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idontknowreallywhy · 7 months

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Got myself in a cycle of stress editing / rewriting particular piece which will not go the way I want. So I abandoned it for now and challenged myself to just write a one-off scene that has lived in my head for a long time with no going back and editing or adjusting but just a linear splurge of words and silliness.

It’s entirely ridiculous but here it is anyway (with an affectionate nudge to @crunchyluigi @obeyweegee214 @galaxytransman)

It’s a Secret No-One Knows

6pm on Tracy island and all was quiet as Scott made his way up the stairs into the lounge.

Virgil, Gordon and Alan were still in the air on the way back from a tricky mine rescue in Northern Europe. He was grateful that success had been confirmed on comms as he’d been on the point of ignoring John’s pointed comments about flight hours and heading north.

He’d have been there with them of course if, when the call came in, he and One hadn’t already been plucking panicking, inexperienced climbers off of one of his favourite crags in the Blue Mountains. His nimble ship was always the most suited to such environments and frankly he could have done it in his sleep.

Oh, but it was such a waste of his time and fuel! Enough awful disasters happened around the world every day without people putting themselves into danger because they were more focussed on researching what shots they wanted for their vlog than on the rating of the climb they were undertaking. The names the Aussies had assigned to each route didn’t exactly help - the latest gaggle of idiots had got half way up “Does my Bum Look Big On This?” wearing entirely inappropriate shorts for the weather and got themselves tangled in each others’ safety lines while trying to take selfies from a distinctly unorthodox angle. It had taken every last ounce of self-restraint he had not to accidentally drop their phones into the ravine.

And the next one to use the word ‘gnarly’ was going to experience an Incident with the passenger loading bay door.

Over the ocean.

At Mach 19.

When had young people got so ridiculous?

And when had he stopped being one? He sighed and dragged his hands down his face. Damn, he really was getting old and grumpy.

And probably hangry, now he thought about it. Well that was fixable even if the inexorable march towards irrelevant middle age was not. He made a beeline for the fridge and found himself uninspired by the array of pre-prepared high calorie low effort snacks they usually favoured post mission. He craved something… nutritious…

Ignoring the imagined old-man mockery of the younger brothers who resided in his brain, he pulled out every fresh ingredient they had in stock: Eggs, bacon, sausages, three types of cheese, peppers, spring onions, basil… ah Ha! He knew exactly what this was going to be. A quick rummage in the larder turned up a bag of potatoes and he hefted it over his shoulder, flicking the switch on grandma’s ancient radio as he went past.

Ooh, ‘Happy 90s Hour’ was starting. One of his guilty pleasures as a teenager in the early 50s…

The repetitive peeling and dicing task combined with the irrepressibly cheery pop bangers slowly eased the knot of grouchiness in his chest. By the time he scooped the mountain of potato cubes into the dustbin-lid sized frying pan he was singing along with both halves of the Barbie Girl duet. A pleasing sizzling ensued and he grinned to himself. This was going to be epic. A little prodding with the spatula to cook them evenly then he turned the heat down and did a little slide sideways to fetch the meat and a shuffle and a hop back to add them to the pan.

As John popped up on the kitchen comm, his big brother was too busy volta-ing through the kitchen with a cheese grater to notice. Because you can’t just walk across a room when Ricky Martin is playing. John’s quizzical single eyebrow was rapidly joined by its twin as he spotted the pan on the stove… he cut the connection and leapt into the elevator, sending a message to Virgil to put his proverbial foot down.

Frittata Night was not to be trifled with.

And so it was that all four younger brothers took the elevator up from the hangar together and arrived in a state of some excitement for the culinary experience that awaited them.

As the door opened however Virgil threw out his arms to prevent them piling out. The chatter stopped immediately as they peered round the wall of brother to spy their eldest dancing to and fro at the stove and belting out the words to some ancient pop song:

So hold on to the ones who care

In the end they’ll be the only ones there

When you get old and start losing your hair

Can you tell me who will still caaaaare?

As the chorus dropped so did the jaws of Alan and Gordon for who knew their biggest brother could move his hips like that? And why was he waving the spatula that way? Alan looked wide eyed to John and pointed with a shaking hand as if to ensure his space brother was seeing the same thing he was. John, didn’t acknowledge him, instead staring straight ahead, tapping a finger on the doorframe in time with the beat. Gordon turned to Virgil unable to verbalise beyond “bu.. bu… bu…” only to find his tank of a brother smiling broadly and… his jaw dislocated further… also swaying his hips in time.

Then he was gone.

… And so was John!

Both of them jigging across the floor to join their brother in an honest to goodness dance routine while the three of them sang nonsense words. Alan lost control of his knees and collapsed cross-legged to the floor. Gordon desperately tried to grab his phone to record the moment but fumbled and dropped it down the back of the couch. And then it was over.

And there was frittata.

And if the Tinies were unusually quiet during the meal, the elder three didn’t notice as each treasured the memories of their little dance trio ‘performing’ for their biggest fan. While eating her signature dish.

Fin.

*****

You want the dance routine? Course not… but here is is anyway (Scott starts singing at about 0:40, chorus and excellent hip action kick in at about 0:52)

Edit to add: Weirdly specific note because the precise image is apparently super important to me (clearly been sucked in by the child watching Strictly) and because I forgot there are two types of Volta… this is the move I mean - the samba one (skip to 1:44 of the video and it’s just a few seconds).

