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januaryembrs · 7 days

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Bugsy and Spencer tea!!

the one with the card counting | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: Bugsy and Spence quarrel while playing Old Maid

length: 700 wds

set in the trouble almost all my life universe

“Spence, I love you, but if you try card counting in Old Maid one more time, I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the flight,” Bugsy snipped, staring down at the man over their deck of cards, his hazel eyes narrowed and concentrated as he flicked through his hand. The joker card glared down at him from the dead centre, where he’d strategically placed it so she’d be more likely to take it when her turn came, though he’d been unsuccessful so far.

She didn’t need to see his lips to know he was chewing them in frustration, eyes darting between the pile on the table of already used hands, the rest of the deck they were picking up from, and how many cards she had in her hand.

“I’m not, and even if I was, it’s just math,” He replied in a defensive tone, knowing she’d already caught him out as he looked up at her, the red back designs fanning over her mouth and nose, though her annoyed expression was still clear as day to him. For a guy who rarely understood what people meant until they spelled it out verbally for him, Bugsy had always just seemed to make sense in his head, “I’m not cheating,”

He said it like someone who was trying to convince himself it was true, his eyes as innocent and none threatening as they would go, though he got that little notch between his brows that said he knew exactly what he was doing and felt bad for lying to her.

Huffing, she drew her cards to her chest and setting her elbows on the table, Hotch to her left with an amused smile drawing at his lips as he tried to catch some sleep on the way home from a case, though the sound of the two agents bickering gave him some inflight entertainment at least.

“Oh, really?” She asked, daring him to repeat himself even though saying it the first time had been hard enough, and Spencer simply nodded with a small ‘Mhm’, “Alright, smart guy, if we’re playing it like that then I’m taking this card,” Bugsy said, pulling the ace of spades he had sitting beside the joker with a pointed look on her face, “And the reason I want this one and not the one next to it is because I know that's where you put the old maid,”

Spencer swallowed, the tip of his nose turning a blush, as he grit his teeth together in annoyance, “I guess the joke is on you, Miss Prentiss. I don’t even have the old maid,” He said, forcing his voice not to quake, and he sounded somewhat believable, at least that’s what he thought until he saw her brow raise, and he knew he was fucked.

“Yeah? Government names is it?” She asked again, giving him chance to fix his error, only he doubled down with a second nod, his lips pursed. Her finger shot out to point to the joker card, where she could only see the intricate pattern that matched every other in his hand, “So this isn’t the Old Maid?”

Spencer blinked once, the two of them exchanging a heated look like they were waiting for the smallest of breaks in character, and his breathing even despite the fact it was under duress, his expression abnormally calm as the jet went entirely silent, “Yes,”

“Bullshit,” He quickly collected his cards to his lap and scrambled to shuffle them well enough that she wouldn’t guess which one was the dead card, his scowl spreading over his face.

“You cheater, you must have seen my cards, there’s no way to count where I put the joker, that is entirely by chance-” Spencer snapped back, flipping them between his long, lithe fingers as Bugsy giggled into her hand.

“Play nicely, boys and girls,” Rossi chided where he had his nose buried in the newspaper, only glancing up to see Spencer glaring at the girl who sat opposite him with a victorious smirk.

“Face it, Spencer Reid. You might be good, but I’m better.” Derek bit his lip to stop himself from laughing where he was eavesdropping on their game on the seats behind them, and he thought he might have to take it to his deathbed that he and the younger girl had swapped Spencer's cards out the second he went to the bathroom. Or maybe save it for a rainy day, when he really needed leverage against the stubborn girl and let them squabble in peace.

Bugsy didn't tell him until a year later, the week before she left for London.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #bugspence #matthew gray gubler x reader

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 months

Text

trading paper dolls

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T Word Count: 2228

Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.

“You even lookin’ at that paper? Ain’t seen you look at that paper in five minutes.”

Alex smiled to himself as he redirected his gaze to the sketch he was working on. Macon was right: he hadn’t been looking. He didn’t need to. He’d done half a dozen of these sketches already since getting forced into this camp and they were all the same—a collection of curves. Eyes, cheeks, lips. Shoulders, breasts, waist. Hips, thighs, calves. Little round rear, if the request came with a specification for that kinda thing. He had his style. He could draw pin-ups in his sleep.

“I thought your neck didn’t work,” he reminded Macon without twisting his own to look up at him in the higher bunk. “Guess it works just fine for snoopin’ over my shoulder.”

“‘Snoopin’’?” Macon echoed, sounding affronted. “Bullshit, snoopin’. Ain’t no privacy here to violate, Alex. You don’t want me to be able to see over your shoulder, you better go sit on the roof.”

Alex released a soft snort and kept sketching. His latest connoisseur of provocative art wanted a brunette. That was easy enough; Alex added a quick outline of hair—more curves—and shaded it in.

“You get tired of that?” Macon asked a few minutes later. Apparently, he’d abandoned the book Alex had brought him.

“Why, you get tired of the smokes these boys are payin’ me to draw ’em?” Alex shot back.

“Not drawin’—drawin’ that. Your little paper dolls.”

Paper dolls. Alex hadn’t thought of it like that. (He liked Macon too much to be insulted; even if he had been insulted, it wouldn’t be enough to put even the smallest dint in the loyalty they had to one another. Nobody was going to watch out for them like they’d watch out for each other.) The drawings were sweet, in a way, with the coy smiles and O’s of surprise on the girls’ mouths, with the way their delicate fingers twirled telephone cords and pressed with childlike thoughtfulness into their dimpled chins. They belied what the boys who asked for them claimed to want: somethin’ sexy to look at while they pulled themselves off whenever they were alone. Or felt alone. Or even felt alone enough.

No, Alex knew what he was really giving them: a little reminder of tenderness. Tenderness even above femininity, because only one guy had asked him to draw a gal in something see-through, another in a negligée (Like Rita Hayworth in Life, he’d said), and the rest had just wanted to see anything that wasn’t a uniform. Props? A tray of muffins coming out of an oven, a basket of kittens, a field of wildflowers. Things that spoke of home comforts and abundance, that evoked softness and pleasing scents. If these drawings of his were like paper dolls, it made sense, because the boys were playing with them—playing make-believe. And so Alex didn’t mind that he’d done six of these already. It made the white boys happy. It passed the time. It kept him and Macon in whatever pitiful item counted as a luxury on this day, this week. If Alex were to be here as long as some of the boys had been here already, he figured it’d help having something to occupy his mind.

“Not yet,” he said, and drew a pair of sunglasses dangling from the girl’s hand, then put a look on her face like she knew you’d watch her bend down to pick them up when she inevitably dropped them. “Anyway, what else would I draw?”

“Pin-up Hitler?”

They both cracked up.

“Alright, alright,” Macon said as their laughter trailed off. “How ’bout these boys?”

Alex lifted his pencil from the paper. That was another one done.

“Our boys?” he checked distractedly, examining his work.

In the silence that followed his words, he could just about hear Macon rolling his eyes.

“The boys in this bunkroom,” Alex corrected.

“Yeah. Think you could draw ’em?”

At this, Alex swivelled around to look at Macon, eyes narrowed and unimpressed.

“Of course I could, but I shouldn’t.” Expression clearing, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Don’t you want them to like us? Trust us?”

“Maybe I don’t like or trust them,” Macon replied. Alex sighed, then Macon added, “I never said show the drawings. Just do it for our entertainment, shit.”

“And what are you paying me in for this entertainment?”

“In the promise that I won’t snitch to the white boys that you doin’ pin-ups of ’em,” Macon said, chuckling.

Alex grinned and shook his head.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well, you know. If you ain’t too busy.”

They laughed harder this time, until Macon swore and laid back, rubbing his neck.

Alex did think for a while. He sat there thinking, then got up and walked over to the window to take a look at the bleak view as he thought some more, then sat again. His pencil was there on his bunk. He had more paper. The other guys from their bunkhouse weren’t about—walking someplace, or scheming, maybe. Buck Cleven had let Alex in on the general idea of a breakout, which was significant, but he knew he was still a newcomer, still on the outside.

It was that frustration that made Alex pick up the pencil. It was the fact that Buck had been the only one to initiate a conversation with him that made Alex choose him as his subject. He just knew his face best, had looked at it openly while they’d talked. Round eyes, full mouth. Not so different from his regular paper dolls.

When Egan and Brady wandered in, Alex calmly slipped the sketch of Buck behind the commissioned drawing of the brunette with the sunglasses. When he got the chance, he’d hide it someplace better, but he doubted there was a more suspicious group on earth than his fellow kriegies; if he tried now, it’d give them reason to distrust him, and if they discovered what he was attempting to conceal... it would be hard to explain.

He retraced lines he’d already drawn, darkened the girl’s hair. Brady and Egan were playing cards on the other side of the room. Alex was thinking about casually lying back and pulling out a book he might tuck the drawing of Buck into when DeMarco swung through the doorway and announced Nazis were ordering men out of the neighbouring hut to toss the rooms.

If he hadn’t had to help Macon down from the higher bunk, Alex might’ve had time. If he could’ve done more than flip the pages over, they might not’ve been noticed. If he hadn’t submitted to Egan’s authority as a superior officer and let him be the last out of the room, ensuring the rest of them got out safely, Alex might not’ve worried as he stood outside in the cold, waiting for Egan to follow them out. Waiting, it seemed, for too long before Egan stepped out and the Nazis shoved past him on their way in.

When it was over, Alex walked back inside to find that one of the pages he’d left on his bunk was no longer there.

—

Bucky leaned against the side of the hut, fingering the folded paper in his pocket. He’d creased it in half quickly, and the edges didn’t line up, giving his fingers something to worry as he stood there, mind swooping and turning like one of the planes the man to whom the paper belonged flew.

It hadn’t been nosiness driving Bucky across the room once DeMarco, Brady, Jefferson, and Macon were out. It hadn’t been mere curiosity. Bucky knew Buck had spoken to the new guy, Jefferson, about helping them work out the topography surrounding the camp. Bucky’s fear, when he saw those pages left behind, was that one of them might have featured some kind of map. And then all their gooses would’ve been cooked. The Nazis would’ve known they were thinking of escape more seriously than a distant fantasy that involved a place to get a steak dinner instead of the crap food that barely kept them alive. Rifling swiftly through Jefferson’s pages was self-preservation—the preservation of the whole group of them. Bucky hadn’t expected to find what was now in his pocket.

Looking at it made him less sure of how to feel, and so he kept teasing himself instead, stroking the edges of the page without taking it out of his coat. Part of what he felt was relief; since it wasn’t a map Jefferson had been drawing, there had been no close call. It also meant Jefferson wasn’t stupid, hadn’t left anything so valuable, so incredibly damning, sitting out in the open like a present for their jailers. But that line of thinking got tangled up with another of the emotions the paper provoked in him: impulsive, hot-headed fury that Jefferson would do a thing like that, would draw Buck like that. Bucky wanted to demand Jefferson tell him who the hell he thought he was to put that down on paper. Only, a confrontation would’ve escalated immediately into a scene—Bucky didn’t trust himself to handle it coolly, not this—which would likely mean having to explain exactly why he was so angry with Jefferson. Buck would see the drawing. Onlookers would see a fracture in their group and think they were weak. It was no fucking good, and so Bucky stood there touching the paper until he couldn’t stand it any longer and, after glancing up and down the corridor between the huts, slipped the page out for further scrutiny.

