#Thanks stupid tier list that took me TEN YEARS to find. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bittersweetmelxdy · 3 years

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the other end of my scarlet thread...

Words: 4,255

Summary: Every year at midnight of Christmas Night, everyone is able to see the red string of fate connecting them to their soulmate. Y/N has spent the last few years, chasing hers with no avail and is just about to give up, and simply spends her Christmas at the LFG company party, and then goes home alone. Victor has known who his soulmate is since the first year Y/N joined the company, however that was also the year he heard Y/N say in a drunken ramble (due to spiked punch) say that in a tier list of ‘who she’d date in LFG’, Victor didn’t even make the list. This year he plans not only to get on that list, but to be her only option.

Merry Christmas @chibienvychan03, I’m your Secret Santa, I hope you enjoy it <3

Standing in the lobby of LFG, you tried to psyche yourself up to deliver the report to Victor, it would be your last report this year and you and your team had spent countless sleepless nights writing and refining the report so you could hopefully end the year on a glowing report. However, knowing Victor’s nitpicking tendencies you had literally stressed about this all night and even on the drive up to LFG, you had practiced the report with Anna, adding answers to questions you felt Victor would ask. However, the time had come, and Goldman walking up to you signaled that Victor was ready to see you.

“You look like death warmed up.” Goldman said as he got close to you.

“Gee, Goldman glad to see you too.” you replied playfully.

“I’m serious, you look even worse than the very first Christmas party you attended at LFG and you were so drunk.”

“Remind me, not to trust the communal punch bowl again.” you groaned, rubbing your forehead as if to banish the memory from you.

“Though I have to say, I didn’t think you’d have even less of a filter drunk than you did sober, it was pretty entertaining.” Goldman nudged you, as he laughed, “I mean that tier list, I didn’t even know you knew the main employees at LFG.”

“Of course, I do, I make a point to know all the people I interact with.” you said in a prideful tone.

Goldman scoffed, “Sure, you’re such a model business partner, you should give lessons.”

“I think you’re just mad I only put you as a ‘B’ on my list.” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I wouldn’t date you if you paid me.” Goldman threw back, at your scandalised gasp, “I think everyone was more shocked our CEO wasn’t even on your list.”

“There is no way I’d go out with a man who doesn’t even call me by my own name.” you pouted.

“Don’t you think maybe it’s just affectionate teasing?” Goldman asked.

“You’re on thin ice Goldman, keep talking and you won’t be getting away of my famous gingerbread.” you threatened, pointing a finger in his face, as you both stopped in front of Victor’s office.

Goldman grabbed the finger lightly, moving it from his face, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Go and give your report.”

You turned your head, noticing you had reached your destination, and quickly stepped away from Goldman. Fixing your appearance and taking a deep breath, after throwing a final glare at Goldman you raised your hand and knocked thrice on the door. After a minute you heard a deep “Come in.” and you stepped over the threshold to accept your fate.

After you finished your report, having answered ten grueling questions from Victor, and barely stuttering through the questions that despite your careful planning you somehow hadn’t prepared for. You now stood with bated breath, wondering why Victor hadn’t let you leave yet, as you shifted your weight from foot to foot as the silence grew between you. Watching Victor shuffle his papers and sign documents you kicked the floor slightly with the toe of your shoe, the slight noise alerting Victor.

“Hey, take a seat, I’ll be done in a minute and I’ll give you a lift back.” Victor gestured at the couch in the side of his office, and without waiting for your response went back to work.

Swallowing the barb dancing on the tip of your tongue, you walked over and plopped down on the couch, pulling out your phone to watch some videos whilst you waited for Victor. After a few minutes, you suddenly felt your phone being pulled slightly out of your grasp, and looking up you noticed Victor hovering over you, already dressed in his coat.

“Come on Dummy, let’s go.” Victor called and then stood back to his full height turning around to walk back to his desk to pick up his briefcase and file folder.

You couldn’t help admiring the fine figure Victor cut in his winter get up, checking him out but quickly averting your eyes when he faced you once again. Standing up, you smoothed your outfit and then followed Victor, thanking him as he opened the door for you to exit the office. Passing through the corridors you passed Goldman, who seeing you with the CEO raised an eyebrow at you, but just as you took a deep breath to yell at him, he quickly called out.

“Remember, I don’t eat peppermint.” Goldman said patting you on the shoulder before leaving quickly before you could retort.

Shaking you head, huffing out a laugh and rolling your eyes as Victor behind you furrowed his brows casting his eyes between you and Goldman in confusion. However, he didn’t breach the subject until you were both sitting in his car and as he drove you home.

“So... what did Goldman mean?” Victor coughed once and glanced at you almost bashfully, but all this was lost on you as you kept your eyes on the scenery outside of the window.

“Oh, I bake a whole batch of gingerbread every year for my friends and stuff. And I do different flavour combinations for different people depending on their taste.

