#there are too many italics in this and also he's not very mean. whoops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nothinghcppens · 4 years ago

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when nothing’s said- fred weasley

masterlist

pair: fred weasley x slytherin!female!reader

summary: y/n has known the weasley twins since first year and wanted nothing more than to befriend the pair, but one of them wants nothing to do with her. never one to back down, she worms her way into their lives and captures the heart of fred, whether he likes it or not.

warnings: slight swearing, italics is memories

a/n: first hp fic!!! thank you for all the support on my marvel fics so far it means so much <333 i’m gonna start a taglist so message me if you want to be added! and specify if you want to be added to marvel, hp or both! also requests are open!

“wicked.” you heard the voices of fred and george weasley chant behind you. their voices still managed to boom over the loud chatter of zonko’s. they were looking at the new line of products that had been added to the shelves. you were in your last year at hogwarts and had been through your entire school career with the twins. however, you had a love-hate relationship with them.

being sorted into slytherin in your first year immediately made them dislike you, their deep rooted hatred for slytherins being the cause of that. you met on your first day, in the great hall before the sorting ceremony. you heard their murmurs about pranks and tricks they could play on each professor and a small smile crept on your face.

“oi! what you smiling at?” the one on the left asked, you later found out to be fred.

“i strongly suggest you don’t prank professor snape. that won’t turn out well on your behalf.” you replied. your parents were high up in the ministry of magic and were well respected individuals in the wizarding world. they had told you all about the professors at hogwarts and what to expect when you arrived.

“oh yeah? i don’t know about you fred, but i don’t think professor snape stands a chance against us.” the one on the right said, george, you now know.

“you’re absolutely right, george.”

“y/n y/l/n!” professor mcgonagall announced and you stepped up to the sorting hat.

“oh? a y/l/n? i remember your mother. you two are very similar. wow, i see. very cunning. very ambitious... slytherin!”

and that was all it took. that budding friendship, gone. it was more fred than george, well at least that’s what you seemed to notice. fred had a very sort fuse and could never seem to control his anger towards you, george seemed to tolarate you a little more.

you had many run ins with the them throughout your years in hogwarts, many of them to fred’s demise.

“hey george! you said you needed help with potions?” you called, jogging slightly to catch up with them.

“yeah, you’re like crazy smart at it and snape doesn’t like me.”

“snape doesn’t like anyone.” you stated.

“he likes you.” he replied.

“it’s only because she’s slytherin. he doesn’t care that she’s the smartest in our class.” fred complained.

“you think i’m smart?”

“everyone thinks that.” he said. you send him a confused look, did he just compliment you? “i mean, you like to rub it in everyone’s face that’s all.”

“ignore him. library after dinner?”

although the fred disliked you and george only spoke to you for help with potions, their friend lee jordan had a soft spot for you and you two actually got on very well.

“y/n!” lee called. he pushed through the crowds of children to where you stood near the entrance.

“hey lee.” you greeted with a smile, “where are dumb and dumber?”

“drooling over new products, what’s new?” he replied.

you chucked, “usual for them then.”

“who are you with?” he asked.

“uh, y/f/n. she’s looking for something to get her brother.” you explained.

lee nodded his head, “how about you two join us for some drinks at the three broomsticks?”

“hmm a chance to piss off the twins? how could i resist?” you teased.

“meet us there in like half an hour?” he suggested.

“of course. see you then.” you said, winking at him and leaving to find your friend.

you scanned the busy store in search for y/f/n, noticing her talking to adrian pucey.

“hey, y/f/n, adrian.” you greeted. adrian and your friend both smiled warmly at you.

“afternoon, y/n.” he said, “me and y/f/n were planning to head back to the common room, want to join us?”

“actually, lee just invited me to the three broomsticks. why don’t you come with us?”

y/f/n scoffed, “what? just to see you and fred bicker like a married couple the whole time? thanks but no thanks.”

“it’s not my fault he doesn’t like me! i’m only going to talk to lee anyway.” you explained.

“uh huh, sure you are.” she mumbled.

“oh shut up.” you said, laughing lightly.

“i need to pay for this stuff,” y/f/n stated, gersturing to the items in her hands. “you guys wait here and then we can walk you to the three broomsticks.”

you and adrian made conversation until she came back, robes pockets slightly bigger than before she left.

“shall we?” adrian said, letting you guys leave first.

the streets of hogsmeade were filled with excited students, snow falling on their heads. you wrapped your coat around you tighter, feeling the harsh breeze under it. the wooden sign of the three broomsticks came into view and you saw lee and the twins standing outside.

“well, i’ll see you guys later.” you announced, waving at the pair as you walked away.

you approached the trio of boys and greeted them, “good evening boys.”

“where’s y/f/n?” lee asked.

“oh her and pucey wanted to go back to the dungeons.” you explained.

“what the fuck lee? you said we were waiting for angelina.” fred spat.

“whoops sorry, must’ve forgot.” he joked with a large smile on his face.

fred groaned in annoyance and walked into the three broomsticks. “what’s got his knickers in a twist?” you asked.

“he just fancies you.” george replied, with a smirk.

“oh yeah, who wouldn’t.” you joked. you stepped into the dimly lit pub and swept your eyes across the busy tables. george came in behind you with lee and lead you to a table where fred sat with a scowl set on his face. him and lee went to get butterbeers for the table, leaving you two alone.

“hey sunshine.” you said, sliding in beside him. his mouth stayed shut and his eyes stayed trained on the empty booth in front of him. “you cant ignore me forever.”

“actually i can, sunshine. and i will.” he replied.

“merlin, you’re so dramatic. is this only because i’m an evil, muggle-born murdering, slytherin? or is there something else to it?”

he scoffed and turned his head to look at you. “oh come on! just because i’m a slytherin doesn’t mean i’m evil.”

“i’m pretty sure it does.”

you let out a shocked laugh, “grow up fred. i’ve never done anything to you. you’re the one that pranks my friends and i! and fair enough some of my house mates are wankers but me and y/f/n haven’t done anything to you.”

he opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it immediately. “i think you need to let go of this petty hatred towards me.”

“i think he does too.” lee announced as he approached the table with two butterbeers in his hands. him and george sat on the other side of the booth from you and slid two glasses across the table.

“he’s not one to back down easy is my brother.” george said.

“very stubborn so he is.” lee added.

“right that’s enough you two.” fred groaned, taking a swig of his drink.

“anyway, did you listen to that record i gave you?” lee asked you.

“yep, i’ve been listening to it on repeat. my roommates hate me for it.” you replied, chuckling.

“you like muggle music?” fred questioned.

“yeah it’s actually how lee and i became friends, he heard me whistling a song by queen and began singing along. since then we’ve been giving each other albums to listen to.” you explained. you took a sip of your butterbeer.

“wicked, what album was it he gave you recently?” he asked. out of the corner of your eye you saw george and lee subtly high five each other and begin having their own conversation.

“it was parklife by blur, it came out last year.” you said.

“i think i remember lee playing that one. when you give it back i’ll make sure to listen to it.”

you and fred spent the next hour bonding over your love for muggle music. you were surprised that he listened to so much and you guys actually had a very similar taste in music.

“do you remember professor lupin?” you asked. fred glanced over to george and smiled lightly.

“uh yeah, vaguely.” he replied with a laugh.

“well one time i was going to ask him for help with my essay on vampires and he was listening to david bowie! i mean i knew he was my favourite teacher but that just made me love him even more.”

“bowie huh? i can see that.” he said, nodding in approval.

“oi you two.” george stated, catching both your attention. “we’re gonna head back.”

“do you want to go?” you asked.

“you two go on, we’ll stay here for a bit yeah?” he replied, turning to look at you for confirmation. you nodded with a smile which fred returned.

george chuckled and winked at fred who just rolled his eyes. you watched the pair leave the pub and turned your attention back to fred.

“it must be fun having so many siblings.”

“it is, they’re so much fun to prank.” he chuckled. “want to go for a walk?”

“you want to go for a walk with me?” you asked with feigned shock.

“shut it, come on.” he grabbed his glass and finished the leftover butterbeer at the bottom before pushing you slightly to get you out the booth.

you slid out and grabbed your coat that you had abandoned earlier, putting it back on.

the cold air hit your face as you opened the door, fred stepped out behind you. he sucked in a breath, “bloody hell it’s freezing out here.”

“good solve detective.” you joked.

“being a cheeky bugger is my job.”

“well now you’ve got some competition.” you laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you walked down the main street. a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the snow fell on the ground. the crunch of your shoes against the snow was all the could be heard.

questions began to flood your head, why was fred here with you? what made him change his mind? shouldn’t he hate you? surely talking about music wasn’t enough for him to get over whatever made him despise you?

“okay i have to ask.” you blurted. fred glanced at you and nodded, signalling for you to continue. “why are you here?”

he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“don’t you hate me? i feel like you shouldn’t be as nice to me as you are being right now, considering you avoided me like the plague from first year. i’m not sure what i did, but i’m just confused on how you seem to no longer hate my guts-“

suddenly his lips were on yours and you froze, he was kissing you? why? you pulled back in shock and looked up at him, glancing between both his eyes.

“why did you do that?” you asked.

“i don’t hate you. i never have. i was pissed off myself for liking you, for thinking you were beautiful.” he explained, “you are a slytherin and for some stupid reason that made me push you away.” he placed his hands on your arms, “i’ve been raised on the idea that slytherin’s are all evil and are all with them. but i know now, that’s not true. so i’m sorry.”

“merlin you are one soppy bastard aren’t you! i accept your apology don’t worry.” you said, “i knew you secretly didn’t hate me.” you smiled up at him.

“how could i? you’re a catch darling.” he replied with a smirk.

“anymore of that and my head will be bigger than yours.” you joked. “anyway, i believe i owe you something.”

“what?-“ you leaned up and kissed him before he got the chance to say anything else. he smiled against your lips and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. you lifted your arms up around his neck and laced your hands together.

fred pulled away first, breathing heavily. “wait till george hears about this. godric he’ll go mental.”

“he told me that you fancied me earlier, should’ve believed him.”

he chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours, “what’ll your family think when you tell them you’re dating a weasley?” he asked.

“woah, woah, woah. dating are we?” you teased.

“obviously, love. unless that’s not what you want.” he replied, placing his hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb across your lips.

“i’ve wanted that since the moment you called me smart.”

“i wasn’t subtle at all was i?” he asked, cheeks going slightly red from embarrassment.

“not really now that i think about it. but i was oblivious.”

fred chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against your lips again, exhaling a laugh through his nose.

“can we continue this somewhere warm? i’m freezing out here.”

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #fred and goerge weasley

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 5 years ago

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BTS Reaction| Their s.o speaks French

Just a disclaimer I do not know very much French so anything in italics is meant to indicate that the reader is speaking French.

Namjoon

You had been standing in line at the grocery store for the better half of 20 minutes now, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

“I just wanted some icecream. This is ridiculous.” Namjoon chuckles at you.

“I mean the line is moving a little bit? Sort of.. maybe?”

“You’re not helping. By the time we get to the front my icecream is gonna be melted.”

“Sorry. You want to put the icecream back and we can go to another store? Or maybe we can go to the icecream parlor up the street?” You’ve come this far and you aren’t giving up now so you shake your head. A moment later the aisle number light starts flashing, signaling that they need a manager’s assistance.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This is ridiculous! Why do they only have one aisle open in the first place on a Saturday!” Everyone in line has turned around and stared at you and Namjoon is also looking at you, rather confused. “What?”

“You’re speaking French baby, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh! Oops! My bad! You don’t want to know what I said anyway, it was just a bunch of curses.”

“Jagi!”

“What?! I’m mad okay?”

“Why don’t we put the icecream back and I will take you out to the parlor instead. It’ll be much quicker than this.”

“Okay, let’s go then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jin

“Ah this stupid freaking stove. Why won’t it light?! And where the hell does he keep the cooking utensils? They aren’t even anywhere near the forks and knives. Or the pots and pans. I swear everything is backwards-“

“Y/n?” You turn around when you hear Jin’s voice behind you. “What are you getting so angry about in here? You only speak French when you’re mad about something.”

“I’m mad because nothing in your kitchen is where it’s supposed to be and the damn stove won’t light!” Jin stares at you, blinking his eyes slowly at you.

“Still speaking French, love.”

“Oh. Sorry. I said nothing in your kitchen is where it should be. I’m trying to be nice and make my boyfriend breakfast but I can’t find your spatula, or your pots and pans! And your stove won’t light.”

“Jagi, look up.” You do so and see they are hanging from the ceiling just above the island.

“Oh.. oops.” Jin walks over and then opens a drawer in the island and there are the spatulas and other cooking utensils. He turns the gas stove on and lets it click for a few moments until it lights and then turns the fire down.

“You’re too cute sweetheart. Do you want me to help you cook?”

“Nope! I’m going to make you breakfast so you just sit your handsome face in that chair right there and wait for it to be done.”

“Can’t wait then.” Jin kisses your forehead before sitting down as you told him to.

Yoongi

You were exhausted after such a long day with Yoongi. You had went to the studio with him, making sure he took breaks and ate his meals and took care of himself. When you got home you flopped down into the bed, immediately falling asleep. Yoongi walks in and sees you sprawled out on the bed, leaving no room for him. He chuckles and pokes your side.

“Y/n scoot over.”

“No.”

“Baby come on. You’re taking up the whole bed.”

“Then go sleep on the couch. I’m comfy.”

“Okay I think I definitely heard the word couch in there. If you just told me to go sleep on the couch you’re gonna get it.” He digs his fingers into your side and starts tickling you mercilessly.

“Stop it! Yoongi Stop please I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry what was that? You’re speaking French, angel. I can’t understand you.”

“I said stop! I’ll move! I give up!” Yoongi looks at you with a triumphant smirk on his face as you scoot over to your side of the bed.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a brat Min Yoongi.”

“Think you should be talking about yourself there sweetheart. I wouldn’t have had to resort to such tactics if you would have just moved.” You both are glaring at each other but burst into laughter.

“I love you, goodnight Yoongi.”

“I love you too. Goodnight y/n.”

Hoseok

Hoseok comes home late one night. You are already in bed, snuggled underneath the covers and he absolutely coos over how adorable you look. The light from the hallway shines slightly on your face and you scrunch up your nose. Hoseok quickly shuts the door, not wanting to wake you but it seems that’s already too late as you are stirring now.

“Hobi?”

“Yeah, it’s me sunshine.” You smile at him and he moves to lay next to you.

“I missed you today. I just want to be close to you always.”

“What was that?”

“I said I missed you because I always want to be around you. I just love you that much I guess.” Hoseok laughs.

“You’re speaking French y/n. I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh.. oops.” Hoseok chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

“It’s okay. Now let’s try that again?”

“I said I miss you because I always want to be around you and I love you too much.” You feel him smiling against the top of your head where his lips are still pressed there.

“I love you too. And I missed you as well. Why don’t you come with me tomorrow? Maybe I can teach you some of our new choreography.”

“Really?! That would be amazing!” Hoseok doesn’t know what you said but judging by you enthusiastic response you must have said yes.

“Then it’s settled!”

Jimin

You and Jimin were lying in bed, your head resting on his chest as he sang softly to you to help you sleep. You perk your head up and smile at him, moving to kiss him before you drifted off to sleep. You are almost asleep when Jimin kisses the top of your head. Without even thinking you just blurted out “Je t'aime.” Jimin tenses up immediately. He doesn’t know very many phrases outside of his native language, but he definitely knows that one. You’ve never told each other that you loved one another before. His heart absolutely soars at this. He hears you let out a soft snore after that and his heart sinks a little, the happiness being short lived. He wonders if you would have told him that if you weren’t half asleep. Maybe you were dreaming and sleep talking and weren’t meaning to say it to him? He’s troubled by this now and can’t sleep. He lies awake for another hour before he feels you moving around in his hold. You glance at the clock and look up at Jimin, surirprsied to see him looking back at you.

“What are you doing awake?” He looks at you rather confused. “Ah, sorry. What are you doing awake, Jimin?”

“I was just.. thinking about something?”

“Oh really? What?”

“It’s just.. never mind it’s silly.”

“No really what’s bothering you, mon amour?”

“Amor? Love? Did you mean what you said before then?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Right before you fell asleep you told me you loved me in French.. at least I’m pretty sure. Je t’aime means I love you doesn’t it?”

“Oh..” Your face turns bright red. “Y-yeah that is what it means um. Yes I did mean it.” Jimin smiles so widely at you his cheeks puff up and his eyes disappear which you find so endearing.

“I love you too then y/n. So much.”

Taehyung

Taehyung had invited you over to play video games with him. He was learning how to play a new game and he wanted to teach you too, thinking it would be a fun way for the two of you to spend time together. You are halfway into your second match and you have caught on rather quickly. However video games tend to bring out your temper and before long you are yelling at the TV.

“Oh for the love of.. Did you see what that asshole just did?! I’m going to find him and go camp his body and make him wish he never killed me, forget the objective of the match.” Taehyung stops playing and turns to look at you. Seeing the angry expression on your face paired with your pout makes him chuckle. You snap your gaze over to him.

“What are you laughing at you think this is funny do you? Is there friendly fire in this game don’t think I won’t kill you too, fool.” Taehyung looks at you now with his head tilted.

“What did you say?”

“Um.. I said I love you and you’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Aww thank you sweetie! Although you know I don’t believe you one bit right? I gathered the fact that you called me a fool I do know that word because I have heard you use it a lot when you’re mad.” You turn away and blush, the game completely forgotten.

“I’m just messing with you sweetheart. I’m not mad. Come here.” He holds his arms out and you jump onto him, hugging him tightly. “Maybe no more video games for now. Your temper gets pretty bad and I don’t want you to develop blood pressure issues because of me.” You chuckle into his neck and place a soft kiss here.

“Okay Tae. You wanna watch a movie instead?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Jungkook

Jungkook had asked you to come over to watch a new drama with him. Everyone had been talking about it and said it was amazing so you wanted to find out for yourself. It’s about halfway through the season and the main actress had just been cheated on by her boyfriend.

“The nerve of that asshole! How could he do that to her?! Oh boy Jungkook if you ever cheat on me or I won’t be sitting there crying like she is you’d be dead where you stand.” Jungkook isn’t entire sure what you said but he knows he heard his name mentioned and the word dead. His eyes widen slightly.

“I’m kidding.” He’s still staring at you. “Oh whoops. I said I was kidding about what I said… which was also in French so you probably didn’t understand me did you?”

“I heard my name and the word death that was enough for me.” You burst out laughing at that.

“Ah, never mind Kook. It’s nothing. I was just messing with you anyway.”

“Just guessing here, did you say if I ever cheated on you, you’d kill me?”

“Ah, something of that sort yes.” Jungkook laughs at that, wrapping his arm around you tighter and placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You never have to worry about that y/n. I love you too much and I would never do anything to hurt you.”

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #rm #jin #min yoongi #suga #jung hoseok #jhope #park jimin #kim taehyung #v #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook

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franklyshipping · 5 years ago

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An Unorthodox First Date ~ A Markiplier and Crankgameplays Ego Fanfic

This is from a snazzy prompt from the AWESOMELY snazzy @amazingmsme AND I CANNOT WAIT TO WRITE THIS CUTE TICKLY ROMANCEY THINGY WOOO LET'S DO IT!

Blankgameplays couldn't deny that he was nervous, but he was also filled with excitement. Bim Trimmer also couldn't deny that he was nervous....in addition to being incredibly excited. Bim Trimmer had mustered up the confidence to invite Blank to be a guest on ''Hire My Ass'' wherein Blank would be pretending to be going for Bim's assistant position and would have to answer silly trivia questions, all in the name of simple good fun. You may be thinking of course, why would Bim have to muster up confidence simply to ask Blank to be on the show? Now....that is where it gets rather sweet. Bim had rather strong feelings for the strong, silent, edgy young ego....but little did he know that Blank harboured the same feelings for him in return.

This was going to be wonderful.

Blank had accepted when Bim had asked him, but had had to refrain from jumping for joy, he wanted to play it cool with Bim....he wanted him to think he was cool and enticing. Bim was so cute and charismatic and confident....and Blank just adored him, he was so bright and gorgeous in so many ways, and being able to spend more time with him was something that Blank was never going to pass up. So here he was, being sat in his official contestant seat in Bim's studio by one of the production team...and as his gaze went across the set, there he saw the charismatic man himself....staring right back at him.

Bim's breath caught in his throat when he saw Blank's eyes on him....those beautifully unique, sharp eyes that made Bim feel like Blank was seeing right into his soul. He nibbled his lip nervously as a technician touched up the blush on his cheeks in preparation for the cameras and studio audience; Bim was never usually nervous for a recording....but this was special, he had someone in his midst who he actually wanted to impress and make happy. Bim couldn't wait to be bold, to be playful....and to be a little flirty too. Bim sent Blank a soft, reassuring smile though, just as a subtle sign to tell him that he could back out if he wanted to; the last thing Bim wanted was to bring Blank into an uncomfortable situation.

Blank though, of course smiled back. He trusted Bim, and he was excited to see what was going to be in store. With that, they both took a giddy breath each before Bim went to his mark in front of one of the cameras on stage, and cleared his throat whilst fiddling with his shirt cuffs; seeing Bim in his tight suit, especially from behind, made Blank feel....a few things. He fought a smile though and drew his gaze away from Bim's ah, behind, as the curtains were opened to reveal the studio audience....and Bim began the introductions.

'Ladies, gentlemen, gentlefolk! Welcome to another episode of Hiiiiire Myyyy AAAAAASS!!'

Bim raised his arms with a wide grin as the crowd cheered, and he backed up on the stage until he was standing adjacent to Blank, who he now gestured to as he continued.

'IIII'm Bim Trimmer as you all know, but tonight my guest is fresh on the screen people, iiiiit's Blankgameplays!'

Blank smiled sheepishly as he gave a little wave to the audience, and he felt a warmth inside him when he saw people smiling and waving so kindly at him....I suppose Blank had always associated this sort of loud, glaring scenario as something overwhelming, but now he was here it didn't feel like that. Seeing the crew smiling at him from behind the cameras along with how kind the audience were....made Blank feel so much more comfortable.

'Heya.'

Blank spoke softly, smiling a side-smile as he then mustered up the courage to look at Bim.....oh jeez he was handsome. I mean, he was handsome constantly, but seeing him on his own stage, excited, enthusiastic, and doing what he loved, just seemed to make him more beautiful. Bim smiled, his heart was pounding so fast, but he kept his cool.

'So my dear guest, how are you today?'

Blank smiled more....but he didn't want to reply so simply. He'd chickened out so many times when it came to flirting with the guy he had feelings for, and he was NOT going to chicken out this time. He looked up to Bim as he replied in a soft, purred tone.

'I'm good thanks. I would ask how you're doing but ah....you look pretty damn good to me.'

Blank made a point of looking Bim up and down, and giggled a little when he heard a few whoops from the audience. Bim's jaw nearly dropped, and he thanked the lord that all the stage make-up was covering his real developing blush.....Blank had just flirted with him....this was the best day of his life. Of course though, Bim defined professionalism....and besides, it would be rude not to reciprocate.

