who you're talking to?" he asked pointedly, arching a brow. Polites was practically beaming.

"Not at all, Captain," he spoke in his usual friendly manner, but with an uncharacteristic amount of sarcasm towards the end. Odysseus scoffed, mouth hanging open at the sheer audacity.

Polites glanced at Eurylochus and shot him a wink before gasping loudly, pointing in front of Odysseus and off to the side. "Wow, a pod of whales!"

Some men on the lower deck must've heard him, because a few rushed over to the rail to catch a glimpse. And just as he predicted, Odysseus turned to look. Now or never.

"Ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka!" he cried, scribbling his fingers over his sides and tweaking his ribs.  Odysseus honest to the Gods shrieked before a few deep belly laughs escaped. He tucked his arms close and doubled over, jerking the wheel to a hard right before letting go, and causing everyone to stumble and slide across the deck.

"Polites!" he scolded as said man was lost to a fit of bright, bubbly laughter. Odysseus scrambled to grab the wheel and right the ship, blushing profusely while simultaneously glaring daggers at his supposed "friend." Meanwhile the men below were yelling their own complaints, talking over each other and grumbling.

Polites wiped away a tear of mirth, patting him on the back before pulling him into a one armed hug. And okay, he couldn't help but shove his hand under his arm and poke his belly with the other. Odysseus snorted and tensed up, deep, rumbly giggles slipping past his clenched teeth before Polites finally relented.

"Ah, it's good to hear you laugh again Captain. No hard feelings," he said, going as far as to ruffle his hair before turning to leave.

"And just where do you think you're going?" The dark, even tone made Polites stop dead in his tracks.

A cold chill ran down his spine and he turned to face him. He caught sight of a smug, not very sympathetic Eurylochus. To make matters worse, he returned his wink from earlier.

"U-um, back to work?" he said weakly. Odysseus shook his head and let out a downright sinister chuckle. Before this moment, he didn't even know a laugh could be scary.

"After that? I don't think so." He took a step forward, and Polites took three steps back.

"I-I was just trying to cheer you up!" he pleaded, eyes wide.

"Really? Wow, I never would've guessed that," he mocked, letting his voice start to take on a teasing edge. "But how about I repay the favor?" he asked, voice dropping lower as he let the smirk he'd been holding back overtake his features.

"No thanks!" he was quick to say, foot already on the first step down.

"No, really. I insist."

Polites opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words.

"Eurylochus?"

Said man perked up at the sound of his name, and he suddenly felt nervous hearing it thrown out amidst the altercation. "Yes sir?"

"Take the wheel."

He smirked to himself and nodded dutifully as he stood.

"Yes sir."

Polites wasted no time, rushing down the stairs as fast as he could. Unfortunately, mistakes were made and he ended up in a crumbled heap at the bottom. Odysseus peered down from the railing that overlooked the deck. "You okay down there?"

Polites gave a weak thumbs up.

The sound of fast, heavy footsteps above him kicked him into high gear and he scrambled to his feet. Odysseus took the stairs two at a time, vaulting over the rail and jumping on the deck once he was close enough. Polites was weaving through the thin crowd, desperately trying to make it to the crows nest. Maybe if he climbed up there, he could just stay there until Odysseus forgot all about it.

And then his face hit the deck for a second time.

He immediately began pleading his case as Odysseus rolled him onto his back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, it'll never happen again!" He thrashed and squirmed trying to escape, but Odysseus had him thoroughly trapped. "Please, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!"

Odysseus threw his head back with a hearty laugh. "Oh Polites, you're so funny. A little tickling never killed anyone," he taunted, leaning in with a feral grin. Polites squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to dam the giggles that were already making an appearance.

"N-not yet!" he whined, drawing another low chuckle from the captain.

"Oh, you plan on being the first?" he taunted, tongue peaking out between his teeth as he grinned down at him. Then, as if to rub it in further, he laughed at his own joke and began cracking his knuckles. Polites giggled nervously, legs scrambling for purchase on the deck as he tried to get away.

"Nohoho! Let me gohoho! I'm sohohorry!"

"Laughing already? Maybe you should've thought this through," he said, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.

"Odysseus, plehehease! Dohon't!" Polites tried to plead his case one last time. The captain smirked, cocking his head at his friend.

"Don't what, Polites?" he asked, feigning cluelessness. Or was he going for innocence? It was kind of hard to tell.

Now, Odysseus was known for being sly and tricky. From his place at the wheel, Eurylochus saw the trap for what it was. Polites on the other hand, wasn't in a place to scrutinize his friend's intent. He answered almost immediately, "Tickle me!"

In all honesty, Odysseus wasn't sure he'd fall for it or not. He couldn't be happier.

Polites yelped and flinched when Odysseus fell forward in a fit of laughter, resting his forehead on Polites's chest. His shoulders shook with the force of his laughter before he sat up straight. Polites opened his mouth to speak, but froze when he saw the downright predatory look Odysseus was giving him.

"Polites, Polites, Polites..." he shook his head and patted his cheek each time he addressed him. Said man whined, twisting his head away from the patronizing hand.

"W-why're you saying it like that?" he asked nervously. Odysseus stared at him in awe.

"You don't even realize what you just said, do you?" Realization washed over Polites, his eyes going wide. Odysseus's smirk only grew as he watched it dawn on his friend.

"No wait, that's not what I meant! I was answering your question!"

"You really ought to use your words more carefully," he warned before digging in. He latched onto his hips, drilling circles with his thumbs. Polites immediately burst into loud, bubbly laughter as he slapped at his hands.

"Y-you trihihicked mehehe!" he cried, as if that fact would make him stop.

"Yeah, and it was easy. Seriously, you walked right into that one buddy," he taunted, slipping his hands under his shirt to scribble over his bare stomach. Polites snorted, trying to roll on his side. His laughter grew deeper and more full as one of his worst spots was targeted.

"NOHOHO! Cahahaptain, not there! Not thehehehere! Plehease!" he begged, thrashing as much as he could, though mostly he was fighting to curl into the tightest ball possible to protect his sensitive tummy. Odysseus slowed his movements, drumming his fingers impatiently to keep him giggling, broken up by the occasional hiccup.

"Alright tough guy, then where?"

Polites managed to grab his hands by interlocking their fingers and shoved them back as he caught his breath. "W-whahat?"

"You said not there... so, where should I tickle instead?" he asked, the happiest, smuggest grin gracing his lips. Oh Polites hated him right now.

"Nowhere!"

"Sorry, I'm afraid I can't accept that answer."

"Why ahare you being soho mean?" he whined, trying to work his way free. Odysseus decided to let him think he had a chance.

"You made me almost capsize the ship!" Okay, maybe that was an over exaggeration, but he could have made them capsize. And that would've been a tough one to explain to the rest of the fleet.

Polites rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, "You're the one who jerked the wheel..." Apparently he didn't mutter quiet enough.

Odysseus scoffed, mouth hanging open. "Excuse me?" Polites froze, mouth snapping shut. "Care to repeat that?" He shook his head frantically. "No, say it again. I don't think I heard you correctly," he said, slipping out of his grip with ease and poking all over his stomach.

"Plehehease! This ihisn't fahair!" he giggled, propping himself up weakly on his elbows, trying to crawl out from where he was pinned.

"No, what's not fair is tickling me in front of everyone, while I'm busy doing a very important task, no less" he insisted, trying to come off as stern, but he was smiling far too wide.

"It wahas just five seconds, Captain," Polites chuckled, arching a brow playfully. He just didn't know when to quit, did he?

"Oh yeah? Then I guess you deserve five minutes."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, you can handle it. Five minutes is nothing," Odysseus shrugged casually, but the look in his eyes was that of a pure feral mischief.

Polites looked at him in utter shock. "No, five minutes is five minutes!"

"Always so eloquent," he taunted, wiggling a finger between his ribs. Polites barked out a laugh, twisting away. Of course, he only jerked into the other hand, delivering a nibbling pinch to his lower ribs. "Now shut up and laugh."

"That's contradictoRYYYYY!" Polites broke off into a shriek that melted into shrill giggles.

"You never answered my question by the way," he teased, playing his ribs like a piano. Polites snorted, both hands flying up to cover his face, but the red hue tinging his cheeks was visible in between his fingers.

"Ohoho bite mehehe!" he snarked, throwing his head back in wild laughter. The sound was full and bright, drawing out a good handful of soldiers to enjoy the rare bout of mischief on display.

"Well if you insist..." he smirked down at him as he began slowly rolling up his shirt. Polites shook his head, hands fighting to tug his shirt back down.

"NO! O-Odysseus, don't you dare!" he threatened weakly before he was shoved back down to the deck.

"Why? What're you gonna do about it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy, or perhaps, more like a hungry wolf.

"I'll... Never talk to you again!" Even Polites knew that was a lie, and Odysseus didn't mind calling him out on it.

"Ha! You couldn't even last a day," he proclaimed, making Polites huff with a pout. "Oh don't give me that look, you know it's true," Odysseus rolled his eyes, reaching down to claw his stomach.

Polites gave up on holding his shirt down in favor of fending off the attacking hands. Odysseus took his chance and tugged the shirt up, pausing as an idea came to him, and he pulled the shirt over his friend's head with an evil little snicker.

"HEHEY!" he yelled as his vision was replaced with white fabric. Odysseus shrugged, despite knowing he couldn't really see him.

"What? It was getting in the way," he said as he lowered his head towards his bare stomach.

"It was NOHOHOT! BY THEHE GOHOHODS, STOHOHOP!" Polites shrieked through hysterics, completely taken off guard now that he couldn't see what Odysseus was doing.

He paused, sitting up to push his hair away from his face. "What? You said to bite you," he reminded cheekily.

"You're thehe worst!" Polites whined, reaching up to yank the shirt off of his head, only for Odysseus to playfully smack him away.

"Well that's not very nice! I never would've thought you of all people would forget your manners," he teased before diving back in to nibble his sides, sending him into another bout of hysterics. Odysseus shook his head and growled into the skin, making loud fake chewing sounds. Polites was almost grateful for his shirt hiding his face; at least then no one could see how much he was blushing.

In fact, he couldn't remember a time he felt more embarrassed. Maybe if he thought hard about it he could, but there was no chance of that happening any time soon. Odysseus had a perfect knack for doing or saying the most flustering thing at any given moment, and it seemed like he was intent on putting him through the wringer.

Polites was pulled from his thoughts when a shriek ripped itself from his throat as a raspberry was blown in the middle of his belly.

"Nonono Cahahaptahain DOHOHON'T!" he squealed before breaking off in shrill laughter, peppered with snorts. His legs scrambled and kicked the deck from where he was pinned, hands flying about uselessly. Odysseus popped back up to let him catch his breath.

"You're way more ticklish than me! I can't believe you honestly thought you could get away with that," he taunted, letting his fingers crawl up his sides towards his ribs. He leaned in to growl in his ear, "Just how did that work out for you?" He reached up to tug his shirt back down. What good was tickling him if he couldn't see the smile plastered on his adorable face?

"Hohohorrible! Ca-Cahahaptain plehehease! Let me gohoho I'm sohohohorryyyy!" Polites begged through helpless giggles that Odysseus chuckled along with.

"See, you say that, but you don't sound all that sorry," he teased, barely biting back his smirk.

"Ihihi aham!" he insisted. Odysseus studied him with a sly grin.

"Alright then... prove it," he ordered. Polites furrowed his brows as he sucked in air between bouts of giggles. He stared up at the captain skeptically.

"... How?" he questioned, arching a brow. His glasses were askew in the opposite direction, making for a rather funny expression. Odysseus snorted, reaching out to fix his glasses for him. "Oh, thank you," he muttered, adjusting them slightly, sitting them in a more comfortable position than Odysseus had.

"It's easy, really, all you gotta do is keepyourarmsup," he finished his sentence in a jumbled rush, masking it with a fake cough. But Polites heard him loud and clear, clutching his arms to his chest.

"Nohoho wahay, are you crahazy?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm the captain," he answered smugly. Polites stared at him, rather unamused by the joke it would seem. Odysseus couldn't have that, so he latched onto his knees.

"SHIT SHIT SHIHIHIT! Nohohot thehehere!" Polites fell back on the deck, overwhelmed by another fit of laughter. Odysseus relentlessly squeezed his kneecaps, no matter where they tried to kick to escape his grasp. Polites snorted, hiding his face behind his hands. He had no choice but to comply. "Ohohokahay I'll dohoho ihit!"

Odysseus pulled his hands away with a smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked innocently. Polites threw his head back with a giggly whine. He flinched with a sharp yelp when Odysseus tapped his elbows.

"C'mon, put 'em up," he prompted, making the task practically impossible by wiggling his fingers threateningly.

A small group of spectators stood off to the side, seemingly enjoying the show. Elpenor couldn’t help but throw in his two cents, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Remember, we need him alive, Sir!"

Odysseus let out a hearty laugh, patting his victim on the chest. "He's still breathing!"

"Barely!" Polites squeaked out, drawing out more laughter from their audience. His pink cheeks turned a shade darker.

"Pft, and you say I'm dramatic. This'll be the last thing, I swear," Odysseus said, hiding crossed fingers behind his back. Polites looked at him skeptically before sighing in defeat.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Promise?" he repeated himself, trying to sound more stern. Odysseus rolled his eyes.

"Yes, fine, I promise," he lied.

Polites took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He raised his arms up about halfway before he froze, shaking his head as nervous giggles spilled out. Odysseus shrugged.

"Eh, good enough for me," he declared before digging his hands in the free space under his arms. Polites squealed and his arms came crashing down immediately. Odysseus couldn't help but laugh along as Polites snorted through his laughter. His mouth hung open in a wide smile, dimples shining on his rosy cheeks.

After a few seconds he let up on his friend, but he didn't yet release him. Polites looked up at him, squirming more the longer he remained trapped.

"H-hey, aren't you gonna let me up?"

Odysseus offered a not so sympathetic look. "About that... I was crossing my fingers." Polites gasped at the betrayal.

"But you promised!"

"And this'll be the last last thing. Promise for real this time," Odysseus said, holding his hand out to shake. Polites looked at his hand, then up to meet his gaze as he scoffed.

"I dohon't trust you!"

"You trust me with your life," Odysseus taunted in a matter of fact tone, sly smirk playing at his lips. Polites bit the inside of his cheek to try and hide his amusement.

"That's different," Polites reasoned.

"Mmm, is it though?" he asked, cocking his head. Polites glared up at him, but the blush and smile combo he sported lessened the blow. Odysseus took the chance to scoop up one of his hands, giving it a firm shake to seal the deal before Polites wretched free from his grasp with a half amused huff.

"There, now you have my word."

"A lotta good that's worth," Polites sassed, crossing his arms. Odysseus stared at him in shock.

"Oh I'm sorry, do you want me to keep going?" he growled in a low, threatening tone, reaching down to squeeze his hips unexpectedly. Polites screeched and arched his back, hands flying down to protect himself.

"NOHOHO I'M SOHOHORRY PLEHEHEASE!"

Odysseus pulled back with a proud grin, "Yeah, that's what I thought. And just for that..." he trailed off, adjusting their position slightly to make sure Polites was securely pinned.

He giggled nervously, body already tensing up. "Ohohodysseus, plehease! Just let me gohoho!" he whined.

"After that remark? I don't think so."

Odysseus grabbed his head, gently holding it to the side, and Polites knew what was coming.

"Nohoho, please not thahahat! Cahahaptain, please, I'm sorrYYYYY!" his begging fell on deaf ears, morphing into a squeal as Odysseus bent down to blow a raspberry on the sweet spot just below his ear. Bubbly giggles filled the salty sea air as Polites fought for his life, flopping around on the deck in desperate search for any leverage he could use for escape. Odysseus took a deep breath, gently turning his head so he could get the other side.

Another giggly scream burst free from his lungs, hands shoving weakly at his shoulders. Polites wasn't sure how he could have so much air in his lungs, the gods had to be playing some cruel joke on him. And then, just like that it was over. Odysseus rolled off of him, leaving him to cope with a residual laughing fit, furiously rubbing away the lingering feelings on his neck.

Odysseus drummed a quick beat on Polites's chest, chuckling when he was playfully smacked away.

"You're an asshole," Polites said, not even bothering to try and hide the wide grin overtaking his features. “And you need to shave.” Odysseus chuckled, scratching his stubble nonchalantly.

"Sorry bud, I had to make an example outta you," he shrugged with a cheeky click of his tongue. He stood up and brushed himself off, offering a hand to Polites. He hesitantly accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. His legs felt just a tad shaky, but he quickly steadied himself. The embarrassment, however, was much harder to hide.

Odysseus tried to reach up to ruffle his hair, but Polites quickly danced out of reach with a giggle. "Stahay away from me!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Odysseus just stood there, a smug, shit eating grin on his face as he watch Polites go running back to Eurylochus.

A soft hoot to his left startled him, and he turned to see an owl perched nearby, watching him with its head tilted at a perfect 90° angle.

Now it was his turn to blush it seemed, as the owl hooted again, twisting its head all the way around. It stared up at him with large, curious eyes.

"Oh shut up, I was teaching him a lesson."

But Athena knew better.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower - College

The Tower: College - One Shot

Series Masterlist

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2867

Warnings:  none

Synopsis:  Riley and Pietro are both preparing for college. Their parents all have ideas about where they should go.

Author’s Note: This is not a request but rather the first co-written piece with @fanficwriter013 since The Queen of Asgard. I do still have some requests to write and you can still send in your requests.

College

Set between The Queen of Asgard and Family

Nothing ever really prepares you to parent a teenager.  You can have all the love and all the money in the world and you’ll still feel blindsided by the challenges thrown up.  You’ll need to comfort them through fights with friends, drive them to extracurricular activities you’d never even thought of, grit your teeth while they date people you don’t like, and try to keep it together as their hormones go wild.  We’d been learning on the job and sometimes we struggled, but we were blessed with loving and affectionate kids, and we all wanted the absolute best for them.

We crossed each hurdle as we came to them, sometimes stumbling but always getting up and always supporting each other and them as we did.

Riley and Pietro were about to start applying to colleges, and we were helping them decide which ones they’d most like to attend.

Of course, Tony wanted them both to attend M.I.T.  He was very vocal about it.  Neither was particularly techy, but they humored him when he organized a private tour for them.  Riley, Pietro, Tony, Clint, Nat, Bruce, and I went to Boston to look around campus.

We spent the morning looking at lecture theaters and labs.  This afternoon we’d talk to professors about courses, majors, and what they’d need to get in.  For now, we were taking a break at a taco place just off campus.

When we were all seated with our chips, guac, and drinks, (I’d gotten a Paloma which I’d never had before and was already really enjoying) Tony looked at the kids.

“So?  What do we think so far? It’s good, huh?” he said. “There’s a lot of great stuff. There’s a study space that gives out free bananas.  How can you complain about that?”

"Bananas aren't a selling point," Clint said, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Dad, bananas sound good," Pietro said. "They're a good brain food."

"I think I'd like to see some other schools. Don't want to put all my eggs in one basket" Riley said, picking at her order of tacos.

“I mean, I’d also say that we can afford to buy bananas if we wanted them,” I added.  “That is not a thing that is outside our budget.”

Riley smothered laughter and Pietro shook his head.

