#pause i got a will wood quote for this

[404shcats]

3-4 am are like the worst hours, idk what it is it’s just the worst time of the day. -Medds

[gay-dorito-dust]

Will you do a scenario of how we’d meet Bill for the first time and what he would be like if you were sort of “friends”? 🙏

You were minding your business while walking through the woods of Gravity Falls, just needing a change of scenery and finding the woods to be the perfect place to do so with it’s mushrooms, flowers and the wildlife that crossed your path.

Everything was seemingly fine and not out of the ordinary until you started to feel like you were being watched from somewhere, you looked to see if you could spot anyone, but all you could see were birch trees that had markings on the bark that suspiciously looked like eyes. You were just about thinking of leaving until you heard a voice from somewhere.

‘Hey kiddo!’

You looked to the left, nothing

‘Other way kid.’

the to the right, nothing

‘Colder.’

Up? Nope, nothing.

‘You’re practically an human popsicle at this point.’

How about looking down? Still nothing. Now you were getting confused, scared and annoyed.

You heard the voice sigh and say ‘you’re starting to make me feel sad, here I’ll make this a little easier for you.’ Then before you could say anything, a small yellow triangle with one eye wearing a top hat and bow tie appeared before you.

‘It’s great to finally meet you y/n.’ It said and immediately you were freaked out.

‘Who are you and how did you know my name?’ You asked, uneasy.

‘The names Bill Cipher and I know lots of things, lots of things.’ Bill replied, shrugging. ‘Wanna see what I can do?’ He adds after a brief pause but before you could answer him, he held his hand out to a nearby deer as its teeth were taken out of its mouth and into his small hand in a neat pile. ‘Deer teeth for you kid hehe.’ He then chuckled as he dumped the pile of deer teeth into your hands.

You on the other hand didn’t find this funny and fought the urge to vomit as you offered Bill the deer teeth back. ‘Mind giving the deer its teeth back? I’m sure it has more use for them than either of us.’ You ask as Bill did as you asked and gave the deer its teeth back as it galloped off elsewhere, leaving you alone with the weird triangle in the woods. Everything that had happened within the past five minutes had been overwhelming for you, too overwhelming that you had to sit yourself down on the trunk of a fallen tree and put your head in your hands, muttering to yourself.

‘This isn’t real, this is all some weird fever dream or I’m tripping balls. There’s no other explanation.’

Bill only chuckled as he floated next to you and patted you on the shoulder. ‘There, there human I can reassure you that what you just saw was very much real.’

You looked at him from your hands, unamused. ‘You fucking suck at comforting people you know that?’

‘I think we’ll get along great!’ Bill chirped gleefully.

‘We absolutely will not.’ You replied but you had an inkling that your opinion on the matter didn’t matter.

Now onto how bill would be if you were sort of ‘friends.’

He’s got a weird way about showing his feelings in any capacity.

The little shit put rats, dead rats outside your door, spelling out your name on random ass occasions that made it look like to others that a) you were haunted or b) had a weird stalker who liked to form your name out of dead rats.

He doesn’t want you having friends outside of him because and I quote ‘I’m the only friend you need, why bother with anyone else. So don’t even try cuz I’ll be watching you.’

Will leave sticky post it notes anywhere and everywhere saying to get more silly straws or else he’ll find a way to possess you and make you do embarrassing shit. Ie: walk through town in your underwear, make you speak backwards, kick a child-

Bill was a brat and his pranks were often traumatic but apparently they were ‘light’ in comparison to the stuff he did to his other meat puppets. You didn’t ask any further questions about what he meant by that in fear that he’d show you one as an example.

You are probably the only person who bill has told about his secret technique with mascara and eyeliner, even seeing him do it once when he insisted that you had a ‘sleepover’ at your place. He even points the mascara brush at you warningly as he threatened that you were to never tell people about this or else.

His version of jealousy when he sees you spending time with others is to trash your house and try to act cute when you catch him in the act. You don’t fall for this and give Bill the silent treatment for the rest of the day as he practically lost his shit over your lack of attention.

Probably air horned you awake once.

Bill Wouldn’t tell you this but he make your enemies do stupid shit that resulted in their deaths, for fun he claims but he didn’t want his favourite meat sack to start leaking water from their eyes every time something went wrong in their life. So he just cuts them out in the most brutal way possible.

Bill was stuck to you like glue and there’s was no way to hide from him as he would ultimately appears where you are, even if you’re in the fucking shower, he don’t care.

Bill: *appears in shower* my favourite meat sack have you- stop screaming it’s only me, have you seen a king cobra anywhere, I must’ve dropped it somewhere here-

He probably once threatened you with the whole ‘steal your eyes’ thing like he did with Ford but you had witness enough of Bill’s behaviour to know that he was joking about that, to which he was proud and would magically make a cake filled with worms, bugs and other unpleasant things appear in celebration.

You may or may not have been sick that day.

Your and Bills friendship was weird, probably not the healthiest in all honestly and you should seek help and or maybe therapy for the shit he’s out you through.

You were his property, you were his pet, HIS MEAT SACK and you wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without him knowing and or being nearby in hopes of catching your eye.

Just a yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat and bow tie floating ominously in the background was enough to unnerve anyone.

You had no freedom as far as you were concerned in this ‘friendship’ but bill likes to claim that he has given you the most freedom out of anyone who has ever existed.

[sightoru]

i'm not ready to let go of you. “ + Izuku? Please and thank you

Deku + I'm not ready to let you go

[Anon, you didn't pick a body part tho tbh not a big deal. I chose eyes for you.

Poem is "Sorrow is Not My Name by Ross Gay"

tw: angst but the ending is hopeful. happy endings only here.]  ——————————————————————————

Green is your favorite color. 

It's the color of the grass after the snow melts, it's the color of your bedspread and kitchen cabinets. It's the color of the avocado you smash on every sandwich you eat, and the color of the caterpillars that hang out in your garden. 

Green is also the color of Izuku's impossibly wide eyes, and they're currently pleading with you to stay. 

"I'm sorry I forgot about dinner," he whines, and you hate the tugging in your chest you feel at the pitch of his voice. "There was a villain and my students were there and I just had to make sure they were all safe. I'm so sorry I know we've had this planned for a while now."  You made reservations months in advance. The new restaurant was something you looked forward to trying, something fancy and high end. You, a fellow teacher, saved up for months just to be able to go, knowing that both your teacher salaries don't often allow for luxuries like dinners at nice restaurants. 

You look away from him, folding your legs to your chest, "I just…." you pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I was really looking forward to it." You don't want to say anymore. You don't trust yourself enough to keep the shake out of your voice. 

There's something about the quiet way you say it that makes Izuku's chest feel like black whip is wrapped around him; takes the air out of his lungs. He remembers your first date, years ago, when he decided to become a teacher and you were endlessly supportive of that — despite being a stranger. 

He remembers when you moved your stuff in, shades of green and white and brown took over the apartment. Pictures were hung on the wall (memories made, places seen, inside jokes created), green onions rest in a mason jar full of water near the sink (you refuse to let anything go to waste). You shoes are next to his, comparably untidy. The wood of your furniture is everywhere (the TV stand you found on the side of the road, the coffee table bought off Facebook marketplace. the bookshelf you got from a friend moving cross country. You're all over his life now, painting his world in shades of green.)

He remembers a poem he read long ago that reminds him of that moment. You quoted it to him once, "My colors green," you said. "I'm spring." He remembers all the things he loves about you: how easily you pull him off the brink, how you snort when you laugh. The way your lips purse when you're in thought. How your head naturally cocks slightly to the left. 

"Honey," he says, and the words stick the same way in his mouth, "I'm not ready to let you go. I'm sorry, I'll set boundaries with myself. I'll try to be better. For you."

For you, for you, for you, the words echo in your head and make you feel like you're swimming. It reminds you of the movie you both like, the main character telling his love interest, as you wish. For months after the first time you both watched it, the words were uttered constantly, 

"How am I supposed to feel," You ask, "when the task seems impossible? I feel awful I even have to say anything. We're both teachers. We both know how important raising the future is. I'm just…" words escape you for a moment. You glance up at him, take in the scar on his handsome face, "I'm just not as sure about this anymore."  He doesn't have to ask you what this is. He already knows, and the metaphorical black whip tightens around his chest. "I can quit," he offers. But you both know he's lying. 

He would never, and that's okay with you. You don't want him to feel like he has to choose between his passion and you. You just don't want to be forgotten. Something about it stirs up grimy childhood feelings — abandonment from your parents. Abandonment from your friends. 

("That sounds lonely," he told you once, after you shared childhood memories with him. "You…" he pauses, tastes the words in his mouth. "You don't have to be lonely again." 

You believed him, foolishly enough. To be fair, he kept his promise, until this past year.)

It makes you feel green. Green, like the olive branch he's trying to extend. You look over at him, trying to focus and keep the blur out of your eyes. "Don't do that," you say. "Just don't make plans with me you can't keep."

"I won't," he tells you eagerly, bundling you up in his arms."never again." he mutters into your hair. You pull away slightly, angle your face to his and take in the green of his eyes; the soft texture of his hair and the smattering of freckles across his tanned face. 

And what are you supposed to do when he holds you like that? When he sounds like that? His hands are so warm and tangled in your hair and his fingers are pressed into your back and all you can think about is how over and over and over again you'd devote yourself to him. It does not matter if he hurts you, it does not matter if you hurt him. The only choice you have is to believe him. 

So you do. 

[yellowwithalisp]

could you possible write some headcannons for a hobie x a cottagecore/preppy reader? im a sucker for “opposites attract” romances 🥰

( cottagecore YESSSSS! I got this! using she/her reader for this! Ask if you want a part two!!- Yellow 💛🌻) (Not proofed read. ) "She livessy in the middle of the woods?" The Spider he was talking to on the elevator nods. "Yeah, she's not exactly my quote-on-quote. "man in the chair" but. She lives in the woods in a cabin. Bought herself a bit of land and made a house there. Grows her own food and everything. Has a weird thing with mushrooms." "A weird thing with mushrooms?"

"If you buy her anything with mushrooms on it, she will not stop smiling for at least five minutes straight.." Hobie hummed, his shoulders shifting slightly as his hands are resting in his pockets walking a bit more slowly to continue the conversation. "So she lives by her own rules."

"I haven't been able to see one person tell her what to do. I mean she's sweet as a bee but, she mainly follows her own rules." "She's go' good taste." He managed to convince her Spider to introduce her to him. They warped to her home and it really was in the middle of nowhere. There was smoke rising from the chimney of your house as they see someone moving around in the house. They waited outside as a woman stepped out onto her porch in a button-up vest and a ruffled dress as she picked over some herbs that were growing on the porch. The Spider waved as they started to approach her. Hobie followed from behind. Spider took off their mask and waved at her. She looked up from the herbs she was cutting for her food and looked at Spiderman and their friend. "A new friend from work I see?" She asked with a soft smile as she looked back down and started to pick some tomatoes that look ready to eat. Spider nods as they gestured to Hobie. "(Y/N), this is Spiderpunk, Spiderpunk." Hobie looked slightly annoyed. "C'ome on, you know I hate labels." (Y/N) smiled softly as she looked at the spike mohawk spider as she cut some salad greens. "Then would friend be alright to call you for now?" She asked as she smiled. Hobie nods as Spider looked back and forth at the two. "Ya, that's alright mate." She invited them to enter a house for a meal she was just about finishing making it when they arrived. "I wasn't expecting company but thankfully I made a bigger batch than normal hopefully you don't mind tacos."

She said that she brought the things that she cut from outside over to the cutting board and started chopping them up and putting them in small wooden bowls. "Spider can you grab three glasses of water please and put them on the table?" They nod head to say walked over to one of the cabinets and open up and grab three glasses with little mushrooms on them. Seeing the small mushrooms on the glasses reminded Hobie of something. He quietly stepped out for a moment through a portal outside he arrived back a few minutes later. He opened up the door and then walked back into the house with something behind his back. "So my friend here said you had a thing for mushrooms." the cottagecore girl was busy putting everything on the table as she paused and looked up at him. A smile on her face as she nods her head. "I just think they're adorable! And Their fun to go hunting for!" He pulled on a mushroom hat for behind his back and tossed it at her. She blinks and was surprised and quickly caught it and looked at the hat for a second, before holding it close to her chest spinning around happily. Spider looked over at Hobie and slowly put a chip in their mouth. "Smoth..." (Y/N) kissed the top of the hat and looked over at Spider. "He can stay."

[deuxcherise]

Collar Crimes: Cat Burglar

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, cat boy oc, yandere OC, yandere male, gender neutral reader, reader is a bit of a blank, fluff (?), mentions crime, mentions alcohol, includes cute cat pic for reference A/n: So I had read that weasels are just like cats, especially when it comes to bringing back a hunt, and… I haven't written about a cat boy yet… That's like the first animal people usually write about… So now I did! And this is kind of a sequel to Weasel In. Enjoy~

Masterlist | Part 0, Part 1, Part 2 (you're here!), Part 3 (1/2)

You’re starting to make peace with the fact that you will never live a normal, peaceful life ever again. Not with how Eris had somehow weaseled his way into your everyday.

It is just… easier, really, letting him do what he wants, so long as he doesn't take things too far. With your 9-to-5 customer service job taking its daily heavy toll on your social battery, having to pretend 40 hours every week of being this peppy, happy-go-lucky person you aren’t so you can pay your bills, it all really makes you want to just quit, become a lazy blob, and waste away. But you don’t. The economy in this damn city isn't so kind to the average person after all.

“I'm really serious, (Y/n)! You should let me install some cameras!” Eris insists.

“For the last time, no,” you answer. “Aren't you watching over my house now?”

A redness appears on Eris's cheeks and he begins poking the tips of his fingers together. “Y-yeah… about that…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I… also got a job. So I can help you pay the bills! Actually, you can quit your job now and let me take care of you!”

The heck? What happened to being a stay-at-home maid he— not that you wanted him to! This is just completely the opposite of what he proposed to you about a few weeks ago!

“Uh… no. What's with the change of mind all of a sudden?” you ask. “What job?

Eris bites his lip and looks away. “Just thought it was better…”

-----🔔-----

[Yesterday…]

“Really? And what did your ‘lover’ say?”

Eris slaps his buddy on the shoulder. “Quit it with the air quotes. (Y/n) loves me and I love them. I didn’t get rejected! It's only a matter of time before they fully accept me. I just need to… get rid of all those flies.”

“You mean customers?”

Eris slams his fists against the wood of the bar, shaking the iced alcohol in the cups next to them.

“Don’t you get it!? They're taking advantage of (Y/n)! I can't let those flies ruin their life like this! Did you know (Y/n)’s losing weight nowadays? Not eating properly, not sleeping properly— I'm the worst! I need to speed things up or sooner or later… I'm going to…” Eris covers his face and starts sobbing into his hands.

His friend attempts to comfort Eris on the back, before an idea comes into his head. He says, “Hey, why don't you get a job? If (Y/n)—”

Eris immediately pauses and raises his head to glare at him with vicious eyes, promising a fate worse than death.

“Sorry, your lover,” his friend coughs. “If you get a job, then your lover can see just how reliable you are. Maybe that’s why they keep rejecting your offer to be a… maid. Maybe they’re more into that.”

The light in Eris's eyes appears brightly, his face softening as he processes this information. “That's— Oh, thank you, thank you, Ollie! I was right to come to you for help with my problems. You're the best!” he says, grabbing some dollar bills from his pocket and slamming his tip down for the bartender before leaving the club swiftly.

The bartender swipes and pockets the money before resuming wiping the glass. She looks at her boss and raises an eyebrow. “You aren't going to stop him?”

Ollie smirks and takes a sip of his glass, raising a finger. A second later, Eris comes back in and sits back down next to Ollie with determination in his eyes. “Ollie–”

“Yeah. You can start tomorrow.”

“Really??? You da man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Consider it a favor, as a trusted friend,” Ollie says, rolling the ice ball in his cup. “Now, what kind of job are you looking for?”

Eris thinks for a moment. “Need anything with security?”

Much to the bartender’s confusion, Ollie shrugs and says, “Alright. Bouncer it is. Dad was looking to retire anyway. 4 PM on the dot. Shift ends at 10, when Lyn shows up to take over, 10:30, if you take a break.”

“Great! Anything else?”

“That's it for now. Your lover must be coming home soon, right?”

“Right! Okay! Thank you so much, Ollie. Owe you one! Bye! See you tomorrow!”

Ollie raises his glass as Eris once again exits the club. The bartender gives her boss an incredulous look. “Sir, with all due respect, Mr. Eris is…”

Ollie chuckles. “Ah. Well, you've only just met him. Back in the day, when it was just the two of us against the world, I was the brains and he was the brawn. Completely unstoppable…” he sighs, placing his cup down with a little more force than expected. “What kind of person do you think (Y/n) is to turn someone like him into such a pathetic simp?”

“... Who knows?” the bartender answers.

“... Tch.”

-----🔔-----

[Night time…]

For the first time in a very long while, you went to bed by yourself.

…..

You had wished him good luck on his new job, which he took as immense praise. You were honestly pretty happy for him. Now he'll be too busy to commit any crimes around your apartment. Maybe he might even be too busy to bother you!

