#still getting the hang of drawing him and stephen but i do think that the pencil-and-paper seems to do better by me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subcon-crybaby-charlie · 4 months ago

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To start off we have our two main characters Spencer and Billy. This post will be primarily about Spencer and his relation ships with the other characters most singular posts will be like this more so just detailing how I would personally handle the character. And Spencer since he's technically the main character while Billy is supposed to be the secondary main character I'm doing him first.

First off a life before living in LA in the show his dad mentions there from cowtown USA, I have actually looked this up just to see if that's the name of an actual place and it's not it's very specifically just another way to describe a cattle town or places that have a lot of livestock. I have decidedly made him from somewhere in the Midwest, mostly I feel like somewhere in Kansas namely because there is one or two horror films about tornadoes it could work for developing an admiration for horror. Plus he just seems like the type of kid that would stand outside to record a tornado. I also feel like this is what draws Shanilla to him as a friend, because she gives horse girl energy to me for some reason. So she could be genuinely interested in like living on a farm, Spencer didn't actually live on a farm he just do a lot of people who did.

Oh also my Spencer has a pet cat, it is an orange and white cat and his name is King, technically it's Stephen King but I feel like that's copyrighted so it's just shortened to King. King is a retired Barn cat and he used to be feral. King is technically supposed to be the family pet, but he warms up more to Spencer so he is just Spencer's cat. Also, King can see Billy, most animals can see Billy. Most animals also do not like his presence.

Spencer's relationship with Billy is more so of a sibling dynamic, with Billy obviously being the older brother that does not want Spencer in his space or around at all at least until he gets used to him. I kind of imagine Billy's relationship with all of the kids kind of just being like Eda with luzAnd her friends where he starts off being like not very close to them but he hangs around them because they're the only people he knows of that can see him, and at first he kind of maybe this is them a little because he's like 19 (technically he'd be almost 30 if he were alive but who's counting) and there 14 year olds they're practically babies to him. But as time goes on and he starts to appreciate their presence more he starts to get closer to the kids. Mainly Spencer's and Spencer kind of lives with him. Chanella regime and Mallory are his friends, he meets Rajiv first and she meets the rest of his friend group through them. again relief will have his own separate post because I changed him significantly that's no longer the same character same goes for Mallory and Shanilla though Shanilla I changed less about and Mallory didn't have a lot to start with.

His parents and sister are kind of the same his parents are out a lot due to work and he's left alone with his sibling Jessica is kind of just basically the same she's 11 she thinks she knows everything. One thing I did change about the parents though is their hobbies Spencer's mom like she still cuts hair but mostly just her kids she's already shown in the show to have a talent for baking so I can imagine it being a dream of hers to have her own bakery meanwhile hugh was exactly the same he wants to be a mechanic but he sucks at it he sucks really bad at it no one has the heart to tell him though.

I also changed or rather elaborated on why Ponzi hates Spencer, because there's no real reason outside of Spencer just shows divergent traits it seems, by the way my version of Spencer is on some level autistic, so I decided that the exact reason Ponzi hates Spencer so much is because as soon as he found out he was related to Billy he decided to make his life a living hell because of the whole broadcasted talent show thing that Billy was on and the fact that Billy crushed his dreams.

Now one to his design, with my version I wanted to make him resemble really a little more you'll see this more when I show my Billy design. This is mostly in the sense that I made their face shapes more similar, also my Spencer has a mullet because why not I also turned his T-shirt into a short sleeved hoodie. Smaller details that I added to his design are the gap in his teeth, there's no real reason for this I just thought it looked neat, and freckles. I mostly just felt these smaller aspects would give a little more life to his design, I saw some edits two years ago that showed Spencer with freckles and it made him look like a completed design to me so that's why they were added.

So I have some concept sketches, I have a sketchbook primarily to doodle my versions of the DTMG characters and related OCS. I blame ginganinjaowo(joking). These doodles are done in water based marker and usually aren't as detailed as they would be in my primary sketchbook. And alcohol marker drawings that are more accurate representations.

There are a couple Billys in some of these so enjoy those as a little teaser for his post ;3

#dtmg #au #reboot #dtmr #spencer wright #bjc #billy joe cobra #long post #mostly text #redesigns

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 5 months ago

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You inspired me to start drawing again after years of thinking I was not good enough, Nyarla. Thank you.

I— I— I'm

😭❤️

I'm so so SO happy for you. I'm not sure how long ago you left this since there aren't time-stamps on asks (unless I'm an idiot and missed them somehow), but I hope you're still drawing and doing art.

And remember two things going foreward. One: IMPOSTER SYNDROME IS REAL AF. Some of the best artists and minds, now and throughout history, have doubted their abilities. Van Gogh doubted himself and faced criticism throughout his life, and is still one of the most celebrated artists in history. Stephen King threw out his manuscript for Carrie and may have never gotten it published had his wife not read it and encouraged him to keep going. We are always our own worst critics.

Two, do it for yourself, and not for anyone else. If you're doing art primarily for your enjoyment, because you love creating, then the opinions of others hold no power over you. Praise is nice, but if you're doing it for praise then you can and often will burn out. If you're doing it for the pure love of the creative process and the enjoyment of making something new that no one else but you could make, then it takes off all the pressure and allows you to enjoy what you're doing without any hang-ups. You create the art you want to see, write the story you want to read, and more of your heart goes into it. That will always shine through in the finished product.

Stephen King has been a huge influence in my creative process since I was a tiny little unknowable horror writing silly little ghost and monster stories, and I feel like he summed it up better than anyone in his On Writing memoir:

That goes for more than just writing. It goes for any passion or aspiration you have. Whether you feel you're "good enough" or not, you'll never get anywhere unless you start. Progress and improvement comes with practice, and fear is the enemy of progress. Fulfillment doesn't come from others' opinions, but from your own perseverance and passion for your craft.

Thank you for this. I'm beyond happy that you feel inspired to create again, and I hope nothing ever comes in the way of it again.

#asks #inspiration

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lady-strange0 · 1 year ago

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astrantia, blue star and aster

By: Lady_Strange0

Words: 2470

Rating: General Audiences

Published on AO3: 30/05/2023

Relationships: America Chavez & Stephen Strange, America Chavez & Wong, Stephen Strange & Wong

Summary:

“You know, in Hindi faith, hibiscus is associated with the goddess Kali who embodies nothing less than the force of life itself. I think that’s you, and your lively energy in my life,” Stephen said after a moment.

The young girl pulls back out of the hug and looks at him, and smirks before saying “you know you info dump fun facts when you are nervous or in an emotionally charged situation.”

-or-

America loves drawing and painting flowers, and Stephen is a supportive dad who likes seeing his daughter happy.

Inspired by this post

https://www.tumblr.com/changes-fandoms-too-much/717769219089006593?source=share

It started off with doodles in the margins of her notebooks. Stephen and Wong had decided early on after America moved to the sanctum that she should be attending a normal high school to make up for the years of teaching she’s missed. And Stephen was enjoying being a tutor in both magic homework as well as her normal maths and physics homework.

He had just been explaining quadratic equations to America when he noticed the little images at the sides of her notes and homework. Simple doodles of flowers and stars, as well as some of a small familiar basset hound, Bats. They were all done in blue pen and often half-minded. He couldn’t help but notice though, that among the messy pictures there was also a drawing of a flower with large round petals and intricate lines in the middle for the seeds. Almost like a poppy, but he couldn’t tell for certain, his botany knowledge went as far as magical remedies that used flowers required, but nothing outside of that really. Stephen also didn’t know much about art aside of the artworks he bought for his house back when he had money to throw around, but he could still tell that America had real talent if she chose to channel it there.

America could tell that Stephen had zoned out while talking and asked, “what? Maths now even too boring for you to bother explaining? Cause then at least we are in agreement.”

“No, no. I was just thinking about something. Those little doodles are very nice. Do you enjoy drawing or was this just from being bored in classes?”

The girl blushed and ducked her head, “thanks, I don’t know, I liked it when I was young, but then the bee incident happened, and I just never had the time or interest to pick it up again.”

“Well, I think it would be lovely to see some more of your art, we could hang it on the fridge.” America just giggled in response, and they went back to doing her homework together.

Stephen didn’t think about it again, until a week later. He was returning some books to the library in Kamer-Taj that America had borrowed and had asked him to bring back for her as she was going for pizza with her school friends. As Wong was now the Sorcerer Supreme, he no longer worked in the library and the new librarian was even stricter on the ‘no portals in the library’ rule then he had been, and had set up some wards to prevent them. Stephen could get around them but he just didn’t couldn’t be bothered.

Just as he was about to walk up to Mirou, the new librarian, he saw the corner of a sheet of paper sticking out the side of the old book, he opened it to find a beautifully sketched drawing of what he thought to be a Gerbera flower inside, this time done in pencil and shaded to look soft and realistic. He moved to sit down at one of the tables to study the drawing further, it was on a A4 sheet that had evidently been ripped from a school notebook, the printed lines still visible in the back. He removed the drawing from the book and closed it. Sling ring in hand, he opened a portal to his bedroom and placed the drawing on his desk.

Over the next few weeks, he keeps spotting drawings and sketches on loose sheets and starts collecting them in a pile in his study. Soon after he starts to leave blank white printer paper around, the drawings start appearing on them instead. America doesn’t mention the missing drawings, but Stephen is certain she knows he has them.

He wasn’t even the one who bought the coloring pencils and watercolours, they weren’t there one day and then they were the next day. He spots America in their living room sitting on the floor in front of the low table with Bats on the sofa behind her, using them. She was sketching small flowers and attempting different techniques to fill them. He also sees that she is watching a YouTube video on her laptop explaining different types of brushstrokes and how to implement them.

America presents him with a stunning watercolour drawing of a collection of small yellow, pink and purple hibiscus’ with a small smile two days later. “Stephen, I think it’s time for me to actually give you a drawing of mine, instead of you stealing and hiding them like troll.”

“Trolls actually aren’t kleptomaniacs, they usually just take things when their homes are in danger and the stolen things are part of the danger. So,-“

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” America said exasperatedly, and Stephen just grinned at her. “Anyways, I want you to have this, yellow hibiscus represents happinesses and sunshine, because you helped me find happiness in a universe that isn’t my own, the pink hibiscus represents love of all kinds but especially familiar and platonic love, and the purple hibiscus shows mystery and knowledge. They remind me of you.”

Had someone asked Stephen ten years ago if he ever wanted kids, let alone a mulitversal traveling, pizza obsessed, and slightly disaster-prone teenage girl, he would have sent them to the psychiatric ward of the hospital. Yet, here he was in the kitchen of their haunted mansion, with a sentient red cloak around his shoulders and a ghostly dog floating into the room, and America starring at him expectedly as she held out one of the best gift he has ever been given, and Stephens eyes start watering.

“Th-thank you, America, they are beautiful,” he was really trying to not cry, with the love and happiness filling him from deep within, “I know the perfect place for it.”

With that he magiced up a small dark wooden photo frame with small carved swirls and curves on it, and placed the painting behind the glass with shaky hands. As he lifted his eyes from the picture frame, he was surprised to see tears in her eyes too, and a quivering lip.

“Hey, hey are you okay, Star?” They were both equally surprised at the nickname, but America looked into Stephens eyes as if looking for something before she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Yes, I am. I really, really am.”

Stephen hugged her back one trembling hand going to her head as the other moved up and down her back.

The young girl pulls back out of the hug and looks at him, and smirks before saying “you know you info dump fun facts when you are nervous or in an emotionally charged situation.”