“You bake, does it taste good?” Victor said, and sadly his intended tease fell flat at your response.

“It’s good enough for people who aren’t gourmet chefs at least.” you threw back spitefully, and Victor winced slightly, deciding to change the topic instead.

“Anyway... you got any plans for Christmas?” Victor asked.

Deciding to cut him some slack, you humoured him in the change of subject, “No plans, apart from the LFG Christmas Party.”

��No... no plans with your soulmate?”

You laughed bitterly, raising your left hand to stare at your pinky finger, “I’ve spent years chasing after them and he obviously doesn’t want to find me, I think after this year, I’m just going to give up.”

Victor choked on his breath as he stopped outside your apartment building, turning to look at you with slight panic in his eyes, “What if he IS looking for you, right now?” he asked. You shrugged unbuckling your seatbelt and hopping out of his car, not answering his question you then shut the car door, turning to enter your building, missing how Victor stared at your retreating figure with determination in his eyes.

A few days passed and you found yourself navigating the supermarket at an ungodly hour of 1am so that you it was finally quiet and the only people accompanying you were tired college students and insomniacs. You picked up a basket, yawning as you walked through the automatic doors, before first navigating through the fruit and veg aisles, to pick up fresh ginger, oranges and other ingredients. You snapped a quick picture of the empty aisles, uploading it to your Moments with a yawning and sleepy emoji as the caption alongside the words, ‘Night Owl’, as you entered the dairy section. Crouching down in front of the various pots of double cream, you unlocked your phone to check the quantities you needed when you felt a cool sensation atop your head. Looking up, to your surprise, was Victor standing next to you, still dressed impeccably, a stark contrast to your very casual outfit. Grabbing the appropriate double cream containers and carefully placing them in your basket, you stood, and Victor placed a can of tea in your hands, before bending slightly and picking up your heavy basket with ease.

“You need anything else?” Victor asked softly, and you tilted your head as you once again saw the rare appearance of “soft Victor”, something that never failed to make you heartbeat race.

“Ah... um...” You stopped and collected your thoughts under Victor’s amused gaze, “No, I think I got everything. How come you’re here I thought you preached “8 hours of sleep a day”, and “if you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll continue to make stupid mistakes”.” during your quotations you deepened your voice to mimic Victor, before realising that it wasn’t the best idea to mock the prime investor of your company and you covered your mouth with your hands.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” you apologised quickly, looking in the opposite direction of Victor.

Victor sighed, switching the basket to the outside and reaching out he placed his larger hand atop your head, ruffling your tresses affectionately, “If you have time to practice impressions of me, you should instead put that energy into proofreading your report.” you looked up and stared as Victor smiled softly at you, but you chalked it up to your sleepy state, and you spent the next half hour wandering the aisles of the deserted supermarket with Victor, picking up various ingredients and supplies, and finally once you reached the checkout, as you fumbled in your purse for your wallet, Victor took the opportunity to swipe his black card and pay for your groceries.

Leaving the supermarket holding the lighter of your bags, you turned to Victor to admonish him for his act, “Victor, I could’ve paid you know!”

“I know that, just thought I’d help you out.” Victor shrugged before raising a hand to halt your open mouth, “No, you do not need to pay me back,”

You shut your mouth, and after a couple beats of silence, you erupted in giggles as Victor watching you also began to laugh at the silliness of the whole situation. Your combined breaths swirling around you both in white whisps, as you both calmed down. Once you had both regained your composure, you extended your hand out for Victor to return the bag to you so you can go home. But to your surprise Victor shook his head silently at you and then grabbed your right hand, leading you over to his car. As you walked the short distance in the still night blanketing Loveland City, you furrowed your brow as you felt a weird tingling feeling in your left pinky and looking down there was no visible change but shaking you head you dispelled such thoughts and simply followed the CEO with full trust.

A few more days passed, and you were window shopping in the New Light Mall, looking for a dress for the LFG Christmas Party. You had planned to just recycle a dress you already owned with a different jacket and some new accessories, but to your horror you noticed it had a stain on it, and it was in a pretty noticeable spot. Taking it to the drycleaners, the workers sadly informed that due to the holiday season, they would be unable to get it back to you before the Christmas Party date, knowing it was a fruitless endeavour, you apologised to the workers but still left the dress with them so you could at least have a clean dress for the next fancy function.

Leading you to the current predicament, aimlessly wandering through the shopping centre, window shopping and hoping something would catch your eye. After an hour of searching, you were just about ready to give up when a simple dress caught your eye. Approaching the window, you noted that although the dress seemed simple in its cut and style, the choice of slightly shimmery satin gave it an air of elegance, and even better because of the simple but fashionable cut you could easily rewear the dress and change the look with different accessories. Casting your eyes to the side of the mannequin you saw a small plaque with the pricing of the dress, and your eyes lit up seeing it was an affordable price. Entering the store, you prayed silently that the store would carry your size, and lo and behold, it did. You held the dress up against your figure, as you watched yourself in the full-view mirror, giggling lightly and swishing out the skirt to admire the cut.