….. 

It wasn't like… you missed Eris. In fact, this is better for the both of you! You aren't even lovers or anything like that!

…..

Maybe… you may have… accidentally… gotten used to the way Eris's head curled up under your chin, and… the ways his arms wrapped around your torso, and… the way his legs tangled with yours, and… how he'd sometimes murmur stupid things like, “I love you” or “Marry me” in his sleep.

…..

Whatever! You roll and face to the other side of your bed. It strangely feels a lot bigger than you remember. You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to will yourself to sleep.

Creeeaaaak.

You quickly sit up straight, expecting to see Eris. Instead you face some stranger, glaring down at you with strangely illuminated eyes.

Next thing you know, the stranger has you back down on your bed with an iron grip wrapped around your throat. Tight enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cut off your air supply.

“Huh… I don't understand what he sees in you,” the intruder comments

“W-who?” you croak, clawing at their arm.

The intruder narrows his cat-like eyes at you, pupils moving erratically as they scrutinize you. “I could easily kill you right now…” he spits, before letting go of your neck, “but I won't. Only because Eris is my friend.”

The moment he lets go, you grab your neck and massage the forming bruise, inhaling all of the air you can get as you absorb the situation.

Eris?? Oh great! He's not here to snugg— be your hugging pillow as per usual, and now a friend of his came all the here who knows where to threaten you? For being associated with him? Great. You're glad at least this one isn't strangely fascinated by you like Eris is. It's a nice change of pace from the usual.

Ollie is somehow strangely fascinated by you. He expected a bigger reaction. You're more quiet and lackluster than Eris had described you to be, like right now probably lost in your thoughts. Are you really Eris’s type? Eris, the type of person who just chases and strikes whenever and whoever he pleases? You don't look afraid of him at all, and it pisses him off. What's with that blank face of yours, huh??

The intruder looks pissed off for some reason, with how narrow his eyes are and the way he hisses under his breath. You try to think of words to say to the intruder, only for your stomach to make its announcement with a grumble.

“You want something to eat?” you ask, nonchalantly.

“.....”

You don't wait for him to answer as you flip off the blanket and head out of the bedroom.

“O-oi! Wait a second! How dare you walk away from me!” he calls out.

You pay him no mind and open up the fridge, revealing a few plastic-covered dishes made by Eris for you to eat over a span of several days. You ignore the pang in your chest as you grab one of them out that had rice in it to reheat a portion of it in a bowl in the microwave.

Ollie stands a distance from you, brows furrowed at how ridiculous this situation is. A stranger just broke into your home, without a key, and you're here just offering to feed him? What the heck…

As you wait for the microwave to finish, you suddenly feel nostalgic about how you met Eris.

It was during the winter, when he broke into your apartment the first time. You had been very afraid when you discovered him at that time, shrieking at him and threatening to call the police, before your rumbling tummy decided to add some unneeded humor to the situation. Too tired and famished, you had no choice but to let Eris feed you that cake he had been making while you were asleep.

Ding!

You sigh, taking out the bowl of Eris's home cooking and settling down on the couch with a pair of chopsticks before munching on it.

Ollie continues to stand there. The audacity. Didn't you offer him a bite earlier? Wasn’t that bowl meant for him? Why are you eating it by yourself!? Ollie heads over to the couch and hisses at you before he snatches the bowl from your hands.

“Excuse me??” you snap.

“Hmph!” He takes the chopsticks and starts shoveling down the rice and toppings, much to your horror. Once he's licked it completely clean, he throws it onto the ground without much concern.

…..

WHAT THE HECK!? You stand up. “HEY! What the heck are you doing? Don't just throw stuff on the ground! Who raised you??”

Ollie flinches, having not expected your voice to reach as loud as it did.

You immediately walk past him, crouch down and pick up the luckily unbroken bowl and pair of chopsticks. “No manners, tch,” you mutter under your breath as you head to the sink.

His eyes follow you, his mouth agape. Your face is visibly angry, different from your blank face and nonchalant attitude earlier…

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Ollie places a hand over his chest at this strange sensation. As you're washing the bowl and chopsticks to reuse and get some more of Eris's cooking, he plans to say something, maybe an apology, only to spot a photo on the coffee table in front of the couch. It's a picture of a child version of you and two adults, presumably your parents.

In your minimalistic living room with only a plain couch and coffee table with a lack of personal touch, this oddly looks out of place.

…..

This photo looks like something important.

Ollie smirks.

Once you’ve washed your feelings of frustration away, you turn towards the intruder to give him a lesson, but you find him gone. There is an open window with waving curtains letting in the cool night breeze.

Oh, the guy has finally left. You quickly close the window, taking relief that the weird guy has finally left. As you make yourself comfortable on the couch again with a new reheated bowl of rice, you look towards your coffee table–

Oh heck no.

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Rotten

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Summary: After a rough night, Joel Miller proves that he is much more of a man than you thought he was.

Excerpt: You didn't want him to sleep alone. You didn't want to sleep alone. You wanted Joel. You wanted this to end. And so, before he could get all the way onto his feet, you grit your teeth and said, "I heard you." He froze, sitting back down slowly, and you turned to look at him. His face had visibly paled. "What... what do you mean?" You swallowed, staring into his dark brown eyes. "On the way up here. I heard what you said to Ellie." A small smile graced your face. You could see his shoulders drop as you quoted him. "The smartest person I've ever met." He stalled for a moment, before adoring a small, awkward smile. "Oh," he said with a chuckle. "Did you mean that?" you whispered, the red flames painting the side of your face in oranges and burgundy. His eyes burned into your own as he paused. You didn't fill the air. All you did was wait.

Warnings: off canon, major descriptions of drinking, descriptions of past sexual encounters, Joel is an ass when he's drunk, fighting, silent treatment, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel's accent comes out when he's angry, Joel cannot confront his feelings to save his life, Ellie cameo, l word, kissing, suggestive ending.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hey Joel. It's been a while.

Pedro Masterlist My Writing

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(gif from pinterest)

You anticipated waking to footsteps.

Ones set at a pace of celerity, swiftness, softness. Ones in a rush to find you, but not in a rush to be heard, a weapon already in the human attached's hand, a vendetta already planted in their brain.

A vendetta to kill you in your sleep. A coward's slaughter, in your opinion.

What you did not anticipate, however, were the footsteps to be ones the complete opposite of swift and soft. They were the direct antithesis of anything attempting any sort of subtlety.

They were sloppy. Loud. Uncaring. Oblivious. Inconsistent.

But, familiar.

The rifle in your shaking hands loosened in your grip, as well as the tightness of your sheets you had wrapped around you. Your breathing slowly steadied as the stomping got closer and closer to your bedroom door, and as the door finally slammed open, the ambiance of the fan whirring above your head became intermixed with the culprit's heavy breathing.

Joel fucking Miller's heavy breathing.

You set the rifle down next to your bed as he steadied himself on his feet, dazed and dizzy with how quickly the door opened for him. He nearly slammed against the wall with it. The whiskey in his hand sloshed out of his cup as he did so.

Finally, with a shake of his head, his eyes met yours, and a wide smile etched over his face.

"Y/N," he said, stumbling his way to you. "Oh Y/N."

You said nothing. Your face painted with a drowsy, unamused expression with a hint of annoyance beginning to grow in your eyes.

He staggered his way to your bedside, setting the glass on your dark-wooded bedside table, and leaning onto the bed to bring his face close to yours. You could smell his breath, his clothes. Both were a mix of stale beer, expired cigars, and sour bourbon. He smelled greasy, sweaty, rotten.

You didn't hide your grimace. You couldn't.

"How - how are you?" he asked, still wobbling. "Ha - Is - is Ellie here?"

You fucking hated when he got like this. You fucking hated it. You declined a response, only blinking your languid, puffy eyes up at him.

"Oh, don't be like that sweetheart," he mumbled, now tucking his face into your neck and pressing your body down into the springy mattress. You didn't touch him, resorting instead to just allow him guide you. In any other situation, your heart would flutter at the feeling of this much of his body pressing against yours. Not tonight.

You were too fucking tired for his shit.

"Smell good," he said, groaning as he set his entire body weight on top of your own. "Smell so good."

You didn't even have the energy to roll your eyes.

"Joel," you said. He didn't respond. Not even a hum. "Joel."

"Hm. What?" he said, his hot, spoiled, disgusting breath coating your neck and jaw.

"It's five in the fucking morning," you said, palms still glued to the mattress beside you. "We have to be out of here in an hour. I'm not going to wake your sorry ass up."

He mumbled something incoherent against your neck as he rolled off you, eyes bloodshot, one hand on his head and the other on his stomach. "Fuck off."

You wish that was the worst thing he had ever said to you while intoxicated.

You rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and peeled the covers off you, standing up completely. You grabbed your pillow and the comforter, forcing from underneath Joel's body. He groaned as you did so.

"The fuck are you going?"

You didn't respond. Just kept walking.

"Hey -" he said, his voice booming, sending a wave of fear down your abdomen, but he was cut off by you shutting the door behind you. You sighed - deeply - as you threw your pillow on the living room couch, along with your blanket. You then walked to the kitchen sink, feet and legs erupting with goosebumps, and filled a small, slightly cracked glass with cold water. At least, as cold as sink water from a random apartment in post-apocalyptic Boston could be. You walked quietly back to the bedroom, opening the door softly. His deep, flem-filled snores gave you some relief.

You took the now lukewarm whiskey off the bedside table and replaced it with the water, as quickly and quietly as you could, before turning back around to leave.

As your bare feet padded against the floor, you heard something behind you. You thought it was an inflection in Joel's deep breaths, but as you began to close the door behind you, you were proven wrong.

"Y/N," he mumbled, so quietly you wondered if he was still asleep. "Y/N. I love you."

Your body froze on you, even as his snores once again started to fill the room. Your breaths became shaken. Your throat dried. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your hands shook.

And hot, angry tears flooded your eyes, dribbling down into your wide-open mouth.

You shut the door, stormed over to your bed for the evening, and cried yourself back to sleep.

~*~

You woke to sunlight streaming through the windows, littering over your swollen face, and a sticky pillow beneath your cheek. Your throat felt clogged and sore, as well as your muscles. You stretched yourself awake, glancing at the clock hung above the brick fireplace.

5:30. Perfect.

You wiped the crust from your eyes before standing up, your sleep shorts dangling from your hip bones, forcing you to tighten them. You walked quietly to the bathroom - washing your face, brushing your teeth, stabilizing your breaths. You then took a deep breath and headed to the bedroom; the pain of the night previous still seeping its way through your bloodstream like a strike of lightning. It was fresh. Bleeding over your psyche. Your brain. Your heart.

It still burned.

Luckily for you, both Joel and the water were long gone. You sighed from relief and walked over to your designated dresser. You slipped on jeans and a long sleeve shirt before draping your rifle and backpack over your shoulder. Your handgun remained in a locked drawer in the kitchen.

As you left your room, warm air drifted from the second bathroom down the hallway. It smelled of dish soap, shampoo, and maybe even a hint of cologne. Your nose twitched, unused to such a smell. As you entered the kitchen, however, the smell only became more pungent.

This was due to the fact that the smell was now attached to a man.

Joel stood tall - surprisingly tall - as he made himself a small cup of coffee. He was dressed to leave - loose jeans, a long sleeve grey shirt with a dark green flannel layered on top. His boots tied tightly on his feet. His hair damp from the shower. His skin golden in the rising morning rays.

And that bolt of lightning hit you all over again.

You swallowed thickly, loud enough for him to hear, and he turned around to meet your gaze.

It seemed as if a bolt of almost the same caliber hit him at the sight of you as well.

He cleared his throat once, twice, before saying softly, "You want some?" His throat was coated with exhaustion, and his under eyes were sunken deeply into his face.

You said with as much composure as you could muster, "I'm good."

You did not smile. You did not grin. You did not emote at all.

You walked past him to get your gun, unlocking the drawer quickly and taking the firearm into your hand. You checked the state of the ammo.

"You eat anything yet?" he asked you. He spoke as if you were a bomb about to blow up in his face.

This made you smile.

You popped the muzzle back in place, satisfied with the amount you had left. "Not hungry."

He chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, me neither."

God you wanted to fucking smack him.

You closed the drawer and locked it up tight, ignoring the heat rising into your cheeks and up your back. You then turned back towards the living room, hoping to pack some waters and food into your backpack, when a hand gripped around your forearm. It wasn't harsh, but it was firm.

You nearly elbowed him in the mouth. Nearly.

He looked you in the eye as he spoke - at least, he tried to. His breath now smelled of mint and coffee with a hint of his precious vanilla creamer.

"Hey," he said, his eyes filled with remorse, "about... about me, last night -"

About me.

The iteration of those two words finally snapped your brain in half, and without thinking twice, you ripped your arm from his grip and used your other arm to push him backwards into the kitchen island, effectively pinning him there. His somber eyes turned cold with shock, and maybe even fear.

"If you say 'me' one more fucking time -," you whisper yelled, face inches away from him, nostrils flared, body heated with rage. You could feel your entire arm shaking against his chest. " - I will leave you here and take this kid myself, got it?"

His chest rose up and down quickly, and a single bead of sweat dripped down his nose.

"Do you hear me?"

He nodded. Begrudgingly, but he nodded.

"Never - ever - come into my bed like that again," you said, brain and heart roaring with every emotion under the sun you were surprised you got any words out at all. "Never touch me like that again, never speak to me like that again, and never even come close to me when you are in that state of mind ever again. I am not your fucking caretaker. You want to OD in the middle of the night, fuck some random bitch be my guest, but I do not want to hear one word about it."

Tears started streaming down your face as you spoke, and you could have sworn a small puddle had gathered in Joel's left eye as well.

You scoffed, removing your arm from him. Rage still overriding every single logical thought you had.

"You are lucky I didn't kick you out and leave you on the fucking street," you said, walking away from him now. Your heart was banging against your chest so harshly you felt nauseated.

Maybe later you would think you were too harsh. Too mean. Too vengeful. Too much.

In that moment, you couldn't give less of a fuck.

You finished packing your backpack in your bedroom. Alone.

Joel did not leave that spot against the island for some time.

~*~

Joel's head was throbbing. A mix of hangover, regret, anger, and confusion giving his brain the perfect cocktail for a migraine.

Ellie's nagging voice trailing behind him didn't help matters.

"Come on," she said, a notable whine in the teenager's voice. Despite already having been on the road for three hours, she kept good pace with him, never once faltering from his stride. "I heard you two arguing this morning. Actually, correction, I was woken up by the two of you arguing this morning, so I think I deserve at least some sort of explanation."

This caused Joel to look up ahead of him to you, walking ahead of both him and Ellie by what seemed to him like at least half a mile, but in actuality, was not even a quarter.

It was far enough, however, that both him and Ellie assumed you could not a hear anything they were saying. An assumption that would bite Joel in the ass later.

Your steps on the forest path were calm, steady, consistent. Your back was straight and strong. You appeared to not have even broken a sweat, despite the humidity of the Massachusetts air.

Joel, on the other hand, was sweating in places he didn't even know he could.

He only exhaled in response to Ellie's pleas.

"What are you two anyway? Boyfriend and girlfriend, really good friends, fuck buddies -"

"Enough," he said sternly, and kept walking, wiping the sweat off his brow.

How did you seem to look completely unaffected, while he felt like he was melting into the forest floor?

He knew it wasn't just the heat that was making him feel so goddamn lousy.

Ellie was silent for a while, allowing Joel to finally force himself to think about something else - anything else - besides the words he said to you the night previous.

It didn't work. Nothing worked.

He was such a fucking coward.

Before Joel could really begin his spiral of self hatred, Ellie interrupted.

"Does she even know where she's leading us?" she asked, sounding suddenly annoyed. "We've been walking three hours without a break, let alone any sort of end in sight. Did she even tell you where we're going? I swear it's like we've been walking in circles."

Joel's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Ellie was quiet for a few moments, taking large gulps of her water as she followed Joel silently. It wasn't until the three of you made it to one of the biggest hills Joel had ever seen and you began to climb it that she spoke up once again.

"Are you fucking serious," she complained, sounding like a child. "Does that woman even know how long we've been fucking walking fo -"

Joel finally snapped. He knew why couldn't help but defend you. Of course he knew. He admitted it to you merely hours before.

He spun on his heel, facing her completely, and blocked her stride with his body. He waved his pointer finger in her face, contained icy rage present in his tone and eyes.

“That woman," he said, voice dark and venomous, "is the smartest person I have ever met. Do not question her until she gives you a reason to, and do not talk about her that way ever again, ya hear?"

He could tell he stunned the poor girl - her eyes wider than saucers and mouth agape. She immediately nodded in response, swallowing grimly, and Joel nodded as well.

"Good," he said, noticing his hands beginning to shake. "Now come on."

When you finally made it to the top of the hill, the three of you took a short break, coated in only awkward silence and audible chewing sounds, before you carried on.

~*~

The sun was beginning to set when you finally made it to your lodging for the evening. It was an old, dark wood cabin, stashed with old cans of soup, ammunition, and a shit ton of guns. You had used it for a base many times in the period before you met Joel.

You always wondered how beautiful it must have looked before the world went to hell.