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly, carefully picked up the frame and moved out of the room, before he’d start getting ‘emotionally charged’ again.

The frame now sits on his bedside table.

In hindsight, the acrylic paint may have been a mistake on Stephens side. Actually the paint wasn’t the problem, it was the movie that was. She had used the paint to draw on virtually everything. The cardboard boxes from the attic were covered in stars and galaxies and planets, her sketchbooks were filled with paintings and still life’s and kinda off looking portraits, as well as the floor and table, but they didn’t look intentional. So, he forgives her and cleans up the mess with a quick flick of his wrist.

See again, the paint wasn’t the problem, the movie was. They had set up weekly movie nights for her to catch up on movies and tv shows she had missed while traveling across the multiverse. Their current favorites list included ‘Star Wars’, ‘The Greatest Showman’, and Disney’s ‘Tangled’. And ‘Tangled’ was the problem.

A girl who loves to paint and draw watching a movie about a girl who paints her entire room and ceiling in stars and flowers? Yeah, it was bound to happen.

So, it comes as no surprise when he comes home from Kamer-Taj to a home cooked dinner as a begging strategy. Actually the dinner was a surprise, he had expected puppy eyes, from both her and Bats.

Yes, he says yes, when she asks about painting the walls of her bedroom. Stephen helps her pick out some more paints and brushes at the shops, and then assists in moving the furniture from her room.

It’s a large room with big windows on one wall and window seats below them. Random colourful pillows are spread across the seats and the bed. The walls are a soft blue colour matched by the large wooden bed with a blue canopy from which glow in the dark stars are hanging. The thick curtains danced as they moved through the air and out of the room, the soft white carpet rolled itself up and walked out and the furniture shrunk until they could be picked up like doll house pieces. Leaving an empty room for her to paint and decorate as she pleases.

It starts with the wall opposite to where her bed was, she paints a green field with flowers of all kinds, roses, lily’s, yellow coneflowers, pink and white daisies, poppies of every colour as well as flowers which Stephen did not recognize. Upon asking she told him stories of the plants from her home planet, the way some smelt like chocolate, while others would bloom to be blue and purple and pink, how some would be used for special medicines or in her moms food. Stephen loved listing to her talk about her home, and see that despite everything she has been through she still has so much love to share.

The next day, he wakes up to his room with a key being missing, the Cloak, and Bats, but he has started sleeping in Americas bed rather than his. But the Cloak missing was bizarre, so he pulled himself from the bed, and wandered down the hallway in just his pyjama pants and an old T-shirt. It’s the sounds of quiet music that leads him to the ajar door of Americas bedroom. Stephen knocks and upon getting a quick “come in” enters.

What he was expecting when he walked into the room, he didn’t know, but he was surprised to see America sitting on top of the Cloak floating quite high to the ceiling as she is painting fluffy white clouds to above her.

“You know, Michelangelo almost went blind after spending four years painting the ‘Sistine Chapel’, because paint kept dripping in his eyes, so can you please wear some goggles or something,” is all Stephen said once he understood the situation.

“Apparently the info dumping is not exclusive to emotionally charged moments, but also when you are still half-asleep,” America giggled from where she was lounging on the Cloak with a paint brush in one hand and a plastic cup of white paint in the other. “Also, I have no idea how a turtle would have painted a ceiling.”

“A turtle?”

“You know, that movie we watched with the crime fighting turtles, one of them was called Michelangelo.”

“I’m gonna have this conversation after I’ve had coffee,” said Stephen as moved to turn around. “Come get some breakfast in the kitchen with me.”

It was only minutes later when they both sat on the wooden chairs of the kitchen table with a mug of coffee for Stephen and a cup of orange juice for America, as well as some toast with honey, that Stephen saw what America was wearing.

“Is there a reason you’ve gone through my wardrobe and are wearing my old college shirts?”

The girl looked down herself, looking at the grey shirt that was so large on her it reached below her shorts to look almost like a dress, before she looked up and simply said, “it’s not like you wear them anyway.”

That was the end of that conversation, but Stephen did leave a pile of them with her, so she could use them when she moved on to paint the rest of her walls, until they where covered in beautiful fields of flowers on one side which transitioned into a blue sky with clouds that looked like they were moving (maybe they were, Stephen would never say) as the painting continued to the ceiling until it evolved into a dark galaxy filled with stars and planets and pinks and blues and purples over and behind her bed.

After America moved all the furniture back into the room with Stephen help, it looked like a cozy place for America to come and sleep, and read, study, watch movies, and relax. He was so proud of his girl, and after she added the glow in the dark stars to the back wall to match her canopy, he added a light spell that allowed the stars in her paintings to twinkle and slightly sway.

It was after she had also painted her wardrobe and night stands as well as the inside and outside of her bedroom door to match her room, that she ran out of space to paint on.

It’s now been a few weeks and somehow Wong is yet to notice the way the living room walls have small flowers all along the bottom edge in different colours and shapes and sizes. Stephen thinks Wong is just pretending to not see them, as he seen plenty of her other drawings and paintings. Stephen also knows that he has a framed painting of a portal opening to a calming landscape hanging above the desk in his office in Kamer-Taj. America had given it to him as a gift for Luner New Year.

But in Stephens eyes nothing will ever top the colour pencil drawing that hangs in the Sanctums living room, directly above the stone chimney in a place of honour. It depicts a bouquet made out of three flowers held together by a large ribbon.

The left most flower is a light pink star-shaped ‘Astrantia’, which is a soft and elegant flower that represents strength, courage and most of all protection.

The middle flower is a ‘Blue Star’ which is a dainty and delicate little flower that symbolizes endurance, strength and determination.

And the last flower is a purple ‘Aster’, a flower that is named after the Greek word for ‘Star’ and symbolizes love, wisdom, and faith.

The flowers each represent one part of their little star shaped family and Stephen is filled with love and happiness whenever he looks over to see it on the wall.

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu fanfiction #doctor strange #stephen strange #america chavez #Wong #bats the ghost dog #flowers #fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 repost #domestic fluff #fluff #drawing #art

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vivianbernadetteaurora · 4 months ago

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The baby groupie

Let’s talk about early nineteen seventies to mid 1970s, rock ‘n’ roll and the Sun strip, when things were a bit different, let’s say to say at least anyway, groupies have always been a thing ever since there were musicians they were groupies no matter how high-level or low level the band were, So to be….. now in the 70s there was a phenomenon of what they called the baby groupies and the queen of the groupies which some of these women claimed to have held the title to, this is what Cameron crows film made in famous with based on Beene buell, live Tyler‘s mother, Stephen Tyler‘s daughter she got lied to do about her paternity but she still pictures of this man and she saw Steven Tyler just like him, and she knows I know she knows, Pamela Des bar, was 19/20 around this time, so when this phenomenon came along, she was considered old compared to these🕰️, these girls, some of them are fully grown women which was a disgrace😞Julia holy comb, these girls were 12 1314 at the most, and Iggy Pop even in his 96 song bragged sleeping with Sable when she was 13 I got with Sable when she was 13 her parents were too rich to do anything about it, or even care day then one day New York doll carried away, in which she began a very abusive relationship on his part, would like to question Debbie Harry because she was hanging around with all these girls such as Nancy Sable and Laurie when she was at the very least 10 years older maybe more like 15 so they were doing debauchery things with these girls , Maddox many years later said that she do it all again but the thing is she can actually consent because it’s statutory then I guess that’s in a weird way. I guess it’s okay but it’s not on the part part like I said when eggy pot rates stay away in 96 many decades later it’s like he even gave a shit, Sable isn’t with us anymore, I think she might have died of cancer in Vegas. I don’t know what she was doing. I would have loved to have the last years of our life. I’ve tried to look everywhere. I can’t find anything I can find the baby had to have started somewhere, I’m gonna do some, web research and find out where it all came apart Led Zeppelin dead especially Jimmy page a lot of the parents handed over guardianship and got paid for it so they were illegally taking these women. I mean girls across state lines which was illegal or they would leave them in their hotel rooms one of the girls, I can’t remember if it was sable or lorry said they lost their virginity to David Bowie and a threesome when they were 12 or 13 but these rockstars seem to get away with it if there is someone like Epstein it wouldn’t be the case or Weinstein because they rockstars is kind of seen as cool and Nikita, another one he did it book. scar tissue so where do we draw the line? Why do these rockers get away with it? Cause it’s so cool man rape is rape. You can dress up as much as you like a is a spade is a spade.

Also, and entry lawyer talks about this, some of the rockstars weren’t attracted to sables elder sister I think it was Queenie. I think she’s in one of the pictures. I don’t know which one is it’s hard to tell but Sable is the one with Debbie Harry. Oh no not in this picture. she is pictured with Jimmy funders of the New York dolls, poor Nancy got abused with she was only 21 when she died so can you imagine what she went through?

#babygroupies #groupie #sablestarr #lorimaddox #almost famous #fypage #abuse victim #abusers #abuse awareness #rockstarpdf

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barkingangelbaby · 7 months ago

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dude i miss my fuckin dad so much. gonna list the few memories of him under the cut

him walking us to the bus stop every morning with our neighbor- in his hat and leather jacket, smoking his Marlboro reds. one day he was like "why are you walking like that??" bc I was pigeon toed and my right foot was like sideways lol (he died before we found out my hips were v inlined)

going to (redacted) amusement park so often in the summer. I rode my first real rollercoaster with him in the 4th grade, I think we were in the second row.

same amusement park, during Halloween times, he was walking with a cane & we were in a pirate ship horror maze & he kept saying my sister's name aloud so the workers would say it in their creepy voices and scare her

snuggling up in bed and watching wrestling together

"the claw"

I can still vaguely remember his laugh

when he sent us drawing when he was in jail (powerpuff girls for my sister, scooby doo for me, pooh for my younger sibling)

one time we went to his sisters house (she lived two hours away in the town he met my mom in) and I asked to drink his mountain dew but suddenly forgot how to drink out of a bottle so he was like "drink it right or don't drink it at all!" (I fully put it in my mouth, I think I was 9)

vaguely remember him walking next to me while I rode my razor scooter down the street

my family was watching I am legend together and my friend called me on the house phone and everyone yelled at me to go outside if I was gonna talk (understandable)

going sledding at my great grandma's house in NW PA & I hit an ice ball or something and flipped/hurt my back lol. he carried my sled back up the hill

watching eight crazy nights with him

one time his friend visited and brought his big black lab and that was cute

going dirt bike/atv riding at his friends house in the woods. I had pink acid wash jeans

riding roller skates on the cement slabs next to our trailer

watching him play video games

(unfortunately) him spanking me when I got in trouble

watching thirteen ghosts with him n my mom and sister

father/daughter girlscout dance in 4th grade

him hanging out with my friend's mom when we had playdates (3rd-5th grade)

watching him at his baseball games

him playing with the calico cat we used to have

doing the extreme skyflier thing with him at the previously mentioned amusement park (4th grade)

(unfortunately) him getting very sick very fast. losing the ability to speak/walk.. he listened to Stephen king audiobooks. I don't remember his regular speaking voice much but I remember him trying to talk

the last thing we said to each other was "I love you", I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to school. he died before I got home.

I wish I remembered more but this is about it, I think. I wish I had more pictures besides the two photo albums my mom made. I wish I knew where any of the digital photos of him were. I wish he could have watched me grow up and know who I am today. I can't believe he died when I was 11. blah. I love you, dad. I miss you all the time.

