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werewolfpropaganda · 4 years ago

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Sébastien - Male Werewolf x Male Reader

not sfw. 4886 words. you meet and fall in love with werewolf and busker, sébastien.

You missed seeing the stars.

You missed seeing the stars deeply — a horribly indescribable feeling you felt deep in your core everytime you looked up at the night sky — because Manhattan had no stars. It hadn’t had stars for a long time, and it probably never would.

Growing up in rural suburbia had few pluses, but at the very least there was space. Between the lack of restaurants, idealistic white picket fences, and families with two-and-a-half children, there were glimpses of beauty: picturesque forests, a wide open sky, and the stars. You used to go stargazing just about every week with your father well into adolescence (and partly into adulthood), until he died and left you with this mess. You moved to the city, and, well, here you are.

You looked out onto your balcony. It would have been a good spot for stargazing. Only 22 and you were living the American Dream: renting an apartment with an okay view of the adjacent building and a shittily constructed fire escape. You felt like it could collapse at any moment and you would get to recreate “Fire on Marlborough Street.” Truly the American Dream.

It was time for your daily walk. Despite the fact that you lived in Manhattan, you never left your apartment except for work and this walk. You had no real friends and Upper Manhattan was basically just banks and pharmacies, anyway.

You lived within walking distance of the park, so your routine was partially through there. You put on a jacket and left, not completely sure that you locked the door.

There was a guy playing the violin about six feet from where you were sitting, and he looked to be about your age. He was really good at what he did, playing a song that sounded nothing like the Suzuki viola books you played from as a child. You never learned the names of any classical composers so you guessed. Debussy? Bach? Vivaldi? Who knows?

He had an open case next to his boots, with about 20 dollars in various amounts. There was also a small card linking to his social media. You pulled up his Instagram, and, well, you hated to admit it, but he was really attractive. In all the pictures, his hair was styled into a wavy bun, although in real life his hair was down. He was currently wearing a bomber jacket and black jeans, and he was fit. Not fit enough to be gross, but in a casual way where you pretend to not care about how you look but you really do.

You dropped five bucks into his case. He looked at you and smiled a cute smile. You smiled back, and then tried to hide it by speaking. “That’s so beautiful. How long have you been playing the violin?” you asked.

“This is a viola,” He stated back, ceasing the music and holding his viola out. He ran his hand down the back of it like that meant anything to you.

“Shit,” You recalled when you played viola as a teenager. Anger was the only emotion you could feel when people called the instrument the wrong name, even though it was a pretty benign mistake. For a split second, you considered telling this to him, but doing that felt like it would make the situation about you and, subsequently, worse. You decided on a simple: “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, you’re fine, darling,” He responded warmly. No one had called you a pet name in a long time. “Most people don’t apologize. Some people argue with me, as if, no, Sébastien, you’ve lost it and you’re actually playing a violin,” You laughed. “I’m Sébastien, by the way.”

French. That was a gross first thought you had, but he was indeed French. You told him your name.

“Oh, I love that. I’m going to apologize for snapping.”

“Sébastien, it’s so totally fine. I know the feeling of people assuming the instrument you play,” Apparently you were going to tell him. Okay.

“I must say, it’s always violinists,” Sébastien said.

“Oh my god, I so fucking know!” You unconsciously stamped your feet into the dirt to let out the emotion you were feeling.

“I hate violinists.”

“Hate ‘em. So stuck up.”

“I know. I actually used to play the violin religiously, but then my teacher told me I would have better luck finding a job if I played viola because there were so many violinists. Guess what, I can’t get an orchestral job anyway,” You both laughed. “I do think viola jokes are funny though.”

“Wait,” You said with a bit too much excitement. “What's the difference between a viola and a coffin?”

You could tell Sébastien knew the joke about halfway through, because he smiled and tried to hide it. “The coffin has the dead person on the inside. I love that one.” He laughed.

You talked for what felt like an hour — about your musical experiences and upbringings and hobbies and pretty much everything — although it was realistically a lot longer. Sébastien was born in France and moved here when he was young, and has been trying to do music ever since. It was still midday when you went out to walk and it was dark now. You stared at him illuminated by a streetlight that didn’t particularly flatter his face, but he still looked good.

“Would you…” Sébastien hesitated and spoke quietly. “Would you want to get coffee with me?”

You smiled. “Hell yes, dude!” Your mind flooded with first date spots. “There’s this really cute place by my apartment we can stop by now and then we could probably go starga-” You abruptly stopped and looked at him. Sébastien’s lips were pursed. Fuck. There aren’t any stars in Manhattan.

“Sure, darling!” He got down and put the money from his case into his bag. He started to put his viola away. “I’ve been busking for a while now and believe it or not fingerless gloves don’t warm you up all that much.” Sébastien paused. “Although maybe no stargazing.”

You felt the smile on your face start to lower. You hadn’t even noticed you were smiling until now. “Not even for the fuck of looking at an empty night sky except for the moon and the beeps of a satellite?”

“It’s like a metaphor.” He picked the case up and looked up at the sky for slightly too long. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it.” He’s a murderer. He’s already murdered you and you’re a ghost. This is the afterlife: talking to a conventionally attractive viola player.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“I’m a werewolf.” He didn’t necessarily look ashamed but you could tell he wasn’t exactly confident in what he was saying.

You had never actually met a werewolf, because the suburbs had no diversity and you never left your apartment. You actually did quite like werewolf porn, but admitting that you had both never seen a werewolf in real life and fetishized their existence would make you look really weird. “Nice.” You were excited.

You had been seeing Sébastien for about a week now, and were about to go through with your promise of coffee and shitty stargazing. The coffee place had been closed the first time because it was too late, so you tried again earlier. You deliberately planned this for the full moon, and, although you told yourself you wanted to feel guilty about setting up the date for werewolf sex, you didn’t. You could feel guilty after he pumped his jizz into you for the first time.

“Hey, Yasmeen,” you said. “I love your new hijab.” You really did. Yasmeen’s hijab was eggshell white with small gold stars.

“Thanks, love. You’re paying for it. Literally. You’re buying my coffee and thus paying my salary.” She chuckled and motioned to Sébastien. “Who’s the piece of ass?”

“Aren’t you in a relationship? And gay?”

“I’m like an illiterate nun, love.”

“Right…?”

“I can look at the menu, I just can’t order.”

“God, Yasmeen.” She laughed at herself again. “Anyway, I’ll have a black coffee and one of those stupid little sandwiches, and Sébastien’s gonna have a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Sébastien? French.”

“I know, right?” You said this a little bit louder than you should have.

“He has some audacity asking for a pumpkin spice latte in early January, especially since this isn’t a Starbucks.”

“Just make it for him.”

“Alright, love.” She put her hands up to indicate innocence. “You’re not normally this snappy.”

“He’s hot. And interesting.”

“Fair enough.” Yasmeen got to work making your drinks, and you sat down across from Sébastien. It was a communal style table, which felt strange for such a small place, and the lighting was slightly too yellow to be flattering. You and Sébastien were probably the last customers. He was typing into a document when you sat down, and promptly put his phone away.

“Do you know them?” Sébastien asked.

“Yeah, actually,” you responded. “Yasmeen used to live in the apartment above me and we met like it was La Bohème. I actually used to call her Mimi until she eventually told me she didn’t like it.”

“Huh. Did she need to light a candle?”

“You know it.”

Sébastien gazed down to your chest for a second, before reinstating eye contact. “Wait, am I just being used as cannon fodder to boost the popularity of your friend’s cafe? Do you take men and force them to pay 10 dollars for coffee and a sandwich? Daily? Shame, darling, shame.”

“You aren’t the first man to realize that, Sébastien, although you are the first man to realize that on the third date.”

“And you just tell them when they find out? You must get a lot of wrong numbers.” He laughed a gross laugh — hearty, somehow accented with French, and you felt the vibrations of it just by touching the table — but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Yasmeen walked over. “Here is your black coffee,” She said, placing the drinks down. “And here’s your pumpkin latte, love. The sandwich will be out in a bit.” Sébastien looked at you with an empty, but seemingly loving stare, his lips pursed, before turning and thanking Yasmeen. Yasmeen walked away mouthing something to you. You assumed this was her approval, but assuming doesn’t get anyone anywhere.

“Thank you so much for ordering the coffee, darling,” he said with a smile. The way he said “darling” felt less like a filler pet name tacked on at the end of the sentence and more like a deliberate choice.

“Hell yeah, dude! It’s payback for the photos you sent me. Also because I love you.” Sébastien had sent you a few pictures of him in his werewolf form before your date with the attached message “I love you!!” That was the first love confession you had received in a while. He used more exclamation marks then you expected, but it was really cute.

The first thing you noticed when you opened the picture was his sense of aesthetic — sensible, if not a bit too minimalist. The second thing you noticed were his eyes, which were far more yellow than his human form. His fangs protruded out far further than most of the werewolves you’ve seen, his fur was mostly gray except for his white chest and tummy, and he was fluffy as shit. The only thing he didn’t show you was his cock, which you asked him to save for today.

“I love you too,” he said in a soft and light tone, which made you feel one too many emotions.

“I swear,” You said with a whisper and a lack of inhibition. “When I got to the last photo, the mirror selfie, I literally had to put my phone down because I was just like… that’s so hot.” He was wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that didn’t do a great job of hiding his erection in the photo. “I saw your bed in the background and it shocked me how huge you were compared to it.”

“I’m not actually that tall in werewolf form, despite being 6 foot in real life. Most werewolves are, say, a foot larger.”

“Really?”

“I… I feel like that’s kinda common knowledge.”

You took a sip of your coffee. It was disgusting. You erred on the side of caution as you said: “What do you mean?”

“Have… have you never seen a werewolf before?”

You laughed, not because anything was particularly funny, or awkward, or even to relieve anxiety. You just laughed to have the noise out there. “Um..”

“Oh, God.”

“No.”

“WHAT.” Sébastien laughed, not deliriously or angrily but in pity. That isn’t what you were expecting. “How have you not… you did go to a shitty public school, huh?”

You were drinking coffee just to do something, and took a large gulp before speaking again. “I will not blame my upbringing on my ignorance, but yes.”

“Question, when do werewolves come out?”

“The full moon.”

“Really, darling?” He pitied you. “Were you born in the 1800s? How much funding did your health class get?”

“I didn’t have a health class.”

“Okay…” He rubbed his temples light-heartedly, you hoped. “Do you know what a period is?”

“Like… blood?”

“No, a werewolf period.”

“Explain.”

“This is common knowledge. This is what you learn when the kid you’re babysitting turns into a werewolf and you don’t realize so you call the hospital.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my duty to explain this to you. Your information about what werewolves are is really wrong. You’re getting it from, like… fringe articles about the Dendera light bulb. People become werewolves for a few days a month.”

“Okay…?”

“Like a period cycle.”

You smiled, because you found a way to turn your anti-werewolf slight into horrible flirting. “I don’t think I understand. I might need hands-on experience. With a werewolf.”

Sébastien raised one eyebrow. “...Oh, thank fucking god, you’re just flirting.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll show you, darling. I’ll do anything if you don’t scare me like that again.”

The full moon was going to come out, but it’s not like that mattered, because apparently werewolves aren’t controlled by the moon. Okay. Whatever. The sky had nothing else to offer you, anyway.

Sébastien put his viola case at the base of your bed and sat down. “I love your place, by the way,” he said. “You have a fire escape?”

“Those things are death traps,” you responded, laughing and putting your black coffee in the fridge. You would never end up drinking it and only through it out 2 months later to make place for Thai food. “I’m way too anxious about it to step on it.”

“You’re not that high up,” Sébastien said with an abrupt pause. He pursed his lips. “Not suggesting you risk your safety if you don’t want to. Just-”

“Nah, I get you.” You sat down next to him and took his hand. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” He breathed in a breath deeper than necessary, and stared at the ground. Uh-oh. “...Are we a thing, darling?”

“We’re multiple things: Human beings. Lovers. A French violist werewolf and a poor 1893 poet.” Sébastien glanced at you with an empty stare. “Hell yeah!”

“Nice.”

“Just gotta consummate it first,” you said.

“You’re a loser, darling.”

“Are we not gonna consummate it?”

“No, we will, you’re just a loser that’s bad at flirting.”

“I’ll take it.”

“That’s not the only thing you’ll take.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Sébastien fell backwards onto the bed with his wonderful, beautiful, gross laugh, feet slightly dangled off. His tank top rose slightly and exposed his navel. “Alright, let me get these off and you can climb on, darling.” Sébastien put his thumbs into the hem of his sweatpants and pulled them to his feet. You were sad to see them go because they did particularly flatter him, but this sadness was replaced with a fluster when you saw his thighs.

His hips protruded out from his midriff with a strong curve, and his thighs were massive. Sébastien’s thigh and calf muscles were defined in a natural way, from time spent outside and on his feet. Almost his entire thigh was exposed by the short, black briefs he was wearing, and he had a nice amount of hair which grew in thickness as it got closer to the inner of his thigh. You could imagine the feeling of running your hands against it, and it was pure bliss. His bulge was nice and hefty and you just wanted to shove your face into it.

“Alright!” He said. You moved and adjusted yourself to be sitting on his thighs. This was the highest above him you had actually ever been, and you briefly pondered what you looked like from his perspective.

You reached to grab his hand, but before you could he had already taken your hand and placed it underneath his bulge. You lifted your hand and felt his balls as if trying to determine the weight of a bag of fruit, which was a weird comparison but was also the only thought in your head the entire time, besides: “fuck me.”

“You like that, huh?”

“It’s like I’m at a farmer’s market,” you said without thinking. He laughed.

“Oh, shut up. You are SUCH a loser.”

He placed his right hand onto the small of your back. You could feel his cock harden in your hand, the tip underneath his balls and lying against your palm. His cock began to stretch out the fabric of his underwear. He began to grind his dick against your hand and it grew even more, to what you estimated to be about eight inches. “Good. Good, good boy,” he said with a gruff voice.

Sébastien fixated his eyes onto yours and used his free hand to pull your head closer to his. “Wait,” he said. You felt Sébastien’s body stiffen and his grinding stop. “Oh, god, this is such a stereotype.”

You snorted. “What’s happening, dude?”

“I’m transforming.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I swear to God, darling, most werewolves don’t transform on the full moon. My cycle just happened to line up with it.” “I trust you, dude,” you responded back.

Sébastien smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. You closed your eyes and let him do his job. He pushed you down into the bed and climbed on top of you, maintaining a kiss the whole time. You put your hand down the back of his tank top and stroked, feeling the fur of a wolf grow in at a rapid pace. Your heart fluttered and you were almost too in awe of what you were feeling to do anything. It was soft and lovely to touch.

You felt the lips you were kissing become more furry and his tongue longer. His fangs grew in and pushed against the meat of your mouth, which was a foreign, but not painful experience. It became less kissing and more him licking at your mouth and face with a strong passion. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt for him right now. A mixture of both of your spits ran down your face, and you could feel a cock far different from the one you felt before hitting against your midriff.

Opening your eyes, you saw a werewolf before you. He was much, much larger than you expected, and you didn’t just want to be fucked by this creature, but rather straddled and used as his personal cum dump. Sébastien pulled away from the kiss and you caught a glimpse of his dick, bright red and huge. Just one sight of his knot made you want to scream.

“How am I?” he said with a gross amount of confidence.

“Sébastien, fuck me.”

He was moving his ass left and right and his cock followed, the tip running against your midriff. His tail was straight in the air, although from where you were you could only see the tip of it. He took his hand, or rather, at this point, paw, and began to unbuckle your belt, careful to not destroy any fabric with his claws. He took your jeans and underwear off with one motion.

You could see his intentions without thought. The tip of his cock was leaking a clear fluid and already at the base of your asshole, just begging to push in and destroy you.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You did NOT lube me up, dude.”

“I- Well.” He stuck his tongue out, and it reached far further down than you expected. “Fine.” He bent down and licked your hole vigorously, lapping in and out as if he were drinking water from a bowl. Sébastien made a mess of spit down there, and you were ready.

The noise you made as he pushed his cock into you was both disgusting and ungodly.

“Are you-”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He barked, and somehow there was a tinge of French in it. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Or what?”

Sébastien responded by pushing his cock a few inches further into you, stretching you out even further and rendering you unable to speak. He licked your nose and woofed. “Good boy.”

Sébastien went at you for the next few minutes, grunting the whole time. He held you down into the bed with his paws and pushed his doggy cock in and out of you, in and out, in and out. You could feel his knot slam against the base of your asshole, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take it.