After purchasing the dress, you noted the sky had grown dark and as you left the shopping centre you decided to take a detour through Creek Ancient Street where you knew there was a light display, before heading home. Just from approaching the bridge that led into Creek Ancient Street you could see the steady stream of people and the faint glow of the Christmas lights. Skipping your way past the colourful market stalls and following the pathway of lights, you found yourself in front of a large tree in the middle of the crossroads. The silver lights twinkled in the branches and in the darkness, it looked like scattered stars and casting your eyes to the side you saw that for a small price you could purchase a small ornament which you could attach a written wish to and then you could hang it on the tree’s branches. Walking towards the stall vendor, you examined the rows upon rows of Christmas ornaments, before spotting a small, cute snowman that wore a simple santa hat and a red sparkly bow around its neck. Pointing at it you asked for the vendor to take it down for you, when the vendor’s comment made you pause.

“Miss, this snowman comes in a pair would you like to buy the other one too?” the vendor handed you the smaller snowman, and then retrieved the snowman’s counterpart, a taller snowman with a deep red scarf, black hat and thick eyebrows, and showed him to you.

Looking at how well the pair looked together, you felt awkward in splitting them up, so you were about to hand the snowman back when a large hand appeared over your shoulder and plucked the snowman out of the vendors hand, replacing it with money to cover both ornaments. Turning your head quickly, your eyes widened as the sight of Victor, who simply thanked the vendor, who smiled in thanks for the purchase, and then he spun you around and led you over to the tree.

“Victor, what are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Just passing by.” Victor coughed into his fist and averted his eyes, and you could be mistaken but in the low hazy lighting you were almost certain that the red on the tips of his ears was out of embarrassment rather than the cold.

You squinted in skepticism at Victor’s response, with how far away you were from LFG it seemed unlikely that Victor was simply “passing by”. But shrugging you turned your eyes to the ornament and after running over the snowman with your thumb, you uncapped a pen from the jar on a table next to the tree and thought about your wish.

“You not going to wish to meet your soulmate?” Victor asked.

Noting this was the second time in the last week Victor had brought this up you queried him, “Why are you so interested in my soulmate?”

“Maybe finding your soulmate will make you better at your work.” Victor teased, poking you directly in the middle of your forehead.

“Hey!” you rubbed your forehead pouting, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Victor asked, not watching you but instead finishing to write his wish.

“Is your wish about finding your soulmate?”

Victor stopped looked at you for a few seconds, before reaching up and hanging his ornament on the tree branch before answering with a simple, “Something like that.”

You hurriedly finished your wish with hopes of the coming year to make your father proud, and whilst handing the ornament to Victor your fingers brushed his palm, and as he turned to hang your ornament next to his you felt that tingling sensation in your pinky finger once again. Thinking it was simply pin and needles you rubbed it with your other hand until the feeling faded once again.

Stepping into the rented, lavishly decorated rented hall that was the location of the LFG Christmas Party, you marveled at the decorations, snapping pictures of the decorations to quickly add to your Moments. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you jumped with a small yelp.

“Goldman!” you called, spinning around, and seeing the drink in his hand you looked around for a waiter.

“Don't even think about it, the waiters know not to give you any alcohol.” Goldman told you.

“Come on, one glass.” you pouted.

“Talk to me when you stop being a lightweight.” Goldman deadpanned, despite your sad puppy dog eyes, “Anyway don’t you want to spend one party sober so you can find you soulmate?”

You scoffed, “Fine, but when I don’t find him, you owe me.” you pointed at him accusatorily.

Goldman nodded and then you and him after a short conversation, you both parted and you spent the next few hours talking to various employees of LFG, and taking some fun selfies with Kiki, Willow and Anna. Finally, as midnight drew closer your social battery was running low and you made your way over a deserted balcony, and you sighed leaning your arms on the railing.

“Please tell me no-one gave you alcohol.” a deep baritone cut through your reverie, and you opened your eyes to watch as he approached you and at your shiver Victor began to take off his coat, reaching to put it around your shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you save this behaviour for your soulmate?” You teased.

“Be worried about a certain Dummy’s health isn’t something my soulmate would get mad at me about.” Victor threw back, his tone softer than usual but you felt this was due to the festive period.

You sighed, casting your eyes to the stars twinkling above, “How come you’re so calm?”

“Sorry?”

“Most people your age seem more concerned that they haven't found their soulmate.” you mused.

“My age?” Victor teased, standing next to you and placing a hand next to your elbow, so he could lean over you slightly, “Am I so old to you?”

“You know what I mean.” you rolled our eyes.

“Aren’t people YOUR age still full of hopeless fantasies about your soulmates?”

“Yeah, some of us aren’t.” you sighed, drawing a circle on the stone railing.

“Really, with an imagination like yours I’d expect you had your whole future planned out by now.”