#talking 2 myself #orphan hours

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emily-mooon · 10 months ago

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Alright part two!

Ok first up for part 2 is Robert. He’s funky guy who tells jokes with Becky whenever he’s with the band. He’s kinda like a manager for Wordsworth but not really as he’s a member of the student council and has knowledge on how battle of the bands works since his older brother was student council president in his last two years of high school and helped set up the two biggest years of the event. I gotta draw him more often cause I imagine all his button ups have fun patterns on them and he’s just really fun.

Next up is Paul and Brian. I’m combining them cause their stories are intertwined. They are childhood friends who had a falling out in grade 10. Brian is awkward and Paul is serious and stubborn. They are going through gay divorce but at the end make up and come to an understanding and learned from their past mistakes that made their relationship fail in the first place. Brian plays guitar and Paul plays bass. Their appearance is inspired by Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook of Joy Division/New Order respectively. They definitely watched the s2 finale of Good Omens as 50 somethings and cried cause of how similar their story was to Azriphale and Crowley (I watched my GO moots go through ineffable husbands gay divorce kiss depression. I have not seen the show myself).

Now let’s move on to Lucy. She comes across as being very sweet and forgiving but she can be passive aggressive to people she dislikes. She plays the keys and synth. She has similar struggles to Becky in that she’s a lesbian but instead she struggles with her identity as a Japanese-Canadian women (once again I’m definitely gonna get help developing her story cause I also wanna do her justice!). I didn’t mention this when talking about Becky but her and Lucy’s love story is inspired by Gillian Gilbert and Stephen Morris of New Order (and formerly joy division in Morris’s case).

And now the last oc I’ll talk about is Jenny. I don’t have a lot for her but she’s all in on the new wave fashion and in my head she’s similar to Sailor Jupiter from Sailor moon. I’m also thinking of putting her on aro and ace spectrum (but maybe more on the aro side). She’s really cool and I want her to become besties with Eugene at the end. I’m still stuck on the instrument shell play in the band but I’m leaning towards drums.

Anyways that’s the end of my oc rambling and I hope you liked these last few. I can’t wait to draw our ocs hanging out :D

i just had an entirely original idea all on my own we should draw our ocs together ! (/j but also /srs)

WE SHOULD!!!!!!!

Alright give me quick rundown of your ocs cause I only know them vaguely and the one I know decently well is Gene. I also wanna figure out the dynamics between them and who would get along really well with who. I’ll give you more details as well cause you know just as much about mine as I do yours :]

#once again #my babies are still a work in progress #but one day they won’t be #mutuals! :)#emily’s ocs #my ocs #ocs #moots ocs

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 years ago

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Runaway Jaskier

Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: E

Word Count: approx. 19K

Warnings: non-sexual use of Axii; explicit smut; mentions of Alzheimer's; canon-typical monster fights

Summary: When Geralt saves his upstairs neighbor from getting eaten by a bruxa, he plans to patch the kid up and Axii him into forgetting what happened. After all, the world has forgotten about witchers, monsters, and magic, and Geralt would like to keep it that way. Only, Jaskier has no interest in forgetting the coolest, most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to him, so he escapes out the window, leading Geralt on a wild goose chase across Novigrad.

Read the first few scenes below the cut or read the whole thing on AO3!

Geralt is taking a rare night off from witchering when his upstairs neighbor begins to scream.

He looks up at the ceiling, then over at Roach. His beagle continues to snore away, uncaring of whatever’s going on upstairs. Geralt can’t blame her; in the month since they moved into their first-floor Silverton apartment, the upstairs neighbor has made more noise than Geralt thought it was possible for a single human being to make. Heavy footsteps, loud conversations, vigorous, enthusiastic sex, music at all hours. Nothing the man does is quiet and Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if he were screaming bloody murder over a scary movie or a spider.

“Help me!” his neighbor screams. “Someone, help!”

“Fuck.” That doesn't sound like a scary movie or a spider.

Roach pokes her head up, looking unimpressed, as Geralt puts down his beer and goes to grab his silver sword.

“I’ll be back,” he tells her and starts for the door.

It’s a Friday night in a building inhabited mostly by U Novigrad students, so no one is home to witness Geralt running down the hallway and up the stairs with his sword in hand. Not that they would probably think much of it if they did see him; if Geralt has learned anything about modern humans, it’s that they’re shockingly unobservant and always ready to believe the excuse that he’s on his way to or from a costume party.

His upstairs neighbor is still screaming in terror when Geralt reaches the door of his apartment. He’s ready to blast it open with Aard, but finds it already unlocked. Geralt lets himself in, eyes sweeping the space. The kitchen/living room area is dark and empty, with a jacket thrown carelessly over a kitchen chair and a set of keys and a cell phone left on the counter. There are two empty wine glasses on the table next to the couch.

There’s another scream and a crash from the bedroom.

“Wait,” a voice begs. “Wait, wait, stop. ”

Geralt bursts into the bedroom. The bedsheets are rumpled, with a bottle of lube and a box of condoms on the bedside table. A sequined, rainbow-colored shirt is discarded on the ground. The bathroom door hangs open and inside, there are two men. No, Geralt sees at a second glance. One man and one bruxa.

The man—young, dark haired, and bleeding from a bite wound where his neck meets his shoulder—is cowering in his bathtub, clutching a bottle of shampoo like it’s a weapon. The bathroom is splattered with other shampoos and conditioners that he must have thrown at his assailant. The bruxa, looking like a handsome young man except for a mouth full of too-sharp teeth, looms over him.

“Stephen, what are you doing?” the young man asks, voice cracking.

“You did offer me something to eat,” the bruxa, Stephen, says smugly. Geralt has a feeling that this is a line he uses often on his victims, and he probably finds it amusing every time.

The young man shudders. Neither he nor the bruxa have noticed Geralt standing in the middle of the bedroom. “Fine, take whatever you want in the fridge and go.”

“I don’t want anything in your fridge, Jaskier.”

Jaskier draws further back against the wall. “Please.”

The bruxa laughs and moves towards his prey, hands outstretched to grab Jaskier. Jaskier screams and throws the bottle of shampoo. It misses by a mile, splattering against the mirror.

Geralt hurls his sword.

He doesn’t miss.

***

The worst part is that Jaskier was having a really nice night before Stephen started trying to kill him.

He had a new pair of sparkly blue shorts which made his ass look great—not that he has quite as much of an ass as he would like, but he works with what he has, okay? For once, Valdo, Essi, Shani, and Priscilla were all in town and had no other plans, so Jaskier could go out with all his friends at the same time. They got into their favorite club without having to wait in line for too long, the drinks were half-price, the music was great. It didn’t take long for Jaskier to catch the eye of a cute, dark-haired guy on the dance floor.

He expected his night to end with dancing, flirting, and some hopefully excellent sex.

He didn’t expect it to end with Stephen biting him on the fucking shoulder just when the clothes were starting to come off.

Now Stephen looms over Jaskier, his mouth contorted into a horrible smile filled with too many sharp teeth. He couldn’t possibly have had that many teeth at the club, could he? Jaskier definitely had one too many vodka cranberries, but not so many that he would have missed the fact that the guy he was dancing with had a smile like a fucking shark, with dead, cruel eyes to match.

It’s the mercilessness in his eyes that makes Jaskier realize that he’s about to die. This thing is going to kill him. He’s never going to see his friends again. He’s never going to see his parents or his sisters again. He’s going to die without a single hit song to his name. Worst of all, he’s going to die alone.

“Please,” he says, even though he knows it won’t do him any good.

Stephen’s smile grows wider and he lunges. Jaskier screams and throws his bottle of eucalyptus shampoo, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t see those horrible teeth coming at him.

There’s the whoosh of something flying through the air, a horrible, meaty noise, a choking gasp, and a thump. Jaskier opens his eyes in time to see Stephen crumple to the ground, a sword sticking out of his chest. Jaskier shrieks in surprise at the sight of those dead, empty eyes staring at him.

He looks up and screams again when he finds a new man standing in the doorway of his bathroom, a broad-shouldered, white-haired man who looks unimpressed at Jaskier’s scream. He seems vaguely familiar, but Jaskier can’t place him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jaskier presses a hand to his chest, right over his pounding heart. “And where the fuck did you come from?”

“I came through the front door. You left it unlocked.” The white-haired man glances down at the dead man on Jaskier’s bathroom floor. He’s wearing a pendant shaped like a snarling wolf’s head around his neck. “Probably shouldn’t do that.”

It takes Jaskier a moment to realize he’s being chastised for leaving his door unlocked. He laughs, high and hysterical. “You’re right. A man-eating monster might break in, or maybe some guy with a big-ass sword. Unless you’re a man-eating monster too?”

The man’s eyes are unsettling, yellow with slitted pupils. When he smiles, Jaskier sees that his incisors are just a little too sharp. “Not a man-eater, no,” the man says. “You have a first aid kit?”

Jaskier blinks. “What?”

“A first aid kit.” The man nods to the bite mark on Jaskier’s throat. “He got you good.”

Jaskier swallows and touches his neck. His fingers come away red. “I think I have Band-Aids somewhere. Unless I used them all for the Band-Aid shirt I wore to Valdo’s Anything But Clothes party last month.”

Somehow, the man looks even less impressed. “Then put a shirt on and come downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” Jaskier blinks at him, and then is suddenly able to place the man. “Wait, you live in the building! I’ve seen you walking your dog.”

“Hm.” The man looks discomfited, like he didn’t expect to be recognized. He holds out a hand to Jaskier. “Come on, I was taking a night off before I heard you screaming. Let’s clean you up so I can get back to that.”

Jaskier takes his hand and lets the man help him out of the tub, stepping gingerly over Stephen’s body. “A night off from what?”

“From killing bruxae.”

“What��” Jaskier looks down at Stephen, then immediately regrets it when he sees the pool of blood. That could have been his blood, he thinks nonsensically and starts to sway on his feet.

The man takes him by the shoulders to steady him. “A type of vampire.”

“Ah.” Jaskier takes another look at those strange yellow eyes. “You’re… not a vampire, are you?”

“No.” The man’s lips twitch.

“You’re not planning on getting me back to your place and killing me?”

“Would have been a waste of my time to save you then.”

Jaskier has to admit that’s a good point. “Well, then thank you for…” He gestures at Stephen’s corpse. “I’m Jaskier.”

The man inclines his head in a nod. “Geralt.”

Geralt. It’s an old-fashioned name, even though Geralt looks no older than thirty, maybe thirty-five. Jaskier’s grandfather had a friend named Geralt. Surely, at least one parent has named their newborn Geralt in the last eighty years, but something about those slit-pupiled eyes doesn’t seem quite human. “If you’re not a vampire, then what are you?”

Far be it from looking offended, Geralt just looks amused. “I’m a witcher.”

***

“I didn’t think witchers existed anymore,” Jaskier says from his perch on Geralt’s kitchen counter. “Or at all.”

“Hm.” Geralt examines the wound on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier is lucky; the bruxa didn’t get a chance to bite down, or the kid wouldn’t have had a chance of escaping. There’s a curve of shallow puncture marks in the meaty part where Jaskier’s neck meets his shoulder. Jaskier must have jerked away at the last moment, causing the bruxa’s teeth to scrape across his collarbone. An ugly wound, to be sure, but not deep enough to require stitches.