His pace quickened and his grunts started to turn into whimpers — desperate whimpers. He needed to dump his load into you and it needed to happen now. Your entire body had turned to nothing and you wouldn’t be able to move for the next several days, but you tried gripping the bed sheets anyway. It didn’t work.

You heard him howl and you felt his cum enter you. The neighbors would not like that.

He knotted you and you saw stars. Not in a positive sense, though. You didn’t see the literal stars you saw stargazing growing up, the stars that Manhattan didn’t have and that you so desperately wanted to see. You didn’t see Sirius, or Proxima Centauri, or the Pisces constellation. What you did see was your vision clouding from the pleasure of feeling his jizz fill you, the pain of his knot, and every other emotion humanly imaginable before you passed out.

You woke up to a tap from a claw and the horrible sensation of Sébastien pulling himself out of you. “Dklfhsdkfshj,” Sébastien said.

“What?” you responded.

“DKLFHSDKFSHJ.” Sure. Whatever. You were barely awake and didn’t care, and somehow managed to take a pillow and bury your face in it. You could feel a wetness on the inner parts of your thighs and the bedsheets below you, as well as your own on your stomach.

Sébastien took a fabric you were decently sure was his tank top and wiped up the seed he had left on you. It felt good, being pampered. Just the sensation of the touch of a human, or werewolf for that matter, could send you into a frenzy, so you were living the dream right now.

Sébastien reached over and took the pillow off of your face. “Oh, you did such a good job, darling. You’re such a good boy.”

You groggily smiled. The sun was just about to set and the lighting was actually beautiful for once in your life. An orange and pink glow emanated from Sébastien’s fur. He was still naked, although substantially less horny. The fur on his chest was so thick and furry that you just wanted to shove your face into it.

More of his nut left your body and he quickly wiped it up. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s not going to be fun.”

“How… how much did you...” you tried to ask.

“I’ve been pent up, alright?”

“I can tell.”

“Do you happen to have some spare… like… everything in my size?”

“You don’t prepare for changing size as a werewolf?”

“I wear elastic clothing before I become a werewolf, because I’m not a loser. Like you.”

“Hey.”

“I mean like underwear. And a tank top.”

“You just came so much, huh?”

“Do you want to have to wear clothes covered in massive amounts of dried wolf nut?”

“Fair point.”

You moved your hands to prop your body up, and while you expected to have a difficult time getting up you didn’t expect to yell from the pain.

“Sorry.” Sébastien pretended to be humble.

“You’re proud of this.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I know.”

Sébastien wrapped the blanket around you and adjusted you upright. You touched your hand to the bottom of his muzzle, pulled him in, and kissed him.

“I’m going to reheat my coffee from earlier. You want yours, darling?”

“No thanks.”

Sébastien bent over to take his coffee from the fridge, and the one benefit of living in a studio apartment was that you could see his ass as he did it. You couldn’t tell if he was deliberately moving in a promiscuous manner, but the sight of the lighter fur below his tail was wonderful. He put the coffee in the microwave and leaned against the counter, and for the first time you saw just how big he was. Sébastien crossed his arms and stared wistfully at you.

After a moment with only the sound of the microwave, he spoke. “Y’know what, darling, let’s go sit on the fire escape.”

“It’s almost dark. And it’s cold.”

“We can watch the moon come out, and I’m a giant fluffy werewolf if you don’t remember. We can take the blanket out if you want.”

“Oh, god, Sébastien, that would be so nice.”

Sébastien took his coffee out the microwave and picked you up, the blanket wrapped around you, and carried you over to the window. You were surprised by how easy this was for him, considering he was holding a hot coffee as well.

“You’re not even gonna cover your ass?” you asked.

“You’ll be covering up anything I can’t show to the public.”

“What if the people below us decide to have a nice, romantic evening on their fire escape, and they look up and see giant wolf butt?”

“If anything, that would be even more romantic.” You both laughed. “Fine.” He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

Sébastien opened the window and you felt a cold rush of air on your face. He climbed out, carrying both you and his coffee, and sat down on the ledge. You sat on his lap and could feel his soft member against you, although you definitely were not in the mood to take it. You told yourself you wouldn’t be able to take anybody ever again, although you knew that was a lie. Sébastien wrapped his arms around you, and you felt warmth everywhere except for your face. He put his paw onto the top of your head and started to pet.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked. You could feel his bottom jaw hit the top of your head as he spoke.

“Nope!” You marveled at the sky in front of you. It was vast and empty except for the tops of buildings, and the sun was just about to go down. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the environment and general feeling of love.

Sébastien moved his paw from your head to your thigh, and continued petting. You broke the silence.

“Teach me some French.”

“In school, you’d start with the pronouns, so, I guess, ‘Je’ means ‘I.’ ‘Je.’” He said ‘Je’ with such a strong intent.

“No,” You laughed. “I mean like romantic things.”

“You don’t know ‘I love you’ already? ‘Je t’aime’?

“Je t’aime.” You spoke. You somehow couldn’t pronounce it correctly. “Je t’aime.”

“I love you too, darling, but the vowel in ‘Je’ is a schwa.” He demonstrated. You tried again and still pronounced it wrong. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You laughed and stroked your hand against his thigh, just to get to feel his fur even more. You felt him press his chest into your back.

Sébastien woofed a small woof and then you returned to your comfortable silence, watching the sun fall beneath the horizon. You realized you wouldn’t actually be able to see the moon rise if you were currently watching the sun set, but you didn’t want to say this out loud and break the atmosphere.

“I just realized we’re not gonna be able to see the moon.” Thank god Sébastien said it before you did.

“Hm.” You pushed your head back to be closer to Sébastien. He wrapped his arms around your chest.

“We can still look at the sky, even if it isn’t stargazing, per se.” He adjusted you slightly. “Like, look at the beep of the light on top of that tower. It’s beautiful in it’s own way.” “Yeah.” It really was. You smiled, overwhelmed by everything that was happening. “I love you.” “I love you too, darling.”

#exophilia #werewolf #werewolves #mlm #if u think u've seen this before #you probably have #i posted this here before but i lost the account #so im reposting it #6 months later

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girlsbtrs · 3 years ago

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My Senior Soundtrack - Playlist

Written by Jen Moglia. Graphic by Allison Thompson.

At the end of this month, I’ll finally be graduating high school. Typing that sentence definitely felt surreal.

Years and years of hard work and stress, with some not-so-bad times mixed in, will culminate in the moment I’ve been waiting for for as long as I can remember. I had been told countless times that senior year would be easy and that high school would consist of the best years of my life, and while I did enjoy a lot of it, there were also some incredibly difficult times, especially this year.

What follows is a list of songs that got me through some of those darker moments. I hope that they can be there for you too.

“Roses” - Watsky

Favorite Lyric: “Leaving is supposed to be hard / Man, I thought it so was selfish of people I love to keep falling out of my life / But now I know / No, I don't take it personal”

This was a song that I connected with a lot when making decisions for college - did I want to move away and start a new adventure on my own, or did I want to stay home with all the people and places that I knew and loved? Listening to these lyrics helped me feel better about my decision to move away for school, learning that I wasn’t selfish for wanting to start fresh.

“Never Grow Up” - Taylor Swift

Favorite Lyric: “And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots / But don't make her drop you off around the block / Remember that she's gettin' older too / And don't lose the way that you dance / Around in your PJs getting ready for school”

Taylor Swift is one of my favorite artists of all time, and this song has been hitting particularly hard for me lately. For as much as I can’t wait to start this next chapter of my life, there’s so much about home and my family that I’ll miss more than they will ever know.

“Boston” - Augustana

Favorite Lyric: “She said ‘I think I'll go to Boston / I think I'll start a new life / I think I'll start it over / Where no one knows my name’”

Augustana’s most popular song, I listened to this track a ton when I was first starting high school, dreaming of running away someday. The fact that that day is almost here is crazy to me.

“Swim” - Jack’s Mannequin

Favorite Lyric: “You gotta swim, swim in the dark / There's no shame in drifting / Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark / Yeah, you gotta swim, don't let yourself sink / Just find the horizon / I promise you, it's not as far as you think”

Another song that I loved in my late middle school/early high school years, this band and all of Andrew McMahon’s projects in general have been staples in my Spotify library for years. This track in particular served as motivation for me to keep going during hard times.

“North Hansen” - Bearings

Favorite Lyric: “I've got dreams, I've got needs / I've got things I believe / That I just can not let go / I still, think about you every single day / I still miss that old North Hansen Home / Sometimes I wanna go home / All I'm saying is the ending scares me every time / Your words replaying / Over and over I save them in my mind / Now I'm grabbing a hold / Of what's about to unfold”

On the flip side, Bearings has been a huge part of the last few years of my high school experience; their 2019 tour with Grayscale, Belmont, and Rich People was the first tour I ever did multiple dates of, and those days and nights I spent traveling and singing my heart out truly changed my life. I leaned on this band’s entire discography during my junior and senior year, but this song specifically reminded me that it’s okay to be scared of leaving home as the future approaches.

“Ribs” - Lorde

Favorite Lyric: “This dream isn't feeling sweet / We're reeling through the midnight streets / And I've never felt more alone / It feels so scary getting old / I want 'em back / The minds we had / How all the thoughts / Moved 'round our heads”

How could I make a “coming of age” playlist without this song on it? Lorde has been a big part of my life for a while now - her hit song “Royals” was the ringtone on my first Smartphone in fifth grade, and I saw her live for the first time on the night before my 15th birthday on her Melodrama World Tour in Brooklyn, New York. Much like the last song, this track perfectly captures the fear of the future and getting older.

“Atlantic” - Grayscale

Favorite Lyric: “This place feels more and more like nowhere to me / I'm sick of waiting for a fire to ignite / I could just leave here without a goodbye / I'll burn down this bridge / And set my life up in smoke...I want to go / Run from this panic / I need the unknown”

As I mentioned earlier, attending four dates of Grayscale’s Nella Vita Part One Tour and six dates of the album cycle in total (bringing me to a grand total of ten times seeing this band) was a formative experience for me. Getting to end every night screaming the lyrics to this song, once again, dreaming of starting a new life as soon as I could, was cathartic.

“City Lights” - Emblem 3

Favorite Lyric: “Caught up in those pretty city lights / Wishing on a star for your direction / Thinking of a new and different life / Babe, I know this one ain't what you've been dreaming”

I choreographed my “senior solo” in my dance class to this song, one of my favorites for many years. Although I have a feeling it’s about someone moving thousands of miles away to chase dreams of stardom rather than moving two hours away to attend college, it certainly served as a source of comfort for me.

“Play” - Rich People

Favorite Lyric: “Because I know I'm beautiful enough / For someone to love / I don't know many things / But I feel everything / And I'm just too young to give up”

Rich People is my favorite band of all time, which you probably already know if you follow me on social media, and getting to watch them perform and connect with them was a major part of why following the Nella Vita Part One Tour was so pivotal for me. This song is my favorite off of their most recent album “Harmony”, and my graduation cap will have these lyrics in frontman Rob Rich’s handwriting on it later this month. This band and this song mean everything to me.

“Dream Envy” - Rich People

Favorite Lyric: “It's no way to live / Sitting on the fence asking myself ‘what if?’”

Another Rich People song, no surprise here, this is one of my favorites from their first release, “Jacob’s Ladder.” It reminded me that “sitting on the fence asking myself ‘what if?’”, is, indeed, no way to live, and it pushed me to make definitive decisions, leaving no stone unturned.

“Something Bigger Than This” - Trophy Eyes

Favorite Lyric: “I'm still flying through my twenties / Waiting for someone to say I made it / Golden boy, tiny paycheck / Big ideas and broken heartstrings / Waking up in the same old skin / It ain't easy to believe / We were born for something bigger than this / It don't make much sense right now / But it will all come together when the lights go out”

I saw Trophy Eyes live for the first time at the start of my sophomore year at the Stereo Garden in Patchogue, New York, leaving my last-period algebra class early to attend their show with Neck Deep, WSTR, and Stand Atlantic (sorry, Ms. Sloane). Their music has resonated deeply with me since then, and this song has especially been a huge source of motivation for me when I was feeling down about myself.

“Forevermore” - The Maine

Favorite Lyric: “Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable / Don't have to hide, don't have to fear / All you have to be is here...And I said, ‘I wanna feel like this forever’ / Even if forever's just for now / We're on fire, let us burn / As the outside world, it turns / We are here and alive / In our corner of time / Forevermore”

The Maine is another band that I feel has been here for me for as long as I can remember, remaining in my daily rotation since the summer before high school started. This song, off their most recent album “You Are OK”, has reminded me that wherever I am is exactly where I need to be at that point in time and to embrace every single moment.

“Flowers on the Grave” - The Maine

Favorite Lyric: “Feel the moment all around you / And the quiet that surrounds you / The time you have is sacred / Don't wait around and waste it / They can't take that away from you / Everything is temporary / Even the sorrow that you carry...'Cause you don't plan life, you live it / You don't take love, you give it / You can't change what is written / So when fate cries, you listen / And flowers on the grave / Of the child that I used to be”

The first time that I saw The Maine was at the New York City date of their “The Mirror” tour at Webster Hall. When they closed with this song, I was near inconsolable; my friends were practically passing me around to hug me and make sure I was alright. Similar to the last song, this track reminds me to live life to the fullest and not take anything for granted, not wasting any time mourning the past and only looking towards the future.

“Old Book” - Real Friends

Favorite Lyric: “It really weirds me out / Because I never thought I'd be where I am today...This isn’t where I want to be / Getting older scares the shit out of me”

On the topic of bands that were constants for me in my formative years, Real Friends was one of the first pop-punk bands that I truly loved. I wore a shirt with their “The Home Inside My Head” album cover on it on my first day of high school, and their 2018 show with Eat Your Heart Out, Grayscale, and Boston Manor at Irving Plaza in New York City was one of my first real general admission concerts; I don’t think I’d be where I am today if I didn’t go to that show. This song always served as a reminder that I wasn’t alone in my worries about the future, and that it would all be okay, even if I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going.

“Satellite” - Rise Against

Favorite Lyric: “We'll come clean and start over / The rest of our lives / When we're gone, we'll stay gone / Out of sight, out of mind / It's not too late, we have the rest of our lives...This is a life that you can’t deny us now”

Four years ago this week, I saw Rise Against for the first time, opening for Deftones at Jones Beach in Wantagh, New York with my dad; at the end of July, I’ll get to see them kick off their latest tour at Pier 17 in New York City with one of my best friends. If that isn’t a full-circle moment, I don’t know what is. Rise Against is one of my favorite bands of all time, and their music has always made me feel strengthened and empowered. This song specifically inspired me to reclaim my own life, not letting anyone else determine the outcome and my mindset but myself - it’s also the perfect angsty soundtrack to a fresh start.

“Something Special” - A Will Away

Favorite Lyric: “‘Pull out your clothes / You're made for something special’ / If that's what it takes to get you out of bed / You think you're meant for California / But that's just in your head / I saw you howling at the street lights / Pressed against the skin you want to shed / You tore down all the walls for answers / And found this shit instead...Don't let the poison that surrounds you / Stifle out the life you want to live / Please know it truly doesn't matter / And truly never did”

Though I’ve been listening to them since my sophomore year of high school, A Will Away is a band that I really got into this year as a senior. “Something Special” is my favorite song off of their album “Here Again”, and while I know it wasn’t written about finding friends that feel like family, rejecting negativity, and starting a new chapter, that’s certainly what it’s about for me.

“Lead Balloon” - Vanna

Favorite Lyric: “This isn't how we die / You're not reading the ending right / You are meant for greatness / Open up your eyes and face it / Now to your feet and follow me / The road is hard but you're harder / Can't you feel your heartbeat starting?...You're weak but you can feel now / Your soul slowly getting out / You are so strong / And you'll have to carry on now / Cause I know that you know how”

Vanna’s “All Hell” was an album I discovered around this time last year, and I listened to it non-stop for all of summer 2020. It became one of my favorite records ever (and not just because of the pink aesthetic, though I do appreciate the use of my favorite color). When I was struggling a lot during the first few months of the COVID-19 pandemic in more ways than I could count, this song really helped me through, these lyrics in particular. It gave me hope that I’d make it to the end of my senior year celebrating, which, thankfully, I did.

“Give Yourself A Try” - The 1975

Favorite Lyric: “Won’t you give yourself a try?”