“It’s more the principle of the thing,” Tony said.  “They care about their students and provide them with a calm study area with free brain food.”

“I think the main thing here is if they can study what they want to study, Tony,” I said, taking his hand.  “We’ll speak to the professors and figure it out.”

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.  We’ll see other schools.”

“We’re taking it all in though, Dad,” Riley assured him. “We just want to know what all our options are.”

"Yeah, Tony. All the options." Clint said, wagging a taco around in front of him.

"It's okay Tony. They'll figure out what they want. I'm sure MIT is a top contender out of the schools so far," Bruce said.  "Maybe they'd like my alma mater,” he added quietly.

"It's on the list, Dad, don't worry," Riley said. "We've even got clown college on the list for Papa Clint," she joked.

“Maybe they’d like to go to school at UCLA,” I added.  “That’s where I went.”

Riley’s eyes lit up. “Living in LA would be amazing!”

“No!” Tony said, quickly. “No way.  Nope.  You’re not going all the way across the country for college when all the good ones are over this side anyway.”

“And here I was thinking that I’d apply for Oxford,” Riley teased.

“Wash your mouth out with soap,” Tony said, pointing a fork filled with sizzling beef at his daughter.

She broke down into hysterical giggles and choked on her taco.  I reached over and patted her on the back as she grabbed her drink and tried to wash the food down.

“Well, there’s always Columbia.  That’s where I got my first job and it’s where I met your mama,” I said.

"Yeah, Columbia is an acceptable school," Nat said. "There aren't many that I approve of."

"Hey, I'd be happy with clown school if that's what you wanted," Clint said around a mouthful of tacos.

"I mean, Pietro did go through a magic phase," Bruce said.

“Oh yeah, the guy who has nightmares of clowns would be happy if his kids became clowns,” I teased.  “But yes, I agree, the most important thing is that you guys are happy.  Right, Tony?”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Yes.  The most important thing is that you’re both happy.”

“Gee thanks, Dad,” Riley teased.

“We are happy, mom.  And we’re happy to look at all your alma maters,” Pietro said.  “We’ll pick the best ones for us.  I promise.”

"Guess it's up to me to start planning all the visitations," Tony said, pulling out his phone. "All the alma maters, all the Ivy leagues. Anywhere else?" he asked.

Both Pietro and Riley had ideas of what they wanted to do with their lives.  In fact, what they really wanted to do was go to Asgard to learn about life there, as Riley was the heir to the throne.  There was plenty of time for that though.  They were both young even by mortal years, and Riley was no mortal.

Riley took after her biological father in a lot of ways.  She’d been offered athletic scholarships at several schools but there was a lot of debate about the ethicality of supers competing on sports teams.  Some schools had made leagues just for them.  She’d turned them down just to avoid the controversy.  She’d decided she wanted to learn political science.  She hoped it might help for her time as Queen.

Pietro, our little empath, was tossing up between art and psychology.  Much to Tony’s chagrin, that meant that Stanford was the top choice for both kids, and we did take a trip over to San Francisco to do a tour.  We also did Berkley while there, which was Pietro’s second choice and Riley’s fourth.  We did Harvard which Tony was a little more happy about due to being much closer.  Harvard was Riley’s number two, and Piet’s number three.  We did both Princeton and Yale, but both kids agreed that if they ended up at either of them, it was just because it was the only yes they got, and yeses weren’t as hard to get when you had money and brains, something the twins were both blessed with.  Finally, they checked out Grayburn College in Harlem because of Bruce, though everyone was a little worried about how Bruce’s legacy might end up affecting their time there, and Columbia for me.  Columbia was still fairly high up for both their subjects and had the benefit of being close to us.

We strolled along the campus, toward the library after having been taken around the law buildings and the psychology one.  Today it was me, Riley, Pietro, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Tommy.  Tommy had not wanted to miss out on whatever fun his oldest siblings were having, but it was pretty obvious that he had big regrets about coming.  He was hanging off Tony’s arm and whining quite a bit.

I stopped on the lawn in front of the library and looked at my assembled family. “We can go in in a second.  But this spot here is very important.  You know why?”

Natasha smirked and moved in close, wrapping her arm around my waist.  “This is where your mother ran straight into me and we both went flying.”

“Oh my god, Mom,” Riley groaned, hiding her face.

"Yeah, it was on that day that your Ma almost killed your mother," Clint joked.

"And obviously the rest is history," Steve said.

"Yeah that's how we got you guys," Tony said, ruffling Tommy's hair.

“Yuck, Dad,” Riley said. “He’s too young to hear things like that.”

“Hear what?” Tommy asked.

“About how moms and dads are always smooching and making babies,” Pietro teased.

Tommy dramatically threw his head back.  “Eww…” he groaned and we all burst out laughing.

“Do you want to check out the library?” I asked, pointing to the building.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Pietro agreed.

I led the way into the library.  I felt good.  The kids both seemed to like the University.  I wasn’t sure they’d pick Columbia, but it seemed like it was on the list.  Besides it was nice getting to be back on campus, it was a very special spot for me.

When the kids had checked out all the different university campuses and spoken to all kinds of people about the pros and cons of each school, they had put in their applications.  They both had their preferences.  Pietro wanted to stay close so even though Stanford was the better school for what he wanted to study, he picked Columbia as his first choice.  I was delighted to have one of the kids attending the school I’d worked at.  Especially given it was the place where I first met Natasha.  It felt like fate.

Riley was never going to be happy with just that though.  She wanted adventure more than she wanted an education.  I think if she’d thought about it in any real way, she might even push to go to college overseas and I was sure that if the option ever came up to do an exchange, she’d jump at it.  In the meantime, her top choice was Stanford - the top college for her chosen field and as far from us as she could get while still in the continental United States.

We weren’t too worried about them not getting in.  They were both smart kids and also - cards on the table - we were very rich.  An unfair privilege of being rich is that money can open doors that aren’t always open to everyone else.  It wasn’t an absolute definite, but with the two things together we were all confident they’d both be celebrating their acceptance into their chosen schools.

They had agreed to wait to log in and check their offers until we were all around.  It was killing them, especially Riley.  On the day, Tony had gotten out the champagne and had the cooks making their favorite meals. 

The twins sat at their laptops, fingers hovering over the enter keys as we gathered around them. 

“Are you all ready?” Pietro asked.  

"Oh my God. This is killing me!" Clint said, tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. 

"We know they're going to get in, you shouldn't be surprised," Nat said, patting Clint on the shoulder.

"But the suspense. You know I can't do the waiting," Clint whined. "Let's go."

The twins hit the buttons symultaneously, and for a moment the room was silent while they read the letters from their top choices.  At almost the exact same time, they jumped up.  Riley squealed with delight, a noise I don’t think I’d heard from her since she was little, while Pietro whooped and pumped his fist in the air.

“I’m going to Stanford!” Riley yelled.  “I’m going to Stanford!”

“I’m into Columbia!” Pietro added.

We all moved in, hugging them both.  “Yes!  Congratulations!” I said as I tried hugging both kids at once.

"One at a time, El," Nat said, hugging Riley.

"You both did it," Clint said.  “You got the schools you wanted. I'm so proud of you."

"This is great," Bruce said, nodding his head.

Tony got up and clapped his hands. “Mocktails,” he said.  “And food. It’s a party.”

I went with him to the bar and pulled out the mixers to make mocktails with.

“Can we get Ethiopian?” Riley called.

“No!  Pizza!” Pietro argued.

“We haven’t done a huge international feast for a while,” I said.  “We should do that.  Just order some of everything, like in the pre-kid days.”

“You used to have international feasts?”  Riley asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said. “We just ordered takeout from a dozen places.  We haven’t done that since we moved out to the compound.  We couldn’t get food delivered there, and when we moved back here, we just started eating the same thing.”

“Can we all pick what we want?” Billy asked.

“Yeah of course.  We’ll all order our favorite foods and then share them all,” Tony said.

The younger kids squealed excitedly and started jumping around.  “I’m gonna get pancakes,” Tommy yelled.  He ran over to Tony and slammed into him, hugging him around the waist and looking up at him.  “Can we get the choc-chip cheesecake pancakes from the Pancake Hut?”

Tony smoothed Tommy’s red hair back and squished his cheek.  “Of course you can.”

“Okay everyone,” Steve said.  “Let’s look at the apps and see what we can find.”

This was our biggest food order yet.  It took a lot to feed this family.  There were eighteen of us, and several had super-human appetites, but when we all ordered the same thing, we didn’t over-order.  This time we did.  It was like we were catering a party where we all wanted to share.  It would be eaten, Bruce alone could finish what the rest of us couldn’t, but it was still a shocking amount of food with an even more shocking bill.

Along with several stacks of various pancakes, a large platter of Ethiopian food, and a half dozen pizzas from Ray’s, we got eight different Indian Curries, a huge selection of Chinese dishes, sushi, fried chicken (Lousianna, Nashville, and Korean style), Korean toast, corn dogs, and tteokbokki, Brazilian, several dishes from the Cheese Cake Factory for some reason, a selection of things from Katz’s, several kinds of pasta including a three cheese gnocchi, fettuccine carbonara, and eggplant parmigiana, two different cheese fondues, two different hot pots, and a variety of dishes from an organic vegan place.

It was a lot and it didn’t fit on our table even in its fully extended state, and we had to bring up some tables and put them around the long table where we all sat.

The younger kids were so excited about all the different things they could try, and I was genuinely worried they would make themselves sick.  They couldn’t even sit still because if they were sitting, they weren’t trying anything new.  Tommy was a blur as he ran around and around the table nibbling at everything he could reach.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said.  “Let’s all take a seat.”

“This is a big special celebration,” Sam echoed.  “You’re gonna need to listen to a Steve dad speech.”

“No…” all the kids whined at once.

“Oh yes,” Natasha said.  “You know how it works.”

“Fine,” Riley said.  “Go on then, Dad.”

“Wow, thank you for the enthusiasm,” Steve joked.

“I love your speeches, Daddy,” Rose said, smiling at him.

“Suck up!” Sarah teased.

“Okay, okay, settle down everyone,” Steve said.

“Yeah, this is serious,” Clint teased.

Steve huffed and shook his head.  “Riley, Pietro, you two were such a blessing for us. I think we were all a little directionless before you came around.  We all had plenty of things we’d die for, but not so many to live for.  You give us that.  And I do realize that’s a lot to put on some kids, I hope you both haven’t felt that pressure growing up.  Suffice it to say, we all adore you and we have been thankful every day since you were both born.

“I know that us being your parents hasn’t always been easy.  You’ve had to grow up in the spotlight not just because we’re who we are, but because of how many of us there are.  I hope we did alright and didn’t mess you up too much.  I can tell you this for sure, we all love you so much and we are so proud of you,” he said.  “This is such a big turning point for you both.  You’re not our little kids anymore.  You’re adults.  You’re taking your first real steps into the world.  This is big.  You’re going to have the whole world's eyes on you.  And I can tell you that doesn’t matter.  It certainly doesn’t matter to us.  But I also know that that kind of pressure can affect you.  I want you both to know; you can never let us down, we always have your back, and we know you’ll do amazing.  We trust you.  We love you.  Congratulations.”

Riley and Pietro got up and came over to hug him, and Steve engulfed them both in his broad arms - quite the task considering they were both as tall as he was.

“Thank you, Dad,” Pietro said.

“See how much your kids love you,” Tony said. “They didn’t even say anything about how rambling you got on that one.”

Steve laughed. “Oh shush,” he said.  “You do better.”

Tony held up his hands in surrender.  “I would never,” he said.  “Come on everyone.  This is a party.  Let’s celebrate!”

With that, the lights dimmed and music started to play, and we spent the night celebrating the next big step in our oldest children’s lives.

~END~

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[canarydarity]

(desert duo titanic (1997) au be upon ye. 4330 words. ao3) ((check tags for content warnings))

The most attractive part of the idea, Grian had thought, was that nobody would know what had happened to him. Not his mother, not his fiance, not a single socialite on this godforsaken boat—and then they’d wake up to find their lives would go on business as usual regardless. There would still be teas and luncheons to attend, they’d still dress for dinner—though in customary mourning black for at least a few months, if only to keep up appearances—and have the same dozen mindless conversations about things that would never really matter, and better yet, Grian wouldn’t have to be there for any of it. 

The air was nice up here, chilling but in a pleasant way. That was a good thought. It soothed the rush he’d felt on his way over, the panic of needing to get away fast and the train of thought that kept saying do it now before they follow. 

He didn’t remember the last time he was allowed to just take a breath; he didn’t remember the last time he was allowed to do anything without threat of penalization. 

Even this, he knew, was a punishable offense. He could certainly never expect freedom nor even an inch of space to spare if he failed. And if his mother’s god was to be believed, success, too, was a crime befitting discipline. Grian had since decided he’d rather take his chances on an eternity in hell than a lifetime in his family house.

Unlike the air, the ice-cold bone-piercing sting that was the metal railing sticking to his skin was the kind of cold that was so intense it, ironically, burned, and it did wonders to keep him firmly in his brain. It connected to each of his palms like a stubborn leech, like it was, in some roundabout way, telling him to not let go. But what were leeches good for if not bloodletting, and Grian had long since been bled dry—disconnect the only thing left to do. 

He peeled each of his hands off the railing one at a time, slowly, wincing at the pull of his skin and the carpet-burn like feeling of its breaking free. But he only opened and closed the palm of each hand a few times to restore feeling and heat before wrapping around the railing once more. 

He looked down. You know, he almost couldn't see the water at all. 

The darkness of night in the middle of the ocean bore nothing to reflect off of the water's surface, and the promise of emptiness for miles and miles and miles below was all too clear. He could only find where sky and sea met if he were really trying hard, and he’d found he didn't much care to do that. Grian kind of liked the idea of a vast black expanse stretching out before him, imagined himself letting go and not falling quickly down but just floating off into that tricky void. 

He leaned forward, letting his arms pull taut, forming some weird triangle between where they connected to the railing, the socket of his shoulder, and where his feet were planted on the small lip of the ship's deck. He could do it—he could. He could let go. 

He could.

Slowly, the skin of his hands worked to refreeze, fusing him once more to the boat's railing. Oddly, he focused in on the toe of his left shoe where he seems to have scuffed it against something in his haste to get here fast. He thought about how Mumbo was going to have to buff that out later and then re-shine them all over again, even though he did it before he dressed Grian for dinner and also sometime last night, joking about how Grian probably stubbed his toe on purpose just to spite him, and Grian had giggled and promised he’d be more careful to spare Mumbo’s poor hands. And then his mind recoiled, immediately, intensely, at the thought.

There would be no shoes for Mumbo to buff and shine. 

On instinct, his arms reeled him if only slightly back in, his right eye involuntarily tightened into a cringe. Grian shook his head, firm, trying to work back to worse thoughts, something else, something more fitting. No Mumbo—for where Grian currently was, Mumbo was firmly off limits. 

When that didn’t work, he shut his eyes tight and let out a harsh, determined deep breath; felt his brow furrow in concentration, his lips set into a thin stern line. He forced his arms to let him lean fully back out, more of his body over open water than ship. 

And then, from behind, someone called, “don’t do it.”

Grian startled, looked back over his shoulder at the stranger ready to shout something like well then don’t startle me the next time, what is wrong with you, but found instead on instinct what came out was, “Get away from me. Do not come any closer—don’t.” 

The man, who’d been nearly within arms length, hand reaching out like he’d been ready to grab for Grian’s wrist, paused immediately. 

He didn’t know what the man was taking from Grian’s expression—if the look on his face was more anger and annoyance, disbelief at his interruption, or alarm and a frantic sort of unease. He was certainly getting nothing of the stranger besides prolonged eye contact and the sense that calculations were being run. 

Whatever conclusion was come to, after a moment the stranger shook his head a little and jostled the hand he hadn’t pulled back towards him, almost like he was reaffirming its placement (as if either of them could forget). 

“Just give me your hand, it’ll be alright, promise. I’ll pull you back over!”

Grian tried to shuffle to the side but there was really nowhere to go; the skin of his hands was once again firmly cemented to the cold metal, and to his right at the very center of the ship's stern was a flagpole. 

“No,” he hissed, “I told you to back off. Stay back or I’ll—” Grian looked away from the stranger, felt in his throat that he must’ve been shouting to drown out the sound of the water coming back together after having been split by the large steamer, the propellers that were somewhere under the surface. He swallowed but the air had dried all the spit from his mouth, doing nothing to soothe the ache. “I’ll let go.” 

But the proposition was slipping from him, his peaceful nothing getting further away like it’d jumped a few minutes ago and was bobbing somewhere in the boat's wake, Grian failing to follow. The more time passed, the more Grian felt like he’d missed his chance—and the more urgent he felt to prove this was what he’d really wanted after all, even as uncertainty over the fact grew.

“No you won’t.”

Grian’s head snapped up, blinking in surprise, the need to process the audacity in the statement delaying the understanding of what had been said. He turned his head, glaring over his shoulder at the stranger, who, for his part, looked entirely too sure of himself and relaxed, hands in his pockets now and shoulders paused in a shrug. 

“What do you mean no I won’t—you don’t know me. Don’t you try to tell me what I will or won’t do!” 

Usually that was a sure fire way to convince Grian to do whatever it was he’d been instructed against. Mumbo knew that well, quick to follow up instructions with a don’t even think about it and reasoning why whatever he was considering was probably a terrible awful idea. But none of the usual fire infected him—spite at the statement had grown just fine, but follow through was different here than in situations of the usual kind. The stranger seemed to understand that. Grian frowned at him harder, teeth grinding together. 

“I just think that if you were going to, you would’ve done it already.” 

“Well you’re distracting me.” 

“That’s kind of the point.” 

The stranger's lips made the kind of smirk that turned down instead of up, a gentle tease that was so out of place for the location and the night and the situation as a whole. Grian’s own mouth hung open a little in shock of it all, his brain failing to produce whatever response was supposed to be offered. Under it all somewhere, he felt embarrassed, and that offense fueled the frustration. 

“Go away,” he said, not opening his mouth enough to separate his teeth, head trying to turn away, needing to focus his attention elsewhere, desperate for the feeling that he’d followed all the way to the ship's stern to come back, losing hope that it would. 

“No can do, unfortunately.” Hands in his pockets, the stranger waltzed a step or two forward, and Grian tried his best to lean away despite no move being made towards him and distance kept; all he did was bend at the waist, peek over the railing into the cold deep blackness. “Well, looks like if I can’t get you to come back over, I’m just going to have to join you.” 

“What?!” His breath puffed out ahead of him with the shriek, clouding his view momentarily, and Grian closed his eyes and shook his head like that’d restore his vision, or maybe jog some sense into the scene. “Are you insane!?”

The man was studying the railings, the slight curvature to the metal as it wound along the backside of the boat, his hand on his chin like there was a required technique other than stepping over one leg at a time. He stood up straight and rubbed his hands together, brought them to his mouth and breathed some warm air into them; then, inexplicably, he stopped to shrug off his coat. 

His coat tossed in a heap on the deck, he hoisted up onto the bottom rung of the railing and threw one leg over the top, hands clinging to what he could, and at that Grian could watch no longer. 

“No, stop—stop.” 