Jaskier refused to put a shirt on, not wanting to get blood on any of his clothes, so he’s wearing nothing but a pair of indecently tiny blue shorts and rhinestone-studded cowboy boots. The sequined, rainbow-colored shirt from his bedroom floor is folded over the back of one of Geralt’s kitchen chairs, far out of the range of any blood. His chest is surprisingly hairy, a fact that Geralt ignores.

“I kind of thought witchers were like the Blue Mountain Bigfoot or the Pontar River Monster,” Jaskier continues. “Just legends.”

Geralt, who killed the Pontar River Monster a hundred and fifty years ago and has met the Blue Mountain Bigfoot on several occasions—he’s pleasant enough company, but a bit of a sore loser when trounced at Gwent—makes a noncommittal noise.

“But… here you are.” Jaskier laughs a little nervously. He doesn’t smell terrified anymore, but there’s a sour note of anxiety under the eucalyptus and mint scents of whatever products he uses and the coppery tang of his blood.

“Here I am,” Geralt agrees. “There aren’t many of us left. We keep a low profile these days.”

“Until you have to save your upstairs neighbors from vampires?” Jaskier glances at the ceiling, like he expects the bruxa who nearly killed him to come through it.

“Exactly.” Normally, Geralt wouldn’t be so forthcoming, but he sees no point in not answering the kid’s questions. As soon as Jaskier’s patched up, Geralt will Axii him to forget everything that happened tonight and send him back to bed. Geralt will clean up the corpse in his bathroom while Jaskier is asleep and Jaskier will wake up in the morning with a vague memory of having too much to drink and a dud of a one-night stand. Jaskier will have a tale of woe for his friends tomorrow and no memory of how close he came to death.

“Well, thank you,” Jaskier says. “At least one of my neighbors gives a shit about keeping me alive. Mr. Weissman next door kept banging on the wall and yelling at me to keep it down. I suppose I should have been murdered quietly.”

Geralt has met Mr. Weissman in the laundry room twice. Both times, the old man spent the entire time bitching about how loud all the college kids in the building are. “In Mr. Weissman’s defense, you’re a noisy neighbor. He probably thought you were singing.”

Jaskier splutters. “You’ve heard me singing?”

“Whole building has heard you singing.”

“And what did you think?”

“Hm.”

Jaskier sniffs. “Well, you are like a thousand years old. It makes sense you’d have terrible taste in music.”

“Not a thousand years old.”

“Then how old are you?”

“Too old.” Geralt remembers that there was a point to bringing Jaskier back to his place and picks up an antiseptic wipe. “This is going to sting.”

Jaskier winces as Geralt begins gently cleaning the scratches. "I'm a musician. I need to practice my art. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"You could practice more quietly," Geralt points out.

"I do try to keep it down when inspiration strikes in the middle of the night."

"What does it sound like when you don't try to keep it down?" Geralt's lips twitch at Jaskier's offended harrumph. "I take it you haven't made it big, if you still live in this shithole?"

"Alas, no." Jaskier sighs. "The public isn't ready for my genius quite yet. But don't worry, I won't forget you when I'm touring the Continent, performing for screaming crowds."

"What a relief," Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier's phone buzzes and he checks it, scowling at whatever he sees. “Ugh, my friends went to Slice without me.”

“Slice?” Geralt asks.

“Our second-favorite club.” Jaskier shows Geralt a picture of three women and a man grinning on a dance floor, surrounded by a crush of bodies. “Though I guess that’s what I get for ducking out of our big night out so early. In my defense, Stephen was very pretty before he got all toothy.” He shudders a little.

“Hm.” Wounds cleaned, Geralt uses the antiseptic wipe to clean up the blood streaked down Jaskier’s collarbone, over his chest. He focuses on the task at hand, ignoring the way Jaskier twitches when Geralt wipes away the blood on his pec.

“Are there many of those things left?” Jaskier asks, voice slightly strangled. “Vampires?”

“Not as many as there used to be.” Geralt picks up a box of butterfly bandages. “But enough to keep me busy.”

“And you said there were different types of vampires?”

Geralt nods. “That was a bruxa. They’re most common these days. There are also alps and katakans. A few higher vampires, though I only know of one who’s still alive. Fleders, garkains, and mulas seem to have died out. They didn’t have human forms, so it was hard for them to blend in once the world became more industrialized.”

The world of monsters has changed dramatically since Geralt was a young witcher. He hasn’t fought a relic in well over a century. Draconids are sparse these days, mostly living deep in the mountains, far from civilization. He’ll occasionally hear of wyvern picking off hikers, but it’s a rarity. Necrophages’ numbers diminished as soon as humans began embalming their dead, though he’ll occasionally run across one at a historical graveyard or in the backyard of some cat lady who buries all her deceased pets in the garden. These days, most of what he deals with are vampires, succubi and incubi, and specters.

“So, how do you find the beasties you need to kill?” Jaskier grimaces as Geralt applies a butterfly bandage to the deepest part of his wound. “Is there a hotline I should know about?”

“Mostly word of mouth. People don’t know what I am, but they have a haunting and hear that a friend of a friend had a ghost in their basement and I took care of it. And I know where to look for things that need killing.”

“Must be hard to keep people from finding out about you.”

“Not as hard as you think. People are oblivious and Axii takes care of the rest.”

Jaskier frowns. “Axii?”

Geralt hesitates, then decides there’s no point lying now. “It’s a sign. A low-powered spell of sorts. We use it to influence minds. Helps people who have seen too much forget what they saw.”

“Ah.” Jaskier glances down at his phone nervously. “That’s handy. It doesn’t, er, scramble the brains of the people you use it on, does it?”

“No, it’s just like they had one too many drinks and lost a couple of hours.”

“Oh, well.” Jaskier laughs. “I guess I can’t blame you. With the internet, it’s a miracle the world hasn’t found out about you.”

“That’s what we’re trying to avoid.” Geralt carefully searches Jaskier’s expression, but the kid doesn’t seem any more nervous than he did five minutes ago.

“Is there a reason you don’t want people to know about you?”

Geralt applies another bandage to Jaskier’s collarbone. “Humans were always nervous around witchers. Most of the time, they wouldn’t do anything more than glare and make a sign to ward off the evil eye. But sometimes, they got it in their heads that they needed to get rid of us permanently. We lost more witchers to men than to monsters.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” Jaskier sounds scandalized, his nervousness fading into outrage. “Would they rather get gnawed on by vampires?”

“Lots of them convinced themselves we were the reason the vampires kept showing up.”

“Idiots.” Jaskier harrumphs and looks down at himself. “So, will I live?”

“You should.”

“Not going to turn into a vampire, am I?”

“That’s not how vampires work.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t be a great creature of the night.”

Geralt hums in agreement. “Never met a vampire who wore bedazzled boots.”

“No accounting for taste.” Jaskier sniffs and jumps down from the counter. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Go ahead. It’s in the bedroom, same as yours.” Geralt lets his eyes linger as Jaskier starts towards the bedroom, pulling his sequined shirt on as he goes. Those shorts leave very little to the imagination and the shirt leaves even less; it’s practically see-through. He drags his eyes away from Jaskier��s long, long legs, turning to throw away the antiseptic wipes.

Geralt hears the bathroom door close. A moment later, Roach comes slinking out of the bedroom from where she was probably hiding under the bed. She doesn’t like strangers in the apartment, especially when they’re noisy.

“I know, girl,” Geralt tells her, sweeping the rest of the trash into the wastebin. “He’ll be gone soon and then he’ll be back to our quiet night.”

He imagines the look on Yenn’s face when he tells her that he finally took a night off and ended up killing a bruxa in his own building. “That’s what you get for living in Silverton, Geralt,” she’ll say with a disdainful sniff. She’s not wrong.

Roach continues to stare at Geralt reproachfully. She learned her judgmental looks from Yennefer, he’s pretty sure.

“Wasn’t just going to let him bleed, Roach.” Geralt goes to the fridge to get her a piece of cheese as a peace offering. “Anyway, I’ll send him upstairs in a minute and then—”

From the bathroom, there’s the sound of a window sliding open.

Geralt drops the piece of cheese, which Roach happily scarfs up. “Fuck.”

Shouting Jaskier’s name, Geralt rushes for the bedroom. Inside, he finds the bathroom door closed. He shoves it open and finds the window wide open. The bathroom window is narrow enough that Geralt couldn’t dream of squeezing his way through, but a skinny twenty-something would have no problem. Sure enough, when Geralt sticks his head out the window, he sees Jaskier jogging towards a car idling on the curb.

Fuck, when Geralt thought Jaskier was idly playing with his phone, he must have been calling a rideshare.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouts again.

Jaskier waves merrily over his shoulder, not looking back. “Sorry, Geralt!” he calls and slides into the back of the car before Geralt can answer.

Geralt watches as the car pulls away from the curb, its tail lights vanishing around the corner. “Fuck.”

***

Read the rest on AO3!

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's fic #ghost's writing

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heloflor · 2 years ago

Text

A few random personal headcanons about Cartman, Butters, and both :

1. Cartman doodles in class. I mean, we know from “Fractured but Whole” that he draws in a journal (regardless of the fact that the content of said journal is fucked up) + he seems to enjoy making visual representation of his schemes. So given how he doesn’t give a shit about school, he could definitely end up drawing to pass the time.

And the doodles he would make could depend on his mood or what’s on his mind. Like, when he was dating Heidi, he drew her or the two of them together; if he’s mad at Kyle or Tolkien or someone else, he’ll draw them being hurt or humiliated; if he’s thinking about a “get-rich-quick scheme”, he’ll draw himself and possibly Butters swimming in money.

2. Butters knows how to do quite a few shady things due to his friendship with Cartman. He would know how to pick a lock, how to remove fingerprints/avoid putting fingerprints or even stuff like how to bury a body or commit arson etc.

Everytime he would nonchalantly show those skills to Stan and Kyle, the two would be floored by it, while Kenny would already know about those skills (and be worried about it). Also if Stan and/or Kyle question Butters about it, Cartman would back it up like “yeah, obviously he knows how to do that ! Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry a body by yourself ?” as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

3. Kinda related to the previous one but Cartman would also willingly teach Butters random things just for the heck of it/because they’re friends. And by that I’m mostly thinking about how Cartman can play the harmonica (the “I hate you guys” song + his blues song from “Whale Whores”) and, in “Fractured But Whole”, Butters plays a song about being grounded in the tune of “I hate you guys”, giving off the impression that Cartman’s the one who taught him how to play the harmonica.

4. The Stotch parents don’t like the Cartmans, especially Stephen. Between Liane having little to no control over her son (Stephen doesn’t understand how you can let your kid walk all over you) and Stephen seeing/hearing about Butters “getting gay” with Cartman (not helped by him projecting his insecurities over his sexuality onto Butters), the Stotches just can’t bring themselves to have a good opinion on the Cartmans.

Ultimately, they only let their son hang out with Cartman because the kid doesn’t really have any other close friends his age. And it’s not like they can stop Cartman anyways (thinking about the confrontation in the trailer of the Vaccination Special with Cartman immediately getting aggressive towards Stephen)

Oh yeah, and after the events of “Band in China”, the Stotches would not-so-subtly make offhand remarks about Butters having new close friends now and how he should hang out with them instead of Cartman. Butters, of course, doesn’t listen.

5. 10 years-old Butters being light as a feather and sometimes Cartman carrying a pissed off Butters over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

(for example, imagine Butters yelling at some people who pissed him off but Cartman doesn’t have time for this and since Butters doesn’t want to stop, Cartman just grabs him, hauls him onto his shoulder and walks away with the kid flipping the bird to the people who pissed him off. Though Cartman would probably stop carrying him by throwing him onto the ground/randomly letting go, with Butters falling on his ass pretty hard : / )

6. While pretty much every kid grows out of being touchy, with some specific exceptions like Stan and Kyle remaining touchy towards each other, Cartman continues to be just as touchy towards everyone even as he grows older.