It was a good likeness; Bucky had known it was Buck right away. If he fought back all the other complex feelings he had about it, he could appreciate that Jefferson had a talent. Bucky cast his gaze around again, then permitted himself to enjoy the drawing on the basis of its artistic merit alone. That was certainly the shape of Buck’s face. Those eyes could belong to no other. He could see what Jefferson had intended with the pose—Buck’s chest thrust forward, his ass pushed out—but it wasn’t as exaggerated as many pin-ups Bucky had seen, and there was still a recognizable Buck-ness in the set of the shoulders, the way the forearms crossed and rested on the bent knee. Jefferson had put Buck in the room they called the library, one of Buck’s shoes planted on a chair as he stared unflinchingly at his observer, those eyes that could belong to no other set in the face with a shape Bucky knew well. And the mouth. The mouth was unmistakably Buck’s too. Like this, Buck could acknowledge what a pretty mouth it was, how swell it would’ve looked on any female pin-up model, but how right it was on the face of his best friend.

Bucky swallowed and refolded the paper. He undid his coat just enough to stuff the drawing into the breast pocket of his shirt, a little closer to his body, a little more secure, he told himself. He possessed no plan for what he’d do with it. Buck, of course, could never see. Jefferson sure as hell wasn’t getting it back; Bucky decided that having to wonder what had happened to the drawing would have to be sufficient punishment for having the nerve to do it in the first place. In a tight moment, Bucky knew he might have to eat the paper. He might have to chew and swallow, forcing Buck’s confident stare and plump lips down his throat. He would hold this depiction of Buck inside himself, break him down and digest him. No one could take it from him. No one would know.

He sniffed and flicked a finger across the end of his nose. He strolled along in the shadow of the hut and, just before stepping out into the pale winter sunshine, pressed his hand to his chest over the place where the drawing rested. No one would know.

Conscious of the need for his shoes to not wear out in case the ideal escape conditions presented themselves, Bucky kept his steps light as he crossed the dirt yard. One of the guards was watching him and Bucky offered a sarcastic smile.

“Beautiful day, huh, Fritz?”

He kept walking until he found Buck. It seemed he was always walking until he found Buck.

They were not yet out of things to say to one another, and there were always new silences to not fill. They could talk close—what petty grievances did they have about the smell of Crank’s socks, the way Murphy had started chewing his fingernails?—and they could talk far—making up baseball scores for the teams back home. Bucky was comforted by their talk, by the undemanding presence of Buck at his side.

Buck was talking to Jefferson, and when Bucky sidled up, he slung an arm around Buck’s shoulders, feeling the paper in his pocket crumple slightly. He looked at Buck as he carried on speaking like Bucky was no interruption. He watched Buck’s lips move, listened to the low, slow, sure sound of his voice. Feeling Jefferson’s eyes on him, Bucky shifted his gaze and stared back. I’ll keep your secret, he told Jefferson with a lift of his eyebrows, and you keep mine.

#my writing #MotA #Masters of the Air #Alexander Jefferson #Richard Macon #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #John 'Bucky' Egan #Bucky x Buck #MotA fic

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girasollake · 2 years

Text

bothering me | e.m.

gif not mine, got it from pinterest

pairing: eddie munson x reader (using ‘you’)

requested: yes

type: angst, pure angst

summary: eddie starts being distant from the reader, when you finally confront him, he explodes and tells you it’s because you’re too clingy

warnings: curse words, idk kinda toxic relationship vibes?

a/n: i’m trying to stop using pronouns she/her and they/them in my works and just putting ‘you’ cause it’s suitable for every person, i hope you guys will like it!

word count: 1,127

‘Sooo… movies at my place tonight?’ You whispered into Eddie’s ear when you had finally found him next to his locker.

‘Sorry, I’m busy.’

‘With what?’

‘Stuff, (Y/n). I don’t have to tell you everything all the time.’

‘I know but I’m your partner and I thought that being in a relationship means telling each other what we’re doing.’ You looked down at your shoes. ‘Especially when we want to avoid a date.’ You mumbled quietly enough so he wouldn’t hear it.

‘I just can’t tonight. Maybe some other day, okay?’ He asked and turned his head towards you.

‘Yeah sure.’ A forced smile appeared on your lips.

You turned around to look at the school clock on the other side of the corridor.

‘The class starts soon, can you at least give me-‘ You turned to Eddie again but he wasn’t there anymore.’…a kiss..’

You sighed and started walking towards your classroom.

Did I do something?

Maybe he’s cheating on me?

Am I not good enough?

Every possibility for his behaviour circled in your head but the one that caused it. You were sitting in your desk, listening to the boring lecture about reptiles, with your pen scribbling some shapes on the back of your notebook. You started thinking about Eddie and without much thought you drew his portrait on another blank page. Smiling to yourself you signed it ‘for my pretty boy x’ and decided to throw it into his locker when the next break approached.

You were proud of that piece and thought that maybe it’ll show Eddie how much you think of him and he won’t be such a dick anymore. Because let’s be honest, leaving you alone at his locker without saying goodbye was rude, at least to you. When you threw your drawing into his locker you thought that maybe after he sees it he will come running to you, apologizing for being so distant. But he didn’t. You didn’t see him that day anymore and you came home in hopes of him calling and guess what? He didn’t call.

For the course of next week you’ve been trying your best to get his attention in every possible way. And every time he just brushed you off like you were nothing, he didn’t even mention anything about your drawing. After he hadn’t even looked at you on Friday you decided it was enough. So you stormed to his house as soon as you had finished your classes. Your fists were quickly hitting the door of his trailer. After a few seconds Eddie opened them for you.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked confused.

‘I wanted to talk to you, can we do that?’

‘Sure.’ He mumbled and signals for you to come in.

‘What do you want to talk about?’ He sat down on his bed while he was looking at you intensely.

‘Your behaviour.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ He huffed.

‘You’re distant.’

‘You’re imagining things, (Y/n).’ He chuckled and readjusted his sitting position.

‘Eddie, you’ve been avoiding me for the last week all the fucking time. I am definitely not imagining things. Especially after today, have you noticed you haven’t even looked at me today?’ Tears were filling up your eyes.

‘That’s bullshit, I am not avoiding you.’

‘But you are!’ You stepped closer to him. ‘Why? Do you have someone else?’

‘No, (Y/n/n). You know I don’t.’ He mumbled and closed his eyes.

‘They why are you doing this? Why are you behaving this way? Do you have problems at school?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Eddie for fucks sake, then why are you so-‘

‘Because of you!’ He stood up and faced you. ‘You are all over me, all the fucking time. And I know it’s a good thing but it’s bothering me. It’s bothering me a lot. It’s like you don’t have any friends beside me, you don’t even let me breathe (Y/n)! Wherever I go, you’re there. Whenever I have some quiet and peace, you show up!’

‘Isn’t that the point of a relationship?’ You sobbed.

‘No! Not when I can’t do shit without you! Not when you’re touching me all the time and breathing down my neck!’ He turned around and sat down on the bed again.

You were standing there in shock, scared to say something back to him. You didn’t think your love language could bother him. You showed your love through touch and through quality time, what was so wrong with it? And Eddie never complained, he always had told you how nice your cuddles were, how he loved holding your hand. Maybe it just became too much for him at one point? You wanted to tell him you’ll take things slowly and you won’t push. You still loved him and wanted to comfort him, make him feel better. You carefully sat down next to him, his hands were holding his hair on either side and he was looking down at his boots. You slowly put your arm around him in hopes to give him a loving hug and show him how much you care and that his outburst didn’t change anything. You thought he would accept your touch but you were wrong. He quickly pushed your hand away and looked straight into your eyes.

‘What have I just said?’ He snapped.

You looked down at your shoes feeling like a scolded puppy and then scooted over to the other side of the bed. You were both sitting in silence for what felt like eternity and when you finally stopped thinking about the argument you had, you stood up and walked over to his desk. You took a piece of paper and a pen and started writing your message. You thought it was the best way to tell him something without him getting even more mad at you, you didn’t want to risk saying something wrong. When you finished the note you made your way outside of his trailer and back to your home.

Meanwhile Eddie was still sitting on his bed, thinking if he did the right thing. He didn’t want to lose you, of course, but this was just too much and he exploded. He looked at his desk and stood up to see the note. He took it and small tears fell from his eyes.

I’m sorry Eddie,

I know that you probably hate me right now and I’m sorry that my actions made you angry. I didn’t know that all of this could bother you and I want you to help me understand, when you’re ready that is. Just call me or come over and we can talk this out in peace and even if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I’ll understand. I’m sorry again.

Love, (Y/n)

support me - comment &/or reblog!! thank u🫶🏼

taglist: @r93339 @stvrdustalexx @cursedandromedablack @ccosmic-illusion @luvwanda @justice4lils @heizenka @wolfstarsimpxx @miss-bloodbath @screambih @lyntic @freeshavocadoooo @naturalswifty89 @bvmbshell @alainabooks143 @squidwardsluverxx @phantomxoxo @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @stilesks @ilovedilfs32 @kaitlin-r130 @greengarsstuff @axen-gers @088i880 @ilovefictionalbrunettes @ofherscarlettwitchways @bookfrog242 @imhereforoscarisaac @hawkins-hs

#imagine #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson boyfriend #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x nb!reader #eddie munsonxreader

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nearest-dearest · 1 year

Text

The Painting

You don’t really know what Frank is so stressed about, painting can be relaxing. Julie shares your sentiment. That’s why she encouraged the entire neighborhood to get together to ain’t or draw something. And what better place to look for references than a beautiful garden? While Julie’s garden would be great, Julie and Wally insisted that it should be yours. Due to Julie wanting to change the landscape of her flowers.

Your garden It is then!

Julie argues that your garden is bigger too. And you couldn’t really disagree with her when everyone practically still had elbow room, and they’re only in the first part of the place.

Everyone took their time to complete their pieces. Choosing different flowers to serve as their muse. Howdy drew a caterpillar among the roses, Frank wanted to paint the butterflies, Julie wanted to paint a cute little spider she found, and the rest chose a flower to paint. Including you, but the flowers are only the second subject of your painting. For you decided to make a painting with everyone involved. Flowers would surround the neighbors while they have happy smiles on their faces.

You initially wanted to paint Wally, but your brain stopped you before committing that ultimate mistake.

A shameful, ultimate mistake.

First things first, you have to render the focal point of the piece, so you started painting everyone’s faces, starting off with Poppy’s.

“And done!” Wally announced “(Y/n)? May I get a second opinion?”

Wally asked, seeing as you’re the only with him in the second garden. You paused your painting for a moment to take a look at Wally’s painting. You could use the break too anyways. You turned to see Wally’s painting and gasped. Wally had painted himself a self portrait. With impatiens balsamina or touch-me-not flowers surrounding him.

“Wally! This is amazing!”

The colors Wally had chosen were beautiful, complimenting each other very well, making the painting pop with life despite being a still image. But there’s something there. A small detail, but it still caught your eye.

“You painted yourself frowning?” It wasn’t really a question, it was a fact. Wally had painted himself with a frown. A stark contrast to the warm and vibrant colors he chose to paint with. Wally gives a small laugh.

“Forgive me for the dampen move, but I just thought it would be nice to do something different. But rest assured, I’m not sad. There’s nothing to be sad about anyways.”

The look you gave him shows every word you wanted to say without speaking it. Wally didn’t need you to say that you don’t believe him. You always wore your emotion on your sleeves, quite different from how Wally would do. But the moment he felt your hand be placed on top of his own, he couldn’t help but show a little red in his cheeks.