“I did once,” you smiled, rested your hands flat against the railing and leaned backwards, “I still have the scrapbook I made with my high school friends, it may seem silly but it was really fun at the time.” you didn’t know why, but you suddenly felt you had to justify embarrassing younger self to Victor.

Victor reached out and placed it on your head, stroking your hair gently, “It’s not silly, not at all.” his soft tone, caused a heat to prickle under your cheeks.

“Thanks Victor, you’re really sweet when you want to be.”

“I’m glad even someone like you can see my good points.”

You scoffed, “You’re a good guy Victor, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Even you?”

You laughed, “Yeah even m-”

The clock struck midnight, and you looked down seeing a bright scarlet thread materialise around your left pinky finger, a neat little bow adorning it. Following the thread with your eyes, to your absolute horror for the first time in your life you saw the end of the red thread, neatly tied around Victor’s finger. You felt like ice cold water had been poured down your back, and you felt faint, stumbling backwards as you realised the only one who was shocked was you.

You lifted your trembling left index finger, pointing it Victor, “Y-y-y-you knew?”

Victor realising this was going south, tried to placate you, “Listen y/n-”

“How long?”

“...”

“How long, Victor!”

“... the first year you collaborated with LFG.”

“It must have been real fun for you, to string me along whilst you laughed behind my back.”

“No, that’s not it.” Victor took a step towards you, but you shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, stepping back once more, you ripped his jacket from your shoulders throwing it haphazardly at Victor’s face, before fleeing the venue.

Reaching home, you threw yourself on your bed not bothering to take off any of your clothes and started sobbing into your pillow. It wasn’t that you were disappointed in WHO your soulmate was, in fact part of your tears were full of relief, knowing that the guy you were beginning to fall for was your soulmate. Now the guilty feelings that were beginning to surface, that you were betraying your soulmate could be put to rest. You rolled over onto your back, teary eyes staring at your ceiling and hugging your pillow tightly to your chest. ‘What am I going to do now?’ you wondered closing your eyes and slipping off into a dreamless sleep.

You had spent the last week, avoiding Victor at all costs. If you had a meeting at LFG, Anna subbed in for you, saw him in the corridor, you hid behind a potted plant until you were certain he had gone. you had even recruited Goldman to give you updates on Victor’s movements, and although he had no idea what was going on, bless his heart he was still helping you avoid his boss.

You sighed, leaning against the wall of an empty hallway in LFG on New Year’s Eve with Goldman staring at you confused.

“So... why are you avoiding the boss?” Goldman asked, passing you a water bottle from the vending machine.

“Hah... I... Goldman I-”

“So, you found out?”

You whipped your head up to look at Goldman where he stood next to you taking a sip of his own water bottle, “Y-y-y-you knew?”

Goldman shook his head, “Not for definite but I had a feeling, most of the office did, there’s still an active betting pool on when the two of you are going to finally get together.”

You felt the heat prickle in your cheeks, “A-a-are you part of it?”

Goldman snorted lightly, and offered no response, which meant he was definitely in on it, “Do you like him?”

“Who? Victor?”

“No, the other CEO who’s your soulmate.” Goldman deadpanned.

“I... I do, it’s just he never-”

“For someone who runs around talking about how everyone has different love languages, you really fail to see when someone’s speaking yours.” Goldman pushed off the wall and stood in front of you, “I know I poke fun at you at lot, but I mean it when I say please don’t do that thing you do when you run away from your problems.”

“I don’t-”

“Y/N.” Goldman said sternly.

You sighed again, watching out the window at the city lights blinking as the city prepared to celebrate the new year. “I’ll think about it.” you finished the conversation there and made your way into the streets of Loveland City.

After aimlessly walking around the streets of Loveland City, your heart twinging with sadness every time you passed a happy couple snuggled up to each other whispering softly to each other in the wintery air. In a strange coincidence you ended up back at the large Christmas tree where you had bought the ornament. As you approached the tree you noticed that the shop vendors were taking down some of the ornaments and by chance the vendor you had bought the snowman from the first time spotted you and waved you over.

“Miss!” he called smiling at you brightly.

“Hello.” catching his infectious energy you smile brightly in return, “How come the ornaments are coming down?”

“City Council wants to take down some of the ornaments, so we don’t harm the tree, but I’m glad I caught you.” he then handed the two snowman you and Victor had bought over to you.

“Um, this one isn’t mine...” you started.

“Could you pass it to the gentleman that came with you?” the vendor smiled and then ran off before you could clarify to the vendor that you and Victor weren’t like that.

‘Yet’ your mind whispered, and you shook your head vehemently as if to shake it out of your head.

Stepping into the square, you saw that the minute countdown had started for the new year and you stood stock still amidst the happy people anticipating the new year, caressing Victor’s snowman with your thumb, before the crinkling of the paper caught your eye. Your curiosity winning over your conscience, caused you to turn the paper over to see in Victor’s neat handwriting.