'Mmm, I bet you say that to the countless handsome men begging for your attention.'

'Are you counting yourself among them Mr Trimmer? Only, I don't see you on your knees.'

Numerous hushed, whispered 'oohs' echoed out from the crowd as they eagerly observed the flirtatious quips between Blank and Bim....this was definitely going to be an episode viewers weren't going to forget in a hurry. Bim and Blank did have to swiftly get back to business, since there was a show to run after all. After painstakingly refraining from engaging Blank in a verbal war, Bim straightened up, and let the show begin.

'As much as I love this game of ours, there is a bigger one that must be played. Apparently you want to be my esteemed assistant, but of course, I don't accept just anybody....so you're going to answer some questions for me. Get them right and you win....get them wrong however and ah.....well, you'll see....'

Bim winked at Blank slyly, which gave Blank chills as he tried to wonder what Bim had planned. Soon though, Blank had to refocus....maybe, just maybe, if he got everything right he could avoid whatever Bim's cryptic punishment was. Maybe.

'Blank....are you ready to play?'

Blank nibbled his bottom lip, then looked at Bim from beneath the hood of his black hoodie, a confident grin in place as he replied.

'Bring it.'

The audience cheered, excited to see how sassy and confident Blank was, his kind of attitude was what they craved. Bim was equally as excited, and he had to hide how giddy he was at seeing Blank coming out of his shell like this, it was gorgeous; Bim wasted no more time, and began. He grinned and snapped his fingers, making a large screen mounted on the wall light up with life and display text as Bim spoke it.

'Very well. Your first question is this: The ''Cairina moschata'' is the scientific name for what bird? A) The Sebastopol Goose, B) The Muscovy Duck, or C) The Cattle Egret?'

....Blank was so thankful that it was multiple choice, because now Blank realised that these questions were going to be practically impossible to answer! If Blank had just read that query on the screen then he couldn't have even known how to BEGIN pronouncing the phrase in italics! He took a breath and focused though, he wasn't going to let himself be rattled. He flicked his eyes over the options as he fiddled with his sleeves....well, the italics phrase had complicated words, and ''Sebastopol'' sounded pretty complicated too....so that was the logic that Blank ran with.

'Okay.....okay my answer is A) The Sebastopol Goose.'

The room was so quiet that you could have easily heard a pin drop. Bim was quiet, no doubt increasing the tension in the wake of Blank's answer as he paced around his attractive contestant. Their eyes met...and Bim smirked, inhaling in a hiss.

'Ohhhh I'm so sorry.....but I'm afraid that is incorrect.'

Before Blank could react, he felt metal cuffs clamp around his wrists at the arms of the chair, as well as at his ankles at the chair legs. He was trapped, immobilised....vulnerable. Blank gulped and gasped, tugging fruitlessly as he heard the audience gasp excitedly....they and he were thinking about Bim's earlier alluding to punishment for incorrect answers. Bim chuckled, smiling down at Blank as he purred.

'The answer we were looking for was actually B) The Muscovy Duck. Now, I know you must feel disheartened at getting something wrong so early on....but don't worry....I have just the thing to motivate you to get the next questions right....probably.'

Blank shivered.....seeing Bim so gleeful with glinting eyes really made his cheeks heat up....Blank couldn't help but feel that Bim was particularly attractive when he behaved like that. Before Blank could ask what exactly this motivation was to be though, all became clear. Two metal appendages unfolded from the back of Blank's chair, both wielding soft, fluffy feathers....which now danced at the sides of Blank's neck. Motivation indeed.

'W-Wohoah w-w-wahait wh-whahat the fuhuhuck?!'

Blank squeaked and descended into stammery giggles, twitching and trying to scrunch his neck as he heard the audience gasp and coo in delight at his predicament. That wasn't all Blank heard though. Bim was chuckling with cheeky glee at it all. Bim had known Blank was ticklish thanks to a few reliable sources, and had been dying to see how truly sensitive he was....Blank was already cute beyond measure in his eyes, but seeing him like this just put him in a whole new league of cuteness!

'Ah ah! Language! We ah, don't have the funds to bleep out naughty language and ah....I wouldn't want to gag you.'

Blank's cheeks got hotter as he spluttered with embarrassment, but he was the sort of person who fought back harder when he was embarrassed. As he struggled in his bonds, he glared up at the attractive asshole and retorted.

'Fihihight mehe Trihihimmer!'

Bim let out a dramatic gasp, putting his hand on his chest as he turned to the audience.

'Why how RUDE!'

The audience laughed at Bim's dramatics as Blank kept giggling his heart out, feeling so damn flustered. He couldn't believe Bim was doing this to him, making him lose his composure and blush so much, it was so mean....and yet, Blank didn't completely dislike it. Either way though, Blank figured that being rude wouldn't exactly help him in this situation.

'W-Wahahait Ihi-....I-I dihihidn't mehehean ihit!'

Blank tried to resist tossing his head so he could look up at Bim with big apologetic eyes, making Bim hum softly in thought....but Bim couldn't resist that sweet, cute pleading expression. Darn his loved up heart.

'Mmmm....well, given that you're under duress, I think I can believe that.'

Bim reasoned audibly, before snapping his fingers which spurred the feathery tools to fold away like they were never even there. Blank giggled residually, filled with after-chills from the feather tickling; his eyes flicked upwards to Bim, despite his bashfulness, as he whispered.

'Th-thahank yohou....'

Bim Trimmer's breath caught in his throat....wow he was cute....Bim do not melt I repeat do NOT MELT.

'You're more than welcome....ready to carry on?'

Phew. Blank nibbled his bottom lip, thankful that he'd managed to recover from that onslaught....but flustered at the fact that he was still restrained; he knew that there was more to come....which made him more excited to continue than ever.

'Y-Yeheah....I don't give up easy.'

Blank grinned up at Bim, who laughed and turned to the audience with a charismatic smile.

'Well THAT is what we like to hear!'

The audience cheered once more, before Bank straightened up in his chair in the wake of the second question popping up on the screen.

'Your second question is this: ''Testabantur Inflictam'' is the Latin translation for what word? Is it A) Instantaneous, B) Inspection, or C) Infatuation?'

Blank's mind whirred at this....okay, he didn't know Latin, but maybe he could try and figure it out? I mean....inflictam sounded kinda like inflict, agh but then there was fricking testabantur....wait....test-abantur. Inflict....test....I mean, to inflict a test could be seen as an inspection, right? Blank broke out into a smile, thinking he'd figured it out.

'Uhh....okay uhm....I'm gonna go for B) Inspection.'

Silence reigned in the studio once more for that sweet dramatic effect, with only the subtlest whispers emanating from the audience. Blank looked to Bim excitedly, thinking he might have gotten his first win....but his face fell when he saw Bim smirking deviously.

'I'm so very sorry, but that's not the answer we were looking for. The correct answer was actually C) Infatuation. It seems like your mind is not yet motivated enough....but I think we can fix that.'

Bim purred, winking playfully to the main camera. Honestly, if Blank didn't know any better he would have thought that Bim actually WANTED Blank to get all of the answers wrong! Meanwhile, metal appendages unfolded from Blank's chair once more, but this time from the arms of the chair....and this time bearing two very soft, supple blusher make-up brushes rather than feathers. Blank's eyes darted between the two tools as they got closer to his torso, and he hurried into stutters.

'C-C'mon c-c-can't we talk about th-this?'

Blank looked up at Bim, who had sauntered over and casually leant against Blank's chair, grinning as the brushes slip under Blank's t-shirt.

'I think it's a little late for that.'

Bim giggled when Blank squealed and threw his head back as the fluffy brushes fluttered up and own his lean sides at an impossible speed.

'Nohohoho plehehease notmytorsodammit c'moHOHON!'

Blanks giggles got louder and louder, since it seemed that the very dips of his sides (where the brushes were now swirling about in) were particularly sensitive. Blank was wriggling from side to side like he was attempting a salsa whilst his cheeks became a wonderful dark pink.

'Ahahaaawww, isn't he cute everybody?'

Bim cooed, flashing a smirk to the audience who, to Blank's embarrassment, cheered and cooed to Blank too. I mean, one person is somewhat manageable, but a whole audience full of people wanting to tease you? That was just unfair!

'SHUHUHUSH IHIT!'

Blank wailed amidst his hiccup filled giggles, jiggling desperately as the fluffy brushes fluttered over his tummy nice and softly. At Blank's wail though, Bim gasped! He and the audience were simply admiring his cuteness, and yet Blank had the audacity to order them to shush it?! The nerve!

'Why how rude AGAIN! I have half a mind to just let you be tickled for the rest of the show!'

Blank hiccupped even more as he replied particularly quickly, and particularly cutely, to that particular threat. Oh I wonder why.

'BUHUT Y-YOHOUR OTHEHER HAHALF IS MEHERCIFUL AHAND LOHOVELY!'

....Bim huffed. Dammit, that retort was too good and too adorable to dismiss! Also, getting a compliment like that from Blank made Bim feel very warm and fuzzy inside; yes people he is hella smitten. He snapped his fingers, thus making the tools retract away, before waggling his finger at Blank with a playful, purse-lipped smile.

'You're lucky that I like you!'

Blank caught his breath, and felt a little butterfly jitter inside him tummy as he looked up at Bim.

'Ihi like yohou too.'

Blank was soft spoken and softly smiling, and Bim felt his cheeks heat up even more under his make-up; for a moment he was frozen, but then remembered that they had many, many eyes upon them.

'Oh, y-you're too sweet! A-Ahem uh, Question Three!'

Bim hurriedly looked to the screen, and Blank giggled to himself; though Bim had make-up on, he could guess what was hiding at his cheeks....and that made Blank feel pretty good.

'What makes the gestation of seahorses different from all other animals? A) The males carry the offspring, B) Seahorses spin in a continuous counter-clockwise motion whilst gestating, or C) Seahorses remain entirely stationary during the complete gestation period?'

....now however, Blank's eyes were wide with panic. First off, what the frick was gestation?! This most certainly wasn't good, I mean, the previous two questions hadn't been good either, but this one was ESPECIALLY not good. Blank could only stutter as he re-read the question again, and again, and again.

'U-Uhh....uh it....uhm....'

Bim smirked at his stuttering, goodness he was cute.

'Time's tickling Blank-oh sorry, I meant ticking!'

Bim chuckled amidst his ''accidental'' error of wording, which got giggles from the audience and a flustered whine from Blank.

'I need an answeeeer!'

Bim continued, raising his eyebrows at Blank....and Blank figured that if he didn't give an answer, any answer, then the repercussions would not be good. So he hurriedly just blurted out his reply.

'B! I-I choose B!'

His frantic reply spurred the audience to ''ooh'', wondering whether luck would be on Blank's side for this question. Alas, Blank already knew he was wrong before anything was even said....Bim's feral grin told him all.

'....oh Blank....this really isn't your day is it?'

One snap of the fingers later, and the audience gasped as Blank squeaked....because somehow, his legs were moving. It was quite the clever contraption in the chair, you see Blank's ankles weren't actually tied to the chair legs, they were actually tied to extensions of the chair that just LOOKED like the chair legs. Now though, those extensions were straightening out so that Blank's feet were facing the audience. As soon as the manoeuvre was completed, Blank gulped when Bim sauntered over to his feet with gleaming eyes.

'May I?'

Bim didn't wait for an answer before he started taking off Blank's shoes and socks; as you can imagine, the young emo was rather spluttery and embarrassed.

'N-No you may not!'

Blank's voice was as high pitched as it had ever been, but alas it came too late, for now he was completely barefoot. Blank's and Bim's eyes met, the flustered and the mischievous, and the latter purred with a chuckle.

'Oops....too late.'

Bim raised his hand, winked, and snapped those fingers. Two metal appendages unfolded once more....and bore the finest, softest looking paintbrushes that you have ever seen. Blank's pale feet scrunched up tight in anticipation....but as soon as those soft fibres flicked and stroked up and down his soles, Blank just went ballistic.

'EEEHEHEHEE NOHOHO NOTTHEFEETNOTTHEFEETNOTTHEFEET!!!'

Bim's eyes lit up....had he actually found Blank's death tickle spot?! His lips were parted in adoring awe as he watched Blank writhe and laugh wildly...he was so gorgeous.

'Not the feet huh? Are they your big bad tickle spot?'

Bim teased in a breathless, teasing tone, making Blank nod frantically as the evil brushes flicked into his tight wrinkles with ease. Blank already had mirthful tears in his eyes as he cried out.

'YEHEHEHES AHAHA MAHAKE IHIT STAHAHAP!!!'

Blank thrashed in his restraints as he laughed and laughed, his face burning from seeing Bim's awe and glee, as well as from hearing the audience calling out babyish teases to him. To make it all worse, Bim ended up being inspired by the audience too.

'Awww poor baby has tickwish footsies!'

Bim cheekily skittered a few of his fingertips over the tops of Blank's feet as the brushes tried to worm their way under Blank's toes; lemme tell you though Blank was NOT going to have that. He had his feet scrunched as tight as they could be, and Blank's face was scrunched as he used every ounce of will to keep those brushes out.

'NOHOHO TEHEHEASE BIHIHIM! PLEHEHEHEASE!!!'

Blank writhed and tugged, and if the chair hadn't been affixed to the stage then Blank would have absolutely made it topple over by now. Blank was letting out desperate whines through his laughter, which spurred Bim to smile down at him fondly as his finger snap echoed through the studio.

'Mmm, I suppose I can't let you break just yet, we do have one question left to go after all.'

Blank gasped and softly sniffled as the tools retracted, folding away elegantly as the young man went a little limp in the chair. Blank blinked a few times....if he hadn't been unkempt before this all stared then he certainly was now. His hood was down, revealing his jet black mop of hair that had started to stick to his forehead in a way that made Bim certainly feel particularly attracted to the young man; in this state he looked even more ruggedly handsome than usual. Blank meanwhile was feeling a) sweaty, and b) flustered, which resulted in this very whiney, half-hearted retort.

'Bihite meheee....'

Bim giggled, then slipped closer to Blank so he could whisper and wink.

'Perhaps we should wait until the cameras are off.'

Blank giggled as a happy shiver went down his spine, and he even winked back. They'd both been skating around one another with their flirting and so-forth, but now they were skating together, so to speak. Blank jerked his head to get the hair out of his face as Bim excitedly grinned and turned back to the audience, his arms wide open as he spoke like the wonderful showman he was.

'Now, it's time for our final question!'

The audience clamoured with applause as the climax of the show approached....and the final question came on-screen.

'Which weather condition is well known to NOT be ideal when making caramel based products like spun sugar? A) Freezing Weather, B) Dry Weather, or C) Humid Weather?'

Bim kept his eyes on Blank as he read the question....and couldn't help but giggle when Blank let out the lightest, and yet the most dejected, whine in the world.

'Aww what's wrong?'

At Bim's query, Blank looked up at him with his bottom lip pointedly sticking out; which did make the audience aww at him because he was an absolute cutie pie.

'All these questions have been so mean!'

Blank huffed softly, to which Bim merely shrugged innocently.

'I don't choose them Blanky, they're generated at random by our quiz system!'

That made Blank narrow his eyes up at Bim. He was narrowing his eyes in a way that said that he knew that was an absolute fib and that SOMEHOW Bim had orchestrated this to make him lose and get tickled into oblivion! He was smart not to say it aloud though, so he merely let out a little grumble before looking back to the question. This turned out to be less of a quiz game and more a guessing game.

'....I choose B) Dry Weather....'

....at this point Bim honestly just wanted to fib and say that Blank was right with how much he was pouting and, still, panting....but Bim's evil side was taking precedence. He simply loved tickling Blank too much. Bim inhaled with a light hiss as he turned to the audience, who had started to giggle in excited anticipation.

'Dear....oh....dear....'

Bim snapped his fingers.

'I had such high hopes for you Blank, but fate decided it was not to be. Now you must face the consequences.'

As soon as Blank had known he was wrong, he'd started to wonder where he'd be targeted next, his armpits maybe? His knees? It was a no to both those theories though....when all the appendages from the previous rounds with all their dastardly tools reappeared....and attacked all at once. Feathers at his neck, blusher brushes at his sides and tummy, and fine paintbrushes at his feet. They were all in action and all driving Blank to hysteria.

'AHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA BIHIHAHAHAHAAA!!!'

Blank legitimately thought he was going to go insane, he couldn't believe all his tickle spots were being attacked at once! He was scrunching his shoulders and feet desperately from the flicking feathers and brushes, whilst trying to somehow curl up his torso to hide his tummy from more evil, fluffy fibres. None of it helped though. Plus, hearing the crowd cheer so gleefully at his demise just made it all so much more torturous.

'I regret to say that with your results, you won't be receiving the position as my assistant. I'm so sorry Blank, I was really rooting for you y'know?'

....Blank oh so badly wanted to yell 'Oh really? Then why do you look so fricking HAPPY?!' but ah, coherency wasn't really on the cards for Blank right now. All he could do was endure the tickling and the teasiness of Bim's nonchalant words, all while wishing that he could curl up into a ball and hide.

'PLEHEHEHEHAHAHA NOHOHO MOHOHOOOORE!!!'

Bim hummed at Blank's wild squeals for mercy, grinning as he saw paintbrushes swirling over the pads of his toes, evidence of a blusher brush dusting his tummy, and feathers fluttering behind the crooks of his ears. He took a moment to admire his mirth and ticklishness, before grinning and swivelling to face the audience, before hollering.

'What do you lovely people think? Holler if you think our sweet guest deserves some mercy!'

For a second, Blank was expecting silence to ring out....but he vastly underestimated how much Bim's audience adored him. No sooner had Bim's words left his mouth, Blank almost felt deafened by the sudden increase in volume of cheers, whoops, clapping, and general clamouring from the audience. The people obviously loved seeing him being tickled, but they were very lovely people and could tell when someone deserved mercy.

'AHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHANK YOHOHOU!!!'

Blank cried to the audience, which made Bim smile fondly before he snapped his fingers for the final time. All the tickle tools retracted, and the restraints binding Blank's wrists and ankles snapped open, thus leaving him as a properly free man. As Blank giggled and cutely curled up in his chair, Bim skipped to the centre of the stage and clapped his hands together with a grin.

'Well aren't you lot a sweet little bunch! You've all been so great tonight, give yourselves a big hand!'

Blank wiped his eyes a little as he smiled at the audience, he never thought that a vibe of screaming people could be so pleasant. Then though, he developed a bashful smile as Bim gestured to him dramatically .

'Aaaaand let's give a big hand to our sassy, sweet guest....BLAAAANKGAMEPLAAAAYS!'

Blank bowed his head a little with a smile at they cheered once more, giving the crowd a little wave....honestly, he just couldn't stop smiling, he was so happy from all of this. Then, Bim turned to fully face the audience once more, spreading his arms so wide that it looked like he wanted to hug the whole audience at once.

'And now finally, this has been Hire My Ass, with me your host, Bim Trimmer! Goodnight everybody!'

After a few moments of Bim waving to the audience and blowing them kisses as the curtain closed, and after a countdown from the production manager, the cameras were off and it was all done. As soon as that happened, Blank smiled to see Bim hurrying up to him. Bim was still himself of course, he never faked his love for showbiz or any of that, but without the eyes of all those other people he himself was a tad more bashful.

'H-Hey a-are you okay? I'm s-sorry I didn't tell you a-about the tickling beforehand, I-I-I didn't go too far did I?'

Bim had just put his spectacles back on and was adjusting them nervously as he looked over Blank's curled up form; Blank thought he was going to melt when he saw Bim's serious, genuine concern for him. Blank decided to stand up from the chair and un-crease his hoodie and jeans, giving Bim a soft grin as he replied.

'I like to think I'm made of tough stuff Trimmer....as for you though...'

Blank had started off with a soft purr, to let Bim know he was really okay....before descending into a growl and grabbing the lapels of Bim's jacket and pulling him close. In public, Bim was confident and Blank was meek....but in private it was a whole different story.

'Do you have ANY idea how much you affected me? How flustered I felt from every smile and stare you sent my way?'

Bim squeaked at the sudden man-handling, but couldn't help but smile at hearing how much he'd affected Blank....he had so hoped that his flirts and such-like had worked and made Blank feel nice things. Bim's eyes flicked up to meet Blank's as he whispered.

'....well....i-it w-was somewhat my i-intention....'

Blank blinked, taking in a quiet gasp of air as he processed what he was hearing. Bim...meant to flirt with him. Just like Blank had hoped to flirt with him too.

'....fuck subtlety.'

Don't get him wrong, Blank had enjoyed the flirting and the entire playful setting....but ah, he certainly was NOT going to wait around for the guy he liked to just drop into his lap, he was going to claim him....and Bim seemed pretty happy with that notion. So, Blank kissed Bim, and Bim kissed Blank back, whilst both subconsciously agreeing that their next date would have less Latin, gestation, and spun sugar....but maybe just a little infatuation.

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC WOOOO LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOO LUV YOUS XX

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lxiewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Capture the Flag

The complete fic of the PJO au from klance au month

also tumblr decided to take out most if not p much all my italics but i’m too lazy to put them allll back in bc I’m an italics ho and there would be a lot

Ao3

Lance scrutinized the stance of the baby warrior in front of him. Circling around the young half-blood he kicked her right foot farther behind her. “You would have a better center of balance if you place your right foot here—you're right-handed right?”

She adjusted her stance and nodded, gripping her sword tighter in her fist, hand shaking a bit with effort. Lance bit down a sympathetic smile. She was a fresh camper; just dropped off by a satyr a few days ago. He could see the embarrassed flush on her cheeks and her eyes darting to the other campers practicing their sword fighting.

“Okay, so loosen your grip a bit. That much tension ends up straining the tendons in your elbow for whatever reason, trust me.” He scooped his sword up from the dusty ground next to her and took his stance. “Okay, let’s start with the basic attack.”

They took a step in sync, swiping their swords down with one hand slicing the air in front of them. Nadia blocked her invisible opponent with her wooden shield while Lance brought his sword up in a block. Together they sliced down once again, the air whooshing at the speed. Stepping back into formation Lance turned to his pupil with a big grin. “Good! With enough practice you’ll be beating flying pigs and hellhounds.”

Nadia offered him a small smile before biting her lip. Dropping her sword, point down, into the dirt she asked, “Could I just… skip capture the flag tonight?”

He wrapped an arm around her slight shoulders. “Sorry, kid, Coran says the best teacher is experience. And our cabin is leading this time. Our own members can’t just sit out!”

“But--!” Nadia objected, gesturing helplessly to Lucas and Katy painting each others nails off to the side of the arena. One or two more of the others dropped off from practicing and went to relax and gossip in the shade, only a few still sparring on the field.

Lance ran a hand through his hair to cup the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at the baffled twelve-year-old. “Okay, so they’re more lovers than fighters. We’re a work in progress; sue me. But I got a feeling about you, Nadia. We’re Aphrodite cabin, we can go to fight just like anyone else, we just look better doing it.” He winked to punctuate his statement but she still looked skeptical. Finally he rolled his eyes, “Fine,I got Hecate cabin, Demeter, Athena, and the Apollo kids. And,” he said, raising his voice to be heard across the entire arena, catching the attention from their other cabin members. “If we win I’ll treat everyone to a spa day with my special face masks.”