“Is something wrong Wally?” You asked.

And Wally felt himself grow warm and fuzzy. Like a nice little fire place during winter. Even more so when he saw that you hadn’t removed the red string on your finger. The concern that everyone expresses for Wally when something is wrong, is nothing compared to the way you expressed concerns for him.

He didn’t know when he started feeling this way towards you. It just happened one day, and ever since then, he gets butterflies in his stomach whenever he’s with you. And oddly enough, Wally doesn’t mind that feeling.

Maybe that’s why he felt the need to be vulnerable, but he wouldn’t allow himself to do that. So he only chose the half truth.

“It’s nothing to worry about (Y/n). Sometimes I just feel a little lonely, and I wanted to try and get it out of me through painting. And I think it worked, I guess.”

Wally can be an impeccable actor at times, that’s how he can make faux smiles even better than Sally Starlet. What he can’t fake was the surprise he felt when you finished your painting and then gave it to him.

“Here Wally, for you.”

Wally took the painting and now it’s his turn to admire your skills. There’s a few mistakes but it’s all overshadowed by how you chose to use the impasto painting technique for the flowers.

“(Y/n) this is lovely! But why give this to me?” Wally asked.

“So you and home won’t feel lonely!”

Darn, that gesture is so sweet it’s admirable.

And Wally turned from a pale apple into a full blown ripe red apple.

An entertaining sight for the whole neighborhood, hiding and watching the scene before them.

“Ha! I win, cough up!” Julie cheered, all while Frank had a frown as he begrudgingly gave away his one piece of candy.

#wally darling #wally darling my beloved #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally x reader #welcome home #digital illustration #fanfic

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writing-till-i-am-dead · 2 months

Text

Laigan oneshot

(I’m just having fun with these ship names now)

Ashlyn stepped to the front and clapped her hands. “Ok, so.. my parents have been saying that in order for us to survive, we need to work as a.. team.”

Taylor tilted her head. “Don’t we already?”

“Apparently bonds formed only from trauma aren’t strong enough.”

This seemed to blow everyone’s minds as they all said, “They aren’t?”

Ashlyn shook her head. “No.. so, I’ve decided we are going to split into teams of two by having three people draw one name from a hat.”

Ashlyn turned and picked up a baseball cap filled with torn papers.

“So, who will be drawing names?”

Taylor, Aiden, and Ben all rose their hands.

Aiden jumped from the bus seat bounded forward excitedly as he drew out a name.

“Let’s see.. LOGAN!”

Logan damn near fell out of his seat as he exclaimed, “HUH?!”

Aiden plopped himself right next to Logan and Logan tried to make himself as small as possible in his seat.

Why did it have to be Aiden?

Logan would’ve taken Ashlyn, or Ben, or Taylor, or even Tyler’s aggressive attitude!

He slowly turned to face him and give him a friendly smile.

Aiden smiled back and Logan felt his blood run cold and he quickly turned away again.

Why is he so creepy?! he thought anxiously.

“So, uh, Ashlyn!” Logan blurted out. “What sort of team building exercises are we going to do?”

“Well.. my dad said that in his time in the military, the best way to form bonds is helping each other in life or death situations, and having heart to heart conversations. And, well, we already have the first one down.”

Everyone looked a little confused. “How are we supposed to have those just.. casually?” Tyler asked as he sat next to Ben.

“I don’t know!” Ashlyn exclaimed. “That’s just what he said!”

Everyone looked awkwardly at their partner. Well, except Aiden. Logan was pretty sure it was impossible for Aiden to feel awkward.

“So, um.. Aiden.. you like.. dangerous stuff?” Logan asked, trying his hardest to keep himself from freaking out.

“Ya! Haha, one time I jumped off a ski lift. The way my ankle snapped was so weird, but also funny, haha!”

“Oh, um.. ya.. haha..” Is he purposefully trying to freak me out?! What the hell?! Someone help me!!! “Um.. well.. one time I was on a hike with my family with our dog and he ate some oleanders.. that was pretty messed.. haha..”

“Oleanders?” Aiden asked, suddenly seeming genuinely interested.

“Oh.. um.. they’re these really toxic flowers. They can cause irregular heartbeats. And seizures. My dog had a really, really bad seizure after eating it. He just kind of.. flopped around before he dropped dead.. haha..”

Aiden’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat after a moment. “Descriptive..”

“Huh? Oh! Uh, I’m sorry! I, um.. I didn’t really think about it!”

“Ha, it’s fine, man, don’t worry about it!” Aiden said, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulder. “You got any more stories to tell?”

“Oh.. uh.. oh! So, my aunt works at a hospital and one time she was babysitting me and I had to go to her work. And this patient had burst into the hospital, vomiting everywhere and passing out. He had eaten a death cap!”

“A death cap?! That sounds so cool, what is that!”

Logan wasn’t even aware of the proximity of them, or the fact that he was talking to Aiden. He was just excited to talk about things that interest him.

“They’re these very poisonous mushrooms. They cause nausea, low blood pressure, and vomiting. The mortality rate for eating them is at 30%!”

Aiden seemed a little let down by that number. “30%? Really? What’s the most poisonous mushroom, then?”

“Oh, um.. the death caps are..”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s it? Man, that’s just so low..”

“You.. want more people to die??”

“Well, no. But it just makes it more interesting, doesn’t it? Kind of like the same morbid interest of watching true crime..”

“I guess I understand?”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“Do you know all these plant facts because your grandparents are florists?” Aiden asks.

“Oh, ya..”

Aiden smirks. “Kind of like how they got us access to drugs?”

Logan’s shoulders jerk up and he quickly gets defensive. “H-hold on, it’s not what you think! They were just able to get the drugs because they have poppy flowers which are used to make opioids! N-NOT THAT THEY MAKE OPIOIDS OFTEN, OR EVER!”

Aiden burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he fell out of his seat. “Oh! Oh my gosh! Your face! Haha!!”

Logan’s face went red and everyone turned to look at them, curious.

“Ummm, A-Aiden.. it wasn’t that funny.. haaaa..” He grabbed Aiden’s arm and pulled him back into the seat. “Quit being so loud!” he said quickly, his face bright red.

“You quit being so embarrassed all the time!” Aiden countered.

“I-! Ughh.. Aiden..” he whimpered, covering his face.

“Pfff.. cmon, Logan. Keep rattling on random facts about deadly plants!”

He still seemed hesitant before saying, “Have you heard about the Sandbox tree?”

“Oh? No, I haven’t!”

Logan smiled, knowing this would be right up Aiden’s alley. “Their seeds.. explode!”

Aiden gasped. “No way!”

“Ya!”

“How dangerous is it?”

“Pretty dangerous. It can severely hurt humans. Not to mention that it’s poisonous all over.”

Aiden burst out laughing and pat Logan’s back. “You know what I like!”

Logan laughed along with him as he rattled off more plant facts. Eventually plant facts moved facts about how deadly space is.

“They actually have no idea how black holes function?! Movies lied to me!”

Logan snickered and nodded. “Same here!”

“What do you think happens? When you enter a black hole?”

“Hmm..” Logan thought for a moment before saying.

“You’re lost in a void. There’s no up, there’s no down. There’s no escape. Only fear and loneliness and existentialism as you stay there forever. Your cells won’t age or change.. so for eternity, you’re stuck there, never able to achieve freedom…”

He looked up at Aiden, who seemed very, very surprised.

“O-OR, UM… maybe you just come out on the other side! I-I dunno, haha!”

Aiden chuckled and shook his head. “You have some pretty dark thoughts. Just different from my kind of dark. I like it, though.”

“Y..You do?”

“Ya! You should say more stuff like that. It’s really interesting!”

“I…”

“All right everyone!” Ashlyn exclaimed. “It’s getting late. Cmon, we don’t wanna fall asleep on the bus.”

Aiden stood up and held out a hand to Logan. “Cmon.”

Logan was surprised by Aiden’s genuine friendliness before smiling back at him and letting him help him up.

“I think today was really a smart idea, Ashlyn,” Aiden said to her.

Ashlyn nodded. “Glad to hear it. My dad will be proud of us, I think.”

Logan smiled at that. Proud of him…

#Sbg #school bus graveyard #Logan fields #logan sbg #aiden clark #aiden sbg #webtoon #oneshot #fanfic

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miss-celestia13 · 10 months

Text

Silver and Gold

Fluffy JakexMC One Shot

Words: 1.8k

On Friday, I posted Jake and MCs first real date. And after that date, they spent the night together. But I left it to the imagination as I planned to write the scene at some point. That point was today. I can’t hold onto anything to save my life, so with the fear of you getting sick of the sight of me, here it is.

Super soft, fluffy, and sweet smut. It is not explicit or graphic. The focus is on emotions and love, all the things Jake thinks and feels. It’s very different to my usual kind. I wanted to try my hand at the softer side. It’s more akin to a weird poem than smut, to be honest🤭❤️

The date that led to this - Sweeter Than Fiction

Jake

He never saw the end of the movie. Finally relaxed and settled in his own skin, they’d camped on her old, worn couch and watched some 80s horror movie. But she was very distracting. She was a warm weight pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder and hand curled into his shirt, twisting and clenching during tense or dire moments. When she looked up to gauge his reaction, his face heating as she caught him staring, he didn’t question the urge and kissed her before he could second guess it. Her little hum of contentment made him smile into it. Something akin to anticipation was heavy on her tongue as she surged up and pressed closer, her hands glided through his hair.

This kiss was different. He could sense it like a current in the air, thrumming quietly under the beat of his heart. It was leading somewhere, and he was very aware of it as a tingling sensation trickled down his spine, and he was warm all over like he’d been dipped into a hot bath. Soft breaths were shared between two lungs; the air she gave him was sweeter than any honey. Lust and passion were two different things, and he understood why now. Lust was a flimsy, impermanent, and hard-to-control thing. What was left once the lust burned away? But passion was felt to the marrow. It was a want, no, a need to love and give love in return, to feel and declare that love without words. Lust you could walk away from. But he could never walk away from this, from her.

She parted from his lips with a breathless little murmur and looked at him through hooded eyes, trust flashing in their depths as she said, “We can just go to bed, Jake. Say the words, and we’ll go to sleep.”

His chest was tight, and the nerves he thought would be present were decidedly quiet, allowing him to choose for himself for a change. He shook his head, “No, I don’t want to sleep.”

He didn’t see her grin, but he tasted it briefly as she kissed him once and got to her feet, hand held out for him to take. Sliding his hand into hers, Jake rose to his feet and let her lead the way to her bedroom. His racing heartbeat set the pace of their feet like the heavy drumming of rain beating on a window, and he thought it would deafen him if it kept going. In her room, he shut the door behind him and watched as she backed away smiling, her fingers trailing out of his to fall at her side. The dark of the room eased him enough to stride to her, lift his hands, and rest them atop her shoulders. He turned her around and gathered her hair in hand, smoothing it over her shoulder so it wouldn’t get caught in her zipper. A tremor ran through his hands as he slowly, painstakingly drew that zipper down, the sound almost violent in the silent room, and trailed a line down her bared spine with the tip of his finger to make her shiver as the dress slithered down her arms to pool at her feet.