“Please let Y/N, love me back.” a deep baritone voice was heard above you, and you looked up in surprise to catch Victor’s soft eyes.

“Victor?” you whispered, as he approached you, his large hands reaching out to hold your cold cheeks.

“You never let me finish, before you ran off.” Victor said, “I’ve known since the first year, but you got drunk and wouldn’t even put me of your list of people you would date in the company, I’ve spent few years trying to get you to see me in the way I see you.”

“You like me too?” you said in disbelief, the multiple times that Victor was sharp with you flashing through your eyes before overlapping with all the times he was soft with you.

The countdown hit zero as Victor rested his forehead against yours, and as the cheers of the public became background noise around you as the only thing you could hear was Victor’s deep voice saying sincerely to you.

“Dummy, since the moment I met you, I’ve been waiting for you to see the light.”

#mlqc scenarios #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc zen #mr love queen's choice #mr love victor #mr love li zeyan #mr love zen #koi to producer #love x evol #mlqc

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nanoland · 3 years

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new chapter (supernatural fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Clean Hands, part 3

Crowley/Castiel/Dean Winchester, warning for violence and spn demons being spn demons

Another day, another assassination attempt.

“Congratulations, sir,” said Paula, bustling in with his coffee and daily planner. “That brings it to eight, yes? I recall your making some remark about throwing a small office party if we hit ten before the end of the month.”

Lifting the corpse off the row of retractable spikes he’d installed in his desk, Crowley grunted, “It was a joke. On the other hand, maybe it would be good for morale. Make the blighters less determined to snuff me.”

“I’ll add it to the calendar. Sir, your ten ‘o clock is waiting in the lobby. Should I send him in?”

Technically, ‘ten ‘o clock’ didn’t exist in Hell. Time didn’t exist in Hell.

But by God, it did for Paula.

Infamous among Crowley’s minions, she ruled his appointment diary with an iron fist (well – iron talons, more accurately) and kept a horseman’s pick tucked neatly under her workstation for anyone who was more than five minutes late.

She’d been the most competent corporate PA in the business when Crowley had purchased her soul in exchange for a medical breakthrough that had beaten down her cancer and allowed her those ten precious years. It would, in fact, have allowed her a normal human lifespan, if not for Crowley’s hounds.

(Her wish was among his favourites and her contract had pride of place in his trophy cabinet. She could have just said ‘cure me’; she’d dreamed bigger. Ambition! Now that was what Crowley liked to see. Very few people who sold their souls managed to leave the world a better place than they’d found it.

Truthfully, arranging the breakthrough had taken an amount of power on his part that, ordinarily, he’d have objected to. Ever since the Zuckerberg Incident of 2004, Crowley had maintained a policy against granting wishes that fundamentally altered the pace and trajectory of human scientific development. But he’d wanted her. Reliable PAs were like gold dust and they almost always went to bloody Heaven. “And for what, I ask you?” he’d said to Dean once. “How much admin is really involved in keeping people locked in a lotus-eater machine?”)

“The ten… oh, piss. It’s Alan, isn’t it? Yes, yes. Let’s get this over with. Send him in.”

Another day, another fucking workplace harassment mess to sort out. How many more sodding seminars was he going to have to host before they all got it through their heads that biting off a co-worker’s arm was not a viable long-term conflict resolution strategy?

Sigh.

It was only after four meetings and sixteen calls that Crowley remembered he’d not yet disposed of the assassin.

“I suppose I should make an example of you,” he huffed, already imagining it.

The hassle.

The bother.

Getting an apron on.

Finding the hammer.

Lugging the stupid bastard up a ladder and nailing him to the office noticeboard by his scrote.

He could always ask Paula to do it. But, bless her heart, she’d only been a demon for six years and arranging a corpse for maximum intimidation was just as much a matter of practice as talent.

As Crowley was fetching the ladder, Gwen from Legal arrived whey-faced and dogged by two dozen assistants and interns.

“Sir, it’s a catastrophe,” she wailed.

Five minutes later, Crowley was back at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Avoidable. Utterly, pathetically avoidable. All you had to do was amend the contract to state that the phrase ‘ten years’ refers solely and specifically to Earth’s orbital period, not the orbital period of the contractee.”

Gwen hung her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. Finding qualified staff to manage this sort of deal is tricky. When people with, you know, science degrees and stuff die and are damned, the assholes over at the Experimental Punishments Department always snatch ‘em up first. It’s a real problem.”

“I’ll have a word with them. Ugh – alright, alright, let’s try and sort this out. How long is a Martian year?”

“The internet says six hundred and eighty-seven days.”

“Damn. Almost twice as long,” Crowley grumbled, pouring himself a drink. “What did he even want from us? He’s a billionaire. The list of things they can’t get without our help grows shorter by the day.”

“He wanted to guarantee that he’d be the first man on Mars, sir; that none of his competitors would get there before he did.”