When the clang of swords resumed, enough that they echoed around them, he snickered, not noticing the person that crept up behind him.

“So that’s how you get your team motivated. Bribery.”

Startled, Lance yelped as he spun around, shoving Nadia behind him, sword at the ready. His sword clanged against a familiar knife that extended into a sword, the dull side barely grazing his cheek.

Lance smirked, dropping his sword and smoothly ducking under Keith’s, bringing him in very close to the son of Ares. Close enough he could smell cedar and smoke from the offering fire. “You’re just jealous you can’t get your cabin to be a team on anything.”

Raising a brow Keith looked around the arena, probably taking in every flaw, every sloppy stance or messy attack. “At least my cabin can fight.”

Frowning, Lance crossed his arms. He debated firing back, saying that they’re doing their best or even taking a jab at Keith’s cabin. Instead he stepped aside, out of Keith’s space, to introduce his new recruit.

“Keith, meet Nadia of Aphrodite cabin. Nadia, this is Keith, head of Ares cabin.”

Lance watched how Keith’s stance softened, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. Biting down hard on his lips Lance forcibly turned to watch Nadia tentatively shake Keith’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Keith nodded, respectfully and still stupidly soft. “You too, Nadia.”

Clearing his throat Lance jerked his head towards Virgil who was getting disarmed way too many times in a row. “Hey, Nadia, why don’t you go over there and spar with Virg?”

Nadia’s hazel eyes darted from one head counselor to another before scurrying off to the struggling thirteen-year-old.

Watching her go, pointedly not looking at the other counselor Lance asked, “So, have you come here to check out the competition, Kogane?”

“Something like that,” Keith murmured.

Heat flushing through him, Lance bit down on his lip. He willed his cheeks to cool, unprepared for Keith’s answer. They’ve known each other for four years. They went on their first quest together, fought together, bickered, picked strawberries, did all the stupid camp activities dangerous and mundane. They didn’t do this! They didn’t… flirt. They fought, they pushed, they challenged each other. Ever since they went on their last quest to retrieve his mom’s girdle—which was really just a fancy belt that shifted to an accessory that would compliment the wearer’s outfit, kinda lame—Keith’s been… flirty.

And it’s not in Lance’s head! He’s the son of the goddess of love and beauty he knows when someone’s flirting! And furthermore, he knew Keith. He knows when Keith is being flirty, which is so subtle he normally won’t notice but—

He knows. It’s exactly like that time he was flirting with this one guy two years ago when they were going to fix whatever was happening with Iris. Gods he was so annoying, always ”mission first, Lance” and the first guy to show interest in him and he’s all ”Oh, I like your weapon” “that’s a cool knife”.

And recently he’s been looking for him for help with strategies against other cabins or partnering up with him. Somehow their stupid fights seem more lingering, softer, the rough edges sanded down to a fine grain like the beaches back home. Where Lance can’t help but stay and run his fingers over it in fascination.

And he has no idea how to handle it.

Face, unfortunately still hot, Lance said, “Well, you better watch your back, Keith. ‘Cuz Ares cabin is going down.”

Keith scoffed, eyes twinkling, “Maybe you should worry less on Ares cabin and more on your own.”

“Oh, my cabin is great. We’re a well-oiled machine. We got everything down to a science.”Lance ignored the fact he could see some of his siblings in the corner of his eye, stopping to look at them. Lucas and Katy whispering to each other and snickering. “We’re gonna whoop your ass, and I’m going to gloat it over you until the end of the summer.”

“Sure, Lance.”

“Hey, once upon a time Aphrodite was worshipped as a war goddess as well as love. Don’t underestimate us. Aphrodite cabin is gonna whoop your ass!” Behind him there was a weak cheer from his siblings and Lance had to restrain a sigh.

“Sounds like a lotta talk.”

Okay, he’s had it up to here with him. “I bet you that we whoop your butt!”

Keith paused, giving Lance enough time to hear what he just came out of his godsdamned mouth and regret. “Okay,” Keith drawled, “it’s a bet.”

“Fine! What’s the bet?”

Keith shrugged, the obnoxious orange T-shirt stretching over his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something later.” Smirking, Keith started towards the exit, calling out, “Good luck with the troops, Lance!”

When he disappeared Lance buried his face in his hands, groaning in them.

From the side he could hear Katy shout, “Does this mean no face masks?”

Lance sighed as he adjourned the meeting with the other head counselors. Many were skeptical when he proposed the strategy to them, Pidge kept interjecting with other strategies—those Athena kids are such know-it-alls—but he was insistent.

He knew Keith and he knew how he worked. Impulsive, direct, but crafty and a quick adaptable thinker. He might play at strategy for a while but it won’t last long until he rushes in.

Lance has faith in his team. They might be outnumbered and facing against the kids of the god of war but they got this! They totally got this! Keith might have the numbers and strength but Lance and his ragtag group got the razzle-dazzle!

He made his way to the mess hall to devote some more garlic knots to his mom for some divine luck in capture the flag. He had full faith in his team but some godly help couldn’t hurt.

At the mess hall, he made the rounds from table to table, not staying too long for Coran to start pointedly clearing his throat. Most of the cabins he convinced to be on the side of love were because a) he was just that good or b) either they owed him a favor or he now owes them a favor. The only reason Hephaestus cabin was on Ares’s side was because Keith got to Hunk first damnit. And he saved his life during that fight with a giant pig but whatever.

He cornered his own cabin when Katy just got back from the offering fire. Bracing both hands on the table he looked at each member of his cabin in the eye. “You all know your roles?”

There seemed to be a simultaneous eye-roll across the table. Sophie waved her freshly manicured hand as if she was shooing a bug away. “Yes, yes, we all know what to do. Honestly, Lance, you’re way too into this game.”

Lucas snorted into his cup. “Oh, I don’t think it’s the game he’s into,” he said wagging his brows.

Giggles rose up around the table, each of his half-siblings chiming in at what that could possibly be. The only one not sticking their unwanted concealed nose into his love life was Nadia, who was a dear angel child who did not know what anyone was talking about.

Lance, face way too hot, closed his eyes and willed the blush from his face. Snatching a piece of garlic bread from Katy’s plate he chucked it at Lucas and hit him square between the brows. Lance turned to Nadia as Lucas was screeching about the grease and acne.

He looked into her hazel eyes and wiggled his brows, making her giggle. Crouching down he asked, “So, are you ready for capture the flag?”

She bit her lip, frowning so hard creases formed between her brows. “I don’t think I’ll be good at it.” She turned to look at him, eyes big and pleading, using every bit of what she inherited from their mother. “Do I have to play?”

Lance gave her a sympathetic smile, hand brushing her soft, brown hair from her face and tucking it up into her bun. “Unless you’re injured you gotta play, kid, Coran says.” At her silence he sighed and darted his eyes around, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper he gestured for her to get closer. “Listen, I got a really important job for you during the capture the flag alright?”

At her nod he leaned in to whisper her directions, her shoulders relaxed and she even chuckled. Patting her on the shoulder he stood up. “All you gotta do is stick with Romelle and you should be fine.”

He gave the rest of his giggling siblings a look, using the universal signal for ‘I’m watching you’ by jabbing two fingers at all of them. “Remember. No face masks unless we win.”

After a chorus of boos he left, restraining himself to only stick his tongue out instead of flipping them off because there are children.

“Real mature for a head counselor.”

Lance, for the record, did not squeak. He yelped. A very manly yelp. “Keith! What are you doing here!”

Keith scrunched up his face, nose wrinkling like a little bunny instead of the son of a war god. “It’s…the mess hall?”

Lance felt his face heat, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Spluttering he grabbed Keith by the shoulders, turned him around, and shoved him out of the mess hall.

Now, Keith might be mostly made out of solid muscle but he’s also a seventeen-year-old boy and Lance had witnessed him try to talk to a squirrel because he thought it was a type of dyad. Lance, similarly, has been on nearly every one of Keith’s quests and has just as much muscle. Moving him was not an issue.

The issue was feeling that muscle under his hands. How easily Keith let Lance maneuver him when sometimes he didn’t move his stubborn butt even for Coran. How stupidly adorable his face is, all scrunched up and cute.

It made Lance’s stomach twist and sweat in uncomfortable places and that was the issue.

“Nope! Nope, nuh-uh, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to steal our strategy! Not happening buster.”

Keith’s face slowly shifted from a confused bunny to a smug bastard. He tried to press his mouth in a line but Lance could see his smirk. Whenever Keith tried to not-smile he would get damning dimples on each of his cheeks. And there they were! Damning Lance to Tartarus.

At his glare Keith gave up, lips tilting into a full smirk, one dimple disappearing. “If you’re so worried maybe you should just give up now.”

Lance stabbed a finger in his smug, stupid face. “Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you? Just wait, you’re going to eat those words.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out won’t we?”

Cheeks burning for no good reason Lance opened his mouth to say something… only to find he had no words. Just a burning face and a heart beating way too fast.

Normally, Keith would fight back, say something just as petty and childish as Lance. Now, he fights back in a way that Lance can’t? Instead of pushing back he gives in and flipping sneak attacks him leaving Lance flustered and burning.

Smirking, Keith patted Lance on the chest before brushing past him to the mess hall, leaving Lance gaping at him still trying to find his words.

Lance helped slide a chest plate over one of the younger Hecate kid’s heads, securing the straps nice and tight. With that done he tied a blue handkerchief around their arm in a neat knot. The kid beamed up at him before scampering off somewhere. Their smile a shade bloodthirsty but that’s what he wanted to see! Furious little warriors that will kick Keith’s butt!

“Are you sure you don’t want me on the front lines?” A voice wheedled behind him.

Lance tipped his head back and groaned to the gods. “For the last time Romelle, I need you to hang back.” Leaning forward he lowered his voice, “I really need you to watch Nadia.”

Romelle threw up her hands, a whining noise escaping. “You’re putting me on babysitting duty? What if you break a leg? If I’m with you I could swoop in and cast a healing spell! Or, or, boost you with extra speed or strength and save the day! Oh, oh!” Lance took three quick steps back when the daughter of Hecate’s hands flew up in excitement, magic crackling off her fingers. “I’ve been working on some offense spells and this levitation spell. If I get close enough to Keith I could just levitate him and bam!”

Lance silently prayed to the gods to shut the girl up. “Romelle, please just watch Nadia?” Lance widened his eyes and laid it on thick. “You’re the only one that I can trust to protect her.”

Her lip pushed out in a pout, huffing, she crossed her arms and turned away. “Fine. But you are wasting my talents.”

“And I will forever regret it.”

She rolled her eyes, popping out her hip and pinning him with a stare. “I know you’re mocking me but you will regret it. And when you lose against Keith you’ll have no one to blame but yourself and I will laugh.”

Lance huffed and spluttered before settling on a stilted laugh. ”Ha, ahahaha, ha. No. Because I will beat Keith because I know him better than anyone here and therefore know the best way to defeat him!”

“Yeah but doesn’t that mean that he knows how to defeat you?”

“W-well, in theory—“

“Which is why you should put me in front He’ll never see it coming!”

Irritation grated on Lance’s last nerve as she rambled on. He loved Romelle and she was a key player in his plan but by gods she was annoying to deal with sometimes. She was two years younger than him and just as annoying as he was then. To a point she reminded him of himself, except more cringe—but that might just be him.

“—In fact, you should bring me with you to keep you from getting distracted by your crush on Keith—“

“Woah, woah, no, wrong,” Lance interrupted, taking Romelle by the shoulders and physically turning her and walking her forward. “No, nope, there’s no crush and you have your position. Just stay with Nadia and make sure she stays out of trouble.”

“—But!”

Lance pushed her forward towards where Nadia was fumbling with her shoulder straps. “Bye!”

Ignoring her complains he turned on his heel and marched away. Romelle was a sweet kid with ideas too big for her brain, and some of them were completely ridiculous! Him? Letting a crush ruin this? Nah, this has been in the works since Keith first flattened him on his back the first day of training. Sure, the rivalry might have not been at the forefront, especially with the last few quests but it’s still there! And it will continue to be there until Lance beats Keith.

Crush or no crush he will defeat Keith Kogane.

Lance waited in the front of his troops, the point in a semi-angular formation. He could barely make out the speck of red in the distance. The enemy’s flag.

He swallowed, feeling stones in his throat, pressing, making it harder to breathe. Sweat beaded up under his armor as he waited for Coran to blow the whistle, making his orange T-shirt cling to his chest under his chest plate.

As he stared at his goal with his friends and allies behind him he could almost feel his heart rate calm. He had a rock solid plan and a secret weapon. He knew Keith inside and out. In fact, Keith was probably snapping at James or Rebecca for poking at his plans.

Today was the day he was finally going to prove, at least to himself, that he could keep up with Keith.

The whistle blew and he could feel his lungs expand with humid air as he and team shouted, charging into the forest.

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest as his team broke into groups. Each group disappearing in the foliage and leaving the sword-competent veteran kids in front.

He and the first line of defense battled through the first wave of campers, the red handkerchiefs fluttering like butterfly wings with each disarmed kid. He let Francesca of Athena’s cabin organize a small troop to tie them up, uncurling a length of rope from her enchanted fanny pack—which, normally, hideous, now, very useful.

Lance scanned the woods around them, so far no one in sight. He could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, the clashing of swords and the dull thuds of weapons against shields. They couldn’t be more than a fourth of a mile away. His nose stung from the scent of smoke, someone—probably a Hephaestus kid—launching Greek fire at someone smoke rising off to the left of him.

“I’m going on ahead. Stand your ground here and wait for the archers to move up.”

Francesca didn’t look up from where she was tying up the other team. “Shall we proceed as normal or send reinforcements to—“ she nodded in the direction of the plume of black smoke.

Lance was already jogging ahead through the trees. “Send three of the archers over and go ahead!” he called over his shoulder.

Further away there was another explosion, more kids shouting in either fear or indignation. It seems like Keith didn’t waste time in bringing out the big guns. The quickest route is a straight line, after all.

He sprinted forward, uncaring to see if his group followed him, he was a man on a mission. Bursting through the trees and into a small clearing—that was smack dab in the middle way of the two flags—he shouted and brought his drawn sword down.

Another sword screeched against his as he stared right into the shocked eyes of Keith Kogane, close enough to see the whites of his eyes and the enlarged pupils surrounded by a galaxy of colors. They narrowed in concentration as he pushed against the sword. Lance smirking as he let him throw him off.

Keith didn’t look particularly surprised, maybe disgruntled at how Lance attacked first but not from his presence. Keith might be direct in his battle tactics but he was never one to search for glory for himself (something Lance learned about him after, oh, the fifth adventure he went on with him). He probably had another group headed for the flag but Lance wasn’t worried. They were fine.

Lance casually swung his sword around, twisting his wrist in what only looked like a complicated maneuver. “Surprised, Mullet? Thought I’d bring the fight to you this time.”

Keith lunged forward and swiped at Lance, making him dance back. Advancing, Keith slashed at Lance; his attacks practiced and smooth. Lance could barely keep up as he deflected each attack, each hit jolting his wrist making it ache.

Just as his back hit a tree he used his sword to guide Keith’s momentum from his swing to the tree trunk, his sword embedded into the bark above Lance’s head.

Keith panted, his chest heaving in his T-shirt, not even wearing any armor—the idiot. Sweat dripped from his temple and his eyes were lit up as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “What fight?”

Lance felt his face screw up and his heart speed up as anger and adrenaline mixed in a dangerous cocktail in his chest. “Oh, screw you.”

And he punched Keith in the stomach.

Keith’s wheezed as his breath left him, hand slacking on the handle of his sword. Lance kicked his chest, pushing him away and losing his grip on the blade. Lance tore the blade from the tree and threw it on the ground in front of him, face hot and chest tight.

“I might not be the greatest half-blood of this generation but I’m just as good a fighter as you,” Lance gritted out, heart drumming against his breastbone.

“What?” Keith wheezed, reaching out to grab his sword, stumbling to a stand.

It took a minute for everything to catch up to him but when it did Lance felt the adrenaline dip down, leaving him shaky but there’s just enough for him to say what’s been bothering him.

“We have been on practically every quest together since we came here when we were twelve. You lead practically every quest, you’re the best fighter, you are… so hard to chase after. I just—“ Lance wanted to look away. He wanted to look away from the realization flickering across Keith’s face. He swallowed hard and kept his head up. “I just want you to take me seriously for once.”

“Lance,” Keith started, eyes scrunching up, nose wrinkling. “What are you talking about? I always take you seriously.”

Lance sighed, shoulders slumping. “Dude—“ He barely heard the whistling of air, his arm moving before he fully registered the action. His sword clanged against a familiar sword, diverting its path from his face.

“Dude! What the fuck?!” he shouted at Keith.

Keith was already on the move, running toward where Lance knocked his sword and scooping it up before running at him.

Lance blocked when Keith slashed down, the contact reverberating down his arm. They pushed against each other, swords sliding, the screech of metal on metal grating Lance’s ears.

“I always take you seriously,” Keith gritted out before dancing back on light feet. “Why do I always choose you to be on the quests with me?”

“I don’t know,” Lance snapped back, out of breath, stepping back in to swipe at Keith’s leg, barely nicking the fabric of his jeans when he dodged. “Because Coran told you to.”

“No you, dumbass.” They circled each other; eyes open for any opening in their defenses. Keith went on the offense, sprinting forward to aim at the vulnerable parts of Lance not covered by his breastplate.

Lance caught Keith’s sword with his own, locking them together and wrenching Keith’s sword out of his hand. Before he could swing his sword around Keith tackled him to the ground. Lance hit the ground hard, sword falling somewhere and the breath knocked out of him, making him wheeze.

Keith sitting on his stomach didn’t help him with the breathing situation. A hand was wrapped around his wrist and another on his shoulder, pinning him down. Lance gasped for breath, neck straining as Keith was haloed above him like some sort of godsdamned angel.

“I choose you,” he panted, “because you always have my back. I trust you.”

Keith’s expression was fierce. Brows furrowed and lips pressed in a firm line, ready to attack if Lance dared to disagree with him. His eyes were flitting over his face, searching, open.

The trick with Keith is that his scowly face and general grumpy body language only made him look like a closed book locked in a box in an underground safe. His eyes were what gives him away every time, which is why he never wins the poker nights with any of the Hermes kids. That and he sucked at lying.

Lance huffed out a laugh, head falling back to the ground with a soft thunk. He convinced himself for years that when he and Keith were equal then he’d be good enough. He spent so much time trying to convince himself and others that he was just as good as Keith when, apparently, Keith always thought he was.

Gods, he just… really liked him.

“Why are you laughing?” Keith demanded, “I’m being serious here.”

Lance quieted until he had a big, goofy grin stretched across his cheeks. Keith was still glaring at him from where he was sitting on his stomach. “I know you are.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Gods, I’m so stupid.”

Keith’s mouth twisted like he ate a lemon. He eased the pressure on Lance’s wrist and shoulder, settling back onto the bone of his pelvis. “What was this about, Lance?”

“How about I tell you after I beat you?” Lance taunted, smirking up at him.

“I’m on top of you. I think that ship s—gah!”

Lance braced his feet against the ground, thrusting his pelvis up and jostling Keith into a tabletop position above him, his right arm still trapped but Keith’s left hand slipped to press into the dirt by Lance’s head. He used the opportunity to use his left arm to hug the one trapping his wrist at the elbow. Planting his left foot on the other side of the leg Keith has pressed against his side he pushed, toppling Keith over and landing between his thighs.

Keith was disoriented enough to allow Lance to swipe his sword from where it fell, hovering the blade above Keith’s throat.

Lance leaned over the demigod under him, his hair just long enough to fall forward and tickle his ears. He braced his hand against Keith’s shoulder, keeping him pinned just in case. His sword was close enough that with one sudden move Keith would need a medic and a ton of ambrosia.

Keith’s eyes were wide, darting back and forth between the blade and his eyes. Lance pressed harder on his shoulder. He didn’t want to actually hurt him but he still wasn’t about to lose either.

His cheeks were pink and he licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak when the woods erupted in cheers around them.

Lance straightened, head twisting around to see if he could see whose team was cheering. “Wait, who won?”

He stood up and wandered to the edge of the clearing. Where was his team? Godsdamn someone just tell him who won!

Behind him, Keith stood up, face hidden by his bangs as he dusted himself off. Combing his fingers through his hair Keith walked over. “Can you see the banner from here?”

Lance sighed and shook his head. The trees had too much cover and they were in a little dip between the two flags. Wherever he looked it was just more and more trees.

The cheering got louder, the trees shaking with celebration. From the direction of Keith’s base, a small crowd of screaming kids from the Ares and Hephaestus cabin surged through the foliage. Seeing Keith they cheered even louder, nearly popping Lance’s eardrums.

Crowding around them they grabbed onto Keith and hoisted him in the air, chanting.

Behind him, he felt a couple of hands on his shoulders. Lucas’s mouth was twisted in a rueful smile, squeezing his shoulder. Katy next to him, arms crossed and hair a mess of twigs and mud.

It took a hot second for everything to process. The exuberant cheers from the other team and how his own was tolerating it.

“We lost?” Katy sighed, chest moving with how deep it was, and nodded. She dug into her hair and flicked out a berry. Disbelief filled his entire being; he could feel his eyebrows crawl to the top of his forehead. “How?” He gestured to Keith who was finally being put down from his grinning team. “I had everything planned. I know him so well I might as well had his plans!”

“Lance,” Keith called, lips quirking at the side, head tilted slightly and eyes surprisingly soft. “You forget. I know you just as well as you know me.”

Lance pouted as he turned his marshmallow. The bonfire in front of him an excited red, so bright it could probably be seen from space. That color definitely came from the Ares kids, they were celebrating enough for the whole camp.

He wasn’t upset per se but he wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. He wasn’t bright red happy. Maybe a muted orange or a consolatory yellow—godsdamnit! He was so sure they would win!

He couldn’t help the pout on his lips as he let the marshmallow fall off to sizzle in the fire with a wet plop. Poking around the fire, letting the tip of his stick catch fire and watching it burn, he didn’t notice the presence that literally popped in next to him.

He jerked as Romelle and Nadia materialized into existence next to him. ”Holy Hera, don’t do that!” Romelle pouted at him, crossing her arms as she flickered in and out of existence like static. An ace bandage was slapped on her forehead and a Hello Kitty Band-Aid was barely hanging on to her chin.

Nadia settled in next to him, slowly becoming solid as Romelle’s magic wore off. He handed her a fresh marshmallow.

Romelle stomped closer, still not saying anything but clearly saying something. He eyed her warily as she glared at him, the flickering slowing down until she was fully solid. He bit the bullet.

“You couldn’t have done that during capture the flag?” he snipped at her.

Her hand shot out before he even registered her moving, smacking him on the head. “You couldn’t have told me I was a part of your little scheme?!”

“That’s because you can’t keep a secret for sh—“ Lance cut himself off and placed his hands on either side of Nadia’s head, ignoring her insulted look. “Shit,” he mouthed over her head.