Their eyes met, and, to the strangers credit, he looked remarkably calm. The eye contact said more what’s the holdup than oh, thank god; his eyebrows were raised, his face paused waiting for whatever Grian was going to say next—all the composure of circumstances much more normal, situations where the consequences were far less severe. It would’ve worried Grian badly had he not also seen the way the stranger gripped the railing tightly, fingers turning colorless by use of force; the way his posture had gotten less lax by the second, casual hard to maintain. 

Something about it put things into perspective—Grian’s own breath picked up, his eyes growing wider by the second and the urge to not blink a bunch, rapidly, like in some odd number he’d find himself elsewhere, safer, getting harder to ignore. The dreadful realization of what have I done was familiar, but so was the stubborn pride that said bury it now before someone else finds out. 

In more comfortable circumstances, Grian would be willing to buckle down and insist that whatever it was was precisely what he meant to do—no matter how ridiculous. He didn’t have to break eye contact and remind himself of the view to know that wasn’t an option here—not unless he meant it, not unless he was going over. 

His torso began to tremble a little; the upper half, his chest, his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the fear. 

“What are you doing?” It came out quieter than he meant it to. 

“Gotta be prepared to go in after you if you’re really doing it, don’t I?” 

“You’ll be killed.” 

“You don’t know that,” one of his shoulders went up in an approximation of a shrug—or as much of one as he could do considering his position and the need to not let go. “Besides, I'm a good swimmer!” 

Grian did actually, that was sort of the point of him being here. He couldn't tell if the stranger was grossly underestimating the danger or betting it all on the biggest bluff he’d ever heard—some combination of both. 

“Though, personally, I could do without the cold—I am not looking forward to that water. But it’s no matter! I am a gentleman, afterall.”

Carefully, he returned to movement, began the motion of swinging his second leg over the top rail, but Grian risked the removal of one hand to reach out and stop him, the skin of his palm delicate and raw ripping once again from the cold metal, the sound of its separation sickly as it permeated the air. 

The burn of it felt good, the feel of it like a kind of tether—another thing tying him to the deck and making sure he stayed there. 

He was supposed to say something, his hand gripping the thin cotton of the shirt on a stranger’s arm, its material rough against his already irritated palm, but, even here, Grian didn’t know how to give in and go back. 

The stranger spoke instead, unphased enough Grian could almost believe he hadn’t jumped in to save Grian from failing to do so himself—could choose to believe it, if he wanted. 

“I guess I’m sort of hoping you’ll let me off the hook.” 

It was hard to look elsewhere; like Grian’s hand on the railing—like his hand on the stranger—the eye contact was just another lifeline, something else that was doing what it could to hold him firmly in place. Of course, besides that fact, there was nothing else to look at; the sky and the sea were black black black. It was the stranger or nothing, and Grian was surprised and frightened to discover where his allegiance was seeming to lie. 

Because Grian could never just lose—not even when he didn’t want to win—he said, “you’re crazy,” a half-formed deflection that was mostly stolen by the wind, quieter than he should’ve said it to ensure he was heard over the commotion. 

The stranger leaned towards him, his face in some sort of wishy-washy wince, like he knew he was about to push his luck but couldn’t quite help himself anyway. “Says the guy hanging off the back of a ship. With all due respect, of course,” he tacked on at the end, taking in Grian’s stature, his clothes and altogether demeanor. 

Grian tried to swallow again and found his throat still dry as a bone. He choked at his first attempt of saying, “You first, I’ll follow.” 

The stranger nodded and made quick work of throwing his leg back over the railing, pausing only for a pointed glance at Grian’s hand, where he realized he’d have to let go of the stranger’s shirt for him to be able to complete the action. With nowhere else to put it, Grian wrapped it once again around the railing, finding himself much more frightened about the prospect of doing so than he’d been when he climbed over, the inch or so of metal not nearly enough to make him feel secure anymore. 

Grian’s eyes trailed over his shoulder, tried to keep the stranger in his sights and tried not to panic when he couldn’t. The darkness had gone from comforting to alarming, the nothingness from welcoming to just that—nothing, and at the sea Grian could no longer look. The urgency was beginning to return, but in a manner unexpected. He needed suddenly more than anything to be back on the deck, his feet firmly planted on the wood, that man-made and temporary replacement for land. 

Though unseen, the sound of the collision of water upon the ship persisted, almost enough to cover that of the stranger shuffling behind him, and on top of the lack of a sightline Grian’s nerves latched onto the idea that he could just be gone; leave Grian there to suffer the consequences of his actions, give him just enough sense to realize this idea was idiotic before sending him over regardless—rich bastard probably deserved it. What did Grian have to be miserable about, anyway? 

But like a life preserver on a line, that hand, the same one as before, reached out to him once more, coming back into Grian’s focus from his peripheral. It was like they’d started the whole scene started over, like a director had made them take things from the top. His hand trembling, trepidation in every part of the movement, Grian brought his right arm across his body and around to meet the stranger’s, the warmth of it scalding against Grian’s white-cold palm. Slowly, and not without help, he was turned back around. 

The stranger’s eyes were green.

“What’s your name?”

A chill racked Grian’s spine, the wind off the water beating against his back somehow worse than when he’d been facing it, the sight of the whole ship ahead of him—definitive proof that he was the person furthest to the stern out of anyone, passengers and crew and all—horrifying; he couldn’t imagine anything worse than if he went now, not falling into the black but falling away from the ship, nothing to do but watch it leave him behind. He was definitely passing his chill to the stranger, sharing the tremor between the two of them like splitting a piece of cake for dessert. 

Grian wanted to ask why it mattered. He said, “Grian,” instead. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Scar.”

Stripped of any excuse to hide it at this point and worn thin by the fear that’d been eating away at him by his own hand and without his knowledge, he near breathlessly whined, “just get me out of here, please.”

The stranger nodded and squeezed his hands. “Can do.”

Grian would never give control to an entity such as fate by believing in it, so he wouldn’t say that he’d tempted it by hanging where he was for so long, but he’d clearly tempted something—the darkness itself, perhaps—or at the very least pushed his luck to some limit, enough that he’d used it all up in his climbing over the first time and however long he’d stalled on the railing, enough so that, when it came time to reverse the action and climb back to safety, his dress shoe, slick against the metal, moist from the sea air, failed to find purchase and caused him to slip. 

He was falling—and then he wasn’t; with nothing beneath it to catch on, Grian’s foot was pulled down towards the sea by the strongarm of gravity, and where one went the other quickly followed, but a shout had barely ripped free from Grian’s throat before a mean tug upwards from his shoulder contested the force heading down. 

Scar, one hand still in Grian’s, the other wrapped tightly enough around his forearm that it hurt, stood with his middle braced against the railing. His green eyes were wide. His shoes shrieked against the deck where he tried to lean backwards to gain better leverage, take any small step away and pull with all his might, but he got little to nowhere. 

“Grian!” He shouted, “Grian, you’re going to have to pull yourself up!” 

His shouting was distant, the frantic look on his face—the gritted teeth and strewn from effort bunch to his cheeks—came from Grian’s vision to his brain separated, scattered; like he’d looked at them through frosted, mosaic glass. The hand that wasn’t being held half-heartedly reached to find the railing closest—the second rung from the bottom—but rather than grip it with force he could do nothing but get his fingers to curl around it. 

There was a part of him that would rather let go than risk failure in trying to pull himself up—that would rather die by his own choice than by something as stupid and ridiculous as hubris taking it upon itself to finish a suicide attempt he’d come to his senses in time to abandon. But, stubbornly prideful as Grian was, he hated giving up more than he hated to lose. 

He forced his mind to come back to himself—if not because he had to do something, then because Scar had not stopped doing something; seconds had passed with Grian as good as deadweight off the back of the ship, nearly unresponsive, and Scar had not ceased in trying to pull him up, even as his calls went unanswered. 

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar grit out, to himself more than to Grian it sounded, and Grian felt his hand tighten around the railing. He gave one small, experimental tug. His eyes met Scar’s.

“I’ve got you,” Scar said, as much of a nod as he could give without forgoing concentration. The confidence he’d worn the entire conversation hadn’t gone anywhere, the situation growing from concerning to dire doing nothing to damper his surety that he had this, and Grian wanted badly to believe that he did. “I’ve got you—I’m not going to let you go. Pull yourself up, that’s it.”

It took more strength than he’d ever really had the need to use to heave himself up enough to risk the jump to the next bar, and the entirety of his arm burned with the effort, the strain from the tugging on his shoulder from above only compiling. But where he did it once, he convinced himself he could do it again—needed himself to do it again, and with something between a grunt and some kind of yell he managed to leap another railing higher, climbing the back of the ship like some sort of pirate of legend. 

His feet re-found purchase on the deck, then the bottom-most rail as, finally within better reach, Scar let go of his forearm and wrapped his arm around Grian’s back, and between Grian’s crazed flurry of stepping up and up again and Scar’s lifting and leaning backwards, they reached a point where they were both more over boat than open water, and then tipped even further passed that until they collapsed backwards onto the deck. 

The first of safety Grian saw was the stars. There were more stars over the ocean than there were in the city. 

The sky looked a lot less empty now that Grian was looking up and not out, his back against something solid. He wondered if they’d been there the whole time and he just hadn’t looked for them. For the first time since he’d boarded the ship, he took a minute just to stare. 

His throat burned with each time it sucked air into his lungs and it burned as he hurled it back out, overexertion and adrenaline both fighting for some kind of control within him. 

The hand under him stretched and wiggled its fingers, pulled itself free, and Grian immediately lurched the other way himself, turning to look at Scar on instinct but making sure to avert his eyes. 

The stranger named Scar had a smile on his face that threatened laughter, but Grian couldn’t imagine that anything was funny. He pulled at the collar of his thin cotton shirt, but it fell back to where it’d began after, the fabric nowhere near expensive nor stiff enough to listen to his direction, and the suspenders over it were frayed and the elastic of them showing signs of having been stretched out, but he had the look of a storybook hero about him regardless; never a doubt the dragon would end up slain and the damsel recused. The confidence that had been reassuring when he’d needed it to be grated against Grian now, reeking instead of an I told you so. 

But Scar turned his smile on Grian and leaned towards him like he was gonna bop their shoulders together without actually completing the movement. And all he said was, “Let’s not do that again.” 

Grian frowned at him and stood up, making a fruitless effort to soothe the wrinkles on his dinner tails. He sighed when it wasn’t working and dropped his hand, trying not to look directly at Scar, still smiling up at him from where he lounged on the deck. 

The click of a door opening pierced the—until this moment—blessed anonymity of the entire scene, and Grian stood up straighter and looked at it on instinct only to find Mumbo. That meant dinner was over, everyone heading back to the suite—Mumbo must’ve been sent to find him. He relaxed immediately and then winced as he remembered why he was there to begin with. Grian weighed his battles and then turned back to Scar, on purpose this time, hoping any shame Mumbo might’ve caught on his face would be attributed to this and nothing else. 

“Let’s not,” Grian agreed, and then his mouth stuck open against his permission on the idea of adding a thank you. It wasn’t lost on him that Scar had saved his life; it also wasn’t lost on him that he was the reason that Scar had had to do so at all—he wasn’t sure where that left them. He wasn’t sure a thank you was appropriate; he wasn’t sure what else could be. 

Scar sat up more but stayed sitting on the deck, drawing his knees half the way to his chest and dangling his arms off of them. Whatever weird glamor of generosity and sincerity that had befallen Grian, it seemed Scar remained immune, his cool still intact. 

Where Grian continued to falter, Scar said, “It was nice to meet you, Grian.” 

It made another time Scar had caught Grian out and chosen to cover for him rather than call the point. They’d only known each other for a few minutes, but Grian felt like he’d racked up quite an amount of debt. With nothing conceivably to do about it at the moment—with Mumbo to his back and his family expecting his return and a newfound and unusual weight to every breath that he took—Grian returned indoors. After so long outside, the bright lights of the ship's interior were blinding. 

[wishmaker-astra]

Name: Astra Tsiolkovsky

Pronouns

• Default Preference: she/her

• Friends Can Use: it/its

• Though honestly as long as you're not a dick about it whatever works

Species: "Jirachi" (?)

Occupation: Astrophysics Doctoral Student

Other: Mute, psychic, former human

[Credit: Amber Aria: https://www.sunset-aria.com/]

Hey internet, I'm Astra Tsiolkovsky. I'm a doctoral student studying astrophysics in Unova. Ask me about science, engineering, and Space Stuff™ if you want rambles.

See my full about page

My Website

I use the "cw: topic" format for tagging that kind of thing.

I would ask you do not use the phrase "I wish" with when talking with me unless I give you permission as a courtesy. Text may not set off anything or do anything, but it has associations with physical impacts IRL.

SINCE THIS POS SITE HAS IMPLEMENTED AN ASK LIMIT, HERE'S THE POST IM USING AS THE ASK BOX IF YOU HIT YOUR 10 PER HOUR LIMIT: [X]

//Mail: [off]•Mystery Gift: [off]•Magic Anon: [off]•Union Circle: [off]

//[OOC Notes Below Cut]

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT

Check with me OOCly before sending anything ICly transphobic to her. After a couple instances of this, and one OOC Totally Normal ask, you guys have lost privilege of me accepting and rejecting on the fly with the hope you'd know when to stop.

If you fuck this up more, I'm going to mandate all asks about IC transphobic stuff get approval OFF ANON first and will start blocking anons over not asking OOCly. That said, I know some of these are hard to recognize for those of you who've never had to think about it in depth. Just think twice on if need to ask please?

EDIT 10/10/24: Congratulations on first OOC block about this. I am less likely to start off with warnings from now on.

Similar applies to her jirachi status. I'm a bit more lenient and open to this one, but, like, please use your brains.

EDIT 1/24: Mail and mystery gift has been turned off due to repeated attempts to send pokemon and money to Astra while ignoring that anything sent to her should be via normal parcel post. If you have my discord, or history of tumblr DM chat, I might be open to in advance arrangements.

Will Not Interact:

Magic Anon

Fae deals/name stealing

Meta Horror

4th Wall Schenanigans

Very dark topics

• This includes post-apocalyptic stuff to be clear

Mental Alteration/Mind Control related subjects

• I WILL just ignore things, have Astra behave utterly OOC, blanket refuse to interact with characters, and/or just suddenly drop interaction as if never happened if required for this

Other Notes:

I try to treat her experiencing rotomblr as *just a website* as much as possible. Granted, one with weird multiversal connection that she will assume is due to ultrahole shenanigans she doesn't understand yet

Lose combination of games and anime setting, leaning more towards the games

Pelipper mail will be interpreted as regular parcel mail being sent to her via student services.

Please keep mystery gift to minor items at most. She's a grad student as part of her character, part of that is putting up with tight money situation.

Astra's got the full abilities of a jirachi potentially, but is completely unable to use them yet. Think of it as getting a new limb suddenly.

Assumes sentient pokemon are rare, and mostly limited to:

• Ones with decent canon support (rotom inhabiting devices with a CPU, mewtwo, one off instances such as Meowth, latias, etc)

• Certain humanoid and/or psychic types raised in human society in a way that  "bootstraps" them during critical development periods (e.g. Gardevoir line treated as effectively human from birth)

Feel free to treat her as a kid screwing around on the net with a character if you want or similar if it makes sense for your character's setup or personality

She's an adult lesbian, please block the tags "suggestive", "cw: boob joke", "cw: dick joke", "cw: sex joke", and "cw: sex mention" if you are not comfortable with those topics. Please let me know if you need something tagged.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Suzie, Do You Copy?

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 5.2K

warnings: cussing, steve and reader being in love (disgusting). should be it.

summary: Fourth of July is just around the corner. First month of summer moved by in a flash, your busy with work, trying to spend time with your friends and family, and making sure you get to smother your boyfriend in all the love he deserves. But just how long will this peace last?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story- MY FAVORITE SEASON IS FINALLY HERE!!!!! if you have an updated username when you first joined the taglist please let me know what the old name was and give me to new one so you get the notifications.

this has been sitting since january 1st…

@alecmores 💗

series masterlist / steve harrington

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With the mall buzzing with life on the final day of June, Scoops Ahoy luckily wasn’t packed to the teeth with customers. The booths and tables had barely a handful of occupants, a couple sharing a milkshake, friends laughing and gossiping over their cups or cones in one of the corner booths, and a single mom with her child who was sloppily indulging in their sweet treat. People come in and out of the store with their desserts to continue browsing the giant structure.

Robin was stationed at the counter, scooping orders and ringing their prices. Steve was busting some tables in the lobby before his fifteen started, and you were in the back checking the inventory. Somehow you got bumped to assistant manager, a mystery still swimming in your brain.

Even with it being summer in Hawkins, you had to bring a nice sweater with you for every shift since you’ll most likely end up in the freezer for a few hours, jotting down what flavors are running low, what requires reordering and what flavors need to be pushed more. Sometimes when you run into Robin or Steve after leaving the ice box, the nickname you gave it, they’ll make a quick joke about your flushed cheeks or bright nose.

“Can’t believe I still make you blush after six months of dating.” or “Christmas isn’t for another six months, Rudolph.”

Just as you finished your inventory check of the night, the solid metal door slamming close behind you, Steve pushes through the swinging doors for his break. He threw the dirty rag and disinfectant spray in a bucket beside the sink, as you dropped the clipboard to the tiny table in the middle of the room and stripped your jacket off your shoulders.

“So, what’s the news?” Steve always asked that same question when you were done with your checklist. 

“Uh,” you leaned above the paper, eyes squinting a bit, “need more strawberries, a giant tub of raspberry cheesecake is set to expire next month on the twelfth, and we need more rocky road.”

You sat in the chair beside Steve, head resting in your palm with your elbow poking at the tabletop. Your eyes were drooping, wishing so badly to just rest your head against your pillow and knockout. Steve must’ve noticed your tiredness, his eyes peeking into your view along with a poke to your free cheek.

“Tired?” You just nodded. “Was it another nightmare?”

You hesitated in answering but knew Steve would find out either way, “yeah. It involved you and Will. Wasn’t pretty. I almost called-”

“Why didn’t you?” He interrupted. “Steve, I didn’t want to wake you, plus, it wasn’t crazy horrible. I was just… just shook me up a little.” A truth and a lie.

He sighed, “(Y/n),” he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your attention to him, “if you ever have a nightmare, whether I’m in it or not, please just call me. I will come over without hesitation, you know I’m always looking for an excuse to stay at your place.” A gentle smile brightened his face.

“You know my mom is okay with you staying over.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Plus, Jonathan probably needs space from me now and then.” Their relationship was still a bit rocky, but Steve was constantly working on fixing it, and Jonathan was just… allowing it to happen.

“Speaking of staying over,” you twisted in your seat so your knees were touching, “wanna come over tonight? After last night, I could use my human body pillow.”

Steve laughed, “oh, that’s all I am to you? A body pillow?”

“Well, among many other things,” you started to lean forward, hoping Steve got the message with your action.

And just when he started to meet you halfway, lips inches from connecting, the front bell began to chime repeatedly. Instead of your lips meeting in a sweet, sugar-tasting kiss, your foreheads connected. Steve’s eyes closed and he breathed a sigh through his nose, while you rubbed your lips together to stop a smile.