While the lyrics of this song are a bit odd, frankly pessimistic, and hard for a teenager to relate to, its catchy, more optimistic chorus served as a mantra for me throughout my last few years of high school. If I couldn’t take a chance on myself, why would anyone else want to? This song’s refrain sparked a ton of self-love in me, and I spent many nights dancing around to it in my bedroom. Also, I couldn’t leave this band off of this list - I’ve been listening to them since their self-titled LPs came out when I was 10 years old, and the album that this song is off of, “A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships”, is one of my favorite records of all time.

“Garden Song” - Phoebe Bridgers

Favorite Lyric: “I don't know how, but I'm taller / It must be something in the water / Everything's growing in our garden...She told me my resentment's getting smaller / No, I'm not afraid of hard work / I get everything I want”

Much like A Will Away, Phoebe Bridgers is an artist that I had known of and had recommended to me for years, but I only really started listening to her as a senior in high school. ��Kyoto” and “Would You Rather” are probably my favorites by her, but this song, along with “It’ll All Work Out”, helped me through feeling scared for the future and wondering how I grew up so quickly.

“Growing Up” - The Maine

Favorite Lyric: “We'll never lose what we had...Growing up won't bring us down / Graduate, what's a kid to do now? / Get away, yeah / We've got so much to prove / 'Cause it's time to move on / And I start to let go...We're in this together / Yeah, we'll make it somehow / Nothing's gonna stop us now”

Finally, to close it out, one more song by one of my favorite bands ever, and one of the bands that carried me throughout my senior year, as well as all of my high school years. I had to include this one - my graduation pictures were captioned “graduate, what’s a kid to do now?” At its core, this is a song about holding on to childlike energy and teenage memories despite growing up and moving on. Every time I listen to it (which has been a lot, lately), I’m reminded that I have the best friends in the world who have given me some of the happiest years of my life, and that doesn’t have to end just because we’re getting older. “Growing up won’t bring us down.”

For more songs like this, you can follow my Spotify playlist titled “senioritis” here.

Congratulations to everyone who is celebrating this month, whatever you might be graduating from!

#jennifer moglia

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

Text

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Edge is tired of being in the hospital and that is a fact.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Hints of Kustard Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Hospitals

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

With the IVs and all the monitoring equipment removed, the hospital room could almost be mistaken for a hotel. The walls were painted in cozily muted shades and the landscaped paintings were generic enough to match any accommodations they’d been given on their travels, even the most prestigious. The bed was the only distinguishing feature and even it was less confronting with the railings lowered; there was less concern about him tumbling out since the decision had been made to lower Edge’s pain medication to what he still considered unreasonable levels, but far more acceptable than the quantities that left his head swimming.

Currently the bed was somewhat sloppily made and Edge was settled on top of the blankets, fully dressed with his casted foot resting atop some carefully arranged pillows. Not generally one for fidgeting, he couldn’t help drumming his fingers against the bed-covers agitatedly. Today was they day the doctors agreed for his release; all they needed now was an orderly with a wheelchair and he could be out, away from this room and the four walls he’d been staring at for days.

It was honestly starting to verge on intolerable; he had crutches, the walk down to the parking lot was a short one with elevators to ease the path. And having to be the one sitting and waiting impatiently while his spouse read the release papers was a new experience, one he would have been happy to live without.

Particularly since Stretch seemed to be taking some measure of fiendish delight in it, his eye lights bright as they skimmed over the paperwork. He held up the checklist and said cheerily, ��okay, babe, let’s go over this one more time.”

Edge sighed inwardly and nodded. He supposed he deserved this, considering how many times their positions had been reversed. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Stretch looked down the slight protuberance of his nasal aperture at the sheet, “first question; what are you supposed to do this week?”

“Keep my leg elevated,” Edge recited flatly.

“right you are!” Stretch agreed, chipper as an abnormally cruel chickadee. “and what are you supposed to do every three hours?”

“Ice my leg to keep the cartilage from swelling.”

“you’re on fire, which, coincidentally, is not what you should do with your leg. okay, last one, this is a toughie,” Stretch leaned forward and asked with great solemnness, “when are you supposed to take your pain meds?”

Edge glared at him and gritted out, “As directed.”

Stretch beamed at him, flumping back into his chair. “a+, baby, great job! aced the exam.” His humor faded, replaced by an uncommonly steely determination, “so, this is how the week is going to go, yeah? the docs are highly paid medical pros who know what’s what and we’re going to follow the directions they gave us, that they went to many, many years of school for, and everything will go according to plan.”

“I’d like to think I know my own body best,” Edge muttered under his breath. Not quietly enough, Stretch’s eye lights flickered orange and he scrambled to his feet, stalking over to the bed to poke Edge in the sternum with a blunt fingertip.

“highly. paid. pros.” Stretch said firmly. “look, either you do as the doc says, or you might get to change your power stride into a drunken sailor lurch. follow the directions or you’ll never get to face Kevin Bacon in the dance off, yeah?”

“Yes, dear,” Edge grumbled. The situation was irritating, but blaming Stretch for his worries would be more hypocritical than Edge could stomach. Before Stretch could flop back into his chair, Edge hooked an arm around him and pulled him in, ignoring his squirming protests to tug him onto the bed and into his arms, pressing a soft kiss on top of his skull. “Love, I’m all right.”

“uh huh, sure,” Stretch managed to wriggle free enough to glare at him. “if i tried any shit and my excuse was ‘i know better than people who’ve gone to medical school’, you’d have my ass.”

Which was true, but aside from the point. “I’d like to state for the record that since I was admitted, at no point have I disobeyed any of the doctor’s orders.”

“not yet, anyway, but you’re still in arms reach.” Stretch gave up on clever escape attempts and settled against Edge’s side. “keep behaving at home, yeah? anyway, they should be springing us soon.”

“They should.” But there was no telltale sign of footsteps, nor the sound of rubber wheels on a tile floor and the irritable tension in his soul was on the verge of snapping. “Could you help me to my feet, I’d like to go to the restroom.”

Stretch pulled back, blinking with what would be a frankly hurtful amount of suspicion if Edge wasn’t sure he would have done the same thing were their positions reversed, “seriously? for what, all that healing grow you the ability to take a leak?”

“Don’t be crude,” Edge chided, “I want to wash my hands.”

“geez, i can bring you a wet washcloth, we’ll be home in like, an hour, why do you-”

“Please.”

Perhaps it was the urgency in his voice, but Stretch faltered, his sockets narrowing to show only the rim of pale white lights. It was perfectly true, Edge did want to wash his hands; even knowing that the hospital rooms were as clean as possible, everything freshly washed and sterilized, it wasn’t enough. He’d been here for days in this bed made up with sheets that weren’t his own, dressed in borrowed hospital gowns and subjected to sponge baths from the hands of relative strangers. The urge to scrub himself clean was constant and he was very much looking forward to showering in his own bathroom, but for now even though his release was imminent, his agitation was starting to slip his hold. At the very least he wanted to wash his hands with hot running water and plenty of soap before he put on a fresh pair of gloves, he needed that.

That Stretch’s expression abruptly softened was a small measure of its own relief, as was his nod. “okay, baby, let’s get you up.”

With some effort, Edge swung his legs off the side of the bed, Stretch helping guide the way. The cast was unwieldy, but it was hardly the first he’d ever had. Not the first broken bone or even broken leg, though Edge could admit it was the worst. He took a moment for his equilibrium to adjust before easing his weight into standing, faint spots dancing in his vision; it was the first time he’d been truly upright in days, but it was fine, just fine.

“okay, here’s the crutches--”

Stretch reached for them at the same time he did, and that was enough to somehow tangle the ends with both their own feet. They worked exactly as a lever should, knocking them both off balance and Edge tried to catch himself but the damage was done. All he could do was aim them both for the safety of the bed rather than the hard floor and Stretch yelped as they tumbled down to the mattress, Edge’s not inconsiderable weight on top of him.

That yelped turned closer to a wheeze as Edge accidentally jammed an elbow into his rib cage as he attempted to untangle himself from the maze of their limbs. By the time he’d managed to somewhat free himself, Stretch was laughing helplessly between pants for breath, “sorry, babe, that didn’t go as planned.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” Edge said dryly. He was gathering himself for a second attempt, this time without the ‘help’, when a voice came from behind them.

“huh. didn’t think they allowed that kind of action in these rooms, but you do you.”

They both looked up to see Sans standing in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets and his normal smile playing on his mouth. The dark stains beneath his sockets were a testament to his own days in the hospital, his normal hoodie and shorts rumpled as though they’d been slept in. Which was often the case hospital or not, but seeing it here seemed particularly poignant.

“heya, what’s up?” Stretch asked. He slithered out from under Edge in an eely little move that would’ve come in rather handy only five minutes earlier.

“only the sky and satellites,” Sans said easily. “heard they were springing you, thought I should stop by.” He stepped further into the room, but didn’t close the door, and his grin didn’t touch his eye lights. “hey, stretch, why don’t you go see how that wheelchair wrangling is going, yeah?”

Stretch gave Sans a brutally unimpressed look; he might cheerily claim the title of idiot, but he was nobody’s fool. Low and through his teeth, Stretch said, “i think the orderlies know what they’re doing, doubt they need an amateur to help ‘em.”

Implying that he wasn’t about to follow the unspoken order to leave. This new protectiveness was not entirely unwelcome; to be honest it was somewhat endearing, but Edge couldn’t allow it to take hold. He gave Stretch a gentle nudge, jarring him from his glaring with a quiet, “Go on, love, see what’s taking so long.”

If Sans needed to speak to him alone, then it was likely Embassy business and from the way Stretch looked between them with an expression of distinct unhappiness, he knew it. He started to reach for Edge, his fingers curling abortively into a fist before they touched what Edge knew was a lingering bruise down the side of his face.

“fine. wheelchair wrangling, sure, yippee-ki-yay,” Stretch said flatly. “yeah, okay, but if you upset him, remember that i’m the one stuck riding shotgun with him all the way home.”

Sans only gave him a wink and a finger twirl, “don’t even worry about it, i won’t give the edgelord a reason to whip out the big guns.”

The sound Stretch made was a step past rude and when he stomped out, he yanked the door closed with a near slam, echoing in the small room. Edge spoke before Sans could, asking quietly, “How is your brother?”

Sans seemed unperturbed by the change of subject, “doing all right. about like you, itchin’ to go home. he’ll be here a few days longer yet, they’d like to keep a closer eye on the noggin, but the docs say everything’s going as expected.”

That, at least, was a comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“ooookay?” Sans said slowly, bemused. He rocked on his slippered feet and something about that was upsetting; he’d given up slippers for sneakers some time ago. To see them making an appearance outside of his own home was disheartening, a step backwards. “mind telling me what for?”

The words came with some difficulty, clogging in his throat, but Edge forced them out, “Papyrus shouldn’t have been hurt. He was my responsibility.”

Sans was shaking his head before Edge even finished. “yeah, let’s back up a few steps here. look, you were leading the security team, but you ain’t the only one on it, and if i can forgive myself for not protecting him, i’m sure as fuck not gonna blame you.” Edge said nothing and Sans’s easy smile thinned, “but hey, since you’re going with unnecessary guilt, guess we can hop into why i’m here. after you get settled in at home and you get a mo’, might wanna check out the paperwork for your psych assessment. once you’re back on your feet, you need to schedule an evaluation with the department head shrinker before you can get back to work.”

Edge frowned, already shaking his head, “That won’t be necessary.”

Sans shrugged carelessly. “maybe, maybe not, but what it ain’t is optional. i had to do it myself. it’s only an hour or so, just a chat to make sure your head is on straight.”

“I don’t need a chat,” Edge said tersely. In fact, he was fairly sure it was the last thing he needed, and it was definitely not something he wanted. “I survived Underfell, this incident is hardly comparable.”

Never had Sans’s grin seemed so like his brother’s, sharp and darkly amused despite his blunted teeth. “welp, have i got great news for you, pal. you’re not in Underfell anymore, you’re here and either you play by the rules or you don’t play, you get me, little brother?” For all his vow not to stir Edge up, those two words made him startle, unexpected emotion heavy in his chest, “and you can keep your bitching about it, this ain’t my idea, it’s from higher up. but i agree with it. get it done, you hear me?”

“Fine,” Edge gritted out. It was a terrible idea and unnecessary, but arguing with Sans was less useful than shouting into the wind and expecting it to obey, “Is that all?”

“it was everything on my shortlist,” Sans said, all languid ease once again, “stretch should be back soon. go home, get some rest, watch some shitty tv, smooch your honey on his face as many times as you can. i’ll try to stop by once paps is back home, maybe we can schedule a playdate for you two martyrs, and you can chat about tossing yourselves on grenades or whatever else you have planned. maybe if you two idiots can stop taking on the blame for any shit that rolls downhill, you’ll have a good time.”

He started turning to door and Edge blurted, “Sans.”

Sans stopped, head tilting curiously.

It was difficult to ask, given the state of whatever the relationship between Sans and Red was, and yet, Edge’s normal sources were failing him; the Embassy servers were still closed to him and normally his brother would be the one he’d go to first. Therein lay the problem. “I haven’t seen my brother since the day they brought me in.”

“no?” Sans said lightly, but before Edge could do more than keep the tight hurt from showing on his face, Sans sighed tiredly, his head drooping, “yeah, i know.”

“Do you know where he is?” It burst loose and to ask this way, so straightforward and desperate, felt wrong, almost felt like a betrayal, but it was his brother and his bottled up concern was starting to leak around the edges.

Sans sucked on his teeth loudly, but the sudden sincerity in his voice weakened Edge with uncertain relief, “working on it. i’ll let you know if i get any bites.”

“Thank you.” It was all he could hope for.

Sans gave him a nod and then he was gone, sidestepping into a shortcut. Edge sagged back on the mattress, exhausted despite having done nothing today but a foiled attempt at standing.

If he couldn’t investigate his brother’s absence on his own, then Sans was as good as he could hope for as an alternate. He might be somewhat kinder than Red, but Edge recognized a commonality between them, especially when it came to seeking information with less than traditional methods.

Sans was wrong about one thing, though; it had been Edge’s responsibility to watch over all the diplomats, and he’d allowed his personal distractions to interfere with his duty. If his mind had been properly on the task at hand, the damages would have been so much less, and he could only imagine the fallout that the Embassy was currently dealing with because of it since his access had been taken away. It was strikingly similar to the events at the Golden City restaurant with Jeff, his distraction keeping him from protecting those he was supposed to keep safe.

Liabilities, Red called them. Called Stretch. His pretty little liability.

Even worse was a truth he hardly wanted to acknowledge. If he’d given in or ignored Asgore’s instruction and brought Stretch with him, Edge had little doubt his instinct would have been to protect him to the exclusion of all others. Protocol dictated that his concern should have been for the diplomats, but he couldn't pretend that would be true if his husband was there.

Edge shifted higher on the mattress, wincing as he struggled to arrange his cast back on the pile of pillows. The room seemed too quiet without Stretch, echoing emptily, and Edge let his head drop back on the pillows, staring up at the plain white of the ceiling as he waited for the wheelchair and the much-needed freedom to go home.

But the word ‘liability’ was heavy on his mind, and the voice was his brother’s.

~~*~~

As it turned out, the coveted wheelchair was so close to their room, Stretch came damn close to tripping over it when he sulked his way out. And yeah, it satisfied a certain vindictiveness in him to sweetly ask the guy if he couldn’t come back in a half hour or so, since there was important Embassy shit going on behind that closed door.

The orderly didn’t even grumble, probably too awed imagining what the top secret shenanigans might be to think about the fact that Edge was supposed to be off-duty, like, really off, not supposed to be doing any work at all and if almost getting blown up didn’t qualify a person for some paid time off, then that contract needed some review.

But even if it was satisfying to send the transport guy off while Stretch indulged himself in a little justified annoyance, it didn’t exactly keep the guilt from skittering on up his back. Stretch ignored it and wandered down to the nurse’s station where there were a few chairs and a table lined up in a sort of ‘waiting hallway’.

The chairs were even shittier than the ones in the rooms, thin-cushioned and cramped, and way too short besides. Stretch slumped down into one anyway, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him instead of trying to sit properly with his knees up by his ears. It was awkward as hell, but even that was almost welcome. Better to get all his sulks out before he got back into the room, because he honestly didn’t want to fight with Edge today, not when he was about to get him back home. Once they were there it’d be easier, he was gonna make sure of that; one week of rest wasn’t too fucking much to ask.

He was playing a very morose round of ‘Words With Friends’ on his phone, trying to figure out what he could make out of FIX with the letters he had, when the tippy tap of shoes on the tile made him glance up.