Drawing a deep breath, he swallowed hard and shook his head, unsure how to proceed until he shut off his brain and listened to his instinct. It had not forgotten how to do this, and neither had he. He unfastened the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor to rest with her dress as she turned around and swiftly began undoing the buttons to his shirt, peppering each inch of newly bared skin with butterfly kisses. Cataloging what made her sigh and what made her tense, repeating the things that made her twitch impatiently. It took longer to undress than he remembered. They couldn’t stop touching and tasting, memorizing each new part unveiled with lips and fingers. Soon, all that stood between them was hesitation, and he was all done with that.

He cupped her face in both hands, seeing a spark catch quick and hot in her eyes before his mouth was on hers. Her arms wound around his waist, pressing flush against him; she made a slight sound of impatience that made him smile as he backed her up to the bed. Heat glittered through him as she broke away with a sly smirk and fluidly draped herself on the bed. No shame or fear marked her beloved face as she spread dimpled thighs and beckoned him over. Silver glimmered and gilded her body, soft peaks and valleys illuminated by strands of finespun moonlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, the shadow filling in where the light couldn’t reach. And it was all for him. The thought was almost enough to knock him over.

Blanketing her body with his, he stopped worrying about doing things right and started doing what they needed. Heat, glorious heat, was a song in his blood, and he had never heard it’s like. Electricity zinged through his veins as he coaxed gentle moans and murmured sweet nothings that made her grasp at his shoulders. All he could do was hold on as she pulled him inside her body and locked her legs around his waist, overwhelmed and utterly entranced at how perfectly she fit him and he her. Each caress ignited a storm of sensation, heat, want, and love and an incandescent glow brought forth by the scrape of her nails down his back.

Love might be a flame, but he burned brighter than wildfire as she came alive under his touch. Shifting, sweat-slick bodies, moving and tangling together and clinging desperately, every touch and reaction a question and an answer he hadn’t known was missing. Skin to skin, sharing all of himself as she gave all of her in return, trusting each other with the parts of themselves they hid from everyone else, and he couldn’t look away from her eyes. Seeing everything he felt reflected back in that cherished gaze and the words they’d only said in a message spilled free of his teeth.

“I love you, all of you. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything. I want to make you happy.”

She arched as he moved within her, sealing his words with a starving kiss as she shuddered beneath him. He could feel her desire and how deeply his words affected her with every shift of her hips or soothing touch of her hands on his back. When he let her breathe, she wasn’t content to let him believe even for a second that he couldn’t make her happy.

“You already do. Every day. I just need you…I love you too.”

“You have me. You always did.”

More silver lined her wonderful eyes; he felt like he could sink inside and drown in them as she pulled him down to drink from his mouth. Time had long been his enemy; he never seemed to have enough of it, and when he did, he could never trust it. Not now. Time didn’t matter; it spooled out endlessly like someone unraveled a skein of wool, and every languorous movement seemed to last an eternity as he committed the feel and taste of her to memory. Pleasure cascaded through him, electrifying, and beautiful as it burned away the last of his doubts and filled him with unwavering gratitude for making it through hell to experience heaven. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so deeply moved by another person, like part of him had shifted irrevocably, and now she had made a home there. He never wanted her out.

Gasping airy breaths, clutching hands, and shaking legs, they fell together. Not with a scream or shout. But with a whisper of relief and joy that echoed in his ears long after it faded. Her soft purrs and contented hums as he buried his face in her neck to anchor himself with the fragrance of her skin were all he wanted to hear from her. His scent had blended with hers, a perfume of musk and salt, sweet and spicy, that he drew into his lungs to steady his pounding heart. He could feel every beat of hers, as wild and frantic as his, and smiled as he counted them to calm himself. He didn’t know what to say when he finally lifted his head, roused by her carding her hands through his hair. His tongue felt heavy and useless, but she shook her head before he could get annoyed with himself.

“Shh. No brooding. Not tonight. Just hold me until I sleep.” She whispered, smoothing the crease between his brows away with the pad of her thumb.

Nodding as she unlocked her legs around his hips, he rolled onto his back, dragging her with him and settling her over his chest. Her leg crossed his thigh, and she flung her arm around his waist as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Unable to stop himself, he lifted her chin with his index finger and kissed her so gently she trembled. She was like a rainstorm contained in human skin, and his house of cards had tumbled down the moment she arrived in his life. Shaking him out of a false life and bringing him into a true one. Neither had known then what they’d come to mean to each other, but he’d always known she was different. No one had ever held him so enthralled before her, and now he was glad of her obstinate refusal to let him run the show on his terms. Hated it at the time, but he saw how empty he had been then. Now, he was so full of her and the life they wanted to create together that there was no space for emptiness.

As she fell asleep, he thanked whatever force had guided her to him and promised to never take her for granted. She was it for him. He hadn’t even been looking for her and wouldn’t have known what to look for if he tried, but he was grateful all the same. Humans were fashioned for love. He thought himself immune to or above it. But he was still human no matter how hard he tried to switch it off, and it was both a gift and a curse to know love. For once it’s gone, how did one go on? But if it stayed… that was even more frightening to think of, but it excited him more.

He couldn’t wait to see what became of them as they grew older and their love with them. It already felt impossible to contain. The future only looked golden to him as sleep lured him under, and his last thought wasn’t one of frustration or disappointment. He’d felt it for a while but now knew it to be true. He found his home. Home wasn’t a place; it was her, and he silently vowed to always protect it as he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! And if you like, comment or reblog, thank you for that too. I appreciate it more than you know. I hope you enjoyed your time reading my wordy attempt at a softer smut scene 🥰❤️

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justallihere · 3 months

Note

Thoughts post my rereads:

She was not a thing—not something to be acquired and used. When had she stopped fighting Xaden on that?

She wasn’t sure she did. All the quiet, intimate moments between them—she had to wonder now if they had been authentic; had to wonder if he’d done it just so she would trust him.

I love our look into Violets thoughts and feelings surrounding Xaden’s betrayal. She put herself out there for him, intentionally or not, and all that trust and vulnerability wasn’t returned and manipulated.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want this to be real. She was tired of facing things—tired of having to be what others expected of her, tired of always doing the right thing. She was just tired.

You characterize Violet’s exhaustion and anguish so perfectly. I also broke down crying reading this, it’s such a relatable feeling. The way Violet feels so violently (hehe) yet her brain keeps spinning to problem solve is so well done. Bravo!

“I need to talk to Xaden.”

“Fuck Xaden,” Rhiannon said harshly. “He married you just to sacrifice you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Lies, probably.”

Your honour, I love the Rhiannon defence squad.

“I just need to talk to him,” she said.

She needed—she didn’t know what. To see Xaden’s face, to hear his voice. She needed the confirmation from him that this was truly what he’d always intended for her.

I love that we see Violet’s need for information here but we also see that she’s starting to need Xaden as well. That she has started to rely on him for comfort, even if it’s just subconsciously. I truly, truly love how you’re depicting them falling for each other. Especially as later we see:

She hated him more than she ever had, and still not enough.

She knows that Xaden has wormed his way in no matter how mad she is.

Liam’s face crumpled before he caught himself and smoothed out his expression. “No. Of course not.”

Liam—Liam she still didn’t let herself look at.

Liam paused, looking at her imploringly over his shoulder, but she didn’t acknowledge him

Sometimes I feel like the Liam/Violet falling out and reconciliation is going to hurt me more than the Xaden/Violet one.

“You can elaborate on that,” she said, “or we can find out if killing you really will destroy us all or just inconvenience Sgaeyl for a day or two.”

“This my power, my signet, my body—my fucking choice. You tried to make it for me, and I should kill you for it.”

Violet drew back her fist and punched him in the face.

THAT’S MY GIRL ❤️‍🔥🗡️

“Because you did this. You married me, you brought me here, you handed me a crown, and you planned to use me as a weapon this whole fucking time. So now you’re going to deal with the consequences of your actions and look me in the face and explain to me exactly what all you’ve lied to me about.”

“Fuck, do you really think I’m such an awful, heartless person that I could take care of you and hold you the way that I have and it means nothing to me? Do you think you mean nothing to me?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe you.”

“Yes,” she said. “Alone.”

Welcome to your bed Xaden, you can now lie in it (or maybe not) 😅

“Every time you’ve held me, have you—“

This line really hit me because we know Violet is drawing parallels to Dain here. 😩

He pinned her leg down hard with his own when she tried to wiggle it free. “Don’t do that,” he said, strained.

“What am I thinking right now?” Violet asked tauntingly.

His gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth, and then lower. “You really want me to guess?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” he murmured,

They’re so horny for each other I love it.

I know I said in my A03 review that I want Xaden on his hands and knees (and I do) but I truly do love that you depicted him NOT apologizing for his actions. What I really want to see is Xaden recognizing that Violet doesn’t trust him and working to fix that, which I think we saw a peak of in this chapter. Looking forward to his POV to delve more into his thoughts and feelings around the whole situation!

Once again your chapters always outdo themselves. You’re a brilliant writer Alli, I truly appreciate your dedication to delivering us amazing content every week. Thanks for keeping me fed! 💞

Thank you so much!!!

I feel like Violet straight up just isn’t over shit enough in canon. I want her to just throw the biggest fit in the world, she’s tired, she’s been tortured, her boyfriend lied to her, her brother lied to her, everyone wants something from her, and she’s never as mad as I think I would be in her case. I just needed her to scream and cry and be TIRED. And in this chapter she definitely is

Violet trusts Xaden far more than she wants to, but she does need him in a lot of ways. He grounds her because he’s never coddled her

Violent Violet is the best Violet!!!

I think you’re the first person to point out how horny they are for each other in this one 😭 I mean they always are but to be horny in the middle of a fight?? Married idiot behavior

We will definitely see intentional Xaden and Violet working their shit out moving forward. She asked for honesty so she’ll get it

🩷🩷🩷🩷

#storm in the quiet

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bellamer · 2 months

Text

Drew Pickles and Dillanne. Pickles was hard as fuck to draw and I am terrible at drawing kids so like Dillanne didn’t come out perfect either but there

More things about her and her relationship I guess:

- When Dillanne was born, Charles searched for her other father and found him in hopes of convincing Pickles to give her to him, making the other father sign an NDA and then paying him off to take care of the problem (it took forever for him to warm up to her since he kinda has a job to make sure accidental babies can’t stick around) . Only to find out that her other father had been killed a week after sleeping with Pickles when a Duncan Hills Coffeehouse was struck by a massive earthquake that killed everyone inside. The man also had no other relatives they could pawn her off to.

- When she gets older she develops kiddie glaucoma at around five and instead of letting her straight up smoke like Pickles did as a kid, Charles manages to convince Pickles to let her ingest just a little tiny bit of an edible that’s just enough to lower her eye pressure because for some reason Dethklok’s scientists can’t find a cure for glaucoma.

- When Dethklok is drinking and partying, when she’s not with her Klokateer nannies, she likes to sit in Charles’ office because it’s quiet. He’ll give her a coloring book, some graham crackers and a juice and just let her sit there because she stays quiet

- When she’s older she gets home schooled for security and safety reasons because who knows what dark organization is going to try to kidnap her or something.

- When she was one, she once managed to wander outside towards a pack of yard wolves and when Pickles’ noticed she was gone and had made her way outside, he saw red stuff on the grass and he thought his daughter had been mauled to death by the yard wolves but no, the yard wolves were being friendly with her and the red stuff was a jelly packet she had grabbed from the kitchen and the yard wolves were licking it off of her.