You ate your meal alone, sitting by the fireplace as you did. Your eyes felt heavy and sunken, as well as your muscles. You were enjoying the noise of only the crackling fire in your ears.

Until, Joel made his way to you, sitting next to you on the floor, a glass of cold water in his hands.

As he sat next to you, you felt your psyche tear you in two.

Half of you wanted to get up and walk away. Yell at him. Scoff at him. Roll your eyes at him. Make every bodily movement you made prove to him how fucking angry you were. You didn't want to hear an apology. You were sick of his empty words, never filled with proof in his actions.

The other half of you, however, kept replaying the way he defended you without a second thought.

The smartest person he had ever met.

You wanted to know if that was true. Among other things.

On top of this, your body couldn't help but become...at ease around Joel. For as long as you two had been together - in bed or otherwise - you had developed a kind of comfort when he was around you. You were so familiar with each other, so used to each other's presence, that you had a hard time not feeling a little bit at home with his body and breathing near you.

You were being pulled in these two different directions - one by your head, the other by your heart - when Joel cleared his throat next to you.

"I -" he stopped, correcting himself, "you did a...a really great job today. This cabin is incredible. And safe. You're...you're truly incredible."

You bit at your lip, pulling the skin off of it in nervousness. You didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to say anything back to me," he said, solemnly. "I just...you deserve to know that. You deserve... a hellova lot better than me."

You hadn't faced each other yet. The two of you just staring into the fire, watching the wood crackle and the flames grow and grow. It was then, however, that his gaze burned into the side of your head.

"And..." he said, inhaling sharply, "...and I am sorry for how I acted. I... don't deserve your forgiveness, but I can promise you it will never, ever happen again."

He stared at you for some time, but you couldn't bring yourself to look back. To face him and by default everything that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. You couldn't do it.

And so, Joel nodded, and began to stand up, likely headed to bed.

You didn't want him to sleep alone. You didn't want to sleep alone. You wanted Joel. You wanted this to end.

And so, before he could get all the way onto his feet, you grit your teeth and said, "I heard you."

He froze, sitting back down slowly, and you turned to look at him. His face had visibly paled. "What... what do you mean?"

You swallowed, staring into his dark brown eyes. "On the way up here. I heard what you said to Ellie."

A small smile graced your face. You could see his shoulders drop as you quoted him. "The smartest person I've ever met."

He stalled for a moment, before adoring a small, awkward smile. "Oh," he said with a chuckle.

"Did you mean that?" you whispered, the red flames painting the side of your face in oranges and burgundy.

His eyes burned into your own as he paused. You didn't fill the air. All you did was wait.

He deserved a minute to face his fear, just as you had.

When he finally did speak, his voice was confident. Unwavering. "Yes. I meant it." He took a deep breath. "And I also meant what I said to you last night."

Your heart rate accelerated, as well as your breathing. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

You caught your breath as best as you could before saying softly, "Then say it. Say what you said to me last night."

His adam's apple bulged as he swallowed, and said without blinking. "I love you, Y/N. I'm in love with you. I have been for... for a while."

Instead of replying with your words, you leaned into him, and replied with a kiss.

His lips were wet from the water, and his breath tasted of warm soup and hot air. You smiled into the kiss, satisfied that he had finally started eating again, and he smiled too. He brought you closer by placing both of his palms on your cheeks, and brushing his tongue against your lips. You allowed him to enter happily, groaning slightly at the passion he was bringing into it. You kissed him back just as harshly, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip, hands in his soft hair, chests pressed together.

You couldn't even count the amount of times you and Joel had kissed before. You knew what he liked, how he kissed on couches versus beds, pressed against walls versus on the floor. You knew his body better than he did.

But this was different. This wasn't just an escape. This was real.

It was addictive.

You couldn't help yourself. You pulled him on top of you by his shirt, praying Ellie was a deep sleeper, the heat of the fire and his body making a small layer of sweat coat your body. Your kisses picked up speed, the desperation for the other present in every aspect of your beings. It was cooking the both of you alive.

As his hands began to wander up to the zipper on your jeans, you pulled away from his mouth, lips burning from his scruff. You knew it was now, or never.

"Joel," you said, voice lust and love filled. "I'm so fucking in love with you."

He smiled down at you, eyes filling with tears, and he kissed you again and again and again. Everywhere he could. Anywhere he could reach.

Whispering the same three words over and over again.

I love you I love you I love you.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @untitledarea​ @avengersfan25 @lexloon​ @aninnai​ @darling-murdock​  @daphne-turner​ @ellesvoid @morks-watermelon @notmyideia @farintonorth @axshadows @biggestsimponhere @thepascalofus @paleidiot @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, ZombieCleo, 6/09/24

((Since the first few of these I did seem to be going over well so far, I'm doing some more and we'll see how it goes. I am going to call them Recaps from now on though, because in almost every case I'm working off the VOD, pausing, going back to figure out who said and did what, etc. This Recap is from Cleo's Twitch VOD for Sunday, 6/09. I watched the stream live but parts of it were moving much too fast to note down accurately!))

0:00 Cleo goes live. She is on the Hermitcraft server, in the front yard of her base. She says hello to everyone, especially the weirdos in chat. She realizes the chat has been left in emote-only mode and turns them back on. She tells Chat she has just gone through her mail and there is a lot of it. She got two horn-of-the-month club deliveries at once, and she needs to meet with Joel about armor stand work. She has a sand and gravel coupon and a Mission Possible mission, so much to do!

1:40 Cleo goes into the house, warning Chat as she goes that she has “lored” in here. There are eight books she has written just for this room, all for the lore. She goes back outside and spots Cakebot on the roof, then laughs about how she always sees the bot and, thanks to the long distance and long nametag, thinks it’s Scar sneaking up on her.

2:40 Time to get started! Cleo shows off the Tower, which needs to be dug out into a tower base. They say they are actually working today which doesn’t happen often, especially this past week or two. Cleo has been too sick to reasonably work and so has been taking a sensible rest. A chatter asks if Cleo is going to die today. Cleo says they are feeling better, somewhat, and not going to die. The cats are fighting in the background.

4:20 A chatter asks why their message was deleted. Cleo tells them to read the rules. She greets Cam the mod.

5:30 A chatter engages Cleowo mode. Cleowo interacts with the chat and thanks subs. Today is the first day Cleo has been feeling well enough to go outside in awhile. She quotes The Little Mermaid as a prose poem. The Little Mermaid was the first movie Cleo got to watch in the cinema, and that’s how old she is. A chatter plays a spicy jelly bean. Cleo says they also moved into the new office, which is mostly clean and painted and pretty.

7:45 Cleo leaves to get tissues and wishes everyone a happy Pride. She needs birch wood for the build and goes to find it in the basement. Cleowo mode ends. She thanks subs and donos as she navigates through her base.

9:20 Back at the tower build, Cleo needs to figure out something to do with the roof. They contemplate maybe blocking it off entirely. Chat is trying to remember their first Disney movies. Cleo assures them that this is not a quiz and they don’t need to remember or share that information. ((For the record: the animated The Little Mermaid released in the UK in October 1990. This probably makes Cleo slightly younger than the livestreamer, whose first Disney theater experience was Who Framed Roger Rabbit.))

10:30 A chatter asks if this will be on the test next week. Cleo adopts an extremely ominous voice to reply that nothing will be on the test next week because “NEXT WEEK DOESN’T EXIST!… because it’s an abstract concept.” A chatter plays a cheerful musical sting that makes the whole thing sound like the last punchline in a sitcom.

10:40 A chatter says they will not disclose their first movie because they are too old. Cleo says they are not going to force anyone to disclose anything in chat, movie telling is not mandatory. Everyone is cool here, no narcs allowed in the chat. The mod reminds Chat not to get specific about ages. Cleo agrees and promises that one of these days she will remember to support the mods on that issue, but possibly not soon. Cleo lines up a zinger on herself, delivers it, says that was mean and blames chat for it.

12:00 Back to design talk. Chat continues talking about movies and theatrical productions. Cleo removes most of the mangrove from inside the tower in order to replace it with sandstone. She agrees that the Lion King musical is great and reminds Chat that she is very tired. Being sarcastic all the time can be a problem for her because people don’t always understand it and can become offended very quickly. Chat likes that Cleo is sarcastic. Cleo points out that the people who do get offended tend to leave and then badmouth her on the internet. Her first inclination is to ask them to come back, but then she realizes they would not do well in her chat anyway and so she doesn’t care very much.

15:00 Cleo tells a story of someone who didn’t understand their sarcasm, who got very offended when they said Cleo was wonderful and she replied “I know.” Chat is definitely on Cleo’s side for this one. A chatter says content creators don’t owe the attention of sub thanks to their audience, but Cleo believes that it is important to thank donos and subs, though sometimes she does miss things. She says she is known for being a screwup, even as she misjudges the blocks she is placing for her new wall. She sighs.

17:00 A chatter asks if Cleo is doing anything for Pride. They answer that they do not like in-person events because they are not good with large groups of people, but does participate in Pride things online. Being a member of the community, they feel, gives them a pass on having to do too much stuff. Cleo did enjoy MCC Pride. The tower area is clean now, but needs shaping and a couple of floors.

19:00 Cleo organizes her inventory for building. She has a lot of stuff she doesn’t want or need. She finds sixteen anvils and wonders sarcastically where those could have come from. She needs spruce but doesn’t think she has any. A chatter asks why she doesn’t use background music. Cleo explains that she has an Epidemic Music license for her main channel but not one for the VODs channel where this will be uploaded, and YouTube Music has neither sufficient music nor a good player. Other solutions for royalty-free music has gotten streams muted in the past because of YouTube’s overenthusiastic AI. They tell chat that if Chat has any good suggestions, they are listening. A chatter suggests using the Hotdogs on Your Face song exclusively, but Cleo jokingly claims not to have enough cards for that. Cleo has forgotten what they are doing.

23:50 Cleo thanks the subs. She remembers that she was putting in floors. A chatter plays the Hotdogs On Your Face song. Cleo is now hyperaware of the lack of background music. She says that she is not going to upload this VOD, so she will see about doing some Epidemic music. She asks chat for what genre they want. Suggestions include “Silence,” “Lofi,” “Elevator Muzak,” and “Jazzercise.” She chooses “beach destination chill.” A chatter plays “Hug a Creeper.” Cleo says they’ll get there. A chatter asks Cleo to give some building techniques. Cleo suggests making a build more interesting by starting with a basic structure and then adding purpose-based additions. That is the easiest advice they can give, they are all tapped out for building advice. The chatter admits they were hoping to get some building skill through osmosis. Cleo sadly informs them that she has tried the same thing many times by sitting next to other hermits, but it does not work.

26:30 Cleo goes back to assembling supplies. Pixlriffs raids into the stream. Cleo welcomes the raiders and tells them that in this stream they are being obnoxious and facetious and other ous words. A chatter comments “So a normal Cleo stream?” and they respond “No, this one’s got music in.” They try to build a staircase in the tower and decide a ladder is a much better choice for the space involved. Pix’s chat tell Cleo that Pix was playing Elden Ring, a game Cleo knows nothing about. She hopes they had a fun time.

28:00 Etho is mentioned in chat (due to the “Ladders” nickname and his love of ladders). Cleo tells the chat she didn’t know about the ladders thing for a long time after meeting Etho. She didn’t know Etho before Hermitcraft and thus is much less in awe of him than folks who literally grew up watching his videos. She is aggressively _not_ an Etho fangirl. A chatter says they heard he was washed up. Cleo laughs and jokes that he washes up for supper sometimes. Chat is very enthusiastic about Etho, trying to counter Cleo’s amused dismissiveness with a list of Etho accomplishments. This is difficult because Cleo is not an Etho viewer and does not do redstone and is thus unimpressed by the Etho Hopper Clock.

30:00 Cleo decides to create a secret room to avoid having to deal with the unusually-shaped space at the edge of her base, while simultaneously trying to convince Chat that Etho is Just Some Dude. Chat is having none of it. Chat is also very in favor of Etho and Cleo as a Life Series comedic duo. A chatter mentions that Impulse also has a common redstone device named after him, the sorting system. Cleo declares this fact “cool” and reiterates that the things they know about the Hermits could fill a very small book, or maybe a pamphlet.

32:00 Cleo thanks the donos and subs, and makes a few more Etho jokes. They work on coming up with a design for the entrance to the secret room. Chat is still in Etho-mode and suggests maybe Cleo is secretly obssessed with Etho. Cleo points out that they didn’t even bring Etho up, only responded to Chat bringing him up in the first place. She assures Chat her days of not taking Chat seriously are coming to a middle. She blames Chat fully for this.

35:00 Cleo mentions new TCG cards are coming. Two of Cleo’s cards are already done and they are very good! A chatter activates Hydration time and everyone has a drink. Another chatter asks why Etho fans are here and not on Etho’s stream. Cleo laughs and asks why Etho fans are so obsessed with her. A chatter activates Posture Check Time. Cleo’s TCG cards are always good because they choose amazing artists, but they will not say too much so as not to give anything away.

37:30 A chatter asks how Cleo is feeling after Doc’s pigicide. Cleo answers “Litigious.” The tower elevator is coming together and needs signage. A chatter asks what her favorite minigame is, besides Decked Out. Cleo points out that they do not play very many minigames so don’t really have a favorite. They put signs in the elevator shaft to hold back the water.

40:00 A chatter asks what kinds of builds and genres Cleo would like to try in the future. Cleo says she mostly just builds what she is feeling at the time and doesn’t care too much about overarching themes or what other people think about it. She begins filling the elevator with water source blocks. A chatter says the build reminds them of the Owl House. Cleo does not know what the Owl House is.

42:00 Xisuma joins the server, says hello via in-game chat, and asks what Cleo is up to. Cleo tells Xisuma she is finishing her builds before Thursday, then explains to Chat that Things are happening on Thursday. Xisuma asks Cleo if Thursday is a secret. Cleo is not sure but says the details are probably a secret. Chat suspects that it is either a court case or base tours. Xisuma asks if Cleo needs anything, but they reply they are nearly ready and just have to finish building.

44:20 A chatter say that it is not difficult to guess what is happening, Cleo invites them to actually guess, if it is so easy. She says no special guests and no court case is happening, just Hermits doing Hermit stuff. A chatter says Joe mentioned base tours after the Hermitcraft meeting. Another chatter guesses update day, but Cleo explains that only Xisuma cares about update day. Xisuma messages again to offer wood and Cleo asks for spruce for the floors.

46:30 Cleo finishes the elevator and jumps down for more supplies. A chatter plays the Feral Ghoul sound from Fallout and startles her. Cub logs onto the server and exchanges greetings.

47:30 Cleo says there are a lot of things that need to be figured out right now, like whether a particle effect from ender chests goes through slabs. They currently have a floor that seems to consist of dark gray wool, carpets, and ender chests. Cleo takes up some of the wool and carpet and begins placing slabs over the chests. The answer appears to be “kind of.” A few particles are making their way through the wood slabs. A chatter who is the maker of the Armor Poser mod proudly announces that the mod is ready for 1.21 and hopes Cleo is excited. Cleo congratulates them and endorses the mod to Chat but says she has no input on when the Hermitcraft server will actually update. Chat notices that Cleo has not confirmed or denied base tours as a possibility. Cleo says they can see why chat might think that and continues not to confirm or deny. Xisuma drops off some spruce and flies away like the Lumber Fairy. Cleo declares that X is the best and has forgotten again what she is doing. A chatter plays Sour Jellybean.

50:40 Cleo remembers it is time to Hug a Creeper. They set spawn and fly into the air, falling from a high place. They collect up their bits while gloating about being able to legally claim sour jellybeans as a business expense. Pearl signs on to the server

51:50 Cleo responds to a chat suggestion that trapdoors might let in more particles than slabs do. They make a bunch of spruce trapdoors from some of Xisuma’s logs and place some of them down, but it’s hard to see the particles in the current testing area. Cleo begins picking up the floor to move elsewhere and mentions receiving a troubling message from Pearl in the mail. She flies down to her mailbox and shows the large quantity of mail parcels she talked about at the beginning of the stream, including one that contains a single block of purpur and requests that Hermits buy more purpur from Pearl. Cleo confesses that she doesn’t like purpur at all but feels like she should maybe buy some from Pearl anyway as she clearly seems to be suffering. Chat somerwhat incoherently tries to inform Cleo that the parcel is from Joel, who lost a bet with Pearl and was forced to advertise the Purr-Purr shop and raise sales for Pearl. Cleo eventually parses what Chat is trying to say and is no longer concerned about Pearl’s message.

55:00 Cleo goes back to picking up the trial floor from the wizard tower. Pearl writes in the in-game chat that Chat has been losing her sales since 2024. Cleo tells her that purpur is gross, but because it is Pearl selling it, they will buy some. Cleo likes the look of spruce trapdoors over ender chests and decides to buy purpur in celebration. Chat asks what time it is for Pearl. Cleo believes it’s around 6am, Pearl-time. Pearl says she has a minigame to build. Cleo tries to convince her she does not have to build minigames at 6am.