To his surprise, it was Toriel and Frisk, and they seemed equally surprised to see him. That at least made sense, he didn’t have many good reasons to be sitting in the damn hallway like an uncommon sort of houseplant.

“Why, hello, Papyrus,” Toriel exclaimed. Sweet lady that she was, she didn’t ask about his current location, even if her shrewd gaze said she certainly noticed it. Technically, she wasn’t a diplomat herself, she only came along as Frisk’s guardian, but try to explain that to anyone who met her, staring at the way she towered over most Humans as they looked up into her regal face.

Yeah, there was a reason that most Monsters still called her the Queen even if she and Asgore were divorced.

Hearing his name from her made Stretch smile reluctantly. Tori was about the only person who called him Papyrus these days aside from his therapist. It was per his own request, way back when she’d come to him and asked for his help with the lab work. She wasn’t his friend behind the door any more than Asgore was, but somehow, it was soothing to have at least one Monster call him by his real name. Plus, she had jokes; it was something, anyway.

Frisk offered a cheerful grin of their own. They were currently making the teenager years their own, all gangly limbs and flared rashes of pimples, but their smile was always warming. Good kid, worked tirelessly to get Monsters the equality that they damn well deserved. They’d gone a long way in showing Stretch that most Humans were all right.

Not that the little fucker from Underswap really deserved the title of Human, but yeah, anyway, that was trauma for another time.

Stretch forced a little leftover cheer into his voice, “hey, guys, what’re you up to?”

Toriel smiled, dimpling prettily through her short fur. “Visiting the other Papyrus.” Her laughter was bright and sincere. “He’s a dear, truly, but it is rather like eating a clock. Time consuming.”

“especially if you go for seconds,” Stretch added gleefully, and Tori let out another peal of laughter, shaking with it as she leaned against her child. Who only shook their head and took her weight stoically, their smile sincere.

“That was a good one,” Toriel sighed finally, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But if you’d something a little tastier than an hour, we’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“can’t,” Stretch said, with true regret. Wasn’t often he got to spend time with a pure spirit of the punny kind. Stretch jerked his head towards the hospital room door. “edge is about to get sprung.”

Toriel only smiled, unoffended, “That is wonderful news, dear, won’t you give him my love?” And as Frisk bounced impatiently, she chuckled again. “Apologies, our love. Yes, yes, dear, I’m coming.”

The kid gave Stretch a cheekily salute and darted down the hallway towards the elevators, but before Tori could follow, Stretch caught her arm.

"tori?” Stretch asked, low, “can i ask a favor?"

"Of course,” Toriel glanced at Frisk, who’d paused, looking back quizzically, and called, “Go on ahead, dear, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.” She returned her attention to Stretch, her expression curious, “What is it?”

"you got enough juice for a little healing yet?" It’d been a few days, she should be replenished, but Stretch didn’t want to assume, not when he was already begging favors.

Immediately, suspicion filled her soft face, "Yes, why?"

He glanced distrustfully around the empty hallway as if someone might spring out of the walls before he tugged up his sleeve, showed her his wrist. The bruises swelling there were stark against the bone, slender, dark smudges only slightly wider than skeletal fingers. Toriel’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, studying them, but when she looked back up at him, Stretch met her gaze steadily. There were any number of Monsters here in the hospital with healing capabilities but none of them were ones he trusted enough to show. Not even Blue, but that wasn’t exactly about trust, now was it.

Very carefully, Toriel took his wrist in hand, the fur on her fingers ticklishly soft. Her thumb skirted over the mottled bruises as she murmured, "He wasn't quite awake, was he?"

Stretch said nothing, only nodded shortly, and her expression softened. "I spent a great many years married to a former soldier myself. Promise me this isn't an ongoing issue and I'll heal it."

"i promise,” Stretch said immediately, all stark honesty and he didn’t think he imagined a certain tension leaving Tori’s shoulders. “it's only the second time he's done anything like that in all the time we've been together.” Well, not including fun-time bruises, but that was probably some tmi. “and he was drugged to the gills, too. it was an accident, but my bro might not see it that way."

"You may be right,” Toriel said, with the tone of one who worked often with his bro and had a fair idea of his inner workings. “I have a slightly different understanding of these matters than he might. Hold still, now."

Warmth glossed out from her touch, the soft green of healing and instantly the bruises faded along with the lingering discomfort. A couple seconds of effort to keep back a possible defcon situation with his bro. Not quite a lie, not in his opinion, but even if it was, it was one Stretch could live with.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully, tugging his sleeve back down.

“Of course, dear. You take care now, won’t you?” To his bemusement, she leaned down and planted a kiss on top of his skull, the same way she might’ve to Frisk on any given day. “Take care of that husband of yours as well.” Her smiled turned tremulous. “I owe him a debt that I can never repay.”

“every day i can,” Stretch assured her, watching as she walked after Frisk. Come to think of it, might not just be a favor for him that she’d healed those bruises. Hiding them from Edge had been a hell of a chore, too, trying to keep him from feeling even more like shit about it, and not for the first time Stretch wished he was better at healing himself. It would be a nice trick for special occasions, for sure.

The sound of the wheelchair returning caught his attention and Stretch hopped to his feet, wandering back towards the hospital room. Looked like it was finally time to head home, and that, friends and neighbors, was probably gonna take all the patience he could get.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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minimin1993 · 5 years ago

Text

B/L 14

Warning: Violence.

When they reached the S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters Steve and Linda marched into Fury’s office.

“You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve said walking up to his deck.

“ I didn't lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“ Which you didn't feel obliged to share.” Linda said getting pissed.

“ I'm not obliged to do anything.”

“ Those hostages could've died, Nick.” Steve said

“ I sent two of the greatest soldiers in history to make sure that didn't happen.” Fury said turning to look at them in the eyes.

“ Soldiers trust each other, that's what makes it an army. Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

“ The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye. Look, I didn't want you doing anything you weren't comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have missions of their own.” Steve said

“ It's called compartmentalization. Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.”

“ Except you.” Linda said rolling her eyes at him.

“ You're wrong about me. I do share. I'm nice like that.” Fury said as they all walked into the elevator.

“Insight bay.” Fury said

“ Captain Rogers and Agent Grey does not have clearance for Project Insight.” The computer said.

“ Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.”

“ Confirmed.” The computer said as the elevator starts moving down.

“ You know, they used to play music.” Steve said breaking the silence causing Linda to giggle softly.

“ Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years. My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He'd walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He'd say "hi", people would say hi back. Time went on, neighborhood got rougher. He'd say "Hi", they'd say, "Keep on steppin'." Granddad got to grippin' that lunch bag a little tighter.” Fury said

“ Did he ever get mugged?”

“ Every week some punk would say, "What's in the bag?"

“ What did he do?” Linda asked

“ He'd show 'em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded .22 Magnum.” Fury said smiling causing Linda to giggle more. “Granddad loved people. But he didn't trust them very much.”

As they continue to ride down the elevator Steve and Linda notices the giant Helicarriers.

“ Yeah, I know. They're a little bit bigger than a .22. This is Project Insight. Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.” Fury said showing the two around.

“ Launched from the Lemurian Star.” Steve said as they walked around looking at the aircrafts.

“ Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.”

“ Stark?”

“ Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines. These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps outside his spider hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

“ I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.” Steve justifies

“ We can't afford to wait that long.”

“ Who's "we"?” Linda asked as she looks up at the guns on the ship.

“ After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we're way ahead of the curve.”

“ By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection.”

“You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

“ Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free. This isn't freedom, this is fear.” Steve said pointing at the ship.

“ SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be. It's getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap.”

“ Don't hold your breath.” Steve said walking out.

“How about you Grey?”

“I understand what Tasha had to do but this. This is a whole new level.” She said walking away as well.

By the time Linda headed back to her shared apartment with Steve she didn’t see his motorcycle parking in the structure at all. Sighing she drove her car to the place where she know he will be. When she got to the Smithsonian Museum she quickly found Steve staring at the screen.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division.” The PA said as Linda walked over to Steve lacing their hands together as they looked at the display of Bucky.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. It was known, Barnes and Linda Grey was in a romantic relationship even engaged prepared to be married after coming back from the war but tragic fell. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in the service of his country.” The PA said, Linda couldn’t hold her tears as pictures of her and Bucky was being shown on the screen.

“Linda..” Steve said turning to look at the girl.

“I am fine. Come on, let's go” She said pulling him over to the cinema where Peggy was on the screen.

“That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve...Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would...who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life.” Peggy said on the screen as Steve pulls out his compass looking at the picture of Peggy.

“You go ahead and see Peggy, I am going to go hang out with Tasha.” She said standing up knowing exactly where his heart was pulling him.

Linda and Natasha had settled down on Natasha couch watching movies after movies when Steve messages Linda explaining what had happened and Fury is currently in surgery. Both of the girls had rushed and drove to the hospital.

“ Is he gonna make it?” Natasha said standing next to Steve watching the doctors operate on Fury.

“ I don't know.”

“Tell me about the shooter.”

“ He's fast and strong. Had a metal arm.” He said and Linda heard a faint gasp of recognition from Natasha before Maria Hill joined them.

“ Ballistics?”

“ Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable.” Maria said

“ Soviet-made.”

“ Yeah.” Maria said suddenly they watch in shock as Fury's state deteriorates.

“ He's in V-tach.” a nurse said

“ Crash cart coming in.” said another one.

“ Nurse, help me with the drape.”

“ BP is dropping.”

“ Defibrillator! I want you to charge him at one hundred.” Steve, Natasha, Linda, and Maria watch in shock as he flatlines.

“ Don't do this to me, Nick.” Natasha whispers.

“ Stand back! Three, two, one. Clear! Pulse?”

“ No pulse.”

“ Okay. 200, please. Stand back! Three, two, one. Clear! Give me epinephrine! Pulse?”

“ Negative.”

“ Don't do this to me, Nick. Don't do this to me.” Natasha said one more time watching before Steve turns away

“ What's the time?”

“1:03, Doctor.”

“ Time of death, 1:03 a.m.”

Natasha, Steve, and Linda are in a room where Fury's dead body has been laid out, Natasha is looking at Fury's body with tears running down her face when Maria joins them

“ I need to take him.” Maria said

“ Natasha.” Steve said as she touches Fury’s face tenderly before storming off. “Natasha!”

“ Why was Fury in your apartment?” She said turning to look at Steve.

“ I don't know.” He said when Brock showed up behind them.

“ Cap, they want you back at SHIELD.”

“ Yeah, give me a second.” Steve answered.

“ They want you now.”

“ Okay.” Steve said turning back to look at Natasha

“ You're a terrible liar.” She said before rushing off.

“Steve, go. I got this.” Linda said walking up to Steve placing her hand on his shoulder.

‘Careful, I am not getting a good feeling about this.’ Linda/Luna projected into his mind when she stares into his eyes. He stood there a little shock because she has never done that to him before but gave a faint nod before walking off.

“Linda something doesn’t feel right.” Natasha said driving back to her apartment.

“I know, I am getting a weird feeling I can’t seem to shake off.” Linda said. “Steve is hiding something, he can try to hide it but I have known him for way too long. Head back to the hospital now.”

“Why?” Natasha question.

“I have a feeling.”

They reached back to the hospital Linda wonder along the floor they were last on. She backtrack his steps before she lands on the vending machine, she scans the machine before she lands on a flashdrive behind the gum. When she was about to react she felt something sharp on her neck before collapsing.

“I am sorry Linda.” was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.

When Linda woke up Steve was standing next to her along with Natasha.

“That was a very low blow Tasha.” Linda said laughing lightly getting out of the hospital bed.

“I am sorry Lin, I had to know why.” She said.

“Yeah how much did you give me? Enough to take down an army of Elephants? SHIT!” Linda said rubbing her stiff joints as Steve smirks.

“I don’t know how much to give a super soldier.” Natasha said.

“You will never get another chance like that again.” Linda said “So what’s the plan CAP?”

The three of them went to the mall dressed in there disguises. Basically Natasha and Steve was pretending to be a Civilian couple and Linda completely unrecognizable because of her powers was hanging in the back as a third wheel pretending to shop. They had entered the Mac Store using one of their computers while Linda is in front of them playing with the iPhone pretending to ignore them but listening to everything they say.

“The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up SHIELD will know exactly where we are.”

“ How much time do we have?”

“ Uh...about nine minutes from… Now.” Natasha said plugging in the flashdrive. “Fury was right about that ship, somebody's trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI, it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands.”

“ Can you override it?” Steve asked

“ The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly. I'm gonna try running a tracer. This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so if we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.”

“ Can I help you guys with anything?” an employee came over to Natasha and Steve.

“ Oh, no. My fiancé was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations.” Natasha said hugging his shoulder with a smile on her face making Linda want to bust out laughing seeing Steve awkward face.

“ Right! We're getting married.” He said

“ Congratulations. Where do you guys think about going?” the employee said

“ New Jersey.” Steve answered making Linda facepalm herself as the employee just stares at Steve for a really long time.

“Oh. I have the exact same glasses.” Employee said.

“ Wow, you two are practically twins.” Natasha said sarcastically as she furiously typed on the computer.

“ Yeah, I wish. Specimen. Uh...if you guys need anything, I've been Aaron.”

“Thank you.” Steve said seeing Rumlow leading the STRIKE team looking for them. “You said nine minutes, come on.”

“ Shh, relax. Got it” Natasha said, Linda round around the table all three of them looking at the signal from Wheaton, NJ “You know it?”

“I used to. Let's go.” Steve said pulling the flashdrive out and all three of them left the store. Steve and Natasha a head while Linda walk behind them. “Standard tac-team. Two behind, to cross, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro.” Steve said when two of the agents were walking toward them.

“ Shut up and put your arm around me, laugh at something I said.” Natasha said to Steve.

“ What?”

“ Do it!” Natasha said when Steve puts his arm around her shoulders laughing.

As they are going down the escalator Natasha spots Rumlow on the escalator next to them going up, she turns to Steve.

“ Kiss me.” Natasha said to Steve making Linda snicker.

“ What?”

“ Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“ Yes, they do.” Steve said but Natasha quickly pulled Steve head down and kisses him making Rumlow look away as he passes them on the escalator.

“ You still uncomfortable?” Natasha said pulling away turning forward.

“ It's not exactly the word I would use.” Steve said before Linda look down in front of him.

“I think he liked it.” Linda whispered as he nudges her playfully.

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian x reader #steve rogers #the first avenger #originl character #chris evans #original character #winter solider x you #winter soldier #captain america #infinity war #marvel

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veridium · 6 years ago

Text

heartbreak warfare

WELCOME TO MORE QUEER PAIN

Hope ya’ll are ready for some shit. Because I brought the shit. Heaping dose, because I have had a wonderful day and feel all mushy. Enjoy!

part one // last episode

-- The man was a no-good blond bastard with too much wool in his wardrobe and clumsy taste in flowers. White carnations represent pure love, and he had the audacity to come around with a fist of them. He should have crawled up the stairs on his knees if he wanted to present pure love. Yelling at him made Olivia feel close to the goddess Medusa in levels of vindicated fury, though she was inconvenienced by the lack of hair snakes.

Despite her almighty and supernatural ire, Ellinor granting him entry is something she disagrees with but ultimately respects: her best friend is tired, and deserves to feel loved, and maybe the one silver lining is that there isn’t much else Cullen Rutherfudger can mess up more. Maybe if they get it together she won’t have to peel her up off the floor next weekend. Damn, had their standards for a good Saturday crashed down below sea level.

But, she will be keeping a close eye on him. A very close, and scathing, eye. To be fair, the man shows up and tows the line when he has fucked up; which is more than she can say for who she once thought of as a potential suitor as Sunday passes with no word. Potential suitor. Ugh, that kind of working only happens when you’ve paid attention to someone who’s a rhetorical romantic. Too much attention.

Monday comes, and is mundane. She keeps a low profile, and attends classes with little fuss; her Professor asks how she is doing because of her silence in class discussion, and she gives an excuse about getting over a head cold. Yeah, right. Besides lecture and a short shift at the gym, she goes back home to continue being reclusive. She does not cross paths with Ellinor much, though she fields the almost hourly texts asking her how she is, where she is, and if she needs anything. Ellinor is doing that innocent thing all friends do when they find themselves luckier in personal exploits than their loved ones: sympathy that is all-too-easily swallowed as pity when you’ve been kicked down one-too-many times.