“Wait. Hold on. The thing he wished for and the mechanism by which he’s attempting to fuck us over are one and the same? Oh, no, no, no. I’m not going to take that cheeky bollocks lying down. Get the head of Research and Development in here, now. We’re going to find out how to crash a spaceship.”

Gwen’s gaze flickered to the assassin’s corpse. “Um.”

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered.

At which point Paula tapped on the door to ask if he wanted to reschedule his next five meetings, because unless he could deal with them all in a grand total of twelve minutes, he’d be late for his call with the NRA’s chairman.

When Castiel arrived – without an appointment, as per usual, but Paula had standing instructions to let him through – he found Crowley resting his head on his desk, fantasising about being a paperweight.

“I’ve come for more sex,” he explained.

Dragging himself from despair’s depths, Crowley slurred, “T’riffic.”

He instructed his meat suit to sit up and turn on the winning smile. Unlike more reliable vehicles, possessed bodies didn’t have dashboard lights to indicate an exhausted battery; instead, it announced its displeasure by growing three new tumours.

Castiel stepped back, confused. Displeased. “You’re usually more enthusiastic than this. Why is your desk covered in diagrams of rockets? Is this a ‘new hobby’?”

Exaggerated finger quotes. Damn him to the pit, he was precious.

“Kitten, rest assured I have only two hobbies and they both dress badly.”

He expected retaliation for that. Castiel hated being reminded that Crowley regularly dallied with his favourite human. It came as a surprise, then, when the angel simply reached out and firmly gripped his shoulder, declaring, “You need to rest.”

Wings flapped. Suddenly, Crowley was standing in front of a wide, glassy lake, surrounded by dense forest, and in the distance…

“Is that Mount Fuji?”

“Indeed,” said Castiel, smiling briefly. “She’s a childhood friend. I first visited when she was little more than an unusually picturesque bump in the ground.”

There was no one around. There was nothing around. No boats on the lake, no fishermen, no families on holiday, not even the distant roar of traffic. Just them, the view, the water, and a – huh – a bright orange tent pitched nearby.

“This is where I come to relax,” Castiel informed him, opening up the zipper.

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Huh. I wasn’t aware that you…”

“That I what?”

“Owned things. Or even grasped the concept of owning things. Don’t give me that look; you’re the one who’s worn the same socks ever since you slipped into that God-bothering flesh puppet.”

Castiel sniffed. “Materialism is a disease. But I’m not a child, Crowley. For your information, in my time on Earth I have owned many things.”

Always fun to ruffle the pretty bird’s feathers. “Yeah? How many of them were hand-me-downs from the Hardy Boys?”

“Most of them,” he said, levelly. “With the exception of this tent and your ass, demon.”

A pin drop pause.

Castiel maintained unblinking eye contact for exactly twelve seconds, then turned and crawled into his neon den.

Practically vibrating with adoration, Crowley followed.

It was evident that Castiel, despite his laudable efforts to create a space for himself in a world that had no space for him, didn’t entirely grok camping.

There were no sleeping bags. Instead, the tent’s bottom was covered in duvets, dozens of them, soft and fresh as if they’d come directly from the shop – or, more accurately, Crowley suspected, someone’s washing line.

“I cured her dog’s foot infection,” Castiel said, somewhat defensively, settling into his cotton and fleece nest.

“Ah. And she was so grateful she said you could make off with all her laundry, hm?”

“She… did not say those words, precisely. But it was heavily implied.”

Thank sin this was only a meat suit. Thank sin, thank everything that Castiel couldn’t see the expression of hopeless, pitiable fondness that would have adorned Crowley’s true face at that moment.

It was a relief when Castiel, without further ado, started undressing. Crowley, copying him, took the opportunity to talk sense into himself.

Come on. Grow up. Get it together. You know what you are. More importantly, you know what he is. Ageless. Unfathomable. Demons, at the end of the day, are just distilled human nastiness, but him? He existed before humans. Before microbes. He’s nice to babies and bees and pot plants and Dean and that makes it easy to forget that… that…

Oh, yes. Remember when he came to Hell? The first time he saw Dean; the start of their epic, eternal, infuriating romance? And where were you? That’s right. You were with the others, standing there slack-jawed and helpless, like dinosaurs watching the comet hit. Like children gazing up at a mushroom cloud.

Twelve thousand. That’s how many demons he burned out of existence, without even trying. Twelve thousand.

Do you think he ever thinks about them? Do you think he even noticed?

Twelve thousand.

Do you think he knows how close you were to being one of them?

Do you think he cares?

He’s nice to babies. Bees. Pot plants. Dean. You, even, sometimes. He’s sweet. He’s got big, soft blue eyes and hair that aches to be tussled. He’s a top-tier, world-class fuck. And at any moment, for any reason, he could end you, easy as blowing away dust, and you can’t say for certain he would even remember your name in a month’s time.