“Hey, lovebirds, your children are here.” Robin’s teasing voice floated from the front counter through the sliding window.

Steve reluctantly pulled away and threw open the divider. He rested his right arm along the white counter while his left was propped up. From your seat, you could see Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max formed in their huddle.

“Again? Seriously?” He took a glance at you then back to the four, “(Y/n) could ban you idiots.”

“I could, but I do have a bit of a soft spot for them,” you cringed at the flabbergasted look Steve was throwing you.

And when it looked like he was about to say something, another ding stole the attention. Mike’s bored face stared back.

“Well, except for Mike sometimes.” You mumbled before you motioned for them to come to the back.

You opened the back entrance, and one by one they entered the long hallway. With Will being the last one out, you ruffled his growing bowl cut, “you want a ride home?”

He walked backward, front facing you with his back to his friends, “I’ll stop by after the movie and tell you.” He then flipped around and hurried to join the other three.

Steve walked out in the hallway, hands resting at his hips, “I swear if anybody hears about this-” “We’re dead!” They all cut him off. “Have fun!” You chimed in.

You both waited until they turned the corner and were out of sight before heading back to the store. Steve took the free opportunity to pull you into his arms, back flush again his chest with his arms wrapped tight around your stomach. His head dipped down so his lips lined with your ear, “I think I was promised something before we were rudely interrupted.”

A joyful smile took over you, “oh really? I didn’t know we were handing out prizes at work now.”

“Oh, yeah. Helps boost employee morale or something.”

“Morale? Didn’t know we were in need of boosting.”

The two of you continue your slow waddle into the breakroom, Steve not losing his grip.

“Well, me, I personally could use a boost.” He finally freed you from his tight grasp, just allowing you to spin so you were chest to chest. 

“And what could boost your morale, Harrington?”

“Hm?” He hummed with a finger at his chin, really playing up his act, “Oh! What about a kiss from a lovely girl? And may the lovely girl be you, Byers?”

You copied his theatrical gesture, brows furrowed, eyes squinted, with a finger pressed to your pursed lips in fake thought.

“Why not,” you faked enthusiasm that Steve fully saw through.

Steve went with his signature kissing maneuver. His large hands rested on the sides of your face, pinkies resting just under your ears, while his thumbs swiped across your plush cheeks. You would either hold his wrist as you pushed to your tip toes or Steve would already be leaning down and you would hold him in place with your hands at his face or arms wrapped around his neck. Today it was the latter, Steve being very eager to get his kiss before something or someone could stop it from happening.

And when his lips melted into yours, a steady rhythm was building, with hands wandering from their original spots. And just before it could go any further, your bliss was broken by someone loudly coughing. The two of you broke apart and turned to the point of noise.

Robin had a disgusted scowl painted across her face with her arms crossed over her chest, “Harrington, I need you up front with me while (Y/n) goes on her break.” She turned to head back up front before twisting back, “and (Y/n), you promised to keep PDA to a very low minimum at work. For my pure eyes.”

“Sorry, Robs.”

She pushed the saloon doors open when the ring of the front bell went off. You gave Steve one quick peck to the lips before pushing at his chest, “you heard the boss, go help up front.” With that you separated, Steve was forced to do his job and you grabbed your wallet so you could get your dinner at the food court, also for Robin and Steve.

“Okay, so I’m gonna head to the food court, you two want anything?” You said with your head poking through the divider.

Robin and Steve were both helping customers so you waited with patience for them to respond to you. As you waited, you unabashedly watched Steve while he scooped ice cream, and as you were mesmerized by his biceps, the lights turned off.

“That’s weird,” Steve voiced before walking to the switch.

You and Robin watched as he flicked it on and off, continuing to mess with it even though it showed no results. Your heart rate was slowly picking up speed with the length of the lights being off.

“That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” Robin pointed out.

“Oh, really?” Steve shot back before going back to flicking the switch even faster.

Still, nothing was happening, and he finally stopped. You curled your nails into your palms, needing to feel something. Steve went back to flicking the switch, slower this time. And on the fifth time, when he flicked the switch on the lights returned to life.

“Let there be light,” and he went back to the ice cream.

Robin just glared at him before turning to you, “what a guy,” And before she could make a snide comment, she leaned in closer, “are you- are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just not a fan of the dark. Uh, you want- you want anything, from the food court?” Needing to change the subject quickly.

She looked at you with hesitation, but played along, “uh, Orange Julius. My usual.” And she turned to the register, Steve taking her spot.

“You want anything from the food court?” “A coke and fries from Burger King, please.”

With their orders, you left the shop to officially start your hour break.

…

You ate your pancakes and eggs in the slow morning quiet. Will was beside you as he leaned over and grabbed another pancake, but you smacked his hand causing him to drop it.

“What?”

“Save that for Steve. You got enough on your plate.” And you shoved a fork of eggs into your mouth.

You heard a door open and footsteps before Steve came into view at the end of the hall. You flashed him a smile as he took the seat across from Will, while he took the plate where the leftover pancakes and eggs sat.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers.” Steve’s voice was deep from just waking up.

She flailed a hand, “how many times do I have to tell you, Steve? You can call me, Joyce.”

“I’ll probably need a few more reminders before it sticks.” He chuckled and then reached for the syrup.

Soon Jonathan’s door cracked open and he was rushing out while finishing his buttons. Joyce rushed over to him, Jonathan slowing his steps. You noticed the faint lipstick kiss on his cheek, but no Nancy behind him.

“Wait up.” Joyce stopped him.

“Oh, no, I’ll eat at work. I’m late.”

“No, your cheek.” And she swiped at the makeup.

Jonathan moved her hand away, “all right, all right. I gotta run. See you later.”

“Tell Nancy she can leave through the front door next time,” you yelled before the front door shut with a slam.

“Ugh. Gross.” Will muttered as Joyce walked back to her seat.

“Well, I don’t think you’re gonna think it’s gross when you fall in love.” She looked from Will to you and Steve, “just look at (Y/n) and Steve. Don’t you want what they have?”

Will eyed the both of you, you and Steve stopped eating to hear what Will was gonna say, “what? Constantly eating each other's faces?”

“Dude, come on.” You groaned at Will while Steve just laughed.

“But, Will,” Steve stopped laughing and looked directly at Will, “I’m sure you’ll find a special girl later in life. You’re a catch.”

“I’m not gonna fall in love,” Will mumbled as he poured syrup over his food.

You heard the hidden pain in his words and understood why he thought he wasn’t gonna fall in love. You gave a slight tap to Will’s foot, his eyes looking your way and you threw a small smile to show just an ounce of your love and support for him.

“What- what happened here?” Joyce muttered as she walked near the fridge.

You and Will watched as she picked up a pile of papers and magnets that must have fallen off the fridge in the middle of the night. You saw how she looked at a drawing Will did for Bob, her hand lingering before joining the three of you at the table.

“So, Will, have any plans today?” You questioned him with a mouth full of pancakes.

“Dustin’s coming home from camp today, so we’re going to surprise him at his house. Ms. Henderson was really excited about the idea.”

“Oh! You guys should try and stop by today if you have time. I know Steve is just dying to see Dustin, aren’t you Stevie?” Your attention is on him now.

You spotted the slight flush to his ears but didn’t comment on it. Steve nodded his head while chewing his food before speaking, “yeah, really miss the know it all.” A tease mixed with fondness.

…

You had a lovely day off today, but sadly Steve and Robin had to work. So you dropped Steve off at the mall, drove off in his BMW, promised to pick him and Robin up at the end of their shift, and decided to keep Joyce company at Melvard’s. With Starcourt bringing newer stores and better work, downtown was empty. Ghost of stores that used to be full of business and life was now just rotting buildings with their windows papered over, and envelopes stuffed at the doorway.

When you pulled up to the storefront, through the window you watched Joyce hanging a giant sale sign, fifty to seventy percent off everything. It worried you knowing that Melvard’s was probably the next store to go out of business, the one store that Joyce has worked at for as long as you can remember. You knew small little Hawkins couldn’t stay the same forever, it still worried you every day.

The bell jingled at your arrival, Joyce already smiling at your visit.

“Hi, honey. What’s up?” She hopped off the little stool and met you halfway.

You shrugged, “wanted to keep you company for a bit. Jonathan’s at work, Will’s welcoming Dustin back, and my friend and boyfriend are working today.”

“Wha- what about your other friend? That- that Munson kid?” “Uh, I heard he went out of town for a few weeks or something.” You threw your arms over Joyce’s shoulders with your face pressed to her neck, “you don’t want your favorite child visiting you?”

Her arms wrapped around your waist, “well, I don’t see Will anywhere…”

You pulled away with a hurt gasp, “mother, I am hurt. Your only daughter, how could you?”

The two of you burst into giggles over your dramatics and before you could be carried any further the bell rang again. Two pairs of eyes landing on, “hi, Hopper.” A wave thrown his way which he returned with a gentle smile.

“Sorry for interrupting-”

“Oh, it’s fine, Hop. What can we do? Or whoever you need.” Joyce started to walk away to the cash register. You stayed behind, taking note of the nervous look on Hopper’s face. Joyce turned around at the quiet coming from the tall man and scoffed, “what now?” This must have been a recurring thing between them.

“(Y/n), could you grab the pricing gun and follow me?” And she headed to an aisle with Hopper in tow.

“So Mike was at the cabin again last night, the two of them in her room, being gross. They were giggling and kissing,” Hopper looked like he wanted to throw up at the memory, “and I always make sure that her door is open three inches, so I took a peek inside to make sure nobody was crossing a line. And when I saw them kissing and called them out-”

“Could you mark this side while I do the wall? Should be three dollars, everything.” Joyce stopped Hopper's story to instruct you. “You can continue, Hopper,” you said as you walked past him.

It was a few seconds before he spoke up again, “and- and then El, she just… slams the door. Right in my face.”

“Uh-huh?” Joyce absent-mindedly responded.

“You know, it’s that smug son of a bitch, Mike. He’s corrupting her, I’m telling you.” Footsteps sounded against the cool tile, “and I’m just gonna lose it. I mean, I am gonna lose it, Joyce.”

“Just take it down, Hopper.” Her voice sounded on the other side of your aisle.

“I need them to break up.” Hopper’s voice was firm.

“That is not your decision to make.” Joyce continued to price variest items.

“They’re spending entirely too much time together. You agree with me about that, right?” Hopper stood from his spot.

“Well, (Y/n) and Steve spend a lot of time together, at work and outside. And I mean, they’re just kissing, right?” Joyce pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s constant. It is constant.” Hopper sounded like he was gonna blow a top.

You were about to voice an opinion of yours, but Joyce beat you to speaking first, “Oh, you should hear what Will says about (Y/n) and Steve, especially this morning-”

“Mom! Don’t say stuff like that.” You groaned.

“What- I’m just trying to help Hopper with examples.”

“Yeah, but I’m- Steve and I, we’re adults. It’s a bit more acceptable than when two, what, thirteen-year-olds do it. Look it sounds nice that El has someone she likes being around, but she and Mike are practically attached at the hip. And also add to the fact that they can’t stop sucking face, it’s gross. I’m gonna have to side with Hopper.”

Hopper points a hand at you, “thank you. You see, it’s not normal, it’s not healthy.”

“Well, you can’t just force them apart. I mean, they’re not little kids anymore, Hop. They’re teenagers.” Hopper walked his way over to Joyce, you following behind, “and (Y/n), you and Steve aren’t adults yet, the both of you are still teenagers as well.”

“Steve’s birthday is next month, he’ll be nineteen.” Thinking that’ll help your argument.

“Yeah, well, when he hits twenty-one and when you hit twenty-one, I’ll consider the both of you pre-adults. And when you hit twenty-five, that’s when you’re a full-fledged adult. Now, Hop,” her attention is done with you and back to Hopper who was throwing something into the air before catching it, “if you order them around like a cop, then they’re gonna rebel. It’s just what they do.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“So what, I’m just supposed to let them do whatever they want?” Hopper flayed his arms out.

Joyce huffed, “no, I- I didn’t say that. I think you should… talk to them.” Pricing a box of Tampax.

“No. No. ‘Cause talking doesn’t work.”

“Not yelling. Not ordering. But talk to them. I do it with my kids, right, (Y/n)?”

Hopper turned towards you, waiting for any answer, “oh yeah. Little one-on-ones with each other. Heart-to-hearts, you know?”

Hopper’s eyes looked away from you for a moment like he was mulling over your words. “A heart-to-heart? What is that?” He fidgeted with his hat.

“Well,” Joyce jumped back in, “you sit them down and you talk to them like you’re their friend. I find if you talk to them like you’re on their level,” Hopper leaned against a beam, “then they start to listen. And then, you know, you could start to create some boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Hopper whispered.

“Yeah, but, Hop, it’s really important that no matter how they respond, you stay calm. You cannot lose your temper.” You noted the eye roll followed by his fingers tapping along the pillar.

“Uh… maybe you could do it for me? Or (Y/n), even, she could do it. El likes you.” A glance your way before it was back on Joyce.

“No. And I say that for both of us. You need to do this on your own, Hop.” “Besides, I’d rather stay on the outside of this situation, it’s not our place. You’re her legal guardian, Hopper.” You added your input, but Hopper just waved you off and looked to Joyce.

“No, no, yeah. Yeah, you could. You come over after work.” He stomped towards her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, “no, it will only work if it comes from you. But…” She trailed off while walking to the counter, “maybe I can help you…” she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, “I can help you find the right words.” She began to scribble words down with Hopper leaning in.

You watched the two of them, how Joyce was mouthing words to herself as she thought about them before writing them on the page. Noting that Hopper’s eyes glanced in her direction every few seconds before looking away like he didn’t want to get caught sneaking looks her way. It felt a bit wrong to observe them, but there was something that just piqued your interest.

Before you got carried away in your people-watching, a blur of motion was caught in your periphery making you jerk your head towards the store windows. And you saw Nancy rushing away before she disappeared from view.

…

“I know this is a difficult conversation to have… but I hope you know that I… care about you very much. And I know that you-”

“Eye contact.”

Hopper sighed at Joyce’s interruption. You just sat beside her with your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I know that you… both care about each other very much- this does not sound like me at all.”

“Well, you never know. As long as you don’t strangle Mike, it’s a win.” You tried to joke, but it wasn’t working.

Joyce threw a hand over your mouth, “just keep going. Come on.” She encouraged him with a smile.

Hopper took a breath, “which is why I think it’s important to establish these boundaries… moving forward…” he looked down at the lined paper.

“No looking. You know this. Come on.”

“...so we can build an environment… uh… where we… all feel comfortable and trusted and open… to share our feelings- this isn’t gonna work.” Hopper stood from his seat and walked to the empty side of Joyce, “um, it’s not gonna work. It’s not gonna work.” He kept repeating.

“Yes, it will! I promise.” “Just gotta put a bit more… emotion into it,” again, Hopper wasn’t enjoying your criticism.

“Maybe I’ll just kill Mike. I’m the chief of police, I could cover it up.”

“I’ll be your alibi.” You said in all seriousness. You saw the shake of Hopper’s shoulders, a quiet chuckle. 

“Come on. You got this.” Joyce clasped their hands together.

Again you watched as they held each other's gazes, neither one breaking or pulling their hands apart. You saw the tiny smile hidden by his thick mustache, you couldn’t see Joyce’s face, but you knew there was a similar expression gracing her face.

After a minute or two of the growing silence, Hopper broke it first, “you wanna have dinner tonight?”

And that was your cue to leave.

You jumped off the counter and made your way toward the entrance, “Uh, I gotta get going. Steve and Robin are probably missing my wonderful presence.”

Joyce broke her stare with Hopper, “Okay, honey. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, if anything changes, I’ll call you. Bye Hopper.” He waved you off and you were out of the store and into the maroon BMW.

…

With the summer heat growing a bit more as the day went on, the mall was packed with dozens of people. Some just sit at the food court with a book in hand or a group of friends going from store to store with shopping backs held in their grasp as they chat away. Not a single one of them knew of the dangers that have slipped into Hawkins during the dead of night, the things you’ve seen and experienced. You wished you could live like them, oblivious and in peace.

In your spaced-out mind, you reached the brightly colored ice cream parlor in no time, brain lagging for a minute.

“-n). (Y/n), hello.” It sounded like you were underwater and whoever was calling to you was muffled by the waves.

The trance ended when the person shook your shoulder, head snapping in their direction with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Robin’s husky voice was a whisper.

You blinked a few times, “uh, yeah. Yeah, just- just tired, I guess.” You saw the look in Robin’s eyes, she didn’t believe you, “good shift?” You tried to change the subject.

She hesitated before responding, “busy as usual. Along with your boy toy not being able to stop crying for you.” A playful roll of her eyes.

You grinned at that, “Speaking of my ‘boy toy’, where is he?”

“Disappeared somewhere like ten minutes ago,” she shrugged.

You questioned it, but didn’t voice it, “wanna get lunch with us when you’re done? You wanted a ride home anyway.”

“I guess, but all hands within eyesight and no kissing… I’ll allow one cheek kiss. But after that, I’ll throw myself down the escalator if I’m forced to witness your sickening love.”

“Oh, that’s such a nice sacrifice on your part, Robin.” Stretching the sarcastic tone.

Again, she rolled her eyes and turned her back on you before pushing the backroom doors open. You followed a step behind and sat across from her, her legs stretched over the small square table. You swatted at her beat-up converses, “can you get your dirty feet off the table? We eat here.”

“And we also clean it, so it should matter.”

“Not all of us clean it…” you trailed off.

Robin just rolled her eyes at the comment. The two of you chatted a bit, bits of gossip Robin heard from passing customers, what you did while away from work and you made a light mention of the Mike dilemma with Hopper. A joke was thrown in here and there causing the both of you to release loud chuckles that presumably drifted into the dining area.

Your chuckles died off when you heard the hinges of the doors squeak followed by hands resting on your shoulders. You leaned your head back, your round dome mushing into starchy fabric, but you had a lovely sight before you.

“Hi, Stevie,” a beaming smile erupted.

“Hi baby,” he leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I’ve missed you.”

“Hmm, Robin told me you were, and I quote ‘crying for my presence’. Thought you could handle a few hours away from my quiet self.” A tilt of your head finished your sentence.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I always want to be around you. Like… you’re like air. I need you every second to live or I’ll die.” His thumbs swiped along your jawline.

You peered at him with wide eyes with your mouth agape, startled by this sudden admission. You wanted to make a joke, something to break the silence, but you knew if you joked when Steve just said those, it would leave cracks in his heart. So the most you could do at the moment was beam him a smile and twine your hands together.

“Ugh, I’m gonna barf.” Robin broke the lovely spell.

You bit your lip to stop the childish smile that wanted to follow her comment. Steve huffed and moved to the seat that was in the middle of yours and Robins. He ran a hand through his hair before moving it to his cheek and leaning into his palm with his eyes zeroed in on you.

“What?” You asked after a beat of silence.

You couldn’t see the smile, but you saw his cheeks move, “you’re just really pretty.”

“Well I think you’re pretty, without a doubt,” you tried to argue back, not being able to handle compliments thrown your way.

Steve shook his head, strands of chestnut hair touching his forehead, “nope. Nobody comes close to the beauty you radiate.”