- She’s used as another reason by Pickles’ parents as to why he’s a failure since, he’s a single parent because, in his mom’s words “At least Sethy is married and raising his child in a two parent household !” when Seth is always out drinking and partying in Australia and Amber barely looks up from her phone to pay attention to the kid. And even though Pickles dotes on his daughter Molly still considers him a failure because he’s a single parent.

- Her favorite uncle is Skwisgaar because, in her words, “Uncle Skwis looks like a princess”. Skwisgaar absolutely hates it but cant say no to her when she asks to play Princesses. He reluctantly agrees but only if he gets to be a Queen instead of a princess

- Toki is her second favorite uncle because he always has toys in his room and is willing to play with her.

- Nathan is her third favorite uncle because he’s tall and lets her ride on his shoulders. It got her to stop crying when Pickles was hungover and she ran away from her nannies and bumped into him. Now it’s just their thing.

- Murderface and her have a strained relationship because he absolutely doesn’t care for kids at all but one time when things got a little too rowdy at a meet and greet (she was there because her assigned nanny was violently decimated at that nights concert) unruly fan broke through security and managed to touch her and Murderface was the one to punch the fan in the face and get her away. So he cares a little.

- Despite the older family members issues, she’s actually pretty chill with Seth’s kid, who I have decided to name Cody. At family gathers she and Cody don’t have issues despite her grandparents treating him better than her because in all honesty, Cody doesn’t care for his Grandma’s constant doting and finds it annoying.

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse oc #metalocalypse fanart #metalocalypse headcanons #pickles the drummer #pickles metalocalypse #charles foster offdensen #charles offdensen #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #toki wartooth #william murderface #seth metalocalypse #seth’s kid #amber metalocalypse #trans pickles

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aprocessionofthoughts · 8 months

Text

To sink or swim

whumptober2023 day 10- stranded fandom- Danny phantom x dc TW- panic summary- After a portal spits Danielle out onto an abandoned island she has to try everything she can to get back home.

ao3 masterlist

Danielle had been exploring Europe when a natural portal opened up in front of her. She was flying too fast to stop or turn and so tumbled through it, landing roughly on the ground on the other side.

She groaned and rolled over onto her back. The sky was clear overhead and she didn’t hear the sounds of people nearby. All she could hear were birds and ocean waves. She grunted as she sat up and looked around. It looked like she was on a beach.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to visit Stonehenge another day.” She huffed, brushing sand off her before freezing for a moment and then going intangible. Sheesh, forgetting powers was supposed to be Danny’s thing, not hers.

“Okay, a quick trip around the island to find out where I am and then I can head out.”

The island has a small mountain at its center which she avoids. It has bad vibes. But the rest of the island is your typical deserted tropical island. This of course gives her no clue which direction she should fly in.

She glances around but there isn’t any other land visible. Flying up and looking at everything from a higher perspective doesn’t change that. Though she thinks she spots a coral reef circling the island.

The sun is still pretty high up so she figures she can just pick a direction to fly and eventually she’ll come across some land.

But as she gets farther from the island she starts to feel tired and her limbs start to tremble. She almost falls into the water before she decides to head back.

She collapses onto the beach, panting. “What in the world?” She waits for a few hours till she feels back to normal before picking a different direction to fly.

The same thing happens.

“Uggh.” She collapses back into the sand. Whatever. She’d just explore the mountain. She flew in that direction ignoring the apprehension she felt as she drew nearer.

A cave was easier enough to spot. Maybe too easy. But whatever. She started to notice a glow up ahead. Sunlight? No. It looked wrong. Even as Ellie grew more apprehensive she kept approaching. It felt like she was being tugged towards the center of the mountain.

And then she was at the opening of a giant chamber, illuminated by a glowing green pool that was large enough that Ellie could hardly see the other side.

It looked like ectoplasm but felt wrong. It felt rotten. It prickled at her skin, yet at the same time seemed to draw her nearer.

She stumbled back struggling to look away. Finally, she turned and flew out, collapsing back on the beach.

What was that?

She shivered.

She had to get out of here. She flew up. If she was high enough she could probably get out of range of whatever was keeping her from flying too far.

Then she slammed into something solid and barely managed to keep herself from falling from the sky. She looked up and noticed a strange shimmer in the sky.

A ghost shield? But that didn’t make sense? Why would there be a ghost shield way out here? And yet, no matter where she tried, whatever it was kept her from flying too high.

Fine then. She dove into the ground, and immediately she had to pull herself back up. She gagged and shook, her skin covered in a thin sheen of the rank ectoplasm.

What was this place?

She pulled herself into the cover of the trees and huddled by the base of a trunk. It was getting dark. She’d keep trying in the morning.

Before she could fall asleep, she looked out over the ocean and noticed a faint green glow coming from where she thought the coral reefs were.

A familiar green glow.

Ectoranium.

She started to shake, glancing around widely. And now that she looked everything felt wrong. The birds had too many eyes, the monkeys hadn’t even made a sound and their fur shone slightly purple, the plants were weird colors too and moved in a nonexistent breeze.

Oh, Ancients.

Where was she?

What hellscape had she landed in?

She was trapped.

Stranded on an island that pulsed with rank ectoplasm, surrounded by ectoranium.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted to go home!

#whump #whumptober 2023 #no.10 #stranded #danielle phantom #dp x dc #danny phantom fanfiction #lazarus pit

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esta-elavaris · 8 months

Text

Flufftober Day 27: Outdoor Event ~ Cullen Rutherford/F!Inquisitor [1,526 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Evelyn’s sense of satisfaction over just how nicely they’d managed to clean up Skyhold was dampened around the exact moment Josephine deemed it good enough to throw its first ever soiree. But her arguments that the roof could, and absolutely would, cave in any minute now fell on deaf ears – especially when Josephine informed her that what she had planned would take place in the gardens, anyway. Cullen’s dry addition that he wasn’t sure the sky was too structurally sound either, however, did draw a laugh out of her – which, in turn, drew a smirk from him when Josephine’s back was turned.

Ever since her near-death experience back at Haven, he’d been more…warm with her. Not that he’d been cold beforehand, just more tentative. That one night had shown them that there was little time for that, and the result was that they were driving everybody in the castle mad with whatever was blossoming between them. For they could not rush this, either.

In the end, Josephine proved a formidable opponent, and Evelyn found herself trapped in the gardens one brilliant summer day, decked out in a gown of white lace with an entire greenhouse’s worth of roses atop her head. She had to admit the finished effect was rather fine. And that opinion was reinforced when Cullen entered the gardens, caught sight of her, and stopped short in the doorway, staring as though stunned into stillness. He only moved when one of the guests stuck in the hallway behind him complained – and even then, he only looked away long enough to side-step his way into the garden without bumping into anybody before those golden-brown eyes of his were once again fixed on her.

She smiled, although she couldn’t do so too smugly, for he was not the only one staring. While Evelyn had been privy to the argument between he and Josephine as to whether he could wear his armour to this thing – and Josephine’s adamant insistence that if he did, it would have all of the guests worried that he suspected another attack from Corypheus was eminent – she never could have guessed that he’d come like this. Like…like one of the heroes from the novels Cassandra thought none knew she read.

Garbed in a dazzling crimson coat, a slightly darker gold-embroidered waistcoat beneath which covered all but the collar of the white linen shirt beneath, and dark brown breeches and boots, had she not known him, Evelyn wouldn’t have questioned it if she’d been told he was a neighbouring prince or king or some such thing. Although given her experience with nobles and royals, she was rather glad he was not. Even if the King of Ferelden had eventually written to apologise for his foul mood at Redcliffe.

“See something you like, Inquisitor?”

Sometime during their staring contest, Varric had materialised at her side and was now offering her a very self-satisfied smirk. She started, and then recovered quickly, looking away and snorting.

“Shut up.”

“Now you sound like the Seeker. I have to say, I do feel like your beau stole my look.”

“Not enough chest on display for that, I think.”

“Much to your devastation, I’m sure,” Varric teased.

“Did you need something, Varric, or did you just come to poke your nose into my personal life?”

“The latter,” he admitted happily. “I was going to ask if either you or Curly had made a move yet.”

“Excuse me?”

They hadn’t – neither of them. In Evelyn’s case, it was because she was the Inquisitor, and that technically made her Cullen’s boss. It would be inappropriate if she…well. And he hadn’t because…well, she didn’t know why. But she was sure he had a very good reason.

“I’m curious.”

“Varric, if you’re writing a book about us, I swear-”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Listen…there may or may not be gold on the matter.”

“On whether we’ll-”

“On when. There’s no if about it.”

“You’re betting on us?”

“Only within your inner circle – you have my word that beyond it, we’re all very professional and we dutifully pretend we have no idea what all of the talk is about.”

Evelyn groaned. “Who? You, obviously. Sera, I’m guessing. Probably Dorian, too, because he’s been very curious lately. Are there any others?”

“Just one.”

“Bull?”

“Nah, he won’t have anything to do with it. Unprofessional, unfair advantage, the whole deal. Although he did hint that he’d be open to advising bets if we sweetened the deal.”

“Blackwall?” she guessed.

“Please, he’d fall on his sword before he speculated on the infallible Inquisitor’s love life,” he shook his head, as if disappointed in her thinking.

“Who, then?”

“I think answering would put my life on the line.”

Only two people in Skyhold could have him saying such a thing, and Cassandra would never involve herself in something like this.

“Not Leliana?” she stared in disbelief.

The dwarf grinned.

“She had none of Bull’s qualms about unfair advantages. We had to add the condition that she wouldn’t use anything her spies saw or heard, but she still sees everything the rest of us don’t when that War Room door closes behind you.”

“Yes, because that’s the perfect setting for us to start stripping off,” she responded drily. “Leliana and Josephine could spectate. Offer constructive criticism – that sort of thing.”

“Now you really are giving me ideas for a book.”

“Varric.”

“I’m only teasing, Inquisitor. It’s good, you know. Seeing you get caught up in something not all about death, demons, and the end of the world for once.”

His tone took on such a tone of sincerity at the end that she found herself stunned into speechlessness – until finally, she breathed a quiet laugh and nodded.

“It is nice,” she admitted, albeit very quietly.

Even out here, in a garden full of guests vying to take the measure of her, along with hoping for a chance encounter that may lead them able to boast to their connections that they made Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan laugh with a clever joke, when she was off to one side trading glances with Cullen, she simply felt like a woman getting stupidly giddy because the man she liked smiled at her.

But, of course, the presence of the guests couldn’t be ignored for long. Varric had scarcely left her side for ten seconds before she was drawn into conversations that either treated her as an authority on the Maker’s will (which she found horrifying), saw her recounting her recent brush with death (again, she wasn’t a fan of that), or reciting what she’d learned of Skyhold’s origins and speculating on details of its architecture (which was…interesting, actually).

The sun had climbed high into the sky before she got a moment’s respite, bathing the gardens in golden light and warmth that should not have been possible this high in the mountains. It only added to the sense that there was something not entirely natural about this place. Whatever it was, though, it felt benevolent. Everything did, after the ruin of Haven.

She sought the shade under the gazebo, half-lamenting that she’d been too busy playing host to engage in more staring contests with Cullen – who was now woefully nowhere to be seen, perhaps having retreated to his tower after showing his face – when a hand touched her upper arm. Proper Inquisitor-appropriate smile already rising to her face, she turned and then felt the smile brightening and becoming sincere quite of its own volition. The man she’d just been thinking of stood beside her, holding a silver goblet of wine in offerance.