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #thunderfluff #ridiculousness #90s music #frittata #probably nobody ever made a song fic of this one before #probably for good reason #earworm warning #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

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standbyric · 1 year

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"Tsu"-ndere much?

Pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x female!reader Premise: High School AU Rating: G (couple of cheese, suspended ending, because I might wanna turn this into a series because Yuki I swear is so cute… in a manly way.) Word Count: 1.4k Sum: Spicy Yuki and bubbly you.

"HOLY shit!"

Yuki jumped back in utter shock at you suddenly popping in front of him as soon as he shut his locker door close.

“Show up like a normal person, would you!” He grunted.

“Good morning, Yuki! Oh, wait—it’s no longer morning, tehee!”

Yuki cursed under his breath as he heard the subtle giggle from his teammates behind him. He wiped his face with his hand abruptly, glaring at them, who had made it their hobby to make fun of their ace.

As usual, there was no point in arguing with you. And as usual, you didn’t lose your smile; instead, it was getting bigger.

“Here! You handed him a neatly wrapped lunchbox. “I didn’t put pickles, and I put a lot of sausages, just the way you like it! Eat lots, darling!”

“Oh, and I made enough for the boys, too. Eat slowly, boys. I know my cooking is delish and all, but I don’t want you guys to choke.” You gave them a wink before skipping your way through the busy hallway, saying you’ve got a council meeting to attend to.

And his friends could no longer hold back their laughter.

Yuki tensed his forehead in frustration.

Alright, he had to admit you had an exceptional talent for cooking.

Your lunches always looked lovely and professional, and they always tasted amazing. He’d even bet if you were to open a restaurant, you’d definitely succeed.

But this was you he was talking about. That one girl with a ta~d bit too much energy who wouldn’t shut up about her crush on him.

Like that one time when you thought it was a good idea to scream his name with a megaphone from the 3rd floor, startling him so bad that he threw the basketball into the teacher’s office. Although he did get away with it after an extra ten laps (on top of his usual twenty) around the field. Plus, a week on toilet duties.

Or that time when you insisted on washing his basketball uniform after accidentally pouring a bottle of red paint all over it. But then you just had to mistake the bleach for a detergent. He didn’t even complain and just quietly took his all-white (should’ve been dark blue) uniform from your hand.

But ever since that day when you confessed to him confidently with a bouquet of flowers in the open field, making him the Juliette to your Romeo, he’s made it his priority to ignore you and all your antics. After all, common sense just doesn’t sit right with you.

Yuki was just your ordinary high school boy who loved basketball more than anything. He wasn’t the school’s ace for no reason. To him, love and dates were less than secondary matters. They were nothing more than distractions that’d get in the way of his practice,

At first, he didn’t want to give his two cents about you. But after your constant wooing for his affection, it was just a matter of time before everyone at school begin to ship the hell out of you two.

Well, come on.

You were this cute, adorable, and brainy Student Council Vice President who was literally a bundle of radiance brimming with charisma, that people just pass on your shenanigans as your charm. Who else could be more fitting for you if not Yuki Tsunoda, the basketball team’s ace, who’d been constantly scouted by big universities specialising in basketball?

His name had also sat proudly on the regional high school tournament as the MVP for two years straight.

“But dude, like, I applaud her consistency,” Liam hissed in between his laugh.

“You know, if you’re gonna be so grumpy over that lunch, you can always give them to me. They’re like a hundred times better than the school cafeteria,” Marc added, his eyes fixed on the lunchbox. “I mean, she ain’t bad,” Callum cut in. “And I think she genuinely cares for you, bud.”

Yuki shook his head, scoffing at Callum’s remark. “She’s just overly passionate about this whole ace thing. Like everybody else.”

“Psh, dude. Everyone knows she has a hu~ge crush on you.”

Yeah. Marc wasn’t exactly wrong. You were not less popular than him. But in the span of just a month, you’ve rejected at least ten boys who confessed to you, telling them that Yuki’s gotten a hold of your heart.

Yuki chuckled “Everyone has a hu~ge crush on me, Callum Illiot.”

. . .

Yuki massaged his throbbing temples as he glanced at his textbook. His sighs were followed by the sighs of his friends, who were basically in the same boat as him. He blinked rapidly and pressed his forehead onto his notes as if they could imprint them in his memory.

It was the week before exam, and Yuki was getting a whole lot more sensitive. He’s got his hands full with training for the upcoming tournament, but the principal decided it was a good idea to exclude anyone from the tournament if they were to score beyond average.

If only studying was as easy as chasing a moving, bouncing ball on the field.

“This is killing me,” he mumbled, burying his face in the palm of his hands.

Two hours.

This was seriously the longest time he’s ever been in the sacred place called the school library.

One thing about Yuki, he was persistent.

So when his friends have all left, saying they fear the rotting of their brains was near if they kept up the holy activity of studying, he insisted to stay and re-read everything.

Unfortunately, he just couldn’t progress. In fact, he seemed to feel less intelligent than before.

“You know, darling, you can always use my help.”

“HOLY FUCK!”

