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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

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His Mistress - Series Finale

Warning: 18+ smut, mentions of cheating, coarse language, mature themes.

Author’s Note: I am terrible at ending stories because I never want them to end. The ending I initially wrote wasn’t good enough, so I started again until I felt it was right. I’ll keep it brief, but I want to thank all the readers who fueled this crazy fire and inspired me to flesh out a dark love story that I’m proud to say I wrote. I’ll miss Mr. Deaver and all the smutty, angsty, drama of his life with his mistress. Thanks for tolerating the never-ending POV shifts and filling my inbox with love and support for the story and for me. You guys are the BEST. I’m forever grateful!

I hope you enjoy the 9K series finale. It’s been a slice!

Henry X Mistress Masterpost [x]

Henry's company held an office party to bid farewell the building that had brought them growth and success over the last few years. Once again expanding, the company added a brand new customer-relations department, a slew of employees fresh out of university and interns to fill in the gaps. The celebration took place on the evening of their last workday and boasted live entertainment and enough luxurious fare for each employee and their loved ones. They rented a bouncy castle and ball pit for the kids and set up an open bar next to two seminar tables' worth of catering.

It wasn't only a farewell party for the company, but the first time Henry showed off his girlfriend in front of his colleagues and employees. Word of Henry's divorce had already made its rounds, his colleagues begging for gory details after the documents were signed and filed. Rumours fluttered in and out of ears and mouths, but never while Henry was in the room—Henry had cheated on his wife with a coworker, Henry screwed the cleaning lady and his wife caught him in the act, Henry picked up a venereal disease, and poor Mary. The speculation rose tensions, but like all rumours, faded into irrelevancy once news of the company move surfaced. People forgot all about Henry's ugly divorce for the next round of gossip. Word of his mistress died down.

Although the tension had mostly evaporated, she felt eyes crawling on her when she showed up on Henry's arm. Of course, everyone recognized her—she was the secretary for a time, the only line to get an opening with Mr. Deaver. She had spent months parked next to his office, taking his appointments, booking his days, answering his phone. They remembered, and they leaned into the nearest ear to whisper, "I knew it all along."

If Henry noticed the curiosity, he chose to ignore it, but she couldn't. She felt every woman in the place wringing her silently, scrutinizing her moves, her hand in Henry's. People who knew Mary tended to side with the older woman, and the nattering reinstated in hushed exchanges. She was alone at the party save for Henry, but he could only guard her for so long before his colleagues whisked him into conversations littered with business jargon that lost her attention.

Still, she clung to his hand, and once in a while, Henry would break from stock discussions to turn in for a kiss. He surrounded her ears with his fingers, tilting her face up so he need not crouch just to show some affection. When he buried her mouth with his, she savoured the taste of wine, the power in becoming the first lady, the stares from Henry's subordinates.

Henry pulled back an inch, staring drunkenly, though he'd only had one glass of pinot noir, and nipped her bottom lip. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

"Sure. I love catching all the cattiest office workers glaring."

Henry smirked as though he too tasted a dollop of satisfaction from the envy. "You know what I say to that?"

"What?"

"Fuck them," Henry whispered.

She feigned a gasp, swatted his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. "Gosh, you look beautiful. I want to undress you later and do all the things they're thinking about me doing to you."

"My, my, Henry. You better take it easy on the vino."

"I'm not tipsy. I'm excited."

She checked his pockets for bulges, hoping Henry's intentions weren't to propose in front of all these near-strangers. The lines of his suit were smooth, and when she hugged him, she only felt his cellphone, wallet and keys, no ring box. She sighed with relief and sweltered under another one of his long kisses. He moaned against her, stroked her neck and back until she interrupted him to say, "Jesus, Henry. What's with the PDA?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care anymore. Let 'em look."

"Easy, tiger. You're the star of the show. People want to talk to you without lipstick all over your face."

"Mm, I'd fuck you right now if I could," said Henry.

She squeezed his shoulders, holding him off for a moment before he swooped in for another peck. "Okay, okay, I'm done. For now."

"Don't make me spank you when we get home," she warned, mouth curved in jest.

"I'll behave," he assured.

With children running about, the catering service making rounds in the nearly empty office space, more employees and their significant others piling in by the minute, it was easy to get lost in the bustle. Henry's colleagues whisked him away into a conversation she had no business understanding, leaving her stranded, drink in hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blouse to distract herself from her friendless reality. None of Henry's employees came to talk to her. She stood alone, a flag on a pole reminding everyone that Henry had upgraded in every way. Some people went by, nodding respectfully, while others bypassed her like a piece of furniture.

Just when she felt the pressure behind her eyes saying she was tired, Frank stepped out of the elevator with his wife and two boys. The children bolted for the bounce house, leaving their bickering parents in their dust. Frank travelled through the crowd rolling his eyes and sneering at his wife, who looked upset about something, but retracted her frown as soon as a colleague's wife greeted her. The loud businessman honed in on Henry, and she watched her helpless boyfriend go limp when the man slung his meaty arm around his shoulders, thumping his back with a ham hock fist.

She mused over Henry's embarrassment as Frank launched into a story designed specifically to draw attention to him in the worst way. Frank's baritone floated above the music, and soon, others gathered to listen to the man tell the story of how Henry got too wasted on sake on a business trip to Japan because he didn't want to seem rude to the host and didn't know how to decline.

"This fuckin' guy—pardon my French—is rolling on the floor in his hotel room, has ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs for the conference, but can't even hold his head up straight. How many did you have, Henry, seven? Eight?"

Henry blanched, shaking his head. "Eight, yeah, I think that's about right."

"You've never seen a guy so drunk in your life! He did the conference, slurring the entire time, stumbling over his shoes, but the folks loved it! Didn't they, Deaver? You really got their attention when you started hiccoughing between every word."

"Different times. We were younger. We were boys."

"Ah, yeah. Young and dumb. Now, look at you! Much older now and just as dumb, eh?"

The gaggle surrounding Henry burst into laughter and carried on as Frank surrendered his grip. She tried to picture Henry staggering, too drunk to string together a sentence, but couldn't imagine him as anything less than poised. The image reminded her of the conversation she had with Mary in the parking garage. Before the divorce had been finalized, Mary told her Henry had done questionable things abroad with his colleagues. Frank's story, although comical and meant as a harmless jab, filled her with suspicion.

Henry had denied the accusation that he cheated before that night he invited her up to his hotel room. With desperation on his face, he vowed on his love for her that he was never unfaithful, barring their affair. She believed him, with reluctance, and stowed it away in her mind with the rest of Mary's dubious claims. Now that stories of shenanigans and unprofessional conduct were in circulation, she tried not to let her suspicions gain traction.

The night played on, and as more of the families left to put their hyper children to bed, the heads of business brought out the top-shelf Scotch and sat around picking at sandwich trays and hors d'oeuvres. Frank caught Henry's assistant-turned-girlfriend in his cross-hairs and approached her with a drink in hand. Red-faced and loud as ever, Frank asked her why she wasn't enjoying herself.

She cleared her throat and offered her best smile. "I am having fun. I just don't have a rich enough history with the company to offer any entertaining stories."

"Oh, come now. You were Henry's assistant for months! You don't have anything to share about banging the boss?"

Frank's announcement only fell on her ears, but it was enough to make her blush and want to escape. He apologized and sidled up to her, clinking his whiskey tumbler with her wine glass.

"Gotta get you a refill, Whaddaya say, toots?"

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I offered to drive home."

"That's right. You two live together now in that little condo."

She blinked, unsure of how anyone might think of the condo as little, then realized she was standing among wealthy men whose homes spanned acres, who owned Summer cottages bigger than the average townhouse.

"I gotta say, Deaver's got that colour back in his face since he started on with you, doll. What do I gotta do to get me a woman like that? He's a whole new man. Is that all it takes is a nice, young honey to roll back the decades? I bet the old bastard gets it up just fine. Just fine."

"Thank you, Frank. I'll try to sift through that to find a compliment," she scoffed and sipped her wine.

"Aw, I mean it with love, darlin', you know that. Ol' Franky just talks, right? I don't mean any harm. Maybe I come from a place of envy, who knows? Not every day a dry old fella gets his hands on something pretty as you. I can see you're good for him. He sure smiles a helluva lot more! Christ, can't chisel the grin off that face. Loopy as a damn circus clown since you came around."

"Really?" She tittered.

"I'm serious. Shit, when Henry was with Mary, you couldn't pay the guy to crack a joke. Now, he's nothing like the shlub I met all those years ago."

She ran her finger along the glass rim as Frank droned on, her eyes on Henry across the room. He had been having a good time, his cheeks aglow with cheeriness. She'd never seen Henry interact with his coworkers for more than a quick trip in and out of the conference room to deliver him a printout or progress report. Tonight, Henry hadn't complained about people talking his ear off. Even after Frank's unflattering account of one of his rare blunders, he hadn't whined or wished they could sneak out unseen. Henry was at ease.

"He's planning on proposing to me soon," she said.

Frank cocked his head and rose his glass. "Here's to hoping he makes the right decision, and quick, before you realize you can do better!"

She clinked glasses with Frank once more, and while he drained his whiskey, she set her glass down on a table nearby.

"I was wondering what his coworkers might say about him remarrying."

"Anything to get him away from that soul-sucking ice queen of an ex-wife."

"Frank? Can I ask you something and get a sincere answer?"

Frank read her serious tone, shifted his brows and angled in, unaware of his alcohol-laden breath fanning over her face. "Anything, love. Franky tells no lies. That's what they say. With me, it's pure honesty."

"I heard a rumour about Henry in Thailand. Somebody said he cheated on Mary. Do you know anything about this? I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into, being young and all. I don't want to end up wasting my best years with a man who might cheat on me down the road."

Frank scoffed, slapped his leg and howled. She waited for him to wipe an invisible tear from his eye, hoping nobody asked what was so funny.

"Oh, doll. You can't believe all the rumours you hear in this place. Thailand... Shit, that was so long ago. I can hardly remember what happened. It's true, we did some partying, but when in Rome, right?"

She grimaced as Frank went on, "Ol' Deaver never left his hotel room on that trip. Me 'n a couple of our work buddies cruised around, got ourselves into a little trouble, but not Henry. He spent the whole week hunched over his laptop, putting last minute touches on some PowerPoint crap—never was good with computers, myself. And don't get me wrong, there were offers made during dinners—generous offers. You know the type. They like to show their hospitality. But Henry was the professional. We call him Dad since he's always keeping us in line. Even us old guys, eh? No, no... Company is rock solid 'cause of him. We told Deaver a million times to drop the ball 'n chain, but the kid stuck it out, he really did."

"Am I stupid to marry him?"

"Doll, I think if you want someone to treat you right, it's my man, Henry Deaver. The Kid can't contain himself. And who could? He's a lucky man, really fortunate to have a dish like you."

"Oh, stop," she gestured at the opposite corner of the cleared out office space where the wives gathered. "You know, if I marry Henry, I'll have to join the wives' club and stand over there with Phyllis and Dorothy."

Frank beamed at her. She decided not to loathe the man for his praise, both for her and Henry. He was a bumbling idiot at times and unfiltered, but she had seen much worse. Before the corporate job with all the nice clothes and gadgets she used to pine for while browsing fashion websites, she worked her food service job. With every type of asshole and gentleman coming through the hotel bar, Frank was the loudmouth who'd changed her mind on Henry Deaver.

"You're a different kind, ain'tcha? I bet Deaver has his hands full with you."

Warm, wine-drunk confidence slid off her tongue, "Oh, I keep him busy."

"I'll kill him if he doesn't marry you, kid."

"I'm sure you will."

"That's Frank's Guarantee."

She tipped glasses with him once more and excused herself to use the washroom. The night was drawing to a close, and she enjoyed the quiet of the bathroom and its 3 stalls. Many times she had retreated to the washroom to text Henry while he was in his office. She couldn't risk getting caught exchanging dirty messages with the boss, so when she wanted to make him blush, she snuck off to the lady's room. Many nude photoshoots happened in the safety of the last stall on the right, and all of them fed to Henry's phone at inopportune times—mostly during meetings or video calls with clients across the world. Now, she laid her head against the cool metal and thought of marrying Henry.

Back then, falling in love with him was forbidden, tingly, like a shot of alcohol at an inappropriate hour that she hoped nobody could smell on her breath. Now, it was pure. There were no more walls, no need to hide in the stall to talk to him. Henry was hers, and everyone knew it.

Henry waited for her by a stack of chairs. Behind him, the catering company was clearing away serving trays, stacking cups and folding tablecloths. The band had long since packed up, and anyone with children had taken them downstairs to the shuttles the company had arranged to drive them home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey, indeed. How're you doing? I thought I saw you getting along with Frank." Henry chuckled. "What was up with that? I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him. Maybe I wasn't keen on him hitting on me back at the hotel, but I think he's smartened up. As uncouth as he may be... He has your back and cares about the company."

"He's the drunk uncle of the business."

"You'll have to teach him some manners, though. One day, you'll have a female big-wig to schmooze, and she might not take kindly to pet names."

Henry's eyes bugged as he nodded. "Frank doesn't get to talk to the women in the industry, and don't worry, I'll whip him into shape."

"Hm, is that why they call you the company dad?" She asked, tracing one finger down Henry's lapel. "You just keep everyone in line, don't you? Lay down the law. Tell all those silly men how to act."

Henry shivered as her hand travelled lower, coasted over the front of his pants while nobody was looking. He puffed his chest, a crafty look taking over his visage. He snatched her wandering hand and stepped closer, eclipsing her as he slouched over to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm the Daddy around here."

"Is Daddy ready to head home soon?"

"Let's say our goodbyes, then we'll get out of here. Come on."

Henry gave her directions that took them in the opposite direction of home. When she questioned him, he patted her thigh, assuring there was a surprise waiting at the end of the line. She tried to pry it from him while they cruised the highway in the dark. The radio played low while Henry tried changing the subject.

"Where am I going?" She asked.

Henry pointed ahead. "Get off at the next exit."

The roads narrowed, and the street lamps spread farther apart outside of the city. She slowed the car, flipped on the high beams and guided Henry's BMW over gravel hills. There were houses along the quiet strip of country line, but they were hidden behind spruce and maple trees.

"Henry, we're so far from home. I'm tired. Please tell me what we're doing."

He pointed at a driveway tucked behind a line of birch and a dented metal mailbox standing crookedly on the side of the road. "Down there. It's close now, don't worry."

They curved through a loose gathering of evergreens and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house with a double garage and topiaries along the sides. The place was dark, but a motion light illuminated the paved driveway as she pulled up and parked. Henry pulled a set of keys from his pocket and exited the vehicle. He waited for her to catch up, breath turning to vapour in the crisp night air.

"Care to explain what we're doing at some random house?" She asked.

Henry took her hand and guided her toward the front door. In the dark, she sailed by the realtor's sign and stepped onto the first stone slab leading to the front door. She watched Henry fiddle with a key, shove it into the lock and turn the handle. The door opened with a whoosh, the scent of fresh paint and lacquered wood spilling out of the massive wooden door. Henry hit a switch, and fractals of light exploded from a chandelier on high in the foyer.

"Check this out. It's so open in the center, you could drive a truck through to the backyard. And the kitchen! Oh, you gotta see the kitchen. It's lovely," Henry said as he grabbed her hand and led her through the house. "All stainless steel and marble. The island is bigger than our bed! And come this way, down here."

They journeyed down an echoing hall, footsteps casting off the hardwood floors and glass light fixtures. Henry threw open a door and ushered her inside a furnished bedroom. A sleigh bed domineered the far end of the room, all dark wood, plush duvet and pillows.

"I know you're not keen on beige, which is fine. We'll paint it. But, look at this bed! And this window overlooks the backyard—Well, I wouldn't say 'yard.' It's more of a...field. Look, look, look!"

"Henry, what is this?" She asked, peering out the window at the blackness beyond the dim orange halo of the bedroom light.

When she turned back around, Henry placed his hands on her hips, excitement simmering. He smiled, wry and lustful, and bent down to kiss her.

"Isn't it obvious? This is our house."

"What are you saying?" She gasped. "You bought this place?"

"Mhm. I've had my eye on it for a long time."

"And just how long exactly were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Only until I bought it."

"Henry!"

He jingled the keys in his pocket. "Well, you can't just walk into a place that's not yours."

Suddenly, she realized Henry had put this in motion weeks before, masked it under the search for a new office building. Realtors had rung Henry's phone off the hook, and she had answered them all, oblivious to his underlying motive. When it clicked, she dropped her jaw and swatted him playfully.

"I can't believe you. Right under my nose!"

"It was good timing."

"But...why? What's wrong with the condo?"

Henry guided her to the room's centre beneath the carnival glass light fixture that had to go, along with the drab paint job. "Nothing is wrong with the condo. It's just not ours. There are too many memories preventing me from letting go of the past. I want to let it all go, but I can't when I look around and remember where I was just a year and a half ago. It served me well as a place to escape, but now, I don't need to hide. I want new memories. I want to walk outside with my coffee and see you in the backyard, doing whatever you want—gardening, reading, lounging. I want to pull up after a long day at work, see this place, and know that you're inside, all of our things, our memories, our smells."

"And what if I hate it?" She asked, stifling a giggle.

"Then I'll sell it, and we'll find a new place."

"I don't hate it, Henry, but...This was such a risk."

"It paid off. I knew you'd like it. It's the perfect combination of vintage and modern. The structure is old and strong, but the renovations give it that modern class. It's like that chalet we stayed at in Sweden. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We didn't leave bed for two days."

Henry smiled fondly at the memory and stroked her hair back, smiling with her in his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in a contented sigh.

"There are two offices, one for me and one for you. Two other bedrooms. One for guests and one for a kid."

She looked up at him, and all the playfulness fled from his eyes. He kissed her to avoid the inevitable questions. When will we see a doctor? What is the plan if we can't conceive? They didn't need answers, only trust that whatever battles stretched on, they would meet them hand-in-hand.

"I can't wait," she whispered. "I love you. And I love this house."