57:10 Cleo arrives at the purr-purr bus and admires the new dumpster, saying it’s a good addition. She doesn’t really understand how Iskall can hate diorite so much when purpur exists and is a much better target. They shake their head over the prices in the shop but buy a bunch of chorus fruit to make end rods, plus some end stone. According to Cleo, buying purpur-adjacent things definitely counts as supporting the shop. Pearl is grateful. Cleo says that Pearl is undercharging and pays extra for all the chorus fruit. As Cleo flies away she notes that between herself and Cub, they have most of the server’s money right now.

59:30 A chatter asks what the bottom half of the vTuber looks like. Cleo adjusts their stream position to make the entire vTuber figure visible. Chat is impressed that Cleo has legs. FalseSymmetry, in stream chat, comments “omg legs (in caps)” to circumvent the stream rule against all-caps. Cleo shows off the limited set of movements available to the full-body figure, then puts the figure back in the usual place.

1:01:00 A chatter mentions that the vtuber figure can walk and can be used to replace the default character in certain games such as Valheim. Cleo confirms that it can be used for some games, like Valorant, and she could stomp around in there as Cleo if she wanted to. She cannot use the model on VR games because it is above the poly count. It’s primarily intended for vtubing. Using it for VR would be pretty rough on game performance.

1:02:15 Someone plays the Poe Poe Siren (Skizz singing the Poe Poe song) outside Cleo’s base. It is definitely Scar, who just signed onto the server. Cleo fetches their own horns and plays Skizz’s “Dang it, Scar!” horn, then yells for Scar to come back with a warrant. They go back inside just in time for Scar to play Xisuma’s “This is Illegal!” horn.

1:03:00 Cleo realizes that this is a war. She plays Etho’s “There was some kidnapping involved” horn.

Scar retaliates with his own “Trader Scar’s not going to eat you” horn.

Cleo plays Grian’s “I’m eating a curly-whirly right now” horn.

Scar plays Impulse’s “Say it and we’ll bleep it out” horn.

Cleo plays her own “Oh no-woh, not Joe-wo” horn.

Scar plays Ren’s “I’d like to see your butt, please” horn.

1:04:10 Cleo yells to Scar that she has run out of horns and demands to know where he is. Scar flies overhead and repeats the Ren horn, followed immediately by the Michael Scott “I declare Bankruptcy” horn. Cleo giggles and declares she needs to buy more horns, then remembers she has an ace in the hole. She heads for her mailbox, finds and plays the “I see you” horn from the Horn of the Month Club.

1:05:15 False logs into the server just long enough to play her own “OMG hiiiiii” horn, then logs out. Cleo play’s Gem’s “That’s Amazing!” horn. Th3Pooka raids into the stream.

1:05:45 Cleo thanks the raiders and welcomes subs. They have once again forgotten what they are doing. Chat reminds them that they are working on flooring.

1:07:00 Someone plays a horn from The Office outside. Cleo plays the “I see you” horn, explaining that even if she doesn’t see him, she has to play the horn. She returns to working on her floors. A chatter asks what program the vTuber model was made in. Cleo does not know but points the chatter to the link for the designer, MotherLyra. Zedaph suffocates in a wall.

1:08:20 Someone plays the MGM Lion horn, startling Cleo. They follow it up with a horn (maybe Etho or xB?) saying “I chop, I dig, your mom is really big.” Cleo plays the “Dang it, Scar” horn again. Someone plays Scar’s “Take a look at how big my booty is” horn. Cleo plays Tango’s “I see you” horn again and yells to Scar that she only has limited horns . Scar, who is stream-sniping, disclaims responsibility in in-game chat, even as someone plays Iskall’s “What are you doing?” horn. Cleo guesses it must be Cub. Cleo decides it’s either Scar or Cub, or both, or Pearl, or Tango, or Xisuma. Scar asks Cub in chat where the alien horn is.

1:09:50 Cleo attempts to go back to work, while admitting that they are not trying very hard to work. A chatter asks why Cleo has so many ender chests. Cleo says it is for the particle effects, then jokes it is because they have an addiction but most people don’t comment on it. In game chat, Cub tells Scar that the alien horn should be at the shop unless someone already bought it. Cleo wants to know more about the alien horn. Outside the window, Pearl plays Scar’s booty horn again and flies away. Cleo plays the “I see you” horn again. Zedaph suffocates in a wall again.

1:11:10 Cleo bemoans her own lack of horns, while Scar suggests that the alien horn has probably been sold. A chatter plays a scary noise, but Cleo is currently immune thanks to all the horn shenanigans. They go back to work, declaring loudly that they are feeling bullied, and it is because the hermits are bullying them. It’s not just one of those feelings, it is definitely bullying. Pearl assures Cleo in chat that it is only love. Cleo replies that one can bully with love, and invites Chat to “Ask me how I know.”

1:12:10 Cleo asks Cub if he’s done the Xisuma legs horn yet. Cub says not yet, but maybe for next batch. Cleo is pleased about that possibility. They want to hear the legs horn, because it is weird. False rejoins the server. Xisuma, who has been silent for a long while, asks what about his legs in game chat.

Cleo tells him they’re very pretty. Cub explains that Xisuma made a remark that tickled Cleo. X says thanks and that he never skips leg day. Cleo chuckles and mutters “nerd”

1:13:30 Cleo confesses proudly in game chat that they always skip leg day. Scar thinks someone got the alien horn from the shop and appears uncertain about what to do. A chatter plays Xisuma’s “Legs Legs Legs LEGS!” sound, which Cleo had forgotten was an available bits-reward sound on their channel. Scar plays the “Darth Vader Breathing” horn but Cleo is distracted. A chatter asks where the Legs soundbyte is from, and Cleo tells them it’s from MCC Pride where they were on a team together. Scar plays the Michael Scott “Inside Joke” horn. Cleo greets Scar and/or Pearl, possibly both or neither, whoever is out to get her, specifically.

1:15:15 Cleo talks about MCC Pride and hopes no one was expecting them to win. Scott has not officially told Cleo that they are being added to teams as a nerf, but that it’s just generally known. Cleo’s role in MCC is “ballast.” Scar asks Pearl if she bought the Alien horn, Pearl does not know what he is talking about. Someone plays the “Hello there!” horn. Cleo runs outside yelling “Oh my god, hiiii!” but no one is there. Cleo is disappointed, and asks that whoever is blowing horns at least say who they are. Chat believes it’s definitely Scar. Cleo plays the “Dang it Scar!” horn again.

1:16:45 Zedaph falls out of the world. Xisuma describes this as Zed doing Zed things. Cleo agrees and says that’s pretty much his job. A chatter asks Cleo what is their favorite “Cleo thing” to do. They say sleeping, mostly. A chatter asks if Cleo has any information on books or info about lgbtq+ issues. Cleo says not really, they don’t read up on it much, just experience it from their own perspective. They refer the chatter back to the chat for recommendations.

1:19:00 A chatter asks why the floor only has a certain number of ender chests under it. Cleo explains that it’s going to be a summoning circle, and the ender chests are in a circle under the floor to provide particles in that exact spot. A chatter asks about using a spore blossom for more effect, but Cleo explains the range is too wide. A chatter plays sour jellybean. Another chatter plays a door noise. Cleo turns the music back on. A chatter notes that Cleo now has a convenient crawlspace under the floor. Cleo agrees, but says they did not plan it that way, because planning is for losers. She parenthetically adds that she is a loser. Zedaph blames Tango for his untimely death in in-game chat. Cleo agrees that most things are Tango’s fault.

1:21:30 A chatter asks how people are playing noises and jellybeans, Cleo explains the Streamloots program. Another chatter admits that they have read a great deal of fiction and anecdotes about the lgbtq+ experience, but not much nonfiction and nothing to really recommend. Cleo agrees that this seems pretty common, and talks about how if mainstream sources won’t provide gayness, the community will make it for themselves. A chatter plays Favorite Things, and Cleo says mostly intangible things, like the way you feel in the morning when the sun is rising and you know people you hate are suffering. She says she doesn’t understand why people think she’s so sinister all the time. She also likes petrichor.

1:23:45 Cleo begins texturing the new floor with slightly lower trapdoors in places. They talk with Chat about queerness in history and how it is difficult to know exactly what it was like in the past because so many things were different. They reorganize their inventory again and go into the mines to find a box of crystals for decoration. Cleo is too tired for in-depth discussion on these serious topics and just needs to get some crystals. A chatter puts the chat into emote-only mode, Cleo refers to that as the “Cleo says stop” button.

1:28:00 Cleo finds the geode and begins harvesting crystals. They love amethyst noises, and wants to put amethyst under carpet someplace in the build. There are not as many crystals as Cleo was hoping for, and they take some time to free up more faces on the crystal-producing blocks. “Crystals are going to become important!” she teases. She agrees with chat that amethyst needs more block variations, since it is a far nicer color than purpur. The crystal noises are very soothing.

1:31:20 Cleo says that the most annoying thing you can call a geologist is a “crystal girlie.” Chat does not understand the term. A chatter says their geologist friend doesn’t like being called a rock-licker. Cleo says rock-licker is fine and if they don’t want to be called a rock-licker they should stop licking rocks. Cleo explains that a crystal girlie is someone who believes in crystals for healing and energy alignment, rather than studying them scientifically. Chat has a discussion about eating rocks. Cleo advises that many rocks are inert and can be licked, but that one should not lick rocks instead of taking medicine. Some rocks should not be licked at all. Cleo specially advises Chat not to eat uranium and suggests (then immediately unsuggests) that they look up radium girls. ((A sad story from history of some workers who became the reason for later regulations.))

1:36:00 Cleo transforms her crystals into “charged crystals” by renaming them on an anvil, then puts them in a similarly-transformed “Lead-lined Storage Crate.” The box goes into the new tower room for decoration. A chatter plays Teeny-tiny Zombie Cleo, Cleo sings the song. Cleo looks for one of the lore books in the library room that has information about crystals. They do not find it, but find a note about crystals in a cupboard. Pearl asks in chat for verdant froglights. Joe has been buying all Etho’s stock, but Cleo has some in storage. She invites Pearl over to get some. A chatter plays spicy jellybean.

1:41:10 Pearl arrives and yells hello. Cleo provides her with several stacks of verdant froglights, even though Pearl only truly needed four. Pearl is happy for the extra froglights because she likes the green tinged light. Cleo says green-tinge is the best tinge. Pearl says that pearlescent froglights are also pretty great. Cleo says they’re not her favorite. Pearl says she’ll let that slide because Cleo has been so generous and flies away. Cleo blesses Pearl’s little cotton socks and calls her adorable.

1:42:30 A chatter says that Pearl was their first introduction to Hermitcraft. Cleo says that is valid but also unusual, Pearl is not one of the more common vectors into Hermitcraft. A chatter plays Giant. The first chatter explains that they started watching in S8 with Pearl and Gem and their friends. Cleo is happy about how the community has grown. They also can’t wait for the new paintings. Cleo creates a painting to cover the secret door, but does not particularly like the only design that covers the space.

1:45:00 Cleo declares it’s time to clean up the roof, because it looks like arse. Pretty arse, but arse. They are not worried about structural integrity because magic, but some crossbeams would look nice. Cleo says that sometimes it is hard to explain their thought process while building because sometimes there is no thought, just building. They begin adding crossbeams to the interior roof and talking about building process or the lack thereof.

1:49:40 A chatter asks if Cleo has a favorite fan song. Cleo says no, they have not heard many and generally try to keep their research in a bubble. A chatter plays sour jellybean. Cleo says she will watch most Hermit stuff, but the fan stuff can be biting. She wants to keep just a little sliver of joy in her life. She goes on to clarify that “I’ve got two diamonds” and other songs written just for her are exceptions, but fan stuff can be mean in general and she avoids it. A chatter mentions that Doc talks about fanfiction on stream all the time. Cleo says Doc is insane. They don’t need to worry about what Doc is doing, because it is always THE WRONG THING. Chat is not happy about the idea of anyone being mean to Cleo. Cleo clarifies that in fan spaces, fans tend to assume she will not be there, and they tend to speak their minds bluntly. When they’re talking about the character, it’s just opinion, but when they talk about her as a person, it’s hard to deal with. Cleo does not fault the fans, it is a difference of perception between Cleo as the person and Cleo as the character. What they are doing is not harmful in itself, but Cleo seeing it is harmful because it makes her feel bad and she has learned to avoid it. At the same time, 99.9% of the fandom is lovely.

1:55:20 A chatter says their partner is trying to watch every hermit, but doing so during Decked out in S9 got pretty tiring. Cleo does not recommend trying to watch every Hermit because that is too much and too difficult. They realize that many people like other hermits more than they like them, and they’re okay with that. They will never be everyone’s favorite and that is fine. Pearl, in in-game chat, agrees that Hermitcraft is fantastic because of its wide variety of creator styles. Cleo has a hard time finding her saplings and wonders if they might be in the orphan-crushing machine. Chat is confused about the orphan-crushing machine, which appears to be a bonemeal farm. A chatter plays Hydration Time.

1:58:00 Cleo reiterates that they avoid fan spaces and explains that fans sometimes just say rude things on the internet. She can know that a take is bad (“Cleo doesn’t deserve to be on Hermitcraft’) but that doesn’t mean it won’t sting. Pearl chimes in with a story about a Tiktok she saw where all the comments were kind except the ones about her. Cleo is instantly sympathetic and assures Pearl she is wonderful while threatening the lives of the haters. Tango alerts the server to potential lag incoming. Cleo says she doesn’t mind living and letting live with people who are mean to her, but nobody can say bad things about Pearl. Pearl says that most of the community is wonderful and she’s just getting used to living with the bad part. Cleo asks for advice about how to do that, because she has been on Hermitcraft for nine seasons and it is still hard. Cleo talks about the fine line between not feeding the trolls and not clapping back when it would be better to do so. A chatter plays Favorite Things. Cleo says it’s the mail system, because they had nine messages today and it was cool.

2:03:00 Pearl messages that when she starts feeling bad about fan negativity, she reminds herself that she shouldn’t care about the opinion of anybody she wouldn’t be willing to take advice from. It is silly to let the words of the haters have any impact. Cleo agrees that this is valid. They would not listen to those people’s advice, and would also probably say something very nasty to them. A chatter plays gross jellybean, much to Cleo’s chagrin. A chatter plays Giant Zombie. The jellybean is bubblegum, but Cleo would’ve actually preferred the mouthwash alternative. Bubble gum is a bad flavor.

2:05:50 Cleo wonders sometimes if she goes a bit too far, and mentions she might have been a bit too enthusiastic in verbal sparring with Doc. They reiterate the information about their TCG cards and the new expansion. The crossbeams are almost finished, and Cleo adds some above the windows. A chatter says they would not want to make Cleo mad, and Cleo confesses their bark is much worse than their bite. She also does fake anger a lot, because it is funny. When Doc killed the pig, she did get a bit too into the bit, but it was okay in the end. Doc shouldn’t have killed the pig! It’s okay, Cleo says, because he’ll suffer. A chatter asks what an HHH stream is. Cleo explains it is Hermits Helping Hermits and they haven’t done one for awhile because they and Joe are both busy. Cleo thinks she may have frightened Doc just a little bit and laughs about it.

2:10:10 A chatter plays Cleowo. Cleo says she doesn’t think Doc’s scared of her, more that he felt sort of guilty when the pig thing turned out bigger than he intended it to be. A chatter suggests that Doc didn’t realize Cleo was serious when they said they were attached to the pig. Cleo agrees that’s exactly what happened. Cleo has finished one building and has another one started, but they need to decide what is going to go inside on each floor. She takes a tour through the building. A chat plays emote only mode.

2:13:20 Cleo says it’s about time to call it a stream. They switch to big Vtuber mode and thank the chat for subs and donos. They insist that nobody sends them anymore firstborn children because they already have too many of them. Cleo raids into a non-hermit friend and ends the stream.

[robindrake93]

11 days since I sent you that ask and I can now say, I get it. I get what you meant about episode 8. WE DID NOT JUST GET LUKERCY CRUMBS HOLY SHIT-

ALL OF THEIR SCENES TOGETHER WERE MAKING ME FERAL FJGKD WHICH WAS SO HARD TO KEEP IN WHILE WATCHING IT WITH MY SIS 😭😭 IT WAS SO GOOD

the training!! the entire fucking fight with luke practically begging percy to believe that he is his friend and wants him to join him!! the lighting!! just everything!!! you can soo tell luke wanted to shove percy in that portal and take him along no matter what!! (ignoring annabeths appearance cause im still on the fence with that change even if I get why they did it)

i am so going to binge read lukercy fics the entire night just to fill my rabid need for content of them after seeing that AHFJVKDKD I CANT-

You're right we didn't just get crumbs, we got a whole damn pie.

Luke not only welcoming Percy to camp but being the one to show him around, constantly by his side. Even watching him sleep from across the cabin.

The look on Percy's face when Luke tells him he's always on Annabeth's side.

Luke breaking the camp rules that two demigods (with different parents) aren't allowed to be alone in the cabins together to give Percy the shoes in his cabin (as opposed to on the hill like in the book).

Percy wanting to take Luke on the quest but being afraid that Luke would prioritize Annabeth over him.

The jealousy and disgust in Luke's voice during the Iris message when he makes the comment about "when did you two become an old married couple" and the look of equal disgust and discomfort from Percy when he says "gross let's move on from that." (paraphrasing but you get the idea)

Luke influencing Percy so much that the very first words of Percy's book ("Look, I didn't want to be a halfblood") are actually a quote from Luke.