You fidgeted with your hands before covering your face, not being able to handle the sweet honey dripping from Steve’s lips or the loving gaze that was staring down into your soul.

“Guys, what have I said? No PDA! For the love of my sanity, please.” Robin’s voice cracked at the end.

“We aren’t doing any PDA, Buckley. I’m just making sure my girl knows how loved and gorgeous she is.” Steve shrugged like it was nothing.

“Yeah, well it feels like I’m being forced to watch the two of you kiss. It’s so- ugh!” She threw her head back before smacking a hand into Steve’s bicep, “stop eye fucking her! I’m right here! Save that for private time, please.” Her hands clasped together, really begging for a reprieve from the two of you.

“Guess you don’t want a ride home then,” Steve spoke as he stood from his seat.

“Honestly if this keeps up, I’ll for sure just take the bus home.” She grumbled.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their friendly banter, the two of them firing at each other just as the other shoots back. You can’t help but think that these two people somehow became friends on their own, with very little push coming from your end. It made you happy, one of your best friends and your boyfriend getting along well with or without you around.

“Okay, okay. Let’s put the claws away and let's get food because I am starving.” You mediated the situation from going any further.

“Yeah, whatever. Harrington’s paying for me,” Robin walked away to grab her backpack. Steve was opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

You just held your hands up, “you were eye fucking me earlier, this would make up for it.” A stupid reason, but you knew Steve would give in either way.

And with a simple roll of his stunning brown eyes, you knew he caved. And pretty quickly, might be a new record.

“You’re very lucky that I would do anything for you.”

“And that includes buying Robin’s lunch. Like the good friend, you are to her.” A quick tap to Steve’s chest.

When Robin came back the both of you left Steve behind and walked out of the store with your faces close together as you gossip around the fast-paced bystanders. And if one of those topics involved Steve… he didn’t need to know any of the tiny details.

...

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[rubykgrant]

I finally watched Ruby Gillman; Teenage Kraken. A lot of people have called it a "combo of Luca and Turning Red", and... yeah, that's fair. You've got a young kid who transforms into a fantasy creatures, with elements of figuring out who you are/finding where you belong. The thing is, Luc and Turning Red had a lot of very special things that made their stories feel more "solid". Teenage Kraken kinda... lacks that extra "push". Other parts of the story-beats are very similar to to other movies, and while it can work just fine sometimes, it doesn't work when the OTHER movies did it better. It's fun and cute, by no means an "awful" movie, so I don't want to bash it too harshly. It just wasn't very good. It had a LOT of potential, and I feel like if I start thinking too hard about it, I'll ramble about a whole re-work for the story. I really liked the animation, that was very good, but the character designs also didn't have much going on.

OK, FINE; random thoughts about what I wish it could have been, since it is rolling around in my brain-

Ruby is half human and half Kraken, instead of the fisherman guy being an antagonist, that's her human father's job. Ruby is able to appear human as long as she avoids sea water, but regular drinking water/rain/fresh water is fine (so it isn't the same rules as Luca). Her hair is thicker/appears more coiled when human, unfurl as tentacles when transformed, and she has lots of freckles that become bioluminescent spots (also, when fully transformed, she has multiple arms, two on each side. the higher ones that represent where her regular arms are have 4 fingers and a thumb, but the lower additional limbs have 3 fingers and a thumb. her lower body is many spiked spiked tentacles instead of 3 tentacles that have feet). Her color-scheme is more rosy and peachy, to be similar to her name, and her Kraken form is many shades of red. Her parents have told her the whole deal about what she really is and how the rules for the ocean work, but her mom still hasn't explained everything with why she left the sea.

There is still the part with the school prom taking place on a boat, and so Ruby is already resigned to just skipping it. Instead of her putting so much emphasis on NEEDING to go, she tries to brush it off like she doesn't care... but this is really her hiding various insecurities. A few other kids ask her out, and she politely turns them down (there is also a theme of her not wanting to go out with anybody just because they're popular or good-looking; she wants to date somebody she knows really well/gets along with, but because of her secret, she's afraid to get close). Chelsea eventually arrives to school; she's still instantly charming and vibrant, but with black/dark-blue colors in her outfits (I know the joke is she looks like red-headed Ariel, but I like Ruby being the red-head to match her name), and is in a wheel chair. Before they know about their shared "sea-crets", Chelsea admits to Ruby at some point that while she likes making friends, she wishes people didn't always try to do EVERYTHING for her, it makes her feel like she can't be assertive or have personal space without sounding ungrateful, and worries about being ignored when she DOES need help. So, she's always pleasant and bubbly, even when she's uncomfortable. Ruby encourages her to speak up more, and they bond a little and feel comfortable together.

The human antagonist is some group that wants to build a vacation spot in this seaside town, and it would involve destroying a lot of forest, and also ruining the natural beach for the sea creatures. Ruby's friends want to protest the construction, which she agrees with, but she's worried about getting too involved, thus getting close to the sea and exposing what she is. One night, she goes to the empty beach when she realizes some animals have gotten caught in some trash. She frees them, but changes into her Kraken form. A flash-back scene shows she used to change in the ocean with her mom when she was little, but when more people started living close by, it wasn't safe anymore. She takes this chance to swim deep in the ocean for the first time in years, and runs into OTHER Krakens! She hasn't met any beside her own family. She's reluctant to follow them farther out, so she goes home, dries off, and tries to ask her mom what this means. Her mom is evasive, and Ruby realizes her mom is lying about something.

The next day is hectic; all the other kids are either excited about prom, or trying to organize another protest for the construction, Ruby gets stressed-out when she can't talk to her friends, some mean kids make fun of her, so she runs out of school. She finds and empty part of the beach, and dives into the water. This time, when she finds the other Krakens, she goes down into the ocean with them to find some answers. She meets their leader, who turns out to be her grandmother! She tells a similar story, about Krakens protecting the sea, and other creatures of the water fighting with them over control, but the purpose is a little different; instead of a magical trident, the source of power was a giant Pearl. Whoever held it would gain intense strength. During a battle before Ruby was born, her mother fought a terrible enemy to gain control of the Pearl... but instead of ruling with it, Ruby's mother hid the Pearl away somewhere, and left the ocean.

When Ruby leaves, she has another surprise before she gets home; still in her Kraken form near the beach, she meets a Mermaid, who turns out to be Chelsea! She went after Ruby, worried about her, and saw her change in the water. Now the girls also bond over both knowing they aren't human, they're both so excited to finally have somebody to share this with! Ruby realizes that a song her mother used to sing to her as a baby has clues in it about where the Pearl might be hidden. She and Chelsea work together to find it. Before they do, Ruby confronts her mom once more, now with more of the truth. Her mom finally explains that Krakens weren't just "guardians" of the sea; they had to serve whoever held the Pearl, and in the distant past (long before Ruby's mom or grandmother were born), humans would order Krakens to attack other creatures and people. Krakens destroyed ships and flooded the land with waves to wipe out armies. As the years went by, the Pearl fell out of human's grasp, and the titans of the sea began fighting over it. Krakens discovered they could control other creatures with it, and it became an endless war for the Pearl. When Ruby's mother realized this, she fought to take the Pearl away from their enemies, but hid it so it could never be used to enslave creatures like them. Ruby's mother then explains that the last creatures she fought, the ones who wanted to get the Pearl and control the Krakens, were Mermaids.

Ruby is conflicted now; she doesn't want to mistrust Chelsea, or let down her grandmother, but finding the Pearl seems like a dangerous plan. She isn't sure how to explain it all, so she lies at school, saying she can't remember the last clue in the song, so they can't find the Pearl. Ruby makes an excuse about why she can't go out for their afternoon trip to the ocean... so Chelsea gets the idea to go ask Ruby's grandmother about the song, visiting the Kraken city for the first time in the ocean. They assume she's a Mermaid spy, and capture her. Ruby finds out, and tries to convince her grandmother that Chelsea isn't a bad person, but the other Krakens don't want to trust a Mermaid. Ruby doesn't know what to do... she finally decides she needs to find the Pearl. Maybe if she gives it to her grandmother, they won't have anything to worry about. Ruby explains the problem to her mother, who admits that the old lullaby WAS about an island she used to visit, where she met Ruby's father, and where she hid the Pearl. The decide to go together and find it.

The island is not too far away, but when they arrive, the Pearl is GONE. The island has also been bulldozed to build a hotel, but the same people back at their home town. Ruby, her mother, and father figure out that the people who own the hotel found the Pearl, and kept it as a treasure; it is on display in the new home they bought for themselves while the hotel is constructed. After they try to figure out several plans to sneak in, Ruby's dad finally just runs in yelling, smashes the glass case, grabs the bowling ball sized Pearl, and runs back out, still yelling. The rich people are momentarily too surprised to react, but then quickly call the police. Ruby takes the Pearl and runs toward the beach; her mom explains that once it is in the water, other magical beings in the sea will sense it, and try to attack. If somebody holds it and gives another creature a direct command, they will be forced to obey.

In the ocean, Ruvy transforms, and she can see that the Pearl changes as well; it now seems semi-transparent, with colorful swirls of magic inside. The little lights represent different sources of magic from each titan of the sea, which is how it controls them all. On the beach, just as police arrive, a group of protestors also show up to yell at the hotel owners, and then a strange storm begins to roll in; titans of the sea have arrived to try and get the Pearl. Ruby's mother transforms, and while she is unable to follow her daughter deeper in the water, she protects people on the beach from other monsters. Ruby evades several monster attacks, before reaching the Kraken city. She shows her grandmother the Pearl, and asks that Chelsea be let go. Her grandmother finally agrees, and when she hears about the monster attacks, goes to the surface to help her daughter. Ruby and Chelsea reunite, and together look at the Pearl, talking about how they can possibly fix this...

On the beach, more monsters are attacking. The Krakens fight back. At first, Ruby's grandmother asks why they should bother protecting these humans, but Ruby's mom talks about how she knows these people in this town- they're good, they're her friends and neighbors. All the confused people hear this as well. Ruby and Chelsea arrive on the beach, and Ruby's grandmother asks her to use the Pearl to command the other titans of the sea. Ruby and Chelsea tell her NO; it isn't right to have that kinds of power over other living creatures. The magic inside the Pearl shouldn't be hoarded or hidden. It needs to be SHARED. The break the Pearl against a rock, and from inside the glowing swirls of light fly out. Several of them shoot through the sky like stars, but two remain, touching Ruby and Chelsea, and turning into smaller, single pearl necklaces on their necks. It gives them their own advanced abilities that in the past would be used to destroy people and monsters (with Chelsea gaining a form that makes her giant like Ruby), but now it is less intense, and doesn't cost them their free will. The other Krakens, Mermaids, and various creatures all glow, showing that they each have a drop of the magic as well. Some of the monsters leave begrudgingly, but others stay and finally realize; they don't have to be afraid of each other anymore.

The people on the beach are initially VERY confused, but as Ruby and Chelsea transform back on land, their classmates and friendly people in town cheer. Eventually the dazed hotel people recover enough to demand that the police arrest SOMEBODY, but the cops decide this is NOT a problem they want to deal with. The hotel people then try to threaten Chelsea, Ruby and her family that they will tell the world and expose them as monsters! Everybody in town just kinda says; go ahead. We'll say you're lying. Nobody will EVER believe you. Ruby follows this up by informing them that their invasive and destructive hotel is NOT welcome in their town. They get the message to leave. As people rush around, very excited about everything that has just happened, Ruby finally has a calm moment with Chelsea, helping her back into the wheelchair on land. Now that there isn't any pressure to avoid the ocean and keep the secret... Ruby asks if Chelsea would like to go to prom with her. Everything ends with a happy night at prom for all the kids, who now also invite kids of magical creatures from the ocean to dance on their boat. In the days that follow, Ruby tells the whole story to her friends, and explains that Krakens are still guardians of the ocean... but now they can work together with other beings in the sea, and protect the world from being destroyed by things like pollution, instead of pointless fighting or being enslaved

There, different magical item/Kraken backstory, and also Ruby gets a Mermaid girlfriend

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Bravura

Chapter Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, past Dean/Jo

Word Count: 3893

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, allusion to Jo and Mary's deaths, allusion to Sam's addiction issues, buried feelings, bribery in the form of pie, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean woke up with only a hint of a hangover, having stuck to beer most of the night. They had guests over after all. Which was one of those little rules he had made for himself over the past few months to keep himself in line, accountability and all that. He groaned and stretched, letting his body fan out into the empty spaces of his oversized bed. It was on mornings like that one when Dean wished he had given in to Sam and gotten them a dog. But in a few months, they’d been back on the road and that kind of life isn’t fair to anyone, let alone a pet you can’t explain your life choices to. 

So, instead of getting wake up kisses or giving out chin scratches, Dean got himself out of bed. He made his way downstairs to make some coffee. Charlie had ducked out sometime around two, leaving you alone on the couch. Which is where Dean found you still, breathing deeply with your mouth open like a hoodie-doned Anna, rat’s nest hair and all. Fuckin’ adorable.

Dean smiled to himself and quietly made a pot of coffee.

Not even an hour later and you were up, wiping the drool onto the sleeve of your sweatshirt and slogging into the kitchen, empty glass of water in your free hand which you set down next to the sink. 

“Mornin’,” you said to him, casual as ever.

Dean stayed put, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and touch you. “Mornin’. Want something to eat? There’s coffee, but not sure it’s still hot.”

“It’s coffee, it’s fine,” you insisted, grabbing a mug like you lived there and poured yourself the last of the pot. You slid into the stool next to Dean and glanced over his shoulder, lyrics and chords criss crossing his notepad as he doodled in the margins. He tried not to flinch from your curiosity.

“Just working out the kinks,” he said softly, before taking a sip from his own cup.

“I can’t imagine, there’s so much that goes into them all.” You shook your head, and added, “you’re so good at it, too.”

“Ahhh, shucks.” Dean smirked, bluffing as usual.

“At least I know you suck at video games, otherwise I’d doubt you were real.”

Always putting him in his place. He elbowed you, making you flail to stop your coffee from spilling. “That real enough for ya?”

“Ass!”

Dean chuckled and folded his notes away, dropping his pen on top of the ratty first page that held forgotten potential album titles and a phone number to a Chinese place near the studio.

He sighed, grimacing at his now empty cup. “Need a ride home? I’m gonna take a drive before Sam’s back for lunch.”

You squinted at him and Dean could tell that was too obvious.

“Well, since you’re offering—”

“Always ready and willing to be your chauffeur, Trouble, you know that.”

“I know, I just don’t want to take up the rest of your morning off.” You shrugged and then dropped your head back and rolled your shoulders, grunting from the strain. “Remind me to find a bed next time, I’m guessing you guys have those, right?”

Dean had beds to spare, but more importantly, he was picturing you crawling into his bed, specifically. Luckily, his brain was smarter than his dick. “Yeah, don’t even use the coffins anymore, totally civilized and everything.”

You giggled pointedly. Hey, it wasn’t that bad a joke.

“Okay, well, I’ll be ready to go whenever you are,” you sighed before taking a long drink, hinting he should get in gear.

Dean pushed back away from the counter, careful not to nudge you as he stood. He was always so aware of his body in relation to yours, drawn in and held back. “Okay, sure. Uh, let me grab my wallet, meet you in the garage.”

You gasped from the long pull. “Sounds good.”

He made it to the backstairs before backtracking for his notepad, not wanting to leave something like that out as temptation. You played innocent, but he could tell you had been half a second away from snooping. He gave you his best disappointed face, as you huffed, the hesitance of your smile a sure sign of embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean teased, and made his way back upstairs.

The ride out of the canyon was perfect, sunny and mild. He put his aviators on and cranked the tunes, drumming on the steering wheel as you hummed along beside him. If Dean could pick which memories to revisit in his dreams, he hoped to have this one again soon. Not much could top moments like this, when it was just you two and Baby, good music and the open road. Even days with Sam like this were few and far between lately.

He kept looking over at you, to see if you were smiling. And you’d just roll your eyes at him and turn up the music. God, he wanted to kiss you. But he wouldn’t do that to you, wouldn’t make you into somebody who he could really hurt. Somebody he could lose. After his mom and Jo, Dean was done with losing people. 

So, as long as Sam was clean and safe, Dean had everything he needed.

Friends were enough. For everything else, he’d manage.

He pulled up to the curb in front of your house just before eleven, the old place a welcome sight. 

“Hey, everything alright? You kind of disappeared there,” you asked, turning towards him on the bench seat.

Dean closed his eyes and kicked himself for overthinking. “Uh, yeah, just sort of spaced out. The house good? Need anything fixed?”

“Um, no, I mean yes. The house is good— nothing’s broken. I’d let my landlord know if I needed help, Dean,” you said weightedly.

“Yeah, but your landlord is kind of a dick. Might as well check.”

“Well, I think he’s on top of it. Even when he’s busy writing songs and playing chauffeur.” 

Dean couldn’t help but think of how else he’d like to be on top.

“Well, you know where to find me if you put a pound of pinto beans down the disposal again.”

“I swear to god! That was one time and my parents’ disposal could have handled that. You know what, I’m going to put an entire melon rind down there later, just so you have to fix it.” You swung the door open and stood up, straightening the strap of your bag and patting the pouch of your hoodie for your phone.

“I’ll make Sam come out, he’ll fucking compost it or some shit.” Dean grinned and held up his hand in a stunted wave as you closed the door.

“Thanks, butthead!” You called over your shoulder.

“Anytime,” he said back, too quiet for you to hear. He made sure you got in through the side door, before checking his blindspot, and pulling back into traffic.

November was slipping through Dean’s fingers, but days in the studio felt like a charged eternity. A lifetime of making music, and he still couldn’t get sick of it. It was in his blood, but he and Sam had stopped trying to live their father’s dream almost ten years ago and had started making their own kind of music. He walked out of Frank’s studio just after seven o’clock that following Tuesday night, giving the band an early night to prepare for Annie’s arrival the following day. Sam was on his phone as he rounded the trunk toward the passenger seat, talking to god-only-knew.

Dean unlocked his door and reached over to let Sam in, the stretch across the bench seat a good kind of ache after his hard day. Yeah, he was definitely sitting in the hot tub after they got some grub. 

“Hey!” Dean interrupted Sam’s call. “Pick up or delivery?”

Sam gave Dean a patented bitchface. “Just get it delivered, I don’t want to sit and wait and then have to drive more.”

“Ooooookay,” Dean muttered, ignoring his pissy brother as he punched in their usual pizza order.

A grueling seventy minutes later, Dean turned the corner and pulled into their driveway. After parking in his usual spot in the garage, he curled out of the car, leaving Sam texting on his phone while Dean bee lined to his room. He then stripped down, threw on a pair of trunks and an old ACDC t-shirt just in time for the doorbell to ring with their pizza delivery.

Dean muttered to himself about good timing and took the stairs barefoot down into the kitchen. 

Sam nodded at him and set the boxes onto the island. “Hey, look who’s here.”

And as Sam turned, Dean spotted you, an apology written all over your face and a bakery box held in your hands.

“Wha— Oh! Trouble's here. Is that—? Seriously living up to your nickname aren't you?” 

“Dude!” Sam chastised him, hair flapping in disgust.

“I’m just sayin’! She shows up out of the blue and I know enough to know a pie is to butter me up for something.”