"There's one more thing," Henry cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "It's kind of important."

"What is it?"

"I'm old, babe."

"Henry, you're not that old."

"I'm an old man. I'm head of a multi-national company, y'know. I wear suits and talk to people who hemorrhage money day in and day out. I like to style myself as a professional."

She cocked her head, wondering where Henry was going with his monologue.

"It's awkward when people ask me about you, and I have to refer to you as my girlfriend. Guys like me aren't supposed to have girlfriends. It just sounds creepy. Plus, you're so much more to me than that. You're not my girlfriend; you're the love of my life. My soulmate. My queen. I want you to be my partner."

"Henry—"

He cut her off and fetched something from the table next to the bed. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room, he bent at the knee and presented her with the ring box she had already seen, yet she fluttered as though it was the first time.

"Baby... I could have flown you to a tropical island or put this in a glass of champagne. I could have done this in front of everyone at the party tonight, but all of that seemed silly. Don't get me wrong, I still want to take you to every corner of the world and give you all the nicest things, but I wanted to propose to you in our house, just you and me. So... Will you quit being my girlfriend and become my wife instead?"

Henry separated her ring finger from the rest and slid the band down to the knuckle as she blotted her sobs with the other hand, nodding and fighting joyful tears.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" She asked as he rose to his feet and clamped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"I know I'm clever! You thought I would propose to you in front of all those people? No way."

"You hate being the center of attention."

"That's right. And although I want to shout it from the rooftops, I thought you'd prefer me asking you to marry me someplace quiet."

She gazed at the stone glittering on her finger, and a fresh wash of tears wet her cheeks. "I'm marrying you... You're going to be my husband."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip fiance altogether and get right to the wife thing."

"You're my husband."

"You're my wife!"

"We're getting married!"

"That's right," Henry beamed. "And we move in next month."

Breathless, she ripped her eyes off the ring and looked up at the man who gave it to her. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into the column of his throat and breathed in the scent of old hotels, of pastry and coffee and drying ink on newspaper. She had a vision of him seated at a table across the room, smiling in her direction, tapping his silver pen on the spine of his planner. Two eyes, one green and one brown, drinking her in like fine wine, full of secrets and passion, indulgence and guilt. Her good Christian boy who was anything but pure or chaste.

"I'll worship you until I die, you know that, right?"

"Henry, I can't. You're making me cry. There's probably mascara all over my face!"

"I don't care," he pressed the words to her temple, swaying in languid step. "You'll never be rid of me. Think about that."

"I believe you, Henry."

His eyes flooded and no amount of squeezing suffocated the tears. The streams met the cuff of his suit jacket. He questioned why he still wore the suit and slipped out of it as her hand tugged his tie. Leash in hand, she pulled his face to her level and touched the tears coasting his cheeks, brushed her thumb over the scar two inches from the lips she kissed.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm telling you to shut up, Henry. Don't ask those kinds of questions."

"I just can't believe you're mine."

"That's right. So stop wondering if I'll change my mind. I've had many opportunities to reconsider. I stuck it out through times I should have walked out, and now we're standing in this gigantic house, and there's a ring on my finger... And you still think I'll back out?"

"I hope not. You're everything I've wanted my whole life. I have it all. Now I can spend the rest of it happy."

"I love you," she whispered against his bottom lip.

Henry crouched, circled her hips with his arms and carried her to the bed, murmuring, "I love you, too, baby. So much."

"Are we gonna fuck right here?"

"Right here, right now," said Henry, perching her on the bed so he could work open the buttons of his dress shirt. She lifted her legs, slipped off her heels, then wrestled her blouse off. The struggle to undress ended with their tops off, Henry standing with his knees pressed into the plush mattress, between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, nylon sighing between skin as he stroked.

"I didn't think I'd make it out of the office without fucking you. Gosh, you looked so good in that outfit. All those guys were looking at you... Especially when you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. That fabric stretching over your ass. You should've seen 'em staring."

"You think they're jealous of you?" She asked as Henry bunched her skirt around her hips, revealing satin and lace panties pasted to her crotch with arousal. His palm traversed her thigh, paused at the edge of the panties. He sent out two fingers to stroke the stitching along her groin, satin running like water across the tips. Henry wanted to take his time, but she was restless. He subdued her with a kiss.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm in control tonight, and I want to feel and lick and taste every inch of your body before I even get my pants off, understand?"

She returned his sly look and rolled onto her stomach, parting her legs so he could admire the shiny material ruched between her cheeks.

"To answer your question... Yes. Of course, they're jealous."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

Henry snickered, like a bully cornering his prey. "Those old bastards can't keep their mouths shut. Even when you were my employee, they'd hound me for details... Ask if you were single, if I was tapping you, if I'd thought about it. I'm not one to boast, but they all knew. Henry Deaver doesn't kiss and tell, but then you'd come in and smile at me like just an hour before I was balls-deep in your pussy... Like my cum was still dripping down your thigh. They knew. We weren't as covert as we thought."

"It's that naughty little smile of yours that gives it away. You flashed me that same smile a few times at the hotel, and I just thought maybe you didn't realize how seductive you looked. But you know, don't you? You know what you do to me. How hard you can make me with just one look."

Henry lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle as he squeezed the sole of her foot, admiring the coloured polish on her toenails peeking out of the semi-opaque stockings.

"I do enjoy getting you worked up, sir."

"Let's not tonight. I'm supposed to make love to you, not treat you like my office pet. I'm marrying you, for fuck's sake."

"Then make love to your future wife. That doesn't mean I can't be your slut anymore."

"Oh, my God," Henry growled.

"Look at what I'm wearing for you. I know how much you love the way my pussy looks wearing this fabric. Thigh-high stockings aren't practical, but I figured you might fuck me in your office one last time, and I wanted to torment you."

"Not so predictable now, huh?"

She simpered and ran her toe in a line down his chest and didn't stop until she grazed his belt buckle. "Yeah, and you've been thinking about filling me up all night."

Henry grasped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed to meet his groin. He gathered her up in his arms, pressing his entire weight on her frame as he kissed her desperately. When her legs grew weak, he clamped them around his hips and undulated. Hardness strained against her crotch, pulsing from the heat between her legs.

"You're right. I've been aching to fuck you. How long has it been? Gosh, this week has been so busy, I've hardly had any time alone with you. And you've been occupied with your new job. It's been a while since I've come."

She made a coo of sympathy. "Aw, my poor baby. You're probably so sensitive."

"I want you to do something for me," Henry muttered, adjusting his crotch, then giving up and undoing his belt and pants altogether. "I'd love it if you sucked my cock."

"Oh, Mr. Deaver asking for a blowjob? A rare sound to my ears."

He shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed to kneel on the floor. With feet spread wide, his fingers tangled in her hair, Henry waited for her to make the first move. His view of her from on high was angelic. In the prismatic light, her eyes twinkled, and he thought of whiskey in a glass, poured by a dangerous woman he'd grown to admire. She always wore a smile, but for the right person, that smile turned luscious and dim. Her eyes would relax on him, soothe him, delight if he made small conversation instead of only demands.

Henry did not demand, but as her smiling lips tightened around the midway-point of his cock and sank, he couldn't help aiding the way to her throat with one firm thrust. "Oh... Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he droned.

"You can use my mouth, sir."

"Just suck that dick like a good girl. Do your magic on me, baby."

With free reign, she slathered his shaft with her tongue, side-to-side, up and down. She met his eyes and smiled, the tip nestled between her puckered lips. Her grasp on the base sent waves of hot blood pumping through the veins, filling him out entirely.

"I can't wait to feel this big cock pumping my pussy full of cum."

"Oh, I know, baby. We'll get there. For now, I need your mouth. All over me, please. Balls too. Come on... Eat that cock, you hungry little slut."

She chased Henry up on the bed where she could kneel between his legs in comfort. Henry enjoyed the position, too—back against a mound of pillows, his long legs spread to the lower corners of the bed, her crumpled form nestled between his thighs while her lips and tongue worked in a circuit on his length. He leaned his head back, arms thrown over the pillows. In this position, Henry bucked his hips a few times to touch his tip to her tonsils. Each time she brought up a wave of saliva that coated him and made it easier for her to slide down.

"What about that ass, big boy?" She asked after popping up from a harsh series of head-bobbing. "I know how much you love it when I play with that pretty hole of yours."

Henry sucked air in through his teeth, chin dimpling and lashes fluttering. "Mmph, not tonight. I want that pussy. Yeah, I wanna taste you."

They flipped positions. Henry pulled her onto her back away and snatched one of the pillows to wedge under her tailbone. With both hands, he hooked the back of her knees and spread her thighs wide, elevating her pelvis until his breath stroked the front of her panties. Henry nipped the fabric, pulled it into a tent and let it snap back against her lips. He nuzzled it, faint stubble scratching the delicate fabric. She let out a gentle sigh, a whimper of lust. Henry kissed the satin once, twice harder, then a third time like he'd met her mouth in a fevered touch.

She watched his long fingers sneak the fabric away, how he made shapes with his mouth like he wanted to say something but lost his voice. Henry bit his lip, kissed where he knew her clit was hiding, then prodded her folds with a long lick. He repeated the motion on the right side, along her labia, and again on he left side.

For a while, he would only meet the crest of her entrance with light kisses and whispered promises.

"Do you like it when I tease your pussy? Giving you just enough to make you wet, but not as much as you need?"

"Henry, please," she begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please give me more!"

"More of this?" Henry asked, ghosting his breath over her clit.

"No more teasing."

"You sure?"

She clutched some of his hair and pouted. He chuckled, laid his cheek on her thigh and brought his hand up between her legs. "What if I'm not done teasing? What if I want to torment you a little longer?"

He spread open her lips, applying pressure on both sides. She could almost grind against his fingers if he didn't have her at his mercy, arched over a pillow, thighs splayed wide and vulnerable. Henry tapped her clit with three fingers, stippling with gooseflesh from the wet noises the pads made on her vulva. "Oh, I love that sound," he sang. "You're so wet for me."

"Please, sir. I need your mouth."

"Is that right? Well, you've been so good and helpful. I'm sure I can give you what you want... but you have to promise me something."

"Yes, yes, I will. Anything."

"Promise you'll tell me before you come?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you. Don't get too close. I have other plans for your pussy."

She groaned out loud, relieved when he finally licked her clit. His tongue was a warm blanket, weighted and placed perfectly on top. He undulated the muscle, coaxing out the sensitive parts for adoration. That's how she described his attention in her mind. When Henry ate her out, it was like he'd infiltrated her head and knew the precise amount of pressure, the proper motions, when to flicker his tongue and when to envelope her clit between his lips. He kissed, sucked, lapped and moaned like a symphony, only opening his eyes once in a while to catch her staring in awe between her legs.

"Mm, baby," Henry moaned against her slit. "I can feel you getting close already. Don't go over the edge."

"I'm sorry, you just look so good eating my pussy."

Henry pulled off her, smirking, letting her glimpse his full lips shining in their glory. She couldn't stop herself from lunging for him. The taste of her own fluid on his mouth set off a carnal urge to feel his cock too. She told him to fuck her hard, to spank her ass and make her squeal like a knifed animal. She wanted that deepness, the full stretch as his thighs bounced her up and down. They laid on their sides, and Henry entered her from behind, arm hooking her leg up so he could gaze over at her exposed breasts, her glistening clit forgotten for a moment too long. In his clutches, she was helpless, and Henry used his advantage to squeeze and rub her until more of her liquid soaked between their groins.

"Can you come like this?" Henry puffed next to her ear. "If I rub your clit like that and keep fucking you, can you come?"

"Yes," she peeped. "Yes, keep going."

"Yeah? Gonna come like a good girl all over this dick?"

Again, she nodded, biting down on her lip in concentration.

"'Cause I'm gonna shoot so much fucking cum inside you, but only after you get all tight around me."

She begged him not to stop, to never stop being hers. Henry rushed his movements until she bucked once, legs fighting to fold inward.

"Is that it? That spot right there?" Henry asked. "Keep rubbing you just like this?"

He didn't need an answer; it was written all over her flushed face, denting her lip where her teeth bore down. Henry exerted every inch of stamina he had in his body until her muscles seized hard enough to snap. Mewling as she came, Henry didn't stop pestering her clit with his fingertips or pull out after he emptied as deep inside as he could fit. He gathered her up in his arms, locking fingers and lips, breathing each other's air. Pieces of his hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead while he pulsed and shivered.

"I need you to get your panties on right away. We can't leave a mess behind."

"Are you serious?"

Henry nodded his head, unperturbed by the alarm in her tone. "Well, it's not our stuff. It's staging furniture. I just convinced the realtor to let me surprise you tonight. She probably didn't think I'd be fucking you in any of the bedrooms."

"Henry! I'm not sure where you slung my underwear."

He pushed into her one last time and grunted. "Aw, honey, mm. That's where my cum belongs."

"You're such a bad man," she giggled.

"I know I'm dirty."

"Come on, husband. Help me find my clothes. We should get back before we both fall asleep and someone finds us like this."

They gathered themselves, sighing and stretching the tension from their muscles as they dressed and took one more look around the property. She saw the house in a warm light now, as a place they could fill with memories, starting in the master bedroom where Henry proposed. He held her hand as they drove to the condo and flung themselves into bed, drained from the night's givings but wrapped in each other's arms.

The next morning, she woke to the smell of pancakes cooking on a griddle. Henry was up, two coffees deep, and buzzing from cupboard to cabinet, humming under his breath. He lit up when he caught her motion in the corner of his eye and went in for a long hug.

"Good morning, wife."

"Morning, husband," she replied, cheeks and chest prickling.

"Pancake buffet?" Henry gestured at the kitchen island.

"It's not even Christmas!"

Henry scoffed. "Who needs a special occasion to have a pancake buffet?

"I suppose I can't complain," she said.

She sat at the island, studying the foreign object around her ring finger every once in a while. When she made a fist or spread her hand, the rock sparkled and delighted her eyes. Henry caught her staring at the ring and smiling as he launched into the day's trajectory, his plan falling on deafened ears.

"Hello?" Henry waved the spatula. "Are you home?"

She sat up straight and folded her hands. "Yes. Sorry. I was distracted."

"I was saying I have to go into the office today, but only for an hour or two. Are you okay with hanging around here by yourself while I take the car? Can you believe the Beamer is still in the shop? They say take the damn thing into the dealership, we'll fix it up for free, but we'll keep it for half the week."

"Oh, well, I was supposed to pick up groceries, but I can wait."

Henry's eyebrows popped up. "Oh, no. No, no, honey. That's all right. I'll find another way there."

"Why don't I drive you to the office? Unless...You're not actually going to the office?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"I don't know...You could be exacting another one of your famous covert plans and covering it up by saying you're going to the office. How do I know?'

Henry tipped his head back and laughed as he tended the food sizzling on the stovetop. "Oh, sweetheart. No. I promise, no more tricks for a while."

"Sure," she said with a sly edge on her tongue.

"You can drop me off and take the car. It's nothing secretive, I swear."

Henry piled the last pancakes onto a plate, turned off the griddle and wiped the counter clear of flour and coconut flakes. They put together an extravagant array of dressed-up breakfast food, dousing their plates in maple syrup, chocolate chips and heart-shaped strawberries as they talked and sipped coffee. Henry sat across the island holding his hand out for her to touch every once in a while. He didn't need her to hold his hand, though, subconsciously, he always reached out for her in case she wanted to feel his skin.

The morning melted seamlessly into early afternoon, and the couple ventured from the condo after a quick round of energizing couch sex. Henry thumbed the ring on her finger as they walked onto the main floor from the elevator.

"Mr. Deaver and Madame, good morning!" Johnny, the concierge, greeted them.

Henry held up their conjoined hands. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Deaver from now on, Johnny."

The tall man behind the desk made a small gasp and bowed. "Apologies, Mr. and Mrs... Might I say congratulations to the happy couple?"

"You're the first to hear, officially," Henry said.

Johnny touched his enormous hand to his chest. "What an honour, sir. This position never loses its magic."

Henry twisted his mouth. "I have some other news, Johnny. My wife and I will be moving soon. We won't be seeing you every morning."

"Ah, that's all right, Mr. Deaver. Moving up and up, I hope?"

"Yes. It's a ranch house in the country. No neighbours."

"Beautiful. Well, I wish you both the very best and look forward to helping you out until moving day comes."

"Thanks, Johnny," she said with a smile.

Johnny rose his finger as they meant to leave. "One more thing. A package arrived for you, Mr. Deaver."

The concierge ducked under the desk with a set of keys and opened the security box dedicated to the Deaver property. He pulled out a bulging manila envelope and turned it over with a dutiful grin. When her eyes glanced at the writing on the front, a knot formed in her throat. Henry's name adorned the front in practiced, sweeping hand. Henry. Not Henry Deaver or Mr. Deaver. Just his name written in black ink with flourishes on the capital H and a hand-drawn filigree beneath. She watched his shoulders stiffen as he nodded to Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll see you later."

She followed Henry to the parking garage, staring at the envelope in his hands. Henry looked ahead, his bright demeanour trampled upon by the object he carried. When they got into the vehicle, they looked at each other, then down at the package.

"What is that?" She asked.

"I think it's from Mary. That's her handwriting."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, but it had doubled in size and refused to budge. "What now? She's not supposed to bother us anymore."

"I know," Henry breathed. "I can't... You open it."

She tore into the envelope and pulled out a letter accompanied by a DVD in a flat jewel case and photocopies of ruled paper scrawled with notes. Henry nodded at the letter, signalling her to read it aloud.

"Dear Henry... I know there's little chance of getting a private audience with you now that we're legally separated, and the company is in the process of moving. You probably have your hands full and do not wish to hear from me either way. I understand your need to stay away, hence the letter and no phone call. What needs to be said cannot be summed up in a brief call, so I will try to keep this to a few pages.