The whole training scene.

Sword under the chin is always hot. Percy's making a face like he knows it too.

When Luke goes to sit on that rock beside Percy, he chooses a spot that lets them sit eye-to-eye but also he rocks toward Percy for a second like he's going to go in for a kiss.

Percy mirroring the head tilt that Luke (Charlie?) does.

Luke's voice full of pride when Percy does good.

Luke telling Percy he's small and scary. So fucking cute.

The way we can see via body language what book!Percy has been telling us all along: that every time Percy picks up his sword, he hears Luke's voice in his head telling him what to do.

Percy and Luke almost never take their eyes off each other for the whole secret meeting about Clarisse.

They're meeting in the woods at night. Luke didn't even have to bribe Percy this time, he just trotted after him.

Luke coaxing Percy into talking. (in the books Percy doesn't do a lot of talking out loud and Luke actually does break the ice several times because Percy is just standing there staring like a little weirdo [affectionate].).

Fireworks from beginning to end. Love the red and blue ones especially for that bisexual lighting. It was easily the best lighting in the whole show.

"Easy. I just want to show you." Everyone says that the maia scene was the hottest thing Charlie said as Luke but they're sleeping on this. Those are 'gonna take your virginity' words and his tone of voice? Mmm. Yum.

AND it's about his sword? HIS SWORD?! The most phallic weapon of all? Gods help me.

Just an interesting detail but Luke doesn't actually ever point his sword at Percy until Percy attacks him. It really shows that his plan is to convince Percy to leave with him.

"The gods are my enemy. You....." - Luke searching for what Percy is to him. lol I guess it's supposed to be a dramatic pause for dramatic effect but it really just makes it sound like Luke is debating how exactly to define their relationship.

Both of them have watery tear-filled eyes? Excuse me? Cry babies? Yes please. I told all of you so.

Also Luke is comfortable with turning his back on Percy to draw the runes (?) even though Percy drew his sword and is sweating like a sinner in church.

Luke actually proposing that they run away. Together. Just the two of them.

"We"

Percy is literally swaying on his feet. You can see that he's nervous but he also doesn't take so much as a single step backward. He still wants to be close to Luke!

Luke's determination to bring Percy with him. During their fight he does his best to keep Percy between himself and the portal. He even tosses Percy towards it a couple of times. Luke wants Percy to run away with him voluntarily but you can see as the fight goes on longer, he decides kidnapping is an option.

Luke is not leaving without his boy.

The skill difference between Percy and Luke. We see this during training too, where Luke is tossing Percy around and basically playing with him (I mean it's serious training but Luke's skill level is so above that it looks like playing). Luke is not seriously fighting Percy. He's trying to herd Percy into that portal.

Luke praising Percy in the middle of their fight.

Percy cutting Luke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -" Because Percy really doesn't want to hurt Luke and he's never like actually hurt someone he cares about.

Luke cutting Percy.

Looming.

The way after Annabeth shows up, Luke's eyes flit down to Percy three separate times. You can visibly see him weighing his options. I think he was debating if he could sling Percy over his shoulder and run into the portal faster than Annabeth could catch them.

"I know Luke wasn't trying to kill me." - WOW what a change from the book. I can't believe they had Percy understand that because in the pit scorpion scene, he did not get it. I'm happy about the change but surprised they made it. (makes me wonder if Percy's the one who's loyalty we're supposed to question instead of Annabeth's as the next seasons come up).

Sorry that was long but like. Wow. We won hardcore.

As for reading more lukercy fic, you'll be pleased to know that it's the lukercy valentine's event this week (02/12-02-15) so there should be ✨ new fics. ✨

[patxhwrk]

Guys look i said id write stardew valley for sebastian but i have too much shane thoughts

he may be mentally ill but i am too

Also didnt have an jncorrect quote last night so have this instead

-ˋˏ✄— Uncoincidental

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Shane x Reader

Pronouns: they/them

"Look in the mirror say, "What's up you useless fuck?""

.navigation. // .stardew valley masterlist.

CW!!

—past alcohol addiction

Shane felt so useless, staring at his reflection in his dark bedroom. The television screen was dark and so was his reflection. His eyebags were heavier, but at lease his stubble was shaved, right?

This was pathetic, he thought.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic—

He shook off his thoughts and instinctively reached for something on his desk. His hand made contact with the cold wood and he sighed. Bringing back his hand to his face, he dragged it down as if it would wake him.

Right, he thought and scoffed. No more drinking, dumbass.

He sat on his mattress with his thoughts. Laying down on the soft plush did not help them ease. He raised both hands to his head and covered his eyes as he groaned.

Sunday mornings were so lame. It had barely been ten am but his room was still so dark. At least this was better than Joja, maybe.

Shane was left alone with his thoughts racing and running and loud and loud and if he could only drink one beer—

A knock echoed from outside his room. A knock?

He groggily and hesitantly stood up, fighting the urge to stop by the kitchen for the single beer can that was left in the fridge. Maybe he should just grab it, not let it go to waste. It was just one, and it was so close. It wouldn't be too bad if—

He opened the front door of the ranch empty handed.

"Hullo," the farmer up the hill greeted him with a bright smile. And Shane smiled back. Because he would smile for the farmer any day that he found them standing in front of him. He'll smile for them whenever they showed up to lighten his mood.

"Y/n." He smiled and his shoulders slacked. His thoughts were moved on, the beer in the fridge a past afterthought. And then he realized. "What are you doing here so early?"

They stared at him confused. "Shane. It's five in the afternoon."

Shane glanced at the outside behind them where the sun slowly set and the sky started dimming. Maybe his room was dark because it was five. "Oh."

They shook their head and heartily laughed. "Anyways, I saw the sign you posted yesterday about needing a shad for something, so I decided to get you one since I was fishing anyways. I—uh—got distracted and forgot to give it to you yesterday and—"

Shane cut them off. "Hold on, did you go fishing out in the rain without a cover? Again?"

Mouth stretching across their face in a line, they looked away. "...Maybe."

Shane couldn't stop the soft smile growing in his face, but he sighed to cover it. He knew Y/n wouldn't be able to miss it, though. "Dumbass. Get in here."

They entered the warm ranch and sighed in relief, taking a seat in the kitchen and placing the basket—one which Shane only noticed now—on the table. There was a piece of cloth covering something inside, the fish atop it. "Thanks, it's so fucking cold outside."

"It's fall, Y/n."

"I know that!"

"And you're not wearing a coat."

"...I know that."

He sighed and shook his head. How could someone be so stupid and so—

He paused his thoughts to look for the right word, glancing towards the farmer smiling down at their basket of goods.

—cute.

He blushed red and moved towards the kitchen counter to hide it from them. "Want anything? Tea, coffee?"

"Oh, no need really! I just wanted to stop by and give these to you."

They passed him the basket and he gently moved the fish somewhere else. Lifting the cloth to peek underneath, his eyes widened at the sight. The basket was filled with hot peppers, plenty good quality he assumed.

"A lot grew last summer, so I decided to save some for you," they stated with a scratch to their warming cheek. "And I thought, since it's fall, why not restock your supply?"

Shane could marry them then and there, if he was more confident in himself.

"You are a fucking deity." He grinned bright and joyous and genuine. He then shook his head. "And no, you're not going out without at least warming up. Tea or coffee? Or maybe hot cocoa?"

Y/n sighed, smiling softly at Shane's back before choosing their drink. "Thank you, Shane."

He paused. The look over his shoulder towards them and a soft smile was enough to tell Y/n that he wasn't just talking about the shad on the counter, or the peppers in the basket, or for stopping by just as his thoughts were so near to bringing him a can of beer to his hand. "I should be thanking you, y'know?"

Y/n smiled. "I know."

—PATCHWRK !

[necrotic-nephilim]

TimCass - "What is this 'mercy' you speak of?"

(not cassie)

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a short fic!

TimCass my beloved. this is 1.5k of just. mostly emotional whump with brainwashing involved. very inspired by that time in canon where Cass was working with Slade, but. done my way bc that arc was a shitshow. enjoy <3

Two months, three weeks, and five days.

That was how long they’d been looking for Cass since she vanished with no trace.

And now that Tim had found her, he was almost starting to regret it.

Any fight with Cass was a losing one, but Tim swore she was even more brutal than before. It wasn't like fighting a human. She was a living weapon, throwing knives at Tim and dodging every blow he tried to land on her.

He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to just stay alive.

“Cass-” Tim tried to say, dodging a slash from one of her katanas. She was duel wielding with perfect precision. Moves Tim didn't know normal humans were capable of. “Cass, it's me!” His bo staff stopped another attack. “You know me, it's Tim!”

If she recognized him, she didn't let on. The blankness of her stare made Tim guess she didn't. It twisted knots in his stomach, trying to figure out where the hell she had been.

Who had gotten to her.

Cass didn't say a word. Nothing Tim said could get so much of a reaction out of her. It was as if she didn't hear him at all.

He should've brought backup. Tim didn't think this lead would pan out, after so many false starts. And now, he paid for it. Backed in a corner, deep in the woods that surrounded Gotham where his tracker had no signal.

Tim was pretty sure this was a trap he’d walked right into.

Cass swung with a katana again, but this time, it was just a distraction. She kicked out Tim’s feet. The moment Tim’s back hit the ground and the wind got knocked out of him, a katana plunged into his shoulder. It went straight through to nail him to the ground, like a pinned butterfly.

Tim wasn't ashamed of his scream. The pain was indescribable. Blindly distracting. He had to force himself to not panic. Cass already had a knife in her hand.

“You’re not a killer, Cass,” Tim begged, trying anything to get through to her. “I want to help you. Please don't do this.” He tried to reach up to her. Cass threw her knife and Tim’s hand got pinned to the ground too, the blade slicing through his skin and muscles like paper.

This time, he managed to not scream.

Cass stared down at him with nothing in her eyes. She lifted her other katana.

“Mercy!” Tim was desperate. “Cass, mercy, please. Just let me talk, I swear.”

She paused.

Her face remained blank, but she paused. Tim held his breath, waiting for the katana to come down on his neck.

Cass opened her mouth. “What…” She was talking. Tim prayed that was a good sign. Just the sound of her voice made him want to cry. “What is… this… mercy you speak of?” She struggled on every word. Finally, her faced changed. Eyebrows knit together and mouth formed into the smallest of frowns.

It didn't sound like a mocking question. Her confusion was so genuine Tim wished he could reach up and touch her. Hold her face and tell her it was going to be okay. Cass’ eyes searched Tim’s face for an answer.

“You,” Tim said, blinking back tears. “You’re what mercy is. You don't kill, Cass. You believe everyone deserves to live. That's mercy.”

Cass shook her head. She looked angry for a second, then confused again. Every emotion seemed to be fighting against her for control.

“Weapon.” Cass pointed to herself. “Not mercy.”

“No.” Tim’s voice broke. “You aren't- whoever told you that is lying. You're the kindest person I know. You’re not a weapon.”

Cass was gripping the hilt of her katana so tightly her hand was beginning to shake. “Kind?”

“Yes.” Tim nodded emphatically.

“I don't… know you,” she sounded regretful. There was anger to it, but she seemed angry at herself now instead of Tim.

“Take my mask off,” Tim offered. He couldn't reach up to her, no matter how badly he wanted to. Both his hands were useless with how she pinned him.

There was hesitation. For a second, Tim was convinced she was going to peel his mask off his corpse.

But then Cass slowly knelt next to Tim, knees crunching against the leaves and pine needles on bare ground. She kept her katana in one hand, but her other one reached for Tim’s face. His mask was carefully peeled off, gentle fingers brushing against his skin.

Cass stared at him for a long time. Tim was vaguely aware he was going to bleed out soon, but all he could think about was his reflection in Cass’ sad eyes.

“Don't know you,” Cass repeated softly. He fingers traced over Tim’s face though, and he held perfectly still. “But…”

“But?” Tim proded when she paused for too long.

“I…” Cass pressed her lips together. It was all too familiar, the exact face she always made when she was trying to find her words. “Think I love you.”

Tim was crying now. Tears falling down his cheeks without an ounce of shame.

“Love you too, Cass,” Tim promised. He gave her the strongest smile he could manage. “Let me help you.”

The softness vanished from her face. She violently shook her head, leaning away from Tim.

“No,” Cass’ voice was strong and firm. “You can't.” She yanked her hand off of Tim’s face, as if his skin had burned her.

“If you love me, then trust me,” Tim begged. He wanted to hold her more than he’d ever wanted something in his life.

Cass shook her head. “Weapon. Will hurt you.” Her eyes drifted to Tim's shoulder and hand that were still pouring blood. “Hurt you,” she whispered, eyes going wide.

“I’m okay,” Tim tried to insist. He was lightheaded and fighting to hold onto consciousness. There was no hiding that from her, but Tim wouldn't let Cass blame herself. “You didn't do this. But you have to tell me who you’re working with. They did this, not you, okay?”

“Can’t.” Tears were starting to fall down Cass’ face too. “Orders.”

“They won't hurt you.” Tim blinked hard. He remembered every tactic Bruce taught him for staying conscious. “I’ll keep you safe, I swear on my life.”

Cass’ fingers twitched toward Tim. Unsure and unsteady. “Safe?”

Tim smiled at her as best he could. “Yes. We’ll both be-”

“If you caught something, you better have killed it by now!” A new voice shouted from a short distance. Followed by heavy footsteps.

Cass snatched her hand away from Tim. Her eyes went wide with unmistakable fear. Then her face went completely blank.

When Tim came to, it was on a medical gurney. He snapped awake with a gasp, trying to sit up. Too many machines were hooked up to him.

That voice. Tim knew that voice. If he just stayed conscious long enough to figure out who it was, he could-

“Careful!” Strong, familiar hands gently pushed Tim back down. “You’re going to tear your stitches.” Dick’s face came into focus as Tim blinked, adjusting to the light.

Tim’s head was spinning. He tried to think, grasping for any recent memories. “What happened?”

“We’re hoping you can tell us,” Dick said softly, concern in his eyes. Behind him, Alfred was cleaning up bloody bandages. “Alfred found you bleeding out in the cave. We… christ, Tim. We thought you weren't gonna make it for a second.”

Tim reached for the bandage wrapping his shoulder. Feeling where Cass’ blade had been.

Cass.

“No one else was here?” Tim asked.

Dick’s frown deepened and he shook his head. “The cameras only picked up on you unconscious at the mouth of the cave.”

“It was Cass,” Tim realized. His heart was stuck in his throat. “I found Cass and- she must've brought me here.”

“The cameras would’ve-”

“She would know how to avoid them,” Tim insisted. “I couldn't have gotten here on my own, Dick. I was already half dead.”

Dick’s face just twisted with more concern. Tim could see the hope he was trying hide, though. “Because of Cass?”

“Someone's manipulating her.” Tim couldn’t get the look on her face out of his head.

“Do you know who?”

Tim thought for a moment. That voice. He definitely knew that voice. He nodded. Tim sat up again, slower this time, already thinking of a plan to get Cass back. He promised her.

“Deathstroke.”

He loved her.

[helenvader]

I just have to quote this in its entirety. 🤣 Trust Fred Colon to make Havelock feel slightly unsettled, and more than slightly ironic.

At precisely eleven o’clock there was a smart rap on Lord Vetinari’s door. The Patrician gave the woodwork a puzzled frown. At last he said: ‘Come.’

Fred Colon entered with difficulty. Vetinari watched him for a few moments until pity overcame even him.

‘Acting captain, it is not necessary to remain to attention at all times,’ he said kindly. ‘You are allowed to unbend enough for the satisfactory manipulation of a doorknob.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari raised a hand to his ear protectively. ‘You may be seated.’

‘Yes, sah!’

‘You may be quieter, too.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari retreated to the protection of his desk. ‘May I commend you on the gleam of your armour, acting captain—’

‘Spit and polish, sah! No substitute for it, sah!’ Sweat was streaming down Colon’s face.

‘Oh, good. Clearly you have been purchasing extra supplies of spit. Now then, let me see …’

Lord Vetinari drew a sheet of paper from one of the small stacks in front of him. ‘Now then, acti—’

‘Sah!’

‘To be sure. I have here another complaint of over-enthusiastic clamping. I’m sure you know to what I refer.’

‘It was causing serious traffic congestion, sah!’

‘Quite so. It is well known for it. But it is, in fact, the opera house.’

‘Sah!’

‘The owner feels that big yellow clamps at each corner detract from what I might call the tone of the building. And, of course, they do prevent him from driving it away.’

‘Sah!’

‘Indeed. I think that this is a case where discretion might be advisable, acting captain!’

‘Got to make an example to the others, sah!’

‘Ah. Yes.’ The Patrician held another piece of paper delicately between thumb and forefinger, as though it was some rare and strange creature. ‘The others being … let me see if I can recall, some things do stick in the mind so … ah, yes … three other buildings, six fountains, three statues and the gibbet in Nonesuch Street. Oh, and my own palace.’

‘I fully understand you’re parked on business, sah!’