7. Something inspired by a youtube comment on a video that had Butters going apeshit (I think it was the scene from “Grounded Vindaloop”) : Butters as a teenager having huge anger issues and in general being out of control. Overall, he’d still be a sweet person when in a good mood but would be very easy to anger.

On that same note, he’d probably have little to no patience with bullshit since after dealing with abuse for so long he’s just done with everyone’s shit. His parents would have no idea how to deal with his rebellious tendencies (and would probably blame Cartman for it).

In general, his relationship with his parents would be weird. Like, Butters is still afraid of punishment and still doesn’t want to get in trouble with them, but at the same time he would absolutely talk back and, if things get too heated and he gets sent in his room, he would either tell them to fuck off and run outside or get in his room and leave through the window.

Also, Butters still does love his parents. There was this one post about the idea of Butters eventually realizing that Stephen and Linda are messed up people who did want their son to be happy but had no idea how to be good parents, with Butters deciding to forgive them and still try to have a good relationship with them. I really like this idea, though I do feel that Butters would learn to stand up for himself and call his parents out on their behavior, partly for himself but also partly to help them.

Ultimately, the main 4, especially Cartman and Kenny, would be the ones who kinda know how to handle him (not that well tho depending on how he feels). I could actually see Kenny being better at calming him down since he's better with emotions and empathy than Cartman (tbf, literally 90% of the characters in this show are better with empathy than Cartman). Stan would also probably try there and there since he and Butters seem to be good friends, but he would struggle too.

8. A few bonus teen headcanons about the whole main 5 and cars since we’re at it :

- Stan would be the first to get his license, in a mix of him wanting to be able to go to town whenever and his father wanting to teach him (though in order to get Stan to help with the farm). Depending how much his family makes, he might get a car pretty early (and maybe Jimbo might help him find one ?)

- Kyle and Butters would likely be second, with their respective parents wanting them to learn essential skills. And since I think both families have two cars, both could ride pretty much anytime. Kenny wouldn’t be too far behind but wouldn’t be able to afford a car. As for Cartman, he’ll probably struggle to learn since he’s a stubborn asshole but eventually get his license. Like Kenny though, he can’t afford a car but could sometimes take his mother’s.

(note that I have no idea how much a car costs in the US)

- While both Stan and Kyle have their licenses, Stan tries to find random excuses in order to either drive Kyle or get a ride from him. Even after Kyle realizes what Stan is doing, he still lets it happen cause he’s not going to walk away from an opportunity to spend time with his best friend, even if just for a car ride.

- Kenny doesn’t usually ask for a ride because he doesn’t want to inconvenience his friends, but he never says no when one of the boys offers him a ride (unless he wants to walk alone while in his thoughts).

- Kyle banned Cartman from being in his car due to Cartman always letting bags of food around or being bitchy about the interior and the music choices. And since Stan often rides with Kyle and doesn’t want to hear the two fight, he rarely takes Cartman in. So Butters ends up being Cartman’s taxi.

- Oh yeah and as it turns out Cartman is fine with picking up his trash in Butters’ car. Cue Kyle losing his shit over this.

- I’ve read fics in which Cartman has like a big car to drive the whole main 5 and I love this idea (tho I don’t see it happen immediately because, again, money). Although the rest of the group probably wouldn’t like Cartman’s music choice.

- Speaking of which, Cartman having a playlist to listen to during drives and pouring his heart out singing. Depending of the songs, Kenny and Butters might join. Stan sometimes gets annoyed, sometimes likes the song and is fine with the singing, tho he’s cringing a bit. Kyle is mostly annoyed but doesn’t want to start a screaming match with Cartman where neither of them can leave. Sometimes, Cartman might sing badly on purpose to get on Kyle’s nerves, in which case Stan sides with Kyle in telling Cartman to stop being an asshole.

#South Park #SP #Eric Cartman #Butters Stotch #Flor talks #long post #yeah I just wanted to share a few random ideas #especially since I'm not really going to write much about this show past a few short oneshots #also almost no teen stuff because I'm not the biggest when it comes to aging up characters #especially when it's just for shipping #tho teenage Butters being unhidged is a thought I adore #(yes I like Butters being a piece of shit)#(he's allowed to destroy stuff given how much shit he has to deal with all the time)#the first 3 headcanons are probably predictable/obvious stuff but eh

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poetofthedyingstars · 3 years ago

Note

SIG POETS AS STATIONARY HAHAHA

HELLO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG 😭😭😭😭😭 ANYWAYS HELLO MOSS THANK U SO MUCH FOR BEING SUPPORTIVE ur the light and ilysm so here is it !!!!!

poets as stationery

richard cameron as bulldog clip (why is it called that), binders and highlighters!!

okay bulldog clip because bulldog clip is my favorite stationary. i usually use this on my poetry notebook and it's attached to certain part my notebook and slip in a few important loose pages or random shits and that's just cameron because he's attached to ur life and u can just tell him anything like a secret and he'll take care of it for you. highlighters because cameron is That Girl™- jk. i feel like if olden times, he'd fucking refuse to use highlighters for his notes because idk he just feels weird about it because he's used to writing in just fountain pen something like that but he fell in love with calligraphy and now will write names or letters to give to the poets slash his friends. it's awesome!! binders because he just keeps his life organized. the richard "got my shit together- NOT" cameron.

charlie dalton as swivel chair and a clicker pen

okay because we all know this bitch doesn't care about stationery at ALL 😭 he's messy and he doesn't even give a fuck about writing on proper notebook. (dude draws boobies while on class.... and writes poetry on u know... the 'teach me to love? go teach thyself more wit' thing. ) ANYWAYS i just feel like he'd still love clicker pens because it's 🥰🥰🥰🥰 and u can just click on it whenever or whatever. it's a fun pen and charlie loves it. swivel chair because it's a SWIVEL CHAIR!!! it's the turny around chair. he loves it very much. periodt.

stephen meeks as push pins, stamps and paper clips.

no particular reason at all except he embodies all of these stationery tools. this is very personal and i don't care what u say (light-hearted) (who am i arguing with sorry) PUSH PINS OKAY coz he keeps the notice on the boards. also coz he's the mother friend he keep them shit together like the reminder on the notice board which u will not notice if the push pins are not pushed on them. stamps because he loves stamps. it's a reminder of those good luck stamps from when he was a kid. it's nice and he misses his parents everyday thx. when he gets home and he spent a lot of time with his siblings and lots of accomplishment talk with the kids u know and he gives the good job! stamps or the three stars one. paper clips because paper clips.

gerard pitts as accordion file and index card.

u know those index card that has design on them and really smells great? idk i think it's actually special paper or something. or like the invitation papers!! yeah haha anyways pittsie loves using them. when he sees quote or poem he likes he writes it on them and put it on a scrapbook 🥰🥰🥰 and accordion file is literally a fun folder. why would you not love that!!

neil perry as hole puncher, sticky notes and a clipboard.

neil is a HOLE PUNCHER. pun intended. that's it. that's the reason. jk. sticky notes because he's sticky. i mean he just sticks with you forever. he's sticky. and he's also notes. he remembers stuffs about you and you'll always feels included with him i love him very much and i will do anything for this dude anyways he's also a clipboard because that's where the papers goes. and guess who the paper is

todd anderson as the notebook, papers and pen holders.

the notebook ™ for obvious reasons. notebook, journal, u know it babe. i'd like to think todd tried to make those DIY journals. (i know because we hang out sometimes and makes shitty diy notebooks). u know one time todd wrote like no. of poems to neil on an occasion and he made like this cute booklet out of it and stitched it. it was simple and not very good but neil loves it nevertheless. the notebook and papers 🥰 he's a writer so. pen holders is jus kinda poetic tbh. he's a master of words!! he's an English teacher and he aspire people. he's a pen holder !!!!!!

knox overstreet as computer and eraser

computer coz u know he's digital yeah. no particular reason honestly ? eraser uh. well u know he's very forgetful. idk why is that related but it's related also when he was a kid his parents would buy him those school set things. u know the themed pencil cases with pens eraser and sharpener all and all that comes with a trolley bag ?

LIKE THIS ONE 😭 so he's very fond of erasers and pens !! coz they always have themes and stuff like that. why is neither meeks and pittsie not a computer? dk.

ANYWAYS BESPREN HOPE U ENJOYED MY NONSENSE RAMBLING while also writing headcanons in between <333

#dead poets society #dead poets #dps fandom #neil perry #charlie dalton #richard cameron #todd anderson #steven meeks #gerard pitts #knox overstreet #ace ��#sig writes #dead poets headcanons #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets society headcanon #moss 💧#sig answers asks

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Note

“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.” with Javi 😩 OR marcus moreno bc I think it fits him too

Personal Number (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: You’re lonely working as the American ambassador’s secretary. You miss the days of being down with the agents as a receptionist. At least you get to talk with Javier Peña on the phone somewhat often.

W/C: 1.5k

Warnings: language, brief mentions of sexual content. this is pretty tame.

A/N: I LOVE JAVIER. can you tell?? thank you for this idea Thea!!! I love it so much and I hope you like it too. Also, can you tell I like writing phone calls? I just think it’s so fun and a medium that isn’t covered super often.

it’s definitely not because I like not having to write about body language or action.

Javier Peña was a flirt. You knew that from the start, from the stories you’d heard from the other women around the embassy. He was cute, you admitted. Tight shirts and equally slim-fitting jeans, dark hair, lean and strong. He walked with power in his stance.

You liked him. He was a nice man, respectful. He flirted with everyone, but he never went too far. Sure, he’d slept with a solid chunk of the women who worked here, but he was supposedly a wonderful lover. His methods were unorthodox in the field, but he got what he needed. He was incredibly clever, setting up traps and getting information by any means necessary. You talked occasionally, when he’d stop by because you had a message for him at the receptionist desk. He was good for conversation. He liked the cinnamon candies you kept on your desk.

The other women talked with you more than he did. You and the other women chatted, ate lunch together. The rare female presence was much appreciated in such a testosterone-laden environment. You all got along well. Even compared stories of sleeping with certain agents, how their skills at finding the clit ranked, how snuggly they were after, how receptive they were to certain acts. It was fun.

Javier was a busy man. The phone on his desk rarely rang. If someone needed someone around the embassy, they went and talked to them in person. It was an excuse to get away from your desk, people figured. You rarely used the phone too, even as a receptionist. You’d answer calls when they came, but they were usually directed other places, with specific extensions. People here were more direct.

That was before you’d been appointed as the ambassador’s secretary. It was an honor. It meant you were good at your job. You’d taken it, bragging to the other girls over lunch. Everyone was excited for you.

The job, you found out, was dry. It consists most days of making phone calls. Stechner, Ambassador wants you. Ambassador? Stechner’s here. Yep. I’ll let him in. Hi, we’ll take three orders of arepas- sorry, yes sir? Scratch that, he wants four. And can you throw in a coffee- one second, yes sir? Got it- with four creams and two sugars.

You doodle on a notepad many days. You read newspapers or reports. You proofread memos for the ambassador before he sends them off to someone important. It’s draining and dry and you have to admit you hate it.

“Peña,” a voice answers the phone.

“Hi Javier. Are you busy?” You ask.