I wanted to start off by apologizing. It's too late for apologies, and you must think I'm off my rocker to have even considered coming to you with this. Still, I'm not looking for acceptance, sympathy or anything but the need to fill you in on the blank spaces that must have driven you crazy over the last couple of years. The way I scorned you was wrong. A wife should respect her husband in all forms, and answer to him when he calls. I ignored you and purposely drove a wedge between us in order to distance myself from you and our collective failure.

By now, I'm sure your new girlfriend told you what I told her. It should come as no surprise that when I say "failure," I mean our inability to have a child.

When I received the news, and you were nowhere to be found, I felt the clutches of the Devil himself reaching for me. God does not make mistakes, which is how I know we were being punished for our sins, and since the results indicated you were the weaker factor, I can only assume the punishment was meant for you, and by extension, me. I know you have berated me in the past for my strong beliefs, but I cannot compromise my relationship with God for anyone's comfort. I know in my heart, his word is law, and if we couldn't produce a child, lying together would be straying down the path of temptation.

There were things you wanted me to do that I could not, in good conscience, provide for you—sex acts no married couple should have an interest in performing. If I'd have known of your devious tastes early on in our relationship, perhaps I wouldn't have married you. You resisted His word and acted on selfish impulse, spoke of wicked things with your colleagues, and Lord knows what other things I didn't catch wind of. I had to escape your sin yet remain your wife through the bad and the worse, as I pledged before God until death.

I do not judge you, as you are no longer my husband, and I know God will assess your choices in his divine eye. I don't have to worry about the unclean thoughts that live inside of you—they have no power over me; they aren't a reflection of my heavenly worth. If anything, I hope you are happy and have all the freedom one who strays from God can expect to have in this world. I pray for your soul each night and hope you do not meet the eternal fires.

I should have told you, but I was stricken with unbearable grief. I hated you. I fell out of love. I can't describe how, but I felt if I touched you, knowing what I knew then, God would punish me. Please understand everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord and with concern for my immortal soul. Call me selfish. I was and am, to this day, a selfish woman. But you were good to me, up until a certain point.

I cannot forgive your infidelity and can only pray you to seek repentance for your sin, though I will admit I did not care to make it right at the time. My silence was meant as punishment, but only God can dole penance, and in shutting you out, I acted in his name when I shouldn't have. I will spend the rest of my days begging His forgiveness and praying for you, Henry.

This package includes the evidence I've compiled of your cheating. You should know now I no longer seek vengeance. I simply want to scrub my life of all traces of you, and figured you might want to gaze upon your transgressions. Or throw them out. It's up to you now. Sincerely, Mary."

Henry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the contents of the letter. She found a pamphlet for the Evangelist Church of God among the pages and scowled.

"Wow, religion really makes people say some crazy stuff," she muttered, hoping to get a sound out of her fiance. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He motioned for the letter and gave it a half-hearted scan before crumpling it in his fist.

"Fuck that woman. Fuck that life."

"Sounds like a story."

He puffed, scoffed, burned a hole into the letter written in Mary's graceful hand.

"But you don't have to tell me."

"She's right," Henry said. "I was different back then."

"I know you were."

"How come you've never asked?"

His question nipped the skin on the back of her arms. "The same reason I don't ask other people about their religion. That's their business. You were raised a certain way, but you changed. I know you were put in a cage, Henry. You made a mistake, but it's not the eternal damnation Mary says. Your marriage was practically over. Unless... You cheated before us?"

Henry whipped a look at her, gaping and wordless. She shrugged as a platitude and coughed over a laugh. "Well? How can I not suspect? Mary says you cheated, Frank says you didn't, but I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Henry!"

"Look, I know!" Henry barked, and she pressed her back to the door. "You've gotta believe me, sweetheart. I'm trying to prove to you every day that I'm not this monster she wants me to be!"

"What's on these discs? They don't have labels. Am I going to watch this and find out something you don't want me to?"

His jaw set like he was about to explode. Air escaped his nostrils, and he glared forth at the wet cement wall beyond the hood of her car. Above, the building's pressure crushed out all sound, and Henry became aware of his breath, the tension in his windpipe.

"No. I don't know. I have no idea what's on those DVDs. If she got her private investigator to film me, it's probably just you and I making out in the car. What would be incriminating about that?"

"Did you lie to me that night in Paris?"

A dissonant, heavy silence fell over the man in the driver's seat. His skin turned sallow, and her eyes eclipsed to see the sickly guilt on his face.

"That night, you told me you left her. You said you asked for the divorce, and she just gave up. Was that a lie? Did you say that just to get me to go?"

Condemned by another bout of silence, Henry hid the colour of his ears behind hunched shoulders. "Baby, I was in love. I am in love with you. It's only ever been you! I needed you with me so bad. She knew we were done. She knew it. Divorce was not a foreign word."

"Just tell me straight. Did you put it in stone that night? When you flew me ten hours to Paris to be with you?"

"No. I didn't. I went home, said goodbye to her, she gave me the cold shoulder, I cursed, and she got angry with me. I told her I was finished, and then I left. Maybe I didn't flat out say I want a divorce, but it was implied."

"I'm curious to see what's on these discs," she said.

"Sweetheart, I will watch them with you, totally confident there's no evidence of me with any other woman."

"Good," she nodded. "Because you're mine. Maybe I'm the bad one for not caring. If you're bad, I'm worse. I don't give a fuck about you cheating on her, and this is the first time I've ever admitted it out loud. You're mine, Henry. You belong to me. She knew what she had and uses faith as an excuse for hiding a horrible secret from you!"

"Good Lord, I don't want to cry about this again," said Henry.

"Fuck it, Henry, just like you said. Fuck her and fuck the life you had. Your ass is mine now," she stuck her ring finger in the air. "Like, forever."

Henry pouted and melted into her lap. She quickly ran her hands through his hair as he moaned against her knee. "But what about our family?"

"We'll figure it out, babe. I promise. Until then, just keep shooting loads inside of me, and we'll see what happens."

He burst with laughter and lifted his rosy face to kiss her. "That's such a you thing to say in a time of crisis."

"I told you last night and back at the hotel... I'm with you. I'll back you in everything you do and make sure not a day goes by you wish you were somewhere else."

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, sweetheart. Goddamn it, I love you... Wifey," he giggled.

"But how hot would it be to have sex while watching DVDs of us hooking up in the Beamer and touching on patios and shit?"

"So hot. I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded it is very fucking hot."

"All right, hubby. Let's put this shit behind us forever and get busy getting married and having babies. We have places to go!"

"Yeah," Henry grabbed her hand and nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

#henry deaver x mistress #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #castle rock fanfiction #henry deaver

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pinkjeanist · 5 years ago

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“dreamer.” || shouto todoroki

desc.: When Shouto is denied a seat on the mission to walk the new world, he finds himself in need of your company. He doesn’t have to ask for you to oblige. [futuristic/space travel au - 1k words]

a/n: i just really like space [navigation] [dreamer.]

“Mind if I sit?”

Shouto turned around from where he sat on the platform overlooking the planet below, his figure framed only by the lights emitted from the control panels around the bridge. You saw him nod, and came to sit next to him in front of the pilots’ stations, tucking your knees close to your chest. He held out his bowl of cold noodles. You shook your head.

“Eleven hours until the mission starts,” You said, not knowing if there was anything else you could say with the severity of the situation. It was weighing on everyone’s minds from the bridge where you were currently sitting, clear to the deepest corners of the engine rooms. Even with all the work to be done in the labs, you couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Shouto- stationed only aboard, bombarded with questions and expectations being the captain’s son (as if he and his dad even talked, anymore).

Shouto shifted restlessly next to you. He finished the last few noodles in the bowl before muttering, “I should be going down there.”

“I know,” You whispered back. You put a gentle hand on his arm, and he slid closer until his thigh pressed against yours. He still smelled like the last experiment you’d been working on in the labs. It wasn’t the most pleasant scent, but you could still smell his cologne underneath. That was enough to get your shoulders to fall and your breathing to steady. “He shouldn’t keep you up here like this.”

“I spent my whole life wanting to go on that space walk, and he keeps me up here for my “safety.” Fucking cheap.”

“It’s unfair,” You agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. His entire body was tense beside you. After a moment of consideration, you said, “Maybe you can get an audience with the admiral?”

He just nearly scoffed. “As if.”

“I mean it,” You said, turning your head towards his ear. “Admiral Yagi knows you. You can probably get a request sent back home through Lieutenant Hawks. He isn’t a snitch.”

“It’ll all come down to the captain’s decision, anyway. He’s never listened before. There’s no point.” You sighed through your nose and laced your fingers through his.

“Well, if we can’t do anything about that, maybe we can do something else?” You suggested. He hummed. “All of the samples they’re gonna bring back are going straight to the labs. If you can’t go down there, maybe you can at least have a part of that world for yourself? No memories needed.”

“Are you suggesting I commit theft against earthbound, Japanese law just for the aesthetic?” He smirked.

“I mean. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that your assumption may or may not be somewhat partially correct.” You smiled, and he laughed. It was a heavenly sound that didn’t grace your presence much anymore. It sent a warmth to your belly, as if it was the blossoming of your relationship all over again. But your own feelings aside, you hoped some good ol’ fashion near-treason might make Shouto feel a bit better.

You eyed the empty bowl in his other hand that wasn’t holding your own. “Were the noodles any good?”

“Well. They were definitely boring, but they were noodles. I think.”

“There wasn’t any sauce or anything?”

“Someone at HQ decided it would be nice to gift their cadets with the occasional noodles and didn’t think of sending any special sauces with it, so no. I’m cursed with carbs and carbs only.”

“Maybe they just like plain noodles at HQ.”

“Name one person you know who indulges themselves in plain noodles.”

“I mean, sometimes back home, I would take a couple noodles from the strainer before I put them with the rest of the dish. You know, for the flavor.”

“Yeah, but would you honestly sit there and eat the entire strainer of noodles?”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” You both laughed again, gazing out the window. It was still nighttime on this side of the planet, and luckily for the crew, it was currently the nightly-portion of the daytime cycle, which meant that you should both be asleep, but instead you were trespassing. You weren’t even supposed to be on the bridge in the first place, no matter the time of cycle. It didn’t really matter much to you then, though. He didn’t seem to care either. You’d spare some regret if you got caught.

You sighed. “But besides noodles, I think this view is a whole lot to take with you, isn’t it? Being on a planet’s surface is overrated.” You pointed to a glowing, azure area in the middle of one of the smaller oceans below. “Just look at that. You can’t see that shit from the ground. Uraraka said it’s a huge pool of radioactive alien algae. It’s pretty sick.”

He hummed in reply. You squeezed his hand. “That is pretty sick.”

“Too bad we can’t get a sample,” You pouted.

“Why not?”

“Oh. She said it would probably melt our faces off if we got within five miles of the outskirts. I wanna steal shit from the lab, but I’d rather not die and melt everyone aboard while doing it. Well. Maybe I wanna melt Mineta, but I really like some of our other coworkers, you know?” He smiled with a small nod.

After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Thanks for coming to sit with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d sit here with you forever if your dad wouldn’t boot us into the endless vacuum of space for trespassing on his bridge in a few hours.” You both smiled again, and you pressed yourself closer to his arm in an almost-hug. “Just don’t try to take all this weight on your own. I’m always here for you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss into your hair. You melted under it. “It means worlds to me.”

“A philosopher once asked, ‘Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?’ Pointless, really...’Do the stars gaze back?’ Now, that's a question.”

- Neil Gaiman, “Stardust”

TAGLIST: @keigos-dove @knifeewifee @hanniejji @katsukis-sad-angel @wesparklebitch @bvnnyclouds

- dm/inbox to be added/removed from a taglist.

#shouto todoroki #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #bnhabookclub #space travel #space exploration #space au

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pcprminibigbang · 4 years ago

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PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to [email protected]! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

#polygon #polygon cyberpunk red #pcpr

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one-leaf-grimoire · 5 years ago

Text

“a deer in the crosshairs” (1/??)

Welcome! I love pain! That’s why I’m publishing the first two chapters of my long-awaited Grey Deer fic right now. Enjoy, and please give me some feedback through inbox/comments, I really need it so I know what I need to improve. Thanks!

Synopsis: After a traumatic attack, a member of the Grey Deer realizes that someone on her own squad is out to get her. Out of all the people she considers her friends and comrades, two of them committed a brutal crime, leaving her in a paranoid, frightened state. Why would they do this? Why her? What is going to happen now? Among all the fear, she knows there's at least one person she can trust: her very own Vice Captain, Julius.

The Clover Kingdom is known for its balmy summers, temperate falls, and forgiving winters. I just so happened to be born in the dead center of one of those winters, on the coldest, most unforgiving night of that year. It wasn't like that made a difference, though. My mother was warm and well-cared for within our large house, heated by mountains of blankets and a crackling fireplace. She was the daughter of a wealthy landlord, and my father was born into nobility. We had it about as good as it could get.

When I was five years old, my parents took me to visit the castle for the first time. I had no idea what was going on, but it was fun to dress up in a frilly dress and be doted on by servants. We met an important-looking man and his family, which included a boy maybe 4 or 5 years older than I am. He had dark hair slicked back into a little bun, and two cold grey eyes that I could never bring myself to look into very deeply.

"So, did you like Prince Lawrence?" my mother asked me on the way home, palpable excitement in her voice. I just nodded a little as I sucked on a lollipop my father gave me to keep me occupied. The truth was, I had said maybe 2 words to the boy before avoiding him the entire time. However, my mother was pleased. "Good! It's very important that the two of you get along."

I didn't know it at the time, but as far as nobles went, we were on thin ice. My mother's once-wealthy father went out of business shortly before his death, and my father's family told him he was a disgrace for marrying into an unstable financial situation. I don't blame them for choosing the one viable way out of their situation... even if that solution ended up being none other than little ol' me.

What was the solution, you ask?

I was to marry into the Kira family.

Lawrence Kira was a distant cousin of the king, but he was close enough to royalty that it would have us set for life. Back then, I didn't really care. It was decided long before I started to care. I was supposed to marry him when I turned 18, but that plan was postponed when I let my friend Alice convince me to take the Magic Knights Exam. I didn't really know what to expect, but my magic is as potent as it gets, despite being a "cut-rate noble," as some people called us. Lucky for me, a few captains raised their hands, and I chose the one I knew was the best.

And so, seven years later, here I am, celebrating the coming of the new year with the Grey Deer.

"Hey, you, refill my mug, will'ya!?"

I quickly push away the empty mug that's shoved into my face. "Ah, no, I'm not your servant, Nigel," I tell the boy. "I'm older than you, anyway!"

Nigel sticks out his tongue but doesn't push the subject, mostly because he's barely conscious right now as it is. Everyone's been drinking all night, but Nigel obviously doesn't hold his beer so well.

"Aww, we got a little baby, don't we!" Two of the older knights, Margery and Wren, walk over to flank the boy, who looks between them a few times. "You're 20 aren't you? I could down 20 beers in a row when I was 16!" Margery cackles cruelly. She's a beautiful woman who's usually nicer than this, but tonight seems to be making her rowdy.

"Margery, be nice," I scold lightly, being careful not to sound impertinent. She's several ranks above me, after all. However, the liquid courage is going straight to my head. "Not everyone was an alcoholic at 16!"

Wren's bloodshot eyes widen while Margery's face contorts into an over-exaggerated expression of rage. "Are you trying to insult me?!" she screeches, grabbing the collar of my cloak. I know better than to resist as she pulls me so close that she practically spits on me. "Another word, and I'll shove a thousand pearls up your little-"

"Ooh, you're gonna fight?" a booming voice calls. We both look over to see none other than Captain Hervey himself addressing us from the head of the table, sipping wine from a goblet. He's a tall man with blonde hair that spirals up in three big spikes, and a goatee that he never stops toying with. He's got a rather boorish personality, and can be accidentally mean without realizing it. It's not his fault; he's just really good an unintentionally hurting people's feelings. "Everyone, the showdown is finally happening!"

A few people hoot and holler at the announcement. We're a squad of sixteen people, yet we make this room feel like it's thronged with a huge crowd. The Grey Deer are known for their efficiency and elegance in battle, but when we're drunk we resemble the Crimson Lion Kings very closely. Sixteen people, yet not everyone is here. My friend Alice is off on patrol by herself tonight and visiting her elderly mother, so she isn't here to join in with the festivities. So, we're fifteen members tonight...

Wait. There's only 14 people here. Who's missing, other than Alice?

"Are you even listening to me?!"

I'm shaken (literally) from my thoughts by Margery and snap back to attention. "I'm your senior, and I'll fight you right now to prove it!"

"Ah! Actually, I'd rather not!" I hold up my hands to plead with her. "I don't want to use my magic inside!"

Margery practically growls like a feral animal. "Then... let's go outside!"

"Are you crazy? It's snowing cats and dogs out there," Giles, a knight who's my age and joined at the same time as me, observes. Out of the trio of me, Alice, and Giles, he's usually the more logical one. "Just settle it some other time."

It's not worth pursuing any longer, so Margery finally lets me go. "You're on thin fucking ice-" she warns me before returning to her seat. I sigh and shake my head. She's not going to remember any of this tomorrow morning anyway.

Giles sighs and takes another bite of his food. There's more than usual tonight, since it's a rare holiday and all. "How much longer until midnight?"

"Another hour." Elia, my roommate, yawns a little, gazing over at me from across the table with tired eyes. "I don't think I'm going to last that long."

"You have to! It's New Years!" Nigel insists, giggling as if he just told us the funniest joke the world has ever heard (news flash: he has not done such a thing). "It's the only time of year we can slack off like this."

"Ooh, that reminds me..." I wince before looking back up at the head of the table. The seven senior knights and the captain reserve that section for themselves, then the intermediate knights like myself get the middle section. At the opposite end is the "kids area," for all the junior knights. We have four of them right now, two of them being brand new recruits. "Captain, do we have to work tomorrow?"

"Ah... I guess you have to." There's a loud groan from all parts of the table at this news, and Hervey slams his goblet on the table loudly. "BUT! You didn't let me finish!" he roars. "You don't have to get up until 10, how's that?!" He smirks to himself as we all agree, of course.