Nadia smacked his hands off her head exclaiming that she knew what swear words were. She reached around him and snagged another marshmallow or three. Her voice was a little muffled as she tried to speak with her cheeks full like a little chipmunk. “When we were separated we were hit by green balls of fire. Romelle saved me but she was knocked out.”

Romelle gingerly touched her bandage, a dejected smile touching her lips. At his look she waved off his concern before squinting her eyes at him in a playful glare. “Next time, McClain, let me in on the plan instead of having your sister tell me when we’re under attack by Greek fire.”

Lance winced. “Sorry about that, won’t do it again.” He looked between Romelle and Nadia. “Other than that you two were okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Romelle exclaimed, waving her arm in a grand gesture as if to brush off his concern but only making it look like she was swatting at a mosquito. “When we were under attack I went bwoosh and Nadia was like aahhh, but in a good way. She even got a hit in before we were captured!”

“Yeah?” Lance looked over to where Nadia was blushing. “So you had a good first capture the flag?”

She looked over at him, dark cheeks still flushed with color from Romelle’s praise. “Green balls of fire,” she deadpanned.

Lance sighed, resigned and not willing to push it. She isn’t the first Aphrodite kid to be more of a lover than a fighter. And if she didn’t like it there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“…But it was fun.”

Lance felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead, a grin spreading over his face. “Really?”

With a tiny smile, Nadia nodded.

“I’m glad, Chiquita,” Lance said reaching over to ruffle her hair.

“We can totally pair up in the future,” Romelle added giving Nadia a side hug. “Now that we got a good strategy!”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Romelle, Keith already knows what I was planning. That was how he knocked you out.”

With a heavy sigh, Romelle crossed her arms and popped out a hip. “Ugh, that guy. He knows you too well.”

“Five years will do that.”

They all jerked to the new voice, Nadia releasing a little “eep” of surprise.

Keith settled in next to him on the log bench, legs stretched out in front of him with his hands tucked into a red zip-up over his orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. The fire reflecting in his eyes in reds and pinks, turning his normally blue eyes purple, as he soaked up its warmth. He had the barest touch of a smirk on his face. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that to surprise me.”

A few years back Lance would immediately think that Keith was mocking him. Rubbing the fact that he lost in his face and he would never be better than him. And, to be honest, a little voice still nags at him about it. At certain times like after losing a match or Keith being chosen for a quest. Telling him that he would never be able to be good enough, to catch up, be his equal.

But that voice has quieted. Because he knows Keith better and he knows himself better. He’s not a scared eleven-year-old running away from monsters that chased him out of his bed.

That doesn’t mean he’ll take his smack talk lying down.

“Hmm, mmhm, says the guy who I defeated today. Remember that? You know, when you were pinned down with your own sword to your throat? Hmmm?” Lance goaded, leaning ever so closer, smug smile on his face.

Red spread across Keith’s face, all the way to his ears and down his neck. “You just caught me off guard!” he shot back.

“Uh huh,” Lance was close enough to see the faint flecks of purple in Keith’s eyes. Could see how soft and smooth his skin was. A dumb, impulsive voice telling him to cup his cheek and run his thumb across it to see just how soft his skin was. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Keith scowled, lips pursing into a pout. “Whatever.” He pulled back, just an inch, and looked away, the color rising in his cheeks. “I wanted to talk to you. In—“ his eyes looked away, glancing over all the eyes on them, “private.”

Lance’s heart drummed against his breastbone. An unsteady beat that threw him off balance, unable to get back on his feet. They were too close. His heart was too fast. He had too many feelings. There were too many—

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” A group of, unfortunately, familiar sounding voices chanted.

—people.

Lance grimaced and buried his face to hide from the world. Could a magical earthquake open up underneath him and swallow him up, please? Like right now? Where are the gods when you need them?!

Godsdamnit, he was reconsidering on the no-facemasks but not anymore those ungrateful demigods. His siblings are the worst.

Lance stood up, cheeks hot, embarrassment making his chest tight. “Come on, Keith.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans and stalked off towards the lake, ignoring the suggestive catcalls as they left.

It wasn’t a full moon but there was enough light that he could make his way down to the dock easily. The lights from the cabins fading away as the half-moon guided him to where he could think without eyes on him.

“You wanted to talk, yeah?” Lance finally asked, knowing the answer. He slowed to a stop as they approached the lake. “I’m sorry if they embarrassed you.” In his peripheral Keith shrugged.

“I don’t care what they say.”

Lance nodded, watching how the moon’s reflection wavered in the water. The silence that fell over them wasn’t uncomfortable. Just…heavy. Heavy with a lot of things left unsaid. And things that should be. He sat down on the dock, legs dangling over the edge. Keith sat down next to him.

“Are you,” Keith started in this halting, careful way of his whenever he’s dealing with Lance’s emotions. Like every word to be weighed and judged before being deemed adequate. “Okay?”

Lance sighed, trying to get some of the poison out, his chest feeling a little bit lighter for it. “I’m cool. They’re just… so fucking dumb.”

Keith snorted. “They can’t be worse than my cabin. There’s a mutiny every single day. At least your cabin respects you and listens to you.”

“Oh, oh, oh, Keith, my man, my dude, you don’t know the psychological horrors my siblings would put you through.”

Keith side-eyed him, a smirk play on his lips. “Yeah… but you seem to handle it pretty well.”

Lance… couldn’t argue with that. He tipped his head back and groaned to the stars and the moon. ”Ugh, why are you so mature and shit?”

The low chuckled sent a shiver down Lance’s spine. He crossed his arms to make it look like it was because of the cold. “I don’t know, patience yields—“

“—focus,” Lance finished. Lance shook his head. “Gods, Shiro, off adventuring and still finding ways to make us mature adults.”

“I wouldn’t say that college in New Rome is an adventure—“

“It so is an adventure!” Lance leaned forward, eyes just as big as his smile as he tried to inject some of his enthusiasm into Keith’s grumpy butt. “It’s college. A couple of years ago that wouldn’t have been an option for us. Come on, man, just imagine it, going to classes, sleeping in a dorm, getting a degree. I bet you, you would have the time of your life.”

Keith bit his lip, brow furrowed and too slow in disguising his emotions from Lance of all people. His face smoothed out into bland indifference.

“So, speaking about bets,” Keith prompted, a touch too neutral.

Lance examined Keith’s face. Watched how despite his neutral tone and how indifferent he tried to come across the muscle in his jaw still jumped and the tense muscles around his eyes asked him to leave the subject for another day. He slumped back, shoulders dropping as he whined, “what kind of horribly embarrassing thing do you want me to do? Clean out the Pegasus stalls? Follow you around with a sign that says ‘Keith is the greatest?’”

He heard a snort next to him and he felt a small thrill of victory. A smile peeked through as Keith shook his head, face relaxed once again. He cleared his throat and turned towards Lance, the color high in his cheeks.

“You have to…” Keith trailed off, the muscles in his face twitching with little micro expressions that Lance couldn’t name. “You have to… uh, I want—“ Keith’s lips twisted into a pained grimace.

Lance smirked, “You having some difficulties there, buddy?”

Keith huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his red-stricken face. ”No, I just don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

His shoulders shook from his laughter. That was so on-brand for Keith Lance isn’t even surprised. “That’s the point, man. That’s what a bet is. Making someone do something they don’t want to do.”

“Well, I don’t want to make you do what you don’t want to do.” The spots of color high on Keith’s cheeks seemed to glow brighter as his back straightened, his honor and noble-ness no doubt bolstering him. Like a knight. It would be stupid if it weren’t so attractive.

Lance smothered a smile that was starting to creep up, though Keith could probably hear it in his voice. “How about… you tell me what it is or whatever. And if I’m, like, super against it I’ll tell you no.” He fanned out his hands in a nonchalant gesture. “Sounds fair?”

Keith gnawed on his lip and nodded. His thumb ran over his knuckles as he looked at the water instead of him, clasping his hands together to stop. His lips barely moved, the sound escaping in a breathy mumble as Keith stared daggers into the fire.

“…I’m not gonna lie, I have no idea what you just said.”

Keith groaned and covered his face with his hands, still resolutely not looking at Lance.

Feeling so incredibly amused at this apparent torture Lance bit his lip because laughing at Keith’s pain would be mean. Shuffling closer, he leaned into Keith’s personal space. Close enough that he could see the flush of his skin and the faint, faint, faint freckles he sometimes gets when out in the sun too long between his fingers.

Seeing how close Lance was Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his palm into his eyes. A heatedly whispered, ”fuck,” later and he bites out, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

Skkkkrrt. Wait. Rewind. “What?”

Keith instantly shot up, body turning, tense and jumpy. “Fuck, never mind.”

Before he could get too far Lance had a hand on his shoulder and the other grasping his sleeve. Somehow right next to him before he even realized that he moved.

“Wait. Yes— what— yes,” he stuttered out before his mouth could do any more harm.

He used his grip to gently turn Keith more towards him. He had his arms crossed in front of him, fingers gripping the fabric of the jacket, a scowl he hasn’t seen since their first year in place. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

His heart beat faster than when he faced down that Nemean lion. And somehow this was scarier than almost becoming cat food. Heat flared in his cheeks as he lowered his voice, cautious of the prying ears around the campfire. “I want to.”

Keith’s face softened, the scowl fading into a vulnerable look Lance had only seen a handful of times. He bit his lip and sat back down.

Lance sat next to him, not close enough to touch but enough for him to easily lean over and rest his hand between them. He didn’t want to push what already felt new and fragile. Baby steps. He was 96% sure that Keith would jump out of his skin and fall into the lake if he as much as puts his arm around him.

“Are you sure?” Keith blurted out, forcing Lance to drag his gaze from shark-toothed grins.

It’s almost as if he has Hermes’ flying shoes flying around in his stomach, kicking around and messing up the place. The idea of going out with Keith… that Keith wanting to go out with him… made him far too giddy for his own good.

“Absolutely. I told you I would say no if I didn’t right?” Lance bumped his shoulder against Keith’s. “You’re not calling me a liar are ya?”

Keith scoffed, leaning back on his hands, his fingers overlapping his. His fingers practically burned at the contact. “Never.” Those same fingers shifted and weaved between his, falling together like puzzle pieces. He smirked and looked over at him, hair parting so he could see his eyes. “I know you far too well for that.”

#vld #klance #PJO au #lance #keith #nadia #romelle #Swordplay and Strawberry Fields #lexwrites #whew boi it's been a hot second since i posted anything #hello

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deathofmissjackson · 5 years ago

Text

What would I do without you?

This is my entry for @keepingupwiththeparkers 4K celebration and for @the–sad–hatter fic writing challenge. (Even though I went over the word limit, whoops)

The prompts I used were “what would I do without you?” and “no one in the history of torture has been tortured with the torture like the torture that you’ll be tortured with”

Summary: You have been assigned to look after the new avenger, Spider-man. Peter makes you feel welcome on your first day at Midtown High, while he is making sure that you get home safe he discovers that you may be more than you seem.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem! Enhanced! Reader

Warning(s): Swearing and people being idiots

Word Count: 2679

Key: (F/N)- First Name, (L/N)- Last Name, (F/F/N)- Fake First Name, (F/L/N)- Fake Last Name

A/N: So, as I said this is my first fic so be gentle with me guys, I’d appreciate feedback and if you didn’t like it tell me why so I can improve. My memory’s a tad foggy so if I have messed up the canon timelines you can correct me in the comments or just accept that these are the series of events that happened in order for my story to take place. Oh, and I am not American so I had to do some research on American schools, I apologise if I got anything wrong. This takes place at the beginning of Homecoming but in this Ned already knows the truth about the ‘Stark Internship’. Also, your powers are a mix of Wanda’s and Loki’s with the added benefit of being half angel (hence the long-life span and the ability to shapeshift) :)

Prompts are in italics and bold

You’d been around for almost 2,000 years and Fury had you babysitting a kid. You’d agreed to join S.H.E.I.L.D after you saw how well they had handled the attack on New York a few years ago. You were there when the aliens attacked the city and had been present when Loki was taken away, not that they had seen you, only the shadow of your wings as you flew away, confident that they were able to handle the situation without you. That’s when you got the moniker ‘Angel of Death.’ You thought it suited you and you were happy to let them call you what they want as long as they left you alone.

When the fight broke out in Germany between the Avengers you stepped in, you wanted to leave Earth again and go and help another world, but you couldn’t do that if Earths best defenders weren’t defending it because they were too busy fighting each other. You found Fury and demanded to be put on the team. When the fighting was finally over you were introduced to the team minus Peter, (he had to go back to school) as Agent (L/N). Your wings only appeared when you wanted them to so no one would ever know who you truly were. They didn’t know your first name, they didn’t need to, it’s not like you existed in any databases anyway, such things didn’t exist when you were born.

Fury had taken your insistence on being recruited and you saying that you wanted to help the Avengers, as you meaning that you wanted to protect the newest Avenger. That’s how you had ended up here, walking into Midtown High with a backpack of your shoulder. You’d stopped ageing physically at 24 but you’d used your abilities to appear slightly younger so you didn’t look out of place in the school full of kids. Fury had created you an alias, you were now, (F/F/N) (F/L/N) a 16 year old, British, science nerd, You had transferred here when your Dad had got a new job in Queens. You walked into your first class of the day receiving a few strange stares as people tried to place you. One benefit of not being an actual avenger was no one had seen your face before. The outfit that you normally wore sported a large hood, kind of like the grim reapers, adding to the fear struck in people when they realised who you were. Yes, ‘Angel of Death’ definitely fitted you, not that the kids in the Chemistry class in front of you would cower in fear, more likely check you out, wondering if you are competition for the upcoming quiz, the winner had 5 points added to their overall score at the end of the year. You weren’t bothered, you knew everything you needed to know, being alive for 2,000 years meant that you had a lot of free time to research and read up on as many subjects that existed. Not that it really mattered if you passed or not, you were only there to make sure the kid didn’t get himself in any unnecessary trouble.

That’s when you spotted him, your target with his fluffy brown hair flopping over his eyes and the crinkle in the corner of his mouth as he laughed at something the guy in front of him said. You knew that it was Ned from the file Fury had given you. You liked to be prepared about these kinds of things, even though it was probably one of the easiest missions you had ever been on in your long life, you were gonna complete it to the best of your ability. You were not one to half-arse things. You sat in the empty seat next to him and gave him an award-winning smile. “Hi, I’m (F/F/N) (F/L/N).”

He smiled up at you, “Hi, I’m Peter Parker, this is Ned Leeds. I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t sound like you’re from around here?” Ned was now also looking at you, obviously intrigued to see what your answer would be.

“Nope, I’m from London, I’m here now because my dad got a new job, an international accountant, he works for some business around here. To be honest I’m not 100% sure but it means that we live here now. So, anything fun to do in Queens?”

The conversation flowed between you three and by the time the teacher finally called for silence Ned had invited you to help him and Peter build his new LEGO Death Star. When Peter had scoffed at Ned and said there was no way you’d want to hang out with their nerdy asses to build LEGO, you’d surprised him and said you’d love to. You would even bring snacks. The day went by quickly after that. You were in all Peter’s classes to his surprise, though not your own, he was the only reason you were there after all. He had told you all about his Aunt May and his ‘Stark Internship’ and how he wanted to work for Stark when he finished school. You, of course, knew exactly what the ‘Stark Internship’ truly was but he didn’t need to know that. It had surprised you how much he had warmed up to you in the space of a day, he told you a lot more about himself than you had thought he would, some of it wasn’t even in the file you had been given. He, of course, knew nothing about you except the name you had given him, and that you were there because your dad had a new job, both of these being a lie. You found yourself actually looking forward to spending the evening with him and Ned. You’d also met MJ at lunch and Ned had invited her too, but she turned him down, she needed to practise for a test she had the next day, you wished her luck and went to your last class of the day. That also went by in a flash and when the bell rang to signify the end of the day you and Peter headed to your lockers to meet Ned. Your locker was mysteriously right next to Peters and you gave him a slight smirk when he raised his eyebrows in surprise as you fiddled with the lock and it sprang open. “Lucky coincidences? you offered. He just beamed at you, turning suddenly when he heard Ned call your names. He was carrying a large bag, you assumed it contained the model you would be building.

The bus ride to Peters apartment was filled with light conversation and playful remarks as you got to know the other two better, only offering pieces of information about yourself when asked, even then trying to avoid those kinds of questions. You didn’t want to lie to them, finding it easier to just avoid the topic of you at all costs. It was easier when you reached the apartment. Your earlier suspicions had been correct, Ned’s bag did contain the Death Star and you were sitting on the edge of Peters bunk bed reading the instructions to Ned as Peter was in charge of finding all the pieces that were needed. It took hours, not that any of you noticed as you munched your way through the snacks you had brought. Packets of chips and bars of chocolate were sufficient nutrition for all of you until May had come home, calling out to Peter that she had brought Chinese takeout home for him and Ned. She walked into Peters room still mumbling about the queue in the restaurant and did a double take when she saw you sitting there. Her shocked expression quickly transformed into a warm, welcoming one. The very same smile that her nephew had given you at the beginning of the day. “Pete, are you going to introduce me to the girl sitting on your bed?” She smirked, keeping eye contact with you. You smiled back warmly as Peter sputtered out a reply. “OH, oh, um Aunt May, she’s new to Midtown, her and her father just moved here. She didn’t know anyone so Ned invited her to build th- “

“Peter.” Your voice cut across his, giving him a look then turning back to May. “While your nephew here managed to give you my life story, he neglected to give you my name. I’m (F/F/N) (F/L/N) its lovely to meet you, Peters told me so much about you.” Her smile widened, “I like her Pete, but I’m afraid I didn’t know she’d be here, or I would have brought more food.”

“Oh no, it's okay thank you, I really should get going.” You didn’t really have anywhere to go but you’d placed a protective barrier around the apartment so you knew it would be safe. You’d forgotten how tiring it could be to interact with people all day, having been on your own for so long. You felt secure enough in your own magic that you knew if something was to try and get through the barrier you would know and would be able to get there quickly. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Ned and Peter exchange a look. Ned seemingly remembers an assignment that he was supposed to do and makes his excuse to leave as well. As coincidental timing as it was, you didn’t question it too much, well at least you didn’t until Peter offered to walk you home. “I'm fine honestly, I don’t live that far away.” You reassured him, if he walked you home, he’d know you lived at Stark Tower and that was not ideal. So, you turned him down, despite his protests. You gathered your things, said your goodbyes to Aunt May and walked out the door with Ned, thanking Peter for having you and making your first day bearable. Now Peter had told you that he would let you go by yourself, but he had said nothing about the other guy. Telling May that he was going to go after you to hand you a book that you’d left in his room, he shoved his suit into his backpack and ran out the door, pausing briefly to change once on the roof of his building. He webbed his bag to the corner of the roof and pulled on his mask, asking Karen to track your whereabouts.

Peter’s Point of View

Although you’d promised (F/F/N) that you would let her go home alone you hadn’t mentioned what Spider-man would do. He was going to make sure that she was fine. You had felt an undeniable connection to her, all you wanted to do was protect her and make sure that she was safe. Little did you know that she could protect herself.

Your Point of View

Since you’d left Peters building you could feel someone watching you, you were on high alert, fingers brushing over the small knife that was hidden in the pocket of your jacket. You stopped as the feeling of eyes on you intensified, slowly turning around and observing your surroundings, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. A hand clamped over your mouth and a cold metal object was pushed into your back. “Don’t scream or we will make it worse” a gravelly voice threatened you in your ear. Peter was aware of what was happening, he had been one of the pairs of eyes on you, but before he could react you were already in action. You slammed your heel into your attacker's foot, he yelped out in pain, you twisted around and grabbed at the gun he was holding, he had been too surprised by your movements to pull the trigger. With your knife in one hand and his gun in the other, you kicked the man hopping in pain so that he was on his knees in front of you. His partner was just standing and watching the events taking place, it wasn’t until you rested the knife against his friend’s throat and trained the gun on him that he seemed to become animated again. With a completely straight face and a menacing look in your eyes to delivered your favourite line, “If either of you two ever try to hurt another person, I will find you, and I will personally see to it that no one in the history of torture has been tortured with the torture like the torture that you’ll be tortured with. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am” They both whimpered at the same time. For added effect you dug your knife in just enough to draw a trickle of blood then shoved your foot in between the shoulder blades of the guy on the flood, effectively pushing him to the ground where he immediately scampered up and ran, his partner hot on his heels. Until then Peter had been watching in awe of the events taking place before him. Only when you were alone did he dare to swing down onto the street next to you. “Miss are you okay, do you need some help?” Peter cringed at how he sounded, of course, you didn’t need help, you're a badass. “I think I have it handled, thanks though Spidey. But God imagine if you hadn’t been here, what would I have done without you?” Peter couldn’t do anything but sputter as you walked away. The girl he had met today was not at all who he thought she was, of course, he didn’t know that he was exactly who you thought he was. He made mental notes to get to know you even better than he was already planning to, and to somehow ask you if you had had any self-defence training, without sounding like a weirdo.

School had suddenly got a lot more interesting now he knew that you would be there.

A/N: Okay so I know that this ending sucked, but I really struggled with how to finish it off. I've had that encounter with the attackers and the prompts swimming around in my head for so long that I just had to put them on paper, well on a screen I guess. If anyone has a better way to finish this off I’d love to hear it and if this gets a good response I might carry it on as a series possibly? Maybe with Peter seeing Agent (L/N) getting up to stuff and trying to figure out how she does it until he finally sees her in the Tower joking around with the Black Widow one night, leading to months of questions being answered? I don’t know, I'm just playing around with ideas. Oh well, thanks for reading, I hope it wasn’t too crappy :)

A hint of what could come or just a well placed GIF?

#kuwtp4kwc #hattersficparty #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you

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kingofthewilderwest · 6 years ago

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Can you describe Cressida Cowell's writing style? (And try to convince me to start reading httyd books while you're at it)

Oh my goodness, I am *SO* excited to talk about Cowell’s writing style!

I realized my FAQ page was outdated with a broken link (whoops!), so I’ve fixed that! If you haven’t check that page out or my up-to-date #faq tag, I’ve written many responses on why I recommend the HTTYD books. Obviously those posts aren’t focused on Cowell’s writing style, as you’re curious about. Nevertheless, since you’re interested in recommendations and perspectives regarding those books, these prior responses could be worth checking out, and I’ll happily boop you a link to some of those! [1] [2] [3]

Cressida Cowell’s writing style, to me, is a fascinating combination of simple and eloquent. This goes for how she forms sentences, constructs plot, uses tropes, and more. She takes seemingly common elements that most of us wouldn’t consider “special” - and utilizes them to powerful effect.

Her narration style is charming. In the How to Train Your Dragon books, she uses two similar but distinct writing styles. The prologues and epilogues are given a finesse different than the material in the main chapters.

The majority of her text is written in an almost whimsical, childish way - especially at the start of the series. Sentences are simple; descriptions are amusing; humor is prevalent; and her presentation is straightforward. Unashamed use of italics, capslock, font changes, and font size changes - plus childish scribbles for illustration - contribute to the youthfulness of her narration.

How to Train Your Dragon Ch. 1: First Catch Your Dragon:

“ANYBODY would be better than Hiccup,” sneered Snotface Snotlout. “Even Fishlegs would be better than Hiccup.”