Yuki jolted at your sudden appearance before being forcefully removed from the library for shouting.

As usual, you always have the weirdest but fitting timing to pop out. Just as he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, you showed up.

But, no. This was really not a good time to have you pester him with all your antics.

He quickly stood up, hand fumbling over his book and papers when you pulled his hand. “You could really use my help,” you whispered.

He grunted, releasing your grip on his wrist as he made his way outside the library (kicked out from shouting).

He was trying to walk faster, passing through the crowd of students. Shockingly, you were able to keep up, tailing closely behind him with your usual grin. Seriously, how were you able to keep up?

“Why are you chasing me?” He thwarted.

“Err, I don’t know?” You giggled. “Maybe because you’re running away?”

So he stopped abruptly, making you crash onto his toned back.

He turned around, wearing that antagonised look on his face. It was obvious to anyone looking that he was testing his patience with you.

“Look, I don’t know if saying this would make you understand but, I really don’t need your help. In fact, just, leave me alone. Please?” But upon seeing your lips slowly stretching into a smile, he knew that his words were useless.

“Oh my God. My darling just talk in full sentence with me!” You shrieked, enough to put the two of you into the spotlight now.

For the umpteenth time, Yuki sighed again.

Of course.

He should’ve known better; common sense didn’t exist in your dictionary.

“Stop being so all over me,” he rustled, turning his back from the unwanted attention as he continued to stroll along the corridor.

You, too, continued to stroll along behind him. “Why why why? I’m doing this because I want to!” You linked your arm onto his, your smile almost never leaving your face. You were looking at him like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Stop it,” he stifled his grunts as everyone started cheering.

“Come on. I can really help. I’ve heard everything from the principal. Besides, we could use the time to get to know each other better!”

“I said stop!” he barked, tossing your hand away from his.

For a moment he’s forgotten to control his strength, until he saw you stumbled backwards, your head about to kiss the ground.

So without a second thought, he grabbed your wrist, hand gripping your waist as he pulled you into his chest.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to go wild.

And it was only a matter of seconds until he felt your heart beating against his chest, going faster and faster. And he saw your cheeks burning red as you turned your head away from him, avoiding his gaze.

So he quickly released you from his grip. “Just. Stop.”

With that, he walked away. Leaving you behind with the crowd’s cheer, oblivious to his last statement.

You, too, quickly turned around, marching your way to your class as you squeezed your books closer to your chest.

Hehe 🤡 Yuki is the definition of alpha. Sorry for the suspended ending haha but I just needed to get this out of my system. Anyway, please do share and reblog this for more Yuki writings and since it took me some hours to render that super short gif. Yeah, well, my computer hasn't exactly been friendly with photoshop.

#Yuki tsunoda #formula one fanfiction #formula one au #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #yuki tsunoda fic #high school au #female reader #standbyricfic #sbrgif #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #yuki tsunoda fanfic #formula one high school au #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda gif

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steam-beasts · 1 year

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Thomas and the Magic Railroad

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

Chapter One; Really Reliable and Always on Time

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

Hello there, my name is Mr Conductor. Well..."Mr Conductor the Third", but like the others beforehand, I just go by Mr Conductor anyway. Now, where were we? Oh yes, now I remember...I'm here to tell you a story.

A story about heartbreak, magic, folks far apart and the magic railroad that brought them all together.

The story begins with a little blue engine who was late to the big station...

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

It was another beautiful day on the island of Sodor. The Northwestern Railway was as busy as usual, especially at Knapford Station where Gordon was waiting semi-patiently for his express coaches. Thomas was supposed to have shunted them to him by now, but he appeared to be running late.

Please stay a metre away from the gap to ensure safety, folks!" The guard called out, ushering everyone away from the edge of the platform. They all grumbled in discontent. Gordon felt exactly the same, looking around for a certain blue tank engine.

"Oh, where is that tank engine with my coaches? I'm going to be LATE! The express is NEVER late!" He grumbled, looking up at the clock. He then heard a high pitched whistle, but to his dismay it wasn't Thomas – it was Percy and his mail train. He stopped beside him on the other track as some men from the mini post office came out hauling bags of parcels and letters to load on his mail cars.

Percy peeped brightly "Good morning, Gordon! Aren't you supposed to be away with the Express?" He asked, noting the time.

Gordon wheeshed grumpily "I WOULD already be gone, Little Percy. But unfortunately, Thomas hasn't shunted in my coaches yet, and the Express can't go! It's...it's...disgraceful!"

"...I mean, I personally don't think it's disgraceful. So what if the Express is delayed?" Percy said, genuinely not understanding Gordon's grumpiness.

Gordon scoffed "Pah! You tank engines will never understand the importance of the Express!"

Percy huffed, rolling his eyes "Oh whatever, Galloping Sausage" he muttered loudly. He heard his mail truck's doors slam shut and whistled before heading off once again, leaving Gordon by his lonesome once more.

Gordon groaned at Percy's dismissive attitude "Silly tank engine. Important engines like me can't wait around like this..." he eyed the clock, thinking back to Thomas and narrowed his eyes "...I swear, I'll begin counting seconds if Thomas is anymore late" he grumbled

_________

This is where the "little blue engine" I mentioned earlier comes in. Thomas was sleeping in his shed that day, unknowing of how late he was. I still wonder why his crew didn't bother waking him? Then again, they were probably letting him sleep since he had to pull a late night goods train the other night...