"Hey... let's do a game..." Nigel slurs, resting his chin on his elbow. "I'm bored."

"Fine. What game?" Giles actually looks pretty excited for once, and catches the attention of me and Elia.

Nigel grins and straightens up, holding up his hand with all five fingers up. "Never have I ever... made eyes at Vice Captain Malota."

"Oh, ewww!" We look over to see Wren wrinkling his nose. "No offense, but she has a stick up her butt all the time." Malota is a little older, but she's still pretty, with long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Her face is very angular like a vulture, but... a sexy vulture. But Wren is right; she's a very capable woman, but she has a weird personality.

"... you got me." Giles blushes behind his glasses and puts a finger down. Both Nigel and Wren giggle at him. "Stop it! I'm sure you're crushing on someone here!"

"Me? I would never stoop that low," Wren shoots back. "Okay, okay, I got one... never have I ever broken a bone!"

Everyone whines at the question, because of course that's happened to everyone. Everyone but Wren, apparently. He gloats to himself as we're all forced to lower a finger. "Who's next?"

"I'll go!" Elia pipes up, which is a little surprising because she's never the one to put herself out there. "Never have I ever..." She grins evilly. "Had SEX."

"oh, EW!" All the boys chorus at once, going red in the face at the sheer audacity. "Of ALL the immature things you could have said!" Wren objects, but puts a finger down anyway (not gonna lie... I'm kind of surprised to hear that he isn't still a virgin at 25 years old). Elia just giggles and looks pointedly at the rest of us. Nigel shrugs and puts a finger down, Giles blushes and keeps his up, and I, too, am forced to put it down, which throws Wren into outrage once again. "WHAT?! YOU? Y-You had, you did the-"

"Yes, obviously," I snap, wishing we could just get to the next question already. "What's the big deal?"

"Aren't you engaged?" Giles asks curiously.

"First of all, that's none of your business, second of all..." I cross my arms. "Yes, I'm engaged... who do you think I did it with, dummy?"

A collective "oh" moves through our group. "That makes sense, I guess..." Wren shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at me. "Whore!"

"Shut up."

"OI! I just realized something!" Our attentions are pulled back to the head of the table, where Hervey is scowling at the empty seat to his right. "Julius... he went out for air two hours ago and still hasn't come back!!"

"What, you think he died or something?" Wren asks, shaking his head. "He's probably just got tired of us."

"Unacceptable! It's almost midnight, and my new vice captain isn't even here!?" Hervey growls. "Someone go out and get him... YOU!" I jump with fear as he points a hairy finger right at me. "Go get him! Actually, lure him in with a warm drink! It can't be fun being out in the blizzard all alone!"

I want to ask why me, but when the captain tells you to do something, you do it. So, reluctantly, I stand up and walk off into the kitchen, letting the sounds of the party get muffled by the door. The counters are strewn with empty bottles and kegs, with only a few full ones left. The only warm drink available right now are the dregs of the mulled wine from the pot, so I carefully scoop some out into a mug. It feels good as I clutch it in my hands and steel myself for the trip outside.

Julius was made vice captain just a couple days ago, chosen to serve next to Hervey and Malota. His personality is 100 times more bearable than either of them, but there's no denying that everyone in the squad is just a tad bit... scared of him. He's been around since I first joined, but we never really talked or ended up doing missions together until recently. In terms of ability, he's leaps and bounds ahead of everyone. But at the same time, he's not really close to anyone. Julius is the type of guy who gets along with everyone on the squad, no matter how volatile their personalities seem to be, but his only real friend seems to be the senior knight Elger, who keeps to himself as well. Sometimes, it feels like he just... operates on a completely different plane of reality than the rest of us.

Giles was right, it is snowing like it's never snowed before. I think briefly about the stories my parents told me about my own birth, how the wind rattled the windows and blanketed the earth in snow. I wonder if there's a baby being born somewhere tonight, under those same conditions.

The wind blows my cape around, and my uniform does little to shelter my body from the freezing fingers of the cold. My teeth are chattering and the only warmth comes from the mug in my hands. If I don't see him in five minutes, I'm drinking this myself! I think bitterly to myself, trudging around the perimeter of our base. It's not even easy to see, with the dim light of the moon shadowed by gales of snow. Maybe Julius didn't even go outside? Maybe he went back to his room because he was tired? That's what I would have done.

In one last attempt to find him, I call out his name. "Julius! Julius!?"

There's no way he can hear me, I think, shaking my head a little. Admittedly, I'm pretty eager to get back inside. If he's actually out here, he can take care of himself-

"Hello? Who's there?"

Shit. I let out a sigh before turning back around, and finally spot a figure walking towards me in the dark. Tall, blonde, handsome, with a smile that puts everyone around him at ease. Sure enough, it's Julius, who looks largely unaffected by the blizzard around him, albeit confused as to why I ventured out to find him. "What brings you out here on this lovely evening?"

"Ha ha, very funny." I'm not really in the mood for a cheeky joke right now. "We noticed you were gone, so I brought something out to warm you up." I hold out the mug, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his face. "Why're you out here all alone, anyway?"

"Oh? Thank you! I was feeling a bit chilly, anyway," Julius thanks me with a kind smile as he takes the mug. A bit chilly!? It's freezing! "I was... I don't know. I guess I just felt like taking a walk, and forgot about the party." He takes a sip of the drink, his eyes glancing over at the warm light pouring from the base's windows.

"You forgot?" I repeat, wondering what he was really thinking. "Well, I was told to bring you back inside, it's almost midnight, you know. I don't really feel like going back empty-handed."

"Is it?" Julius peers down at me and lets out a soft laugh, which I don't really appreciate. "I'm sorry to disappoint... but I think I'll stay out a bit longer. Don't worry about me..." For the first time, his smile fades, and something pools in his eyes as he looks away into the darkness.

"I have... a lot to think about."

I like to think that I'm a very observant person. My magic is illusion magic, which gives me the power to conjure images and scenes within the minds of others. But to effectively fight an enemy, I have to be able to glean information about them just from the surface. The way they move, the way they fight, the way they talk... but most importantly, I have to look into their eyes. Only then can I see their souls, and then I know how I can beat them.

Julius, a powerful, dependable man, is still just like everyone else. And the moment I search him for the first time, I can tell that something is wrong. Not only that, but he has the distinct look of someone in mourning. A lot to think about? I wonder if it was a family member... or maybe a friend. Either way, it's probably best to leave him alone. I'm sure he'll find peace somehow.

"You don't have to stay out here, you know." I snap out of my thoughts to see that he's talking to me again, his smile returned. "I'll be okay."

"...are you sure?" I know it's not my place to push the subject, but for some reason I feel a bit worried about him. Me? Worried about him? It was strange, but true. I know I should leave, but part of me feels like I need to stay. "I-I mean, I don't know, I wasn't having much fun anyways," I correct myself, looking away and crossing my arms. "And I told you, I'm not going back empty handed. If you're out here because something's troubling you... then maybe you should get it off your chest, feel better, then come back inside!"

...

Did those words really just come out of my mouth?! I'm talking to the vice captain! Jeez, and I sounded so demanding too, of all the insensitive things I could have said! What should I do? Run back inside? No... I'll run into the forest. Maybe I'll even freeze to death, or get eaten by a wild animal! It would be better than this embarrassment. Oh god, now what-

"My, you could really tell all that from just looking at me? It's amazing how magic can hone other skills... alright then. If you're fine with the cold, let's walk."

... oh? I'm not in trouble? Miraculously, Julius even looks slightly amused as he gestures at me, frozen in place in the snow. "Come on! I'm not going to bite."

"...alright." I shake my head a little before trudging up to his side. Maybe I should have just gone inside when I had the chance. Now I'm stuck out here... I glance over at Julius to see that he has a more neutral expression as we walk, his eyes fixed on the snowy path ahead. "So... what's been going on?"

Julius lets out one breath, letting it fog in the air in front of him. "A friend of mine died... to put it simply."

That's what I thought, I think to myself. "I'm sorry to hear that. It was recent?"

"Yeah... well, about a month ago." Julius shakes his head a little, the wound obviously still fresh in his heart. "He was a magic knight, too, in the Purple Orcas."

I didn't know anyone from the other squads, so it's surprising to hear that Julius had a friend from the Purple Orcas. "... I'm sure he was a great magic knight, if you were friends with him."

That catches Julius's attention for a split second, and I notice his lips try to twitch back into a smile. "Oh? That's quite the compliment." He gives me a pointed look which I quickly avoid. "But yeah, he was probably the best magic knight I've ever met."

He slows to a stop, letting out another long sigh. "Look, the storm is clearing a little."

Indeed, the snow wasn't swirling around as violently as before, and the wind doesn't sting at my skin. In fact, we could see a couple stars in the sky, their light piercing through.

"...I guess life is just cruel. It takes away the best people and leaves the rest of us to kill each other."

The sentiment is startling to hear, especially from such a mild-mannered man. It's a sign that, for the past month, Julius has been silently suffering, waiting for his peace to come.

Life is cruel... but our fates aren't absolute. I know that better than anyone. I'm in the process of destroying my fate, after all.

I don't really know what to say to that, and Julius quickly picks up on the growing awkwardness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as angry at you-" He looks over at me and cuts himself off. "You okay? You're practically turning blue!"

"H-Huh?" To my horror, I barely feel my lips as I talk. I look down to see that the hands I've been hugging close to my body are shaking violently, and going numb as well. Shit! I didn't realize how cold I was getting, maybe I should-

"Here." I look up to see Julius starting to pull his cloak over his head. "Put this on, it's still warm from my body."

Still warm from my body.

I draw in a startled gasp and step away three times quickly, stuttering out something incomprehensible. "Ah- uh- n-no thanks! It's ab-bout time I g-g-go inside anyway!"

At least my face is warm now. Julius realizes his mistake and opens his mouth awkwardly, retracting his offer. "Oh... sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it's fine!" I manage to compose myself and give him a shaky thumbs up. "Are you coming in or not?"

"I think I'll stay out a little longer." He relaxes and even gives me a smile after he pulls the cloak back on. "You were right... I feel a little better."

Well, at least this trip into the blizzard wasn't all for nothing. "I'm glad to hear it... See you later."

With that, I turn away and head back inside to join the others as they countdown into the new year, while Julius stays out to weather the storm just a little bit longer.

...

Read chapter two on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319412/chapters/64089274#workskin

#julius novachrono #julius novachrono x reader #grey deer fic #black clover #writing #fic #uh oh here we go #why do I keep starting these fics #I have no self control #Enjoy it

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beatlevmania · 6 years ago

Text

Geo x female! reader- He’s In Love With Me

Request: hey, it's me! so, i can i request a geo x me (like based on what i told u for the ship) with these prompts: 14.“Your laugh is so adorable.” 22.“Scoot over. I wanna sit next to you.” 24.“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 38.“You’re such a nerd.” (piano nerd) 63.“I think your hair looks just fine.” 90.“Would it be okay if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you…”(maybe like in the studio & also like the rest of the boys teasing him for being cute?) ok thanks

A/n: hey bff! sorry this took absolutely forever to get to! hope you like it love @givemequeen

“Your laugh is so adorable”

“Scoot over, I wanna sit next to you”

“Take a picture, it will last longer”

“You’re such a nerd”

“I think your hair looks just fine” “Would it be ok if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you”

__ __

You looked up from your book as you heard the final strum of guitar in the studio.

“Great work, boys, let’s take a break and come back in a few,” you heard their producer, George Martin, say over the microphone in the studio, the boys rustling around to leave the studio.

They entered the break room, greeting you and kissing you on the cheek.

“Hey, (y/n), didn’t know you’d be here today,” Paul pecked you on the cheek, then headed over to fix himself a tea.

George, your boyfriend, also headed towards you, kissing you sweetly on the lips. ��Hi, my love. Scoot over, I wanna sit next to you,” he said as you moved your book from the couch and adjusted yourself so that there was room for him on the couch.

“Thanks,” he responded, collapsing next to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Ugh, (y/n), I’m going insane. These lads are killing me,” he sighed, watching John and Paul threaten to pour their teas on each other. “Take me home, please,” he mockingly joked, snuggling closer to you.

“No, Geo, you have to stay until the end of the session,” you joked back, stroking his shoulder. “You just gotta get it done,”

“No! You wouldn’t leave me here!” George laughed, grabbing you around the waist and holding you captive, messing with your hair.

“George! George!” you exclaimed, trying to fight him off of you, cracking up in the process. He finally let go, letting you collapse on the opposite end of the couch, panting with laughter.

“Oh, Harrison, you messed up my hair!” you sighed, adjusting the hair that you spent a long time styling that morning. You noticed him shaking with giggles as he noticed your hair, which somewhat resembled a birds nest.

“Oh, take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you grumbled, adjusting the loose strands of hair.

“Aw, love, I think your hair looks just fine,” George responded, coming closer to you, wrapping his arm around you. You fell into his embrace, letting him hold you.

“Aw, look at these ol’ softies,” John pointed at the two of you. “You’re straight out of a novel, you two,” he shook his head, sipping his tea. You and George laughed, him pulling you closer to his chest.

“Yeah, come on, lovebirds, I’m trying to enjoy my drink here,” Paul sighed jokingly, smiling as you and George burst into laughter.

Suddenly George Martin popped his head into the break room. “Ready for another round, lads?” he asked to the sighs of the boys.

“See you later, (y/n),” George grumpily stood up, a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Geo, wait,” you stood up too, walking over to catch up to him. “It’s kind of cold in here, would it be ok if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you?”

George smiled, the question sweet and unexpected. “Of course, (y/n),” he honestly looked taken aback and awfully proud of himself. “Its on the chair there, by my bag,” he gestured towards the chair in the corner, his leather bag sitting on the seat.

“Thanks!” you responded happily, grabbing his hand quickly, then letting him head back into the recording room.

You went over to the chair, taking the thick, navy sweater into your hands and pulling it over your dress. The smell of his cologne was heavy, the scent familiar.

Warming up by the second, you decided to explore the studio. You headed out of the break room, pulling the sweater’s extra long sleeves over your hands and wandering through the hallways. You found a halfway-empty door and peered through it, spotting a piano in there. You looked around, making sure no one was near before entering the room.

You walked unsteadily towards the piano, sitting down gently onto the bench and resting your fingers onto the keys. You began playing a song, focusing on hitting the right notes and keeping rhythm. You suddenly hit a wrong note, and you sighed in frustration, working backwards to find your mistake.

A knock on the doorway made you turn quickly, startled. You saw George’s lanky frame leaning against the door.

He made his way over to you, standing next to the piano. “That sounded great!” he said encouragingly. “Can you play again, I didn't get to hear the beginning,” he asked, sitting next to you on the bench.

“No, not until I get it right,” you responded, shaking your head. “See, I think I'm playing this in the wrong key? Maybe A minor would work better? Or C major. Or maybe I’m just not hitting the right chord progressions. I need to look at this sheet music when we get home. Really go over it,” you paused, looking at him. His eyes were crinkled, trying to contain a smile.

“Oh (y/n), you’re such a nerd,” he chuckled, tapping out a basic tune onto the keyboard.

You frowned at him exaggeratedly before turning to face him. “Hey, why aren’t you recording? George called you in to play, like, 10 minutes ago?” you asked him.

“Ringo and Paul were being too disruptive. He said we should just go home for the day. Can you believe it?” he asked, eyes shining. “I can get out of here! Woohoo!” he cheered, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, his energy making you happy. you giggled as he offered his arm to you, and you accepted it willingly.

“Your laugh is so adorable,” he commented as you two headed out of the studio, walking through the empty hallways.

“Yours too, Geo,” you clutched his arm, placing your head on his shoulder.

He tapped his cheek, cheekbone prominent. “Give me a kiss, darling,” he requested, and you happily obliged, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Suddenly, you say Ringo and Paul leaning against the brick wall outside, pretending to throw up.

“Euch!” Ringo said in between fits of laughter. “You two are making me sick!”

“Please!” Paul jokingly pleaded, “get a room!”

You just laughed and grabbed George’s hand, ignoring the boys and walking with your man.

— —

Taglist: @fiesta-freddie @givemequeen @littledarlingwellaway @beatles-babee @katiekitty261 @zezzan @geostarr

Message to be added to the taglist!

My inbox is open!

#the beatles #beatles #george harrison #beatlemania #george x reader #george harrison fluff #george harrison imagine #beatles x reader #beatles fluff #beatles imagine #givemequeen

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xdepthsofwinterx · 5 years ago

Note

(2/2) Also, was thinking: she left before they go to the Underdark, but the Valsharess probably sent some drows after her, tracking her and trying to kill her. What did she do at that time? (next part of the ask XD)

{{Alright first off, apologies @waterdeephero! This ask has sat in my inbox for literal years! I have been waiting for the perfect inspiration to strike for this particular part of Dhana’s story-line. It is one of my favourite parts, largely because it is where Dhana meets my lovely @aquiversfull Kymiel. So finally, here it is! Forgive the length, I got carried away with battle scenes again x’D}}

Waterdeep, Hordes of the Underdark, Chapter 1-2: Canon!Verse

Thwack!

Blood ran icily cold, what remained of the bolt splinteringin her periphery. The emerald sheen wasn’t lost on her. Poison. Heart thunderingagainst her ribcage, Dhana darted down another alleyway. Visibility was growingincreasingly poor as near vertical sheets of rain hammered a crescendo againstthe cobbles. Squinting revealed little of Waterdeep’s winding streets, thesorceress barely making out the looming outlines of buildings. Had she time torecast infravision, she would have, but her assailants where incessant.

Another volley whistled through the air, ripping through thetop of her ear. Dhana drew blood from clamping down on her lip, smoulderingpain erupting from the wound.

Fucking drow!

Ducking beneath washing lines that extended across her path,the woman used the sudden cover to her advantage. More complex incantationswere out of the equation, but evocation came as naturally as breathing.