“You look like you could use it.”

“Not a fan of the ensemble Josephine and Leliana put together for me, then?” she teased lightly, accepting the wine and nodding her thanks.

“No! I mean yes, I…Maker’s breath- I didn’t mean…not that…” he trailed off, sighed, and then regarded her openly. “You look breathtaking, Evelyn.”

Her eyes widened before she could stop them, and he winced a little, folding his hands before her.

“I, er, apologise if that was too intense.”

“It wasn’t, Cullen,” she said quickly, “not at all. I was…thinking the same thing.”

Of course, then it was her turn to ramble nervously.

“About you, I mean – not myself. I’ll need a few more titles under my belt before I reach that point.”

He chuckled, his shoulders loosening as the nerves slipped away. “Well, should you reach that point I could hardly fault you for seeing things as they are.”

Evelyn smiled, ducking her head if only so that the rest of the garden wouldn’t see how she blushed.

“I actually came to see if you wouldn’t be too worn out to have dinner with me – later, after this. In my tower. I thought it might be a nice way to decompress.”

When she lifted her head, her cheeks still blazed, but she didn’t care.

“I’d love that. Maybe then I can ask you whether you’d rather Varric, Leliana, Sera, or Dorian won a hefty bag of gold.”

Although when she then realised she’d have to explain that remark, she did rather regret bringing it up in the first place.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta’s flufftober ‘23 fills #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #flufftober #Cullen Rutherford/f!inquisitor #Cullen Rutherford/f!Trevelyan #Cullen Rutherford fic #dragon age fic #dragon age inquisition fic #dragon age fanfiction #dai fanfic

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qwesty-030 · 10 months

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BRINKER HADLEY DESIGN

agagagagag

okay time to introduce my Brinker Hadley design now 😃

I drew this probably 6 months ago if I remember correctly. The sketches are messy and the picture quality is so bad but yk if it gets the idea then it’s good enough lol

read more below to see my thought process >:)

My thought process :p

pre-plan:

Before i design characters, I like to write down whatever features they have. And i also like to consider how his personality traits and other activities affect the way he dresses which im sure everyone does when they design a character lol.

The main points i wanted to get a across is that he tries to act very mature and has a professional manner. He’s charismatic, very upfront, and he always got a plan.

He’s well dressed, a leader, very buisness or man type vibes, probably looks up to notable politicians, very involved in school, could honestly be in student council. And he’s the embodiment of law and order 🗣️🗣️

he could honestly be the embodiment of winter, cold and invasive.

dresswear:

compared to Gene and Finny, Brinker is a lot more well dressed.

He makes sure not a single dust is on his suit. (he probably has a dust roller somewhere). Everything is always in place and organized

I made his hair very slicked back cuz he wanna looks professional. And like Gene and Finny, his hair is inspired by actual hairstyles from the 1940s :)

And ofc I also gave him Devon’s signature uniform.

Physique:

to line up with Gene’s description, i made his eyes brows like straight lines. and also THICK

very pointy nose cuz he’s so dang nosy 🙄

it’s not visible but I tried to give him a strong jawline and defined cheekbones. i guess just reiterate his masculine features

i do not have a full body drawn so u can’t see his dumpy 😔

also i noticed how bored Gene sounds whenever he describes others. Is not in the same admirable way where he describes her intricate detail of Finny’s physique. He describes Finny like “oh my gosh his body shines so spectacularly in the light that you can see the outline of every muscle and facial features smile. his short brown hair shines with gold and his eyes are burn like green fire.” and there’s Brinker and Gene is just like “his face consists of straight lines 😐”

Rough Drafts:

Below are a few rough drafts I made playing with different color schemes and all that.

I was gonna give him glasses but it just wasn’t working out so I ditched them completely

I was ALSO gonna give him jet black hair but no one really has natural jet black hair. it didn’t fit well with the navy blue Devon uniform 🤷‍♀️ so I ditched the black hair too

i tried my darnest to make sure he does not look like Gene or Finny. I lowkey suffer from same-face syndrome and yeah 💀 I am quite proud of my Brinker design B) and I should try drawing him more

Honestly I think I’ve only drew Brinker like 3 or 4 times and that’s about it 💀

that’s all

have a nice day everyone

#asp #a separate peace #guh #oh wait the big text is supposed to be the title?#dreedraws

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starres-stuff · 9 months

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FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 10 | Writer's Choice: Enigma

Today's story revolves around Dimitri's sister, Viviane, as she reflects on parts of her past and sets her sights on her future.

Enigma- Something hard to understand or explain

It was a quiet night at the Amethyst Shallows where Viviane had found herself. It was the first sign that Summer was coming to an end. The parties had dwindled, the parents with their children as well and it was rare to see a couple curled up on one of the lounge chairs forgetting that the world was around them. As beautiful as she found the silence, it was also a time that always felt bittersweet.

Down she sat in her favorite spot, an area with a ledge that allowed her to kick off her shoes and dangle her feet into the water. She spent so much time here over the last cycle or two that it was often where she ended up when she needed to think or just wished to be alone for a while Today was different though, she had been working on her choreography for an upcoming show when the nostalgia from the material she had been working on finally took a hold of her.

So much had changed in her life since she first left Ishgard, the scared and scarred woman that she was then. It was difficult at times to actually look back to her past without worrying that she was going to draw something from it to the present. Things were not the best then and the road she walked wasn’t always the smoothest that roads could be.

Tonight she found herself thinking about performing, and those she had met along the way. She had earned the title through a lot of hard work and discipline, but it was what many called her now especially on the Stage when she was playing the part of Mysteri L’etranger, her alter ego. Truth was Vi never thought that she would be as successful as she was as a Performer, nor did she think she would ever make the five cycles she had performed and she found herself wondering what had happened to those who taught her how.

She still remembered each of them fondly and often closed her eyes before she went on stage to envision her old troupe and the way they all cheered each other on. It was one of the most memorable times of her life, Cherry Blossom, was her name then. Each member of the Troupe had been named after a flower of their choosing to hide their actual names and affiliations. The sad part of it for her was none of them had ever gotten to know her as she was today, the Elezen who had many illusions and faces.

Mysteri was are you always a different race the question had been asked so many times now. It was part of her act she had told them, a way to keep people guessing and part of the Enigma she had become. Who would she be when she stepped on stage? For the longest time, no one could answer that question, and most of the time she didn’t know herself. Each face she had taken over the cycles had been a piece of her struggle to survive.

There in the water, she found herself, her long red curls that bounced at any movement, her bright sapphire eyes that seemed to glow in the encroaching dark, and her pale skin that made her feel as if someone could see through her at this time of the day if they looked hard enough. It had been such a long journey to this point where she looked in the mirror and always saw herself looking back instead of someone else. The anxiety was almost gone now, the worry that someone from Ishgard would recognize her had evaporated and the confusion about her identity after she obtained her freedom from the lambs was almost settled as well. So much trial and error had gone into who she eventually became but for the first time in her life, she was free to be that person.

“If only I could find him and thank him,” Vi muttered to herself as she opened her silver cigarette case and drew from within a cigarette that she placed between her lips. She had been hunting for the mysterious Dragoon who carried her safely to Ishgard from Corethas since she first arrived in the Shroud. Missive after Missive had been sent to the Office of the Knights Dragoon inquiring who had run rounds in that area during that time and each time she received a reply We are sorry Lady Jienuex no such person existed that we know of had led her to wonder if it had all been nothing more than a fever dream yet, in the end, she remembered the armor, she remembered the crunch of the snow under his feet, the clang of his lance on his back and most vividly the way he carried her as if she was fragile and precious right to the guards at the gates of Ishgard.

He was the reason she ever made it to the stages of her dreams, for all of her visions had shown that she would meet her end cold and alone in a building that could barely stand on its own. She was not meant to survive those days after the Calamity struck. Nymeia had promised that for her crimes she would be forgotten and left to freeze by the very people who had kidnapped her. Then he came, and somehow he changed that fate. There was nothing she wanted more than to thank him for her second chance at life and each time she stepped on the stage along with the others she left a silent thank you for him as well. He was an enigma just like her but like her, she hoped that someday he would emerge from his shadow and take off his mask.

In the time she thought of those of her past the Moon had risen high above her head and the silver light streamed from the sky down to dance along the surface of the water catching her eye and making her smile. Her life had changed so much over those cycles, but nothing like it had in just this last one. Her days were filled with wonder now and her heart was filled with love. So much good the nameless Dragoon had done, he would always be her Warrior of Light, whoever he was.

Grounding out the cigarette on the bottom of her shoe, she placed the last pieces of it into the pocket of the sweater she had thrown on, on her way out the door of Qiha’s studio Then she collected her shoes from beside her holding them in her hand. Being an enigma wasn’t a terrible thing, but at the same time, it kept people at arm's length, something she had begun to regret as of late. She no longer wished to be hidden in shadows. They had been her shelter that she needed in order to heal from everything, but even the best armor eventually rusted and then you needed to make changes as you designed a new set.

That was the next leg of her journey, and while that thought scared her it was one that she would meet head on with a smile. After all, she couldn’t be Mysteri L’etranger forever, performers did eventually get old and end up with painful joints from their antics on stage, it was time to start laying down the foundation for the next leg of her life. She had a few good years left in her on stage, but more and more she heard Ishgard calling her name again and there was an offer on the table that would take her home. All she had to do was throw away the puzzle she had been working on for too long and step into the light of change.

#ffxivwrite2023 #writer's choice days #Vi stories #Alter Ego: Mysteri L'etranger #the puzzle #the past and the future #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #my writing #my ocs

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telumendils · 1 year

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Daffodils (Zevran x nb!Cousland)

Title: Daffodils Pairing: Zevran Arainai x nonbinary!Cousland Warden Themes: Reunion; some NSFW implied Summary: Someone left flowers on the Warden-Commander’s desk.

She thought the flowers charming when she first caught sight of them, standing in the doorway of her private quarters in Vigil’s Keep. Elspeth’s head cocked curiously to the side as she recognized the white petals with a burst of yellow at their heart: Daffodils. Her favorite.

Elspeth crossed quickly to her desk to investigate the bouquet, a slight smile playing at her lips as she tried to guess who may have left them. She couldn’t recall telling anyone at the Keep what her favorite flower was. When would she have had the occasion? And yet there was a whole vase of them sitting on her desk.

Fingertips brushed delicate petals as Elspeth leaned down to inhale their scent, only to freeze partway there. Somewhere behind her and to the left, there was a sound. The soft swish of cloth against cloth. A faint creak of leather. Suddenly alert, Elspeth slowly straightened, unsure if she’d actually heard anything.

But there it was again, closer this time, and she could swear the air itself shifted as another body moved into her space. Without another thought, Elspeth thrust her elbow back into the intruder’s ribcage as hard as she could, knocking them off balance with a satisfying oof. She drew her daggers as she turned to face them, blue-green eyes hardening to steel.

The figure, cloaked and hooded, seemed to right themself all too easily, meeting Elspeth’s blades with one of their own. She pressed them with an offhand swing, determined not to give an inch lest she be put on the defensive in her own home. She didn’t like that someone had managed to slip past the Keep’s guards and invade the sanctity of her private rooms, and she would not stand for it.

Even on the offensive, however, she couldn’t seem to gain much ground. The figure drew a second blade of their own and met her every strike as if predicting them. A sense of frustrated confusion built in her chest. Why did they not try to win back the advantage? They seemed only interested in defending themself, perhaps hoping to tire her out.