“But you still want it," you urged, tipping it side to side to tempt him.

“Of course I want it, it’s pie! Jesus.” Dean snatched the box and opened it, smelling the sweet filling over the thick haze of cheese and spices from their pizza. Remembering his manners, he added on, “we got pizza, help yourself.”

He carried the pie box over to the range and set it down, before spinning around to pull out a server from their large utensil drawer. 

“So, Y/N, you gonna spill? Hmmm? Tell me why I’m slicing into this sexy, sexy crust?” Dean looked across the island to where you had plopped yourself down and started on a slice of pizza without waiting for a plate from Sam.

You chewed and swallowed, tipping your head to the side as if considering telling them at all. “God, that’s good. Um, yeah, I mean, I need a favor, but really it’s a favor for the band, so not technically for me, but it was my idea, so I brought you a peace offering—- which you already figured out, jackass.”

Dean grinned without teeth, taking his own plate from Sam and shoveling a quarter of the Dutch Apple pie onto it.

“What is it?” Sam asked, opening a beer before handing it to Dean.

“So the label thinks we still have a lot of work to do on your image. We need to regain the fans’ trust— in Dean, specifically. So I thought we should show ‘em how you’ve mellowed out and uh, settled down a bit.”

Dean and Sam shared a look over their respective slices of pie.

“Why does that sound like you’re marrying him off?”

You cleared your throat and reached over for a drink of Sam’s beer. Dean watched your throat bob around the beverage, other hand clenched in a wadded up paper towel. 

“Well, not marrying him off.”

“Okay, cryptic. Mind spelling it out for the rest of us?” Dean’s pie was suddenly too dry and he fought the sensation with a swipe of his tongue and a sip of his own beer.

Sam turned and grabbed himself another bottle.

“Remember my friend Bela? Well, I was thinking that you guys could like Social Media date for a while, show that you’ve matured–”

Sam almost choked on his beer. Dean glared at him as he finally reached for a slice of his meat lovers' deluxe. 

“And somebody who is as wholesome and well liked as Bela could, uh, help with that.”

“You want me to parade around the city with a washed up actress to show that I’m not gonna punch any more holes into dressing room doors?” Dean shoved half a slice of pizza into his mouth to keep his tongue in check.

“Basically,” you shrugged, then you squared your shoulders and looked Dean head on. He appreciated how serious you were taking this, but it sounded like the last thing that would convince Dick or even Crowley he’d turned over a new leaf.

“What’s Bobby say about all this?” Sam’s voice broke the moment.

Something flashed in your eyes when you looked at Sam. It almost seemed like you were embarrassed about something, or maybe just holding back. “He thinks it could work. He remembered Bela’s name from when she was a regular on that old sailing show. He backed me with the suits. They want a full year tour, extra press, double shows at the cities you had to cancel last round. But! I got you full say on the next album. They take off the reins and Phantom Traveler gets to make an album completely of their own.”

Dean chewed, debating calling Bobby himself just to see if the old codger actually agreed to the dog-and-pony show. But you wouldn’t lie about something that easily verified. He felt Sam watching him and took another obscene bite of pizza, just because.

“The guys know?” Sam continued as if Dean’s social life was being decided for him.

“No—- and I think we should keep it just between us. If too many people know it’s an act, it’ll do more harm than good.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s good– lie to ‘em. Sure that will be really good for band morale.”

“You don’t have to get serious about it, just some dates out in the open. See how everybody takes it.” You really wanted him to do this, and Dean couldn’t even touch on all the ways it was sitting wrong with him.

“And if all the tabloids start following us around?”

Sam huffed. “You’d play nice if somebody else’s career depended on it.”

Dean looked at you, at the sheer begging in your eyes and the tilt of your head in concession that Sam was right. Dean swore underneath his breath and dropped his pizza crust.

“She can’t be okay with this. She barely even talked to me at that housewarming you threw.”

Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “that was, what? Five years ago?”

But you just rolled past the obvious. “She doesn’t tend to trust famous people, Dean. She’s been in the business since before she started kindergarten. She thinks you’re hot, if that matters. Just, please, wear, like, designer clothes and shave before you guys meet up? I promised her you knew how to clean up.”

Dean wanted to throw on the rattiest Walmart jeans he owned just to piss them all off for putting this on him. “I didn’t say I was doing anything.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean. You’ve dated a lot worse.”

“And a lot better,” Dean retaliated too quickly and the room fell into devastated silence. Everyone was thinking about who he meant and Dean couldn’t look you in the eye after that.

You let out a defeated sigh. “Don’t you trust me?”

All sense of appetite abandoned him. Dean felt your eyes bore into the side of his face, but he didn’t want to be the bigger person here. He was sick of always rising above, even if it was best for the band. “This isn’t about trust. I’m just not interested. Now— if you’ll excuse me. I have a real date— with my jacuzzi.”

Dean stood and marched out the French doors that led onto the pool deck. He felt Sam move behind him, no doubt doing the damage control that Dean was too wiped to muster. Why couldn’t Sam be the label’s golden boy, huh? Getting that oversized baby laid on their dime would actually be kind of cathartic. 

God, were they planning on paying your friend to date him? Was that how pathetic he was now? Dean turned on the jets and whipped his shirt over his head, muscles aching, he sank into the quickly warming water.

He closed his eyes and rested his neck against the ledge, willing the world around him to fade away. This plan would have never even hatched if he hadn’t fucked up so badly in the first place. If he hadn’t stopped giving a shit about being a musician and a decent human being and fallen in with Cain and all of his instincts- driven manipulative bullshit. If Dean hadn’t been so desperate for acceptance of his darker desires, of his rage. 

He could hear Alastair’s nasal laugh in the back of his mind and his hands instantly turned to fists beneath the water. 

No. That was not who he is. Not anymore.

He forced himself to open his eyes and stare at the handful of faint stars, lost to the lights of the city. He counted his breaths. Everything was so small, so inconsequential in the long run. What was a few dates and some hand holding? After everything he put his friends and family through the last couple of years, couldn’t he turn on the charm for some shitty paps and stupid apps?

Damnit.

He heard the doors close and your muted footsteps through the barrier of water and the thrum of the jets around him. He didn’t bother to sit up, he just closed his eyes and waited for the rest of your pitch. What he wasn’t expecting, was the gentle stroke of your fingers against the hair that clung to his forehead, or the fondness of your expression as you looked down at him where you were perched on the ledge of the tub, feet in the water and your long skirt hiked up to avoid getting soaked.

“What?” Dean didn’t mean to sound so rough, but the anger was always there, just beneath the surface, whether you deserved it or not.

“You’re thinking about him— and probably beating yourself up again. I can tell,” you said like you can read his mind. 

Dean sat up, carefully. “It’s not—- this stupid thing is my fault. Of course I’ll do it, but just let me feel like shit about it first. I mean, I need to grieve my bachelorhood here, you know what I’m sayin’?”

You shoved his face away. “Perv.”

Dean nudged your thigh with his shoulder, nearly toppling you over. Laughing, you scooted to the opposite side of the tub. Dean kicked his feet out, warning you he could still get you drenched if he wanted to. You didn’t test fate.

Dean caved. “Pam’s not gonna believe it until she sees us together, and maybe not even then. I gotta work my way up to it before we are seen together. Text me her number so I can start playing distracted.”

“Of course.”

“Sam butthurt he doesn’t get a fake girlfriend, too?” Dean asked to keep them on the surface of things.

You cocked an eyebrow and looked back at the house where Sam had disappeared somewhere. “Do you guys even talk, like, at all? He’s been talking to Madison from the animal shelter for like two months, Dean.”

“No shit?” Dean was impressed. “God, he always did like older women.”

“Nooooooo, older women like Sam. He just doesn’t have any hold ups about age gaps.” You said pointedly.

“Hey, Sammy’s a big boy, he can make his own mistakes.”

“Sure.” You sighed. “Are you really okay with this? I know how much you hate the forced persona-type of publicity.”

“I mean, I’m not thrilled with it. But—- pretending to date a hot chick isn’t really the worst case scenario, either.”

You just shook your head at him in a way that made Dean feel like he had fixed something he didn’t know was breaking. “She really is good people, okay? She’s not just a pretty face. Even if she comes off as a bit—”

“Stuck up?”

“I was going to say discerning, but yeah.”

He laughed. “Christ, Y/N, always spinning something for the positive.”

“It’s what I’m paid the big bucks for,” you threw back at him.

“Ha-ha. But seriously, if this works out, definitely figure something out with Bobby for your next contract, this could save all our bacon.”

“That’s the plan, at least. You know if we could trust people not to be assholes, I would have all the platforms knowing what a great guy you really are.”

“Yeah, people still believe what they want to believe. That’s why I need you to sell it for me. Goes down much easier with a buffer.”

“I think you mean a filter.”

“Both.” Dean rolled his shoulders before reaching over to reset the jets. “There’s suits upstairs if you want a soak, it’s mighty nice after a long day.”

“Why do you have girls swimming suits in your house? Do you just collect them or wear them in your free time?”

“A, for guests, which you are, so excuse me for offering. And two, I would look damn good in a little two piece number, so don’t knock it. But nothing and I mean nothing could make me prove it, so tough titties there.”

“A girl can dream,” you teased back, playing with the bottom hem of your partially damp skirt.

Dean winked. And you just groaned and hid your face in your hands.

“Ugh! Not fair.”

Dean chuckled, knowing his flirting wasn’t going to score him any points. “Okay, well, send me Bela’s info and I’ll keep you posted. But if we can’t convince Pam, I don’t think we’ll be able to convince the whole world, ya know?”

You nodded and inhaled through your nose. “Right. I’ll start poking to make it seem I’m being nosy too, help build your case.”

“Good thinking. Okay, get out of here, I need to rest my voice for tomorrow.”

Your head popped up. “It’s Annie day?!”

“It’s Annie day.”

You dragged your legs out of the water, shaking them off before standing on the stone tiles. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to hear this album.  It’s already gonna be my favorite, I know it.” 

Dean’s chest tightened at your words, knowing what the songs already meant to him. “We’ll see, got a couple more weeks before we’ll be totally done.”

“I can’t wait! Please, pretty please, take pictures tomorrow? I know she’s kind of a secret for now, but I want to be able to share behind the scenes shots once we announce she’ll be touring too.”

Dean twisted and rested his chin against his forearms, watching you walk back towards the house. “Done. Need a ride home?” 

“I’ll get a ride, don’t worry about me tonight. I did kind of gatecrash dinner.”

“Yeah, but you brought pie.”

“Know your audience, one of the first things they teach you in beginning marketing, man.”

“That degree was money well spent, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and let your shoulders droop. “Don’t turn into a prune. I’ll text you.”

Dean waved. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Yes, mom.” And with that you closed the door behind yourself. Dean watched through the glass as you grabbed your phone and your bag and placed your ride request. Sam must have been watching something in the den because Dean saw as he followed you towards the front door.

Dean couldn’t help but worry after you, but as protective as he was, parental was never going to be how he saw you.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70

Chapter Five: Fermata

[onemeangreenbean]

Anything Ch 2

SUMMARY: On the precipice of death Wynter does the only thing she can think to do to save herself. Something that is forbidden in her practice….to summon a demon and make a deal. The demon that answers her call ask what Wynter is offering  and in her delirious state she answers with the only thing she can think of  “Anything”.

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x BlackWitch OC 

GENRE: Demon AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Soulmates, Smut, Fluff, Angst, slowburn

WARNINGS: violence, gore, murder (maybe), eventual smut, panic attacks, honestly my brain has stopped but promise each chapter with have individual warnings!

WORDCOUNT: 6,717

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Anything Masterlist | Masterlist

Yoongi kept Wynter cornered against the counter, not because he was still interested in intimidating her, but because he was finding it difficult to remove himself from her aura. “Um, if you don’t mind, Yoongi,” she spoke his name carefully, unsure if she was pronouncing it correctly. “ Can you please move? I need to get ready for work.”

He just hummed and reluctantly moved back. Wynter took the opportunity to move around him and into the small bathroom on the other side of the apartment. She took off her pajamas and put her big shower cap on, if she was being honest she had achieved the perfect messy bun, and for a Black girl that was a miracle that must be protected at all cost. It wasn’t a long shower just enough to wash the ache from almost dying from her bones and at least figure out what her next step was going to be. 

Wynter would obviously need to redo her protection wards, though with a demon living with her now she wondered if she would need to come up with new ones that allowed him to come and go as he pleased without having to bother her. Fuck! A demon was going to be living with her. In her small ass studio apartment. No more privacy. While she loved her small place, from the front door you could see the whole thing! 

Choosing to save that problem for future Wynter to solve, she quickly finished getting done in the bathroom only to realize halfway through her skincare routine she didn’t bring in any clothes. Used to just walking around her apartment naked she didn’t think to grab anything. God, this is embarrassing. Making sure her towel was around her extra tight she opened up the bathroom door letting out a puff of steam. Poking her head out took in her small space noting that Yoongi was nowhere to be found. 

Maybe he was just joking when he said he was staying with her? Maybe his version of staying was being some specter that only came when Wynter needed him? Either way she was free to get dressed in peace. She stood in front of her clothing rack after putting on her bra and panties debating if she should wear more layers than normal due to how heavy it was raining. 

“Do you always walk around without clothes on with strange men in your home” Yoongi’s voice resounded in the quiet apartment causing Wynter to jump. 

She tried to cover up as much of herself as possible by hiding behind the side of her bed. “I thought you were gone!” She hissed. 

“I was,” Yoongi suppressed the smirk that was playing on his lips. When he had left to canvas the neighborhood he didn’t expect to come back to Wynter’s nearly naked form, while he wasn’t complaining at all it was just surprising. He enjoyed the way her rich sepia skin looked soft to the touch. Her chest full and the way her hips flared out to her even fuller ass, the lilac lace stretched across it. . He adjusted himself as he sat on a small sofa. “I went to make sure the area was safe and to mark it as taken.” 

Wynter yanked open her chest of drawers that she used as a makeshift nightstand and pulled out the first t-shirt and jeans her hands found. “What are you a dog who needs to mark his territory?” She decided that in order to preserve her modesty she would just get dressed on the floor since there was no way she was giving Yoongi a free show. 

“It’s not as crude as you’re making it sound,” Yoongi scoffed, “It’s just a way for me to make sure there aren’t any threats and that anyone who comes within a one mile radius of this apartment better have a death wish.” Yoongi had found some low level demons hanging around but they weren’t even worth his energy to try and kill. He should probably set an example out of one just to be on the safe side but from what he could see Wynter’s wards had done a good job of keeping things out. 

Popping up fully dressed Wynter went and got her lunch together for work. “Seems like overkill to be frank. I’ve never had a problem before.” She had decided on something light since the June humidity was bound to drain her. A simple salad and some of her homemade sweet tea would have to do. 

“You’ve never had a demon at my level before in this area. I’m bound to attract attention. That's why I don’t come up in the first place.” Yoongi mumbled the last part. As good as he was at fighting – and in turn winning – he didn’t like to expend the energy if he could help it. Plus he was now in hiding and he needed to stay that way. 

While Wynter wanted to say something smart back she just quirked a brow. Yoongi seemed so full of himself but she did owe him her life – both literally and figuratively – either way she was now running behind. “Besides, someone went through a lot of trouble to try and kill you and it’s worth taking the extra precautions–” Yoongi noticed that Wynter was putting on her orange raincoat and her matching rainboots about to leave. “Where are you going? I wasn’t done speaking.”

“To work.�� Grabbing her umbrella Wynter got the door slightly opened before it slammed shut. Trying again this time it only opened a crack before slamming shut. “Is there a reason you’re not letting me leave?” Wynter peered over her shoulder at Yoongi who was still sitting on the couch looking smug that his little containment spell around the apartment was working as planned. 

“I wasn’t done speaking.”

“Well, that sucks for you but I need to get to work.” Focusing her energy she found a slight opening in Yoongi’s spell and created a hole big enough for her to open the door and slip out of the apartment. Something that Wynter found surprising considering the “level” that Yoongi claimed he was at, either he must be out of practice or she was just better than he thought. Wynter felt a small sense of pride as she watched the condescending smirk drop from his face as she waved goodbye and started off down the hall. 

The small bookshop she worked at was only a 15 minute walk from her apartment, something she usually enjoyed but didn’t realize that monsoon season was going to make a nightmare. While her bubble umbrella protected her for the most part she knew that by the time she made it to the storefront that her pants were going to be absolutely soaked. “What part of I was still speaking to you did you not understand?” Wynter plowed right into Yoongi’s chest as he appeared in front of her. 

He reached out to steady her, sparing a fleeting touch on her arms, taking his hands back as quickly as possible. Yoongi wasn’t used to people just walking away from him – ever. The rain seemed to be getting heavier and Wynter seemed to be getting more irritated that he was in her path. “What part of I’m late to work did you not understand?” Moving around him gracefully, Wynter continued on her way, forcing Yoongi to follow her. 

“I’ll come with then.”

“Don’t you have better things to do like marking more of your territory?” Wynter couldn’t even bother to hide her eyeroll. “Besides you really shouldn’t come to work with me.” While the bookshop she worked at was pretty normal selling the usual suspects, they also specialized in rare occult writings. She had gotten lucky when she found out that they were hiring, well less hiring more so that she frequented the store so often in search of information that the owner offered her a job. 

Yoongi kept up with Wynter’s pace easily, she was considerably shorter than him – two of her strides equated to one of his. They weaved in and out of the other early morning commuters as they continued their conversation. “And why is that?” 

“Mostly cause I’m sure my boss won’t appreciate a demon in his store. It would be bad for business,” Wynter hummed. Knowing her boss, he already knew that Yoongi was nearby. “Besides I don’t need an escort to live my damn life.” Stopping to turn and look at Yoongi, Wynter stopped short at the fact that he was completely bone dry. “Why aren’t you wet?”

“What?” Furrowing his brows Yoongi tried to keep up with the abrupt change in topics. “A personal ward. What do you mean your boss wouldn’t want a demon at his shop?”

Wynter hummed in appreciation, she had never thought to use wards on her person. “I mean just that! What warlock do you know wants demons around their business? Also, will you teach me how to do that?”

“ No. You work for a warlock? Are you sure he isn’t the one that tried to kill you? Also if he isn’t wouldn’t he understand you taking some time off?”

Scoffing Wynter turned around, “For your information, he wouldn’t pull anything like that death curse. Also yes, I work for a warlock, a shaman to be more exact. And I only get paid if I actually show up and it’s just the two of us and I won’t leave him without his only employee because I almost died.”

Grabbing Wynter’s arm and yanking her around to face him, Yoongi's eyes darkened. “That’s the point you almost died. You should be dead. While I appreciate your loyalty, the only person you can trust right now is me, no matter how much you don’t seem to like that fact. You summoned me to save you and that’s what I’m doing.” 

“No. What you’re doing is protecting your investment.” Wynter matched his piercing gaze. The sound of the rain hitting her umbrella was the only noise between them. His silence response enough. “That’s what I thought. If you’re so worried about it then canvas the fucking area.” Ripping her arm out of his grasp, she stomped off. Who in the hell did he think he was to dictate if she went to work or not? To manhandle her in public? He must have lost his damn mind! Wynter wasn’t stupid, she understood the gravity of the situation and was determined to correct the situation. She fully expected Yoongi to yell after her again, but when he didn’t she figured he got the hint a left. 