He smiles a little as he hears your voice, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “When am I ever around here?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“I know the feeling.”

The two of you had talked a few times before. He was nice enough, if curt. Usually, he was busy. People only came to you when they needed something as a receptionist, and now even more so as a private secretary.

“How’s the promotion treating you?” He asks. He’d heard word as he talked with others. Noticed your spot was empty for a day or two before being replaced by another woman. He missed the little candies you kept on your desk. You always kept cinnamon disks stocked in a separate jar from the seasonal candies for him.

“It’s… good,” you nod, drawing a little fish on your notepad. “Kind of feels like a demotion sometimes. It’s boring up here. And lonely. I miss being around to talk with people.”

“We miss you,” he admits with a smile. “You still keep those cinnamon candies on your desk up there?”

You shake your head, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder. “No. Ambassador doesn’t like them, so I switched over. I did get some new fun caramel flavored stuff though.”

“Damn,” he chuckles.

“Would it make you come up here if I had them?”

“I may have to visit the ambassador more often if you did,” he teases, and you chuckle softly. “Poor little social butterfly, cooped up on the highest floor, away from humanity.”

“I do feel like Rapunzel some days,” you sigh, still smiling. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to ask if you were busy for the ambassador, not for myself. He wants to see you if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Right now?”

“Right now.”

You can hear shuffling on the other end. “Let me put my signature on one more paper and I’ll be up.” He hangs up and you sigh. There was the most interaction you’ll get for the day.

It seems that the closer the men get to Escobar, the more the ambassador needs to see Murphy and Peña. You don’t mind. The two men are funny, and the way they interact makes you smile.

Peña talks to you more than Murphy. Steve is more likely to go outside to smoke, while Javier smokes at his desk. That means you dial him more often simply because there’s a higher probability he’s at his desk. Not because you enjoy talking with him more.

The two men had picked up on calling you Rapunzel. Your energy and excitement was draining day by day, and they compared your new position outside of the ambassador’s office, high on the top floor of the embassy, to Rapunzel’s tower.

You playfully called them Javi and Stephen in return to annoy both of them. It didn’t work on Javier. It turned out he liked that, and you could tell by the way his voice softened. So you kept that.

“Peña.”

“Guess who?” you ask dryly, tapping your pen against your notepad.

The man chuckles. “You must be having an exciting day up there. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Ha.” The word is humorless and flat. “Ambassador wants to see you two.”

Javier groans. “Kind of busy.”

“Well, I’ll tell him that,” you nod and write down on a legal pad- separate from your doodling pad- Peña busy. 11:30. “How are things going down there today?”

“Annoying. Steve is a pain in my ass- hey, shut the fuck up,” you can hear him say even as he removes the receiver away from his phone. You giggle at that, smiling as he speaks again. “Sorry. Can you guess who that was?”

“What was he saying this time?” You ask, twirling the cord to the phone around your finger.

“Nothing,” he insists, but you can hear Murphy shouting. Some message he’s trying to get to you.

“Well, alright. Call up when you’re less busy,” you ask him and hang up.

You really want to know what Murphy was going on about. You dial his desk and he picks up. “S’this Rapunzel?” A southern accent twangs.

“Of course,” you chuckle. “What were you shouting into Javi’s phone?”

“Oh, nothing. Oh, hey, wait,” he says, pulling the phone down and pressing it to his chest. You can hear the muffled voices of the two men, but not what they’re saying. He puts it back to his ear quickly after. “Anyway, it’s nothing. We’ll call you back when we’ve got a minute to come up.”

Odd, you think, before going back to your work on your desk.

The phone rings again an hour later. “Ambassador’s office,” you say with a gentle lilt to your voice.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” a kind but rough voice speaks through the phone. Javi.

“Hey,” you chuckle a little. “You guys ready to come up?”

“Uh, no, not yet. But I do want you to write something down for me.”

“Anything,” you nod, priming your pen above the piece of paper.

Javier rattles off ten numbers, and you diligently write them down on the paper. You repeat it back and he affirms that it’s correct. “Got it. What is it?”

“It’s my personal phone number.”

“Javi, the ambassador already has your phone number.”

“No, I know. It’s for you.”

Oh. Your heart flutters excitedly in your chest, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

“I like talking with you. Our phone calls are the highlight of my day. You can call me whenever you want… even if you don’t have a reason to. I just… like hearing your voice. I like you.”

You clutch the paper, grinning ear to ear. “Well, I like you too, Javi. I’ll be using this,” you assure him, looking down at it and beaming. “Now, you said you’re busy. Get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am. See you in a bit.”

Click. Dial tone. Your heart fills with sparks and little fireworks, sending you into a loud laugh of excitement.

The thick oak doors swing open. The ambassador looks at you with concern. “Everything alright out here?” He asks you.

You nod, biting your lip and looking down to hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah. Great, sir. Peña and Murphy aren’t ready yet. They’ll be up later.”

The man gives you a nod and closes the door behind him.

The grin returns. You trace the freshly-dried ink, the nine numbers that will connect you directly to Javier at any time you want. You pull your contact book from your purse, sitting beneath your desk, flipping to a clean page.

Javier Peña, you write.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

personal number

You go back and draw a small heart next to his name.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña #narcos fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pascalpanic

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creamecafe · 3 years ago

Text

Sort of a Flight Lesson

🚨 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 🚨: This GIF above is NOT mine. It belongs to @carricfisher

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒙 𝑮𝒏! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Stephen 'teaches' Y/N how to fly luckily with the help of his powers.

𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: No exact timeline in the MCU

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1.3k

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: None, just fluff

𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆!

It started, well how do you say? There are so many words to describe what I wanna say, but let's start simple. It started a pretty chill and relaxing Wednesday. I was in my friend Stephen's house, in his library, just laying down reading a book while listening to music on my iPod. I spend most of my time at Stephen's place, well in his library I should say. I usually draw, read, or like to drink tea with Stephen while I'm there.

I love hanging out with Stephen. He's pretty chill and nice to hang out with. One thing I find so amusing is his flying ability. I find it pretty cool that he can fly with or without his cloak. I always dreamed of being a little kid being able to float or fly around. That's why I always have my nose in a book about fairytales and fantasies, so I can imagine myself being able to do what Stephen can do.

I was reading Peter Pan when Stephen walked into the library. I didn't notice since I had my headphones in until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I took out one headphone from my ear and looked up at Stephen whose head was hovering above me since I was laying down on his fancy Victorian couch. He had a smile on his face.

"Hey, Stephen, what's up?" I smiled back

"Hello Y/N, I'm doing well. Are you comfortable there?"

"Yes, I am thank you."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Just reading a book like pretty much every day when I'm at your place."

Stephen chuckled and walked around the couch so he could sit down next to me. I curl up my legs so he can be able to do so. I notice he's looking at my book.

"What are you reading?"

I look up from my book to look at him.

"Reading Peter Pan."

"Can I see?"

"Sure," I handed him my book.

He takes it and sees where I was left off reading. I was reading the part where Peter takes Wendy and her two younger brothers, John and Micheal flying to Neverland from London. I have always loved that part of Peter Pan, especially in the movies.

"You're reading Peter Pan?"

"Yes, it has always been a childhood favorite of mine."

"You know,"

I sit up on the couch to give Stephen my full attention.

"I have been noticing recently that every time you come here to read, your head is always in a made-up reality of things that seem impossible."

Uh oh. I think Stephen knows what I'm thinking about.

"It's just that," I sigh. "Growing up as a young kid, I have always dreamed of being able to live in a reality where things seem impossible just as you just said. And now I'm living in one, but there's no unique possibility for me."

"What do you mean?"

"You have magic powers you can make things float. You use it for a purpose, to protect others whether your name gets known or not. God, I probably sound stupid being jealous of something like that."

"No," Stephen puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I turn and look at him.

"It doesn't sound stupid. Everyone gets jealous of something. But I'm sorry you feel that way. You don't have to."

"Thank you Stephen I appreciate it. But we have these amazing people, like Iron Man, Captain America, the Hulk, and everyone who works at the Stark tower with their amazing ability. Even if they don't have powers they are still amazing."

"Y/N, you're amazing too just the way you are. And you always talk about wanting to help me with my magic and missions. But you're busy with your life. You are taking classes for the career you want, you have a job from 9 am to 4 pm, and I don't want you getting hurt. But how about this?"

Stephen now stands up from the couch walking to my side standing there.

"How about I can make you fly to make you feel a little better?"

A little smile appears on my face.

"You would do that? Can you do that?" I asked probably sounding dumb.

"Of course, why not try maybe just once?"

I was so excited. I took out the other earbud from my ear and sprung up from the long comfortable Victorian couch. I started fidgeting with my hands and smiling so much expressing to Stephen how much I am excited for this.

"Take out both your hands."

I obeyed and took them out and his soft touch immediately connected with mine.

"Now close your eyes and take a deep breath."

I did so too. After I did so, I felt a slight tingle around my body.

"Now...you can open them."

I do as he says and...wow. I look at Stephen and at the ground. My feet aren't on it anymore. While the same for Stephen but instead he sits crissed crossed applesauce like a first grader. I turn my head back and see the laying flat in the air. I kick them up and down as if I'm swimming in the air. And my hair was also floating. I can't forget that.

"Let go of my hands."

"Huh?" I asked, sounding confused.

"Let go of my hands." He repeated.

I'm a little hesitant at first to let go. Even though Stephen is sweet and caring, most of the time ahh how do I say? He can be a bit sarcastic and not always nice. So I'm afraid he can drop me to the ground to annoy me.

"I-I don't know Stephen. What if I fall?"

"You won't Y/N. You can trust me. I promise."

I'm a bit skeptical of Stephen, but his voice assures me that I won't fall like a father teaching his kid how to ride a bike and letting him ride on his own. So I take that same trust a child would give his father to Stephen. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let go expecting a huge impact to come on me to the floor. But I didn't feel anything.

I opened my eyes and realized that I was still floating in the air. I'm so shocked by this even when I floated for the first time. My excitement and being able to be proud of myself for a small achievement is just like that child learning to ride on his own. I held out both of my arms to see them move in the air.

I look up to Stephen and see a big smile on his face with a "supposedly called wink." I can't help but laugh at his cute attempt. I asked if he could hand me my book and he did so and from now on I can finally feel like a lost boy in Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan. Even me and Stephen would drink tea up in the air and we can see the hot liquid pouring slowly like if it was in Space. It might not be like leaving the place you know to discover something new. But at least that fantasy of mine turned into a reality.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈, 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔! 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅! 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅!

𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚!

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x y/n #doctor strange fic #stephen strange fic #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfiction #marvel #mcu fic #x reader fluff #doctorstrangexgn!reader #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader fluff

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bitacrytic · 3 years ago

Text

Black Rose (6)

Read previous part HERE

♧

“You’re selling this place,” Yohan said, gently nudging the makeshift posts beneath Gaon’s bed.

“Excuse me,” Gaon replied, closing the door, but making no move to come back in, careful of the distance between them.

Yohan hated the distance.

“You can’t keep running back here every time we get in a fight.”

Or if he’d somehow laid himself bare to a man, he knew nothing about.

♧♧♧♧♧

Yohan took a tentative step into the apartment, into Gaon’s world. It wasn’t lost on him that they’d only ever interacted at the office or at the mansion, or anywhere else that was of Yohan’s machinations. He wondered if it was to his advantage that things between always happened on his turf, on his terms.