Lord Vetinari paused. He found it difficult to talk to Frederick Colon. He dealt on a daily basis with people who treated conversation as a complex game, and with Colon he had to keep on adjusting his mind in case he overshot. ‘Pursuing the business of your recent career with, I have to admit, some considerable and growing fascination, I am moved to ask you why the Watch now appears to have a staff of twenty.’

‘Sah?’

‘You had around sixty a little while ago, I’m sure.’

Colon mopped his face. ‘Cutting out the dead wood, sah! Making the Watch leaner an’ fitter, sah!’

‘I see. The number of internal disciplinary charges you have laid against your men’ – and here the Patrician picked up a much thicker document – ‘seems somewhat excessive. I see no fewer than one hundred and seventy-three offences of eyeballing, earlobing and nostrilling, for example.’

‘Sah!’

‘Nostrilling, acting captain?’

‘Sah!’

‘Oh. And I see, ah yes, one charge of “making his arm fall off in an insubordinate way” laid against Constable Shoe. Commander Vimes has always given me glowing reports about this officer.’

‘’e’s a nasty piece of work, sah! You can’t trust the dead ones!’

‘Nor, it would seem, most of the live ones.’

‘Sah!’ Colon leaned forward, his face twisted in a ghastly grimace of conspiratoriality. ‘Between you and me, sir, Commander Vimes was a good deal too soft on them. He let them get away with too much. No sugar is safe, sah!’

Vetinari’s eyes narrowed, but the telescopes on Planet Colon were far too unsophisticated to detect his mood.

‘I certainly recall him mentioning a couple of officers whose time-keeping, demeanour, and all-round uselessness were a dreadful example to the rest of the men,’ said the Patrician.

‘There’s my point,’ said Colon triumphantly. ‘One bad apple ruins the whole barrel!’

‘I think there’s only a basket now,’ said the Patrician. ‘A punnet, possibly.’

‘Don’t you worry about a thing, your lordship! I’ll turn things around. I’ll soon get them smartened up!’

‘I am sure you have it in you to surprise me even further,’ said Vetinari, leaning back. ‘I shall definitely keep my eye on you as the man to watch. And now, acting captain, do you have anything else to report?’

‘All nice and quiet, sah!’

‘I would that it was,’ said Vetinari. ‘I was just wondering if there was anything going on involving any person in this city called’ – he looked down at another sheet of paper – ‘Sonky?’

Captain Colon almost swallowed his tongue. ‘Minor matter, sah!’ he managed.

‘So, Sonky is alive?’

‘Er … found dead, sah!’

‘Murdered?’

‘Sah!’

‘Dear me. Many people would not consider that a minor matter, acting captain. Sonky, for one.’

‘Well, sah, not everyone agrees with what he does, sah.’

‘Are we by any chance talking about Wallace Sonky? The manufacturer of rubber goods?’

‘Sah!’

‘Boots and gloves seem non-controversial to me, acting captain.’

‘It’s, er, the other stuff, sah!’ Colon coughed nervously. ‘He makes them rubber wallies, sah.’

‘Ah. The preventatives.’

‘Lot of people don’t agree with that sort of thing, sah.’

‘So I understand.’

Colon drew himself up to attention again. ‘Not natural, in my view, sah. Not in favour of unnatural things.’

Vetinari looked perplexed. ‘You mean, you eat your meat raw and sleep in a tree?’

‘Sah?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing. Someone in Uberwald seems to be taking an interest in him lately. And now he’s dead. I would not dream of telling the Watch their job, of course.’ He watched Colon carefully to see if this had sunk in. ‘I said that it is entirely up to you to choose what to investigate in this bustling city,’ he prompted.

Colon was lost in unfamiliar country without a map. ‘Thank you, sah!’ he barked.

Vetinari sighed. ‘And now, acting captain, I’m sure there’s much that needs your attention.’

‘Sah! I’ve got plans to—’

‘I meant, do not let me detain you.’

‘Oh, that’s all right, sir, I’ve got plenty of time—’

‘Goodbye, Acting Captain Colon.’

Out in the anteroom Fred Colon stood very still for a while, until his heartbeat wound down from a whine to at least a purr.

It had, on the whole, gone quite well. Very well. Amazingly well, really. His lordship had practically taken him into his confidence. He’d called him ‘a man to watch’.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

New Girl [01]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 5,417

Warning: self-doubt, anxiety, hurt/comfort, cursing

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on  your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t  you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out  at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to  reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

[01]: REBOUND SEX

“Wow, I regret this.” Bucky bobbed his head once and turned to look at Peter who stood in the kitchen with him, “What the fuck did you do to us?”

“How is this my fault??” Peter scoffed.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “Uh, I think your exact words were, ‘Come on, guys. Models will be crawling around the apartment. This will be an absolute dream.’” He pointed to the living room where you were slumped over on the couch watching the same movie you had put on a week and a half ago. “We have used tissues, a crying girl, and I now have the ability to quote Legally Blonde in my sleep.”

“There are less models than I thought there’d be.” Peter mumbled to himself.

Clint stepped out of his bedroom door, it sat by the kitchen, and clapped his hands, “Legally Blonde is a great movie. Excuse you.”

“Yeah, I agreed until about the 132nd hour of it.” Bucky said between clenched teeth. “We need to do something to stop this nonsense, and by we I mean you.” He turned to point at Peter. “You got us into this. You get us out.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Bucky crossed his arms, “I don’t know. Crying girls aren’t my specialty.”

“And they’re mine??” Peter scoffed.

Clint shrugged, “We just assumed you make girls cry all the time. Plus, you’re like super tight with Gamora and Mantis, right? They’re girls.”

“What part of who Gamora is makes you think she cries at all?” Peter replied.

“Yeah, but Mantis seems like the type to tear up every other day at the least.” Bucky countered. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Mantis was empathetic to an extreme. He had just watched her cry at a commercial where a dog kept trying to hide a bone, but people kept digging it up. That didn’t mean he wanted this responsibility placed on him though.

Peter’s mouth fell open with a silent argument, but Bucky just glared at him and Clint’s attention was already focused in on the coffee pot. He grumbled under his breath and turned to stalk over to the living room couch where you were sprawled out sniffling.

“Heeeeey.” Peter dragged the word out as chirpily as he could.

You turned your face away from the screen to look at Peter who had just sat down by your feet. He gave you a sheepish smile and began to pat your ankle with his hand at an awkward pace. You assumed he was trying to bring you comfort, that’s probably what the whisper fight in the kitchen had been about, but it didn’t help.

“Hi.” You greeted before blowing your nose. Peter grimaced, but you just slowly sat up and pointed to the screen. “You wanna watch Legally Blonde with me?”

Peter shook his head, “No. No, I really don’t. I’d love to never see this movie ever again. Ever.“

“Sorry.” You deflated. “I know it’s annoying, but Legally Blonde is my breakup movie.”

“Right. I get that.” He paused. “Well, I really don’t actually because I don’t understand how this is your breakup movie.”

You stuck your lower lip out into a pout, “Elle Woods is a strong independent woman who needs no man.”

“Mhmm, okay.” Peter reached out for the remote and paused the TV, “Here’s the thing though. This isn’t going to make you feel better. What we need to do is go out and find you a rebound.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know if I’m ready for a rebound.”

“You’re so ready for a rebound. Sex with strangers fixes everything.”

“I don’t know…” You replied skeptically. For the past three years, you had only been with one guy. In fact, you had mentally already established that he would be the only guy you’d be with for the rest of your life. He had been your future. The thought of going out and trying to find someone new was… daunting. It also sounded a little impossible. Did you even remember how to flirt with a stranger? You grimaced, “I don’t even think I know how—”

“That’s what we’re for!” Peter gave you a broad grin, “You’re coming out with us tonight and we are going to find you someone new.”

“Really?”

Peter nodded and set his hand on your shoulder, “Absolutely. We are going to get you some good, after breakup sex.” He smirked. “Even if I have to knuckle down and get in there myself—”

“Jar!” Bucky and Clint yelled from the kitchen.

Peter cursed under his breath and moved to put money in the jar designed for him. His words hadn’t even fazed you, your time here had gotten you used to some of the things Peter said. He was a really good guy who sometimes slipped into a douchebag headspace. All the guys here were good guys. Clint was a disaster, you found him sitting on the dining room table at 2 AM once chugging coffee from the actual pot and he still used a flip phone for some odd reason, but he was also sweetheart that would sit on the couch with you at some odd time in the morning to watch your comfort movie. Sam seemed the more responsible one in the loft, when he wasn’t trying to one up or mock Bucky, and he reminded you of a caring older brother. Especially when he made you breakfast last week before the two of you left for work and talked to you about one of his worse breakups. Then there was Bucky. Bucky was… well, he was grumpy for lack of a more accurate word. He was kind of like a 100-year-old trapped inside a 26-year-old’s body. You hadn’t gotten to spend much time with him yet but you knew he meant well. He was protective of the loft group.

You sunk in your seat and rolled the thought of going out around your head. The idea of finding someone new was terrifying, but you couldn’t sit on this couch and cry forever. Plus, the boys would be there to make sure you didn’t cave in on yourself. Peter had said so himself. Fortune favored the bold, right?

You shifted in the booth and tried to readjust the dress you had put on. It felt weird to be in something that wasn’t your pajamas or your work clothes. The bar was crowded, unsurprising on a Friday night, and the atmosphere was comfortable. You hadn’t really found a bar in the city that you liked enough to frequent, but this one was actually kind of nice. It was kind of a mess, not in a super great area of the city, and some would probably use the word ‘sketchy’ or ‘ancient’ or ‘weird, carpeted drinking hole in the wall’ to describe it, but you liked it. This was the bar where Bucky worked and somehow that made sense to you.

“You look great, stop fidgeting.” Peter said from beside you. Sam, on his other side, nodded in agreement and you gave the boys a small smile. It did kind of feel nice to clean up again. “Here comes Buck.”

You glanced over to see your roommate make his way toward the booth with drinks in his hands. Bucky wore jeans with a long sleeve t-shirt and a short sleeve one on top of that. His sleeves were rolled up though and he had a rag thrown over his shoulder casually. “Alright, here.” Bucky set the two beer bottles he was carrying in one hand onto the table in front of Peter and Sam then set a glass of wine in front of you. It was the same as the type you drank at home. “You coach her into finding a winner yet, Quill?”

“I don’t like your tone.” Peter replied then took a swig of his beer. Bucky chuckled once, shook his head, then wandered back to the bar. Peter turned to you, “Alright. Rules of the night. You will speak in short sentences, you will not mention anything about your ex, unless you’re talking about rebound sex, and you will be going home with a date at the very least or my name isn’t Star Lord.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Your name isn’t Star Lord, dumbass.”

“Stage name, Sam. Jesus. How many times do I have to have this conversation with you people?”

“Okay.” You ignored the argument between them that you definitely had heard before and looked around the bar. There was a cute guy leaning against a pillar talking to some of his friends. He wasn’t half bad. “He’s kind of cute.”

Peter focused back on you, “Go get him, tiger.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Go…talk to him?? Like where he can hear me?”

“Him hearing you is an important part yes.”

Your hand tightened around your glass. Sam cleared his throat and motioned to you with his bottle, “You don’t have to do this. As the self-appointed voice of reason, I think I’m supposed to suggest waiting until you’re ready.”

“Waiting ‘til you’re ready is for pussies.” Peter said.

“Jar.” Sam snapped his gaze to him.

“We aren’t even in the loft! There’s no bar jar!”

You didn’t want to wait. You wanted to be over your shitty ex-boyfriend and if this was how you had to do it then so be it. Without waiting, you threw back half the wine in your glass, Peter and Sam both made noises of surprise, then you stood up and pointed at them, “Rebound sex, bitches.”

Peter and Sam both chuckled and you whipped around to go talk to the cute guy. You could do this. You could do this. You were a fucking catch, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Obviously, your ex didn’t think that when he cheated on you. Apparently, you weren’t good enough for him—no! No, bad thoughts. Just flirty thoughts. You could do this damn it.

Could you do this??

Bucky poured another drink, delivered it, then moved to wipe the bar of any spills. When he looked back up, both Sam and Peter were sitting at the bar in front of him. Clint was at work tonight, which meant they had no idea where he was, but that was the norm for them. Peter leaned onto the bar and clasped his hands together.

“Bucky, I need you to get us into the Stark party.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Bucky replied. Peter gave him a hard look and he rolled his eyes in response, “I am not calling my ex-girlfriend to get you into this dumb party—”

“We go every year! You can’t take this from me. The theme is wild wild west. Do you know how cute of an outlaw I make? We have to go.”

Bucky shook his head, “I am not calling Elektra.”

“Why?” Sam raised an eyebrow at him, “You call her drunk all the time.”

“I do not.” Bucky glared at him.

“You literally called her drunk three days ago.” Peter said. “Now please—”

Bucky shook his head again, “No. I’m not gonna do it.”

“I thought you loved me!”

“Well, like always, you were wrong.” Bucky replied dryly. He glanced around the bar, “Where is little miss rebound sex? Did you idiots leave her alone?”

“She’s fine. She’s picking up a dude right now.” Peter pointed behind him. Bucky leaned to the side to look past his giant head and spotted you leaning against the wall talking to some random guy. From the looks of it you were talking very, very fast, maybe not even breathing, and your hands were flying around as you told whatever story you were telling.Your hand caught the edge of his drink and it spilled back on the dude. Bucky grimaced, Sam flinched, and Peter groaned. “Okay. Maybe she’s not picking up a dude right now.”

Bucky pointed in your direction, “That was painful to watch. Go save her.”

“She’s a big girl. She’s just gotta…brush off the cobwebs. Get back in the groove.” Peter argued.

Sam took a big sip of his beer then set it down and stood, “I’ll go get her.”

“Thank you.” Bucky replied and went to serve another customer. When he came back, Peter was giving him a pleading look that bordered on pathetic and pitiful. “Quill, I said no.”

Peter grumbled, “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

“—and I think it was going okay until I spilled his drink.” You said as Sam motioned for you to take what had been his seat. All three men shook their heads at you, and you groaned in defeat before setting your head down at the bar. God, you were so out of practice.

Peter and Sam said you needed a break and they peeled away to talk to some other friends while you moped at the bar. This was the place for it after all. Someone cleared their throat, and when you looked up Bucky was still in front of you. He had placed a new wine glass by your resting head. You took it with a small smile, “Thanks.” He nodded his head once. You took a long sip then spoke, “Well I guess at the end of the day, I just can’t hide my crazy enough to pick up a guy anymore.”

“I really don’t think you’re trying that hard to hide it, doll.” Bucky shook his head.

You chuckled, “I’ve just…never been good at this.” Sad thoughts began to creep in again. Doubts that you’d ever find someone to put up with for another three years. You took another big sip of your drink and motioned to Bucky, “Well, at least I’m not alone.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you continued. “Just a couple of dumped losers, huh?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky argued with a shake of his head. “It’s been six months.”

“Do you know why she dumped you?”

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Didn’t make a difference.” Bucky grabbed a glass to clear with his rag and gave you a tight lipped, awkward smile, “All I knew was that I wanted to set her trash cans on fire afterwards so…”

“You don’t wonder, like, what you could’ve done differently?” You asked, leaning onto the bar, “Racking your brain at night, wondering what’s wrong with you.” Bucky gave you a skeptical look and you forced another chuckle. “You know what happens when you keep all your emotions bottled up inside like you do?”

Bucky hummed, “What?”

“You become old, and bitter, and sad, and a little weird.”

“Who says I’m not already all of that?” Bucky scoffed.

You pointed at him, “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, his jaw locked, then he leaned forward with another smile that wasn’t quite a smile, “You’re right. Maybe I should just be more like you. Watching weird movies on repeat and burning through twelve boxes of tissues and talking about it with anyone who stands too close to me.”

“Yes!” You nodded with a smile, “Exactly! Let it out!”

“I’m trying to be mean to you.” Bucky replied. “I’m very obviously not going to do that.”

“Why not??” You asked.

Bucky gave you a deadpanned look, “Because I have a penis.”

You stared back at him for a moment before speaking in a deep, mocking, grumpy tone, “’My name is Bucky Barnes and I have a penis, blah, blah, and I won’t talk about my feelings, blah, blah’,” Bucky’s lips twitched up in the corner to form a smirk, “’And I wanna set trash cans on fire or something, blah.’”

Bucky glanced away, steeling his features, then looked back to you, “Doll, I watched you spill a $30 glass of whiskey on a guy.”

“Jesus, it cost him $30?? Who pays that much for a drink??” You pressed. Bucky tilted his head slightly and you cleared your throat and straightened your back as you spoke with dignity, “I mean, maybe that’s just one of my moves, Barnes.”

Bucky nodded, “Mhmm.”

You gave him a bright grin, but the conversation was interrupted when someone suddenly sat beside you. It was a curly haired guy that you had seen speaking with Peter earlier in the night. One of his friends who was also in a band of some kind or another. He leaned on the bar with a smirk, “Hey.”

“Hi.” You replied nervously, your eyes darted to Bucky who gave you a nod. Encouraged you introduced yourself.

The guy asked if you wanted to find a booth and you rose eagerly and followed his lead. Bucky watched you walk across the bar toward a back booth. He wasn’t crazy about any of Peter’s band friends. They were all assholes, and he was a bit hesitant to let you walk away with one. You suddenly turned and shot him a thumb’s up while mouthing, ‘oh yeah’. When you turned back to the guy, Bucky chuckled to himself with a shake of his head.