Hands outstretched, fingertips dragging along brick, Dhanafocused on the pain. The way water seeped into the ragged flesh, the shreddedcartilage flapping lamely in her haste. Ice crackled to life, feeding off theweather and her adrenaline. It shot out like spiderwebs, spikes erupting frombrick at an alarming rate. A startled cry pulled out a cruel smirk.

One down. Gods know how many more to go.

Something flashed up ahead, the tell-tale sizzling of the arcane. Dark brows furrowed a moment too late, therealisation pooling horror in her gut.

Spider webs.

She felt the fibrous grip snag hold of her boots, rippingone from her foot. The momentum sent her sprawling unceremoniously in a sticky,sodden heap. Muscles and bones shrieked in protest, the skin upon her forearmsshredded to ribbons from the friction. Dhana coughed violently, head ringing asshe tried desperately to get to her feet.

‘Zexen'uma harl, rivvil.’ *

She froze, head jerking upwards at the commanding tone. Likeice it slithered over her skin, enticing a rash of goose bumps to follow. Desperateto see through the watery veil, she struggled to raise her hand. A shadow leaptoverhead, a burst of silvery light and a shattering of glass had her seeing stars.

Like a fly upon a spider’s web, she could feel their eyesupon her. Whom ever it was moved closer.

“Phu’ dos zhaunus ol zhah ilta?**” an uttered whisper, somehowaudible above the rain, called from above. Their leader – or so she surmised – stoodbefore her now. Without a light she could make out little features, but the lethalpair of short-swords spoke volumes.

‘Assassins. Like the one in the Yawning Portal.’ Shegrimaced as the figure crouched down at her level, the overwhelming scent ofchemicals upon their person. A hand captured her chin, wrenching it up at apainful angle. She was twisted this way and that, the drow inspecting her earwith a growl.

“Foolish male, have you no eyes!? This is your pathetichandiwork is it not?”

With a jerk, Dhana was released. Recoiling, she pressed herhands more firmly into the ground and forced herself up. This time her captors allowed her to kneel,but the red hued blade at her exposed throat meant she did little else.

“If you are so intent on killing me, hurry it up. I’ve freezingmy tits off out here!”

It wasn’t a lie. Having fled the inn with next to nopossessions, desperate to avoid questioning glances, the mage wore naught buther leather and fur padded armour. Even her staff was gone.

Sliding up her gullet, the short-sword rested just under herchin. She could feel the trickle of blood forming from the nick.

“Dos phuul natha bran uss whol zhaunus***,” followed by avelvety chuckle, “I will enjoy disembowelling you like the dog you are.”

N-Now hang on, disembowelling?! No one mentioned-

Phwet.

Dhana flinched as something thick and viscous splatteredacross her face. As she sat there blinking furiously through whatever thiswas, she heard a distinctive sound.

The twang of a bowstring. And whoever it was had stirredup one hell of a hornet’s nest. Shrieking drow echoed upon the roof tops, thesounds of spells zipping through the air and breaking roof shingles. Dhana feltthe blade fall, shortly followed by a body. The sorceress wasted little time inscrubbing at her eyes. Finally her vision cleared, sepia eyes swivelling about.

There, sticking out of the hood of her fallen captor,was a blue and white tipped arrow. From this distance Dhana could tell it was aclear headshot, right through the eye socket. She whistled, impressed.

That was until a dagger sliced through the air before hernose.

‘Yes Dhana, battlefield, we are in a godforsaken battlefieldyou twat!!’

Snatching up the blade she set about cutting herself free,the webs falling away. Whomever had cast it must have met an untimely end, asthe silk vanished. Dhana stumbled to her feet, willing her magic to harden uponthe surface of her skin and armour. Pieces of rock fell away as it responded, notwithout sending a dizzying spell of vertigo her way.

I…I need to rest, badly.

Sadly it seemed Lady Tymora was ignoring her again today, asan irate roar sounded from behind her. Bewildered, Dhana instinctively rolledaway, just in time to miss the great sword that spliced the space she had onceoccupied. A hulking, silver haired beauty with a none to friendly exteriorgreeted her.

Balanced upon the balls of her feet, Dhana acted quickly. Willingwith all her strength, she coaxed the water about the drow’s feet to burst tolife. It wound up his legs tightening and crackling with incessant cold. Hehissed, barking some very uncouth words in his mother language, managing tolift his blade with increasing difficulty. Filthy, bloodied and utterly fed upherself, Dhana gave him a dark grin.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Zu'tour ol elg'care-eugh!!!” ****

You would have thought that he’d have figured it out. After all,the metre long icicles stained red with drow blood was a massive give away.Dhana didn’t give him the satisfaction of answer.

She outstretched both hands. One hand clenched with violentintent, the other flipped a universal sign that shall not be repeated here. Thegreat sword clattered loudly upon cobblestone, her mouthy friend now the centreof a grotesque, ice sculpture.

Slumping against the wall, Dhana leaned her head back againstthe brickwork. Rain bounced off her feverish skin, refreshing despite the throbbingear. Morbidly curious as to the damage Dhana lifted a tentative finger.

“I would strongly advise against doing that.”

An involuntary spasm shook her entire body, the sorceressyelping in surprise. Leathers creaked, drawing her attention to the suddenvoice.

How he had managed to appear at her side so silently was beyondher. Well, besides the rain and the previous battle of course.

An elf knelt mere feet away, ears dripping, face clarteredin a similar fashion to her own. A heavy emerald cloak adorned his shoulders,swept across studded leather armour, held in place by a brass broach. Hisoutline blurred ever so slightly at the edges, causing her nausea to worsen. Hesmiled despite their situation, dimples appearing in his bronzy complexion. Evidently,he held this expression often.

“Please do not be alarmed, I have no interest in hurtingyou.”

She gave him a sceptical look, “Y-You sure about that?”

Those unusual ochre eyes gleamed with unspoken humour.Instead of answering he pulled back his cloak to reveal…a quiver full of blueand white tipped arrows. Dhana gawked.

“Y-You’ve got one hell of an aim!” Her elven saviour finallychuckled at this, the timbre pleasant upon her frayed nerves.

“Luckily for you, yes. Although, you are quite anintimidating fighter yourself.”

He gestured warily to the glistening, impaled drow. Sheshould have thought twice about looking, as it seemed her stomach had reachedits limit. Lurching away from her newfound companion, Dhana emptied thecontents of her gut onto the cobblestone. She could barely breathe from theconvulsions, feeling the bile burn her nostrils as well as her throat.

Movement from behind alerted her to the nearing presence. Callousedfingers gently lifted her hair, gathering it at the base of her neck. Had shethe strength Dhana would have slapped him aside, alas she could not. Weak, emotionallyexhausted the mage could do little but retch until nothing remained.

Minutes passed, odd gags threatening here and there. Oncesatisfied, the elf retreated, squatting before her with a flask.

“Drink this, please.” She squinted through watery, bloodshoteyes. He sighed patiently, “It is not poison, look.”

He sipped the contents, swallowing to prove his point.Reluctantly the sorceress nodded, taking the leather-bound container, and downingas much as she could muster.

“I have neutralised the remainder of your attackers. I suggestwe move from this location now, as it is likely another party will follow intheir footsteps.”

Dhana almost choked. Coughing, she handed back his water skin.

“What is this we?” He blinked at her as if it wereobvious. She snorted, “I do not need babysitting, master elf.”

Securing the hip flask upon his belt, the elf stood up. Headjusted his bow and quiver, before glancing back down at her.

“I prefer Kymiel if you don’t mind. That nickname is…painfullyformal,” not waiting for her to respond he bent down and secured his armabout her waist. Eyes widened rapidly, the mage squawking indignantly. Helifted her with surprising strength and ease, positioning her arm behind his head.She stumbled a bit, coming to lean into his gait. Dhana glowered.

“And you are?”

“Pissed off.”

“Well, Miss Pissed Off, you are hardly in any fit state tocontinue unaided.”

She couldn’t exactly argue with that, given the way her headspun from overexertion. Growling, she let her head flop forward whilst she centredherself. A pang of guilt ran through her.

“It’s Dhana, my name that is.”

She could feel him perk up as he began leading them away.

“Pity, I rather liked your prior name.”

“Ugh…shut up!”

Tonight was going to be longest night she had endured inmany a year.-Drow Translations- Taken from here and here.

* - “Stay down, human.”** - “Are you sure it is her?”*** - “You sure are a loud one.”**** - “Shut it, bitch!”

#waterdeephero #answered asks #headcanon #aquiversfull #{{Dhana meets Kymiel at long bloody last~!}}

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kamekamelea · 6 years ago

Note

Homework and hobbies for the prompt list???

the one where Jake gets a warrant that Pilsners are boring indeed

#34. Hobbies from this kids prompt list

This is far from my best work (sorry about that *hides*) but even though the idea was clear in my head from the moment I saw this request the words just wouldn’t form and this one has been in my inbox for so long I had to get it out of my system. Hope you enjoy it anyway, Anon! :) Thank you for sending the prompt 💕 it turned out silly but I like it :D

Thank you so much @cheddar-the-dog for beta-reading and your words of encouragement 💖💖

Special thanks go to @rosalitadiazz and @vernonfielding for being my information sources on this one, your help is very much appreciated! :D 💕

read on ao3

“Isn’t it weird our 17-year-old son is spending his Saturday with his Nana?”

Jake asks his wife one day, getting suspicions after few weeks of Atlas staying all afternoons at Karen’s on work days (Amy responds that she finds it endearing, and hopes her own future grandchildren spend so much time with her when they’re teenagers). Jake’s totally aware of his son’s special bond with his Mum and is very grateful for it but still, call it 6th sense or work-related bias after so many years being a cop, he can’t help but feel something is off.

Sure, Atlas and Karen’s bond is truly special, especially given the fact that he’s a teenager and kids his age are not mostly known for spending an awful lot of their afternoons with their Nana. But they have just so much in common, Karen being the only competent person supporting his love for cooking and helping him with developing his skills making with him all kinds of weird foods only Uncle Charles seems to enjoy.

(At a very early stage of his life it turned out cooking is Atlas’ passion and since his parents aren’t very talented in that area, it was Jake’s mum who’s helped Atlas to discover his skills. As he grew older, he started making more sophisticated dishes, he learned to bake and make all sorts of pickled vegetables. He even made some jams one summer and the amount of jars full of sweet substance was so enormous, the whole family still has their pantry packed with it, even after a giveaway to the whole Nine-Nine squad). And his Nana was there throughout it all - such victories as the first batch of well-done pierogis for Mother’s Day one year, or a 5-level birthday cake for Jake. But she was there for the failures as well, like when a whole box with jars of pickled beetroots gone bad and Atlas, being a sensitive boy, cried all afternoon because of it.)

Eventually, Jake convinces his wife to visit Karen later that day. “What do you say we pay my mum a surprise visit this afternoon?” To which suggestion she agrees eagerly, realizing Karen might appreciate them doing groceries for her.

Jake knows he’s been right seeing the unpleasant surprise on his Mum’s face the moment she opens the door, seeing him at her porch with bags in his hands.

“Jake?” Karen’s bewilderment, showing in her eyes being wide, is priceless.

Busted.

“Hello Karen!” a muffled shout comes from his car, where Amy is picking up the rest of the groceries they got for her. Conspiracy visit or not, his mum still is an old lady, who needs help with basic chores (even though she has a hard time admitting it).

Jake gives his - still a bit in shock - mum a quick kiss on the cheek and heads straight to the kitchen, for one to leave the bags there and for two to get over with this mission on catching his son red-handed as soon as possible.

The problem is, the kitchen is empty.

“Amy, my love, Jake - would you like a cup of coffee? And cake?”

“Oh, yes please!” his wife obliviousness of the situation really taking place (Karen trying to distract him from finding his son) is annoying, but Jake couldn’t clue Amy in, because she’d call him obsessive and would made an awful lot fun of him.

“Mum, where’s Atlas?”

He goes past her, ignoring her attempts to distract him from going further the hallway (while Amy’s still blissfully unaware of her husband and mother-in-law’s game, cheerfully asking about Karen’s well being).

There’s no sign of Atlas all over Jake’s childhood’s house so the only place left for Sergeant Peralta to look for is the garage. And that’s where he finds his one and only son doing a thing he would never accuse him of, startling Jake and filling his heart with horror, simultaneously shattering it to pieces.

HIS SON IS BREWING BEER.

For a moment Jake thinks he’s having a heart attack, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him and Amy seeing him in that state rushes to his side and only then she notices the source of her husband’s sudden deterioration. There is a million thoughts going through her mind but there is one that is especially loud ‘HE’S UNDERAGE, HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO DRINK ALCOHOL NOT TO MENTION MAKING IT’ but also a quiet one ‘How did my son turn into my boring ex-boyfriend?’ .

She orders her son to go straight to the car and as Jake starts to feel better they all go home in a suffocating silence. Jake feels heartbroken seeing that his son shares a passion with his wife’s ex-boyfriend (especially when only last month Atlas confessed to him that “only the first Die Hard movie is good, Dad”) and doesn’t utter one word even when his wife makes a long and loud lecture to their son once they arrive at Santiago-Peralta household. In the spur of the moment she bans Atlas from making any more alcohol which results in Atlas shutting himself in his room for the rest of the evening.

Mr. and Mrs. Santiago-Peralta spend the rest of the day questioning all their parenting choices, wondering when did they put him on this road to being a boring person. Especially Jake can’t see a moment when everything went wrong - his son has made so many explicit “Title of your sex tape” jokes ever since he was 13, he and Ana team up every year for a Halloween Heist, not failing to fool their old parents for 3 years straight now and they go together to the waterpark every year (just the two of them, some quality father-son time) -in Jake’s eyes Atlas is the most fun person he knows (but don’t tell Amy that).

Their self-pity party gets interrupted by their 22-year-old daughter Ana, who enters demanding answers as to why everyone is acting so weird today. After telling her the whole story of the staggering discovery at Nana’s, she tells them how Atlas has been afraid to tell them about his new hobby for the longest time, knowing of their weird prejudice towards beers that are not Blue Moon (or Corona if they feel fancy).

(Actually it was Ana herself, gutted by her parents taste in beers, who convinced them shortly after her 21st birthday - discovering there is more to adult alcohol-drinking-life than the cheapest beers in her parents’ fridge - to switch to Dos Equis (her personal favourite), so that the policy of ‘not drinking anything that doesn’t taste like piss’ is no longer on the table. Their resentment towards trying anything new beer-related was obvious and weird to their kids even.)

Ana’s revelation actually makes them even more sad - to know their son kept a secret from them, being anxious of their reaction feels like a true parenting failure for the Santiago-Peralta couple. Sure, their interaction with Teddy has been traumatic for the both of them, the memory of it still giving Amy a Pilsner-TSD. But they see now so clearly it should have never influenced their behaviour towards their son.

“He has foreseen you might react this way so he decided to keep his mouth shut. And Nana was his partner in crime because she’s just the best, obviously.”

And they reacted in the worst way possible. Especially Amy seems to have huge regrets regarding her outburst.

She has tears in her eyes, cursing herself for being so harsh before, and she’s overcome with the strongest urge to just hug her son and never let go (well she has this urge constantly from the second he was born but sometimes this need gets just unbearable just like in this moment) so she sprints to his room, apologizing and hugging him until he’s all abashed from the sudden affection coming from his mother ( “It’s okay Mum, I’m not even angry anymore. Could you let go, I can’t feel the half of my body, you’re crushing me.”).

“We owe you an apology, Atlas. We should have trusted you with this instead of being so close-minded when it comes to beer.” Once Amy finally lets her son breath again, loosening her grip on him, Jake takes a seat next to him.

“Where is your animosity towards beer coming from anyway?” Their son’s question catches them off guard and there’s no way for them to hide it, as they start to mumble incoherent excuses.

“It’s... just that at one point your Mum was really sick of it.”

“Title of your sex tape, Dad!”

After Jake high-fives his son and his wife rolls her eyes with a fond smile forming on her lips, they make a promise to Atlas to never ever react that way to anything happening in his life and he assures them he will not drink his own beer (Jake doesn’t believe this promise for a second but Amy seems to be satisfied with his answer). As Amy makes a move to leave, Jake stalls, almost insecure and tries to make an attempt to fix what once was an unbreakable bond with his son (before he stabbed his back with the Die Hard confession and start this new “a-lot-like-Teddy” hobby) asking him about his new interest.

(Of course he’s being overly dramatic - such a silly thing would never jeopardize his relationship with Atlas. Still, Jake can’t help but feel a bit left out, jealous even, of not sharing Teddy’s knowledge of beers so that he can impress his son and engage in this new passion of his.)

“So, what is it you’re brewing there, buddy? Some good ol’ pilsners?” Jake’s knowledge about beers is really limited and he has never even tried expanding it, what he mildly regrets right now.

“Pilsners, Dad? Really? Who do you think I am? Some old, boring Czech guy? Pilsners are like the worst type of beers! There’s nothing fun about them. They’re BORING. I brew Ales and sometime Weizenbiers but NEVER Pilsners!”

His son is so indignant and almost offended Jake would think he has anything to do with THE MOST BORING type of beer his heart warms and he becomes overwhelmed with a wave of affection towards his son, resulting in him grabbing Atlas' round face in his palms and planting a very manly kiss on his forehead. They spend most of Sunday talking about Atlas’ new hobby (Jake actually learning a lot of new and surprisingly interesting facts about beer brewing).

(Jake’s the first person honored to taste the first sip of next batch of Atlas’ beer and is pleasantly surprised finding out he actually likes it. When he pats his son on the back, showing his appreciation, a giant beam appears on Atlas’ face, the one, as Amy says, that makes him look exactly like his father.)

#b99 #b99 fic #b99fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #jake x amy fic #peraltiago kid #jake peralta #amy santiago #my writing #mine #kids prompts #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #ofc i didn’t want to offend any czechs #😂😂😂#i love them and their beer <3 #kasia writes

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phrynewrites · 6 years ago

Note

I'd love a platonic brooke/Nina friendship fic for 9 please if you're okay with writing it! I feel like that prompt would be hilarious for those two after a night out!