Tuesday also comes and goes. Classes and a midterm exam, one she completes with confidence; cold war history is interesting enough. It helped that she had someone, for a brief time, to rant about it and dissect things. During the free response portion she uses a word Cassandra did during one of their debates: “pejorative.” How the hell she knew that word was whatever.

Then, Wednesday. Even though it’s only been a few days, when she wakes up to Ellinor’s voice it feels like it’s been a century since the last time she’s heard it.

“Liv, release the hostage oreos.” Oh, great. Long time no see, and she’s come into her room just to attack her for her life choices.

Olivia growls and hides away, bastard red velvet oreos in her clutches. “Bite me.”

“Liv. Come on,” Ellinor’s standing by her bed, hands on her hips like a fed up soccer mom trying to get her kid up for school. “You haven’t been responding to my texts and you don’t answer the door. I worried you ate yourself into a coma. I keep hearing the Scientist on repeat through your door. I think I can play the piano part off of just memory alone.”

“Good, maybe Cullen would enjoy another concert.”

“Olivia!”

She gives in and rolls over, tossing the oreos to her without looking. “Fine! Have at ‘em.” Ellinor misses and they fall onto the floor with a sharp, plastic crack. The worst part though is the thought that comes immediately after they crash: Cassandra would have caught it.

She groans again and tosses her comforter over her head. “What time is it? My alarm hasn’t gone off.”

“I caught it as it went off, bitch,” Ellinor grumbles. The sound of her picking up the oreos and tossing them to the table. She cares. I shouldn’t be so mean. She cares.

“Oh. Hm.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You haven’t dropped off the radar with me since that time you shaved half your eyebrows off at the Homecoming after party, remember?”

Oh, Jesus. How could she forget. “Mm. I’m fine. I’ve just been swamped with homework.”

“You? Olivia Sinclair, swamped by homework?” Ellinor’s voice veers farther away, towards the door. “Shit, the rapture must be upon us.”

“Give me a break, please. What are you doing up so early anyway? You don’t have class until…” that was a silly question. There could only be one reason she would be up and about like this. A week ago, it would have been the promise of coffee by Olivia. Now, it’s the promise of someone else’s coffee. Blond roast. Bleh.

“...Uh,” Ellinor chuckles nervously, “Nothing. I’m just hanging out. If you’d rather be left alone, I can go back to--”

“Don’t lay an egg, Ellinor.” Olivia gripes, stretching her toes. “You can say you’re up for him. I’m not a widow. Have fun, whatever it is you heteros do at the crack of dawn besides milking cows and...I don’t know, watching TLC or something.”

Silence. Ellinor sighs, and opens the door. “Okay, Olivia.” Dammit, she feels bad. Ellinor shouldn’t be feeling bad. She deserves to be happy, and she deserves a best friend who would support her being happy. Olivia flips over to lay face down and continue loathing herself. Every bone in her body wants to snarl and hide from everything good and cheery. Soon, Cassandra won’t be the only one steering clear of her, if she keeps this up.

Just outside her shut door, she hears a deeper voice. A deeper, calmer voice. Then Ellinor’s more opinionated tone. She says something bossy -- sounding like ‘I’m gonna kill your roommate for this, I hope you know.’ A sigh immediately responds. Typical. Cullen better have prepared himself to be with a woman who didn’t pull any punches, who could fight her own fights...and sometimes, fights that belong to her friends who have grown too tired of it all.

All she can do is wonder what it’ll take to feel okay again. It is one thing to say you’re hard to love, and make people miserable. It’s another to have someone confirm it so unapologetically.

Wednesday is as repetitive in the first half as Monday was: the same lectures, and then eventually a couple hours in the TA office waiting for nothing and no one to show up for assistance while she grades Blackboard responses to the week’s study question.

She’s in the thick of it when an email notification pops up on her laptop. Her women’s history 305 Professor, saying they’re switching texts for next week’s discussions. They’re going to study Heloise, a 11th century French nun and scholar. Great, fantastic, except none of their texts are about her. The Professor kindly asks they search for the suggested reading online or in the library. Olivia would be completely okay with digging up the text online if her laptop hadn’t just been salvaged from a virus stemming for the last time she did so.

Besides, the library was a reliable source. Why not do something she’s good at, and dig?

With a half hour left in her office hours she takes the liberty to stroll down to the main campus library. The book in particular is old so it should be in the stocks. When she goes to a computer and checks the catalog, she finds one copy is still available; her class’s rush to obtain it free hasn’t nosed her out completely just yet.

The Dewey decimal number takes her to a shelf on the fourth floor, but after 20 minutes of searching she uncovers nothing. No book, no Heloise. Defeated, she stands alone in the aisle and looks around one last time. It should be here, there’s no reason it shouldn’t. It said so in the database.

Climbing down to the main floor, she takes the issue up with the work study student manning the checkout desk.

“I’m sorry,” she says after looking it up on her own computer, “it’s been incorrectly logged. It happens.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“We have a couple satellite locations in town where our reserves are loaned long-term; sometimes their books are kept under our organized log when it’s with them.”

“So...so it is here. In town, right?”

“Oh, yeah, it should be. It’s just at one of our outsourced places.”

She asks if she can check them out still, and to her relief, the answer is yes. The kind woman writes down the address and name of the place for her, so that she can find it for herself once and for all. Handing it to her with a nice-enough smile, she sees her off.

Olivia makes it through the metal detectors before checking the piece of paper with pencil writing.

‘203 Northeast Lillian Way.’ Why is that so familiar? Shit. No, no, no, no. She rips her phone out and starts scrolling feverishly with her thumb through the old and taboo messages between her and she-who-still-shall-not-be-named. Lo and behold, it’s the worst possible outcome: the Church library. Of course, they would demand premium on books about a French Nun. How poetic.

She stands outside the library for a few minutes and deliberates her choices. With any luck, Cassandra is elsewhere -- it’s mid-afternoon, she probably has practice, or volunteer hours, or class. She tries, but she can’t remember for sure what her Tues/Thurs routine is. It’s been that long, or it’s been that hard to have her in her life. Regardless, she needs the book, and if she can get a hold of it she can make a photocopy and give it back with no harm done. It takes her a while, but she convinces herself to make a break for it: pulling out her keys from her bag and heading straight for the blue parking lot where her trusty car is awaiting.

All the same, she can’t help but curse her luck.

The drive to the Church would make her emotional if she had any emotions left to give. Days of alternating between crying, eating junk food, denial, and good ol’-fashioned anger have jaded her. At this point, she would dare the fates that be to make her days. The point between her pulling into the parking lot, turning her car off, and walking inside is all a surreal blur. Once she would have rather walked on a chain-link fence edge barefoot than set foot in a House of God, and now it’s twice in one month’s time.

Walking down the center aisle of the hall isn’t the same without Cassandra there to burst open a door on the other side. The stained glass isn’t as colorful, and the bread bowls aren’t as interesting. Still, thankfully, she finds herself left alone like before: no one to pretend they care about her soul, or ask if she’s been saved. The whole place feels like a ghost town, actually -- an odd thing for 4:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. But who is she to judge? The Pope?

A right, then a left, then up stairs. She logs it all in her head. There’s so much more room in the hallway with just her. Too much room. Eventually, she finds the double-doors. One cocked open, with a wooden stopper wedged underneath it. She hesitates to show herself: she’s not as modest as she was when she first came around, black high-waisted shorts with tights on under, with a black short-sleeve v-neck tucked in. Heels, because, of course -- and they clank on the wood floor.

But she does go in. Brave enough, finally, after a couple breaths: and she’s vindicated for doing so. No one’s in. No school kids hiding out, no Missionary interns studying away. No Cassandra, either, skulking or pacing with a book in her hands contemplating the secrets of the universe. Fabulous, she can pull out the paper in her pocket with the decimal system number, find the damn book, and be out like a thief in the night. The mischievous fates have been thwarted, so it seems. If she ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach and feet, being back where Cassandra first surprised, she can be on with her day.

Coming towards the standalone shelves rowed together, she studies the note she made for herself. The first shelf is way too early in the alphabet, so she comes around to the middle and peeks down the first section. Nothing and no one, and still in the C’s-E’s. She needs J.

Then, the sound of paper rubbing against itself. Like a page being turned. She freezes, takes a breath, and approaches the corner of the second aisle.

God, please, no, anyone but--but it’s her.

Her shoes are hitting the ground too hard for her presence to be a secret, and she knows well enough. She stops, and a heel grades against the wood grain. Cassandra -- dressed in black leggings and a sweatshirt, over-sized, and the most casual she’s ever seen her styled -- is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Up against the stacks, with several books piled around her. One open in her hands, kept in her lap. At the noise of Olivia’s footfalls she looks up. Not expecting her, clearly, her eyes go wide and she jerks up to her feet in the blink of an eye. Agile enough to do so without stumbling all over herself, but not confident enough to stand all tall and proud. Not like she did in the gallery.

Olivia steps back, and she can feel her face sour. She crinkles the paper in her hand, and it bends beneath a fist. She doesn’t respond, only glares with steeled hopelessness.

Cassandra closes the book in her hands. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I came for a book.” Iced, and disdainful.

Her face strains a bit, and she adjusts. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her bottom lip and holds her ground. “That is all.” It’s crushing her slowly, the priorities: yell at her, say sorry again, cry, beg. Too many needs and too many wants. She takes a page out of Cassandra’s metaphorical book and holds it all in under a guise of self-sufficient introversion.

“I...okay. D-do you need--”

“No. I know how to work a library.”

“...Alright.” She accepts it, and nods. Olivia sucks on her teeth. They both try to get on with whatever it is they were up to before they were aware of each other’s presence: Cassandra, sitting back down on the ground, and Olivia investigating the far end of the shelf. She tracks down the J’s, but there’s no book in sight. Again. First, twice, and thrice she checks the row where it should be. A couple minutes have passed, and she’s left standing there with no reward to her risk.

She lets out a sigh through puckered lips.

“What are you looking for?” Cassandra’s voice, clear and calm.

She keeps her eyes on the shelf, clinging to the paper. “I don’t need your help.”

“Um…” she treads lightly, very lightly, “some of the shelves are disorganized, because of the students.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. She’ll never find this damn book, she’ll never do her homework, she’ll just drop out and call it good.

“I’m…” she starts, but stops when Cassandra suddenly shows up next to her, having risen to her feet without so much as a sound. She takes hold of the paper that is in a death grip in Olivia’s hands, one which she releases against her better judgement.

She raises a brow. “Hm.”

“It’s--it’s a book with copies of letters from--”

“Heloise and Abelard. I know this anthology, I had it for...um, hm. You won’t find it here, though.”

Olivia slouches, and frustration escapes her. “What? Again?!”

“No,” Cassandra shakes her head, and then turns around, “it’s over here.” Without a word, she walks away, with the presumption that Olivia will come along. An audacious presumption; if she had not come all the way across town to track down the damn thing she would have laughed and said ‘fat chance.’ Beggars can’t be choosers.

They go to the back corner, where there are rows of tall volume books that look like dictionaries. The shelf above them is where Cassandra slants onto her toes and searches. Olivia does her best to keep her eyes preoccupied elsewhere -- anywhere else, but her -- and waits patiently. Finally she falls back, pulling a book out that’s rather small and thin. But it’s weirdly pink, like the catalog image.

“Here,” she breaths, pivoting back to her and holding it out.

Olivia stares at the outstretched book, brow pressing low as she bites back more bitterness on her mind. She takes it, gripping onto the opposite diagonal corner to Cassandra’s grip.

“T-Thanks.” She spits out, holding it to her stomach. “Do you know if I have to….to do anything special to check it out from here? Or do I just take it to the main library?”

“You just take it there…” Cassandra confirms, reaching across her own stomach and clasping onto her elbow.

“Okay.” Olivia keeps her eyes to the ground, and her responses curt. “Thanks again. I’ll be going now.”

“Olivia, I’m sorry.” The words cut through the air like a chef’s knife. Eager, and quick, like it’s the last word she’ll ever get in edgewise. Olivia has turned to the side by the time she hears it, and she stops cold. The book to her belly now feels like armor she can’t live without. She can’t bare to look at her, at whatever face she’s making. It’ll be too sincere, too heartfelt.

“I really don’t want to hear it.”

“I know you don’t, but you deserve to.”

“You thought I deserved to hear a great deal of things.”

“I...I know. And…”

“What?”

“And it was unfair of me. I shouldn’t have cornered you, when you were already feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t right.”

Olivia sucks in her gut; the words she is saying are too poignant to face with a chin tucked in shame. She looks, only to feel punished for it: Cassandra is frowning, and not the way she does by default. It is a sad one. It makes Olivia’s heart skip, and plummet at the same time.

“Y-you know, Cassandra,” she replies, her voice brittle as her throat gets thicker with tears she thought she had long run out of, “I...I just wish I knew what your secret was.”

Cassandra blinks a few times, beautiful black eyelashes fluttering. “My secret?”

“Yeah. Your secret. The one behind how you always look so undaunted and...and un-phased,” she closes her eyes to hold back tears, and cradles the book in both hands against her. “You know, Cullen talks to Ellinor, and Ellinor talks to me. I hear about how you are minding your own business, going about your day, while I cry myself to sleep or eat my body weight in Taco Bell. Every time. It hurts, but I tell myself, ‘oh, she’s just coping in her own way, she has to be as messed up as I am about this, just as torn up, just as…” she takes a shallow breath, but it does little to assuage her. “‘She has to be just as inexplicably messed up as I am.’ But even when I worried you didn’t care, or that you were indifferent, never did I think you would walk into the room and rip my heart out the way you did.”

Cassandra had become more and more engrossed in a painful kind of way, the more she talked. It wasn’t hard to understand -- it was probably the most brutally candid Olivia had ever been in her presence. Bearing her most cringe-worthy sides of her survival, for reasons she could not articulate half as well.

“So…” she sharply sniffled, “I just want to know what the secret is. What you do, what you...you tell yourself, that makes you so magically put-together. Maybe it’s the same shit you take that convinces you that I’m the one tormenting you when I…” she closes her eyes again, but a stray, small tear runs down the outside corner of her eye. That is enough for her. “You know, whatever. I’m...I’m not gonna…” she started to walk back, verbally and physically, expecting nothing else but her own shame.

A few steps, and then, the second twist of the knife.

“Liv, please.” Once again, she asks, and once again, Olivia stops. This time, her back is to her.

“I…” Cassandra takes a moment, collecting her breath by the sounds of it. “Cullen knows me, but he doesn’t know...me. He sees me coming and going, but he doesn’t know what happens while I’m getting by. If he did, he’d tell Ellinor--or, probably you, more like--that from the moment you first spoke to me I haven’t been able to get your voice out of my head. I’ve never been good with sentimentality, much as I appreciate it. But when I’m...when I’m around you it feels like I don’t have to worry. If anything’s been a secret, it’s been that.”

The sensation of hugging her in this room is still fresh. The way her arms wrapped around her waist, the way her breath felt against her neck. The briefness of it, and wishing it could last. But nothing lasts. Head high as much as she could pretend, she swallows stiff and keeps her eyes on the door for just a beat longer. Then, she faces her again. And Cassandra, she...her red eyes, her slightly red, tired eyes. It’s horrible.

“If you were so crazy about me, then why didn’t you kiss me? I was all yours, I was--”

“Because I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“...You…”

Cassandra sighs tersely, rubbing the side of her face. Exasperated. “I didn’t want the first time I ever kissed you to be during a fight about you being slut-shamed and me invading your privacy, alright? Is that...is that so much to ask? That if I was going to...to let myself be with a woman, a woman like you, that that kind of thing would be a little more special?!”

“I would have agreed, if you would have just talked to me! About anything!” Olivia shifted, now head-on with her. “You said you knew what you wanted, Cassandra, but that’s just it. You knew. I may have had my hopes and...and you may have been right about me having more of a clue than I admitted, but a clue is not consent. It isn’t a consensus. When you rejected me, I felt like an ass! Like I had taken advantage of you in some way.”

“Something you would have known wasn’t the case if you would have just stayed and listened to me! I was trying to tell you!”

“Trying?!”

“Yes! Or have you forgotten how hard it was to say out loud to the first girl you ever liked that you had feelings for her, and you were terrified she’d walk out?!”

“I did--!” She begins to hiss back, but stops. Forgiveness was an easier visitor when it came to certain suffering. She couldn’t swing the gavel when it came to that: it was like breaking ten different rules of queer code. Ugh, dammit. “Intimidated or not, we’re adults. This isn’t a recess, or homeroom, it’s...it’s life. I don’t get it, you’re always so...just...mature, with everything else but this.”