Mikrokosmos was still dark when Wynter walked up to the front door. Taking out her shop key she tried to push open the door but stopped short. Sighing deeply she braced herself before she rammed into the door with all her weight. Tripping over her own feet as she stumbled into the store. “Fuck!” Wynter rubbed her shoulder as she kicked the door back shut, locking it. 

Placing her umbrella in the corner and turning on the lights, Wynter went through with getting the store ready for opening. She counted the drawer, made sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and beefed up the wards protecting the shop. While she had told Yoongi to stay away she wasn’t all that sure he would, which if she was being honest with herself made her feel conflicted. On one hand she was still reeling and coming to terms that she was basically owned by this demon; and on the other she thought it was kind of cute that he seemed so worried. 

A loud smack filled the small space as Wynter tried to slap that stupid ass thought from her clearly lonely brain. “Is there a reason you’re slapping yourself this early in the morning?” Wynter turned quickly, knocking a book off the counter. 

“Namjoon!” Her boss peeked his head out of his back work room, the soft glow of his lamp making his silver hair look like a small cloud. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses as he stood waiting for her answer. “Just trying to wake up. Had a really rough night,” Wynter tried to keep her voice as even as possible. While she was fully intent on asking Namjoon to help her with the whole death curse, demon deal situation she wanted to have a few hours where her life felt semi-together. Plus she knew that if she told Namjoon now that he would shut the store down until he could fix it. 

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon brows furrowed in concern as he rounded the counter to come closer to Wynter. “You know you can tell me anything and I’ll do anything in my power to help.” 

“I know, Joonie.” She could see the sincerity in his eyes and she could also sense something a little deeper, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I promise that if it gets out of my control I will come to you for help.” Wynter put on a fake smile hoping Namjoon was buying the shit she was spewing. She was totally and completely out of her depth and in need of help, but telling him about Yoongi seemed like a bad idea. “Though I will say that we should keep an eye on Jiyeon.”

Wynter watched several emotions flit through Namjoons expression from confusion to worry to curiosity before it settled on a neutral expression. “Why? She’s one of our best customers, besides I thought you two were becoming friends.” Checking his watch he began to turn on the lights in the shop. Following his lead Wynter walked over to the other side and began opening the blinds.

“We were,” she hesitated as she tried to find the right wording. “But she seemed to have other ideas. Either way I am asking you as your friend and your only employee and helper that we just watch her. I have a feeling.” Clasping her hands together she gave him her best puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay?” He drew out the syllables slightly confused. “Though I have to ask does whatever happened between you two have to do with you making all these wards extra strong?” Wynter watched him tap the glass and pull his hand back with a small “ow” when he got shocked. “I don’t even think I could get through them and I own the shop.” Namjoon let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Um, I just had a weird dream and just wanted to be safe.” Wynter stated as innocently as possible and slid her work apron over her head, making sure to avoid her puff. 

Her mentioning a dream seemed to grab Namjoon’s full attention as he turned towards her, “What was your dre–” 

“Oh, would you look at that our first patron of the day!” She had never been more excited to hear that damn bell above the door ring. 

The day had seemed to move by at a steady pace. Even though it was a rainy and gloomy day the bookshop stayed consistent for the most part; with customers either coming in to look at books or seeking Namjoon for this or that. Wynter was actually surprised they were so busy, and that Namjoon in particular was busy cause it meant she could do some research without his questions. 

    She scoured the books about death curses and ones that matched her symptoms in between customers but couldn’t find anything. All the passages Wynter read about death curses were surface level and would barely kill a fly if done correctly. Magic for dummies as she liked to call it; a little something to make non witches feel like they’re powerful. Wynter knew what she needed; the books in the back but in order to get to those she needed to get through Namjoon. 

While Wynter was great and avoiding topics of conversation she didn’t think she’d get very far before Namjoon figured out what was wrong. She knew he would help her without question, but she just felt that she really needed to at least figure out the first part herself. Which was what type of death curse and who placed it. One lead to the other and she was here in Seoul to become a better, a stronger witch. She could at least do this one fucking thing. Wynter decided that she was gonna give it a few days and if she made no headway then she would ask Namjoon, 

Yoongi had been watching Wynter from a cafe across the street from the bookshop. Through the large windows he could see her as she maneuvered through the shop with practiced ease, helping costumers, rearranging books, cleaning. Couldn’t help but notice her bright smile that graced her face when she was helping someone. Yoongi watched as she climbed one of the many bookshelf ladders to clean and rearrange the very top shelf, still out of reach from her petite stature. He watched the way she tried to extend her reach standing on her toes, the way her jeans stretched out over the curves of her ass, and how her shirt rode up a bit showing the slightest sliver of brown skin at her waist. 

 The sound of steam being let out in the cafe was jarring enough to break Yoongi of his gawking. Clearing his throat he scanned the street to make sure everything was still going okay. There wasn’t really anything for him to check if he was being honest, between Wynter’s protection wards, which made it damn near impossible for him to even get within a five mile radius of the shop, and his own boundary wards nothing was getting in or out. 

Yoongi would say that he was bored but watching Wynter wasn’t boring, and this fact irked him. Here he was a powerful upper demon, known for his ruthless lack of mercy on anyone who dare summon him, playing bodyguard to an unknown foreigner, no matter how pretty she happens to be. Though playing bodyguard to a pretty woman was much better than trying to sort out whatever mess he had gotten himself, and in turn Hoseok, into. 

He did feel bad for just up and disappearing but he knew the Hoseok would find him eventually. When Yoongi had left him he had been trying to convince Yoongi that he should take up the mantel of leader of the unintentional rebellion he had started. Though how him just ignoring Jungsoo’s orders and abandoning his post lead to hundreds of other demons doing the same still baffled him; but Hobi was convinced that it was the beginning of the end of Jungsoo reign.

            Running his hand over his face, Yoongi took a sip of his iced americano and turned his attention back to his pretty charge. He hadn’t seen the shaman that owned the bookstore, but Wynter’s unwavering defense of the man set Yoongi on edge. He was unsure if he could trust the shaman with Wynter’s care until he could get a read on him, himself.�� Yoongi sat there ready to escort Wynter home after her shift. Watching her close the shop down and wave towards the back curtain to who he assumes is the shaman.

            Yoongi locked eyes with Wynter when she walked out of the door. She wanted to ignore him and walked pass like he didn’t exist, but he caught up to her pretty quickly. “Have you been staring at me all day?” The thought of him just creepily staring at her through the shop sent a shiver up her spine. Was this what her life was going to be like until he inevitably whisked her away into some unknown plane of existence. He simply grunted in the affirmative and continued to walk with her silently.

            Wynter was happy it stopped raining, opting to walk to the small hole in the wall restaurant that was next to her apartment. She was slightly surprised by how hungry she was, but almost dying may do that to a person. All she knew was that there was a bowl of ramen waiting for her, maybe even two. “Where are we going?” Yoongi’s deep voice pulled Wynter from her thoughts of food and back to the fact that she had this pale ass demon following her around.

            “To get dinner,” Wynter said playfully. She snuck a glance at him, “Don’t you eat?”   

            “Only the souls of unsuspecting innocents,” he deadpanned. Wynter stopped walking and stared at him. Yoongi stared back, face unwavering before he lips pulled up into a smirk and he continued walking.

            “Was that sarcasm?” Wynter jogged slightly to catch up to him.

Kwon’s was a small and cozy ramen shop that reminded Wynter of the one she used to go to back home that was owned by the only Korean folks in her small town. The tiny bell dinged as Wynter and Yoongi entered. “Hello- oh hello Wynter!” Mrs. Kwon greeted as she continued to roll gimbap. Taking her normal seat in the booth in the corner, Wynter dropped her raincoat and bag next to her. Yoongi set across from her and grabbed a menu.

 “Did you want your normal, dear?” Mrs. Kwon walked over patting her pocket looking for her notepad. “Oh, also my son is in town and as I was saying the other day I think you two would-“  Mrs. Kwon stopped short as she took in the fact that Wynter wasn’t sitting alone like normal, but that a handsome young man was across from her. She stared owlishly at Yoongi. “I’m sorry young man I didn’t even notice you, what can I get for you?”

Wynter glanced at Yoongi over the top of her menu to see him staring over at her like a little lost demon puppy. His tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously as he tried to construct a sentence in his head. He wasn’t one to be left speechless often but between the old lady who was obviously staring holes into the side of his head and Wynter who looked like she was taking great pleasure in watching him suffer, his mind blanked. 

“He’ll take my usual. Mrs. Kwon this is my new roommate, Yoongi.” Wynter decided to be nice and save him. “I’m just showing him the best places to eat.” She could see Yoongi visible relax after her brief introduction. 

“You flatter me too much Wynter,” Mrs. Kwon waved her hand in the air and ran off to the kitchen to prepare the food. They sat in silence for a bit. It wasn’t awkward or unpleasant, just silent. Yoongi seemed to be looking at anything but her and Wynter seemed to be more interested in the chopsticks in front of her. Neither really knowing what to say to the other. 

“So,” Wynter started, figuring that Yoongi wasn’t. “ How long have you’ve been a demon for?” The look that Yoongi gave her was a cross between incredulous and amused. 

“That’s your first question?” When Wynter just kept staring at him expectantly he rolled his eyes and answered, “I don’t know I guess it’s been almost 300 years.”

“Damn!” Wynter cringed at her initial response. If Yoongi was offended his face gave nothing away. “My bad.” Mrs. Kwon came back with their food giving Wynter a moment to figure out how she was gonna revive the conversation. She had questions and if Yoongi was gonna be with her for the foreseeable future it would probably be best to have a little information on him. “Um, you don’t look a day over 30 so that good.” Trailing off she stuffed her mouth with ramen before she could say anything further to embarrass herself. 

“Hmm. Dying does that I guess.” Wynter didn’t really know how to respond to his answer so she didn’t figuring he didn’t want to talk about it. She guessed if she died and became a demon she wouldn’t want to talk about it either. But really how does one even become a demon. Like do you  just die or do you like make a deal. Yoongi watched Wynter as she ate. Her thoughts going a mile a minute in the foreign language. He knew that it was gonna irk him that he couldn’t understand her thoughts. Guess he was just gonna have to learn a new language. 

“Why are you here in Korea?” His baritone voice jolted Wynter out of her thought spiral. “Not to be rude or anything but clearly you don’t belong in this country.”

What the actual fuck? Who just says that to people? Wynter’s face pulled itself into a deep scowl cause how dare he says she doesn’t belong. “Well excuse me for wanting to see the world. I know you’re ancient and all but this country is slightly more diverse this millennium.” Yoongi scoffed as he continued to eat. “If you must know I’m here as part of my final test.”

Wynter watched Yoongi quirk an eyebrow waiting for her to elaborate. Heaving a sigh Wynter elaborated, “So I don’t know how they do stuff here, but where I’m from when a rootworker starts coming into themselves they have to leave home to establish themself in a community. It’s essentially kicking them out the proverbial nest and forcing them to learn how to fly on their own.” She slurped the rest of her ramen up as she thought about home and how much she missed it. 

“Do most rootworkers choose to go this far? Also what is a rootworker even?” Yoongi had been around for longer than he cared to admit and he had never heard that word before. He was used to dealing with your run of the mill witches, warlocks, shamans, which is the category most magic users fell into in Korea, with some outliers.

Wynter laughed softly as she tried to think of the most comparable thing. “It’s kind of like,” she placed her chopsticks against her lips as she thought. Yoongi tried, and failed not to stare at them. “It’s kind of like a shaman here I guess. We mostly work with herbs and different types of plant roots. Thus the term rootworker, but we also work in the spirit realm to dig up the root of different problems or ailments. My family specializes in exorcisms and cleansings.”

Interesting enough that made perfect sense to Yoongi. Her protection wards were some of the strongest he had seen in a while. Anyone can make ward to stop demons or ghost from getting in, you only get as good as Wynter was if you’re trying to keep something from getting out. “As far as how far we venture out, most folks just go to the next town over, sometimes the next state, but I’m ambitious.” Wynter leaned back as she drunk some of the soju. The sweet tasting alcohol making her feel a bit more at ease in Yoongi’s intimidating presence. “I understand that there is more magical knowledge in the world than I can even begin to fathom and I want to learn as much of it as I can.”

Wynter smiled to herself, remembering how both her mom and nana tried to talk her out of leaving. They both thought that it was too far away after what had happened. That she needed to be close to home, to family, to the ancestors. Clearly she didn’t agree since she was halfway around the world. 

“What happens if you fail?” Yoongi ventured to ask. Wynter tensed up a bit at his question. Her mind going suspiciously quiet at the inquiry. It only ever happened when someone was actively trying not to think of something. Yoongi filed away asking what she was hiding for later. He was going to be spending a lot of time with her for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need to know all of her secrets yet. 

“Um, you go back home until you’re ready to try again. Home is always welcoming. Always there. It’s not meant to punish failure. It’s meant to help the practitioner grow.” Wynter paused trying to not remember her failure. “This is my second attempt.” She downed another shot of her soju before changing the subject. “I feel like I’ve just been talking about myself. What about you?”

“What about me?” Yoongi gave her the out. He would have plenty of time to pry whatever secrets she was hiding out of her. 

“You know? Any cool powers or like background? I didn’t really get to research you, for obvious reasons.” She laughed out. Yoongi hated how nice her laugh sounded. It was deep and rich and it made you want to keep hearing it. 

“Pyromancy and telekinesis, plus some other ones I’ve collected over the years,” he shrugged as he finished eating his food. 

“I’m sorry you can read minds,” Yoongi looked up to see Wynter staring at him in awe. Her brown eyes big and wide with interest. “Ooo! What am I thinking about?” All Yoongi heard was a bunch of gibberish and saw some random scenes. 

“I don’t know? I don’t speak your language.” 

“Well that makes sense.” Wynter mumbled. “Oh! What about this?” Yoongi watched Wynter pick up a glass of ice water and throw it on him. The water running down his face and onto the table. It wasn’t until he seen himself as a wet grumpy cat did he realize what she had done. It was rare for someone to be able to place such a vivid thought in his mind. 

Closing his eyes, Yoongi took a deep breathe. “First off, don’t do that again,” Wynter shivered at the slight chill of energy coming off of Yoongi. “Second off, I am not a cat.” There was a slight blush on his face as he said the last part. It was cute but Wynter choose to ignore the urge to coo at him. Feeling as though he wouldn’t be really receptive of it. 

“Duly noted. I’ll only use it in cases of emergencies. Like if I get kidnapped or fall down a well or something and you need to find me.” She nodded her head before making eye contact with Mrs. Kwon to grab the check. Wynter paid as she figured that Yoongi would have no money. Mrs. Kwon reminded Wynter that her son would be helping her out for the next few days and that she would love to introduce them. Wynter told her that she would swing by if she could but she made no promises. 

Luckily they made it home before the rain picked back up for the night. The sound of the raindrops bouncing off the windows made for wonderful white noise. “Make yourself at home I guess,” Wynter waved around to her small studio as she made her way to the bathroom yawning. She was absolutely exhausted. Her body feeling as though it was dragging through mud as she went through her night routine. She put her hair in a pineapple, hoping that the curls wouldn’t become too frizzy during the night. 

“Yoongi,” Wynter called out as she rummaged underneath her cabinet. She was sure she had an extra toothbrush and stuff under there. While she didn’t have people over often, she was always taught to be prepared cause you never knew who was gonna drop by. 

“Yeah.” Yoongi stifled a laugh as Wynter hit her head on the cabinet. He hadn’t meant to startle her but her sitting on the floor rubbing the back of her head was kind of amusing. 

“I’m gonna have to get you a fucking bell,”she mumbled as she stood up. Wynter adjusted her sleep shorts as she turned to hand Yoongi the small toiletries bag she had made. “Here, I’m unsure of what all you need to do to take care of yourself as a demon but I figured you probably didn’t have anything so,” Wynter cut herself off after  feeling herself start to ramble. 

Yoongi looked down at the little bag in his hands. It was a deep green and had little cartoon cats sleeping on it. He didn’t really need to do anything if he didn’t want to. His demonic energy purifying him on a loop. It was a neat trick to stay clean when showers where few and far between that Yoongi had just always kept up cause he was in heart of hearts lazy. “Thanks. Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” She simply smiled and nodded as she left the small bathroom. 

Something about Wynter taking the time to make him feel comfortable made him want to put in some effort. He waited until the water became warm in the shower before he hopped in. It had been a long time since he had gotten to take one, something the aches in his body reminded him of. The way that Jungsoo had him running around Yoongi barely had anytime to relax. He tried not to think of the massive amount of shit he was in for accidentally starting a rebellion. He was just so tired of being a puppet. He honestly didn’t expect people to follow him out though.

In truth he was glad for the reprieve that Wynter calling him brought. He could hide out here until the fanfare died down or Jungsoo forgot about him. Though he doubted the last one would happen. Skipping out on a demonic contract was a big no-no. Wynter’s wards were strong enough to hide his presence for the time being. Finishing up he conjured up a pair of soft gray pajama pants and a matching cotton t-shirt. Yoongi walked out to Wynter putting some blankets and pillows on her couch. 

She was bent over the couch fluffing the pillows to make sure that they were nice and comfy for him. Her ass on full display in her tiny pink sleep shorts. Wynter looked over her shoulder to find that Yoongi had left the bathroom. “So you can make clothes?” She noted that he was currently in some, what looked like comfy, pjs. Wynter walked over to him with her hand on her hip. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “Cloths are easy to make.” 

Wynter hmm in response. “Well I tried to make the couch as comfy as I could for you, but I’m not sure how good I did.” They both looked at the couch recognizing that the dingy couch she salvaged off the street was way to small to hold Yoongi comfortably. Normally she would just offer her bed but if he wanted to butt his way into her life he got to deal with the uncomfy consequences. Patting him on the shoulder she made her way to her bed, turning off the bedside lamp,  and climbing under peach comforter. 

Yoongi stared down at where her hand had touched him. Unuse to anyone touching him so causally he tried not to let the warmth that she had linger on him for too long, shaking the odd feeling off. Making his way over to the couch he laid down. The springs groaning at his weight as he sunk further down into the cushions. The blankets were soft and warm and he pulled them up, tucking them underneath his chin. Yoongi couldn’t fathom why he didn’t do this more often. Demons didn’t need sleep and he knows he hasn’t slept in over a century; his mind to preoccupied with thoughts of past mistakes.  He doubted that he would sleep at all tonight but it at least felt nice to rest. 

“Did you find anything out today about who may have cursed you?” They had been sitting there for over an hour in the dark. The only sounds the monsoon raging outside the apartment windows. Yoongi could tell Wynter hadn’t fallen asleep, the smell of her fear filling the apartment like a gas leak. He decided that he didn’t care for the scent of dead roses, it made his nose itch. 