Hello lovely! Ahh I’ve been so excited to write this since I saw it in my inbox and I’m sorry for all the waiting for the drabbles. I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with these two. It’s set in no particular AU.

“You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

Yvie opened the door, revealing two laughing fools, obviously drunk, leaning against her railing, staring off at her rose bushes before snapping their attention back to Yive.

“You have mail you didn’t take in, Yvangeline.” Nina leaned against Brooke, shaking a couple mailers and a few envelopes. She opened up a Victoria’s Secret advert. “Look Brooke.” She held it out for her to see. “Free panty coupon.”

“With purchase or no?” Brooke slurred out. “Because that’s how they get you.”

Nina ignored her. “Ooh, this one looks like an electric bill.”

Brooke shook a finger at Yvie. “You got to pay those. That’s what Vanjie told me. She said, Brookie, we got to cut that check,” Brooke said, roughing up her voice a bit. “So. I. Did.” She punctuated with her finger.

“We did pay them, that’s why they’re out there.” Yvie grabbed the mail from Nina and stuffed it back in the box.

Nina took in Yvie’s bathrobe and green face mask. “Why are you green?”

“Why are you drunk?” Yvie shot back, face wrinkling.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Ooh, good point, goood point,” Brooke added. “We’re coming in.”

Yvie moved out of the way, allowing the two to slink in, hoping miserably that they would be quieter inside, fully knowing that they wouldn’t. They couldn’t even walk across her hardwood floors or needlessly share the same faded floral printed arm chair—there was a perfectly good couch just feet away from them—quietly. They continued exchanging giggles, Brooke sitting on Nina’s lap, Nina braiding Brooke’s hair.

Yvie shushed them. “You two need to be quiet. One of you can take the couch and sleep off all of this.” Yvie gestured to the two wrapped up on the chair. “Over there. Quietly.”

At first, they looked over at the couch, then at the fuzzy red blanket draped over the couch, then even further, at the coats on the hooks by the door: a run down brown fur coat and a black pea coat with silver buttons. Brooke and Nina shared a look, mouths forming o’s, before turning back to Yvie.

“Whose coat is that? Nina sang, reaching out to accept a cup of water from Yvie, bringing it to Brooke’s lips, allowing her to take a few slow sips, puckering her lips and breathing out an ‘ahh’ in response, taking the cup from Nina and returning the favor.

Yvie met them with confusion, half her face mask already washed off. “Uh, it’s Scarlet��s?”

“Are you two together yet?” Nina nearly choked on her water as she tried to talk and drink at the same time, Brooke using her sleeve to stop the water from dripping down Nina’s chin.

“Or are you two still just fucking?” Brooke attempted to wiggle her brows, but just ended up squinting.

“What?” Yvie leaned against her counter, shooting a worried glance back toward the bedroom. “You guys really need to be qui–”

“Because what worked for me and Monet, was like, just telling her, you know?”

“I just slid into Vanjie’s DMs.” Brooke finished the last of the water, twisting to place the empty cup down on the floor.

“After you slid your tongue into her mouth.” Nina wrapped her arms around Brooke’s waist, turning toward Brooke, allowing her pointed tongue to extend toward Brooke’s mouth, Brooke own tongue nearly meeting Nina’s.

“For the love of god,” Yvie said, already feeling her fuse drawing short. “Put your tongues back in your mouths.”

Nina pushed hers back in with her fingers, nodding at Yvie.

“Either way, all good ideas, so feel free to use them.”

Yvie let her head fall into her hands. “We’re literally married. You were both there.” She spread her arms wide. “You’re in our house right now.” Yvie pulled her robe tighter, returning to the kitchen sink to wash off the rest of the mask.

“Love is so beautiful.”

Nina’s lip quivered. “I love love.”

“Love’s the best.” Brooke’s voice broke as she fell against Nina, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Yvie, now fresh faced, brought her attention back to the two, who now sat sobbing against one another, babbling on about how much they loved each other and how they would love each other forever.

God, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of this sooner. Get Monet and Vanjie to pick these idiots up. The sooner they were out of her living room, the sooner she could go to bed, and the sooner Yvie could fall into a well deserved sleep.

“Yvie, get over here and love with us.” Brooke mumbled into Nina’s shoulder.

Yvie returned from the bedroom with her phone. “I’m calling your wives to come get you two.” It was nearly half past one a.m., and it she supposed it was rude to call this late, but right now it didn’t matter.

“Nu-uh.” Nina shook her head, eyes still glassy. “They’re at a bachelorette party.”

“Sloshed,” Brooke added.

“Very sloshed. And they can’t drink and drive because that’s bad.”

“Yeah.” Brooke peeled one arm off of Nina and put her hand on her hip. “And we can’t either. Because it’s bad. That’s why we drink and walked.” She added with a sassy little grunt, which Yvie had absolutely zero time for.

“Okay, then again,” Yvie said, drilling each word in. “You both stay here. And sleep on the couch.” She picked up the discarded cup, refilling it with water, turning back toward the living room, only to find that Brooke and Nina were now sitting on the floor with the fuzzy red blanket over their heads.

She set the cup on the coffee table. “Okay, what is this?”

“It’s a blanket fort.”

“And you’re not invited,” Brooke yelled, pointing at Yvie under the blanket.

Yvie rushed over, lowering Brooke’s finger, hissing “You need to be quiet.”

“What I need is more to drink.” Brooke replied easily, her arm falling heavily back down in her lap.

“Fine.” Yvie fell back into the arm chair. “There’s a cup of water on the table.”

Brooke’s long fingers snaked out from under the blanket, like a predator stalking prey, pawing around aimlessly until she brushed against the cup, inching it toward her, and then in a rapid motion, taking it under the blanket.

“For your kindness, fair Yvangeline.” Brooke’s hand shot out again, this time depositing Nina’s watch on the coffee table. “A gift, for you.”

Yvie breathed out a string of profanities, unable to be taken by their silliness, their lilting laughter under the blanket. She wanted to go to bed.

Yvie yanked the blanket off, finding the two huddled together, spilled water next to them.

“Okay, now it’s time to go to bed.” She pulled a set of sheets and an extra pillow out of the hall closet, setting up the couch and chair, shoving the spare pillow into Nina’s hands. “Please. Just lay down on the couch and go to bed.”

“The couch is too small.” Nina pointed out.

“Yes.” Yvie rolled her eyes. Hard. “That’s why one of you will be on the chair.”

“But we want to sleep together.” Brooke pouted.

“Holding hands.”

“Like sea otters.”

“Okay,” Yvie drawled out, pulling the chair closer to the couch. “Now you can hold hands.”

Nina grabbed Brooke by the shoulders. “Or, we could cuddle,” she said. “Like the good ol’ days.”

“I don’t care what you do, just go to bed.”

“Or…” Brooke trailed off, eyeing the oven. “We all make cookies like we did in the good ol’ days.”

“Yes!” Nina bounced on her toes, rushing toward the kitchen, pulling Brooke with her.

“No.” Yvie pulled at her hair. “No no no. It’s bedtime.”

But Brooke and Nina were already opening and slamming cabinets haphazardly, in hot pursuit of a baking tray and a bowl. Brooke decided a pot was close enough.

Nina found a tray, holding it up as Brooke gawked at it in wonder.

“You know that one vine—”

“I swear to god, Brooke,” Yvie interrupted. “Don’t do it.

“—with the woman banging on the pan, like—”

Yvie’s eyes flashed angrily at Brooke, her face tightening as she saw Nina nod slowly, reaching for the pot.

“Put that down, Nina.”

Nina did not put it down.

Instead, she banged it against the tray as her and Brooke yelled “I didn’t get no fuckin’ sleep cause of y’all, y’all—”

Yvie reached across the counter, grabbing the pot.

Scarlet meandered out into the living room, dazed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, adjusting her over-sized t-shirt. “What is this?”

The three stood frozen in their position, Nina and Brooke with their child-like grins, Yvie mouthing ‘I’m so sorry, babe.’

Nina and Brooke dropped the tray and pot, letting it land with a metallic shutter, and ran toward Scarlet, the two pinning her against the armchair in a tight embrace.

“We’re making cookies. Do you want to make cookies?”

Nina nodded rapidly, feverishly grinning, hoping her own enthusiasm would wipe the confusion off her face and convince her to join them.

Scarlet looked up, over Nina’s shoulder, quirking a brow at Yvie, who mouthed back ‘They’re drunk.’

“Okay.”

Giddily, they each took a hand and pulled her back into the kitchen.

After the cookies were finally made and eaten, the clock struck three times on the hour, and Brooke and Nina were forced to drink another cup of water each and brought back to Scarlet and Yvie’s bed, so the two of them could cuddle and hold hands to their heart’s content until sleep overtook them, Scarlet and Yvie passed out on the couch, blanketed in exhaustion.

***

Nina and Brooke stumbled down the hall, feeling the walls for balance, struck by the sunlight pouring from the open windows, the mess in the kitchen, and Yvie and Scarlet, who stood in the middle of it, eating toast and drinking coffee as though their cabinets weren’t dusted in flour and batter didn’t sag from their counter tops.

“What happened here?” Nina asked, sighting her watch on the coffee table, fumbling to put it on, her pounding head complicating the task.

“What’s that look about?” Brooke pointed between the two of them, Yvie letting out a bellowing laugh in response, Scarlet continuing to drink her coffee.

Yvie brushed toast crumbs from her fingers, a devilish grin forming on her curled lips. “You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

#for anon #drabble #nina x brooke #friendship fic #slight mentions of #ninex #branjie #scyvie #rpdr fanfiction #phryneff #answered

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khadij-al-kubra · 6 years ago

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Thomas In Wonderland (Full Fanfic) Chapter 1

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn Deceit, Nate, the Dragon Witch (i mean jabberwalkie), Possibly fan adopted shorts characters

Pairings: None (although knowing me and my love of ships, this may change)

Words: 1368

Summary: Thomas seems to have lost his inspiration, his creative drive, and in short has a seriously BAD case of writers block. Perhaps an accidental trip down the rabbit hole into a land of nonsense and madness will help him find that flighty spark he’s been looking for.

Author’s Note: Greetings guys, gals, & non-binary pals! Looks like this is going to be my first multi-chapter fanfic of the new year. This chapter is more of a prologue than anything so it won’t be as long. If you know my writing though, than future chapters are pretty much guaranteed to be MUCH longer. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Also, if you would like to be in the tag list for this fanfic, feel free to message or inbox me and I shall happily and gratefully add you to the list. I’m super excited about this, and I hope you all enjoy.

Prologue

Writers block. The bane of his existence and possible the only thing that Thomas hated even more than he hated bigoted jerk faces. ...Okay he hated the latter way more, but writers block was definitely up there on the list, right behind mucky Florida heat and cold pizza. His current bout of creative block however was making its way up that list.

“Come on brain...think of things. Come on brain, be so smart,” Thomas mumbled to himself, disappointed he couldn’t even come up with something more original than a borrowed line from that Lin-Manuel Miranda vine.

He certainly felt like the embodiment of it though.

He had been sitting at the table in his living room for the past two hours. His laptop was opened to a mockingly blank page, a lined yellow notepad next to it covered in scratched out bad ideas, crumpled papers were scattered around him, and his Steven Universe mug half emptied of coffee that was cold by now. To add insult to injury, it was an actually nice crisp yet sunshiny autumn day and Thomas could only sit inside as the beauty of it mocked him from the other side of his living room window. The jerk!

He would’ve loved nothing more than to go for a walk outside or visit his friends, but sadly Thomas had a new script to write. Normally he and Joan were pretty good about keeping on top of schedules and they’d even gotten the last two scripted videos out in pretty good amounts of time. Which hopefully made up for that six month dry spell they both swore never to speak of again. However, Joan reminded him that a new scripted video was due soon and Thomas for the life of him just COULD NOT seem to come up with any new or exciting story ideas! It was like his creativity was wandering around a blank page desert and the oasis of is imagination had dried up.

“Say, that could make for a neat Sanders Sides video,” Thomas mused to himself perking up...only to deflate back down after realizing they didn’t have the budget for that kind of a green screen effect. “Besides, the sides never debate outside of my living room and moving them to a location outside of my house wouldn’t make any sense.”

Thomas groaned and plonked his forehead onto the wooden coffee table. Making videos and writing scripts used to be so much fun. Until it started being his job more than a passion. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was signing up for. He wanted this, and he knew he was luckier than most that he got to get paid for creating art and doing what he loved. Not that he and his team did it for the money. Except lately creating felt more like a chore. Not something eh wanted to do but like something he had to do. Like dusting, which was his least favorite chore. Creating felt like a chore! But he couldn’t let Joan or Camden or his wonderful famders down. So he needed to come up with something good...Thomas just wish he could feel that rush of wondrous joy and colorful excitement about his work again. He missed coming up with ideas that were so out there yet he felt a surge of pride every time they worked. Lately all his ideas felt, well, like looking at a faded rainbow. Which was sad as both and artist and a gay man...But deadlines were deadlines and he had to create something to post for the next video.

“That is if i could come up with something period!” Thomas sighed. “Maybe i need a break. Just five to ten minutes of something fun to get the ol’ juices flowing again. Something exciting...”

He looked at the very cold coffee with a pouted lip. Or maybe I just need a boost from my favorite caffeinated drug, he thought. With that decided Thomas picked up the mug and got up to go to the kitchen. Before he even reached the entryway however, a flash of purple in the corner of his eye stopped him. It was from outside. Curious, Thomas went over to the window to peer outside, hoping to see what that thing was. Maybe it was a pretty hummingbird or something, he mused, on its way flying south for the winter. He squinted as he saw the bushes across his yard tremble and this time he caught the flash of purple as it popped our from the foliage.

Only it wasn’t a hummingbird. It was a rabbit: A black rabbit wearing a velvet purple waistcoat. Thomas did a double take. he rubbed at his tired eyes to be sure he wasn’t just seeing things after staring at a blank screen for so long. Nope. It was really there. And if that weren’t jaw drop worth enough, now the black rabbit was taking out a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket.

“Well that’s not something you see every day.”

Too curious to pass seeing this delightful oddity up close, Thomas quickly set down his mug, pulled his jacket over his favorite faded circle shirt and slipped his sneakers on. He was out the door and across faster than you could say Jeemanetty. When he was a few feet away from the rabbit, who was paying more attention to his pocket watch, Thomas slowed down to a tip toe so as not to scare the rabbit off. As he got closer Thomas saw that there was an elegant storm cloud design engraved on the back of the watch. What a cute little fella, Thomas thought to himself. But where did he come from? How did he get a fancy watch and threads like that? Should I call animal control though? As he was debating this, something even weirder happened.

“Ah geeze,” said the Black Rabbit. “I am so late! He’s gonna have my ears and whiskers for this, along with the rest of my head.”

Thomas literally felt his jaw drop and his eyes bug out near cartoon level.

“You can TALK!?” Thomas shouted.

The Black Rabbit jumped at this voice. The silver watch shook in his trembling hands, the poor thing. He hadn’t meant to frighten the little guy. It’s just a talking black rabbit wasn’t something you saw every day, not even in the Bermuda Triangle of America that is Florida.

“It’s okay little guy,” Thomas said, hands held out carefully. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.”

The Black Rabbit anxiously looked from Thomas to his watch and then back again.

“No time to talk,” he said. “I’mlateI’mLATEI’MLATE!!!”

And then quick as a lightning strike the Black Rabbit dashed into the thicket of shrubbery and trees. Without thinking about it Thomas ran after him.

“Wait, I’m sorry! Come back! Maybe I can help you,” Thomas called out to the purple clad creature ahead of him.

He chased the Rabbit through brambles and bushes, across lawns and through low hanging leaves. If Thomas had taken a moment to think he would’ve realized that there was no way he could possibly catch up to a wild animal, least of all one with a waistcoat and pocket watch, which was surely proof that he was smarter than the average bunny even without the talking. He also would’ve noticed that the hole that the Black Rabbit had ducked into was much larger than a normal rabbit hole and was probably dangerous if someone were to get too close. Most of all, had Thomas slowed down for a moment to think, he would’ve realized that when he left the house in a hurry, he had forgotten to tie the laces of his sneakers that he’d slipped on.

But Thomas did none of those things. As a result, what he did do was trip on his laces just after seeing the Black Rabbit go down the whole. And because he was so close when he tripped on his laces, even if he wanted to, Thomas could not stop to think now.

All he could do was scream loudly as he fell headlong down the rabbit hole into the unknown.

Next =>

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters @icecoldparadise @the-pastel-peach @justisaisfine @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6@hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @ab-artist @unikornavenger @queer-human-being @grey-lysander @asofterfan @fangirltothefullest @tinkslittlebelle @allsortsofgeekery @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @ironwoman359 @a-valorous-choice @broadwaytheanimatedseries @sugarglider9603 @xx-fandom-potato-xx @mycatshuman @punsterterry @journalanxiety @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @elementalshadowwitch @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @thesassiersilv101 @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @chituri @dangerfishie @grade-a-trash-blog @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @llamaavocado @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @backatthebein @em-be-lievable @mephonic @impatentpending @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @book-of-charlie @ierindoodles @thatsthat24

#KDsWriting #Thomas in Wonderland AU #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #Logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #joan and talyn #emile picani #nate sanders #dragon witch #i'm super excited for this fic guys #ya girl is back at it #first fanfic of 2019

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rosedalemike · 7 years ago

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The Mood: Blog #11 “WTF is next, ROSEDALE?!”

I've had so many random ideas for what this next blog should be about. I wanna try to stay on track with the story of Rosedale's farewell/next chapter as that seems to be the most common topic with the lovely Rosedaliens that have been coming out to shows. But the truth is that I'm just as unsure as everyone else. I don't even have a clear vision of what I picture September looking like. I guess my plan in September is to plan what 2019 is going to look like. 2019 seems so much further than it actually is, I'm sure. The only things I'm sure of are that I would like to: 1: be a helpful contribution to music scenes (artists, venues, promoters, fans etc.) using more than just my own voice. 2: keep making new music under a different name (using my voice ...maybe some features...maybe a band? Who knows. I'd love for someone else to decide that.) 3: continue to work with other artists on their art and ideas. I know those are all vague ideas. And regarding the name delema; I have a giant draft email to myself (the most common email address in my inbox is [email protected]) that has a bunch of artist names and band names. Some are pretty good, some are not.