Fishlegs had a squint that made him blind as a jellyfish, and an allergy to reptiles.

“SILENCE!” roared Gobber the Belch. “The next boy to speak has limpets for lunch for the next THREE WEEKS!”

There was absolute silence immediately. Limpets are a bit like worms and a bit like snot and a lot less tasty than either.

As the series develops, the main prose develops slightly, too. Fans often discuss how Cowell’s illustrations markedly grow in complexity from start to end, even as they retain their childish personality. Cowell herself has confirmed that these artistic changes are representative of Hiccup aging. The writing doesn’t change as notably, but it’s arguably there. So, this benign, whimsical narration takes on intentional effect: she’s writing a story about a child with prose that matches the character’s age. It helps us readers enter the mind of a child as we go through Hiccup’s younger years. It’s not to say that it means we can’t think through complex topics in this framework, because we do address deep topics in the breadth of the narration... but the childish writing style provides a personality and character and framing device for how we readers “feel” the story.

The prologues and epilogues are different. In first instead of third person, they’re written as the reflections of old man Hiccup in his eighties. The writing style here maintains simple characteristics in, for instance, word choice... but it’s mature in tone and topic. These passages are often my favorites, as they delve into interesting moral reflections tied to the adventures young!Hiccup is having in the main story. This is where Cowell shines the most in her combination of simple and eloquent. There’s beauty in what she writes in the prologues and epilogues. Reading them aloud, words flow marvelously (that opening passage in the first book... mmm yum), and you can hear the reflection of the man behind them. It’s where you’ll get quotes like:

How to Ride a Dragon’s Storm: Epilogue

Maybe all Kings should bear the Slavemark, to remind them that they should be slaves to their people, rather than the other way around. And to help them never to forget what it feels like to be a child... to be small and weak and helpless.

How to Betray a Dragon’s Hero: Prologue

Great things are only made out of love and out of pain.

A great sword must be made out of the very best steel. But what truly makes the sword great is what happens to the sword after it is made.

We call this the “testing” of the sword.

The sword is bashed and hammered and hollered into shape by the bright hammer. It is thrust into the fierce heat of the fire, where it softens, and then it is quickly quenched in water, where it hardens again. The higher the temperature, the fiercer the fire, the tougher and greater the sword eventually becomes.

The whole testing process can make a sword, or break it.

The same could be said for the making of a Hero.

Cowell’s still not using complicated vocabulary. Occasionally she’ll insert something like “indelible” into the text, but generally, it’s (superficially) simple language. However. It’s also thoughtful, eloquent, and markedly more mature than something you’ll get in Chapter 3 of the first book. “Great things are only made out of love and out of pain” is something I could embroider and hang on my wall - it’s that sort of a reflective quote.

The contrast of the two styles - the more childish and the more eloquent-mature - help us understand Hiccup’s life from two perspectives: the viewpoint of a kid experiencing dangers around him idealistically hoping to change the world, and the viewpoint of an adult reflecting back with complex moral understandings. And as Hiccup’s adventures become increasingly darker and he grows in age, the main prose will match the mood.

The writing style works. She doesn’t need a large vocabulary or complex sentential forms to sound thoughtful and imbue great adventures or thematic points. Cowell knows how to impart heart-felt concepts and great reflections for readers of any age, child to adult... and have us impacted by them.

Cressida Cowell’s use of tropes is similarly deceiving. The best writing, I believe, combines refreshingly new material with storytelling elements we’re familiar with - our tropes. I believe Cowell strikes the balance marvelously.

She brings in wildly creative new concepts - like a quirky world where dragon species are everything down to big-mouthed bee catchers or insect-sized nanodragons. Characters are equally as ridiculous and special; I’d be hard-pressed to find a personality similar to Camicazi anywhere in literature or media.

Cowell also knows how to use tropes. We so often see the feckless, unwanted, socially outcast wimpy protagonist turn into a Hero. We’ve seen a character with a special sword and a noteworthy family history. We’ve seen a character called by fate and prophecy to revolutionize the land before apocalypse. But that doesn’t make Hiccup a generic character handled blandly. Cowell balances fate with agency and with the challenges of reality. Hiccup has to make choices to save what he loves. And Hiccup is limited in what he can do. After all, “History is a set of repeating circles, like the tide. The wind does blow through the ruins of tomorrow. But it is more a question of two steps forward, one step back.” What we get is a Hero’s journey, but one where our Hero is truly spectacular, diligent, unyielding, pushed to the brink, and endlessly inspirational.

I think the thing that impresses me the most in how Cowell handles tropes is the “it can’t get any worse and then it does” concept. We’ve seen it before. Stories make protagonists go through a dark low. And when the character doesn’t think situations can worsen, they do. What makes the HTTYD series so spectacular and unique in how it’s handled... is the sheer repeated beating Cowell does. It’s overwhelming. She keeps going, and going, and going, and going, and doesn’t stop. Other authors would have stopped five bad events ago! It’s to the point that, in book ten, after so many bad things repeatedly occurred, I cried when Hiccup reached one small positive in his efforts. The author isn’t afraid to put our protagonist through the ringer, thereby making every bad experience, and good experience, impacting, memorable, and sometimes shocking to us as readers.

Cowell definitely uses plot devices we’ve seen before. But she weaves them together impactingly, making an emotional ride through high highs and low lows. We’re left with an inspirational takeaway and a Hero’s development we won’t forget.

Cowell’s long-term plot structure is brilliant, too. She divides the series into three equal parts, more or less. The first part is the “isolated” series of whimsical, innocent, childish adventures. The second part makes you squint suspiciously, realizing you’re getting into more complex and dangerous incidences than you expected. The third part is what I lovingly call “the Ragnarok of pain and despair.”

The starting books, deceivingly, seem like isolated, simple adventures. Cowell’s actually setting ALL the stages for the series’ later turmoil. She’s inserting characters, items, prophecies, themes, conflicts, and plot points that will become extraordinarily impacting as the series continues. But readers don’t notice Cowell’s clever, thorough foundation. They just see cutesie, simple, isolated incidences first read through.

The middling section is where Cowell starts to utilize what she set up. She begins implementing chaos and intertwining strings, pulling Hiccup’s life from random childhood incidences with Alvin and dragons... into something centrally important. She brings together the history of the Barbaric Archipelago with the current events Hiccup’s experiencing around him. All Hiccup’s starting point experiences from the first books become formulative to the choices he has to make now. And all the while, there’s the stewing build-up of a central conflict... which explodes at the end of the second part.

The third part is all-out war. All-out drama. All-out danger. All-out stakes. We see how everything Cowell wrote is interconnected, from the start of the series to whatever conclusion Hiccup’s journey will bring. Moral themes and questions are central; characters are pushed into growth; what we thought was some random thing at the start turns out to be a cleverly-inserted Chekhov’s gun. It’s the payoff to all the set-up and build-up... brilliantly, effectively executed.

Obviously I can’t give examples to you. That would be spoilers. XD To people who’ve read the series, I’ll just say, for one example: all the King’s Things. That’s one example of Cowell’s build-up. But the build-up is everything from moral themes, to character dynamics, to foreshadowed historical revelations. It’s well-paced, well-thought through, well-executed.

The How to Train Your Dragon books are thus both simple and eloquent. And that which is simple isn’t “watered down” - it’s “simple” with purpose, “simple” with complexity, “simple” with personality, “simple” with power.

This is why I always encourage people to keep reading after the first few books. Some people find the starting adventures adorable, loving the charm and humor. I adore that all myself! They’re legitimately treasurable books in and of their own. Other readers aren’t as interested in the cutesie stuff, approaching the first HTTYD books with skepticism; they don’t think that these benign stories are “their thing.” However, every time I’ve encouraged skeptics to read after the first few books, they get sucked in, and find themselves screaming and crying and laughing and celebrating with Hiccup’s dynamic adventures. It’s all because Cowell’s simplicity is deceptive: there’s so much more going on, and there’s always more going on the deeper in you look.

#long post #httyd books #faq #httyd #How to Train Your Dragon #How to Ride a Dragon's Storm #analysis #my analysis #Cressida Cowell #ask #ask me #loveallcute

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anoceaninthesun · 5 years ago

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What do you think of reviewers who post at the last chapter and say, "I usually review only on the last chapter. I like your story blah blah blah" Doesn't this common habit among the fandom readers take away any motivation for writers to update frequently? I feel there are more reviews for people who update once a month, than people who update once in three days.

This is interesting because despite the main way I interact with fandom spaces being from writing fanfics, I generally don’t get asked much about my opinions on reviews, despite having loads of them. Caveat to my response is I speak mainly from my own experience with maybe brief generalizations I feel fanfic writers would more or less agree on.

To the first part of the question, um, well honestly even if infrequent I guess I’d prefer to see people review throughout. This is because my fics tend to be longer. I do often get reviews from people along the lines of “I would’ve stopped to review sooner but I just got so caught up in binging I waited until there was nothing left to read, whoops” I get that sometimes that’s true. If it’s a really thoughtfully constructed longer review than I guess I’m good with that. If it’s 36 chapters published in the span of two years with over 200,000+ words (which is where ASiT currently sits) and you give me maybe two lines....yeah, I can say you likely aren’t exactly my favorite person when I open your review. 🤣

But this is because I spent two years cranking this out piece by piece and the returned investment is already so little I feel two sentences to sum up all that’s been read and processed and hopefully enjoyed, is less than the bare minimum. So in summary on that less is never more for longer works in my opinion. If you’d like to leave shorter comments here and there that are chapter specific as you read it makes a lot more sense for me.

Yes, lazy reviews in short absolutely do drain away motivation. I’ll just bluntly come out and say that. By lazy I mean the specific kind of reviewer often admits they thought it was okay to keep reading and not review, not even at the end, and they tend to pop up only when there hasn’t been an update in a while. That’s....yeah.

Personally I hardly ever do every three day updates. When a story is in its infancy and I’m trying to get a feel for how it’ll take off so I’m cranking out these short chapters consecutively you may see me do that with little regard to how many reviews the chapters are getting as long as it ups the word count, which in turn often makes the story easier to find and generates attention....but on longer works I strongly advise against trying to do updates weekly. Why? Well on systems like FFN (Fanfiction dot net), this will actually not move your work to the top of the system when the page refreshes.

Due to an outdated algorithm they have, one of many, it has to be like 8+ days between chapters before updating will cause your story to float to the top of the fandom’s page of recently updated fics. So for example if you update every three days, people already following and favoriting may be alerted but new readers just scrolling through not using tags won’t see it because it’ll have been buried. So yes people who update monthly absolutely do usually (notice italics) get more traffic than people updating much, much more frequently. Updating that frequently can also give readers a sense of entitlement in my experience and the experiences of other writers I’ve heard from.

Chapters get cranked out soooo steadily and quickly that many people won’t feel it necessary to post feedback. They’re not being made to wait and for some (for sure not all but many!!) readers the wait is all they care about. If they’re not waiting/ “being inconvenienced” then they’re not going to comment. That is their sole reason to want to reach out to you to remind you in some way, sometimes politely and sometimes rudely, that they’re still waiting.

That being said, we are most definitely not machines. I know when I discovered fanfic I was barely in double digits and when I clumsily posted my now long-ago-deleted first work, I could hardly be considered a teenager. Now I am an adult, albeit not a very old one, and my priorities have for sure shifted and the free time I found in abundance even in high school, is a lot more limited. I’ve got a lot going on at any given time. A lot of things require me to devote myself to them pretty thoroughly.

Social lives don’t make themselves; you have to work to keep cultivating those no matter if the relationship is platonic, familial, romantic or otherwise. Animals tend to be less likely to bite the hand that feeds them (not that they have in my case) when you spend time raising and training them and then keeping up that bond—not that anyone asked but right now my whole thing is experimenting with fruit salad combos I made myself to see what my new baby bird likes, and renovating his cage so he’s constantly stimulated enough not to try to figure out the locks😂😂.

I’m gearing up to try to kill myself with school again by going for a D.PH next fall (which means I need to apply now and that in itself is a long and expensive process) because living even remotely close to three decades (which is what I would be when I finally finished it) is overrated anyway. If that doesn’t work I can always shave about the same amount of time off my life with emergency disaster management work. So what I’m saying is, all the stuff that young adult me has been juggling for the last three years or so, ten or fifteen year old me would have no clue about in terms of priorities. She could read fics and write fics, read fics and write fics in a cycle.

People want me and writers who are just as busy as me to update frequently, so make it worth our while. Show us why you, the readers, are worth devoting a probably limited chunk of our free time to keep happy with a craft we’ve honed (in my case professionally with the help of degrees), when we could be doing literally anything else. I don’t advise people slaving away at a keyboard to put free fics out there every three days and then getting discouraged when it’s not received as well as they’d like, when nothing is wrong with updating monthly, or hell, even every six months if that’s all your personal schedule allows for.

Sometimes I do surprise updates sooner than expected when a reader has really made my day with a solid review that encouraged me to jump start my writing process or when something has gone well in life and I turn to my writing or when I myself am sick of not finding what I wanna read and want to see more of what I’ve written admittedly partially from wish fulfillment put down to page. But never count on that a writer will feel generous for nothing, is my advise to readers. And if you, anon, are a writer, or some of my aspiring fellow fanfic writers see this, again, go at your own pace to avoid burnout. It’s a really fun hobby that has undoubtedly brought me endless joy but existential rewards aside it can be thankless. You will feel unmotivated and unappreciated at times.

Especially when reviewers roll in after long absences on their parts to feed you a line about why they hadn’t reviewed for a while until you chased them out of your inbox with a broom for badgering you between updates. Hopefully this wasn’t too rambling to get something from. Thank you for the ask.

#long post #writing #fanfic writing #woes of a fic writer #anon ask

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imagine-wannaone · 7 years ago

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Park Jihoon Vampire Au

Word count: 3.3k

This was a request for a Jihoon Vampire au and rlly loved writing this so yanno, I’d love to write a vamp au for another member as well ;) Also I had no idea how to make a lil header for this one so I didn’t?? Sorry about that, I’d ask Otter admin but like she seems busy lately so whoops

Things crossed out - Commentary from me

Things in bold - Commentary from Editor Katie

Things in italic - Commentary from Otter Admin because she’s special

OG Admin

• Your school wasn't exactly known for being an accepting place for vamps, (no shit sherlock) • I mean they survived there, sure, but you couldn't say they were widely accepted, so they tried to stay within their own groups and the majority of them caused no trouble, • You didn't quite understand the prejudice towards them, like yeah they could be very dangerous, but all of the ones that attended school showed no signs of being the corrupt, evil type, • But there was one vampire in particular, whenever anyone said anything it really made you angry, • He looked soft and kind, he never did anything that could cause any conflict, he was clever and gentle, and definitely very pretty, • And shy, • You'd smiled at him in the corridors before, to which he'd avoided eye contact, • Or you'd say hi if waiting nearby, or try to chat if you sat near each other in class, to which he'd turn away with a light blush on his ghostly pale skin, • (Legit Editor Katie tho she pale af) • You just wanted to be nice, but it upset you - the thought you made him uncomfortable, • Or maybe he wasn't shy, as most of the vamps at school acted this way towards you, and you were pretty sure it was because they were afraid you'd bring trouble, like most other humans, • You understood of course, but it didn't stop your simple smiles in the corridors, • But you're walking down the halls with some friends towards a geography class, • Gotta learn about some rivers amiright, (Moana is quaking) • But you hear shouting from down the corridor which makes your blood change to cold, • "-You dirty bloodsucking parasites need to stay in the night where God doesn't have to look at you," • Wow you're off to start a fight (งツ)ว • lmao a verbal one, physical fights are stupid, • You approach from behind, spotting the guy that has Jihoon himself in a corner, looking down nervously, like he wanted to be anywhere but there, • "You're such a weak, bigoted blood bag," • You march right in there, shoving the guys shoulder back to stand next to Jihoon, the blood gushing through your ears, threatening to deafen you, • The boy has too much silver jewellery and a cross around his neck and you want to scoff, • Why make so much effort just to make someone uncomfortable? What's the point? • "You're always picking on vamps when, what? What did Jihoon do to trigger you? Simply walked past? Is your self control honestly so nonexistent you can't even keep your disgusting thoughts to yourself? You should work on that," • Wow the words just tumbling out what to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (-me to them peeps calling daehwi gay/greedy) • You didn’t think them through, and they're not what you'd imagined saying in the scenario you ran through your head every single time this happened, • But they're enough to make the brute stare at you in disbelief as you grab Jihoon's hand, still in a rage, and march him the hell outta there • Your adrenaline is running because you've finally done it, done what you'd always wanted to do • What someone (or everyone, really) should have done a long time ago, • You go to lead Jihoon outside but then realize there's only so much sun cream can do, so change direction to the school’s theater, where you know there's no lessons so it'll be dark • "Hey are you okay?" • You spin around to face him once you've arrived alone in the theater lobby, but you can't see him well in the gloom • You wonder how bad a vamp’s eyesight is in the day, if it's this bad and they just rely on their other senses • "You shouldn't have done that, they're going to pick on you as well now," • His quite voice is concerned and wary, it makes your heart ache • You head over to where the seats are probably are and successfully sit on one, not falling over in the dark • "Let them try," • You believe it • You may be known for being nice, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a sharp tongue and a strong passion • If people started to distance themselves from you now, you'd know who your true friends were • And you were definitely prepared to use your language, maybe even a few other ones as well, to make sure people knew you didn't give a shit about their prejudice opinions • And you definitely weren't going to let it stand anymore • Jihoon's quiet as he thinks over what you say, within the blink of an eye you can feel his cold presence sat near you • He doesn't quite understand you • Not at all • He doesn't understand why you stood up for him, what you have to gain, why you'd make yourself a target • Why someone he'd always viewed as so soft and kind, someone he tried to stay away from as to no be misfortune to, would voluntarily come to save him from an idiot in the hallway • He'd bite back, but he doesn't want the reputation of vampires to decrease even more, and he doesn't exactly see how it'd help, so he stays silent and resolute • But that confrontation is the beginning of a whole new life for you • A lot of your 'friends' started to distance themselves from you, or straight up told you they thought you were an idiot • Like it hurt, sure, but you stood by the fact that you were sick of the inequality, • You started to walk to classes more with Jihoon, your timetables startlingly similar • Not only because you could defend him easily when you're with him, but with your dwindling number of friends, you didn't have many other people to walk with • Not that you minded as much, you were glad you'd gotten rid of toxic people and were left with true friends