“What? No,” Castiel protested when Crowley kissed him. “We’re here to rest, Crowley.”

Drawing back, Crowley leered. “That’s what you want to do, is it? Rest?”

Perpetually thirsty tart that he was, Castiel bit his lip and looked torn. “I… yes.”

Crowley pouted.

Firmer now, Castiel said, “We will rest for a while first. Then we will have sex. Is that satisfactory?”

No sooner had Crowley resignedly nodded than Castiel seized him and finished undressing him, tossing his undershirt and socks out the tent. When they were both naked, the cold air coming off the lake making Crowley shiver, Castiel burrowed into his pilfered pile and dragged the demon down with him.

“Rest first,” he ordered him. “Sex afterwards. No, no – stop that. Afterwards, I said.”

Crowley groaned and whined and fussed, but obeyed.

And bugger him gently if it wasn’t actually pleasant, very pleasant, to lie there with Castiel’s strong arms locked around his torso, toasty warm under layers of wool while, outside, the lake lapped at its bank and wind rustled through the trees. No assassins. No paperwork. No blood. Everything nice and quiet. Everything calm and clean.

Then Castiel sighed, a hot puff against the back of Crowley’s neck, and said, “You know, the thing that vexes me most about Dean is the way he…”

#supernatural #crowley #castiel #crowstiel #dean winchester #drowley #destiel #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

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henrikvanderswoon · 4 years

Text

MURDER AT TURQUOISE INN: A Nancy Drew Story Written by 10-year-old Yours Truly Readthrough

Alright, guys, you asked for it! It’s pouring down rain outside, I’ve grabbed some tea, I have my entire Nancy Drew game music track playlist going, and I’m ready to crack this s nutcase wide open.

Absolute ridiculousness below:

The fact that this story is titled “Murder at Turquoise Inn” is already sending me, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I spelled it terquoice on the cover page.

I also started this story out with a letter to Ned. God bless.

Dear Ned, Beth Robertson was murdered!

As if Ned (or anyone else) even knows who the fuck Beth Robertson is, Nancy.

I named the owner of the inn Tina Mulberry, and I think that was very sexy of me.

“I turned to do something, and when I came back, she was dead on the floor! I could tell because her heart wasn’t beating and she wasn’t breathing!”

I mean… that’ll do it, Tina. That’ll do it.

Oh, but she can’t prove anything now because she ran to get help and when she returned the body was fucking MISSING.

Bess throws a conniption fit every time someone says “Beth.”

“Oh, hello, Nancy,” she greeted.

“Hello,” Nancy greeted back.

That is some…some god-tier writing right there.

I really had no concept of space and time in fifth grade.

It was a huge room. Bigger than the cafeteria in Ned’s college.

Oh, was it?

A message from the author: Hey kiddos, if you’re snooping around in someone’s closet and you come across a completely conspicuous button just chilling on the wall, don’t press it.

The three girls came out of the closet.

Well, there you have it, folks. Nancy, Bess, and George are gay. Everyone’s gay. Even your cat is gay.

Tina has a niece named Lily who calls her Mrs. Mulberry. Also, Tina consistently neglects her work duties in favor of writing a screenplay at the front desk computer and I have no idea why.

The murderer is walking around leaving stupid messages with the drawing of a knife on them trying to curse everyone and I’m so confused. Where the hell was I going with this?

“I KNOW YOU SAW BETH DEAD, BUT IF YOU TELL ANYONE, A DEADLY CURSE WILL FALL UPON YOU.”

WHAT DOES THIS EVEN FUCKING MEAN?

The lines in this thing are really just peak writing:

George took off after him at a safe distance to avoid being seen. But BAD LUCK FOR HER, the man jumped into a car and drove off.

Someone sabotaged the girls’ rental car while they were away from the hotel, and this couple they literally just met are like: “I just remembered, we have an extra car that we don’t use. You could use that.” Who the fuck–?

Uh, oh. They got back to the hotel and found their own curse lying in Bess’ suitcase:

LAY OFF THE CASE, NANCY DREW. YOU MADE MRS. MULBERRY TELL YOU THE MURDER STORY. NOW THE CURSE IS UPON YOU TOO.”

This sounds like a ten-year-old wrote it… wAiT A MiNutE–

Literally nothing in this story explains what the curse would even do to them. I love myself.

The culprit: *leaves threatening messages warning people not to speak about the murder or they’ll be cursed*

Nancy:

“Oh, hello,” Jackson greeted.

“Hi,” Nancy said. “Say! Have you heard about the murder?”

I ALMOST SPAT OUT MY TEA.

Also:

“I’m going to the store to, um, get some stuff. Like food.”

“But there’s foot here.”

“I just want to BUY things, okay? You’re so NOSEY!”

Jackson stormed off, leaving Nancy astonished. That put him on her suspect list FOR SURE.

This is a literary gem.

The way the dialogue sounds in this thing…I mean you can just tell the only written media I had been consuming at that time was the 1930′s books.