Self-Lyric Party:

" 'cause I live entirely for the self-satisfaction that I made this- I turn Whiter than a song in C as I watch the room empty No! Just press on, believe. My numbers are truly sad Tell me again; can I beat Quicksand? Yes I Can! " - Quicksand

As I check back to my last blog (to see how I quote/credit a lyric party...to keep continuity) I noticed that google placed a Chipotle add on the right side of the blog page! This is likely because I searched Chipotle at least 10 times in this past week. And that is because there is new company in the new Rosedale crew already and Chipotle sometimes hooks up traveling musicians with free food.

Her name is Siena. We all know Bryan, right? (cousin, hockey guy, #1 merch dude/email address collector...) Siena is the female Bryan. But luckily, she's not my cousin. I mean it'd be awesome to have known her all my life (like I've known Bryan all my life,) but for "heart-crush" reasons, I'm really glad she's most definitely not my cousin.

I met Siena at our San Diego show in November 2017. I say "our" because she's in a band called Going Postal, and they played that Soma show too. Like many bands today, they'll admit that their future is a giant question mark. But unlike many bands today, they sound awesome!

Check them out

.https://goingpostalca.bandcamp.com/releases

I call Siena "S Money" because one of her friends she was facetiming called her that and I, too, wanted to sound gangsta- "DJ $ Money" to be exact. Siena is finishing her final online college classes while traveling around America with me and selling my merch. When she's not selling merch she's helping me move my insane amounts of gear. When she's not selling merch and moving my insane amounts of gear she's teaching me how to promote in a more professional manner by helping me post enticing social media posts/stories/streams more regularly/organically.

Siena is a very kind-hearted, helpful champion that is way too chill to be so attractive. I just may be the luckiest Tall Canadian with Way Too Much Gear to have her on tour with me. After this tour she's moving to LA to become a world famous movie star so I only have about a month more of her awesomeness. She likes animals a lot, especially animal memes/vines. Mostly cats and dogs. So share/send any good ones and I'll make sure she sees them. (I'm also currently tethering off her wifi hotspot because all of Ohio's wifi is down right now.)

Now that I've made you feel warm with paragraphs of cute kittens and puppies and rock n' roll princesses and awesome music and free Chipotle and sharing wifi; I must reveal some bad news; MY BACK IS F**KED!!! I somehow slowly injured my lower back while walking down some rusty stairs at the wrestling ring venue in Benwood, WV last Tuesday. I was getting ready to catch a little light-up-with-movement Nerf football, moving no different than any human casually walking down a set of stairs- then all of a sudden I felt my back juice trickling into the lower center of my back. Don't be alarmed, this is not a career ending injury or anything. This actually happens to me every two years or so. And this time is not nearly as bad as the last time (when I was filling in for my Dad in his Canadian Tire men's hockey league and I casually skated behind my net to find out how 3 weeks of near paralyzing lower back pain felt.) It's funny; when people ask if I have tall people back problems and I'm not dealing with back problems at that given moment, I usually reply "nope". But as soon as I do experience my dual-annually (I made up that word...) back pain, I remember the last time I had severe back pain. So anyway, I had to cancel two shows and I'm not happy about it. It's getting better. I'm three days without pain relief meds. Stretching a lot. Rubbing Tiger Balm and Icey Hot every few hours. Just taking it easy in Cincinnati until Atlanta's show on Tuesday. That show is gonna be really awesome and there’s no way I’m missing it. I played drums for a band on Warped tour in Dallas too. That was pretty fun. I learned their songs in three days. They have a lot of air horns in their music so I went kind of overboard with the Roland Pad's air horn sample. (Maybe that's why they found a replacement drummer for Pittsburgh Warped.) It was fun seeing the Warped Tour for the last year and getting to play on stage again. We also went to the Cincinnati Warped Tour and learned what heat stroke felt like.

Enough updates on my odd summer. I'll wrap it up with some insightful life/music stuff as I'm hanging out with the infamous Alex Baker. https://alexanderbaker.bandcamp.com/ First though, his dad told us one of the greatest dad joke of all time:

DAD JOKE PARTY:

"I was trying to think of a good reason to go to Switzerland and then I realized the flag was a big plus."

But for real; we were talking about how things would be so different if we had just been understanding with our ex-bandmates in the golden years. We were all young and surrounded by the odd discovery of egos driven by art/success. Alex was in a band called Dewey Decibel https://alexanderbaker.bandcamp.com/album/the-dusting-dewey-decibel They had a fun indie style with a really organic, interesting production. Dewey Decibel recorded their album in their house in Nashville. From the sounds of it, once they started getting attention from NPR and local radio stations things started getting to everyone's heads.

It's not uncommon for a band to get along really well when things are on the up then fall apart when the going gets tough. The more I see it the more I understand the damage it did to Rosedale. But on the other end of that unfortunate reality is the fact that I never would have met Alex Baker if the Rockstar ego-turmoil didn't happen to Dewey Decibel and Rosedale. I probably wouldn't have met Siana (AKA DJ $ Money) either. I'm not preaching that everything happens for a reason. I'm just kinda preaching that if you take the inevitable destructive events in life and turn them into fuel to move on and stay positive, better relationships grow. And those relationships are better because you've grown and learned how to be a better person. So, like I keep driving home in all of these "Farewell Blogs", I'm looking forward to where things go. I'm happy I've experienced all the curveballs along the way to teach me how to eventually hit some home runs. I feel like I'm on the right track with these new friends that I've only met through grinding past the hard times and pressing on for what I had my heart set on. Do you ever think of how you came to know some of your best friends? Like what events led them/you there that day and how grateful you are for those events and the transparent friendships they created? I know facebook gives us the ol "5 years of friendship" tag or whatever. But sometimes I see those and think "ohhh if you only knew, facebook...me and Casey Phillips go WAY BACK!" Anyway that's all for now. If you've been thinking of meeting me or Siena or Alex Baker the best way/time to do it is to come out to an event we're at and experience some in person hangouts. This will be the last few weeks of touring for quite some time for me so really try to highlight these dates and make a solid effort to come catch a show. I promise you will not regret it.

UPCOMING SHOWS: 7/24 - Atlanta,GA @ The Masquerade 7/27 - Jacksonville, FL @ Jackrabbits 7/29 - St. Augustine, FL @ Sarbez 8/3 - Pittsburgh, PA @ Black Forge Coffee 8/4 - Niagara, NY @ Evening Star 8/7 - Brampton, ON @ Spot 1 8/10 - Charleston, WV @ The Empty Glass 8/11 - Myrtle Beach, SC @ TBA Then a bunch of East Coast tour dates.

#Rosedale #farewell #chipotle #touring #warped tour #blog #themood #dadjokes #backjuice #brokebackmike #atlanta #music #allages #shows #newmusic #hashtag #warpedtour #alexbaker

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mystupidoverwatchimagines · 7 years ago

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How Bad Can I Be? (6-Part Series)

Ignore Lorax reference it is not for this blog. So. The idea! I want to do a fun thing of our heros being bad guys. This is a good way to practice some angsty stuff. I am a proud member of the fluffy folk but... I also really like making people suffer a little bit (sadistic? Me? Whaaaaat? Noooooo.) So this is just where the favs are the bad guys (and for some the REAL bad guys)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN HOWEVER

My inbox doesn't accept asks or anon so you will have to send it to my personal messages. I'll be happy to keep you anon.

This is for Reaper, The Shimadas (together), Junkrat & Roadhog (together), Pharah, Soldier 76, and McCree

Reaper-- Manipulation

(Switching it up and putting him first this time)

° He couldn't quite put his finger on this situation as he wondered through the alleys of King's Row. He saw you up ahead, jumping over walls onto stairs and trying to get away from him. To give yourself some distance to take some shots, but you knew if you stayed to close to him, those shot guns would rip you to shreds. You were a young up and coming in Overwatch.

° Jackie's new favorite, he was sure. You were fast, intelligent, agile, and Gabriel had gotten all that just from watching you fight. He could only imagine what it would be like to see you in full action. Too bad he'd probably miss it. He repostioned to be following you through the higher buildings, but he somehow had lost track of you.

° You were hiding. Smart kid. He listened for any sound he could when he looked over his shoulder as he heard a click of a gun loading right behind him. And there you were. Standing with your gun aimed directly at his head. He turned slowly to look at you dead on(teehee), and he took in your face. You really were a young upstart. In your 20s. Early 30s at most. He watched as your chest rose and fell deeply, keeping a steady gaze at his mask.

° "Smart kid," he stated out loud this time, and you wanted to wince at that deep voice but you kept strong. You cocked the gun you held, knowing full well it wouldn't do you any good. Reaper was known for coming back from the dead. That was who he was. A whisper. A ghost. "I bet you're the new favorite of the Overwatch team," he hissed, raising his own guns to point at you. You kept your gaze unmoving but spoke back.

° "A lot of good that does for me today, right?" You retorted coolly. You knew this close range would kill you. He could tear you apart with just one shot. You knew better than to get so close to death but... Without Reaper there, the rest of his Talon team would fall. He was the muscle, without the muscle, the payload could move forward. Distraction. Distraction was the key.

° "And they're going to leave you here to make your sacrifice. Good to know things never change," he spat, inching closer to the end of your gun so that the barrel was touching his mask. "It could be different, though."

° "I'm not interested so you might as well kill me now," you chidded him, unable to help the sassy tone in your voice. You didn't really have time to care if you angered him, but you were caught off guard when you hard a dark laugh come instead of a bullet.

° "What would be the point in killing you?" He stated sarcastically, cruelly. You keep the gun trained on him but he put his guns away in a relaxed way, your eyes searching him up and down in confusion. "But I do have a deal for you." You stayed silent but your eyes narrowed to show you were paying attention. "Join Talon. We could use a little more muscle on the team. And with a little training... A few upgrades... I bet you would be... unstoppable."

° "Doesn't sound like much of a deal, what's in it for me?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, an unamused look on your face. He did the same, cracking his neck with a loud snap.

° "I'll let the payload through, pull the operatives out, your 'team' members make it through another day."

° "And if I refuse?"

° "I kill each and everyone of them, slowly and mercilessly. And leave you, the only surviving member. How do you think ol' Jackie boy would like that?" He asked, taking a clawed hand and lowering your weapon out of his face and putting it so it pointed at his heart. But you looked on in confusion.

° "Jackie?" You questioned gently, not registering the name and this seemed to anger him.

° "Yes..." He hissed but he spoke no more on the topic, the empty eye sockets on the mask looking into your eyes, "Do we have a deal?" He watched as you thought about his offer and looked over your shoulder as you heard gun fire and yelling ring through the air. You narrow your eyes in thought as you turned back to look at him. This payload was so important. You needed to ensure its safe passage. You lowered your eyes and took a deep breath. You finally lowered your weapon, relaxing your grip on the trigger.

"Yes," he stated gently, suddenly wrapping an arm over you, trench coat covering you and suddenly the both of you vanished into the night. However, the shooting did stop abruptly, and the payload did reach its destination.

--6 Months Later--

° "Y/N?" 76's voice reached your ears but you didn't raise your eyes to look at him, but your gun was raised, aimed directly between his eyes.

° You looked different. You looked... Scary. He remembered the bright young recruit they had brought into the fold, and it was you. But you... Had been changed. Your skin looked dim, eyes bright red with wires seemingly laced into your skin, connecting to your eyes. The edges were black, the veins around your eyes black as well. Some more wires were evident down the sides of your neck. Moira and Maximilen must have had big plabs for you. You were wrapped in black combat gear, the Talon symbol sewn into the arm. You...

° "You..." He stated, but his eyes weren't looking at you anymore, but to the ghost of a man who had walked into the scene. You shook your head.

° "Jack." You said gently, raising your eyes now, glowing red looking into him. Gabriel floated over to stand behind you, looking into the man of story, of legend as told by Reaper. You kept your gun steady as 76 moved his eyes to look at you.

° "What did you call me?" He asked harshly and you shook your head again as if confused.

° "You're lying to all of us. You never stepped up and took control. You left it to Winston. You could have helped me, you would have found me," you stated harshly, eyes narrowed as your chest heaved.

° "Y/N, he's filling your head with lie--" he started but you cut him off quickly.

° "Morrison its either you or everyone else. He said he would call them off if I killed you, and spare everyone else in Overwatch," you stated weakly, your anger falling and a sadness overcoming you. You lower your eyes again, as some tears escaped you. You felt a clawed hand on your shoulder and you shrugged it off angrily. You stand up straight and point the gun with more confidence at Jack's head, face looking stone still. Jack's face stayed hidden behind his mask up until this point, but he sighed in defeat and rose his hands and clicked off the mask. He removed it from his face, revealing a scarred face, the face of a man who had gone through so much. You look upon it in respect, nodding gently. You still had tears streaming down your cheeks as you cocked your gun. You look at his features, studying them.

° "You look like Gabriel," you stated gently, meaning the scars on his face. Jack laughed weakly.

° "No need to add insult to injury, cadet," he stated firmly, but he gave a smile, "Make sure its you that does it. I don't want that mistake taking me out," he added bitterly. You nod firmly and speak.

° "He made a deal with me. He said I would do it to save everyone else," you state honestly. You keep the gun aimed at him and you add, "Thank you, soldier. For everything." Jack nodded with a smile and he sits his head back against the wall. More and more tears stream down your cheeks as Reaper stood behind you still, watching on, behind the mask there was so much want to see this. So many years. And he got Jack's favorite to do it. He was taken back when a sob escaped your lips. You really were Jack's protege. Even though he had lied to you about his identity, you felt close to him. Gabriel felt a twinge of jealousy enter his heart. But as he heard you yell suddenly and loudly, screaming out your heart, your anger but the gun went off and Reaper sae Jack's blood splatter all over the wall. He watched as you fell to your knees, hands covering your eyes as you cried weakly. Jack Morrison, Soldier 76, Ex-Commander of Overwatch, was dead.

° Gabriel heard gun shots ring closer to where you two were and he called into the comm, "Move back, target down. Retreat and leave survivors." He quickly wrapped you in his trench coat and the both of you disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

#gabriel reyes x reader #overwatch gabriel reyes #gaberiel reyes #reaper x reader #reaper #overwatch imagines #overwatch

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secretradiobrooklyn · 4 years ago

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HALLOWEEN RADIO | 10.31.20

Secret Radio | Halloween special 10.31.20 | Hear it here.

Artwork by Paige, Liner notes by Evan except * means Paige

1. Sam the Sham - “Little Red Riding Hood” *

I had to make the case to Evan that this was a Halloween song, but I justify with the fact that 1.) this song uses the phrase “spooky ol’ woods” and 2.) many years ago, Sleepy Kitty played a festival on Cherokee Street that wasn’t a Halloween show but it happened to be the Saturday before Halloween. Recognizing our responsibility, we scrambled to throw together costumes and realized that if we just got a wolf mask and paws we already had everything in our wardrobes to throw together the Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs LP cover drawing of Red and the wolf. Evan says he doesn’t like Halloween but it’s only because once he commits, he commits completely. One of my favorite moments of the night was spotting Evan that night, several hours after our set in the afternoon, having a completely serious and sincere conversation with a friend – wolf nose and paws still intact. This was pre iPhone days, but I tracked down an image and I’m gonna put it on our fake radio insta. Thus, Little Red Riding Hood is in fact a Halloween song.

2. Roky Erickson - “I Walked with a Zombie”

Every year, reliably, Paige’s dad Ned tells us we should cover “I Walked with a Zombie,” and each year we somehow don’t do it. So this live version of the song is for him, just in case this is the closest we ever get.

Halloween tag

3. Steve Martin - Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack - “Dentist!”

Sure, an alarmingly large and hungry, sharp-toothed plant is scary. But is it as terrifying as a dentist who delights in the pain he inflicts? “I thrill when I drill a bicuspid” — shiver!

4. Hocus Pocus soundtrack - “Sarah’s Theme”

Our definition of a good Halloween movie is way less horrifying than it is lightly spooky, so “Hocus Pocus” is just about ideal for our purposes. This is the sound of Paige’s delighted Halloween youth… though we also just watched it again. Holds up!

5. The Beatles - “Mr. Moonlight”

Paige pointed out that this is essentially a religious song to the moon — a song of praise, devotion, and submission to a greater power.

6. Quasi - “Ghost vs. Vampire”

I know that Quasi has had a long and illustrious career, but my fandom is frozen at this pinnacle of mystical bummerness. I learned so much about being creatively sad from Sam Coomes.

7. Rocky Horror Picture Show - “Sweet Transvestite”

8. The Velvet Underground - “The Gift”

Didn’t realize this was a Halloween song until tonight. If Hitchcock is proper Halloween, which I vote a definite yes, then “The Gift” is ultra Halloween.

9. Bauhaus - “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”

I feel like I have to say psychic hello to my friend Joseph Grady, who first introduced me not just to the coolness of Peter Murphy but to the allure of vampires generally. I wore my nails and my coats long. We talked about what the vampires were up to that night. We had some truly perfect nights together.

10. The Bitter Tears - “Murdered at the Bar”

An invaluable prize from being in a certain scene in a certain set of years in Chicago with the School of the Art Institute crowd — grad and undergrad. We all loved this song, and 15 or so years later, “we all” turns out to be a very specific and much-loved crew of people I miss and love. Except for Chris Shea, who I love and get to hang out with here in the city. This song is for him especially.

11. Phantom of the Opera - Korean cast - “Point of No Return”

We had this epiphany accidentally. As I recall, we watched the movie version of “Phantom,” and I was distinctly not impressed, but then Paige put on the French-Canadian version and we were both fascinated by how different it was. That led us into Phantom Internationalé, wherein we just looked up versions from all over the world. It is amazing: each version is both militantly like and distinctly unique from the others. The Korean Phantom emerges as the most singular from among the versions we heard, and “Point of No Return” an emotional height.