The apartment was small but roomy enough to afford him movement because Gaon didn’t clutter the inside. He just had a bed, a closet, and a reading area. Gaon reserved all his clutter for the veranda right outside his door where there was barely any room to step for fear of crushing a potted plant.

It was quiet, but not in the menacing way that the mansion was. He could still hear cars from the road and conversation from the street and other apartments. Living in this apartment, was not insolation. This was comfort. This was calm. This was an avenue to community. Three things that the mansion was not.

No wonder Gaon kept coming back.

“You’re selling this place,” Yohan said, gently nudging the makeshift posts beneath Gaon’s bed.

“Excuse me,” Gaon replied, closing the door, but making no move to come back in, careful of the distance between them.

Yohan hated the distance.

“You can’t keep running back here every time we get in a fight.”

Gaon clenched his fist, then buried them in his pockets.

“I’m not selling my house.”

“I’ll buy you a better one. One closer to the mansio-"

“Did you come here for a reason, Sir?”

Yohan wanted to ignore him and finish what he’d started saying. Instead, he sat on the bed. Soft. He tried to bounce on it, but it didn’t bounce. It just absorbed his weight and pulled him in.

“Come back with me.”

“Sir-"

“It’s what we do Gaon. We fight and then we make up.”

Gaon leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his hands in front of his torso.

“That’s not the best way to live.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. And I don’t want to pressure you-”

Yohan laughed.

“-into anything that you don’t want.”

“Do you think we’ve done anything that I don’t want?”

“You may have wanted it at the moment, but regret tends to colour memories of the experience.”

Gaon was right. Yohan had wanted it, God, he’d wanted it like his skin was burning and Gaon had a bucket of water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate for anything before that day at the office where he’d kissed Gaon and sucked him off.

The moment they were done, Yohan was wrought with shame. His depraved needs were usually confined to protected walls with partners who knew better than to speak of it.

“Do you know where I’m supposed to be today?”

Gaon shook his head.

“Think.”

Comprehension dawned on Gaon.

“It’s the third Saturday of the month.”

“Yes.” Yohan nodded. “I have a standing appointment that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep.”

Gaon pushed off the wall as his hands fell to his sides, then he schooled his expression, attempting to pull back the veil of nonchalance he’d worn ever since Yohan entered the apartment. Eventually, he gave up, placing a hand on his hips.

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean?”

As the words left his mouth, Yohan didn’t think truer words could have existed. He was starving and for some reason, Gaon felt like the perfect source to quench his thirst. He could go for his appointment. He could have Josephine or Stephen whip him till his body quivered and craved release. He could do that. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore.

“What does that mean?” Gaon asked again, sounding worried. “We’re not doing anything until we understand what we want from each other.”

“I want everything from you,” Yohan replied quietly.

“Sir,” Gaon said softly taking a step forward, but backing up immediately.

Yohan frowned at Gaon’s feet. He wanted Gaon to cover that distance, but he didn’t know how to say it. He couldn’t find the words.

“I should be more specific,” Yohan said. “I don’t want you to hurt me. I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I hate it when you leave.” His voice shook.

“I’m right here, Sir.”

“I hate that you still call me Sir. Gaon, you’ve ejaculated in my mouth for fucksake.”

The words came out harsher than he’d intended. As Gaon’s frown deepened, Yohan rushed to rectify his mistake.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way. You can... you can call me whatever you-"

“Yohan-hyung.”

Every word in Yohan’s mind screeched to halt after Gaon spoke. Unable to speak, he just sat there with his mouth hanging open.

“Hyung-nim?” Gaon asked, walking towards Yohan, slowly. “Or just Yohan?”

Yohan-hyung. That was the one Yohan liked the best. But he couldn’t convey that because Gaon was getting closer and closer till he crouched between Yohan’s legs and knelt on the ground.

“Which do you prefer?”

“What are you doing?”

Gaon took Yohan’ hands in his own and held them to his chest. He was so close. He was still so beautiful. Oh, how Yohan just wanted to kiss him.

But before he could, Gaon leaned up and pressed his lips to Yohan’s in a soft, fleeting kiss.

“We’re talking terms and conditions, right?”

Yohan nodded.

“Yohan-hyung,” Gaon said, sounding like he’d decided. “But I’ll still call you Sir at the office.”

“Anything you want.” He licked his lips, looking down at Gaon’s and wanting another kiss.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“I can do that.” If things were going where Yohan thought they were, then he was going to agree to anything.

“Listen to me,” Gaon said, squeezing Yohan’s arm and drawing his attention away from Gaon’s lips. “I don’t want you to agree to anything just so we can have sex.”

“I can talk.”

“I mean, reallytalk. If I ask a question, I just want answers. That’s how we can avoid hurting each other. Usually, you make vague statements that mean nothing and eventually it blows up in both our faces because I draw all the wrong conclusions. If we’re going to do this, my biggest condition is that we talk to each other.”

Yohan knew that. Most of their fights escalated because they didn’t communicate when they should have. Question and answer. Right? It could be that simple if Yohan allowed it to be, right?

“Alright.”

“You have to be able to ask for stuff too.”

“I ask for things.”

“Do you?” Gaon asked back. “You set traps and beat around the bush till I do what you want. Just ask me anything. You’re my hyung now, right?”

Yohan’s insides felt mushy and giddy hearing Gaon speak that way.

“Can you kiss me?”

Gaon smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him again. Yohan kissed back, holding on to Gaon like his life depended on it. When Gaon pulled back, Yohan went down and kissed him again before he sat back.

“One day,” Yohan said. “One day I’m going to…” he cleared his throat. “One day I’m going to ask you to do something that… uh… something that I don’t think you’d like.”

“Are we talking about the reason for your monthly appointments?”

“If we’re going to do this, we have to be honest, right?”

“Yes.”

‘Then you should know about the things that I want.”

Gaon stood, gently pushing Yohan against the bed as Yohan obliged, shifting to accommodate him. Together, they lay, facing each other.

“I’ve’ been reading about it,” Gaon admitted, picking at Yohan’s collar, and avoiding Yohan’s eyes. “Honestly,” he said, as his cheeks colored. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

“Really?”

“But I don’t know exactly how you like it.”

“I can show you.”

When Gaon met Yohan’s eyes, the open adoration in them was enough to take Yohan’s breath away. This foolish boy who thought he could handle anything. Yohan didn’t know he could ever feel this way about anyone. He had no idea anyone could ever feel this way about him.

“You can show me,” Gaon agreed, caressing Yohan’s lips. “I’ll learn anything from you.”

Yohan liked that too much. He scooted closer, lifting himself till his upper body was above Gaon’s.

“I like that,” he smiled.

“But I’m not selling my house.”

“You can keep it,” Yohan allowed. “This bed is growing on me.”

Gaon reached up, running his hands through Yohan’s hair, a gesture that was so reminiscent of that first time in Yohan’s office, when Gaon had done it. Yohan leaned into his touch, soaking it in, anticipating what it would feel like to have Gaon’s hands all over every other part of his body.

“Are we doing this or not?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Yohan said, diving down and capturing Gaon’s in a kiss so full of intention that he was quaking in his bones. He’d wanted this for so long and even though he’d thought he’d only get it as some broken thing, some secret, some stolen moment that could never truly be, he couldn’t believe that he was here.

He was getting Gaon, intentions bared, and wounds left open. Because he’d been a fool to think he deserved anything less than everything Kim Gaon had to offer.

#devil judge #bitafics

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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oscar-lettjohanssonloveme · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. Sandman (Ms Venable x reader)

i guess its kinda bad and i actually wanted to delete it, but here we are haha...

this fanfic is inspired by “Mr Sandman” (syml)..

google translate mwuah

summary: i dont want to spoil.. uhm.. Y/N thinks, her life with Mina is perfect and then a letter changes everything? something like that–

pt. 2: https://littlejeaniehugsbumblebees.tumblr.com/post/643509412185751552/mr-sandman-pt-2-miss-venable-x-reader

Whoohoo

"I never felt love .." Ms. Mead said.

"Neither have I ..", Ms. Venable answered.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Make her the cutest that I've ever seen

Give her two lips like roses and clover

And tell her that her lonely nights are over

Mina loved you more than anything else in this world. You were her good girl, her princess and you would do anything to make her happy. You looked after the house, you cleaned, you went to the supermarket. You would always ask how she is doing and put her needs above your own.

And at night you lay close to her, your head rested on her chest and she whisperes sweet things in your ear, every evening until you would fall asleep.

And you were so in love with your Ms. Venable. She was so damn smart and proud and her scoliosis had never been a problem for you. You helped her where you could and you loved to see her happy. You were a very emotional person, but Mina was always there to hold you tight.

And while you were taking care of the house, she was the one managing your finances. You found the strict, powerful Ms. Venable, who she was at work, incredibly attractive, but the Mina, who she was at home, was your heaven on earth.

Even though it was almost 4 years ago, you still remembered like it was yesterday when she came into the bookstore, you worked at, to ask for a book. She looked so beautiful when she leaned against the cashier's counter to discuss about Stephen Hawking with you. Many people would describe her as cold-blooded, but you loved her rational way of dealing with things.

Your life seemed perfect and then a little letter should change everything.

----

"I forgot to tell you, that you got a letter .." you said and leaned in the doorway to watch your girlfriend,who was at her desk working on a document.

"Give it to me .." she muttered absently, still staring at the paper. She held out her hand in your direction and you jumped into the room to put the letter in her hand.

"I've already opened it .." you said nervously.

She raised her eyes in your direction and raised an eyebrow.

"Since when are you reading my letters, Y / N?"

"I'm sorry..I thought it looked kind of important..you know, he's from your college .."

Her gaze froze at your words and you became even more nervous.

"The graduates from your year will meet next saturday and you have also been invited .." you continued slowly.

"I was wondering if we might- .."

"No." she said firmly, still staring at you.

"But Mina .." you moaned.

"I know you hate people, but I think you'd have fun .. something like that is cool .."

"I said no, Y / N ..." she repeated, with a hint of anger in her voice, before taking the letter and tearing it up.

"You are stupid ..".

You stomped out of her study angrily.

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

"You know, my college days weren't that great either .." you said, poking around at your food.

"But I would still go to this meeting .."

Mina sighed.

"You have no idea .. my college days were like hell to me ..".

Her mind wandered back in time to the lost girl she was in college. Everything was actually perfect, Mina was smart and loved to challenge her professors. But then she fell in love with the Meangirl and everything was upside down. She had never been in love and this girl was just as gay as her homophobic mother. And she was the darling of all professors and students. Mina had never even been in her field of vision, no matter how loud she shouted. And, of course, the Meangirl was dating Jonathan Cray, the blond handsome guy everyone adored. But as beautiful as he was, Mina had always seen how he had broken her heart. And every time she had wanted to kill him. She would have looked after her so well, not treated her the way he did.

"You don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to .." you said when you realized how thoughtful she was and put a hand on hers.

"Thank you, princess .." she said softly and smiled sadly at you.

When you lay in bed in the evening, your head was on her chest, as always, while you read from the book what you just had in common. One of your favorite habits in your relationship.

Unfortunately, Mina couldn't concentrate on that.

The floral scent of your hair made her think of her again.

You smelled like her.

Absent-mindedly, she ran her hand over your bare back.

Your skin was as soft as hers.

"Mina?" You asked, lifting your eyes to look at her when you noticed that she wasn't focused.

Your eyes had the same shine as hers, Mina realized as she stared into your eyes.

"I love you so much, princess .." she muttered, pressing her lips against yours.