Cassandra half-nodded, and folded her arms. “The heart of man is a labyrinth, whose windings are very difficult to be discovered.”

Olivia delayed her retort, a bit off-guard. “...Um...yeah, that is...one way of putting it.”

Cassandra’s sweetly sore, peering down at the ground. “It’s an excerpt, from one of Heloise’s letters to Abelard. It’s...it’s after one where he implores her to revoke their union for the sake of God, but she refuses.”

Who even is this woman? Some thesaurus of mankind’s broken desires, reincarnated into one toned, statuesque, androgynous body? Is she even real?

“Yeah, well...Abelard was an elitist asshole who wasn’t worth it. And you’re still pompous, I take it.”

She smirks again, but not as sadly, as her eyes meet hers again. “Maybe so, on both counts. However, he still encouraged her in her work, and her learning.”

“Yes, as a means to punish her for behavior he deemed carnal even though he was a complicit beneficiary of if, not to mention--”

“Behavior he was punished for as well, rather grotesquely, if I can recall.”

Olivia’s hold on the book loosens, and she looks down at it, before back at her. “He...yeah. I mean, it was just a little...castration. It be like that sometimes.” They stare once again, and she clamps down on her tongue. They’re both fighting back something, some kind of expression, though Olivia denies the hope that Cassandra wishes to smile as she does. That is, until they both cough up a chuckle. The first in a long time; she can hardly remember the last occasion. That hurts.

After a moment, she gathers her wits. She slides the book into her shoulder back, and gets back to the unsavory topic.

“We’ve made a mess, haven’t we.” She can’t help but smile. Cassandra could run her heart through the mud and gravel, and then say something clever, and that’d be all it takes. She’d smile.

“I’m afraid so. They must think we’re devising to kill each other,” Cassandra says, coming forward. There’s no need of explanation as to who she’s referring to. In a flash, images of a very worried Ellinor and slightly scared Cullen come to mind.

“You would deserve it.”

A wry smirk. “Oh, would I?”

“Yes, you were a dick.”

“And you were an insensitive snob.”

Olivia chokes back another laugh. “Compared to the company you keep, Cassandra, I’m a down-home piece of apple pie.”

Cassandra scoffs. “Leliana? Ugh, God,” she grins, “she only pulls that act when she’s trying to pull something. She was being an ass, but, she was just...trying to protect me. I’m sure she’ll appear out of nowhere and explain herself, so, be prepared.”

“Oh, wonderful, I crave her company,” she mocks, eyes rolling gently as she looks back towards the door. “Why doesn’t she just show up now? I’m eager for more mortifying company.”

“She knew I wanted to be left alone. She does listen, you know.”

“...Oh. Well, damn.” That was a nice thing. Boundaries, huh, who knew. She can sympathize -- Olivia also has a friend who left her alone after one too many acidic quips. Oh, Ellinor. Though she wants to, she can’t crucify the woman for wanting to put up a fight for her friend. “Look, I know it makes me an asshole every time, but, I really should be going this time around. I have things to do tonight, and I really just needed to get this….this book.” She says it, but she hates it.

She hates it even more when Cassandra frowns, and blinks her eyes away. “I understand, no, it’s alright. You can’t just stay in every room I find you in.”

“No, I can’t, hah.” But I wish I could.

“Hey, Olivia?” she says one last time. Her full name. It’s nice, without all the malice.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes brighten a little. Bravery. “I...I hope that you’ll be happy. Whatever that means for you. You deserve it.”

It’s a stab to the side, clean and direct through her ribs and into her gut. Her voice saying ‘I think you knew what I wanted,’ rings loud and clear in her mind again. Wanted. Not want, wanted. And now this. Oh no, Cassandra, please, please don’t tell me you’ve really let go.

“...Thank you, Cassandra. I...I wish the same for you.” I wish it, and I wish it’d happen with me. Be with me. Ask me to stay. This time I’ll stay, I promise. Just ask it.

“Thanks. Um, drive safe, okay?” More of those polite, detached manners. Again. No, no, no.

“Yeah, um,” Olivia swallows, “I will. See you around, maybe?”

“Yeah. I think so.” A smile. She’s smiling. Oh God, she really has accepted it. That they aren’t meant for each other. Like Heloise and Abelard: Olivia as Heloise, ranting and raving in her letters about having been consumed by amorous affection. And then there’s Abelard, pointing her away towards higher callings, wishing her the best. Fuck Abelard, and fuck this.

Olivia tries her hardest to hide it, and she manages a wide grin and wave before leaving. She makes it out the hallway, down the side aisle of the Church pews, out the door, and into her car.

Slamming the car door behind her, she sinks into her compact leather seat and bangs her head against the headrest. Cassandra is letting her go. She did at the gallery, technically, but now it hurts in a different way. A way she feels no enraged pride in, no vanity. No need for spiteful indifference. She wants to take it all back, this time.

The one thing she couldn’t say, and perhaps will always regret, is that Cassandra was right. She is right. And now, she’s giving Olivia what she wants, what she clamors for, all the time. She’s giving it rather than trying to change her. So this is what respect feels like from someone who wants to love you.

The book stays in her lap as she drives home. When she stops at every red light, she clutches where Cassandra held it. If it were all a movie, this would be where she’d drive off into the sunset after her coming-of-age tale, leaving the reckless love behind. But she wants to do anything but that.

How long will it be until she finally stops? The answer is now.

She brakes hard and pulls into a street parking spot -- one of the luckiest moments of her life. Digging in her bag on the passenger’s seat, she finds her phone. Thumbing and thumbing, until she finds her name and the message thread she could never make herself delete.

--You know what’d make me happy? Because I have a couple ideas on the subject. The first is Friday night, at 11. Stay awake, or miss out.

#college au update #adventures of ellinor and olivia #modern!Olivia #ellinor trevelyan #day & age #WOOO AN UPDATE

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sceptilemasterr · 6 years ago

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Endless Summer: The (un)Official Screenplay - “End Credits”

Yes, you read that right: this movie script does include an “End Credits” of sorts! Though since there are very few people who actually worked on this script (aka: just me), I’m also going to be including my final thoughts on how the script turned out, where the story’s going from here, what the hell is up with that “CIU Project” tag I keep adding to these, and... in true MCU-style fashion, even an end-credits scene! Or two?

Masterlist: Link

CREDITS:

Written by: SceptileMasterr (obviously)

Based On: Endless Summer, Book 1 by Pixelberry Studios (with some additional elements taken from Hero, Vol 1)

Copyright Info: All names, places, and concepts from Endless Summer and Hero are copyright Pixelberry Studios. The only things I own here are Ian and Alyssa, my various Vaanti OCs, as well as the majority of the Vaanti language except the words taken from canon (conlangs are hard!)

Inspirations:

The MC Twins: @blightarts (go read his Pokemon Summer Version crossover fic where I got that idea from, btw, it’s awesome)

Movie Concept in General: @mysteli and her amazing ES Fan Trailers (both of them!)

Estela and Ian’s First Kiss: Borrowed from another one of my fics, “Sunset”

Screenwriting Software: Final Draft 11

Special Thanks:

@brightpinkpeppercorn: My fandom twin and “beta reader” of sorts; thanks for all the great and fun discussions we had about the twins, their loves, the story, and concepts and future plans; they’ve been great! I love and appreciate your feedback!

@mysteli: You’re the entire reason I started this project! Ever since your first ES trailer I have envisioned what an ES movie would be like. And then my imagination spiraled out of control from there... Appreciate your feedback as well!

@edgydepressedchoicesthot: A fellow Estela stan! I met you even before I had a Tumblr, back on AO3. I read and fell in love with your ES rewrite series there... then school blocked AO3 (grr) but I eventually caught up! I hope you enjoyed this rewrite as much as I liked yours!

@bbaba-yagaa: A more recent fandom friend, but I’m so glad I met you and your blog! I adore your Estela fics so much!

@endlesshero1122: I’m still amazed at how we had such similar ideas with our respective ES and Hero rewrites. Dual MCs and everything, with one of them even being named Alyssa, what are the odds?! Glad you’ve enjoyed this script!

...And of course, everyone not on the tag list who’ve liked, read, and/or commented on this script! Every time I get a new like or comment, it makes me so happy to know that I made someone’s day a little better with this screenplay-rewrite of a visual novel we all know and love. I love writing; I really have a passion for it, and I hope I can continue entertaining people with my future stories to come!

And SPEAKING of future stories...

FADE IN:

INT. THE CELESTIAL LOBBY - DAY

Estela is standing at the concierge desk, gazing at several sheets of paper stacked atop it. The elevator doors open, and Ian emerges, the folders he’d found previously now clutched in his hands. She turns at his approach.

ESTELA: Ian! There you are! Listen, you should see this-

IAN: Look, I... I’ve got something I need to show you. To show everyone, really. Where are they?

ESTELA: I think most of them are still sleeping. Can’t say I blame them, after last... night? Morning? Day? Anyway, look.

Ian crosses over to the desk and looks at the papers. On them, in a messy scrawl, are written several seemingly non-sequitur messages. Ian picks one up and reads it, confused.

IAN: “The Hostiles know.” “McKenzie equals Lupus.” “The STARS are key!!” “He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here...”

He looks up at Estela.

IAN: What is this? Looks like nonsense.

ESTELA: I’m not sure. But more to the point, this wasn’t here before we “time traveled.” Someone was here during the 204 days we skipped. Is this Diego’s handwriting?

IAN: Nah. I’d know his scribbles anywhere. Doubt it’s the Hostiles, either, since they don’t speak English.

ESTELA: So that means... what?

Before Ian can respond, the elevators open again, and Alyssa and Jake emerge. They stop short when they see the folders in Ian’s hand.

ALYSSA: Wait, are those-?

JAKE (simultaneously): You found some too?!

Estela and Ian turn to face them. Ian shrugs and holds up the folders.

IAN: I... I didn’t mean to keep these from you guys, I just didn’t really get the chance-

He stops when he realizes what Alyssa and Jake had said.

IAN: Wait... “found some too?” You both-

Alyssa shrugs sheepishly.

ALYSSA: At that emergency shelter. One of ‘em was about you, Estela.

ESTELA: Me?

IAN: You should’ve shown her!

ESTELA: To be fair, we all had our reasons for not trusting one another, especially at first.

She pulls out her own set of folders. The top one is Jake’s, and she hands it to him.

ESTELA: This is yours, I believe.

JAKE: Goddamn...

He flips through it, saying nothing, but his eyes go wide in surprise.

JAKE: Hang on. Be right back.

He sprints out of the lobby, toward the entrance to the basement. Alyssa hangs her head and sighs.

ALYSSA: Sorry, Estela. Really. We’re long past the point where we should’ve stopped keeping secrets from each other-

ESTELA: It’s fine. Apparently we all did the same thing.

IAN: I was hoping to find everyone so I could show them all at once. I’ve got Craig’s, Zahra’s, and Quinn’s.

ALYSSA: But how do they know this much stuff about us? Birthdates, locations, history... except yours, Estela; a lot of it’s blacked out for some reason.

She hands the folder to Estela, who reads through it.

ESTELA: What is here is worryingly accurate. How could Rourke possibly know all of this? Down to the last detail?!

Alyssa shivers involuntarily.

ALYSSA: I dunno, but it’s freaking me out-

Jake bounds back up the stairs, a pair of folders clutched in his hands.

JAKE: Found these right before all that Aleister business started, and then I forgot all about it, given... uh, what happened that night.

He looks awkwardly at Ian. Alyssa coughs and glares at Jake.

IAN: What happened that night?

ALYSSA: None of your business! Actually, hang on: what were you two doing that night? I seem to remember you rushing in together-

IAN: “None of your business!”

ALYSSA: I really should’ve seen that coming.

JAKE: None of that matters right now. You two are gonna wanna see these.

He passes the twins’ folders to each of them. They stand side by side as they open the folders, staring openmouthed at the “Birth” sections.

IAN: “December 31, 1995 - 11:59 PM” ... “Location... La Huerta?!”

ALYSSA: Mine says “January 1, 1996 - 12:00 AM.” Also La Huerta.

JAKE: There’s no way in hell you two were born here. You’d have known that, right?

Alyssa and Ian shake their heads.

ALYSSA: Jake... we were adopted together when we were babies. We never knew our birth parents or anything.

IAN: Our birth certificates said “January 1st, ‘96,” so that’s just when we celebrated, but... Alyssa...

ALYSSA: If Jake and Estela’s birthday info is all true, and if the others’ are true as well, then...

IAN: ...We were born here. On La Huerta.

ALYSSA: Ian... who are we?!

FADE TO BLACK.

TO BE CONTINUED IN... ENDLESS WINTER

FINAL THOUGHTS AND FUTURE PLANS:

How do you actually write one of these things? Well, I start out by playing through the canon chapter(s) that a given scene is based on and transcribing the script into Word for reference. The canon ES chapters are L-O-N-G, by the way. Then, I decide what to keep, what to alter, what to get rid of, and which lines to include unchanged, and then I write the actual script! After that, I run through it once to edit, then I’ll read the lines aloud and make more changes to make them sound natural. Post it to Tumblr, fix the formatting (and edit once again), then voila! A scene is born!

What was up with the changes? You skipped a ton of scenes! I thought the script turned out well, and (based on people’s reactions and comments) reasonably easy to follow even with all the changes. Most of the changes were made with the aim of streamlining and shortening the story; even with all the scenes cut from canon, the script still ended up being an estimated 3 hours long! Yikes! The other major changes were mostly made with the aim of setting up threads for weaving a greater story, which leads us to...

What the hell is “CIU Project?” Okay, okay, if anyone’s looked in the tags, you’ve probably noticed the recurring tag “ciu project” as well as tagging my Vaanti OC names with (CIU) at the end of it. CIU stands for “Choices Interconnected Universe” and is what I’m calling any- and everything that takes place in the same universe as this ES rewrite. There will be a more detailed post about the CIU and a general idea of my plans for it later on, but I wanted to wait to announce it until this first script was finished!

Have you written anything else in your CIU universe? “Choices Interconnected Universe Universe?” Okay, but seriously, this is the first official, “canon” work set in the CIU. I have written my Vaanu “Post-Credits Scene” during ESAPW, but consider that more of a loose “teaser” for the project than anything. Once I get to the script that scene’s meant to appear in, I will rewrite it and it may have a few tiny details different. Anything else I write in the CIU will be tagged with “ciu project” (no quotes) so you can find it easily there!

What other Choices books besides Endless Summer are going to be involved? I’ll be explaining that in the separate CIU post I plan to make soon, but in the meantime...

FADE IN:

INT. L.A.P.D. STATION - OFFICE - NIGHT (FIVE MONTHS AGO)

A man in a crisp suit, his back to the camera, scrolls through data about Rourke International on his computer screen; images of Jake, Lila, and Aleister appear beside a satellite view of the Caribbean Sea. Scattered on his desk are copies of the various dossier pages that Ian, Alyssa, Jake, and Estela had all found across La Huerta. The man sighs and rubs his forehead in frustration.

The door swings open, and a young auburn-haired policewoman rushes into the office, slightly out of breath. This is Jake’s sister, REBECCA MCKENZIE. The man looks up as she enters.

MAN: ...Officer McKenzie? I told you I’d let you know when I found something-

REBECCA: They’re pulling you off the case. You’re getting reassigned. I asked her not to, but-

MAN: Listen, Officer, I told you before: technically this case is well outside my jurisdiction. It’s not even in this country, let alone the city. I figured it was only a matter of time ‘til they wanted me working on something a bit closer to home.

REBECCA: But... what the hell am I supposed to...

MAN: Whatever I’m being reassigned to, I promise I’ll keep digging up leads on my own time. An entire island can’t just go missing with no one noticing; there’s definitely something fishy going on.

REBECCA: Yeah, and my brother was on that island. You’re a detective! Solving mysteries is your job!

MAN: Well, this mystery is tougher than most. But I promise we’ll figure it out eventually. He’s not the only person who’s gone missing in that area last month, besides.

He indicates the scattered pages on his desk.

MAN: Fifteen missing, including your brother. Don’t worry. You know I’ve got plenty of friends in high places.

Rebecca smiles, reassured by his words.

MAN: So what’s this new case I’m being reassigned to? I swear, if it’s another celebrity feud over nothing-

REBECCA: Nothing like that. You heard about the Tower Murders the other night?

MAN: Yeah, I thought Barton and Sanchez were handling that one-

Rebecca shakes her head.