Wynter continued to stare at the ceiling as she tried to calm herself. She could feel a panic attack forming deep in her chest. The feeling of the walls closing in around her as she kept telling herself that she was safe and that everything was okay. She faintly heard Yoongi’s questions. Struggling to take in enough air speak. His face appeared over hers as she tried to get enough breath. Yoongi’s eyes full of indifference as he spoke. “You’re fine. Try to match my breathing.” They took deep breathes for a bit as Yoongi rubbed her arms knowing that she needed something to ground her. His hands messaging her upper arms trying to get her body to relax. 

It took awhile but Wynter finally felt herself come back into her body. Yoongi helping her to slowly sit up in the bed. He let go of her as soon as she was stable enough. Wynter felt herself heating up in embarrassment, cause she hasn’t had a panic attack like that in years. With shaking hands she reached up to wipe the tears that had escaped. “Thanks,” she whispered into the darkness of the apartment, unable to look Yoongi in the eye. 

“It’s normal after a death curse,” Yoongi was just as quiet as Wynter. “They have long term effects on the victims if they don’t work.” Once completed the curse needed to complete it’s mission. If averted it’ll keeping trying to kill the victim but most times it just turns back onto the one who placed the curse. If it was effecting Wynter this much it just meant that whoever placed the death curse knew what they were doing.

A laugh of disbelief escaped Wynter’s plush lips as tried to wrap her head around the fact that she was gonna have to deal with  long term effects of this bullshit. Just another layer of shit on this already shitty situation. “Do you have any idea who would do this to you?” Yoongi’s question gently pulled Wynter back to the present.

Sniffling Wynter cleared her throat, “Um - the only person I can think of would be Jiyeon. She’s one of the regulars at the bookstore.” Wynter’s face scrunched as she tried to think of a reason the woman would want to hurt her. “I thought we were becoming friends,” She whispered to herself. “I don’t know what her motive would be. I don’t even have any hard evidence to prove that it was her only this sinking feeling.” Wynter placed her hand on her stomach where a weight had settled, pinning her to the truth of her words. 

“That’s good. You should trust you instincts.” Yoongi assured her. While unusual for someone to place a death curse on someone unwarranted, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. He would have to some digging into this Jiyeon’s past and see if she was hiding something. In order to dispel the curse someone had to die so they had to be sure that this was the right person. 

“Keep looking into the curse. Find any and everything you can about death curses. Go on as normal, cause if it is her we don’t want to give away that we’re on to her.” Yoongi knew a lot of things but this particular death curse was one he hadn’t seen before and he had honestly just gotten lucky he could avert it. If a lesser demon had come Wynter would be dead and that made Yoongi feel an emotion that he promptly buried deep. “Look we can strategize tomorrow. Get some rest.” 

Yoongi watched Wynter as she nodded numbly with a far away look in her eyes. He placed his hand lightly on her forehead forcing her to sleep cause he knew she wasn’t going to. Tucking her back into bed he took her in -  glad he could get the crease that worried the space between her brows to smooth out. The gentle way her nose sloped before it flared out. How soft her lips looked.  She looked peaceful in that moment, her bold features relaxed. He felt a pull in his chest. It was light but it was there, Yoongi rubbed his hand over his heart that had long since stopped beating confused.

[snailsagere]

Please read my dni in my bio before interacting

I made another sims 4 legacy challenge, this is different from my usual content so feel free to ignore if this isn't your kind of thing! :3

Anyway welcome to the Halloween legacy challenge! In this challenge you will play through different typical halloween 'monsters' and complete the requirements for each generation!

-Making your sims the different occults is optional, if you'd like you can loosely make a sim based off the occult but not actually make them that specific occult type!

-you can choose which requirements you'll do since I did include some alternatives if you're missing any packs however

-try to complete at least 6 requirements per generation (unless I didn't include enough alternatives and you don't own a pack)

The packs commonly used in the challenge are-

Vampires, island living, werewolves, cottage living, cats and dogs, realm of magic, paranormal and get to work

I used other packs too but these are the ones I'd recommend if you want to get the best experience of this challenge!

👻Ghost👻

You don't remember much about your past but now you're a ghost with a love for haunting music... wait can I smell burning?

Traits-

Loner

Music lover

Gloomy or paranoid (strangerville)

Aspiration-

Musical genius

Career-

Entertainer musician branch

Requirements-

👻become a ghost

👻reach level 10 of any music skill

👻live in a haunted house (paranormal stuff)

👻if you don't have paranormal, live with three ghosts which you cannot control

👻finish the crystals collection

👻your partner must die

👻don't have a good relationship with your kids, you're not around much anymore

👻get the needs no one reward trait

🧟Zombie🧟

...

Traits-

Clumsy

Loner or socially awkward (high school years)

Foodie

Aspiration-

Master chef

Career-

Culinary chef branch

Requirements-

🧟never do well in school and drop out as soon a possible

🧟reach level 10 cooking and gourmet cooking skill

🧟complete experimental food photos collection (dine out)

🧟if you don't have dine out, cook one of each meal throughout your life

🧟only introduce yourselves to others with the rude introduction

🧟go running atleast once a week

🧟never increase your logic and handiness skills past 1

🎈Clown🎈

You followed the same path as your parents you dropped out of school and discovered that you have a passion for making others laugh! No stop crying! I'm funny!

Traits-

Erratic

Goofball

Childish

Aspiration-

Joke star

Career-

Entertainer comedian branch

Requirements-

🎈drop out of school as soon as possible

🎈reach level 10 comedy skill

🎈have a job as a teen

🎈move to a different world once per in game week

🎈befriend the tragic clown

🎈always live in small houses never bigger than one bedroom or always live in tiny houses

🐺Werewolf🐺

You ran away from home to start a new life for yourself, you took whatever money you could and decided to live off the land in moonwood mill

Traits-

Hot-headed

Childish or dog lover (cats and dogs)

Loves outdoors

Aspiration-

Freelance botanist or Friend of the animals (cats and dogs) or Werewolf initiate (werewolves)

Career-

None, you must make money by selling plants from your garden

Requirements-

🐺become a werewolf

🐺'run away' from home as a teenager

🐺have triplets (you can cheat for this)

🐺own atleast one pet dog (cats and dogs)

🐺home school you kids (make your sims kids take 2 days off school per week)

🐺reach level 10 gardening

🐺use the simple living lot trait (cottage living)

🐺if you don't have cottage living use the off-the-grid lot trait

👽Alien👽

You're new to this planet and you want to learn all about it and perhaps explore the rest of space too

Traits-

Genius

Perfectionist

Loner or paranoid (strangerville)

Aspiration-

Nerd brain

Career-

Astronaut or Scientist (get to work)

Requirements-

👽become an alien

👽build a space ship

👽go to sixam (get to work)

👽if you don't have get to work, once you build the spaceship go to space once per week

👽go to university and join a club (discover university)

👽if you don't have discover university join a club (get together)

👽complete the aliens collection

👽go on holiday at least twice

👽reach level 10 in the handiness and rocket science skills

🧹Witch🧹

You've gained lots of knowledge over the years from your parents and now wish to fully use it with you trusty feline companion

Traits-

Genius

Bookworm

Perfectionist or cat lover (cats and dogs)

Aspiration-

The curator or Purveyor of potions (realm of magic)

Career-

Business

Requirements-

🧹become a spellcaster

🧹learn and craft all potion recipes (realm of magic)

🧹if you don't have realm of magic, buy all reward trait potions that cost under 500 points

🧹complete frog collection

🧹own atleast one cat (cats and dogs)

🧹reach level 10 charisma

🧹own and use a voodoo doll atleast five times

🧹own a herb garden

🧚Fairy🧚

You love nature and feel connected to plants and animals and wish to live within nature

Traits-

Goofball

Loves outdoors

Vegetarian

Aspiration-

Freelance botanist or Spellcraft and sorcerery (realm of magic)

Career-

Gardener

Requirements-

🧚become a spellcaster

🧚own a large garden

🧚use the simple living lot trait (cottage living)

🧚use the off the grid lot trait

🧚reach level 10 gardening and herbalism

🧚enter the finchwick fair once a week (cottage living)

🧚own atleast one animal

🌊Mermaid🌊

You love nature, the ocean and mischief, you wish to allure other sims to danger while living a peaceful life in the water

Traits-

Music lover

Romantic

Loves outdoors or Child of the ocean (island living)

Aspiration-

Chief of mischief or Beach life (island living)

Career-

Gardener or Teacher (discover university) or Conservationist (island living)

Requirements-

🌊be a mermaid

🌊move somewhere close to water or sulani

🌊only take baths

🌊reach level 10 singing and mischief skill

🌊complete the seashell collection (island living)

🌊befriend a dolphin (island living)

🌊if you don't have island living own five pet fish instead

🌊kill atleast one sim (your choice how)

🦴Skeleton🦴

You're a bit bonely but you want to meet more sims just like you and try to learn new things

Traits-

Gloomy or Squeamish (outdoor retreat)

Lazy

Loner or Socially awkward (high school years)

Aspiration-

Big happy family or Lord/lady of the knits (nifty knitting) or Jungle explorer (jungle adventure)

Career-

Freelance any or Critic (city living)

Requirements-

🦴go on atleast two holidays to selvadorada (jungle adventure)

🦴befriend a skeleton (jungle adventure or paranormal)

🦴own a cow plant, if it dies you must keep the skeleton and get a new one

🦴own a skeleton fish

🦴complete sugar skull collection

🦴unlock the forever full reward trait

🦇Vampire🦇

You are immortal and you want to be the most successful out the whole rest of your family, afterall you do have forever to do so

Traits-

Ambitious

Snob or Proper (snowy escape)

Materialistic or self absorbed (get famous)

Aspiration-

Mansion baron or Master vampire (vampires)

Career-

Secret agent or Law (discover university)

Requirements-

🦇become a vampire

🦇own a plasma fruit orchard (vampires)

🦇if you don't own vampires own and fruit orchard worth around 10,000 simolions (decorations in the orchard do contribute to the 10,000 simolions)

🦇live in a mansion

🦇reach level 10 in piano or pipe organ skill

🦇have at least 100,000 simolions

🦇have at least one enemy

🦇master the vampire lore skill and complete the vampire skill tree (vampires)

🦇if you don't own vampires unlock the never weary and forever full reward traits

[spindle-girl]

Flare 2.x

heeey Crystalclear!

Yes, it could have been an accident that the other two had yet to arrive. But accidents and coincidences could just as easily be contrivances at the hands of masterminds. The radios acting up didn’t help matters.

probably just got stuck in traffic, everyone trying to beat the new arrivals on the train to work or lunch or something

Red jacket, jeans, pointed boots, group of three, Relay communicated.  Words and ideas conveyed without being spoken.  Not telepathy, not sound, but impressions.

wildbow is really dying on the hill that psychics aren't a thing lol

He was aware as heads throughout the crowd turned, their focus shifting to Relay, to the train, to the officers.  For most, the light around them refracted into kaleidoscopic structures, cone or beak shaped, pointed this way and that.  At the ends farthest from the points of focus, the open ends of the cones splayed out into nimbuses, auras, fractures.

but in all seriousness it is fun to see how he describes thinker senses. unless there's a particularly cool passage just assume i really enjoy the narration for this interlude and won't add it all to save space

Unlike many  of them, he had waited nearly six months for access, because he’d been open about the fact he had powers.  A mistake, because they had wanted to be careful, it had meant he had needed weeks and months of screens, of interviews and background checks, while other people passed through.

that does suck, but you do get a job and an apartment easily enough if i remember how they handled Ashley correctly

You’re in the weeds, Relay communicated. Crystalclear lifted his walkie-talkie to his mouth.  “Weeds?” Not entirely with us.  Lost, or in a bit of a daze.

iirc Tattletale had Grue snap her out of losing focus in her power as well. i wonder if Relay has had to do this for other thinkers, or if others have helped him with it

“It’s redundancy,” Big Picture said.  He made a sound, almost a laugh.  “Everything I want to focus on, I clone my brain and my mind.  I can give each and every detail every bit of my attention, and I can slow down my perceptions if I want to study it more.  There are a few other nuances, other things I can do with the parallel takes, sharing, but you don’t need all of the details.”

flash time! still sounds like hell. we are also not going subtle on the metaphors here either. Big Picture being trapped in his mind to overthink a scenario as much as he wants and Cyrstalclear being unable to see people's expressions and the general world (crystal) clearly

“Raththputin,” Ratcatcher said.  She picked up a walkie-talkie, “The attractive older gentleman in the peacoat, hairy earth and eyelatheth to die for.  Thomething thown into the coat.  Naughty.”

i think i've seen some jokes about Ratcatcher being a Chitter clone, but really her naming her rats after puns, naming them at all, is the biggest stopper to that being a real theory

Sierra Kiley, Relay communicated.  Board member of Rock Bay Reconstruction Group.  That’s one of the biggest construction firms, with its roots in Brockton Bay.  She’s a candidate for mayor of the Megalopolis, but she’s not expected to win.  Foresight thinks she has her hat in the ring for other reasons.  Access, possibly.  We know she has ties to organized crime, if you couldn’t guess from her background in Brockton Bay.  She doesn’t necessarily know we know.

Sierra! tbh, i don't have that much care tied to her from Worm, but i guess it's nice to see her

The police had been upset, angry, hostile.  His lawyer had been frustrated, because anything, anything at all could have led to a plea deal or him getting off free.  His ‘aunt’ and her boyfriend were upset, because they blamed him for their being arrested, and they had used a proxy to threaten him.

*looks at a kidnapped kid* ah yes, let's blame him shall we

“Are you married, Ms. Kiley?” the theocrat asked.

what pleasant folk

“They’ve been giving us supply for nothing?” Nieves asked, raising his voice.  “You idiots.  You’ve profited off of their so-called generosity, but you’ve been selling us out.”

i am not looking forward to more of this guy

“I’m in,” Relay said.  “But you already guessed that.”

Relay's been a fun addition. he's really cocky lol

End Notes:

by chance, as anyone asked if Crystalclear is the Scion version of Gallant's shard? interesting enough he got physical mutations as well, but not impossible for non-vial capes especially with him being able to remove them with some pain

[lovethistoomuch]

10 characters 10 fandoms

I was tagged by @birdkeeperklink thank you so much! I really had to think on these since, as per my url you can guess there are a lot. (sorry for the late reply. I got no excuse, really, except life continued to happen around me and deciding who to pick was really hard.)

in no particular order (though Loki is Number 1, I'm sorry everyone else), here we go:

1. Loki Odinson from MARVEL

I just love him so much I've written a 78K fix-it fantasy novel (not finished) to give him the happy ending he deserves. there is no other character I identify with harder than this one: a younger sibling full of rage, always feeling overshadowed by the older one, just wanting to prove their own worth and show the world that they are capable (i got over this a lot in recent years but my love for him still remains.)

Tom just plays him so perfectly and I am so heartbroken that the writers at MARVEL did not know what to do with him, so they killed him off (the Loki show doesn't count because that's not him okay.) he's always having a good time, he's snarky and clever and desperately needs a hug. how can you not love him?

2. Mr. Spock and Leonard (Bones) McCoy from Star Trek TOS

Yes, they are two people but I just couldn't choose between them!

The grumpy surgeon with a heart of gold an the emotionally suppressed but deeply loving vulcan live in my heart rent free ever since I was a child. Spock was my first crush ever and his complicated relationship with McCoy has always fascinated me. they are two incredibly complicated people and there isn't enough space here to describe why. writing them is just as much fun as watching them and I actually own the autographs of both Leonard and De.

3. James Wilson from House M.D.

he's a man of many contradictions: he is kind but also House's best friend, he loves people dearly but can also tell them to fuck off. he is confident and funny and he helps people without being a pushover. he loves all of his his wives but cheats at least once. he is a walking mystery which makes him a great friend for House and a nightmare to write. I just love him! also, that smile!

4. Castiel from Supernatural

Cas is the character, truly! he can go from nerdy to badass in the blink of an eye. a cosmic being that plays dress up just to make one human smile, who should be nothing but an ant to him. he fiercely protects the people he loves and always tries to do the right thing. the character that inserted himself into the story against the writer's will and changed the narrative for ever. when he came on the show, I hated his guts. and look at me now...

5. Zuko from Avatar the last Aribender

you simply cannot talk about redemption arcs without mentioning Zuko at some point. an exceptional character amongst a cast of exceptional characters. I once joked that 90% of his lines were just him screaming but that poor boy has so much rage inside him, and with all that trauma, can you really blame him? he is the epitome of character growth and a fascinating example of how the villain can become a hero without taking any shortcuts.

6. Stephen Maturin from the Aubrey-Maturin series

if you read the books, you'll know why. this fucking lunatic is so oblivious to his own eccentricities that you just have to love him. nobody does it quite like him to be honest. no, Stephen, people will not think you're eccentric because you practice sword fighting on deck, however they might think that because you let loose 1000 bees on the ship and run around naked. he has no sense for proper etiquette and i love him so much for it. also, he get's on a ship without being able to swim and performs open brain surgery on deck. he is incredibly skilled and the best damn doctor in the entire fleet. also, his dynamic with his best friend/captain is one of the best friendships I've ever seen/read.

7. Scrooge McDuck

this might be an unusual choice but i grew up reading comics and at one point in my life i figured out that all of my favourite stories were writen and drawn by the legendary Don Rosa, who in his book "the life and times of Scrooge McDuck" created one of the most fascinating and fun to watch characters i've ever seen. starting from humble beginnings and rising to the top through his percevierence, fearlessness and ingenuity, inevitably losing everything he loved and ending up alone, only to be found by his family again, his story is one of my absolute favourites in literature. i know that due the never ending nature of comic books, he can never truly get his happy ending but I really wished he could.

8. Keeley Jones from Ted Lasso

I don't think I've ever seen a woman like her in any media to be honest. she is so clearly feminine and embodies all the traits of a woman that would normally be depicted as bitchy, toxic and self obsessed but she is just none of those things. she is a girly woman who loves pink and cries and she is just so human and lovely and i love her so much for it! her friendship with Rebecca is also so amazing and feels very real and true to what friendships between woman are actually like. I just love her as a beacon of healthy femininity and can only hope that there will be more characters like her in the future!

9. Kim Kitsuragi from Disco Elysium

the voice, the looks, the everything! the moment I met him I knew I wanted him to be my best friend for ever! his deadpan delivery combined with his dorkyness and his shere competence had me on the floor on multiple occasions. I have not finished the game yet but I have never had a companion this incredible in any video game ever! I could listen to him read the phone book for hours. when he went "daba doop doop dead" I died. also him jumping in when I fail a check has to be the most badass thing ever. I love you, Kim. please be proud of me. (also, I know he probably has a darker side to him that I am not seeing right now because I am always choosing the nice options but hey, the best characters are the complicated ones.)

10. Cole Turner from Charmed

this show was so much better when he was in it! the half demon who crosses over to the good side without ever really changing his ways. he burns someone alive and laughs about it, drags a detective to hell and doesn't give a shit about civilians. even when he is completely human his solution to assholes is to punch them in the face. he loves power and controling others and looking good while doing it. I know him beind "good" was a whole thing on the show but to me the most fun about him was that he continued being evil but was now using his powers to help the good guys. show me another character that got redeemed into the hero team without losing his evil edge. Cole was just so much fun to watch but unfortunately his character got totally buthcered by bad writing.

No pressure of doing this but tagging:

@catzy88, @uponxhorhaus, @accrov