But then she caught a glimpse of the face beneath the hood—just the flash of a familiar grin from the shadows—and her flurry of attacks faltered. That was all the opening he needed to disarm her right hand and twist it behind her back, just enough to immobilize without hurting her. It was the knife at her throat that should have worried her, anyway.

“Tsk, tsk, my dear. What have I told you about hesitation?” Zevran’s voice ran through her like a warm summer rain, and her gritted teeth became a cheeky smile.

“It’s death,” she said, lifting her chin to avoid the point of his blade.

“Indeed, it is.” Zevran lowered his dagger and released her arm so she could turn to him. Still smiling, Elspeth reached up to lower his hood, steely eyes softening to silk. His arm moved to the small of her back, holding her body against his.

“To be fair,” she said, gently. “I only hesitated because I saw you.” And now it made sense why he could predict her every move—he’d taught her most of them himself.

“Ah! Well, then. Perhaps I have judged too harshly.” Zevran brushed her hair back from her eyes, drawing a flush to her cheeks. “You are as sharp and as beautiful as ever, my Warden.” She’d always liked the way he called her that. It almost eased the ache of being stuck with a profession she never asked for when she heard it spoken with such warmth and affection.

“And you are just as charming,” Elspeth said with a smile.

“You forgot ridiculously handsome.”

“As that is a given.” She raised both brows.

Zevran smirked. “A man does still like to hear it sometimes, however...”

“Of course.” Elspeth grinned. “You are even more handsome than I remember.” She looked at him fondly, and he looked back, each of them drinking in the sight of the other after many months apart. When she spoke again, it was with a familiar, quiet warmth: “I’ve missed you.”

Zevran inhaled softly, then his lips were upon hers, gentle at first but quickly growing more insistent. Elspeth melted under the kiss, leaning her body into his, deepening the gesture as her arms moved around his neck. His mouth moved along her jaw to her throat, where she felt the brief impression of teeth and gasped sharply. His hands were already working to loosen the buckles on her armor. He’d somehow managed to sheath his weapons without her noticing.

His eagerness brought a short, soft ring of laughter to the Warden’s lips. (She’d never know how desperately he’d missed the sound.) Elspeth’s remaining dagger slipped from her hand, dropping to the floor behind Zevran with a clang they both ignored as he pressed her back towards the bed. They made quick work of one another’s clothes, shedding layers of leather and cloth until the only thing left between them was skin, and their bodies fell into a delightfully familiar rhythm.

Once finished, Elspeth made herself at home lounging on Zevran’s chest while his fingertips traced the length of her spine. “You’ll have to tell me how you got in here,” she said after watching him bask for several minutes.

“The window, of course.” Zevran smiled, opening his eyes. “You could use more archers on that wall, amora. Your current patrols are...lacking.”

“Clearly,” she said, deadpan. “You could have come in by the front gate, you know.”

“But then how would I surprise you, and warn you of the gaps in your security?”

“You don’t have to do either of those things.”

“And yet, I want to. Would you deny me the right to take care of you in my way?”

Elspeth considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “Of course not.”

He tucked a wayward ginger curl behind her ear and kissed her nose. “Good.”

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beckwritesfiction · 2 years

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At Full Dark - PROLOGUE

CHAPTER INDEX/MASTERLIST: X

Summary: Ellie Brown's life has never been easy, even when she thought it was. This sets up the story of what leads her back to Wyoming, and a lonely Rhett Abbott.

Notes: This is the prologue of my WIP. I will be hitting 50/60k words soon, and at that point I'll be posting consistent chapters. This is before the events of season one, which I get into around chapter two. This fic will contain smut and is 18+, so minors please don't interact.

Content Warning: mentions of domestic abuse (not described in detail). Let me know if I left any out and I will happily add them!

Word Count: 1.8k

PROLOGUE

When Virginia was eight, her dad hit her mom so hard she lost consciousness. It wasn’t the first time she saw him hit her, but it was the first she saw her fall and not get back up. Her running out the front door wasn’t something he could stop, not when he was so far from sober. And he thought she was going for the woods like she often did when he got a little drunk and the screaming scared her.

She ran for so long and so hard that her white church sandals were brown the next time someone saw her. It was Royal Abbott atop a horse, flanked by his two young sons. The second Royal saw her, her face red and tear-streaked, he wished Cecilia were there. He didn’t know how to handle a crying child, let alone a little girl. He dealt with boys, who he raised to not show up on someone’s land crying the way Virginia did.

But a crying girl was a crying girl, and her breathless pleas to help her mother were ones he couldn’t ignore. From the way she described it, he was pretty sure he’d find her mother dead. He knew her parents, Lonnie and Mary Belfoure. Mary was nice and she exchanged recipes with Cecilia often. She’d even watched their kids a time or two. If anyone knew anything about Mary, it was that she was clumsy, and clumsy wasn’t welcome on a ranch. She was always getting kicked by a horse, bitten by a dog, or scratched by a chicken. That was why there were always marks all over her when she came into town.

Lonnie wasn’t the social type. Everyone thought it was so sweet how he’d sit in his truck after driving Mary into town for her bible study, how he always had his hand on her shoulder in church. It wasn’t until Royal walked into the Belfoure house that day that he realized Lonnie did all those sweet things so Mary was never far enough away to tell people it wasn’t a horse that kicked her, but him. And that he hid his love of liquor well.

Whatever happened inside the house that day, Virginia had no idea. She just remembered crying, Rhett and Perry and Abott standing beside her having no idea what to dote. It was Rhett that walked her to the pasture across the way, leaving Perry with the horses.

“Know why they call those pigtails?” he asked, nodding to the braid her mom did for her just before breakfast.

She only shook her head, having a hard time not seeing her mom laying on the kitchen floor in her mind.

“Me neither. Maybe it’s ‘cause they kinda look like pig’s tails.”

With how far away they were from the house, she couldn’t hear what was going on inside. She was too young to realize that, but Rhett wasn’t. His horse that he’d tied to the fence post was grazing when he nodded over at him. “You like ridin’ horses?”

Virginia shrugged. “I like it, but my daddy says I’m too young. My mama took me once, on the front of her horse, but I fell. Ain’t allowed anymore, I guess.”

“I think your mama’s a lot like my mama.” When Virginia looked up at him, she was curious what he meant. Was his dad mean, too? “Whenever she gets hurt she gets up again, even if it takes her a while. If mine’s like that, yours has gotta be, too.”

First there was a police car, then an ambulance. Rhett was drawing pictures with Virginia in the pasture when they carried her mother out on a stretcher, not dead, but close to it. For everything he drew, she made up stories. He’d never heard someone sit there and say so much made up stuff, and he wondered how she thought of it all. How no matter what he drew, and how badly, she was able to instantly come up with something.

Cecelia drove her truck to the Belfoure ranch, and took her home. Perry wondered if they’d have to adopt her as they rode their horses back home, talking about her like she was a stray dog. Rhett thought if they did, it might be nice to have someone else in his house, someone that didn’t know him how his family did. Even then, at twelve, he knew they thought more of Perry than they did of him. Perry did all his chores when he was supposed to, the way they were supposed to be done. Perry wanted to take over the ranch one day, and listened to everything his dad said because he wanted to. Rhett felt like he was just there most of the time.

Virginia stayed in their house for a week. The first two days, she didn’t do much. Cecilia tried to make her feel more welcome, and even taught her how to cross stitch. When Monday rolled around, she gave everyone a ride to school so no one on the bus asked Virginia if her mom was alive or not. That didn’t stop them from asking at school, though, and when she ran away, Royal found her walking along Main Street when the sun was beginning to set. Cecilia decided she’d stay home with her until her mother got better.

It got better when her grandmother called from the hospital, telling her her mother was alright, and she just needed a few more nights to rest; that Friday night, they’d come by the Abbott ranch and pick her up. By Saturday morning, they’d be on a flight to a place she’d never been before.

“You ever been to Connecticut?” Rhett asked her when they did the dishes later. It was her job that night, she volunteered, but he stayed in the kitchen to help her.

“No. I don’t even know my grandma.”

“I don’t know mine either. She died when I was really little.”

The silence stretched on, the only noise was the game playing from the living room, and the clinking of the dishes in the sink. “I’ve never left Wabang before.”

“Maybe Connecticut’ll be cooler than here. Perry says we’ll never leave this ranch. You gettin’ to leave yours might be lucky.”

On the last night she was there, Cecilia told her not to do the dishes. She had volunteered every night, even when she saw crying because she missed her mom. No one said it, but they guessed she’d done the dishes a lot while crying the way she did.

Her grandma pulled into the gravel driveway with a foreboding crunch, and her mother didn’t even get out of the car. Virginia made gifts for everyone, and she handed them out one by one. It wasn’t until she stopped at Rhett, who sat on the stairs by the door, that she was nervous. She wanted him to like what she made because she’d never worked harder on anything in her life. No one told her she should write a book because of the way she made up such good stories, and he had.

“I wrote this about you, how you said you wanted to be the best bull rider in all of Wabang County. I know I can’t draw as good as you, but I hope you like it.”

He nodded and thanked her, tucking it under his leg as her grandmother ushered her to the door, ready to leave. She didn’t look like the kind of woman that Rhett saw often. Her hair didn’t move when she looked around, and he thought she looked like maybe she didn’t like the way their house smelled. He thought it smelled alright. Her shoes were too shiny, too. Like the kind they’d save for church, otherwise they’d get dirty too fast and not be so clean anymore.

He thought maybe she’d come back someday, but as the years passed, she didn’t. Sometimes he’d ride past the Belfoure ranch and think about the time they found her. And sometimes he’d think about the times she sat at the foot of her bed, making the very book he reread from time to time. It was short, but it was exactly what he wanted his future to be.

When Virginia moved, and she got old enough she figured out why she hated her name so much. Every time someone said it, it sounded like her father screaming it. When she turned fourteen, and started at a private school, she started going by her middle name. It was Eloise then, but everyone called her Ellie, which she loved. And she started thinking about what she wanted to do when she graduated when she was sixteen. The only thing she really thought she was good at was writing, and when she thought about that she thought about Rhett Abbott. She wondered often where he was, but she never tried to find out because that would just remind her of the place she tried so hard to forget.

She went to Colombia, and met a guy. Wes Brown. They got married by her sophomore year because he had graduated and wanted to move on with his life. She listened because she loved him. Then she made excuses for him when he cheated or said terrible things to her.

When her mother died and she left to go back home before he was returned from a business trip, which he refused to leave early, he hit her in their hotel room for the first time. At the funeral, she had a black eye. No one had the nerve to ask her why. He was all she had until she got an email that changed her life. A publishing house, and a big one, wanted to publish her first book.

She worked hard to make it perfect, and it paid off. It was a bestseller, just like her second one. Book tours made it easy to avoid her husband, but when they were over, she had to return to the dark cloud that was their New York City apartment. Every corner of it had a bad memory, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make better ones.

On their third anniversary, when she forgot to vacuum the rug, he told her she was a shitty wife. She made the mistake of suggesting he clean for once. As the black eye was setting in, and Wes was getting drunk and probably having sex with another woman, she got a phone call that felt like a sign. She left, having her own money, and having business to take care of. She took only what she cared about, and left the rest. The rest could be replaced when she found a new place to call home. A place where Wes would never be welcome.