Edward yawned as he rolled out of his berth, stopping momentarily to take in his surroundings. Soon, he began hearing faint snores coming from a couple berths away and gazed over to see none other than Thomas sleeping in his berth.

The old engine looked up at the clock, knowing that the Express was nearly due in a few minutes. Edward then quietly gasped, spotted Thomas' crew who were both sitting on some stools drinking coffee and reading some books.

Edward's surprised look turned into one that was certainly not impressed in the slightest.

"Excuse me?!" Edward whispered harshly, luckily catching the man's attention. The driver looked up at Edward with a grumpy look "What?" He asked bluntly.

"Why aren't you waking Thomas up?! He's got to help prepare the express!"

The driver simply shrugged "Late night yesterday, Ed. Let an engine sleep" He remarked flatly before focusing on his book once more. Edward tutted at this behaviour, and so decided to take matters into his own...erm...wheels.

Slowly and quietly, Edward steamed on to the turntable, instructed the operator and carefully, the turntable creaked as it turned the Larger Seagull to face the E2's berth. Edward then puffed forth in as much silence as he could make, and gently but firmly biffed Thomas.

Thomas jolted a bit and woke up instantly, backing up a little. Once he saw it was only Edward, he smiled and laughed tiredly "Oh, Edward. I didn't hear you coming!" was what he said quietly before yawning. Edward smiled apologetically.

"My apologies, Thomas. But I needed to wake you because...well...you're running late" Edward replied stiffly.

"What do you mean? I've got..." Thomas's eyes wandered up to the nearby small clock tower, which showed it to be 7:30; he was supposed to be at Knapford.

"...NO TIME!" He exclaimed, eyes as wide as his wheels the more he looked at the time. He glared down at his crew, fuming at their lack of responsibility "Driver! Fireman! Why didn't you wake me?!" He exclaimed, a bit angrily. The crew exchanged annoyed glances before begrudgingly getting up and into Thomas's cab.

"Bye Edward!!!" He said to the older engine, who had already reversed off the turntable to make room. Edward watched contently as Thomas was put on the right track and steamed off, whistling goodbye. The K2 whistled back.

He couldn't help but chuckle "Silly lad"

_________

Back at Knapford, it was currently 7:45 and the passengers were getting a bit more irritated. They began questioning when the express was going to depart, much to Gordon's worry. Gordon was now counting each passing minute in seconds, knowing that Thomas hadn't arrived. Yes, he was THAT stressed.

Time was ticking...

"5, 6, 7, 8..." Gordon slowly counted, only to be caught by surprise as his coaches suddenly bumped into him from behind "Gah!"

"Who do we appreciate?" He heard Thomas playfully call out to him as he shunted the coaches towards Gordon, who wasn't impressed "Practicing your numbers, Gordon? That's a good engine!" He puffed cheekily as he switched to another track and stopped beside him.

"I mean, I– I was just counting every second and minute you weren't here, Little Thomas, and you're late with my express coaches!" Gordon stammered incredulously. Thomas rolled his eyes "C'mon, Gordon. There's no harm in being late once in a while! It may not be ideal, but we can't always be early!"

Gordon scoffed "Ha! You wouldn't be saying that to Sir Topham Hatt. His engines are supposed to be really reliable and always on time!". Thomas sighed, knowing he was right but rolled his eyes anyway. Gordon's nothing but a fusspot.

"Well, you've got your coaches NOW. Don't you, Gordon?"

"Yes, but now the Express is –"

"- gonna be late, i know!" The tank engine said with a light-hearted laugh "You worry too much, Gordon!" . Gordon hmph-ed snootily after his passengers boarded. He whistled as he puffed quickly away in a wheesh of steam, away to Vicarstown. Thomas blew raspberry at Gordon while he wasn't looking, much to the botheration of his crew.

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!!" The big engine yelled grumpily, disappearing around the corner. After a moment's silence, Thomas's driver popped his head out of the cab window "Oi Thomas, better get a move on to your branchline" He said gruffly.

Thomas rolled his eyes and whistled with pep as he went back to fetch Annie and Clarabel.

Little did he know, in the distance, a Class 42 Warship diesel was watching from behind an old set of untouched trucks. A menacing hydraulic claw attached to his roof.

He watched the scene unravell with a twisted grin on his face.

"The clock's tickin', teapots. Once me and my new pal find the lost engine, you'll all be nothin' but a forgettable memory! Hahaha!!" He cackled as he oiled away.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile in Sir Topham Hatt's office, the controller was on the phone with a friend who lived far from him.

"Now, I know I asked you this before, but are you DEFINITELY sure you can handle the railway for two weeks, especially with the engines?" He asked the person on the other end.

"Positive, sir! I've straightened out a plentiful amount of troublesome trucks in my time working with you. Besides, it's always an honour for the Conductor family to help out on the Sudrain railways"

The stout man chuckled "Well, don't be too harsh or too soft on them. They must keep up the good work!"

"Of course, sir. I'll see you tomorrow" the man on the other end said before hanging up.