• Y'all 2k18 the year to get rid of toxic friendships (I should know rip) (-mood) • But one night it's like 2am and you're like???? I want to be free, go for a walk and buy some chocolate raisins because living on edge is fun • So that's exactly what you go to do • And you're walking back to your house in pitch black, feeling spooky™ and actually regretting your independence because something feels really off • Yeah I think we all know where this is going • You spot a pale, tall figure (everyone’s tall to u bro) behind you through a closed shop window, you instantly know it's a vamp (I’m 5′0″ legit I’m dying down here) • And you can hear them walking behind you, which means they're close because vampires are known for sneaking • And you will your heart beat to come down because you're 100% sure he can hear it and probably smell it • And you're just figuring out what to do as you speed walk down the street, • You can't run, vampires are speedy and they have better vision, you can't fight; they're stronger than humans • You're just about to start screaming when an icy hand wraps around your wrist, and you start to turn around to fight back, because what more can ya do, when you recognise the cologne, the height, the hair (I remember everyone’s height because they’re aLL TALLER THAN ME) • Wow Jihoon knows when to drop in, • He's gripped your wrist to make sure you stay behind him as he growls (exo is quakin), a terrifying hiss you'd never associate with someone as soft as Jihoon, at the dangerous stalker you had acquired • Despite this, the feral vamp still lunges, dark sunken eyes focused onto you, almost oblivious of Jihoon • You guess he's hungry, and would feel bad if he wasn't making an attempt on your life • But I guess your own will to live outweighs your ability for sympathy, • (Can't relate) • But Jihoon skilfully spins you away before catching the attacker and basically throwing that bitch into a wall like shit man he got that pOwER • (By EXO is a bop), • You're shook because Jihoon, don't kill the already undead lil shit pls have some manners • But then he grabs your hand and quickly leads you away like bruh slow down I'm only human, • "I'm so so sorry y/n, are you okay? Why are you out so late?" • You laugh at him as he stops you in a shadow of the already dark night, and wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, • He's tense at first because human contact?? Why aren't u afraid imma drink your blood god dammit??? •And Jihoon can hear your blood and he's trying so hard not to smell it because you're in his arms and it'd be too easy, too evil (oh nonononono jeojang you ain’t gettin none of my blood) • But he wraps his arms loosely around you and sighs, calming himself down from the rage he felt when he'd seen you in imminent danger • Because this person protects him with everything they have in the day and damn if he wasn't going to finally return the favor • "Why sorry, Jihoon, you just saved my life, god, thank you so much," • You jump back and beam at him because nothing in your whole language can tell him how much you love him in that moment • "It's a vampire, he shouldn't have done that, I'm just sorry," • You can't stand the way Jihoon looks, ashamed and disappointed, • "Don't be stupid, it's not your fault, there are feral people in every race," (-me to haters) • Jihoon's dark eyes stare into yours for a second; you feel as if you're being weighed up, but you stare back, letting him run through whatever thought process he's going through • "You should be careful when you’re out so late, there's too many people like that," • He softens instantly, running his eyes across you, checking to see if you're still in one piece, a hand subconsciously running through your hair, and tilting your head side to side to check the veins in your neck were untouched • The cold of his hands tickle, and the sensation sends tingles down your spine but you don't say anything, just wait till he's done and hold up your bag from the shop • He sighs with a smile, he gently places his hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing forward carefully as the two of you begin walking • "Let's get you home," • Honestly after that night you're shook at how different Jihoon was • In school he's quiet and polite, keeping to himself • But damn this Jihoon almost body slammed someone and talked with utter confidence in his element (i mean have you seen his bice-nope not getting wrekt today bitches) • You loved it tbh the real boy was showing and you were his no.1 fan • You find yourself walking home together the next day, you don't live that close but his house is sort of on the way to yours so it works • And you don't want anyone to pick on him in the daylight when he's alone because some people are absolute jerks • You hold your umbrella high to cover mainly Jihoon as the sun lies in the sky; again, there's only so much incredibly strong sun cream made for vampires can do, and you know the sun still stung, so you bought along your very handy, black umbrella for protection • Jihoon smiled at you when you first brought it out, and you let it make your stomach flip • "You know, I was thinking," • His voice is quiet, soft, weaker, as it always is in the day, and you raise your eyebrows questioningly, to which he huffed at you • "I think you should give me your phone number," • Wow you legit choke • Jihoon takes the umbrella carefully from your arm so you don't have to hold it so high for him, smiling softly at you • "You're a very straightforward guy, let me tell you that," • He laughs at that as you pass him your phone • "You like to go out at night right? Like some freedom? Since you stick up for me at school, I think whenever you want to go out, call me. I'll accompany you and fight off any bad guys," • "Maybe I'll take you up on that," • You swipe your phone back after he’s texted you and pinch his cool cheek making a light blush appear • "Honestly though, please call whenever you want, I'm always awake at night because of the whole, yanno, vamp thing, and I'd like to-" • " Y/n, Jihoon!" • One of your close friends call, running across the road towards the two of you, cutting him off • You're on edge because like??? What would he like to do???? But your friend has good intentions as they join the two of you and happily chat, and you decide you'll just have to leave it a mystery • But from then on you two are honestly your own tiny squad • Jihoon becomes more open with you, more talkative at school and happier whenever you're near, sitting with his vampire friends but sometimes joining you as well • Because he's now more confident that this isn't just a one sided friendship, that he takes and you give, but he now knows he can help you as well and it lifts his non beating heart • And you're not, by nature, supposed to be a nocturnal animal but you swear you're turning into one • You always sleep as soon as you get home from school and spend your nights walking around at night with Jihoon, chatting and relishing in the silence of the darkness and the secrets the stars hold • Your secrets; you've told them how he makes your arms tingle and heart race and how you'd protect him with not only your voice, even though you know he probably doesn't need to be protected • (Ofc he does, even strong ass people need to be protected sometimes, y'all let yourself be soft) • But honestly you're so glad you snapped that day in the corridor • "Okay but what if you're totally evil after all and you're just lulling me into your lair?” • You question isn't invalid, Jihoon has your hand in his chilly one, but it's nice in the summer air, • It's pitch black, possibly 12 or 1 A.M, and Jihoon is leading you through a nearby park, you can feel shrubbery around you but you have no idea what's happening • "Do you honestly trust me so little?" • Jihoon's super speed surprises you all of the time, so when he suddenly wraps his arms around your shoulder and whispers to your ear when he was leading in front 0.28472 seconds ago you're definitely shook • He lowers his voice in an imitation to scare you but it only makes you crack up • You laugh and push forward, spinning around so he can see your face, even though you can't see him properly, only a faint white glow • You sense him sitting down, and he tugs your hand so you can join him, knees bumping together • "What can I say, I bet my blood taste great," • He chokes a laugh at that, which makes your head snap to where you know he is • "What are you laughing at? You think my blood taste bad? Are you insulting me Park Jihoon?" • Your mock offence makes him laugh again, and that sound is the only fuel you'll ever need again, you feel like you could live off it, the ring of this vampires laugh • "Quite the opposite, you don't know how tempting it is," • I mean this could make things awkward, but it's you and Jihoon, so you giggle and take it as a compliment, you know he'd never do something like that without permission • "Well maybe one day, Mr. Park, when you've fought off a gang of evil vampires and forgotten to drink your bag of animal blood for breakfast, I'll let you," • He hums at that and looks to the stars, and you take up tracing the dark veins that weave across his bare arms, wondering how it all works, how vampires work, how they live, how people live with such hate built in their hearts towards those who are different • "Why did you do it, that day? Why did you shout for me?" • You, in turn, hum at this, and send him a smile • "You obviously weren't going to, and I was sick of the meaningless hate you got," • You state your thoughts as they are, not altering them, you'd never had to alter them for your vampire friend, so why now • "You have no idea how hot that makes you," (smooth, fam) • Wow Jihoon has a talent for making you choke on your breath, because once again his straight forward words make you blush a deep ruby • It seems Jihoon wasn't going to change his thoughts for you either • "Pardon me?" • You raise your eyebrows at him with a smile, playing laid back even though you know he can hear your heartbeat speeding up • Like jeez wow you can't hide anything • "The way you didn't care; you didn't care and you still don’t. You don't care that people call you a rat, carrying a parasite, or whatever. You were brave, because you didn't like the inequality and the fact you think outside of the box and do whatever you can just to make me feel more...more included. Just how you stand for what you believe, that's pretty beautiful" • It isn't exactly poetry, and it doesn't get across how Jihoon feels to the extent he wants it to, but you understand the message, and that's all that matters honestly • "It's what you deserve, Jihoon," • His dark eyes stare at you then, closer than you remember • "You think? You think I deserve something so wonderful?" • "I know, silly, I don't only think," • He goes silent again at that, tracing patterns with his cold hands onto your palm • You can guess what he's thinking • All through his school life he's been told he was dirt and an inconvenience, an insect, (a stuck-up half witter scruffy-looking nerf-herder,) • So when someone finally tells him he's worth something? He deserves something good? • He's stumped, and you know he's trying to get his head around it • "Y/n, I'm trying not to kiss you right now," • Bitch okay he may be thinking that as well • "As long as you promise not to lose your head and try to drain me of my blood, then I think there's no reason in trying not to, if I'm being honest," • His eyes b u r n like shit that's intense okay • His spare hand, the one not constantly drawing patterns onto your arm, the same steady cold as they always had been, moves to rest on the back of your neck • It makes your hair stand up and goose-bumps to jump and run along your neck • "I can't say I can promise anything," • His voice is soft again before he presses his lips to yours, gentle as he always had been with you, and it makes your head spin wildly • Your hands jump up his spine in a dance of emotion and tangle into his dark hair • Jihoon is just lost in your warmth, the warmth of your heart and the warmth of your hands and lips • The two of you gaze at the sky later, making promises and telling truths you thought only the sky would ever know • You've never felt as if someone else could make you feel like one, whole, but with a cold hand encircling yours, your head resting on his soft stomach, no words have ever made more sense to you

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neo-ally-spl · 3 years ago

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One-Punch Man

I read this pretty early on (when it was being translated + the webcomic) and I've talked about his elsewhere but now I want to put my theories here too!

I'm just going to list every one of my speculations first and then explain my thoughts. Also the sentences in italics was my original opinions, just in case that's not clear. Or usually I will say, "I wonder", "here I wrote down", "I had said", etc.

Mar. 2018:

"Scary thought but the manga might not be very long?.". So I don't exactly remember why I thought this but there is a substantial amount of webtoon contnet to cover so I don't think it will end before say 250 chapters. Interesting that I thought this.

"Monster king Orochi is just like Saitama and he could be the most formidable opponent. Or he's just another one hit kill and there's a better opponent in the future." - so he literally was just the latter. I had thought three years ago that maybe he was actually Blast and that's why he couldn't be contacted. But the outcome is so much better. Honestly for a villain he was pretty cool, the only thing about this manga that is sometimes boring is that you know that none of the characters will die. Nobody loses powers either. EDIT: haha I had to make an amendment here. In chapter 143 a hero loses an arm and it seems as if Tanktop Master was crushed. Like- I was wrong lol. Also Darkshine loses his hands not too long after..soo whoops.

The next thing that I posted on twitter said, "what if Blast was manipulated and made into Lord Orochi". And then I had an accompanying image where Psykos confirms that Orochi was once a human being and was "gruesomely perfected". - he is definitely not Blast that's for sure. Blast's introduction was pretty cool. I was shocked for a few hours, it was good. But yeah I don't know who Orochi once was, but that's not true lol.

Oh about my first bullet point, I found another tweet while looking through my twitter and I had said that I thought this was the last arc because it seemed to be the major conflict, but ever since my re-read of the webcomic I think that's no longer true. Not 100% sure though.

The last thing that I said in March, was "what if the final boss is God himself"? This manga is a satire on heroes as it is, but that would be wild and funny as hell. I don't feel like it will happen but idk. Would be cool and totally on par with the insanity of the series lol

April 2018: I guess around this time was when I was able to read the Elder Centipede chapter. Because I mentioned that Blast "fought with it two years ago." At this point I was still running with the idea that Blast died or something else happened. Maybe he was frustrated with the fact that no one else could match up to him. Which now since his reveal in the manga is just not true, he's fighting somthing that's messing space, time and gravity itself.

I think I was just really excited imagining that Blast was greedy or something lol

I also wondered if his "disappearance" was just a big plot hole. Because how was the Hero Association able to know that Blast doesn't want to come into work? Like who was he talking too???

Also the fact that Child Emporer and Metal Knight have outside communications. (Which now we learned was because C.E was his assistant). Made me wonder who was speical enough to get into contact with Blast, it wasn't Tatsumaki because she would have been all haughty about it. lol

June 2018:

Psykos kidnapped a child or maybe a human. I still really wanted to know who Orochi was 😂

I also wondered if someone was looking for him, like they were close friends or if he had a wife and she'll never be able to know what happened. 😟 I don't know what chapter it was but there was a scene where there was a shadow talking to another human. Idk I would've liked that information. :/

March 2021:

This is where I did a big re-read of the series (webcomic and manga). At this point I had been waiting a long time for updates so I forgot a lot of important key details. Like Tatsumaki and Gyoro both say "bald guy" meaning that she heard about this mysterious person (Saitama) and kept that to herself.

Around this time is when I stopped having big speculations and it was more questioning about future chapter events. And then I was just very excited about each new chapter and it mostly turns into reactions.

Before chapter 135 I wondered just how important Fubuki was going to be. I thought it was really interesting that she can sense other life forms, and maybe that her powers were evolving. I still don't know how important she is.

I literally lost my shit at chapter 135 LOL. Like in my notes all I put down was, blast face, BLAST FAEC!!1! And then I also really enjoyed the development between Sweet Mask and Zombieman in this chapter.

Ch. 138 notes: What the- I've got no words. Ya'll need to experience reading this chapter. It has the coolest lore I've seen from this manga yet. Like they connected to another dimension. Can you tell that I was really excited at this point? lol

Ch. 139: *screaming* and that's it, that's the notes lol jk. Here I wrote down about the group worshipping something far underground, like if that is the next enemy? Or is it the dissolution of the H.A from the webcomic?

Ch. 142: Tatsumaki caring about information about Blast was really sweet to see. But if I didn't read the webcomic I wouldn't understand why he means so much to her. I hope ONE and Murata have her backstory in the manga as well. I literally spoke too soon about this because two chapters later we get that information. :O || Sweet Mask got such a bad injury that it makes me believe that he died. Not sure tbh. Something that happens differently in the webcomic is that it's revealed that he was a mysterious being. Like he has the ability to alter himself. He gets harassed by everyone (mostly the public) because they didn't expect him to be an ugly monster. And this kickstarts the public not rlly trusting heroes. And a lot of other shit happens.

Also about Ch. 142 I wondered why Watchdog man wasn't there. Was his city safe? Also I liked the fact that we actually get dialogue from Pig God.

Ch. 143: I don't like Drive Knight anymore lol. It seems like Genos could've actually died for real this time. And lastly Fubuki is a queen. She's turning out to be a really good character.

Ch. 144: It seems like a death flag sprung up for Tatsumaki. Also I kind of understand her thinking because to tatsumaki, blast was the only one that could/would save her. It's not a curse but more like a deep scar on her heart. ;-;!! I wouldn't trust others if that happened to me either. || When I seen the council of swordmasters I thought that they would betray the heroes, lol. || And finally in my notes, I said that it seems like TTM is down for the count too.

Ch. 145: I went back to re-read it and I just noticed in one panel, Pig God says that in the prophecy he needs to save up is power? Is he OP too?! I guess he'll be the savior maybe, that is if Saitama doesn't show up anytime soon. I'm starting to really like Pig God's character a lot too now.

Ch. 146: Ooh! Looks like the spotlight is on Darkshine now. I hope he continues to be a hero because in the webcomic he completely loses his confidence. It's really nice to see. I had some really bad foreshadowing, all I'm going to say is rip darkshine. He didn't die but oof. I also said that it was nice to see that the S-Class could actually hold their own. It wasn't looking promising there for a while.

Ch. 147: oh saitama is on the cover will he finally show up? He in fact didn't. 😔 also I liked the interaction between Atomic Samurai and Bang, he said that it was his job as the master to right his wrongs. I like that he's no longer looking down on him because of Garou. Like how could you expect someone to just be able to make a decision right away and deal with their own student? Like he obviously was important to Bang. That's such a hard thing to do. || Also about Garou he gets a new form 👀

Ch. 148: before I read the chapter, I wrote down that I had different expectations. Because in the webcomic Saitama comes out and supports Garou, he isn't okay with him being killed. Also around this fight is when Sweet Mask gets "revived" and is in monster form. Saitama is the only one that doesn't have a major issue with him. In the webcomic Saitama wasn't missing from the fight but he also wasn't playing a major part yet. || Anyways so the chapter ends with bang appearing to start the fight.

Ch. 149: I felt really bittersweet reading this chapter because the council was wiped out. It would've been cool to understand why there were so few of them left. The lore about the two swords was really cool though. So many events within the last ten chapters veered off from the original plot in the webcomic. I have no way to know what to expect, but I'm not complaining, I like going into these chapters newly experiencing them.

From here on out this is all new observations. Like today i just re-read 150. I would've had a reaction to 151 but it's not out, in fact I feel like I've been waiting a long time for that to release, the last time I checked was early july...

Ch. 150: Poor Darkshine. Also Metal Bat comes back!! I missed his character :o || Haha King is still being caught up in misunderstandings, i can't wait to laugh my ass off in the next chapter. because I know it'll be funny between sprm and king.

#one-punch man spoilers #text #spoilers

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roxy-davenport · 8 years ago

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A Darker Shade Of Love

Pairing: MOC!Dean/Demon!Dean x Reader (they’re both here)

Word Count: 6,203 (Whoops)

Beta: @raspberrymama

A/N: This was written for a ton of challenges. It’s a tad angsty at least at the beginning. SMUT towards the end, hella feisty evil reader. This is a very creepy love story. A fluffy ode to serial killers if you will. :D @manawhaat I’m looking at you kid, my serial killer peep. ;) If you’re not a horror fan then angsty love between two damaged characters. Look at the prompts below to get an idea of what you’re in for. :) I made the lyrics myself for the song, “Whiskey and My Gun.” There might be some mistakes here and there but I went off what it sounded like to me. This is a bit of a rewrite of the end of Season 9 and how Dean became Demon!Dean. Artistic liberties taken in how the Mark works. Lyrics are bolded; flashbacks and thoughts are in italics. Death of an insignificant character.

@plaidstiel-wormstache 500 follower challenge with the prompt, Whiskey and My Gun- King Social

@frickfracklesackles 1,000 followers with the prompts, feisty strangers to lovers, “I don’t make love. I fuck hard.”

@beckawinchester Becka’s Birthday Challenge- 14. “Hi, I’m (insert name) and I’m addicted to killing!” and dark alley

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s Challenge Tina Dico Nobody’s Man

@d-s-winchester 4k Celebration Bon Jovi Celebration Born to Be My Baby

@one-shots-supernatural Kayla’s Birthday Challenge with the prompts, “ A well-read woman is a dangerous creature” and an old fashioned arcade.

Also on A03

I’ve been riding for a week now

And I’ve been riding with you long.

I’m riding southbound on the boulevard

I trust my Whiskey and my gun

“Give up? You want to give up?” Sam yelled.

Dean sighed heavily before speaking. “Cain and Abaddon are dead and Metatron is locked up. The big baddies are taken off the board. I’m tired Sam.” He pleaded with his little brother. Why couldn’t Sam just understand?

“What are you saying Dean?” Sam asked angrily. Of course behind the anger was fear that he understood all too well what Dean meant to do.

“Why am I still fighting this?” Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders and holding his arms out. The Mark of Cain surging on his left arm.

“Why are you still fighting the Mark? Jesus, Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Sam bellowed.

Dean’s voice broke when he spoke, quite evident that he was crying before this argument. “You want me to keep fighting for you? Sam, come on. You should get out and have a family. Leave me and get the life you were meant to live.”

“Quit saying that Dean. I’m not leaving without you.”

“You can’t ask me to do this. I can’t hold this off any longer. Every day the pull gets stronger. I killed the Stein kid and others, Sam. There’s no saving me. I’ve woken up too many nights in a pool of blood not knowing where I am or who I just killed. I can’t survive this fight any longer Sam. I just want to give into whatever it is that the Mark wants to make me into. Dean stated matter-of-factly hoping that his brother would just let him go.

“Dean, come on, you don’t really -.” Sam pleaded.

“I mean it, Sam. I can’t hold this off anymore. It’s whispering things in my ear, it’s infecting me everyday and I can’t get away from it.”

“We can get Cas or we can trap Crowley; we can get help.”

“No Sam. You’re not risking your life for me again. I’m already lost. Let me go.”

Sam looked broken while Dean looked emotional, tears brimming in his eyes.

“The more I fight, the louder the whispers are. I’m tired Sam. I’m choosing to submit now, rather than have it choose for me.”

“Dean come on -,” Sam pleaded again.

Dean shook his head. His mind was made up. “No Sam, not this time. You can’t save me. Bye Sam.”

He gonna kill it cause he hurt me

He gonna kill it cause I can

I’m gonna kill it for no reason

No reason you will understand

Dean knocked out his brother, leaving him on the dirty kitchen floor unconscious. He closed his eyes as he felt the Mark surge. He was lost now and he knew it. He had to leave before the Mark made him do something to Sam. On the way out, Dean smashed his phone so that Sam couldn’t track him.

Dean got on the road and drove in silence, needing the silence to just be in the moment; not thinking about anything just trying desperately to clear his head but his mind kept going to Sam. To be specific, Sam’s lost face haunted him. His pleading eyes full of pain that his love for his brother wasn’t enough to stop him. That his big brother was giving up after all the battles they’ve been through.

But this wasn’t about Sam. Dean wasn’t here to live for his baby brother. He’d taken Sam into account all his life; done what was good for him at every turn, every sacrifice was all for Sam but now Dean just couldn’t do it. He wasn’t completely giving up; he was driving to a place that may be able to help him, his last resort. He didn’t tell Sam about it because he didn’t want to get his hopes up and this struggle was Dean’s, after all. Sam couldn’t help him; he would just add pressure on Dean to get better. If this worked, he could go home to Sam and apologize and they’d be a family again and if not, well then Dean would stay away.

I’ve been riding by the daylight

I don’t need to know which way

And the devil has a secret

I will never hear him say

Dean knew it was likely going to fail and he would prefer that Sam remember him as he was and not as the monster he could feel himself becoming. Sam could never understand how it felt to carry the mark and the kind of impulses and thoughts it brought.

Halfway into the drive, his brain flooding him with memories of his baby brother. He could see all the fun times they had in Baby; the memories they shared here in crystal clarity, almost like he was reliving them. The devil was locked in a cage in hell from a toy solider hidden in the cigarette tray. That kind of love and devotion was what he was running from. Dean smiled a sad smile as he went through songs on Sam’s iPod until he found an angsty song that he felt fit the mood. He closed his eyes and listened to the words.

I’m riding high, I’m riding harder

And I polished every shelf

I’m riding southbound on the boulevard

I’m riding right on into Hell

He gonna kill it cause he hurt me

He gonna kill it cause I can

I’m gonna kill it for no reason

No reason you would understand

I shot and killed him in a riff now

I’ve been riding with you long.

While the devil trusts a secret

I trust my whiskey and my gun.

He begged and pleaded he was sorry

But for all that’s come and gone

Heaven knows no angels

I’m gonna find them when I’m done.

Dean kept playing the song on a loop. The singer seemed to be singing about him. Dean focused on the road ahead of him trying to see through the dark of the night. After a bit he arrived at his destination. He slowly pulled off the highway and parked outside a small white building that was nearly engulfed by the darkness of the night around it. The irony of the white building being the structure that held this particular meeting was not on lost on him. White usually symbolized purity but in this case, it was a refuge. He got out of the Impala hoping that one way or another this place would mean an end to his suffering, a place to rest his weary head either as a demon or as a human.

Dean walked into the facility hands in his pockets, eyes straight ahead as he barreled into the back room where the meeting was being held.

“Welcome friend, to Killers Anonymous. My name is Joel and I’m the group leader.”

Dean was never one for groups of people. “I don’t belong here. These are killers. If they were monsters, I’d hunt them but I’m here. Is this a good idea? Can they really help?”

“We meet once a week. This is a safe place where serial killers such as yourself can talk to like-minded individuals.” Joel didn’t miss the way Dean flinched at the word “serial killers.” His voice got softer almost like a parent talking to a child, “There is no judgment here. This is a place where we can deal with our addiction safely and help each other find a way back to humanity. You came just in time. We were going around the room introducing ourselves. Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“What a sales pitch. Here’s the hoping they can fix me. Made a trip here, might as well play along even if speaking in front of strangers was never my strong suit.” “Hi! I’m Dean and I’m addicted to killing. I can feel myself becoming a monster.”

“Welcome, Dean. It’s a big step coming here and admitting that you have a problem. That’s the first step.”

Dean resisted the urge to eye roll. “Wow, you’re a genius. Thanks - so helpful. What’s the fucking solution?” There were murmurs from the group.

“I know it seems impossible to go back to humanity, to join the world at large but it’s always possible. I’m married and my wife is expecting a child. I have a nine to five job. I’m living proof that it’s possible.”

“Wow. Selling me on the white picket fence. Bad sales pitch dude. Dean fucking Winchester doesn’t do white picket fences. Wonder if your wife knows you carve up people on the side. Is that more like a hobby?” There were murmurs from the group.

“This is an addiction like any other Dean. Some people are addicted to coffee, booze, drugs and for us, it’s killing. Some are addicted to the power that lies behind choosing who dies and who lives. Some call themselves vigilantes, some are products of a darker past and some crave the bloodlust. But, it’s an addiction like any other. I know it feels like it’s controlling you like it’s stronger than you are but it’s not. The darker urges, the darker voices are not who you are. You are who you want to be. You choose, not it. Each session deals with a technique on how to work with it.”

“That’s a better sales pitch. Murder as an addiction. Yeah, it is kinda like that. As far as I know of addictions. My brain shuts down and all I think and see is murder. If I restrain myself, I feel weak, and can barely function. I crave it and when I kill I feel invincible, horny even, and that’s what truly scares me. I like it and I shouldn’t. Clever group leader. I hope the technique works ‘cause I don’t think I can wait till next week to try the next one.” Dean sighed ready to try the activity when his thoughts changed drastically. “These idiots could never fathom what I’ve been through. I saved this broken world so many fucking times. I actually thought the world owed me a save back but I don’t think so. They don’t know about the Mark. What’s so bad about giving in? I’m tired. I’ll feel good when I give in - why am I fighting?” And that was when you walked in.

Take what you want from me

Take what you can

And then hide it somewhere I can’t see

Out of my hands

Do what it takes to make you feel better

Never forget that you

You’re nobody’s man

You honestly thought you looked like a hot mess but judging by the hungry look that someone new was giving you, maybe you didn’t. His gorgeous green eyes were looking you over. There was a darkness surrounding him that was drawing you in. You noticed him immediately. You had gone to this group, twice before finding the members uninspiring to say the least. You noticed his strange tattoo that was glowing on his arm. It looked painful and rather insistent. You assumed that the evil impulses originated from that. It looked all kinds of mystical and scary.

I love the way you set me off

With a stroke of your hand

And your puzzled look when we make love

That you don’t understand

But nothing I’ve got will make you feel better

At the break of dawn you’ll still

Be nobody’s man

“Hello Y/N. Good to see you again. Would you like to introduce yourself to our new members? This is Dean, by the way,” Joel offered.

Looking straight at the man called Dean, you spoke, “ Hi. I’m Y/N and I’m addicted to killing.” You looked him up and down, watching as his lips turned up into an award-winning smirk as he looked you up and down as well. You felt a pull towards him. You started to blush at the intense gaze he was giving you. He was definitely the real deal, not like the rest of these posers.