And you tasted like her too, at least as Mina had imagined.

You were perfect

Sandman, I'm so alone

Don't have nobody to call my own

Please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

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

Mina herself had made sure that you didn't have to work next Saturday, she didn't want you to leave the house that day.

You'd been confused, but her explanation was too sweet and you took the day off.

"You know, I have the feeling we haven't had much time for each other in the last few weeks and I would love to spend Saturday with you, princess ..", she said and you were happy.

Now she was only working for a few hours this morning and then you'd have her back.

You got up from the bed and opened the door to Mina's closet, which was separate from yours.

A few years ago Mina had already given you a hoodie of her own and as cute as it was, you unfortunately had to discover that time had borrowed it quite a bit and the purple was almost washed out. You reached out your hand to her turtleneck and pulled it over your head. Minas lavender perfume got into your nose and gave you a feeling of security

Just as you were about to close the closet, you noticed a box, that was on the floor of the closet, labeled with your name. You knew you shouldn't be getting hold of her things, but your name was on it, so it was your business somewhere.

You bent down to pick up the box, a shoebox. Before you opened it, you sat down on the bed edge. You carefully removed the lid and stared into the box, confused.

There were drawings in it.

Very direct drawings,..drawings of you.

You took the leaves, which had become wavy over time, and looked at them. Mina had drawn that, you were sure of that. Nobody would pay more attention to the details than Mina. These drawings were good, you couldn't imagine why Mina should hide them in her closet. Which is why you decided to hang them up. You jumped happily into her workspace and your good mood fell when you looked at Mina's desk. She had forgotten her bag. She never actually forgot anything. Confused, you grabbed the bag, determined to bring it to your girlfriend.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Make her the cutest that I've ever seen

Give her the word that I'm not a rover

And tell her that her lonely nights are over

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

As you walked through the large building of kineros robotics, you couldn't help but wonder again about this strange work.

You walked past Jeff and Mutt's office and watched in disgust as the two of them were taking drugs as usual.

"Look! The prodigal son has found home .." Mutt exclaimed when he saw you and grinned.

The prodigal son?

Slowly you stepped into these idiots' office.

"Did Venny send you to update your system?" Laughed Jeff.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to answer, someone interrupted you.

"What are you doing here Y / N ?!", Minas voice barked behind you and made you flinch.

You turned around and stared into her wrinkled face.

"You forgot your bag .." you said quietly and held up her bag.

She inhaled sharply.

"Give it to me and go home, you shouldn't be here ..".

Without a word, you handed her the bag before you ran past her outside.

That was embarrassing and you couldn't explain why Mina was so angry. You just wanted to help her.

Annoyed, you got into your car and were about to start when something caught your eye. A young couple crossing the parking lot. He was holding a child, but your attention was on her.

Maybe you got crazy, but this woman looked like you.

Or did you look like that woman?

You could only stare and watch the couple go into the building. When the two of them disappeared behind the door, you blinked in confusion. That couldn't be possible.

Probably she just looked like you and besides, she was about 30 meters away from you.

You shook your head at yourself before you started the car to drive home.

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

Mina sat in her office and thought hard, should she be alarmed about what Jeff and Mutt had said to you?

A knock on her door made her jump and she let out a little scream as she saw who it was.

There she was, the love of her life, her hand still tied to Jonathan Crays. She balanced a toddler on her arm.

"Y / N ..", Mina uttered surprised when Y / N and Jonathan entered the room.

"Didn't you expect us?", asked Y / N and grinned.

God that smile.

"Not really .." Mina muttered as she turned red.

"We saw that you didn't register for tonight and now we've come to pick you up.."

Mina stared at couple. Jonathan looked totally bored and didn't look at all like he was enjoying being here.

"Come on .." Y / N pleaded.

"This is going to be fun ... do it for me .."

Do it for me.

These words ached in Mina's heart. She would have done so much for Y / N.

"I can't .." she began.

"I promised my girlfriend to spend the night with her .."

"Your girlfriend?" Y / N repeated with big eyes.

"Of course she can come along if she wants .."

"I really can't Y / N .."

Mina averted her gaze from the woman in front of her, who was now staring at her in disappointment

"We should go now ..", Jonathan suddenly muttered to Y / N.

"It was nice to see you, Mina .." she said quietly.

Mina

Only Y / N was allowed to call her that.

Mina smiled in pain.

"Have fun tonight .."

Jonathan nodded briefly and pulled Y / N out of the room.

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

Mina couldn't stop tears from running down her face as she drove home. This meeting today had shown her, what reality actually looked like.

She hated Jonathan so much, when he put his arm around Y / N when they left the building, it hurt so much to see and now she needed you. You were like her drug, she was addicted to the feeling of holding you in her arms.

"Y / N ??" she called for you when she got home.

"I'm in the living room ..", came your voice and Mina was glad that you no longer sounded angry. She took off her jacket and came walking into the living room, always leaning on her cane, of course.

She smiled gently at you when she saw you, but her smile fell as soon as she saw what you were doing.

"Where did you get this from?" She asked sharply, staring at the drawings.

"They were in your closet and I thought they were beautiful, so I thought I would hang them .." you replied, still seeming to be convinced that it was a good idea.

"I think they look so ... aggressive."

"Aggressive ..", Mina repeated slowly, still staring at you angrily.

She remembered the night she had made these sketches. Aggressive was a good word to describe how she felt back then. She had sat at the desk in the candlelight at night. She couldn't take it any longer. Y / N in Jonathan's arms..

With gritted teeth she had scratched the paper with a pencil. Tears dripped from her eyes onto the drawing in front of her, making the pencil blur. No matter how much it would cost, she was determined to take these sketches to her office the next morning to hand over to these two idiots Jeff & Mutt. You should be perfect.

Oh, Sandman, I'm so alone

Don't have nobody to call my own

So please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

"Hang it up .." Mina hissed at you.

"But Mina-".

"You gotta fucking hang it up .."

You rolled your eyes

"Hang it up yourself if it bothers you .. I try to do everything right the whole day and you're just mad at me .." you said and ran out of the room.

She looked after you and then began to unhook the drawings and toss them into the burning fireplace at the end. She hadn't imagined Saturday like that.

She ran through your house looking for you and finally found you lying on the bed in the bedroom.

"Princess?" She whispered softly as she entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Your back was turned to her

and you didn't move an inch

"Please talk to me .." she continued and reached out her hand to run through your hair.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You let out.

"You've been totally weird since this letter arrived here ..."

You frowned at her.

Mina swallowed.

"I'm really sorry that I was so unfair .. I've only think back to my college days so often over the past few days .."

She looked at you sadly.

"Then talk to me .." you answered and sat up.

"I don't want to talk about it .." she said, grabbing your hands.

"The only thing that matters, is that you know I love you .."

You nodded slowly and were about to say something when she grabbed your face and angrily pressed her lips against yours.

"Mina what-"

"You are mine .." she growled against your mouth and pulled you into her lap.

"Do you understand me? You belong to me .."

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

The rest of the weekend was perfect, you gave her everything she needed. Mina had always been a bit possessive and you liked that, but the last two days had been different, she was scared. While she held you in her arms, all she could see was Jonathan putting his arm around Y / N, he didn't deserve her.

Monday morning everything seemed to be back to normal, you went to work just like her and in the evening she drove home and was looking forward to finally seeing you.

But as soon as she unlocked the door, she noticed that something was wrong. Normally you would greet her with a beam of joy, but you didn't.

When she called your name several times and you didn't answer, she panicked to search your house. Finally she heard sobs coming from the bathroom. She ran there immediately, if her stick allowed it.

"What's going on, princess?" She asked worried when she saw you standing by the sink.

"Something is wrong with me .." you whimpered and turned to her.

"What are you talking about?", She frowned and got scared when she saw that your right hand was wrapped in a bandage.

"Please don't be angry .." you began, trembling.

"I wanted to cook and cut myself .."

Mina's eyes widened.

Damn.

She grabbed your hand and unwrapped the bandage.

"I don't know what that is .." you said and more tears ran down your face as Mina looked at the cut on your palm. Instead of blood, cables came out of the interface.

She wrapped the bandage around your hand again.

"Jeff and Mutt will be able to fix this .." she muttered.

"To fix ??" you stared at her in fear.

"We have to go to the hospital, there are fucking cables in my hand .. I need help .."

"You are perfect ..", she growled and pulled you into your living room by your healthy hand.

"What the hell is going on here Mina ??" you asked and yanked yourself out of her grasp.

She slipped past you and sat on the armchair by the window.

"Have you never wondered why you are always healthy? Or why you have no friends or we never visit your family?" She asked challengingly.

You paused.

"What are you talking about? I hate my parents, they kicked me out when I came out to them, but you know that .. And don't say I have no friends .. I don't want friends, that's it. The only person I need is you .. "

She let out an amused snort and rubbed her temples.

"Because I programmed you that way .." she said finally.

"Programmed .." you repeated and you felt sick as you slowly realized what she was getting at.

"Y / N you are my creation .. look at yourself, you are flawless .. I have invested so much time in making yourself as perfect as you are now .."

You stared at her. Is that supposed to be a joke?

"I'm one of your robots?" You asked quietly and stumbled backwards.

That's what Mutt meant by "the prodigal son". But that made no sense, your memories, your family ... They all seemed so real ?!

You let yourself fall into the chair behind you.

"You are not just any robot .. you are my robot .." Mina said and came over to you to kneel in front of you.

Those were the strangest words she'd ever said to you.

You felt like you were about to throw up.

"You're perfect, you look like her ...", Mina said and reached out her hand to smooth your cheek with her thumb.

"Like her?" You gasp. Tears welled up in your eyes. Immediately you thought back to yesterday's woman ... So you weren't unique. A cheap copy from a stranger.

"Look at me and tell me that you are not happy with me ..", Mina looked at you sadly.

All you could do was stare at her. You had been together for 4 years and she had lied all the time. Who knows, maybe it wasn't even 4 years and just a few months.

"I didn't tell you, because I love you.", Mina said, as if she could read your mind.

"Because you love me? I thought honesty was the most important thing in a relationship .." you took her hand from your cheek and stood up.b

"Y / N, I created you .. Without me you wouldn't even exist ..", Mina said and leaned on her stick to get up as well.

"You're crazy .." you muttered and ran into the hallway. Mina hobbled after you.

"What is that supposed to be, Y / N?" She asked when she saw you put your jacket on.

"I'm leaving .. you scare me ..".

You grabbed your car key before heading to the door. Your hand wrapped around the cold doorknob, but something prevented you from opening.

You just couldn't. She had given you everything you ever wanted and even though you just found out that most of it was a lie, you just couldn't leave. Where should you go?Your whole life revolved around this woman and you loved it, she made you feel special.

Tears dripped quitetly on your hand, which was still tightly gripping the iron doorknob.

"You can't .." you heard Mina say softly behind you.

"You can't leave me because I programmed you that way .."

Programmed ..

You let out a sob at her words.

You slowly turned to her, she was standing a meter away from you and smiled sadly at you.

"Come here, princess .." she said and opened her arms.

You didn't hesitate for a moment and jumped into her arms to hold on to her while you cried.

"Shh everything will be fine .." she whispered in your ear.

"You are mine and that's the only thing that matters .."

Oh, Sandman bring us a dream

Make her the cutest that I've ever seen

Give her two lips like roses and clover

And tell her that her lonely nights are over

Oh, Sandman, I'm so alone

Don't have nobody to call my own

So please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson x reader #american horror story #mr sandman

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