That was me! I always love visiting Sodor and helping out...by Sir Topham Hatt's invitation of course. The magic railroad – something that will be spoken more of later on – was secretly connected to Sodor, and is a main base for my family members.

Sir Topham Hatt sighed happily and set down the phone before longingly gazing towards the window. He was hoping that things would be ok, especially with one of his more...delinquent engines back on the island.

The engine was a diesel with quite a bad reputation and attitude.

All the controller hoped was for the railway to stay in one piece while he is gone. He'd hate for anything bad to happen to any of the engines. What if that delinquent diesel tries to stir trouble again? Or one of the engines have a nasty accident?

Oh, who's he kidding? His friend will be able to handle it...

... won't he?

Well, we'll find out soon...

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte thomas #tatmr #ttte edward #ttte gordon #thomas and the magic railroad #TATMR rewrite #Spotify #fanfic

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huxs-waifu · 3 years

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The cloak seems intent on luring Dr strange to a woman, a strange woman. the cape wants him to get some nookie? Welcome to Earth-1992

Dr strange x Diabetic! original character romance, humour, smut and some Greek mythology.

Hello and welcome, hope you enjoy this fiction. Although this is a self-insert for me, I've left descriptions as little as possible so pretty x reader friendly

Playlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/650653939084279808/via

please like, comment feed back and Reblog if ya like it !

A03 link here

Masterlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/670776247958257664/10000-nights-masterlist-the-cloak-seems-intent

Eventual Smut . Romance, Fluff and Smut,Cloak of Levitation (Marvel),Romantic, Comedy,Meet-Cute,Diabetes,Diabetic Reader,Medical Conditions, Daddy Kink,Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship,Oblivious Stephen Strange,FlirtingArguing

Chapter one - Daddy issues

***no warnings***

I was confused, yes I'm a bad diabetic. Having a hypo and running out of supplies. I would have to go via the convenience store on the way home when my brain unscrambled. Resting against a wall for a few seconds closing my eyes letting the black-spotted vision of the low overtake me a few seconds, feeling weightless. Pitter patter of rain started falling around me, wetting through my hair and hoodie. In vein pulling the hood up for protection Opening back my eyes I spotted an open door. The next thing was very curious, It appeared to be a floating cloak. Waving of all things.

Scrunching my nose taking a wet step forward, the vision I was seeing seemed to be beckoning me in. shaking, rubbing the rain dripping from the soaked hoodie that was falling in my eyes. Reaching the steps. The cloak seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke as I reached the top. Still confused from the hypo, the sugar hitting in, looking into the dark house, intensively reaching for the handle as if it was my own home.

"What are you doing here?" A tall, lean man in a blue threadbare robe seemly appearing out of nowhere, reaching a hand out to stop the mine.

"Look I don't know ok! I'm currently very confused and disoriented, I'm not drunk." slurring slightly from the low blood,british accent still distinct.

"Oh your British, lost your tour group or something? " resting on the frame, crossing his arms.

"I would have maybe if I hadn't been living in New York for the last three years. I followed the cloak."

"What are you Alice in wonderland now? you shouldn't be here on my property"

"You say I shouldn't be on your property but your door is wide open. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't one else." Snatching away my hand from the handle.

"I should be lucky some uninvited girl freely walks into my home, sopping wet."

"Well with that attitude it doesn't sound like you get many girls in here wet. grumpy old man"

"Big talk coming from such a small girl. I could get any woman here I please."

"Well, I must not please you then ." Flipping him the finger turning to go down the steps. The sun now peeking out the rain stopping reaching the bottom of the steps and turning back up to him. Still leaning on the door frame, a smug look on his face even more now. "Last chance to be a hero, old man!"

"If only you knew little one."

"Argh why did I even bother trying to help"

-----------

There weren't many opportunities for Stephen to attend one of Tony's parties but this one he felt like he needed to go to upon arrival in an alcove making sure the portal closed behind him before stepping forward. A small waitress scurried by holding wine, the cloak literally yanked after her like a dog chasing sausages.

"Woah Woah. No, you don't." Trying to walk the opposite way. Looking over his shoulder at the pulling cloak. The waitress bends over to pick up the glasses. Showing off her curvy figure in a tight black skirted uniform taking a rare moment to admire out of the corner of his eye. She stood back up turning to face him and pulling the cloak. That face registered in his mind, it's the same girl that was at the sanctum a couple of days ago now not wet was the first thing to rush to his mind. wavy brown hair bouncing around her face and sunny smile. ”oh no you dont were going this way or I'm portalling you back with wong for the night." Finally getting the cloak to move the same way. He went to seek Tony , finding him talking to pepper. He promptly walked up and poking him in the back, heat rising in him as Tony turned to face him.

"Why is she here?" Stephen pointing at a waitress, in a crude manner, like a child would do at a toy he wanted.

"Chrissy? Why wouldn't she be here? She is the new hire for my functions."

"Then how do you explain her turning up on my doorstep a couple of nights ago."

"I didn't know you knew her."

"I don't. The Cape, let her in. I sent her packing she claimed to be lost. not just sniffing around the Sanctum"

"The wizard doesn't know serendipity clearly." Tony bursting out laughing.

"Tony, you've not set this all up as a joke? You can't be that intent on getting me laid" scoffing at the thought he'd need any help.