Meet Me in St. Louis - “Tootie the Horrible”

One of the greatest Halloween scenes in the history of cinema in our book.

12. Donovan - “Season of the Witch”

13. “The Dweller of the Cave” * I Found this tape at my parents’ house this summer while we were delayed in Illinois between March and whenever the van got fixed and we drove back. Rediscovering this tape may be why you’re listening to this whole fake radio spooktacular tonight. Hi to Stewart and Jill.

14. Science Fiction Double Feature *

15. Dr. Who Theme Song*

16. Red Dwarf Theme Song*

The previous 3 songs were woven into a medley for Sleepy Kitty’s KMNR Freaker’s Ball. It’s one of life’s great pleasures for a band to play Freaker’s Ball, we literally wound around a wooded road to find some Elk’s Lodge or something full of college kids DECKED THE HECK OUT in EPIC COSTUMES ready to freakin’ get down. Never have I been closer to being the band in the prom scene of a 90s movie than at a Freaker’s Ball. We met some rad folks through the KMNR scene, and if I’ve ever told you about my custom vocal pedals, Colin of CroyTone Audio was one of those rad folks we met one of those magical nights. Also, raise your hand if your love Red Dwarf!

17. Ghostbusters

Paige: “I had this reflector, this flat reflector that was some scrap of something that Ned got from Honeywell. I would play Ghostbusters, and I was like: ‘This is a ghost trap.’ It was SO REAL to me. It was this flat reflector, like a bike reflector, and I would like, like, set traps. And I’d be like, ‘Don’t move my ghost trap!’ I would set the ghost trap, and it was like fishing for ghosts. But that was me playing. I would, like, wait. …I don’t know if it worked or not.”

“I’m not sure if this is me imagining this or not, but I’m pretty sure there was a day where I was like, ‘I feel like this trap’s not working.’ But I also feel like I was like, ‘But how would I know? They could be all inside. This is either full — or empty.’”

Vertigo soundtrack

18. The Fall - “Frightened”

“I don’t wanna dance, I wanna go home” — Fri-dund!

19. Goblin - “Zombi” Title Theme

20. Karen Elson - “The Ghost Who Walks”

I think we got this record at Third Man Records when we were playing in Nashville. Sean’s new residence!

Paige: “Karen Elson is tall, beautiful, an interesting musician, AND she has red hair. That’s crazy. What are the chances that you would have all of those things? Talk about a blue moon!”

21. Eartha Kitt - “I Want to Be Evil”

“The only etchings I’ve seen have been behind glass.”

22. Jeffrey Lewis & Los Bolts - “The Pigeon”

“Old skies you flapped through are no more.”

We would like to give a heartfelt hello to Yona Schimmel, mostly out of reach for now. We mourn every missed knish.

23. Scott Walker - “The Seventh Seal”

Paige didn’t know this was a movie, she thought this was just a cool song about a guy playing chess with death.

24. Groovie Ghoulies - “(She’s My) Vampire Girl”

I love that he puts two Bazooka Joe jokes right in the middle of the song.

25. Black Sabbath - “Paranoid”

Sometimes you need priests to summon spirits.

26. Fantasia - “A Night on Bald Mountain”

This is a song that seriously disturbed Paige when she was young. She thought that they did this whole demon thing every single Saturday. For me, it made such an impression that, when each of my young friends and I improvised who we were — “I’m Darth Vader!” “I’m a Cylon Raider!” my take was “I’m Night on Bald Mountain”! And I would open my arms wide and pretend that I was an entire sharp mountaintop transforming into a giant demon with wings, and I would always be the biggest and baddest and scariest creature of all, no matter what they thought. Bald Mountain beats Batman every time.

29. “Jump in the Fire”

Or as I say whenever the occasion warrants: “Jump in the show-AHH!”

28. Rogers & Hammerstein “Pore Jud Is Daid”

29. Barry Adamson - “Something Wicked This Way Comes”

I cannot recall what brought this album to my ears… I suspect it was something I got in my inbox when I worked at The Rocket. This whole album is full of heavy musical grooves and heavy mental movement. It’s a rare pleasure in

30. Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, “I Put a Spell on You”

This is straight-up one of my favorite recordings of anyone ever. And when I eventually saw it enacted in “Stranger than Paradise,” I was blown away by how fundamentally Eastern European it sounds. Every sound he makes with his voice creates new characters.

31. The Shining, “Midnight, the Stars & You”

Happy halloween my friends, I wish we were all at an otherwordly dance together.

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thejokersenigma · 7 years ago

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OC/Reader x Joker - Your Insane Part 3

Hi guys, sorry its taking me so long to get my writing out! My life feels really busy, and yet I'm getting nothing done!

So here is the next part of this series! I am hoping that the next chapter will actually have the Joker in it! haha

Hope you Enjoy!

P.S I would appreciate it if you would leave a comment or something! I feel like my inbox is pretty lonely and I want to know if I should continue this series!

Also, if you have a request just send me a message saying what you want and I'll happily give it a go! Any fandom is welcome!

MASTERLIST

I sighed heavily as I tossed another document on my pile of completed papers to my right before then throwing my pen down next to them and rubbing in exhaustion at my face. I was already feeling the effects of my very early morning start. I peered through my fingers at the rest of the large hall filled with other people’s desks, craning around my good ol’ pillar to get a decent view. Most of the desks were still empty, but the room had slowly filled up since I had arrived in the early hours and a few people milled around, in no rush to start the day.

I dropped my hands and turned my aching eyes back on the still-to-do pile on my left. It was smaller, but it was still going to take most of the rest of the morning at least. I had got here early in an attempt to catch up on the intimidating pile of work I had been so kindly given yesterday. I had hoped that the sooner I got this paperwork out of the way, the soon I could get onto something more excited – or at least the sooner I got some free time to dig further into this Joker character. Plus, there couldn’t be anything wrong with showing I was willing to work hard for this job - earn some brownie points.

Every time the main door opened I found myself glancing around the pillar at it, watching the officers come in for their shift. I tracked the newest man now as he made his way across the large room, I didn’t know the man’s name yet but my procrastinating eyes followed him anyway, until a woman crossed his path and my eyes shifted to her instead as she strode back the way the man had come from. She didn’t exit the precinct, instead she took a left and disappeared down a short corridor before I heard a quiet thud as a door closed behind her. Bingo. That had been what I was waiting for.

I didn’t get up immediately. I didn’t want to seem too eager - after all Hatty had clearly only just come in. Miss Hatty Hawkins, the keeper of the files.

I was getting fidgety as the minutes ticked by, I didn’t want to rush in there as though I had been waiting for her to arrive – although I had been - but I also knew I had a limited amount of time to get what I needed.

I left it 20 agonising minutes before I felt safe to ‘causally’ wander in to the file room.

“Morning Miss Hawkins.” I smiled warmly as she bent over her desk, gathering up a pile of files. She glanced across at me, still bent over.

“Good morning, Fran.” She replied back formally, though not unkindly. She was a polite, rule follower, never questioning what her duties were or how to do them. This might be difficult.

I waited until she had finished her arrangement and had straightened back up. “What can I do for you this early?”

I gave her a small smile at her observation, “I just need all the files you’ve got on the Joker.” I said.

Hatty’s kindly face clouded over, a slight frown shadowing her face. “You know I can’t give you those, Fran, you’re not cleared for them.”

“Oh, no I know!” I said quickly, a look of surprise on my face at the suggestion that I would want them. “They’re not for me, they’re for Detective Bullock.” I explained.

“So why isn’t Detective Bullock here, picking them up?” She asked suspiciously.

I raised a single disbelieving eyebrow at her, “Come on, Hatty.” I said, “It’s Bullock. I haven’t been here all that long, and even I know what he’s like.” Of course, this was all I guess. I hadn’t been at the precinct that long, but I knew the Harvey Bullock character and I could predict his behaviours just from the few brief encounters I’d managed to get with him.

Hatty grimaced at the truth in words, nodding her head from side to side in agreement before she headed deeper into the recesses of the room. I waited patiently at the desk as I heard filing cabinet drawers slide up and shut and the flicker of paper as she thumbed through the folders. Eventually I heard her heals clicking back down the room towards me and she emerged once more clutching a small stack of files.

“These are all the cases he has been associated with.” She told me, handing the pile over, “Bullock already has his general information file.” She pointed out.

I thanked her and headed back to my desk, trying to make sure I was walking like I wasn’t stealing criminal documents.

I got about an hour with the files before Bullock appeared at my desk. I was quite impressed, I thought he wouldn’t be in for at least another half an hour. Maybe he hadn’t actually got drunk last night – as hard as that was to believe.

“According to Hawkins,” He said as he strolled up to my desk, “you have something for me.” He raised his eyebrows in expectation. “That you should have delivered hours ago.” He added with a grumble when I tried to look at him with blank innocence. I rolled my eyes, clearly having been caught and gathered up the files, handing them reluctantly over. “Congrats on your initiative.” He quipped, grabbing the papers from me, “Next time work on your punctuality.” He began to move away but paused, glancing back, “And stay away from this case.” He said grumbled. “I’m sick of saying it.”

I smirked at his back as strode away. “Tough luck Harv, your punctuality was no better.” I muttered quietly to myself once he was out of earshot. If he had actually come to work on time, he might have been able to stop me, but, despite my short time with the random patches of information, I felt like I had gathered something – even if it was just a snippet. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to pull that move again.

Several months later, I might have forgotten the Joker if there hadn’t been several identical hits on hospitals, one a week after the first attack, then several more scattered through the last few months.

But there had been no new information. No new leads. No better idea of what he was after. No idea why he was doing this.

And me? The months I had been working here? All I had been given was more paper work than I had ever had during my years at school. It was getting ridiculous. I knew I was a rookie, but I would be a rookie forever if they didn’t let me get some experience out in the field. The most I had got was a short bought of traffic work a few weeks ago thanks to staff shortage. Admittedly, I would take that over the huge stacks of paperwork that always appeared on my desk each day, but I still craved more.

I continued to try to work hard on the papers – hoping somehow it would prove my worth to the precinct. But I could feel my fuse burning out, and I was beginning to procrastinate more and more, my mind still turning to the unsolved case of the Joker. I didn’t care that I wasn’t on it - I had made my bed with that - but I hated how long it was taking these well experienced, weathered police officers. Why hadn’t they found anything? Surely they must have had some break through?

Yet I had still heard nothing about it - and I was keeping all my ears out for even a whisper relating to this mysterious criminal.

And so, my mind kept coming back to the hospital attacks. There was something odd about it all. All the attacks had been the exact same. He always created an explosion in a storage cupboard, then vanished into thin air before anyone could get close, always leaving a calling card behind in the form of a joker playing card.

I pulled my head away from the page of work I had been trying to read whilst these thoughts turned in mind. I had no idea what I had just supposedly read, and I pushed the folder away in frustration. Why the hospitals?! I demanded in my head, staring at the pillar directly in front of my desk. The Joker had even gone back to the hospitals he’d already attacked, and, even with the increased security, he had done the exact same thing in each of the wings – always escaping before anyone could catch more than a glimpse of him. It was like he was toying with us – like he was finding some perverse fun from all of this.

But that couldn’t only be it. He couldn’t be going through all this effort for ‘fun’. Sure, I might believe the psychopath capable of that if it was a one off, or a couple, but this was clearly following a pattern and something about it felt strategic.

I grabbed a notepad and scribbled out a list of everything from the crime scenes that I could remember was the same. The bombs. The cards. The storage room. The disappearing act.

I tried to justify each other point: He had to disappear, or he’d get caught. Tick. He needed the bombs to create enough distraction to escape. Tick. The playing cards were just his calling card, his signature to say it was all his work. Tick. The storage room. Why always a storage room? Easy place to plant the explosives and camp out till he was ready to set them off? Tick.

I pursed my lips in frustration, before turning my attention to the single drawer in my worn little desk. I pulled it open, extracting a very crumpled, well used piece of paper. I unfolded it, reading the word I knew off by heart, the few scraps of information I had gotten from the Joker’s folder before Harvey had taken it from me, I had written it from memory, though I knew I was missing things.

Most of what I had read, and memorised, was on the effects of his so called laughing gas. It wasn’t much to help me to track him down, but at least it was some information. It mainly listed the different subtypes of the gas the joker had produced, and the varying effects they had on people - some knock outs, some poisons, some instant, some slow, and painful. All had the same characteristic signs – uncontrollable laughing and a permanent grin left on the victims face at death.

This gas was fascinating – as much as it was nasty. This Joker character was quite a chemist. But it made me wonder how he did it. What was this gas?

Wait. Of course. The gas was made of multiple different chemicals. That means that he’d need a supply. Maybe he got them off the black market - maybe he stole them. Both were just as risky as the other.

But where were there always certain gases? Especially knockouts. Hospital storage rooms.

But it was only a suspicion. I needed some proof. There was nothing to say that he was stealing gas canisters. He might have just destroyed them all in the explosion and I was completely barking up the wrong tree. Maybe I was just thinking too much. Maybe he was just insane.

I needed to figure out what was in those storage cupboards and what was in that laughing gas.

It didn’t take much digging to find out what was in each storage room of the hospital – anaesthetic gas canisters, pure oxygen and – surprisingly – nitric oxide. I frowned at this piece of information – a toxic gas in a hospital cupboard? - but after further research I found an article published by the medical researchers at the Gotham General Hospital that said there was new medical research that suggested poisonous gases such as nitric oxide could be used in small doses to aid the healing of wounds.

My next question was, what was in this Joker venom? I only knew one place where I might get this information.

I knocked on the doorframe of the open doorway to the police lab. “Hello?” I called into the empty room.

“Eh huh?” I heard a man’s voice call back from somewhere.

I stepped in, glancing around for the source of the voice, taking in the chemical equipment lining the sides and the locked cupboards of chemicals. I was examining what appeared to be a slide of blood when I heard a cough behind me. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

I spun around to see a man with shaggy sandy hair in a lab coat, his hands clothed and stained. “Uh, yes. I need to ask a question.” I said.

“Shoot.” He said, folding his arms and leaning back on the counter behind him, dangerously closed to a corker beaker of yellow fluid.

I folded my arms and leant back on the table behind me, mimicking his posture. “What happens if you combine nitric oxide with the Joker’s toxin?” I asked outright - no good beating around the bush.

“You mean the Joker’s poisonous gas?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep.”

The man eyed me suspiciously. He bowed his head before lifting his head to meet my eyes again. “Wouldn’t know,” He admitted. “No one know what is in that laughing gas.” He told “– except maybe batman.” He joked with a slight smile.

I played along, giving him a small smile. “What if I got you a sample?” I asked.

He frowned at me like I was joking. “Good one.” He smirked, “No one knows where his warehouses are or where he gets it from. It’s impossible to track down the source.”

“I can be very persistent.”

He quirked a half smile at me and I couldn’t help but think he looked pretty handsome, the light overhead catching in his curls. “You’re that new girl aren’t ya?” He asked, readjusting his seat on the counter.

“I wouldn’t say new anymore…” I teased him, “I’m Fran.” I said pushing myself off from the table, stepping toward the man and holding out my hand in greeting.

He smirked at my actions, before copying me, “Sam.” He said, gripping my hand firmly, but kindly.

I chatted with Sam for a while longer, though we didn’t touch any further on the Joker gas. I asked about some of the odd chemicals around the room and he let me rant about the frustrations of being confined to a desk.

I left the lab feeling slightly more cheerful – after all I felt I had finally made a friend at my work – though I hadn’t managed to get any further with my idea on the Joker’s toxin. I was however, still determined to get to the bottom of its components, even if I had to make the thing myself.

As I walked back to my desk I suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind and bring me to a halt, causing me to stumble back slightly. I glanced over my shoulder to the owner of the hand and came face to face with a familiar, rough beard and weathered features of Bullock.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, kid.” He warned, glaring down at me with suspicion in his eyes. “What did I tell you about digging into this?” he demanded, his tightening his grip and causing his fingers to bite into my skin.

I turned to face him fully, causing him to release my shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just chatting to Sam.” I said innocently, trying to ignore the ache left in my shoulder.

“Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been sneaking around and eaves dropping.” He snapped.

I knew he wasn’t buying any act of mine. “Look, Harvey.” I began with a heavy sigh, “I really think I’m on to something now.” I insisted, pleading with him to hear me out.

“He’s insane kid, he’s not up to anything.”

“He’s not though! Don’t you get it – it’s an act!”

He snorted dismissively, “And how do you know this, hmm? Do you know this freak? Are you buddies? ‘Cause if so, speak up, you’d be the key to finally catching that psycho!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. I did saying anything, lowering my head in defeat. Harvey saw he was winning and pushed on, “Now, that man is a cold-blooded psychopath who doesn’t do anything for any reason other than to cause chaos and suffering.”

“But he’s doing something behind all these hospital hits!” I insisted, “– there is a purpose behind all of them!”

“If there was, don’t you think we would have found it by now?” Demanded Harvey. “Keep your nose out of things you know nothing about and stay away from this case - or I’ll have you permanently benched by the commissioner.” He warned.

“You can’t do that!” I cried out angrily.

“No,” He admitted, with a tilt of his head, “but I can get you benched for at least the year – an uncooperating, disobeying, mouthy little rookie like you – easy to convince that you’d be dangerous sin the field.” He pointed out, “And I’ll just suggest that a little time out would be just the right thing to teach you a lesson - I’m sure my good friend Commissioner Gordon would agree.” He said slyly. I stared at him hard, trying to find the bluff in his words, but the triumphant smirk on his face made me know I wouldn’t find anything. I sighed heavily, feeling deflated and beaten. Harvey patted my sore shoulder heavily before beginning to amble off to his desk.

“Oh.” He called, stopping and turning back to me, “By the way, kid - stop showing everyone up with your speedy paperwork - no one likes a teacher’s pet.” I scowled at his back as he strode away, pleased with himself.

Now I felt really deflated.

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