To be honest, he was surprised to see how okay you seemed to be. It had been a couple weeks since your boyfriend cheated on you and yet here you were trying to get back on the horse. It had been six months since him and Elektra broke up and he was still drunk dialing her.

Bucky reached under the bar to grab his phone and shot off a brief text asking if Elektra could get them into the Stark party. She was one of the assistants that worked there, and she usually got them in every year.

Ten minutes later, Peter and Sam circled back around, and both were surprised to see you in the corner booth talking to a guy. Peter nodded, “Damn, that’s Jonny. Look at her go. What a pull.”

“Jonny is a tool.” Sam replied.

“Yeah, but rebound sex is rebound sex.” Peter replied. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Peter whipped around to face Bucky, “One last time. I am begging—”

Bucky interrupted him, “I already texted Elektra. She got us in.” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing skeptically. Peter on the other hand let out a squeal of excitement and then lunged his top half over the bar to hug him. Bucky hugged back briefly, but as Peter pulled back, he felt a kiss on his shoulder. Bucky motioned to him, “Did you just kiss me on the arm?”

“Yes.” Peter replied unashamedly. “You deserve it.”

A couple more minutes passed before you ran over while Jonny left. All eyes shot to you and you pumped your fist in excitement, “Guess who has a date!” The men cheered for you and you gave Peter and Sam high fives. “Yeah, I just spoke in short sentences, didn’t wave my arms around, and then I told him I want rebound sex—”

Bucky’s eyes widened, “You what??”

“—and then he asked me out!” You jumped in place. “Tomorrow is date night!”

Peter shook his head and yanked your forward into a hug, “I’m so proud of you. Our little girl is all grown up.”

Jonny wasn’t your soulmate by any means, but a date was a date. This was a very good step in the right direction and you were beyond excited to move your thoughts away from your ex.

The loft was silent as five people sat in the living room staring at one another. Well, more accurately four men were staring at one gorgeous, red headed model. Natasha Romanoff sat in a recliner facing the couch while her best friend’s new roommates sat across from her staring—no, gawking.

She crossed her legs, “Do the shoes fit?”

From your in the back she heard a loud thud then you yelled back that you were alright. Natasha turned her attention back to the men in front of her. The one named Clint gave her a small nod, “You a model or something?”

“Yes.” She replied slowly. “Mostly print right now so…”

Peter, sitting between Bucky and Sam, sat forward, “You said it was Natasha?” She didn’t reply. He smirked and Bucky began to roll his eyes before words even left the blond’s mouth. “Tell me, what are your hopes and dreams?” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. He shifted in his seat, “Are you—Are you warm? It’s a little—”

“Don’t.” Bucky said firmly, but Peter was already shrugging out of his shirt. “I said—”

Peter threw the shirt behind him, “I’m a little warm right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, “Please put your shirt back on. Don’t make me laugh at you.”

“Can i get you a drink? Coffee? Water? Some tea?” Peter questioned. Sam and Bucky were both just staring at him now while Clint just continued to gawk at her in stunned silence. Peter nodded, “Some tea bag action.”

Sam nodded, “There it is. Douchebag.”

“Got it.” Bucky reached over to grab the jar and slapped it into Peter’s chest making him yelp in pain while trying to dig out dollar bill from his jeans.

Natasha just watched the interaction and wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into. The red head uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, with a smile she knew was more menacing than charming, “Listen to me. That girl back there is my best friend. The greatest person to walk this planet. An angel.” She laced her fingers together while Bucky took the, now one dollar heavier, jar and placed it back on the shelf. “If you guys let anything happen to her, if you hurt her, I am going to come here and crazy murder you.”

The men all bobbed their heads in agreement. Sam respected the loyalty, Bucky was a little fearful because the woman definitely had eyes that screamed, ‘I’ve killed someone before’, Clint fell a little more in love, and Peter… well, Peter.

“I’m gonna be honest with you.” Their resident idiot started again. “I did not hear a word you said because I can kind of see your party hats right now through that dress.”

Bucky sighed, “There we go.” He leaned over to grab the jar and gave it back to Peter. “Just hold onto that until she leaves, yeah?”

Natasha called out for you and stood to seek you out. She distinctly heard Sam question why Peter was talking this way while she walked out. When she opened the first door on the right in the hallway she came face to face with you lying sprawled out on the floor wearing pajamas and her heels.

You sat up partially to see Natasha standing in the door staring at you quizzically. You gave her a tight smile, “Nat! I fell and I can’t get up. I think I live here now.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Natasha walked over and helped you sit up. “You okay?”

“No.” You groaned and buried your face into your hands, “I can’t go on a date. What if it’s horrible?? What if I have nothing to talk about??”

Natasha reached forward to grip your chin, “Then you go to the bathroom, you call me, and  I show up to rescue you.”

“Maybe I just shouldn’t go.” You mumbled. The excitement from last night had simmered as you sobered up and all day today your nerves just grew and grew and grew.

“Babe, you got hurt.” Natasha replied. “That doesn’t mean you stop trying.”

Natasha was right. She was always right. From the moment you met her in the 7th grade, you knew she was right. The red head been there for you through thick and thin and you had been there for her. It took several days to convince her not to actually murder your ex-boyfriend because you didn’t want to have to hang out with her in jail instead of your favorite coffee place.

She looped her arm through yours and dragged you into your closet to change. Fifteen minutes later, you were all dolled up and feeling confident. Your friend had a very good way of turning your mess into something special. Natasha was gorgeous, and an amazing model, but you always felt like her talents were wasted. She’d make such a good stylist or designer. You turned to her and gave her a tight lip smile, “Thanks, Nat. You’re the best.”

“I know.” She replied with a quick hug. “Now go knock your date dead and if he hurts you—”

“You’ll knock him dead. I know, I know.” You laughed.

Stark parties were known for being loud, crowded, and wild. The billionaire knew how to throw them that was for damn sure. For someone like Peter who thrived on huge crowds and large music, it was paradise. For someone like Bucky who liked day drinking in an uncrowded bar, this was kind of a nightmare. Still, his friends enjoyed it and he could usually have a good time as long as his friends did. Maybe he could be a little more like you and find a rebound himself.

The theme tonight was ‘Wild, Wild West’. Bucky wore his normal clothes, Sam wore his normal clothes, but with a cowboy hat, Clint had a bundle of rope wrapped around his torso which made him look more like a rock climber than a cowboy, and Peter was decked out in full outlaw costume.

“Oh, there she is. Go get us in.” Peter slapped his chest and Bucky shot him a glare.

Like Peter had said, his ex-girlfriend stood outside the doors by the line waiting for them. She looked great tonight. Elektra hadn’t dressed in costume. Instead she had on a tight, red mini dress with her dark hair pulled up into a long ponytail. Bucky swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and wandered over. His friends stayed a few steps back.

“El.” He greeted awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Bucky.” She beamed. “It’s nice to see you. I was happy to get a text from you while you were sober rather than a 3 AM drunk dial.”

Bucky waved off her words, “Drunk dial? No. You must be getting pranked or something. That wasn’t me.”

“I have caller ID, Buck.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Anyways, so the party?”

“Let me go talk to the bouncer and I’ll get you guys in.” She gave him a soft look, “Then maybe me and you can catch up?”

The logical side of him said that was a bad idea, but every single other side was thrilled. He nodded and watched her walk over to the bouncer. As he turned around to let the others know what was going on, some of Peter’s asshole buddies wandered up. The two loud men greeted them, and Bucky suddenly recognized one of them.

“You’re Jonny.”

“That’s me! What up, my man—”

Bucky demanded to know where you were. The others stiffened while all eyes shot to the curly haired man. “Did your date already end or did you bring her?”

Jonny shook his head, cowboy hat nearly falling off, “Who?”

Sam snapped your name at the man, then added, “The girl from last night.”

“Ohhh, yeah.” He laughed, “Look, I was just looking for a hook up. She was texting me all day long. Constantly. I didn’t want nothing to do with that.”

Clint crossed his arms, “And you told her this?”

“No. Why would I?”

“So, she’s just at the restaurant alone waiting for you?!” Sam cried out.

Jonny shrugged and Bucky had to physically resist the urge to punch the man. God, this was awful. Your had been so excited for the date. Your friend had gotten you all dressed up and now you were alone somewhere being stood up. Bucky shook his head, “Come on, guys. We gotta go.”

“But—But the party?” Peter motioned behind him.

“Pete.” Clint said. The outlaw of a man nodded once in agreement. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, spotting Elektra still talking to the bouncer, then sighed. You needed them and they didn’t leave a roommate behind.

You sat at the table, eating your third basket of bread, and wondering if your water glass was deep enough to drown yourself in. This was probably one of the more pathetic moments of your life. Stood up by a guy who played tambourine in whatever band he was in. Jonny hadn’t been your type, but a rebound was just about getting back on the bike, right? Well, you had jumped onto the bike only to immediately ride out into traffic and get hit by a semi.

The waitress began to make her way back to you and you couldn’t help but sink in your seat a little. Maybe she wouldn’t see you. The woman stopped in front of you and picked up the empty bread basket with a frown, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to ask you to give up the table now.”

“Can I get…one more bread basket?” You mumbled.

“No.”

You nodded in understanding and went to grab your purse. Before you could stand from your chair though, you heard yelling at the front and suddenly four familiar faces ran into the upscale restaurant. Sam was in a cowboy hat, Clint was carrying rope around his chest, and Peter was literally dressed like a space cowboy of some kind. Bucky looked like Bucky though. The four of them ran over to your table yelling that they were here and you laughed.

“We’re here. Sorry we’re late.” Bucky said to the waitress.

“You’re her date? All of you?”

Sam nodded, “Yes. We are her boyfriends.”

“One isn’t enough for her.” Clint shrugged. “We’re sister wives, but the male version.”

“Brother husbands?” Peter supplied.

You chuckled, but you could feel your eyes watering at the sight of them. Bucky leaned his hands on the chair in front of you and shook his head, “Doll, that guy was an asshole.” The other guys nodded and chimed in agreement. “He’s missing out.”

“You guys skipped your party to come and see me?”

“Course.” Bucky answered. “We care about you. We like you.”

Sam nodded and sat down at the chair to your left, “You’re family. Whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it.” You said, holding back tears. “I like it a lot.”

Peter dropped down into the chair on your right, “Besides, it’s Stark. He’ll always throw another party. It’s kind of what the guy is known for.”

Clint pulled a chair away from a table beside you, ignoring the glares from the couple sitting there, and brought it to the table to sit while Bucky took the chair he had his hands on. The guys picked up menus and began to look them over and you felt your chest swell in happiness. You didn’t think it was possible to be so happy considering how sad you had been just moments before. You liked these guys, and knowing they liked you enough to take care of you like this just made you so soft.

Bucky caught your eye, and he gave you a smile. Not a tense one, not an awkward one or a half grimace like you had seen, he gave you a real smile that made his entire face brighten. The kind that up until now you only saw the guys pull out of him. It made you feel like you belonged, “We got your back, doll.”

“Hey, guys.” Clint said slowly and looked up from his menu, “Yeah, I can only afford the tap water here.”

Sam flipped his menu over and his eyes widened, “Jesus, that’s excessive for a salad.”

You nodded, “It’s stupid expensive. That’s why I’ve only eaten the bread.”

“Alright,” Bucky tossed the menu onto the table, “Pizza at the loft?”

There was a chorus of agreements and everyone rose from the table. You stood and when Sam held one arm out to you, you didn’t hesitate to fold into his side for a hug. The boys walked you out of the restaurant while Clint told some story about his odd job yesterday and while the others laughed at his expense all you could do was bask in the warmth they radiated. You always thought the best part of the loft was the open floor plan, but as it turns out, the best part was the adopted family you accidentally fell into.

[milogreer]

For that thing you just reblogged (I'm sooo good explaining myself), Lasko? ^^

hi morgan! 👋🏼 ty for letting me talk about lasko again hehe ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: so … i almost didn’t get into the DAMN arc when i should have chronologically 🫣 when i saw that there was gonna be new characters i was so reluctant to get into them bc i just wanted the ones i already knew. but he had me hooked in his first audio cause the way he went “shit- i mean damn- DARN. ah fuck” made me laugh 💘

My impression now: LASKO 🥰🥰 my number two guy!! he’s made me so genuinely rabid sometimes that i don’t even know how i’ve survived it. i really really love how his character has developed & still is developing now with his coworker. i miss him so dearly, i hope he comes back soon despite the pack weddings on the horizon

A favorite thing: i always think it’s so funny when he swears and then tries to correct himself even outside of work settings. babes it’s okay!! you can say fuck! this is a safe space beloved swear all you want bc i swear like a fuckin sailor

Least favorite thing: not least favorite in an “i don’t like this” way but in a “this makes me so so sad” way: oh man. the ways he puts himself down, like. when he says “i don’t know if you should have to see the ‘nothing special’ side of me yet” ??? oh my god. there was a similar line in the FL/gavin/lasko BA that made me hurt so much i had to pause and walk away for a minute ☹️

Favorite line/scene: “being with you, how i feel when i’m with you, how i feel right now… it’s proof that new isn’t scary. i don’t have to be scared of something just because it’s unfamiliar.” …. i actually haven’t ever relistened to the first time audio bc it did psychic damage to me LOL but i had to find the exact quote... this audio and the “slowing down” audio i feel gave him a lot of depth beyond “nervous sub who gets freaky sometimes” and i love it for him!!

Favorite interaction that character has with another: listen listen listen okay. i love gavin/lasko as much as the next person. i eat up every single interaction like it’s the most expensive dessert on the menu. HOWEVER. lasko inviting huxley to join his dnd campaign when they're first reconnecting makes me so happy 🥺💕

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: milo ummm hmm…. tbh i always love when lasko and damien get like Real Interactions. i think they should have more one on ones that aren’t about DAMN or damien worrying that he’s freaking lasko out/lasko being nervous about damien’s intensity

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of them: i have forgotten every single other character i’ve ever met 🫣 i think i'm gonna take this option out for the other asks i got unless someone rly hits me lskjdgsd

A headcanon: i know it’s popular fanon already but i really do love when he is tall and bespectacled. mwah. also i think he likes vocaloid. it’s just a feeling i have

A song: against the kitchen floor by will wood !!!! i’ve posted it before but it’s always the first one i think of for lasko

An unpopular opinion: we need less twinky baby-faced white boy laskos. being submissive doesn't automatically make you a skinny twink!! giving him fat, facial hair, wrinkles, etc will not kill him i promise

[irishcoyote]

Inflamed Sense of Rejection: Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: This is that Angel Face backstory I was talking about. His name is Caleb Handover because I'm not going to call him Angel Face the whole time. There will be no "spice" because I type this on a school computer and honestly I want to expand my writing abilities. ~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a horrible way to start a journal, probably the most over-done and unintriguing sentence used to start a story, but my name is Caleb Handover. I’m 16 years old, and I live in Wilmington, Delaware. I go to Mt. Pleasant High School, class of 2001. That makes me a Junior.

It’s boring. Every single day is the same. The ducks pass over the sky when I’m walking to school, and it looked cool when I was nine, but nowadays it just feels like I’m watching someone drive to work. 

Delaware duck schedule: 6 AM, wake up to the same alarm as everyone in the neighborhood. 7 AM, fly to the pond for breakfast and a bath. Pass by that blond kid again. 

My hair was born white. People on the street asked my mom while she was pushing the stroller, why do you bleach your baby’s hair? 

She never did. 

 First period is Advanced Placement Calculus. I’m thinking about ducks. Derivatives, ducks, hyperbolas, ducks, factorials, ducks, integrals…

My mom called my hair duck-fuzz.  

I like math, but I only say that because high schoolers have to like something. If you say you don’t like any subjects in school, you sound like a wannabe-dropout loser. I’m 16 years old and taking AP Calculus. I don’t think I’m a wannabe anything, but I don’t think I’m genuine, either. I’ve already done the warmup question on the board. Find 34! It’s just a factorial. Does anyone see me?

“Caleb Handover?”

Only during attendance. 

I raise my hand until my elbow is about six inches off of my table, parallel to the smooth, fake-wood surface. Not high enough to seem like a geek, but still giving effort.  

Invisibility is a science.

“Here.” 

There’s a pause. My hand stays in the air.

“Caleb Handover?” my teacher tilts his chin up and surveys the room, his pencil hovering over my name, ready to write truant. 

“I said I’m here,” I said louder as I raised my hand higher. My pen balances between my peace-sign fingers. My teacher flicks his eyes to me, and his eyebrows soften. He adjusts his glasses. The sad taste of desperation lingered in my mouth after essentially begging to be accounted for.

“Oh, hello Caleb. Sorry I didn’t see you.” My teacher laughs dryly and clears his throat. “Serena Hofstadter?” 

She has mono. 

“Gordon Jacobs?” 

That’s how Serena got mono.

For a moment I picture Serena and Gordon as Romeo and Juliet during the final act. Gordon drinks from a tall, crystal vial of mononucleosis extract and collapses. Serena, covered head-to-toe in orange spray tan and blonde highlights underneath her Shakespearean garb, discovers him on the floor and gives a tearful soliloquy before kissing him feverishly in an attempt to drink the mono from his lips. In the end, they’re both bedridden, and everyone knows. 