"Of course I've not. If I had I would have got you, someone, half as pretty as her." Patting him on the shoulder before walking off. “Take it as a gift from the gods”

----------

"Wine, wine" as I looked in the closet, we were running dry. Fiddling with the dates on the wine, trying to find the newest date. The door opened and closed on me. Thinking it was another waitress, I hold out a bottle behind and it dropped, making a smashing sound. Turning winching at the scene following the running wine up to a pair of sturdy boots, long legs, sweeping robes and a waving cape. The shining necklace, illuminating the room with a soft green glow. The dripping wine and glass went in a blink. Hitching my breath at the sudden close quarters “Dr strange right? I don't think i- hang on your the man I flipped off the other night.”

"There's something about you. The cloak wants you near me."

"I can assure you I am a humble waitress. Meeting you the other day was a weird occurrence but I didn't plan it." stepping closer, face next to phosphorescent in the light of the necklace.

“Stalking me are you or do you want something of me?”

“Stalking you!” chuckling at the thought. “If anything your the one stalking me, you following me in here.” poking at his chest, feeling bold' hooking at the necklace then quirking a brow looking into the dazzling light.

"What are you half my age or something? I'm too old for you you shouldn't be flirting with me" batting the hand away.

"I'm 28, I'm a grown woman. Yes, you're a handsome man I've come across twice. What would age matter though at a time like this?"

"Oh just fuck me already and get your daddy issues out of the way then will you." Clearly not taking my answer as truth.

"How noble of you to offer your body to a lowly waitress, oh supreme sorcerer takes me in this closet now.” place my head against my head pretending to faint. “I do not have daddy issues"

Apon that the Cape whooshes around with the side of strange twisting him and pulling him close to me wrapping round drawing me in close and tying us up in a bind.

"Seems like the Cape wants us to have time out together." Strange mentions his arms staying tense by his sides

"I think it had more than a time out planned." Struggling against the material. my boobs pushed flat against his equipped chest, stopping the struggling when starting to feel the rumble of vibrations rattling more rapidly. The Cape had decided to hold the back of my head to his heart, cradling me in a loving form. The collar forced him to angle his head down to look at me too. Looking up at the man I was embraced within a warm blanket, blurting out what I saw for the first time that night. "You have wonderful eyes, you know Mr strange."

Grunting slightly at the observation as if he knew already, his gloved hands relaxing slightly "As do you," returning the compliment, his head cocking "I've never seen blue as dark as yours." The steady heartbeat of the two of us echoed in the closet walls, the entwined position making the heat from Dr Strange even more noticeable than when he arrived.

The door opened on us, making the noise of the party wake us, bright light shining in. Tony stood there, saying loud and clear making a few heads in the room turn. "You know if you wanted to play 7 minutes in heaven with the staff I could have let you have the cabana."

Part 2 - can be found here

#stephen strange x oc #stephen strange x reader #dr strange x reader #dr strange smut #eventual smut #diabetic character #Diabetes #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #stephen strange imagine #dr strange x oc #marvel fanficion #dr strange x you

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kaijusplotch · 3 years

Text

Deaging clones fic wip

so this is titled "Rejuvination" and i wanna share this so...ENJOY!

Cody was glad that the latest campaign was over. It had been hell for the 212th and the 501st. While casualties had been low, it was still a blow to each battalion. They felt too much, sometimes, both Rex and himself; as well as their generals. Something heavy was hanging over The Negotiator, and he was sure that was the same over on The Resolute.

“Cody, we need to change course,” Obi-Wan said softly as they stood on the bridge.

“Sir?” Cody frowned worriedly, wondering what it was that pulled his general off of their return route to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan just smiled and patted Cody’s shoulder. “It’s nothing bad. The Force is...pulling me toward something. But it’s a good feeling.”

Cody eyed his general, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head. “Alright. Should we let The Resolute know?”

“Yes, if Anakin hasn’t sensed it as well. There’s a planet that has a strong force presence; a peaceful one. It must be a well of the Force or something like it.”

Cody hadn’t seen his general so relaxed in a long time. If this detour was going to give Obi-Wan a little more peace, then Cody was all for it. He smiled and nodded to Siren. “Send the coordinates to The Resolute. I think we’ve all earned a little detour/shore leave.”

The command center was filled with cheers from the clones, and soft laughs from the nat-born administrators. Some peace and quiet (or as much as Cody could get from some of his men) would be nice. He just hoped Waxer didn’t try to adopt any local wildlife.

The planet was uninhabited by any sentient species, which was a surprise to Cody. The air was safe, even had safe food and water if they wanted to have a snack. What seemed to be what drew the Jedi was a strange abandoned temple. What drew Cody’s, and by extension most of the exhausted 212th and 501st command structure were the hot springs.

“You should enjoy yourselves while here,” Obi-Wan said with a small smile. “The scanners are working on the shuttle; there’s no need to be on edge.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Cody watched his General carefully. He seemed already to be so much more at ease, he wanted to thank whatever deities existed.

“Very. Nothing bad will happen here.” Obi-Wan was so confident in his assessment that Cody had no choice but to have faith in him.

“All right.” Cody sighed and looked up as the sound of another shuttle breaking atmosphere broke the peaceful silence. He smiled, noticing the nose-art of the two LA/ATs settled down besides the 212th. Cody was excited to see his little brother, and hopefully catch up on the chaos that the Domino Squad was no doubt causing.