REBECCA: Nobody can figure it out. Captain wants you. Specifically. There’s even rumors that... y’know... Li might be behind it.

MAN: Heh. Of course they think she’s behind it. If Li was behind everything everyone claimed she was, there’d have to be at least a dozen of her running around. 'Sides, murder isn’t her style.

He stands up from his desk, adjusting his suit and tie.

MAN: Tell the Captain I’ll do it.

REBECCA: You will? Just like that? But what about my brother?

MAN: I’m at a dead end for now anyway. I’ll find this murderer, get ‘em locked up, and be back on the La Huerta disappearances faster than you can say “Case closed.”

Rebecca laughs in spite of herself, then recovers and nods professionally.

REBECCA: Thank you, Detective. I’ll let the Captain know, and she’ll fill you in on the details. And... I appreciate what you’re doing for me. For my brother.

MAN: Of course. After all, there’s never been a case I couldn’t crack, and I’m not about to let that change!

Rebecca leaves the office. The man turns and faces the camera, adjusting his badge, which reveals his name: DETECTIVE DAVE REYES. He shakes his head, glancing back at the images on his computer once more.

DAVE: What the hell are you up to, Rourke?

FADE TO BLACK.

TO BE CONTINUED IN... MOST WANTED: THE HOLLYWOOD KILLER

It’s all connected...

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murdocsagaypirate · 6 years ago

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Murdoc and 2D’s G-Mix #9

as if 2Doc wasn’t confirmed enough already

Good fucking lord they are so consistent with parallel themes, the characterization MUST be so intentional. I fucking applaud who ever must be on this TEAM of people for that. All of this is practically undeniably parallel with VERY established characterize which, I feel like, makes it undeniable the further characterization presented in these songs are fucking canon. this shit is canon. it's killing me. Keep in mind this will be more reflective of past lore then current. Idk exactly when this came out, but it was after Murdoc went to Jail and before TNN if I’m not mistaken.

Frankie Knuckles - Your Love

When I'm with you I believe that your love is true When we love you turn me out, you know what to do Visions really blow my mind fantasizing all the time When your body's next to me, I begin to sweat When we touch I lose control, now you know what's next Fantasizing all the time, move your body next to mine Well, I need your love x 3 Don't make me wait too long Oh, I need your touch Don't make me wait for your love I can't let go x12

Damn dude who you think 2D’s thinkn of when he picked this song... hmmmmmm.......... i still can’t fucking beleive 2Doc is real.

Magazine -Shot By Both Sides I don’t understand this song and there are no Genius annotations to help me out. >:/ I feel like “the crowd” is an import part of the song meaning, but if I interpret it as talking about a single person (Murdoc) and not a group I can start to make sense of it. He “wormed” his way into someone's heart. “You live and learn, you have no choice”

Kevin Morby - I Have Been to the Mountain He’s pleading with someone to open up. He’s seen the worst and the best with him, but now he feels like he can’t see him at all.

The Human League - Being Boiled Oh damn dude, this song is about Buddhism and Animal Exploitation (something 2D would care about as a vegetarian). :.) I’m so fucking glad that still keep that in mind for 2D.

Whitney - No Woman “Catch my breath on the coast” gotta love those potential PB refs. “No Woman” as in “I don’t have a partner”.

I've been sleeping alone I've been going through a change I might never be sure I'm just walking in a haze I'm not ready to turn

The Jam - Going Underground He hates fame and doesn’t need riches. He’s happy with just being treated well. He want to just make music and be “underground”, not actually popular on such a mass scale... Yeah you’re past that point buddy sorry. This is great to compare with the actual Gorillaz song that would come out after this G-Mix “Magic City”. Very similar theme.

Junior A - Sleep Machine “Lots of love miss satellite“ workn in a song with that satellite metaphor like they so often use for Murdoc being just out of reach. ;) As has been VERY fucking established by now, he wants him to let him in. He wants to know “are you like me?” (like in Tranz, look it that) are you suffering like me. He explains he wants the good with the bad. he asks if it will be better this time around. This verse below is what he believes Murdoc is DOING, not what he wants him to do, other lyrics state otherwise.

So black out So black in Wash my love Off your skin Keep out the light Don't let it in Don't let it inside

Murdoc

Suicidal Tendencies - Institutionalized Holy shit did Murdoc just straight up write this. XD

Sometimes I try to do things And it just doesn't work out the way I wanted to And I get real frustrated And I'm like, I try hard to do it And I'm like, take my time And it doesn't work out the way I wanted to It's like, I concentrate on real hard but it doesn't work out And everything I do and everything I try it never turns out It's like, I need time to figure these things out There's always someone there going, 'Hey, Mike You know, we've been noticing You've been having a lot of problems lately ''You know, you should, maybe, get away And like, maybe you should talk about it, you'll feel a lot better' And I go, 'No, it's okay, you know I'll figure it out Just leave me alone I'll figure it out You know I'll just work it out myself' And they go, 'Well you know if you want to talk about it I'll be here you know and you'll probably feel a lot better If you talked about it, so why don't you talk about it' I go, 'No, I don't want to I'm okay, I'll figure it out myself' And they just keep bugging me and they just keep bugging me And it builds up inside

I mean. It’s kind of evidence this was still his attitude at this point. ... No wonder 2D's pissed at him not changing fast enough.

Akon - Locked Up ft. Styles P My dude got locked up and nobody will help him out. :(

Soundgarden- Rusty Dudes gonna get out of a situation he feels trapped in.

The Clash - Jail Guitar Door

Let me tell you 'bout Wayne and his deals of cocaine A little more every day Holding for a friend till the band do well Then the D.E.A. locked him away

An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete, didn't want no fame Gave all his money away "Well there's something wrong, it'll be good for you, son" And so they certified him insane

And then there's Keith, waiting for trial Twenty-five thousand bail If he goes down you won't hear his sound But his friends carry on anyway Fuck 'em!

Ahem. First ones, if that first verse is about Murdoc. ..Makes me wonder if he was actually smuggling knowingly. Replace “cocaine” with souls... >_> Seconds ones 2D... Doesn’t want fame, giving his money away echo’s the sentiment on 2D’s track “Going Underground” Murdoc’s friends do certainly just carry on without him at this point in time. Same theme coming up in Folsom Prison.

Sam Cooke - Chain Gang its about a chain gang. which is a bunch of prisons forced to do hard labor. They are tired. and wanna break the chains (dude why wasn’t Break the Chair by Fleetwood Mac on here. Do you not fucking like Fleetwood Mac, Murdoc?? Fuck you.)

Black Flag - Police Story FUCK THE POLICE.

Tom - Walts - Fish in the Jailhouse um... they’re serving fish in the jailhouse?

Thin Lizzy - Jailbreak ... There is gonna be a Jailbreak...... I frankly don’t think that’s gonna happen in lore though... Murdoc is a celebrity he can’t fucking get away with that... who knows, maybe it will be important for him to do so for some reason, and they clear his name after the fact.

Johnny Cash - Folsom Prison Dude’s depressed because he’s in jail and everyone keeps living their lives without him. :( But in the last paragraph, he talks about moving on with his life with a lot of intent to get away from the prison quickly. He wanna be better. :((

The Zombies - Care of Cell 44 It’s a song/letter addressed to someone in prison and how much the writer can’t wait for him to get out of jail and come back and then they’ll “kiss and makeup”... Considering Murdoc’s the one in jail I suppose we’re expected to flip perspective and see this as something Murdoc wishes would be said to him. :..((((

Bob Dylan - Hurricane About a black man getting blamed for a murder he didn’t commit because of racism. Probably meant to go along with the themes of Humanz and not.. Murdoc. Probably more of a Russel song (his mixes usually have some songs about racism) but it kept with the jail theme he had. Plus Murdoc wrote a lot of Humaz I’m sure he gives a shit about institutional racism too. He supports BLM, women, and the environment!! :..)

Summary: 2D misses Murdoc, there are hints of it being sexual (actually extremely overt hints in this one), he wishes he’d open up more, they’ve been through a lot, he’s lonely, he doesn’t like fame, yada yada yada, we know. Murdoc doesn’t want to be in jail, misses the band, wishes someone would help him and care about him, and is a guarded asshole and knows he’s a guarded asshole.

#lyric analysis #g-mix analysis

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joleen1234 · 7 years ago

Text

Heaven in Hiding - Part 4

Masterlist

I felt a tap on my shoulder and opened my eyes. I glanced over at Simon.

"We're here. Let's go." He said. I nodded and hopped out of the truck. The other Saviors already out of their cars. We were at a small community. They've been giving us grief for the last three weeks but this, this was it. We weren't coming to make friends or give them one more chance.

The man at the gate,and gate was giving it more credit-it was more like a crappy fence , looked at us. I held up my gun to point at his head.

"Open the gate." I said glaring at him. He looked back at me for a moment before complying. As soon as we walked in the few people that were there went back into their homes. The leader, he was a heavier guy, walked over to us.

"Can I help y'all?" He asked smugly.

"Actually you can." Simon said. "You can come with us."

"The hell I will." He said grabbing the knife from his back pocket. "We broke off the deal with you assholes." I pulled my gun from its holster and held it to my side

"Yeah. You can't do that. That's not how this works." I said walking over to him, my gun still lowered. "You don't decide shit. Only Negan does. What he says goes. You follow?" I asked as he held the knife out toward me. "Really? You think you can take me out with a little dinky ass knife?" I asked amused. I saw him quickly glance in another direction and without a second thought I turned and shot. One of his men was about to shoot. I got him first. I heard another gunshot. One of us shot him in the head before he turned. I growled and turned around pistol whipping the guy across the face.

"Get him." Simon said as the others went over and started to beat the crap out of him. I walked away and back toward the truck. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a few kids huddling together behind a bale of hay. I gave them a sympathetic glance as I walked to the truck and pulled out a towel. I cleaned the blood off my gun and stuck it back in its rightful place,my holster on my hip. After a few minutes I heard the wakie in the truck speak out.

"Did you get that asshole yet?" Negans voice crackled through the speaker. I grabbed the walkie and answered.

"They're having a bit of fun with him right now." I replied.

"Well well if it isn't Prue! Aren't you gonna have any fun?" I rolled my eyes.

"Had my fun. I already killed some jackass."

"You're a Cold hard bitch. I like that! Tell them to be at the spot as soon as possible."

"Fine." I said and put the walking down. I walked back over the the guys who were taking turns kicking the man. "Simon. Negan radioed. He said to get to the spot." He nodded.

"Alright. Enough fun. Grab him and throw him in the bed of the truck. We gotta go."

We got to the spot,which was just the middle of some random road. We parked the trucks and cars so the road would be blocked.

"What are we doing?" I asked a bit confused. I was left out of the loop because I was out of commission for a while.

"Remember that group who took out our satellite post?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"We found them. We're stopping them at every road Then meeting Negan to teach them all a lesson." He said. I nodded. I watched as Jim and Steven pulled the bloodied man out from the back of our truck. They dropped him on the ground then stood by their car. I stood next to Simon as we all waited. It felt like forever before an RV started to make its way down the road. They slowly came to a stop and eventually came out,with guns. Even the kid they had with them was holding one. The man who came out first held up his hands and gun to show he wasn't going to attack.

Simon spoke first.

"He's someone who's with a whole lot of other someone's who didn't listen."

"We can make a deal." The guy said in a very grizzly tone. "Right here. Right now."

"That's right." Simon said. "We can. Give us all your shit. Well probably have to kill one of you. That's just the way it is. But then we can move forward to some business. All you have to do is listen."

"Yeah," the guy said pulling his gun down into his hands at the ready. I gripped my gun in the holster,ready to go but Simon slowly put his hand out to get me to stop. I listened and put my hand down, trusting his judgement. "That deal ain't gonna work for us. Actually I was gonna ask for all your stuff scept I wasn't gonna kill any of you. Any more of you." I sighed and looked over when I heard a paint can being shook. Jim opened the cap and put an X on the guys torso.

"Sorry. My deal is the only deal." Simon told them. "We don't negotiate."

"Me and my people are leaving." The man from the RV said.

"Okay friend." Simon said waving them off. " plenty of ways to get where your going."

"You want to make today. You're last day on earth?" He said before getting back in the RV. I scoffed at his sheer disregard to what he was saying. What a cocky asshole.

"No. But that's a great thing to bring up. What if it's the last day for you. Or someone you love? Hold those people in that RV close. Because you never know when the last day is." There was a long pause.

"You too." The man said before getting back into the RV. They slowly backed up and drove away. Simon kicked the guy on the ground again and chuckled.

"Let's get this asshole back in the truck. We gotta hang his ass up."

"What?" I asked confused.

"Negan wants to scare the crap out of this group. We're hanging this poor fuck from a bridge a few miles the other way."

"Weird. But okay." I said. "Come on then. Let's get going."I said and we all started to get packed and off we went.

It didn't take long to get to the bridge. And I watched the guys tie the rope and put the guy on the ledge.

"Please." The guy said softly.

"You're still alive? Props to you." I said before pushing him off hearing a snap as he's body hung there. "This is actually a really good idea. I wish we could see their faces when they notice the X." I said turning to Simon.

"Simmer down kid. Let go. We have to meet up with the rest in the woods. That's where the real fun is gonna start." I smirked.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

We pulled up to a bunch of other cars that were parked all around to form a big circle. I got out of the truck and walked over to the others. Negan walked over to me making me have to look up at him. He loved a good power trip.

"You wanna do this with me Doll?" He asked.

"Why me?" I asked him. "Simons much scarier then I am."

"Oh he's doing his part. But I'd really like you to be up close and personal with this shit. I know you got a thing for gore." He said, sucking his teeth. He was right. The first time I was with Negan and he had Lucille take care of someone, it was amazing. He saw it in my eyes and hasn't let me forget it.

"I guess I can't say no ,can I?" I asked and he shook his head. "Okay. Fine." He smirked.

"Alrighty. It's gettin dark so they should be here soon. Probably not gonna take that big ass RV through here so Me and Prue are gonna grab that and bring it back," he said walking over to the middle of the circle. "And park that piece of shit right here. That's when the fun starts." Negan went on to explain the plan. A lot of people assume Negans all muscle but he was smart. Almost scary smart when it came to this type of thing.

Soon the sun set and everyone got in their place. Negan and I were standing near the road the RV was going to come from. I looked over at Negan, the moonlight illuminated his face and I could feel my cheeks heat up. As soon as I saw his face start to turn I quickly looked away. No one could deny his looks. Man or woman. He was handsome but no way did I want to be with a guy who had a bunch of wives.

"You gettin excited?" Negans voice said breaking the silence.

"W-what?" I asked looking over at him.

"For the blood bath that's gonna happen. You excited?" He said with a cocky smirk.

"Of corse I am." I smirked back. I wasn't going to let him see how weak he actually made me. I wasn't that shy and nervous girl anymore. Just then the head lights started to peek over the road. I took a breath and ran out to the road. Waving my hands like I needed help. The RV slowed to a stop and a guy opened the door.

"Are you okay miss? Do you require assistance?" The guy asked as he reached out his hand.

"T-thank you for stopping." I said shyly as I took his hand.

"Of corse I couldn't let a damsel in distress out here at night." I smirked and yanked him out of the RV. Before he could even react I pulled my gun from my hip and knocked him across the face with it,causing him to fall back.

"Well well such a nice guy to stop and help an innocent,what did you say? Damsel in distress? The fuck are you?" Negan asked amused as he walked out. The guy quickly put his hands up to show he wasn't going to fight back. Negan chuckled and quickly zip tied his wrists together.

"Keys." I said holding out my hand. He didn't answer, probably from fear.

"Come on now. The damsel here asked you a fucking question." Negan said as he picked him up from the ground.

"Ignition. I-I left them there."

We got in the RV and Negan tossed the guy on the ground then took the wheel. I sat next to him, pointing my gun to the guy. He just stayed where Negan put him. Eventually we got to the clearing and parked. Negan grabbed the guy and pulled him up. I opened the RV door and saw the guy get thrown passed me. A few other Saviors grabbed him and made him kneel off to the side. Negan motioned for me to shut the door and I did.

"Shouldn't be much longer. Ten minutes tops." Negan said as he sat on the small couch.

"So what's the whole plan?" I asked as I leaned against the drivers seat.

"I'm just gonna wing it. One of em is dying tonight. I know that. They pulled too much shit to get away scotch free." He said rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger of his left hand.

"Yeah. They took out Timmys whole squadron." I said with a sigh. "I think you're being too soft. Only killing one of them." I mumbled. He glanced over at me and sighed.