You lied to get in here. You had never really killed. You weren’t really addicted to killing more like addicted to men that killed, to the darkness inside them. The protection they offered, the adrenaline rush of the danger they provided and the crazy sex that went along with them. You never killed before and yes you knew it was horrible to use this group as a dating service but where else would you find a killer to be with? You had an addiction too. You were addicted to evil men and this green-eyed man staring straight at you might be exactly what you’ve been looking for all along, your own dark fairytale ending.

Nobody feels the weight of your mission

Nobody can set you free

Nobody knows the way to your fortune

Nobody and least of all…

So come and lay by my side

In my castle of sand

Let’s love till the early tide

Breaks down the dam

Stay if you want, for worse or for better

But never forget that you

You’re nobody’s man

“Today we’re going to try and think about the negative consequences. We made a journal last week to try and see what happens when we kill. What events or people give us the urge to kill. To control your urge, you have to be able to predict it, read the signs and know the triggers. We’ve all started to become aware of situations to avoid. Now let’s think about what we lose by killing. If the people we care about found out about what we do, what would happen?”

“What would happen? Are you fucking shitting me? This is the answer? Fight because of your loved ones? How does that help me? This is way stronger than fucking positive thinking!”

Dean was about to leave the group realizing that it wasn’t going to help him. Maybe it could help everyone else but he needed more help than a fucking cost analysis. You could see Dean’s frustration at what Joel said. Dean was the real deal and you didn’t want him to leave. You felt a real connection to him the moment you walked in. Not to mention he was all kind of sexy, tinged with a dangerous edge. You may never find another like him, at least not in this Podunk town. To make him stay, you would have to make things interesting. Time to put on a show.

Nobody feels the weight of your mission

Nobody can set you free

Nobody knows the way to your fortune

Nobody and least of all…

You… You… You… You…

Nobody feels the weight of your mission

Nobody can set you free

Nobody knows the way to your fortune

Nobody and least of all…

Dean was grabbing his coat when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He shifted his attention back to you. He saw you spread your legs in a Sharon Stone like move. Unlike Sharon Stone, you didn’t go commando, instead, you had on the prettiest black lace panties. Dean’s eyes slowly moved up from between your legs to look you in the eye. He quirked his eyebrow, silently asking you if you knew what you were starting. You smirked back at him wiggling your eyebrows in response. You knew exactly what you were starting and boy, did you hope Dean would finish it.

To egg him on a bit more, you arched your back presenting your breasts to his lustful gaze. Then your hands ran up your body ending at your head as you tousled your hair.

You gave him your best bedroom eyes through the few strands of hair that fell over your eyes. You noticed his eyes slowly darken with lust. He looked you up and down in a rather predatory gaze. One that you had wished men you dated before had. It made you wet just sitting there.

Dean had come here hoping for salvation and found a temptress, you, instead. Maybe fate wanted him to stop fighting? Maybe you were the prize after all the years of helping people of doing good? What a weird cosmic prize that would be? He lived the first half of his life with his brother doing the right thing; why not spend the rest of his life doing the wrong thing with you? Or was this the Mark talking?

He knew that by continuing this line of nonverbal sexy communication, he would damning himself but he didn’t care. He only wanted you. Wanted you to usher him into being a demon. He officially had given up at this exact moment. And all he felt was calm, he finally made the choice. There was no hope in this group, so why bother fighting? He already said his goodbyes to Sam, already tied up his affairs. It was finally time to become the monster the Mark wanted and judging by the slight squirming you were doing in your seat caused by the heated gaze he was giving you, you wanted the exact same thing. You were the right girl for the right situation.

Dean’s hand slowly reached down to rub his cock through his jeans. His gaze shifted from you to the group at your side, checking that their interest was elsewhere. When he was sure it was, he smiled back at you. You and Dean had no interest in the group anymore; your sole interest was in each other. You licked your lips and smiled back before slowly lifting your first finger and licking the length of it before nibbling and sucking it into your mouth. Dean’s cock got impossibly hard against his jeans as he watched the show. His breathing quickened.

In one long stride, he was over to where you were, grabbing your arm forcibly and growling in your ear, “You want to play with the big bad wolf, baby girl?”

“Take me, Dean. Make me yours.”

Dean growled as he led you out of the meeting. Joel and the other members were saying something to you but you could care less what it was. You never wanted anyone more than you wanted him and you could tell he felt the same way.

The second you saw a black 67 Impala in front of you, Dean whirled you around so your back was against the cool metal door. His free hand went to your throat grabbing it before he placed his lips on your forcibly.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for. What kind of man I am,” Dean said half pleading you to heed his warning and half hoping you didn’t.

“Why don’t you show me?” you questioned playfully.

“I don’t make love. I fuck hard.” Dean growled.

You whimpered at that, rubbing your thighs together at the thought. Dean groaned as he moved his head to your neck, smelling you. “You’re playing with fire, baby girl,” he breathed out slowly and reverently. Not really a warning anymore, more like a statement as he desperately tried to hold himself back from ravishing you.

“You doth protest too much,” you replied. You moved your hand and started rubbing his cock. He felt thick and big. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. When you started talking to him again, your voice was more confident and needy. “Stop arguing and warning me and fuck me already,” you commanded. He quirked his eyebrow at that. Smiling you added, “Nice use of the Rolling Stones.”

Dean smirked. “Nice use of a Shakespeare quote.”

“A well-read woman is a dangerous creature.”

Dean’s smirk grew. You placed his hand under your skirt to palm your clit. You arched your back as he rubbed your clit through your panties, his mouth laying claim to your neck, creating a dark hickey at your collarbone.

“That’s right Dean…fucking mark me. I’m yours. All yours to fuck, and touch, and tease, and do whatever you want with.”

His hand remained on your clothed clit, “Why me?” He asked, his voice holding a strangely sinister tone to it.

“I like the danger and the villainy you represent.”

He chuckled darkly. Oh, he liked you quite a bit. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.”

“Or will I awaken a side left dormant until now?”

Dean growled and nearly shoved you into the car speeding off away from the place that could have saved him. The whole drive, Dean kept his hand on your thigh, slowly reaching up your legs to dive into your panties. With one hand on the wheel and the other on your clit, he looked around for a good place for the two of you. He wasn’t planning on fucking you here in Baby. He wanted more room than that. His thumb pressed down hard on your clit while one of his long fingers slid into your warm pussy.

“All this for me sweetheart?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So fucking wet. You’re a bad little girl. Pretending to be a serial killer just to have my hot thick cock inside you. You went there looking for a man to feed your darker impulses. Fuck me! What a bad little girl. My bad little girl now.” He arched his finger inside you stroking your g-spot. “So fucking tight. Gotta work you open, precious.”

You arched your back moaning as he added another finger.

“Don’t come until I say so. You’re mine now and you will listen to me.” He commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you replied sighing, desperately needing him like this, controlling you.

He smirked at your reaction. “Good girl.” He added a third finger, scissoring them inside you, effectively stretching your walls. He curved them all so they hit your g-spot dead on. You were trembled and moaning, desperately fighting to not come. Your breathing was ragged, your eyes were closed, and your head was back against his leather seats trying to hold on.

“Please. Please. Dean, sir. I need to come.”

At that precise second, he drove right into an alleyway. He couldn’t wait anymore to sink his cock into your warm pussy.

“Then come,” he said while slowly turning his body all the way towards you, his eyes boring into yours. And just like that, you came. He smirked as he saw you arch your back, your hair falling onto the leather seats, your mouth open in an O and your hands grasping desperately to the bottom of your seat. Dean was entranced and turned on by watching you orgasm just from his fingers. He slowly slid his fingers out of your pussy and licked them, tasting you. You moaned at the sight. Dean’s eyes grew darker as he looked at you.

His hand slid around you to open the Impala door barking, “Get out and walk to the wall.” You obeyed immediately, running out and rushing to the wall. He was behind you in a second effortlessly turning you around so your ass was to his clothed cock. He grabbed your hair hard, his warm breath fanning over your neck. “You joined the group, why?” As he asked the question, he lifted up your skirt. He groaned at the sight of your ass in those black panties.

“I wanted to meet a real killer.”

Spank.

You moaned softly at the spank. “And what did you want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me.”

Spank.

“Really?”

“Y-y-yes, sir until I couldn’t walk. Until I collapsed completely satisfied.”

Spank.

“Were you fantasizing about me?”

Spank.

“What did you imagine me doing to you specifically?”

“I was imagining your lips on mine. Your hands on my body.”

Spank.

“And what were my hands doing?”

As you said each thing, Dean acted it out. “You were touching my nipples. Tweaking the buds until they were standing hard against the lace of my bra. You were kneading my breasts somewhere between rough and gentle. Then your hands reached down my body to press down on my clit while your fingers worked me through an orgasm.”

“Then what did you want to happen?”

Spank.

“Then you lifted up my skirt and thrust into me in one go.”

“You want that? You want me to fuck you right here in an alleyway? My dirty girl fucked by a killer in an alleyway? That what you want?”

“Yes.”

Spank.

“Make you mine? Make you come so hard, my name is only thing you remember?”

“Yes.”

In one fell swoop, he lifted up your skirt even higher; slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He took your hands and placed them on the wall to stabilize you Then he pushed your head forward. He took a moment to watch you like this. So needy for him. Willingly letting him not only fuck you here but let him position you. How trusting and pliant you were already for him.

Smirking, he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers to pool at his knees. He grabbed his cock in his hands and pumped it a few times while he stared at your ass. The Mark was surging on his arm as he thrust his cock inside you in one go. His hand wound into your hair forcing your head back.

He placed his hand on the wall by your head. He gave you a couple of seconds to adjust to how full you felt with him inside you. His cock wasn’t huge, but it was big and thick. It was quite the delicious stretch and it filled you up completely. He started thrusting into you fast and hard. The hand that was on the wall moved to rest in front of your head so you didn’t bump it on the wall with how hard he was thrusting into you. You both weren’t quiet, not caring if anyone saw or heard you. You were lost in the moment feeling Dean’s cock thrust in and out of you. You let out a litany of high-pitched moans while Dean growled and huffed.

“That’s right, fucking take my cock, all of it. You’re mine now,” he ground out as he bit down on your neck, making another dark hickey. The hand on your hair moved down to your neck as he squeezed it slightly before saying, “Fucking come now because I can’t hold on any longer.” And just like that, you came hard saying his name over and again like a prayer. His hand loosened over your throat as you kept screaming out his name. Your orgasm kept going, ending only when he slipped out of you after he growled your name and came hard shooting warm cum inside you. He pressed his body against yours, pushing you into the wall.

“Fuck, baby girl. Never saw a woman come that hard. You are mine! I meant what I said. Not letting you go but I need you -.”

You whirled around moving in his arms to face him. “After that. I’m not going anywhere. You’re fucking sex on two legs. An amazing lover. But before I do whatever you need me to do to release the inner baddie, let’s say goodbye to our humanity by doing something I’m sure we both enjoyed as children.” You noted Dean’s confused look and smiled warmly at him placing your hand on his cheek. “Let’s go to the arcade and play some games. Relive happy childhood memories before we embark on a darker path and leave behind the people we once were.”

“You’re quite eloquent after sex.”

“You’re quite observant after sex.”

Dean smiled a genuine smile, carefully pulling down your skirt and fixing the both of you so you didn’t look like you just fucked in an alley.

He held open the car door for you and closed it behind you before he walked around to get in himself. You took out your iPhone to look up arcades in the area. You found one in seconds and you quickly gave Dean the directions. He sped off like a bullet. You grabbed onto the side of the car and yelled out happily, excited.

He felt happy and free with you. He knew he had made the right decision. He wasn’t giving up; he was giving another life a chance, a darker life with you as his mate.

Dean parked in front of the arcade.

“It’s closed.” He stated amusedly.

“Oh hush now. That shouldn’t be a problem for us. Now should it?” You said teasingly.

Dean smirked and jumped out of the car. You impressed him by breaking into the arcade yourself. He impressed you by figuring out how to turn the lights on. You in turn shut off the alarm. You didn’t want anyone crashing your party.

You played for hours reminiscing about your childhoods and the happy times you remembered. You even ran out to get some champagne to drink in between playing shooting games. Of course, the two of you would gravitate towards shooting games, working seamlessly as a team to win every game with minimal do-overs.

You laughed and were both carefree for once, totally in the moment. This was the perfect way to end the night. He broke into the gift shop and stole you the cutest stuffed bear anyone would ever want. You smiled at him and left there hand in hand, ready for whatever happened next.

Rainy night and we worked all day

We both got jobs ‘cause there’s bills to pay

We got something they can’t take away

Our love, our lives

Close the door, leave the cold outside

I don’t need nothing when I’m by your side

We got something that’ll never die

Our dreams, our pride

You got back in the car and he put on, “Born to Be My Baby.”

“I’m usually only an AC/DC guy but my brother likes this song. I kinda stole the cassette from him. I thought the song would be fitting.”

“Perfect, my little thief.”

My heart beats like a drum (all night)

Flesh to flesh, one to one (and it’s alright)

And I’ll never let go cause

There’s something I know deep inside

You were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

We got something to believe in

Even if we don’t know where we stand

Only God would know the reasons

But I bet he must have had a plan

'Cause you were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

You couldn’t help but sing it with him. You were born to be his baby and he was born to be yours. He played it on repeat and the both of you just basked in the moment.

Light a candle, blow the world away

Table for two on a TV tray

It ain’t fancy, baby that’s OK

Our time, our way

So hold me close better hang on tight

Buckle up, baby, it’s a bumpy ride

We’re two kids hitching down the road of life

Our world, our fight

If we stand side by side (all night)

There’s a chance we’ll get by (and it’s alright)

And I’ll know that you’ll be live

In my heart till the day that I die

He knew that Sam would trace him with this car so to your surprise, he drove back to the meeting. The building was dark now and only your car was there in the parking lot.

“My brother will be looking for me. He won’t let us be happy. He’ll be trying to save me, fix me so let’s take your car.”

“Are you sure about this?” You questioned, hoping he would still say yes.

“I was sure the second my eyes met yours.” He slowly got out of the car knowing what this would mean. He could do this. He had to do this. This was the point of no return. There was no saving him. He tried everything. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He couldn’t go to back to Sam after fucking you and being so content with you. You were his and he could only have you if he gave in to his darker impulses and so he handed you a knife. “I know that you’ve never killed anyone but I need you to stab me through the heart with this. It’s a crazy thing to ask someone. Especially someone you just met. Now don’t go getting all teary eyed or worried. I’ll come back as a demon.”

You looked at him confused, “You’re crazier than I thought. What?!” You thought the “transformation” was a mental thing not a literal thing.

Dean placed your hands on the knife. “Trust me, baby. This is the way we can be together. I know you noticed my tattoo. It’s mystical. It keeps me alive, no matter what happens. Trust me. I can’t let you go and I can’t be with you like this.”

You know this sounded weird and anyone else would have run but you weren’t anyone else. You desperately wanted to be with him. You had never killed anyone but somehow you trusted him. You trusted him after only knowing him for a few hours. You were crazy just like the man in front of you.

That symbol was definitely mystical so it could do what he said but it’s difficult stabbing someone all the same. You tried but you hands shook as you positioned it over his heart. He looked down at you with a sad smile, understanding your difficulty.

He placed his hands on top of yours as he pushed the knife into his heart. He gasped and so did you. You grabbed his waist as he slumped to the ground by your car. You kneeled beside him watching the light fade from his eyes. You waited there growing more nervous by the minute desperately hoping he would wake up like he promised.

After a few tense moments, he chuckled darkly sensing your worry. He slowly opened his eyes revealing his completely black eyes.

“Missed me baby?” He grabbed your hair, pulling you towards him as he crammed his lips onto yours. “Told you I was telling you the truth.”

You let out a huge sigh, relieved. He withdrew his lips from yours and looked you over. You smiled a huge smile, biting your lip at how hot this all was. “A fucking demon. A real demon!” “Power and evil in some hot package,” you thought to yourself.

He held his finger up. “Not just any demon. A Knight of Hell, baby.” He picked you up in his arms and carried you into your car.

'Cause you were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

We got something to believe in

Even if we don’t know where we stand

Only God would know the reasons

But I bet he must have had a plan

'Cause you were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

My heart beats like a drum (all night)

Flesh to flesh, one to one (and it’s alright)

And I’ll never let go cause

There’s something I know deep inside

“Where to, darling?”

“Anywhere but here?”

“Sounds perfect. Hold on, sweetheart.” And he snapped his fingers leaving the woman he was growing quite fond of behind, to leave Sam a quick note that read:

Sam,

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fight this. I’m sorry our last conversation ended with me having to knock you out but you can be a stubborn ass sometimes. It’s a family trait. Love you Sammy. Take care. And take care of Baby. The coordinates of where she is are on the bottom of the paper. Don’t look for me. I’m not coming back. There is no cure. I like the disease. Let me go.

-Dean

The second he was back you asked him, “You can teleport?”

“Oh darling, there are a lot of things demons can do. I’m going to have so much fun showing you. For example, demons can do this.” He snapped his fingers and instantly you were coming hard, screaming out his name. He smirked at you, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to enjoy this.” Pulling back to look in your eyes, he casually asked, “You like karaoke?”

You chuckled at the juxtaposition and the randomness of the question. “As long as I’m with you. I’ll go anywhere.”

“Good answer.”

You had no idea what was going to happen next but you finally found your soulmate, your evil counterpart and you couldn’t be happier. As your mother always said, “there’s someone for everyone.” And Dean Winchester was born for you.

'Cause you were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

We got something to believe in

Even if we don’t know where we stand

Only God would know the reasons

But I bet he must have had a plan

'Cause you were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

You were born to be my baby

And baby, I was made to be your man

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Forevers @purgatoan, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everyday-supernatural-af, @neversatisfiedgirl, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @deals-with-demons, @mamaredd123, @atc74, @hamartiamacguffin, @donnaintx, @love-kittykat21, @impala-dreamer, @evansrogerskitten, @lucifer-in-leather, @hiswickedkitty

Dean @jayankles, @faith-in-dean, @bennyyh, @ruprecht0420 @supernatural-jackles, @jesspfly, @webcricket,

@aprofoundbondwithdean, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @manawhaat @mrswhozeewhatsis, @dr-dean, @nichelle-my-belle, @theficlibrarium, @bowtiesandapplepie, @winchestersmolder, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @thegreatficmaster, @salvachester, @notnaturalanahi, @bkwrm523, @faith-in-dean, @writingbeautifulmen, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @samsgoddess, @scorpiongirl1, @for-the-love-of-dean, @mysupernaturalfics, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @fiveleaf, @frenchybell, @deansleather, @deandoesthingstome, @curliesallovertheplace, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @waywardjoy, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious, @kayteonline, @supernatural-jackles, @wevegotworktodo, @ilovedean-spn2 , @quiddy-writes, @babypieandwhiskey, @wi-deangirl77, @deantbh, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @revwinchester, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @inmysparetime0, @clueless-gold, @deanwinchesterxreader, @melbel45, @winchester-family-buisness, @atwistoffate, @hexparker, @alangel1895, @quiddy-writes, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen. @supernaturalismylife, @pinknerdpanda, @deandoesthingstome, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @winchesterfiesta, @i-dont-know-how-to-write, @babypieandwhiskey, @wayward-mirage , @spn-fan-girl-173, @shelovesallthethings, @revwinchester, @klaineaholic, @salvachester, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @fandommaniacx, @teamfreewillimagines, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @castieltrash1, @supernaturallyobsessed, @memariana91, @writingbeautifulmen, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @idreamofhazel, @revwinchester, @supermoonpanda, @ageekchiclife, @i-dont-know-how-to-write, @vintagevalentinexx, @ohwritever, @ruined-by-destiel, @winchester-writes, @thinkwrongways @sammit-janet @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @matteson-crazed, @castielspahdehrah, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @gryffindorable713, @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @mrsjohnsmith, @manawhaat, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @thewinchestielboys, @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel, @kittenofdoomage, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien, @myfand0msandm0re, @ackleslaugh @noisilyyoungpuppy, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @chrisatplay, @kayteonline, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean @for-the-love-of-dean, @mamaimpala, @zanthiasplace, @sleep-silent-angel, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @tia58, @sams-little-toy, @sunriserose1023, @saving-things-hunting-family, @winchesterswoonathon, @jotink78, @lucifer-in-leather, @babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @supernatural-jackles, @avasmommy224, @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings, @mysaintsasinner, @chelsea-winchester, @besslincoln-bruh, @wheresthekillswitch, @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel, @notnaturalanahi

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ouijasurfboard-blog · 7 years ago

Text

a very first-drafty sample chapter from the middle of EACAG

Chapter 39: A Blanket Fort of Nonsense

(because of tumblr formatting, things previously in italics may no longer appear as such. gee, that sucks. hopes it still reads okay thanks for reading

)