“I think,” Nancy replied. “That tomorrow we should go to the place where I followed Jackson.”

Giving me Scooby-Doo vibes too.

The number of times Bess says something like, “Why, Nancy!” or “This is horrid!” really makes me want to turn this into a drinking game. Take a shot every time Bess speaks like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Bess exclaimed.

…

No comment.

Also, Nancy’s unadulterated sass my fifth-grade self gave her is both the worst and the best thing I’ve ever seen:

“But what if the house isn’t empty?” Bess asked.

“Bess, please. Ever heard of the word: S-N-E-A-K?”

I want to harpoon myself.

There’s an elaborate maze of tunnels running underground that connects the hotel to this sketchy house miles away. The characters consistently find themselves back there several times throughout the story and literally nothing about it makes any sense at all, nor is it ever explained.

“Man, that passageway confuses me,” said George.

Thank you, George, it confuses all of us.

I’m actually embarrassed about how many times I refer to the group of characters as a “threesome” or a “foursome” in this thing. It’s really just the worst.

The culprit purposefully leaves behind their real initials multiple times in this story and has the audacity to be surprised when they get caught at the end? Iconique™.

“I’m just a weird ol’ guy, Sweety-Cakes.”

Ned, are you okay? Was I okay when I wrote this?

Ned’s coming to visit, and he brings Burt and Dave with him and boy howdy did I forget about those two.

“This mystery sounds dangerous,” Burt remarked. “Shouldn’t you leave this case to the men?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Nancy fired back.

Yaaaassss, Queen. Get his ass.

Also the murderer has now resorted to hitting people with a driverless vehicle and I’m honestly convinced ten-year-old me was on drugs.

“Good! We were starting to get worried about you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I…wait…wait, actually, worry about me!”

The line goes dead here because Lily’s car was uhhhh T-boned.

My only regret in this story is that the Hardy Boy’s are not here. Although, in hindsight, they’re probably lucky they didn’t get subjected to this shitshow.

Meanwhile, George thought maybe Bess had made a mistake and walk’s into the men’s bathroom. She walked in but found no one–well, except a bunch of screaming men.

I don’t even know what to say.

They went to see Lily in the hospital and Bess got hit by a driverless car in the fucking parking lot. WHAT KIND OF MADWOMAN WOULD WRITE THIS I CAN’T BREATHE.

That night, back at the hotel, Nancy gets lured out of the hotel and into the back forest behind it because someone’ s playing weird music and I’m just now realizing my child self had no idea what kind of theme to run with here (murder, hauntings, curses, GTA) so I just went with all of them at once.

“I could just destroy it,” Ned said as he studied the lock. “Stand back.” Backing up a few yards, he bolted for the cabin door and broke it down with a strong kick. “For Nancy!” he shouted.

HeR Interactive’s Ned could never.

So they find Nancy tied up in a cabin in the woods and, lo and behold there’s a trap door that LeADs InTo tHE UnDeRGroUnD TuNnEls. Who’da thunk?

And of course they find a journal written in code, and the code key just happens to have been left in the cabin.

“I’ve written this journal in code so if anyone finds it, they will not discover my secret. Okay, now that I’ve said that, here is my secret.”

This is the first line Nancy decodes. I’m…

Naturally, we find out that Beth Robertson was not dead, but just kidnapped (don’t even ask me how the fuck they got her body to appear dead…drugs?) and being held in the underground tunnels.

Because this makes perfect sense.

“You seem different. Your voice doesn’t sound the same and you’re a little shorter than you usually…” Tiffany trailed off. “You are Jackson, aren’t you?”

“No,” Ned said. “Thanks for asking.”

This is 100 times funnier without context so I’m not giving you any.

I don’t know about you guys, but if I was arranging a meeting with a colleague and they showed up in a ski mask and a hooded cloak, I’d be a little suspicious.

“But you’ re supposed to be delivering Nancy Drew poisonous flowers from her ‘boyfriend.’”

Oh my god this bitch pulls a gun on Ned and together the rest of the group (you know, the ones who haven’t been hit by a car) fucking go APESHIT on this woman’s ass. I CAN’T BREATHE.

And of course they find Beth tied up somewhere in the tunnels and get her to safety, and they learn that Bess and Lily are recovering well in the hospital and go to visit them and everything’s all bright and happy.

THE LAST LINE OF THE STORY HAS ME SCREAMING, THOUGH. To the point where I’m just gonna sign off here and leave you all with it.

“Man.” Lily looked sad. “I wish I hadn’t missed almost the whole thing.”

Bess spoke up. “I, on the other hand, am glad.”

#I just spend over two hours doing this and i have never felt more accomplished (how tf am i supposed to tag this??)#nancy drew #nd humor #the clue crew #i'm not even putting this in a 'my writing' tag fbsfnadnsdk #have fun guys #txt post #long post #like theres so much more i could have written but this is ridiculous enough haha

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