"As much as I'd fucking love to see all them dead, they aren't any use to us dead." I nodded. He was right. They couldn't gather supplies or anything if they were dead and as he often said people were a necessity. I leaned back and put my head against the window and closed my eyes for a second. We've been out since the ass crack of dawn setting this up and I was beat. I felt a slight movement in the seat and opened an eye to see Negan up and walking, more like pacing. Was he nervous? Nah. Probably just bored. He wasn't one for staying still.

A few moments passed and I heard the gradual increase of whistles. It was time. That means they were close. I stretched out then stood next to Negan. Simons voice was bellowing through the thing walls of the RV.

"It's show time Doll," he said with a dark smile across his face. I nodded as I looked out the curtain covered windows. I could see silhouettes of people being forced to kneel. It was time. Two soft knocks hit the door and Negan pushed the door open.

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Tag List!

@scifi-bi

@thepockyfreak

#negan's thirst squad #the walking dead negan #negan fic #negan x oc #twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan #negan imagine

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dabbledrabbleprose · 7 years ago

Text

21. Stars

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Despite Jesse’s assurances, Hanzo was genuinely surprised at how quickly McCree set up camp. The sun was still setting behind them when McCree shouted that he was done. Hanzo turned away from the spectacular landscape to look back at their little camp, which now consisted of the truck, two chairs, and a little portable solar stove, all set up in a flat rocky area clear of sagebrush.

“…That’s it?”

“Told you there weren’t much to it.”

“Where’s the tent?”

“No need for a tent. It ain’t gonna rain, and there ain’t much in the way of bugs this time of year.”

“So we are sleeping on the ground?”

“Hell no,” Jesse snorted and started fiddling with the stove, setting a small pot over it and cracking open two cans of what appeared to be some kind of store-bought stew. “Just ‘cause there ain’t bugs don’t mean there ain’t snakes. Also the ground has rocks, and I’ve got a mattress in the back of the truck, along with solar thermal blankets that have been charging the whole drive here.”

The red light of sunset was rapidly fading into purples and blues, and Hanzo headed back toward McCree and away from the plateau edge. “Why no campfire? I thought that was an essential part of camping.”

“Too dry. One poorly-timed spark could set off a grass fire, and I wasn’t planning on ending this evening with setting half of Arizona on fire. The stove’s fine. I’ve got dinner cooking now and we can even make some proper s’mores over it.”

“Ah,” Hanzo took a seat in the folding camping chair. “You have told me of these.”

“Your sweet tooth will love ‘em. Guaranteed.”

He tended to the pot, stirring slowly, and only stopping to turn on two battery-powered lanterns as the last of the light faded. Dinner was ready quickly, they were only reheating canned stew after all, and Hanzo was smart enough to eat without complaint. The evening darkened into true night, and Jesse got them started on s’mores.

“It’s better over an actual fire,” Jesse reluctantly admitted. “You get the marshmallow right down by the coals and let it roast slow and even… Some people like to just light theirs on fire and get a hard, crunchy outer layer on it. I think those people are out of their damn minds. The burnt flavor ruins everything.”

“You have put a lot of thought into this,” Hanzo said. McCree was right. Hanzo’s sweet tooth had betrayed him once again and he’d loved the marshmallow and chocolate treat. He wasn’t nearly as fond of the melted marshmallow he was currently trying to pull out of his beard.

“Every kid in the U.S. has an opinion on lightly toasted verses burnt marshmallow. It’s a fact of life. I count myself on Team Lightly Toasted.”

“Hm,” Hanzo frowned, all his attention on trying to get the last of the sticky white sugar out his beard. He was having moderate success between licking his fingers and using thumbnail to scrape through the coarse hair. “I suppose I’ll have to try both to see how I like it.”

“Honey, if you tell me you like crispy burnt marshmallows, I’m afraid I’m going to have to never talk to you again.”

“A shame,” he ran his fingers through his beard a few more times, finally satisfied that he’d gotten it all out. “I will miss hearing your…”

Hanzo’s voice trailed off as he turned his attention away from what he was doing and finally looked upward.

With the last purple light from the sunset finally gone, the cloudless sky had been unfurled in full glory. The moon was a thin sliver of a crescent, leaving nothing to hide the fathomless multitude of stars that filled the sky, highlighted by the line of the Milky Way, slashing horizon to horizon.

Hanzo stared in silence for several long minutes before McCree finally interrupted him with a soft laugh.

“Enjoying the view?”

Hanzo looked quickly over at Jesse and was grateful that the darkness hid his blush.

“Forgive me. I’ve just…I’ve never seen so many stars.”

“I was wondering when you’d notice. That’s why I picked this spot, actually. It’s one of last places in the U.S. unaffected by light pollution.”

“It’s incredible,” Hanzo turned his attention back to the stars. He heard McCree get up beside him and start cleaning up, not seeming to mind that Hanzo was distracted. “I had no idea there was so much color…I always thought the night sky was just black, but this…”

“Tell me what you see, darlin’,” McCree put everything away in the truck, then moved his chair closer to Hanzo’s and took his hand. “I wanna hear it through your eyes.”

Hanzo made a snort of laughter. “That does not make sense, but I will tell you anyway,” he leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back and the sky take up his entire vision. “The colors…not just black. Purple and blue. But not just navy, there are so many different blues. There’s even green closer to the horizon. And the Milky Way…I’ve never seen it so clearly before. And if you let your eyes relax and unfocus, you can see the movement of all the satellites. I had no idea there were so many.”

A flash of white streaked across the sky and Hanzo gasped.

“Did you see that?”

“Sure did, sweetheart,” Jesse said, but he only had eyes for Hanzo, watching him with the same wonder that Hanzo was giving to the Arizona sky.

They sat beneath the stars, talking long into the night until a sharp, high yowl split the night. Hanzo sat up stiffly, dropping McCree’s hand to reach for a bow that wasn’t there.

“What was that?”

“Coyotes,” McCree said easily, unconcerned. “Wanna turn in for the night?”

“Hm. That might not be a bad idea,” he replied, looking in the direction the sound had come from with unease.

“Don’t worry about the coyotes,” Jesse reassured him. “They’ll leave us alone. Most they might do is sniff around the campsite and move on when they don’t find any free food.”

He led Hanzo to the truck and dropped the tailgate, then paused, thinking.

“Huh. Might not be a bad idea to put our shoes inside the truck, though. Just in case.”

“Hm. A wise idea,” Hanzo said. “Especially if your boots smell like something long dead.”

“Aw, Han. You’re killin’ me, here.”

“Not as much as your foot odor.”

McCree put a hand to his heart as if shot, but kicked his boots off and threw them in the truck anyway, followed by his belt and gloves, though he kept the hat on. Hanzo followed suit, tossing his own boots in the truck, then followed McCree to the bed of the truck, stepping gingerly over the rocky ground in his socked feet.

It was surprisingly cozy in the bed of the truck. The mattress was soft and the nanofibers in the solar blankets stayed comfortably warm, and Hanzo was even warmer when he settled down beside Jesse, curling beside him to look up once again at the star strewn sky.

“Thank you, Jesse,” he said softly. “This is incredible.”

McCree smiled and slid an arm around him. “Thank you kindly, darlin’. I appreciate it.”

“I am sorry I gave you such grief over this.”

“Nah. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

Unable to resist the bait, Hanzo leaned over to kiss him long and deep, both a little breathless by the time their lips finally parted.

“How was that?” He asked, allowing himself to sound a little smug as he leaned over McCree.

“It’s a start,” Jesse grinned, eyes sparkling in the starlight.

“Then let me finish it,” he dove in for another kiss, sliding into Jesse’s embrace, happy to be alone with the man he loved and the stars above.

#31DaysofMcHanzo #Overwatch #McHanzo #McCree #Hanzo #1300 words #My Drabbles #Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh I am so done with this one #I'm not happy with it but I'm throwing it up so I can get roadtrip done and then get back to Winter Shenanigans

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years ago

Text

World War III

1. I said "there's a remote" at least 10 times because I'm not a control freak but I'm also not trusting either. So i know i put an alternative to a satellite on land and I know I put a remote in case who we trusted didn't use the missle.

Now she remembers how i told her to turn the MISSLE on and off because i expected people to trust me and allow me to speak and not tell me im too stupid to not create a remote for a missle on NORTH KOREA when i lived in NEW MEXICO, USA.

Im not gonna say how. But there was also clue words this week to help her remember. But okay

2. So instead of saving the world, the world learned How to save itself. And that's better.

Our last war. And the whole world joined in. We are now completing WWIII. The best war ever!!!! That we finally are winning. The First World War that every country joined to fight and protect the world. 🌎 it was a real world war not a prissy fit over having the most money or the kings and queens (gods and goddesses) in the world.

3. The remote. I gave to the one person in the world that i knew for a fact that would kill her clone sister. No description no nothing. An active missle and it would be done 100%

4. The remote had no labels. I requested that it just look like an old hearing aid type device which i was told it was but was really a listening device we had in the cup above our sofa in NYC. But i didn't live with my parents and I didn't speak to my Uncle unless it was about is son or something wrong with the living conditions. I got my parents and neighborhood involved. I knew the consequences. So i never spoke about my days or nights and what i done in secret except on walks wirh our mouths covered or turn around and point at something random or look at the ground with our hair covering our faces, we coded/hid everything my friends and i did and even said.

4. She tested the first button then called North Korea to see what happened. The satellite had a little door which was unimportant. But it would indicate the sare was off. She was trying to figure out the turn on code which would been simple enough in a frustrated move.

5. As it was North Korea was invaded by Trump. 20 minutes into her struggle. So Kim Jong-Un unplugged it as per his instructions.

6. She understood the invasion but we needed the missle more than ever. So she tried to get him to turn it on. He refused because the satellite door closed. So they thought it was Broke. No. Its a dam on and off switch. Look its on!! look its off! SIMPLE look out the window!!

7. He wouldn't turn on the missle which would then turn on both the missle and satellite by default. SIMPLE.

8. She couldn't figure out the remote! They said it didn't exist! And no one would tell me what was going on. And the remote wouldn't plug in a missle launcher!! Im fucking sorry world!! 🌎

9. She had no instructions and no labels. She was to tell Kimmy she was experimenting. So he could tell her how to label it if she felt it was safe. With a number system only she remembered. But he wouldn't answer the phone because he got a new phone number for the missle room. She didn't know -- it just rang and rang. By the time she figured it was safe enough to interrupt the missle Trump invaded and Kimmy went to the bunker!!

10. She just tonight hit the button that notifies him what is happening to the machine which she hadn't had a chance to do before he unplugged it.

11. Everyone thought the priority was to fix the unbroken satellite. While holding hostage the Trump invader.

12. I can protect Ethan with falling planes that I wreck into with a Chinook i use my palms to propel on the dash board. I can run a war from a bedroom with nothing but my heart and soul and heal millions of dead. BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOCK DOWN A MISSLE LAUNCHER INTO REMOTE MODE to go out for tea OR TELL IF A SATELLITE IS NOT BROKE. that is what i was told multiple times. And not by North Korea. My own fucking team that has studied every fucking thing I've done and seen i make Plans A - D just to walk myself to the bathroom. And assures me in the midst of a war that i am being throughly researched so we win. "Go get 'em champ!"

13. So last night i found William still working on the fucking satellite who said the piece was being made and it was 10 fucking days. For an on and off switch that was cosmetic and the actual switch was 1 foot inside the satellite in a bullet proof box that could never break. And hes begging to doubt anyone was actually making it.

14. This is bullsjit i said. Its not even fucking broken. I'm having a fit. Look at this fucking shit and i magnet in 18 satellites. "Get what you want" scream at one guy inside an old 1980s one i called Direct TV because it had a 2 way camera on it. So I use part of his to make a bullet shooter because this shit... Was on my last nerve. And i shoot EVERY GODDAM thing i can't see.

15. People from other people were calling the International Space Station asking "does she have a problem today?"

16. Yes And every galaxy was losing their evil. Cause Fuck i needed help so did they.

17. William finally finished not fixing the satellite and I propped open the button to turn it into a two seater. And we went to find out who i killed in the International Space Station. 45. So the 2/3 unhappy due to 10% were happy we found.

18. Truth or Consequences would take 5 and a half minutes to complete. Now it takes 6 and a half seconds. William sped it up. And set it to the core.

19. My GPS range is only 105 miles. Now 102.

World War III is almost over. It will be over -- should be -- by the time that the last time zone enters 2020.

Its been Hell.

We can all see that while us world leaders and I the smartest and bravest of any galaxy can still be overtaken by one troll.

Which is why we must always remember to work together.

My plans had no flaws. It was prepared for absolutely everything.

20. Even air war. The planes were all bullet proof and battle proof except the Pilot Windows. I designed the eQ2 fleet. Convinced her that they would open the windows like WWII planes for fun and should. Because nothing in the world would be better so don't waste money on extra bullet proofing. We gained one jelly filled body, only lost one good one arm and one jelly filled body (due to water and Tree healing) and millions of evil and clones. And I also used those planes to protect Ethan as they crashed and William protected Logan's twin today as i was busy.

21. I also designed the Chinook since 1998 in 2008 i made upgrades.

World War Three was a success for Planet Earth, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, Jupiter, San Frensesno, and Pluto plus many more including Mars and Venus.

And it was only fought on Earth all others remained Peaceful.

And each planet saw how to protect their planet so now in the future they can be as protected as us. I asked them not to intervene as i don't know their planets. Except in dire emergency. They didn't. So we did a fucking good job.

22. Pluto we designed War assistance together so we knew them. Since 1994 they have been here to protect us. That is why it became uncategorized as a planet.

So Happy New Year. I'm sorry NYC I missed it once again. It's only 10 pm here

Im down to 98 miles.

What have I said?

Our plan of defense and protection failed.

We continued to defend as we were attacked and successfully protected.

...

We failed at working together. So we got more people to help us. And when that was scary, we called Pluto and gave them the honor they deserve. And they loved it.

So ask for help.

"Hey babe help me with the dishes" and talk about your day you'll probably end up in giggles if you talk about me.

"Hey babe. Finish reading that paperwork I was sent on missiles will you" and you may just end up saving the world.

"Hey doofus, remind me every once in a while that you died in 1998. That would help me a whole lot to figure shit out on my own and beat amnesia because i been beat in the head too much" and you may Just never know to fucking say that!!! So don't let your soulmate trick you into saying something stupid!

So ask for help when you know you need it.

The world knew how much they wanted to help. Did y'all know how much we needed it? In the end... We really didn't. But the world needed to help. And we needed to help them. Us.

My Twin Brother doesn't drive 362 mph on training days because we like to take the slow lane.

We wanted every one to be happy and safe as fast as possible.

That was a downfall as soon as Gary Trump found out how to regrow the penis I shot off in 1984 on purpose, cause he is a pervert. He thought he could finish taking over the world with his greed.

And what happened class?

He began to. And we dominated him. We would gotten to the satellite and we would still fought the way we had even if he was still alive. But the healing and damage would been much greater.

We could have handled it easy. We had mild shit. Y'all if I25 had air war which did until I announced no GPS or lights and the neighborhood commander retreated and admitted defeat and announced surreandered.

I could had had the planes fall to protect y'all. And still had time for Wichita Texas with brothers Ethan, Logan and Ezekiel.

I pulled William and Matt out for their sakes. They needed a break, anyway. It wasn't punishment it was to protect them as they were targets. Sure its easy to heal but come on. Why for when your mom and dad are here for the first time in thirty years? Don't go to work. It's safer and healthier on Earth... Or was supposed to be for William.

Yet a bad thing worked fine in the end.

Because we all began caring in ways we hadn't before or in a long time.

For the first time Mr McNabb lost a child. Before he never had the loss his children did when he was taken in as a hostage then human trafficking victim. So he finally learned the sadness his children felt all their lives when thinking about their parents. The craziness he thought he saw was actually beauty of the mind and heart working together not to just survive but help others as well and to help them heal. And now he sees his sons not only as fierce fearless warriors but also as healers that are gentle and kind. And he can recognize the sadness and fear he kept hidden all these years. And finally let it go.

Tonight if you have Pluto with you. I am on the west mesa near the Belen airport.

Up here your loved one will stay the longest.

If you are evil. Your last moments can be spent here and may be finally for once your greedy heart can begin to grow. Much like the Grinch and you have a chance to save your soul

I am the only Jesus you will ever know.

I am at 70 miles range now. At 1050 pm

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