Cody burst from the shadows and into the streetlight, clothes sodden and dripping, thinning hair pinned to his face. His left eye was squinted by a swelling purple bruise and his lip had been torn open. His hands were bloody, half of them clutching his ribs. Furthermore, and most importantly, he’d lost his glasses. “The hell happened to you?” He stumbled forward, gathered himself, and put a hand on the streetlight to keep steady. “Ellie—have you been following me?” There was stagger in his voice as well as his balance. “Dude, no, I—” “Stop following me! God! I’m never alone! Why is everyone obsessed with me? It’s like, ew, I can feel you staring. Sorry. We were having a good time, and then I threw up on you with words. I’m so sorry.” He hunched over and vomited off the curb. “Ew. Anyway. It’s cool that you were following me. I get it. Sorry for freaking out. You’re like… my cool, wacky mom who’s younger than me.” My idiot son wasn’t done vomiting. I moved closer. “Cody, buddy, baby, your glasses—” “Sooo, here’s what happened. Did I interrupt you? Sorry. Don’t care. I mean, I do care, but, like, oh right, so, my glasses. So here’s what happened to my glasses. I was out with the boys.” Cody definitely met all of these boys no more than eight hours ago. “And we were at this club, then the song comes on, you know the one, and then I sing along, and everyone’s like ‘woah Cody we didn’t know you were bleeblerhblerhwhatever’ because I don’t, anyway, so this girl is like, ‘blerhblerh hey youuuerrr good singer me and the ladies going to a karaoke bar’ and I was like, ‘hell YEAH’ so I get in this van, and they’ve got like beads and shit and erm-ermpheta-amphetamines and at first I’m like, ‘naaaw dude’ but then they’re like, ‘yaaaw, dude’ and so I’m gonna, but they, so like, my badge, my fake badge, ‘aaagh oh shit a cop’ so I get the SHIT kicked out of me by this old guy and these three girls and this HUGE guy, and I’m coughing up blood but THEN the BOYS show up, drag me back to the first club, and then I’m like, to uh, the bartender, ‘hey can I a doubleblerhblerhblerh’ and she’s like ‘duude yourr fuckin face go to a mirror’ so I go to the bathroom and my face is straight fucked to shit, Ellen, and, uh, like, my glasses, where are they, not on my face, that’s where, but it’s party time let’s go beast mode so I pound a few with the boys and then they’ve got this shit that’s on fire but the fire’s purple but so like what the fuck and I get something called a curb stomp and that might be where I went wrong but anyway so me and Ian are outside wrestling and I’m punching him and he’s punching me and I punch him in the face and I hear this crack and I’m like oh shit I just fucked up his face forever bye so I’m running and the boys are chasing me and I think I lost them a few blocks ago? Who knows anyway I missed you.” His whole body began titling forward, and I put a hand on him to keep the pavement from flying upwards into his already sufficiently fucked face. “So, how many boys are there, total?” He counted on his fingers, muttering names to himself, lost count, swore, started again, and answered, “uhh… six?” Whilst contemplating my ability to somehow arrange the inconspicuous deaths of six people, what I had previously disregarded as over-vigorous rainfall turned to be foot steps fast encroaching. A man came into view from behind Cody, looking only half as frazzled but thrice as bloodthirsty. “HEY YOU! DEPRESSING HAIR GUY!” Cody’s eyes went wide as insert tired simile. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “I AM GOING TO DIE.” I took his wrist and bolted. I made it about five steps dragging him as a sack of half-blind whining meat before realizing we wouldn’t get anywhere. That he had managed to evade anyone at all was a miracle. The man tore Cody away from me and forced him against a wall by his neck. It all happened at once: I went for his eyes with my fingernails, he booted me in the shin, I took his ear in my teeth, he dropped Cody and kicked me in the ribs, I fell away with a bloody ear in my mouth, air having departed my lungs entirely. I thought sadly to myself, whoops Cody was right on this one. I clutched my ribs and curled up on the pavement. This massive pug-looking guy raised his foot to stomp the life from me when Cody’s fist emerged from the shadows like a hairy angel and, at the very least, distracted him momentarily. He recoiled his fist in pain, probably having shattered something if his agh! was any indicator. “I’m sorry. I’m very drunk and nerdy and skinny,” he said, wincing with every breath. Cody got himself socked in the gut. “Why are you doing this? I thought you didn’t like Ian.” “Your face annoys me. It’s a real punchable face.” Cody sighed. “Okay. I get it. So—” He stopped mid-sentence to vomit. The man raised his fist. “Nononowait! Just… thirty seconds. Oh my god. So, yeah, sorry about your shoes, and sorry about my face. It just came this way. And… you can punch it until it isn’t annoying, but please don’t hurt my dumb friend Ellen.” “Dude! She bit my ear off!” “Yeah, she’s really, really dumb. She’s so dumb that I bet she learned her lesson just from those ribs you broke. You don’t even need to break her legs or kill her. Also, she, like, only has one hand and stuff, and she’s like, super super short, so it wouldn’t really be a fair fight.” “You think I care?” Cody glanced down at me. “Ellen. Bernie. You gotta—” He was interrupted by another blow, but I took his meaning well enough. There was a scared little kid in danger out there, and this jowly cunt wasn’t going to stop me from finding him and then subsequently hugging him and never letting go again. I forced myself off the ground, drawing attention away from Cody long enough for him to just kick this dude right in the balls. He recoiled only just very briefly, which was nearly enough time to evade him, but not quite. He kneed Cody in the groin. I was on my feet and this point, and with a stroke of luck, managed to once again kick this dude in the balls before he plunged his fist into my gut. Everyone involved, at this point, was very angry and in pain. Unfortunately, drunk Cody lacked the manic superhuman strength of heroin Cody and even the admittedly subpar coordination of sober Cody, so our combined force didn’t amount to much. Fortunately, pug-boy’s testicles seemed to be in a pretty hefty state of distress, and I saw his determination begin to falter. Unfortunately, the pain only made him angrier, and the anger only made him punchier. “I’LL KILL YOU!” he screamed. I tugged Cody away. “You gotta run, dude,” I told him, as though it would persuade his balance to be more compliant. He tried his best. He really did. The large and shouting man was ever on our heels. I dug my fingers into Cody’s ridiculous flannel shirt and held on for (his) dear life. He stumbled on every slight abnormality in the sidewalk. Every bump, every crack, every shred of litter was a hurdle. In the seven years that we’d known each other, Cody had lost his glasses twice. Once after passing out at an otherwise underwhelming party to find them two days later sunk in a half-eaten nutrient slab, and the second time after accidentally leaving them at his then-girlfriend’s cell to retrieve them the following week when she finally found them behind her desk (one of many small unfortunate happenings that ultimately culminated in their breakup). Both times, their absence had put his life on halt. I swerved around a corner, dragging Cody, who’d become a tearful limping disaster. This wasn’t really the place to admit that I’d forgotten where I was. The hotel was definitely on the same plane of time and space as us, and if we were lucky, within the same ten mile radius, too. Finding it again was a matter of endurance and favour with our respective personal deities. Cody and I scrambled wildly from street to street, looping around familiar sign posts sometimes deliberately but sometimes definitely not deliberately and ultimately just getting ourselves more lost in an effort to lose slobbery hulking pug-boy. Cody was panting and heaving like he was in labour. I expected him to collapse at any moment, and I wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to lug around one hundred and twenty-four pounds of bored astigmatic stoner over my shoulders whilst also running for my life. As was to be expected at this point, a dumb idea occurred to me. I swerved into an alley, optimistically refusing to check over my shoulder, and flipped up the unfortunately crusty lid of a dumpster. “Hop over,” I said to a barely lucid Cody. His immediate reaction was to take advantage of the sudden interlude in our running to throw up. He had the good sense to wipe his mouth afterwards, at least. “What?” I slapped my hand against the dumpster in frustration. “The dumpster! Get it the dumpster!” He nodded slowly. “Dumpster… yeah… good thinking, Helen.” His eyes fluttered closed. I shook him by the shoulder. “I’m gonna boost you up, okay?” He nodded vigorously. “Boost me up, Scotty,” he said, drooling and struggling to keep awake. I clumsily took his foot with the one hand and propelled him upwards with all the strength of five determined meerkats. He tumbled into the dumpster like a sad domino made out of jelly. I followed after him and let the lid clatter shut over our heads, pinching my fingertips as it closed. “It’s dark and smelly in here,” whispered Cody. It was reassuring to hear that he hadn’t passed out. “It sure is, buddy.” “We have to find Bernie.” I took this matter very seriously. “Or die trying.” He patted his hand around until it landed on my shoulder. “Don’t die for a goat, Ella.” I shrugged. “Gotta die somehow.” He withdrew his hand. Time crawled by at a drugging pace. There wasn’t a comfortable way to sit in a dumpster. I waited, distracting myself with memories and hypotheticals, occasionally nudging Cody to make sure he wasn’t dead. After my awkwardly-positioned legs and the odd metal shape jutting into them became completely unbearable, I decided it was as good a time as any to leave. “Time to sneak out, huh?” It was hard to draw a coherent image of what his non-verbal cues might’ve been in the dark, but I assumed he was shrugging. “I guess,” he said. I slowly raised the dumpster lid. Cody’s arms flailed over the side and he dragged himself out, limbs moving in a fashion more akin to an octopus than a think-piece writer. “Oof,” he muttered, tailbone hitting the pavement. I followed after him, stopping to help him to his feet. “We’re good, right? Yeah. We’re good.” I glanced around, scanning every detail of our surroundings that wasn’t obscured by darkness. Maybe we weren’t good. There wasn’t really an effective metric by which to tell. “We’re so good,” I reassured him, making the mistake of patting him on the back. He shrunk away. “Agh! My ribs,” he whelped. “I’m so sorry. Oh my god. Are you okay?” He seemed stunned that I cared. “Uh… I guess I’m good.” He evidently was not good. “Like I said! We’re good! Totally good!” Cody pouted, lip trembling. He folded his arms and stared down at his feet. “I wanna go to bed,” he said, voice straining as is its wont before one breaks down into sobs. “I really just wanna go to bed. Where are we?” He sniffled and wiped his nose. “Everything hurts.” He kicked his toes into the side of the dumpster, biting back a sharp gasp of pain as the joints in his foot staggered and crunched. The dumpster didn’t seem to mind, much, at least. “I got beat up by so many different people. Is my face really that punchable?” Cody fixed his eyes on mine, waiting for an answer. His features were crusted with blood and tightened in just, like, the saddest frown. His already prominent eyebrows were spiked in odd directions by the fray and beaded with raindrops and sweat and blood. His busted lip had stopped bleeding but promised a scar that wouldn’t be, I don’t know, pleasant. The rainfall and the brawling had done nothing for an already unfortunate hair situation. The spots above his temples and on the back of his head where his hair had begun to abandon him entirely weren’t quite as obscured by the eccentric volume of the rest of his hair, having been flattened and soaked. The real essence of his punchability, I decided, came from his facial hair, which crawled all the way up his cheeks and down his neck and always looked vaguely unkempt in a flippant I don’t even care, I’m just so cool and aloof and stuff kind of way that really miffed some people. He just looked smug. And as long as we’re bashing Cody’s appearance, his ears were a little on the big side. On top of it all, he was naked without his glasses. Truly, the man who always resembled a sad, hipstery less-hairy ewok had become the saddest, hipsteriest less-hairy ewok ever to ewok sadly. He didn’t really need to hear all that. “Not at all.” Not to me, at least. “You’ve got a super normal face.” You’ve got weird eyebrows. I mean, I like ‘em, but, buddy… And your eyes are kinda sunken. “Don’t worry. You’re cute.” “I’m cute?” “Yes. Absolutely.” He sniffled. “But, like, just nerdy cute, right?” “Yeah. It’s the glasses.” “But I lost my glasses…” “That’s okay. You’re still stoner cute.” “Stoner cute isn’t a thing.” “Uh, yeah it is.” “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Just, like, take a finger and fix your eyebrows.” He nodded and tried to smooth them into place. “Cool. Better.” I mean, his face was still bloody and swollen in places, but, eh. “Cool.” “Cool.” He sighed. “But, I’m not, like, hot, right?” “Eh.” He straightened his shirt. “Cool.” He swallowed another heavy breath to stop his quivering. “Cool cool.” Still unsure about his balance, I walked carefully and close so I needn’t reach far should he just, fuckin, like, fall right the fuck over. The buildings weren’t so unfamiliar now that they were more than just a blur in my periphery. We had made it more than a few blocks away from the hotel, but we hadn’t gotten ourselves as hopelessly lost as I had feared. We were just normal lost. “How bad’s your vision?” I asked. He looked down at me, face pale and still a little shell-shocked. “Like, bad.” “’Kay, but, like, bad bad or just straight fuckin blind.” “Uhh… I can’t read, can’t do details or things that are far away or things with small parts or operate machinery or coordinate well or grab things or write… uh… Actually, I probably could read if the letters were really big, but, uh, yeah. That’s it.” He would periodically reach to adjust glasses that weren’t there, dropping his hand sadly upon being reminded. Finding them became more immediately imperative than whatever other bullshit we were up to. Something to do with an organ harvester? Who knows. Bottom line was that Cody was, while not useless and still better company than no company (sixty percent of the time, at least), in very desperate need of his dumb thick-rimmed trendy-ten-years-ago glasses. “Can you still contact your optometrist guy?” “Optometrist? Dude, no, okay, shut up, it’s a good story, though, listen. So, I was walking… this was like, twelve years ago? Oh shit, I’m old… so, uh, I was walking… I already had glasses at this point, by the way. The school counsellor got me these shitty ones… anyway… So, I’m fourteen, walking on the docks, and there’s this bucket, and I’m like, oh a bucket, but then I got closer, and I was like, oh shit, this bucket is full of glasses. Mostly broken ones, right? So I’m trying them on, ‘cause, why not, and this guy starts yelling, ‘hey kid uuhhh so, like, that’s my bucket’ and he’s a scavenger, right? Because there’s like, also a bucket of shoes lying around and a bucket of tea strainers and whatever… So, I’m just grabbin a handful of not-broken glasses and running away because, like, I’ve just been coasting by at this point by cheating in school and I hold papers really close to my face… anyway… So, one of the pairs, like, work, I know, what the fuck, ayy, Mazel Tov, Cody can see. And, uh, yeah. I kept ‘em. Duh. The end. How have you not heard this story?” “I don’t ask you about—” “You don’t ask me about myself as much as you should,” he finished for me. He scoffed. “I dunno why, I’m preettyy interesting.” This wasn’t entirely true. The uh, me not asking him about himself part, not the him being interesting part. Actually, never mind, neither were entirely true. I felt like I knew more about Cody than anyone should know or care to know about Cody. There was a filing cabinet inside of my brain labeled ‘bullshit nonsense about Cody’s life’ take took up a vacancy once occupied by, who knows, how to negotiate a pay raise or how to budget properly instead of just hoarding money like a sad(der) Smaug. “You sure are, Cody.” “I bet that’s why I got beat up.” “Because you’re interesting?” “Because I’m interesting.” I nodded in agreement. That put a dumb short-lived smile on his face. He must’ve had some faith that I knew where I was going, since he didn’t seem to question it much. I was confident, perhaps (probably) over-confident in my sense of direction. It’s a finite space, I reasoned, and we can’t possible be getting further away. We could. In large, square-ish letters, the sign read INTERIM GARDEN HYPOTHESIS WAREHOUSE HOLE, flashing pink and accented with gold baubles. The door below was an archway woven with flowering vines and patterned ribbons, among them a smattering of just the most pretentious butterflies. The building itself was robed in an elaborate mural depicting a panel of dapperly-clothed animals seated at some sort of senate, all gathered below a three-eyed goat. The goat was crowned and sat upon a throne at the head of the senate floor. I felt viscerally unnerved. Cody squinted at the sign. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s some Noam Chomsky magic realism boho nonsense,” I assured him. We’d arrived in some sort of strange hellish Halsey-esque plaza where the stores were either barren and abandoned à la zombie apocalypse or teeming with aesthetically-bohemian taken-back-by-the-earth-and-also-Portland life. Roses crept down from windows and thistles jutted upwards from cracks in the pavilion. Entrances were attended by delphiniums and hibiscus sprouting beneath fern umbrellas. Ventilation shafts sighed baby’s breath into the corridors and blew nettles amongst the ghosts and husks of furniture. Christmas bells hung from streetlights and lilacs pooled amidst a collapsed fountain. Geraniums and lavender and ominous oleander waved us towards the Warehouse Hole. It was all very eco-chic. Cody ventured further into the flowery nonsense strip mall. “The colourful stuff is flowers, right,” he said, unimpressed. Pink light glittered against the blood and rain that painted him. “This is dumb. Like…” He gestured wildly at everything. “This is dumb. Are we lost?” Yes. “Pfft. No.” “We’re gonna find my glasses, right?” he said, talking to a mannequin. “It’s our number one priority.” He stumbled trying to follow my voice. “Okay. Cool. Good.” “Are you gonna be okay?” “Who knows? Maybe.” I brushed my hand along a white bouquet of Star-of-Bethlehem. “You know what? Not a fan.” The flowers looked to be watching me leave, which was the opposite of an appropriate flower activity. “It’s bright, it’s spooky… not a fan. Uh, not on board with this one.” Cody lost his balance on a root curving up from the pavement, catching himself on a wayward clothing rack. “Haha. Walking: hard mode.” He puked into a corner of unsuspecting irises and daisies. Regaining his footing was a matter of crunching a broken window beneath his sneakers and nearly becoming impaled upon an unfortunately-positioned upturned signpost. “Ellen, uh, seriously, where are we?” Interim Garden Hypothesis Warehouse Hole. “A blanket fort of nonsense.” He staggered away from the broken glass. “Oh. I hate blanket forts.” Drawn by the flashing lights, he veered towards the entrance to the Hole. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve been here. We’re lost, aren’t we? Uugggghhh, Elleeennn…” “We’re not lost! You can only get lost in the desert and in the ocean because everything looks the same. Everywhere else you can just backtrack.” “WE DON’T KNOW WHERE WE ARE!” “YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!” “I’M LEGALLY BLIND!” I filled my lungs with pollen-dusted air, raising my hands in a calming arc, and sighed, ultimately doing nothing to lessen the tension. “Let’s just… go back the way we came, and figure it out from there.” “We’re going to the hotel, right?” “Hotel. Yes. Sleep. Then glasses.” I turned by back to the flowers, not without a pinch of regret that I wouldn’t sate my curiosity as to what the hell, I mean, just, like, what the hell, right? What’s going on here? The mural? What? Cody and I fumbled our way free of the Warehouse Hole pavilion. There seemed to be more flowers surrounding the exit than there’d been when it was our entrance. Watchful irises eyed our escape. The feeling of being spied upon lingered on the back of my neck. “Spooky, right?” “I don’t know, Ellen, my vision is shit right now, call back at a less shitty date, thanks.” The sign read ‘Zlotys St.’ but there was nothing zloty about it. A strange mingling of sprawling weeds and rain-freckled trash bags and masonry stained by a dazzling selection of mystery fluids coagulated, as it were, to form the district before us. Confused seagulls squawked overhead from the buzzing heads of streetlights. The first establishment past the plaza was a barber shop called Snippy’s which was attached to a laundromat called Swishy’s that itself was followed by a family-owned deli shop called Slicey’s. What humour! While the quirky fixtures of the city were as delightful as they were smelly, they remained unfamiliar and were of no help when it came to finding our way back. “You know, I should’ve bought a map,” I said, padding along, ducking beneath the odd awning to evade the rain. “You’re an idiot,” said Cody, who had had enough of life. “Nothing idiotic about being reflective of one’s past failings, amigo.” “You just never turn it off, do you?” “It’s called a coping mechanism, Cody. Look into one some time.” He sighed and picked up his pace, hand clutching his ribs as to, I assume, keep them from falling out of some open wound whose existence I wasn’t yet privy to. I caught up to him. “Are you good?” I asked. He remained visibly in pain. “I don’t know. No? Probably not. I just, ugh, I want to sleep it off, okay?” I frowned in pity at him. Whenever something adverse befell him on our dumb stupid completely necessary endeavour, I couldn’t escape my share of the blame. I was most worried in this moment that he’d finally gotten himself into a truly lethal pickle with those fisticuffs. Obviously, whatever happened, it was the boys’ fault, but obviously, it was really Cody’s own fault, but obviously, it was more than a little bit my fault for dragging him out here in the first place. “I know you’re gonna die no matter what and whatever, but I’d be pretty bummed if you died… soon…” “Thanks, I guess.” “So, please don’t die as a result of your injuries. The guilt would eat me alive, and it’s hard to effectively find a small, defenceless goat after you’ve been eaten alive.” “If you say don’t die or I’ll kill you, I will actually punch you.” Through the darkness and the downpour, it was hard to discern anything glaringly off about his appearance from the bored and tired norm. It was similarly hard to discern buildings we’d passed from ones we hadn’t. You could see the source of my predicament. I toyed with the prospect of returning to the Interim Garden Hypothesis Warehouse Hole for little reason beyond that it remained nearby and intriguing. “So, those flowers, huh?” I brought up out of nowhere. Cody scowled. “Hippies.” “But it was kinda neat, right? It was stupid—” “It was dumb as hell.” “…but kinda neat, though, right?” “I WANT TO GO TO BED.” I sighed and tugged my lips in a sympathetic smile. “Bed it is, Codes. Maybe tomorrow—” “Uugggghhhh, tomorrow suuucks.” “… after we find your glasses, we’ll, uh, we’ll pop by the warehouse.” The three-eyed-goat from the mural lingered on the back of my eyelids. Anything goat-related, at this point, seemed worth investigating. We turned a corner and Zlotys Street became a vaguely familiar cobbled road marked by a signpost that read Hellspring Rampart. To the right of us were brick-and-mortal buildings that stood as one long, undivided stretch of masonry, separated by interior walls rather than alleys. To the left was nothing but ocean. The sidewalk metamorphosed into the halfhearted suggestion of a pier underfoot. The black sky had waned into a dim grey and dawn loomed far off upon the waters. I knew Hellspring as the rickety cousin to the main docks where we’d arrived. I was confident that we were closer, now. “So, Codes…” “Ugh.” “What was the name of the club where you, uh… where you went?” “Uugghh… Uh… Okay. It’s called Boys Only Club, but it’s liiike, just the name. It’s not actually boys-only, right.” The whole situation was ruthlessly atypical of Cody. It was beyond strange for him to go out partying with strangers, let alone strangers of overbearing and loud masculinity. That was, until now, strictly my dominion. Of course, it was more than probable that the night’s unfortunate happenings had extinguished whatever curious appetite he might’ve had for the sort of debauchery he’d found. “How’d you end up there?” He scratched his head. “I probably walked.” “Yuh-huh. How’d you find, uh, the boys?” He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh, in a past life. “I have no idea!” His foot took a wrong turn and he nearly swerved into the ocean. I pulled him by his sleeve to my other side so I might act as a buffer between his shit balance and the sharks. “And what about, uh, those karaoke girls? What bar did you go to with them?” He gave me a long, condescending stare. “You think I know?” His glasses were lost as fuck. The brick buildings parted into the first alley we’d encountered for an irresponsibly long distance. It appeared as a long blue gash in the red walls. Banners and triangle flags and paper lanterns dangled on sagging strings overhead. A sign bolted in the bricks read LONG ALLEY. If you squinted, smaller letter inscribed below read *Beware rats; they’re not more afraid of you than you are of them. Quite the opposite, actually*. I shrugged at the warning. The end of the alley was bright and bustling, and the pier reached a dead end not far from where we stood. I decided on chancing the rats. Long Alley carried a thick, sickly, cinnamonny flavour in its breeze. Pipes coursed as veins along the walls, rusted and dripping. Cody trailed a hand on the bricks as he walked to keep from tripping again. The bricks soon gave way to doors and beaded archways into shops and things categorically near enough to shops to make no difference. Freckles of orange began to tinge the grey sky. “Hey Ellie,” said Cody with awkward, slow syllables. “What?” “You know what’s dumb?” “Probably.” “Well… I’ll tell you anyway…” He stopped, took hold of a low-hanging pipe, and threw it an accusing finger. “I can’t see or stand so good, but that is definitely a rat, and it is definitely following me.” The good and bad news was that he hadn’t been hallucinating from blood loss and exhaustion. The rat, a grotesque snow-white red-eyed creature of unusual size, glowered hungrily at Cody. It stood hunched on the rusted pipe, undaunted entirely by our presence per the foretelling of the sign. “Ohh, that’s a creepy baby right there,” I said, twiddling what few fingers I had in its direction. The rat stood still and stoic as a Buckingham Palace guard. “I don’t like you, pal. Don’t like those eyes,” Cody told the rat. “Go eat a cheese, ugly.” The rat wasn’t moved by his insults. “This is a nasty boy, Ellen. Let’s leave.” Cody shot the rat a venomous, knowing squint before shuffling along. The rat scurried across the pipes, following like a magnet. As we drew nearer to the end of the alley, more rats began to spring from the pipes and cracks in the mortar. Cody kept to the middlemost point between the walls, arms crossed crossly. Soon flowers began to wind down from the cracks as well, one for every new rat that bounded into view. My skin crawled. The alley spat us out into an overgrown pavilion bathed in the flashing pink light of INTERIM GARDEN HYPOTHESIS WAREHOUSE HOLE.

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