“Hey Master!” Anakin cried as he jumped from the shuttle, beaming and stretching. Behind him Ashoka was already pulling an exhausted looking Rex from where he had settled.

“Anakin, Ashoka,” Obi-Wan said with a smile as he walked to meet them.

“General, Commander, Rex’ika.” Cody grinned when Rex just glared at him.

“Really, Cody?” Rex grumbled.

“I’ve effectively been given a short term leave by Obi-Wan. I can call you whatever I want.” Cody beamed and punched his brother’s shoulder playfully. He looked up when the rest of the 501st came out, smiling as they mingled with brothers from the 212th.

“You’re right, Master. This place feels...so bright and light!” Ashoka smiled and closed her eyes as she stood with her masters.

“General Kenobi says there’s nothing here to be worried about, I have to believe him, if only for how much better he looks,” Cody said, smiling at the young Torgruta. “Although I’m more interested in the hot springs.”

“Hot springs?” Anakin and Ashoka asked with bright smiles.

“Sorry, claimed first use,” Rex joined in, looking more eager than he was before.

“I want to meditate anyway first. The old temple is this way.” Obi-Wan beckoned the other two Jedi away and toward the eroded stone ruins on top of the small hill looking over the deeper valley below them.

“I’m up for hot spring dip!” Hardcase chirped beaming and already stripping out of his armor as he hurried away.

“YES! C’mon Boil!” Waxer grabbed his twin and dragged the other ARF trooper toward the several large hot springs tucked close to the mountain side.

Cody snorted and looked to the rest of the troops who were joining in with the rush to fresh hot water. “C’mon. Maybe we can find a pool that won’t be full of chaos.” He pulled Rex along at a more sedated pace, soaking in the good feelings and bright warm sunlight filtering through the trees as they stepped under them.

Already piles of blue and orange-gold armor were on the edges of the pools, with a few piles of blacks already. hanging on low hanging branches. Cody spotted the Domino squad chatting away with Jesse, Kix, Waxer, and Boil. He was glad to see that even with Echo and Fives going off on missions with other units, they were still close with Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup.

“This one’s small, but no one else is here,” Rex called past a small collection of small shrubs and thin seedlings.

Cody smiled, spotting the ten foot wide pool and nodded. “Brotherly bonding time it is then.” He said smirking and pulling his armor off and piling it to the side, stripping down completely.

“Oh come on, leave your briefs, I don’t want to see your junk, Cody!”

“We have the same junk.” Cody rolled his eyes and tossed his shorts over a branch before walking into the hot water. He hissed a bit before settling down and finding a rock to sit on, leaning back against the edge of the pool with a sigh. “Never knew you’d become such a prude.”

“I have a 14 year old FEMALE Padawan on the ship.” Rex grumbled, settling in next to his brother in his underclothes. “AND she’s here on planet.”

“Oh...kriff, good point.” Cody frowned and stood to turn around. “OI! Someone better be on watch to stop Ashoka from walking in on the sausage festival!” Cody cried to the loud chatter of his brothers. The answering “KRIFF!” explained all he needed, even as he heard water splashing and yelling at brothers to toss each other their shorts.

“See?” Rex tossed Cody’s shorts in his face and smirked.

Cody glared and splashed him back before putting the shorts back on. “Shit head,” he spat, although it just felt good to not be a soldier and just be an older brother.

“Shebs kisser.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

Rex burst out laughing and Cody couldn’t help but join him. It felt good; he felt younger than he had in - well - forever. He held his breath and dunked under the water, rubbing his face.

“Gods this feels so good…” Rex said with a deep sigh.

“Second that, Rex.” Cody leaned his head back, closing his eyes and letting the hot water and the peaceful energy soak into his muscles and bones.

The laughter and splashing of the sixty-some brothers in the other larger pools was a siren song and Cody slowly found himself falling into a restful drifting sleep; even as a few voices sounded slightly different. Nothing bad would happen here. His General promised him.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly how long he, Anakin, and Ashoka had been meditating, but when he finally felt the gentle caress of awareness brush his consciousness he finally allowed himself to come out of the meditation. Opening his eyes he had to hold a small chuckle at the sight of both his Padawan and grand-padawan sprawled across each other in a peaceful sleep. The lines of stress across their faces were gone; like they never happened. Even their force signatures were lighter and brighter; even the super-nova-like brightness of Anakin’s.

“Anakin, Ashoka,” Obi-Wan gently prodded, poking their feet. He was rewarded by a very classic Anakin whine and grumpy face. Obi-Wan openly laughed at that. It had been so long.

“Ugh! Master, I don’t want to get up!”

“We should, especially if we want to go to the hot springs, Master.” Ashoka slowly uncurled from where she was sleeping and stretched. She looked like a Tooka as she yawned widely and arched her back; another reminder for Obi-Wan of her carnivorous nature.

“I should make sure that the boys are at least decent.” Obi-Wan stood and stretched, feeling his aches gone and his heart lighter. “Come on, both of you up. It’s nearly sundown and we should be getting back to the ships soon.”