In fair Delaware we lay our scene.

I don’t know why, but I’m angry at them. Serena and Gordon. My knuckles turn white as I grip my pen harder, gritting my teeth and thinking about my peers who go to parties to drink and kiss and do drugs. I didn’t even think parties were a real thing until I started listening to rich kids’ conversations. 

“I got home so late last night…” quote from the boy wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“I’m, like, so hungover.” quote from the girl wearing sunglasses indoors at 8:30 AM.

“Her house was so tacky.” quote from the girl whose locker is head-to-toe in sequins and leopard print, who uses perfume to cover the smell of anxiety pheromones. 

I’m not jealous, and I’d rather have lifelong diarrhea than be in the same boat as these kids, but it would be nice to have a life. 

It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, and if I should keep writing this. It would be appreciated :)

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART ONE

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Joe's Barber Shop is a 55-year-old ship in Chicago's Logan Square neighborhood.

Thanks, as always, to @stunudo and @brrose-apothecary for pre-reading and being my friends.

Black Tie Optional master list

PART ONE

As planned, Dean and Sam leave bright and early on Thursday morning. They make a stop in Lincoln to hit up a priest who was rumored to have intel on Amara. That priest sends them to a rabbi in Omaha, who sends them to a Lutheran pastor in Des Moines. Their last lead is a psychic in Davenport; she tries to stab Sam because she’s still mad about the demon blood thing, and they walk away no better than they were at 5 AM.

Around midnight, Dean pulls into the Naperville Motel 6. He cuts the engine and unfolds from the driver’s seat.

“Grab those burritos, would ya? I’ll get our suits.” He ducks into the back seat to retrieve his duffle and their hanging clothes for the weekend. When he looks up, Sam is giving him a look.

Dean rolls his eyes. “What?” He secures the bags and knees Baby’s backdoor shut.

Sam arches both brows as he shuts his own door. “You like this girl.”

“No, Sam, I’m blowing off my soul-sucking ‘soul mate,’” he pauses, juggling bags and keys to air-quote his point, “and hauled ass halfway across the country for bupkis.”

Dean rounds the trunk, and Sam stifles a snort. “I just can’t believe we’re dressing like this, and it isn’t for a job.”

Dean mutters something as he slots the key into the room lock. “Sam, we just got these suits cleaned-”

“Dude, you don’t need to make excuses.” Sam follows his brother inside the room.

“Plus,” Dean continues as he strides toward the small clothes rack, “we got an all-expenses paid weekend with two beautiful women waitin’ for us at a swank hotel.”

“I’m not complaining-”

“Good.” Dean hangs the garment bags on the bar and separates them before unzipping his bag. As he assesses the colors and reconsiders his shoes, he thinks of another reason. “Besides, we own this shit, might as well get our money’s worth off the clock.”

He swipes a hand down the front of his (brand-new) black button-up before turning to face his brother again, who doesn’t appear impressed.

“What?!”

Sam doesn’t stifle anything this time; he laughs out loud. “How are you the same brother of mine who thinks turning boxers inside out is the same as washing them?”

Dean cocks his jaw and glares at Sam. “First of all, that was a joke I made one time. Second...” His eyes start to glaze over with memories. “Vanessa is one of the Top 5 best nights of my life ��� like I still have a pair of her panties in my nightstand drawer-”

“OK,” Sam interrupts his brother with one word and a large open palm facing out. “I don’t need the details. I’m taking a shower.” He crosses the room to set his bag on one of the beds before zipping it open to retrieve his Dopp kit. 

“I’m gonna text Vanessa.” Dean drops his duffle on the other bed and pulls out his phone.

“Fine, just get your sexting done before I’m out.” Sam firmly closes the bathroom door behind him.

“Pssh,” Dean brushes Sam off as he taps out a message to his wedding date.

How ya doin, kitten?

Looking forward to seeing you.

Me too... crashing in Naperville tonight, got a couple errands to run, probably get in around 3 tomorrow

Perfect. Em and I are in a double queen lakefront suite. We’ll get the adjoining king room tomorrow for you and me.

Lakefront suite, sounds fancy

It’s not The Peninsula, but it’s a cool old hotel.

We’re at Motel 6 right now and that’s nice compared to what we’re used to

Well, then, I’ll make sure you get the royal treatment

Nessa, honey, you could make a tent in the woods royal

Jesus, I can’t wait to get my hands on you

Same, kitten, fucking same 

Sam peeks around the open bathroom door, letting wet heat spill out around him and foaming at the mouth with Crest. “You done?” he mumbles.

Dean winces at his brother’s indelicacy. “Like I’m gonna start something I only have three minutes to finish, please.”

...can’t wait to get other things on you as well

Believe me when I say that I would love to continue this conversation straight up until and including when I finally lay eyes on you, but Sammy’s outta the shower and being a little bitch, so I better go

😆😆😆

(Sorry about the little bitch comment)

Don’t apologize, he’s your brother, I’m sure you’ve called him worse

Dean doesn’t give that assumption any real recognition, but she’s right.

Goodnight, pretty girl. See you tomorrow afternoon.

Night, Dean 💋

Despite Sam’s grumpiness and the utter lack of even a whiff of Amara, Dean sleeps well. He wakes up Friday morning in plenty of time to shower and find a barber.

“A barber. Dean, when was the last time you went to a barber?”

“About two months ago, Sam. Look at yourself in the mirror and then look at me. Outta the two of us, I’m the one Most Likely To Visit A Barber.”

Sam smirks like he’s got something to smirk about. “You go to a barber for that haircut?”

“Keep it to yourself, Fabio. I’m goin’ for a shave and a haircut. You should consider the same. If they shave faces at the place you go for haircuts, I dunno.”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard Dean thinks he can hear it.

One hour later, Dean’s flipping through a magazine at Joe’s Barber Shop on Fullerton Avenue in Chicago. They don’t take appointments, but he’s heard enough about Joe’s that he doesn’t mind waiting. 

Dean doesn’t usually like unfamiliar environments, but the vintage interiors, and family business, blue-collar vibe make him feel right at home. When his number’s called, he tosses the magazine to the table and walks right up to the barber.

“Welcome in, I’m Joe.”

The man’s neat beard, meticulous high and tight haircut, and detailed tattoo work give Dean a sense of confidence already.

“No way — thee Joe?”

The man chuckles as he spins the freshly cleaned chair in invitation.

“I’m Junior, my pops is Thee Joe. Take a seat.”

Dean settles into the old-fashioned barber chair in awe. 

“What’re you in for today?”

“Well, I got a hot date this weekend. I could go for a real old school shave and one of those high and tights like you got goin’ on there.”

Joe Jr. nods and sets about gathering his tools. “You got it, my friend.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dean raps three times on the hotel door before stepping back, squaring his hips and shoulders, and letting the smirk he knows she loves settle onto his lips. The door swings open to reveal Vanessa, barefoot in a bathrobe, face made up, and hair in massive pink hair rollers.

“Dean...” she breathes. Her wide, bright eyes rake over him. “God, you look- I look... ugh, sorry.” 

Dean grins, reaching for her and closing the gap between them. “What’re you sorry about?” 

He slips his free arm around her waist and dips in to kiss her where they stand in the doorway. Vanessa melts against him, one hand on his chest and the other sliding up to brush her fingertips over the freshly shaved sides of his head. Her hand dances around the warm velvet of his skull and down his nape, making Dean groan into her mouth. 

He wants to drag her to a broom closet or bed. Instead, he breaks the kiss without pulling away.  

“We need to do a lot more of that this weekend.” He grins down at her, attempting to kiss her again when a pretty blonde woman appears in their periphery.

“Hey.” She smiles and raises a hand in a half-wave, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her jade eyes.

“Oh, hey.” Vanessa wiggles out of Dean’s embrace, patting her rollers and sliding a hand into one of his. “Em, this Dean, and-” She pauses and peeks around Dean at the man standing in the hall. “Sam, I assume?”

Sam grins and mirrors Emma’s small wave. “That’s me. Thank you both for the invitation. Should be a really nice weekend.”

Emma’s smile floats up to her eyes this time. Dean remembers what Vanessa said about Emma’s ex-boyfriend and thinks the guy must be a real idiot. He doesn’t say that out loud, though.

“It’s gonna be a great weekend.” He winks at Emma before glancing back down at Vanessa. “You look beautiful.”

Vanessa blushes and bites her lip as she rises on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “So do you,” she whispers.

“Well, come on in, you guys.” Emma motions to the living area. “We’ll show you around.”

Vanessa pulls Dean inside, not that he resists, and Sam follows. 

“There’s a kitchen and a little dining table, and we got the adjoining King room today, which Van’s already called dibs on.” She rounds the kitchen island and opens the small fridge. “Anybody want a beer?”

Vanessa and the brothers accept Emma’s offer, so she retrieves four bottles, quickly popping the caps off each as Dean and Sam drape their bags over the back of the couch. She joins them in the living area and hands a beer to each of them before raising her bottle in a toast.

“Thank you, Sam and Dean, for coming this weekend. I know Van told you about my ex-boyfriend,” she pauses and rolls her eyes, “so I appreciate you being such good sports about it as well.” 

Vanessa, Dean, and Sam raise their bottles so the four of them can toast. After a long first sip, Dean speaks up. “Well, we needed a break, the pleasure’s all ours.”

Emma seems to appreciate that sentiment. She turns to Sam with a mischievous smile. “I know we don’t know each other at all, but you are very good-looking, and I already dig your vibe, so... whatever happens, happens. Cool?”

Sam laughs out loud and nods, toasting with Emma again as he turns toward her, practically shutting Dean and Vanessa out. But they don't even notice; .

Behind closed doors, Dean makes quick work of hanging his garment bag and dropping his duffle on the luggage rack. 

“Any special requests for the weekend?” 

When he turns from the closet, he finds Vanessa in the middle of the room — her hair is still in rollers, but the robe is long gone. She’s slipped into a pair of strappy black heels and nothing else. 

“Requests?” she asks as she saunters toward him, bronzed and glowing.

Dean licks his bottom lip in between his teeth and bites down as he slides his hands into the pockets of his oxblood dress pants.

“Last time you wanted me to make a scene,” he says, recalling her succinct proposition.

“I’ll get you drunk and fed... and suck your cock. On one condition.” “And what’s that?” “Give ‘em something to remember me by, and maybe I’ll never be asked back again.”

Vanessa thoughtfully halts when the toes of her Steve Maddens are touching Dean’s shiny, black dress shoes. 

“Ohh, right!” She plays like she forgot. “How could I forget?”

Dean pokes his tongue inside his cheek and nods, narrowing his eyes. “And I seem to remember somethin’ about wantin’ to feel me for days afterward.”

“How many days?”  “Oh, I dunno... Six or seven?”

Vanessa reaches out to brush a hand across one shoulder of his black button-up and then down to hook her fingers in his waistband. “And you didn’t disappoint.”

Dean groans, reaching out to gently grip her hips. “C’mon, kitten, tell me what you want.”

She closes her eyes and lets him press his lips to her throat and collarbone. He slides his hands from her hips up the curve of her waist and grips her ribcage, teasing the soft underside of her breasts with his thumbs.

“Anything you want,” he whispers in her ear before scraping its shell between his teeth.

Vanessa releases a shaking exhale, and her throat convulses as she swallows the saliva pooling in her mouth. 

“We’re supposed to be downstairs in 15 minutes...”

He hums and brushes his lips along her jaw and thumbs up and across her tight nipples.

“But... I only need five to finish my hair.”

“Mhmm.” Dean dips in to capture one nipple between his lips, then the other.

Vanessa cradles the back of his neck and hangs her head back. “What can you do in 10 minutes without getting all wrinkly?”

Dean chuckles. “Honey, I can do a lot in 10 minutes. But, uhh,” he pauses and glances around the room. Then he grins. “C’mere.”

He leads her across the room, walking backward as his eyes roam every inch of bare, silky skin. When he reaches their destination, he pats her hip. “Hop up.”

She giggles, and he helps her to sit on the desk. 

“Now, stay right there.” He leans in and kisses her mouth as he sinks into the desk chair. He cups her calves in his hands to tuck her knees and heeled feet at his sides. 

Once he’s in position, he peeks at his watch. “Eight minutes,” he mutters, then kisses and nips his way down her body. He sighs at the apex of her thighs and barely suppresses a little groan before pressing a kiss to her glistening pussy lips. 

Vanessa gasps at the sight and grips the top tuft of his hair. “I’m such a mess... all I could think about the last two days was this.” Her breath hitches.

“Me too,” Dean murmurs, wrapping an arm around her hips and bringing his other hand in to spread her lips open. He gently sucks her clit, blows it a kiss, and lightly massages it in a light circular motion.

“Nessa, honey, you taste so good.” He dips his tongue inside her and sucks her smooth lips. “So sweet and tangy.”

He slips his long middle finger inside her, then purposefully anchors it with her g-spot. He presses against it and rotates the position of the wide pad of his finger right there — no slide, just manipulation and gentle pressure. 

“You look so hot, Dean…” She peers down at him, his mouth and hand shining with her slick juices and his spit.

Dean grins and licks her. He sucks the fleshiest parts of her between his lips as his thumb swipes across and back, hovering, barely kissing her clit, and she bucks against his face, twisting his hair in her hand.

“This fucking haircut… and your hands and mouth on me… I’m gonna come right now.”

Dean moans against her, thumbing the side of her clit as she starts to throb around his finger. As she catches her breath, he kisses the insides of her thighs until she tugs him up to stand. 

“Inside, Dean, please.” She yanks at his belt and pants, and Dean wipes his mouth, letting her have her way. 

“God, your dick is beautiful.” Vanessa wraps her hand around him as Dean tilts her head back to kiss her neck and breasts. He swears and plants a fist on the desk beside her hip when she gets him notched inside. 

“Oh, fucking…” Vanessa braces her hands behind her and lifts her feet to position her heels on the edge of the desk. “Fuck me.”

Dean braces one hand on the mirror behind her and wraps a arm around her waist, grits his teeth, and does exactly as she requested. 

xoxoxoxoxox

“Part of me’s disappointed you’re not in jeans and a henley,” Vanessa speculates as she puts the finishing touches on her hair. 

Dean arches a brow at her in the mirror as he dries his face with a hand towel. “If I’d known that”-

“But,” she pauses, pointedly reapplying her lipstick. “This is even better. You and your brother are gonna be the hottest guys there.”

Dean smirks back at her. “Wait’ll you see me in a suit.”

Vanessa turns to face him, capping her lipstick. “Thank you again for coming.” 

There’s something in her eyes that Dean can’t quite define, and it makes his heart skip. He holds her gaze as he offers her his elbow. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, kitten.”  

Vanessa accepts his offer, and they exit the bedroom to join Emma and Sam before heading down to the rehearsal.

Part Two

Tell me what you liked the best about this or ask me a question!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[tosxah]

quotes that broke me starters

@nagareboshiko asked: ❛   it’s strange, I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.  ❜ a whisper by the fire, a weigh on her stomach she struggles to carry now.

She was cold and direct. In a way, those could be charming qualities, but- like the beauty of snow- that too could lead to frost bite. How cruel, he thought, that he should be the one to carry that burden and not her. "I could say the same about you." but the words felt untrue, because it wasn't quite the truth. He longed for her company and felt his chest swell when he got to be in it, he knew that he had gained something from the feeling of absence rather than lost. So yes- in part he had felt less lonely when he hadn't known her, but only because with hind sight he knows he had one less thing to look forward too. Why couldn't she see that? Why must she sabotage them like that? Whatever they might be... He could always feel the distance she kept between them, like he was a poorly kept secret or, worse, like he was just a passing moment for her, a stone skimmed on a pond; the stone will sink, the ripples will fade... a moment of blissful happiness reset to nothing, the pond like before. Is that what she wanted from him? Was that all he was to her?

Childe reached for a blanket near by, being sat by a fire was all well and good but sitting on the floor was possibly counter productive. He wrapped it around her shoulders, making sure her bare skin was covered as best he could. "You always do this." His words were soft and earnest, not a hint of anger, more tired than anything (and it took a lot to tire him out). For some reason, he felt like he was caring for a wounded animal that kept running into a thorned thicket, unable to learn it's lesson. He turned his gaze to the fire in front of them, watching the flicker of the flames, the dance of the embers, "I'm not wise enough about the world or it's people to peer into the hearts of others, it's not a skill I've needed." in some cases it probably would have proved to be a detriment, "But I've fought against you enough to know when you attack, when you defend, when you throw a trick shot, when you think you're about to best me." He chucked softly, his gaze drifting to way the wood crackled, bursting as the fire ate it. "But you always throw me for a loop when you do this, when you manage to find a way to throw me into a wall like I weigh nothing." He tried to think about his next words carefully, pausing as he listened to the sounds around him; the fire, the wind, his heart beat. "You know me now. Why can't that be enough for you?" He still wasn't angry, mostly he was numb. They had danced this dance so many times he knew each step, each dip, each turn and even each breath they would have to take to get to the end of this song. But the needle would reset, and they would be righ back here all over again.