#rhett abbott #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #outer range fanfiction #outer range fic #lewis pullman

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

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X-Files Collector's Edition: The Pilot, AUs (and References)

Pilot AUs and references in other episode time!

Loose chronological order below~

@wexleresque/hllsteeth’s

Unnamed

""Still, a Navy brat at heart, she can roll with the punches and adjust. So she holds up a finger to Mulder and closes the door in his face so she can quickly put on a sports bra and shove her feet into the running shoes she’s glad that she’d decided to bring. He’s still waiting outside when she pushes the door open with her foot while wrangling the rest of her hair into a ponytail.

He looks strangely boyish like this, baseball cap on backwards and doing a little jog in place. Wired indeed, she supposes. Without much preamble, they take off into the night.""

Scully takes up Mulder on his offer to go running.

lost time

""Scully flushes the toilet, rises, and crosses the small bathroom so she can rinse her mouth out at the sink while she ponders his question. “Until about two minutes ago, I was sleeping. In your bed.”

“Do you want to uh…connect the dots for me? I’m a little slow on the uptake right now, but if I think what happened is what actually happened, I think I’d remember it.”

Scully shakes her head, not even trying to parse the jumble of words that fall out of his mouth. Her attention is on her own reflection in the mirror, a stranger under whom she instantly recognizes herself.

Her hair is redder, vividly so against the chalky pallor of her face, the angles of which are sharper than they had been just yesterday. There are lines where there hadn’t been. Not many, but enough to draw her attention. She looks older.""

Requiem-- Mulder and Scully lose all of their memories post the brief Pilot abduction. They begin to piece their lives back together, with dead family members and a kid on the way.

@iwtbscully/@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/BananaChef‘s

Unnamed

""They’re both silent for a few moments, until: “So, uh, why’d you join the FBI?” Mulder tilts his head at an awkward angle to look up at her for a moment before his confidence falters. “You don’t have to answer, I was just—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Scully sneaks a hand out of the blanket to tuck her slowly drying hair behind her ear. “I joined because, part of the way through med school, I realized that the life I had—and the one I was going to have—really didn’t interest me. I ended up getting into thanatology, the study of dead bodies, because I didn’t want to deal with real people....""

Mulder plays 20 Questions with Scully to soothe her embarrassment post Mosquito-Bite-Incident.

Nine Minutes?

""She fell to her knees, shaken to her very core. Nine minutes, she thought. Did I hallucinate all that in nine minutes?

“Scully?” He knelt down next to her, reaching out to her but pulling back at the last second. “Are you okay? Did you see something? Did you see them?""

Clyde Bruckman told Scully the truth-- her S11 death reset her timeline back to the nine minutes lost in the pilot. Mulder is shocked but resigned with her information.

FranTheWonderHorse/fran58's Late Night at the Hoover 01

""I read your report," Mulder said shortly. He reached for a nearby chair and drew it in front of her desk and straddled it.

Scully raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I guess I should congratulate you. Somehow, you managed to put the salient details on paper without sounding like a nut." He picked up a pen from her desk and twirled it in his fingers. "Without making me sound like a nut.""

Ethan is a part of Scully's life, but Scully is currently more focused on figuring out her new partner.

mad_martha/HelenWills's (Annex)

Pilot Flipped

""Mulder did as he was told, and settled himself comfortably in the chair in front of the wide desk to wait. Inured to this situation by countless other meetings like it, he was made not uncomfortable by the interview-like atmosphere: he was an agent of several years' standing and knew, without vanity, his own value to the Bureau.

"So, Agent Mulder …." Blevins rustled a few sheets of paper in a file briefly, then folded his hands on the desk in front of him and studied the younger man. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. You've been with the Bureau, what – five years now?"

"Near enough, Sir," Mulder agreed. He was a little surprised by this approach, but did not betray it.""

Mulder is assigned to Scully. The dialogue is kept the same yet twisted in new, interesting ways.

9 Minutes

""Scully recoiled, horrified, for a second then steeled herself to take a closer look. It was hard to tell through the thick glass, but it was a man and there seemed to be something wrong with him, as though his flesh was becoming as translucent as the glass he was encased in. There was a tube feeding into his throat, but it was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead. Revolted, she walked a few steps down the walkway and scraped the ice off another bottle. This time it looked like a woman, but she was in the same condition as the man. Scully brushed more ice off the bottle to see if there was any other evidence of a life-support system inside. There wasn't – but there did appear to be some other, unidentified organism sharing the container. With a start, she realised that this organism was actually inside the woman's body, and its flesh was pulsing faintly.

Stepping back, she had to fight nausea. This entire corridor was like some grotesque giant's larder, stocked with huge pickle jars. The unexpected comparison was enough to make her gag and look for an avenue out.""

Scully is flashed to the Fight the Future spaceship during those lost 9 minutes, keeping her discovery a secret.

Prelude to an X Part 1/ Part 2/

""He didn't tell me exactly why you were thrown out of the Bureau," Scully replied curtly. "He said there was an internal investigation, though."

"He didn't tell you because I wasn't thrown out: I resigned," Mulder replied. There was a tense pause while the waitress took their orders. When she was gone again, he looked at Scully, but she was avoiding his eyes. "Danny couldn't tell you much anyway," he continued quietly. "Most of the investigation was hushed up, and the details about my resignation are probably buried in my personnel file. I wasn't forced to leave, though - I went voluntarily."

"What difference does it make?" Scully demanded.

"Actually, it makes a lot of difference. But are you willing to listen?""

AU S1 Scully is a doctor-agent; and Mulder is a freelance journalist with a little son (from a terrible move on his ex-wife's part) in tow.

@katy-kt-katie's (Ao3) A Rose Petal and a Fish Tank - Chapter 1

""She knew part of him was confused and hurt by what happened in Philadelphia and the fight over her desk. He could have just as easily fled, pushing her away or ditching her for some new case, but here he was. That did make a difference to her.""

Post Never Again-- Mulder invites Scully out to neutral ground where they discuss loneliness and not being alone since the Pilot. They work their way back.

dlynn’s Reflections of a Rainy Night

""How long have you been standing there?" he sighed, rising and facing the window again. He could hear her soft breaths coming from the doorway between their adjoining rooms.

He had, on a subconscious level, been aware of her presence for some time. Whether it had been a "feeling" or his brain's awareness of her delicate perfume, he had known she was there, standing just inside the threshold. He just hadn't been ready to recognize it yet.

"Awhile," she replied, moving farther into the room, far enough for her to be seen in the diffused light of the window but still distanced from him. It was as if she were afraid of getting too close.

"What do you see out there, Mulder?" Scully queried. "What holds you tonight and keeps you from sleep?""

Post the Red and the Black-- Mulder observes a family putzing about in the rain, waiting for Scully's arrival. He reveals how devastated he is in the face of the loss of their probable child.

Maidenjedi’s Crushed to Ashes

""Scully had called to get the latest, and gently told him. "She's stabilized. It took some effort, and her blood pressure is still lower than they'd really like. But she can live through this, Mulder."

But will she recover, he thought. All the times he'd asked her to sacrifice her work, her passions, always demanding that whatever she believed take a backseat to his own wild ideas and theories and work. Diana had now taken a bullet for him.

Scully made a small noise, a sigh perhaps.... ...and walked to the window, setting her glass down on the desk and picking up the masking tape he kept there. She toyed with the torn edge. Light shone in from the street, casting her in a halo, and Mulder watched her, realizing.

Diana had sacrificed a lot for the work. For him. And she'd left....

Five years in, here stood Dana Scully.""

Post The End Mulder wants to return Scully's comfort... but can't. She finds their casefile from the Pilot.

zulu’s Fight The Past

""Come with me, Mr. Mulder. You can make a life better than this. You can escape your past."

Mulder followed him out of the office. He allowed himself to be guided to a dark sedan parked on the street. The old man drove down the dark streets, then pulled into a parking lot.""

Post Requiem-- CSM offers Mulder the opportunity to stop the motel fire in the Pilot (which had been caused by Scully's candle.)

Would That I Could Travel Both

""What if aliens were real?

No, seriously. What if all the stories about abductions, missing time, even probing, were true? What if UFOs were alien spacecraft and not experimental military aircraft?

What if Fox Mulder was not crazy at all, not even a little bit, and you walked into his office knowing that? What if you agreed with him, because there was evidence, there was scientific proof?""

Different AUs for Requiem-- Mulder didn't get answers, but got Will; Scully saved Mulder in FTF; Scully leaves to be Emily's mother; they begin dating after Pusher; and a successful move in the Pilot.

MoJo and Jori’s Ravaged by Years

""...Samantha kicks him in the shin so hard that he goes down into the dirt. Then she follows through with a well placed kick to his nuts.

Donny is on the ground, grabbing himself and trying not to cry when I hear 'the voice' behind me. Samantha's wide eyes are stuck open, unblinking, like the broken eyes of the old plastic doll in her small hands.

"Fox William Mulder! What do you think you are doing?" my mom asks, her high pitched voice enough to make my heart pound harder.""

Scully is shaken during her autopsy on Tena Mulder, pondering on this woman. Meanwhile Mulder morbidly reflects on the Samantha favoritism and his inability to right his self-imposed wrongs.

@lotsoforangesoutside/@lotzzoforangezoutside‘s (Ao3)

When They Were Young

""Mulder had ordered pancakes and eggs over-easy. He was engrossed in the local paper, his hair boyishly messy, his glasses riding low on his nose like an old man, and Scully let her mind drift. She did not want to think of the events that had lead to this—the motel fire, all the evidence gone, her brand-new laptop destroyed, and the two of them getting nearly no sleep whatsoever.

Two hours ago, she was at a cemetery. A cemetery. It was crazy how her heart was beating, pounding, yet she didn’t feel afraid because there was Mulder...

Mulder. There was Mulder, who hadn’t really been meeting her eyes this morning; he looked shy and bashful, and it was odd.""

Post The S11 Robot Episode-- Scully recalls eating in the diner after the events of the Pilot and feeling that she, finally, belonged.

@atths–twice’s (Ao3, Alt. Ao3, FFN) Faith for the Future - Chapter 4

""Can I read it?” He smiled at her and stroked her face, another flash of lightning shining through the windows.

“Tomorrow,” he said with a smile. She nodded and put her head back on his chest. She did not speak for so long, he thought she had gone to sleep.

“What have you included in it so far?” she asked him, as the thunder rumbled closer. He smiled knowing the thought of it and needing to wait to read it would pique her interest.

“So many different cases,” he said teasingly, and she pinched his side, causing him to jump as she laughed and he swore. “Tomorrow you can read it, Scully, just be patient.”

“Mulder …” she whined.

“Okay,” he said, pulling her close.""

Post Revival Mulder decides to write down the events of his and Scully's life for their daughter. He ends up extensively comparing notes on the Pilot with Scully.

@swinging-stars-from-satellites/bravest_person_in_Wonderland's

Binary Star - Chapter 1 (Ao3)

""Young men in the prime of their lives with the lives they planned to lead stolen from them see a young, pretty woman with a crippled leg using a cane coming to treat their injuries and they have one of two reactions: they either look sidelong at her with scorn, or they start crying. All the doctors are healthy, said one boy, her younger brother’s age, and no one can understand each other. That’s the moment Dana knows she chose the right profession.""

WWII Scully may have been partially crippled by polio, but that doesn't stop her from becoming a brilliant doctor and teaming up with a precocious Mulder to explore the strange light in the woods.

Enjoy!

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