He left to the complaints of both of his friends, knowing well that they wouldn’t leave before everyone had had a soak. He wasn’t as cruel as he played. Besides, Obi-Wan hadn’t felt this good in years. The Force was soothing and rejuvenating; lifting the years of weight that seemed to double from the war.

The path down into the small group of trees near was clear of any stones, although the piles of armor that were peeking out from between bushes and shrubs broke up the monotony of neon green and purple. The sound of a panicked scream broke through the peaceful chatter of aves and other creatures, causing anxiety to well in Obi-Wan’s heart.

“Cody?!” Obi-Wan rushed forward, abandoning his outer cloak to the wind. He burst through the bushes that blocked the path and drew his saber, only to stare in shock.

Sixty high ranking clones were staring back at Obi-Wan with wide, slightly shocked, slightly terrified, brown eyes. Most were scrambling to hold up their too-big under clothes as they abandoned the pools, some were swimming in their blacks, some were trying to use their armor to hide their nudity. Cody and Rex were part of the first group, staring up at Obi-Wan. Every single one between the ages of ten and 12.

“Oh dear…”

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papermoonish · 3 years

Text

when the weather changed

"Wait for me!"

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

autumn brings weather changes and simple sweetness. for kirishima and bakugou it comes first in the shape of friends and then each other

read on AO3 or keep reading here

Kiri is on the roof of the school building. There are mesh fences keeping the small spot up in the air secluded - safe. He's sitting on the floor, his back to the wall hiding the staircase, eyes closed and head leaning against the concrete.

The air tastes like crisp autumn, fresh and cold with the promise of warmth tingling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later. The door opens and Kirishima straightens up, opens his eyes and reaches for his water bottle. With two quick movements he looks busy. Nothing weird going on here.

"Hey man," he smiles, and Denki waves back.

"Yo dude. I was looking everywhere for you."

Denki drops besides him, loose and easy. His shoulder brushes Kirishima's as he’s reaching for the food in Kiri's lap, stealing a small piece of pre-cut sausage. He's warm, body slumping against his friend with a content sigh.

"Ah sorry! What's up?”

Denki pops his lips, pulls up his phone and scans the screen quickly before tapping away on it. He's sitting cross-legged, his knee occasionally bumping against Kiri's thigh. He steals another piece of sausage and chews it a little too loudly but it’s okay. Kirishima appreciates the company.

"Didn’t see you at lunch and thought you might've run away with a hot girl into a future unknown.”

Kirishima snorts and shakes his head, red hair doesn’t move an inch. Next to him Denki cracks his knuckles, but only the ones on his left hand.

"In the middle of a Monday?”

"Who am I to question the timely manners of love, bro."

"Bro."

They laugh and the wind picks up a bit, messing up Denki's hair. As he tries to fix it he lets out a loud groan. Kiri reaches up to tuck a few strands back with the others.

"Nah dude, I'd never leave you behind."

"You better won’t. Blasty would have my ass if he heard you got away and I knew."

There’s an implication between the words, simmering right in the space left after them. Kirishima blinks and shakes it off, smiles until the dimple on his right cheek shows up.

"He has your ass for everything. He owns it."

"HE DOES NOT OWN MY ASS!"

Kiri giggles, downs the rest of his water and rubs his nose. The movement causes Denki to sway a bit, still leaning on his friend. He catches himself and sits up, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's gay," he snickers.

"Denki-"

"No Ei,” he raises his hands in defeat, pouting, “I simply do not wanna think about Bakugou in a sexual way."

"That’s not even close to what I said."

"It was IMPLIED!"

"IT WASN’T!"

They’re shoving at each other now, laughing and the water bottle drops, rolls away across the deck. The rest of Kirishima's lunch nearly falls too, but just at the last second he remembers and puts it aside. Seeing an opening, Denki throws himself at Kirishima and they both topple over. Denki is snorting, Kiri is chuckling. The sun shines.

"EW, DUDE!"

The wet stripe Denki licked across Kirishima's palm glistens in the autumn weather and Kiri is fast to wipe it at Denki's dress shirt.

"You're so gross."

"Excuse me? You have a crush on Bakugou, that's nasty!"

"Ughh,” Kirishima hides his face in his hands, “don’t bring that up."

"You can't censor me, this is a free country."

Their laughter fades at the same time as the sunshine, covered by a few thin clouds moving across the blue. Lunch is coming to an end and Kiri hears Denki's bones pop from stretching his hands. A rumble in the sky makes a few birds fly up and the boys look up.

"I- … uh-"

Denki rolls onto his side and makes a whole show of getting up, like standing is a dance he owns. He cracks his neck and Kirishima cringes at the sound, worrying his lip.

"I won’t tell him. Drop the pout, lovebird."

He reaches out a hand and Kiri grabs it quickly, and then he gets pulled up from the floor with the sun reappearing. Warmth immediately spreads across their skin.

"Thanks, man.”

Denki waves his hand, grins mischievously.

"Bro, you've got so much more dirt on me. This is self-protection.”

"Bro I’d never tell any of them anything."

"I know, I know. You’re just good like that,” he laughs. "One day either Shinso, Jirou, Sero or Tetsu will notice me. I'm not giving up yet."

"You're helpless," Kirishima shoos away a mosquito. “You should pick one of them to work your charm on.”

"I’d go for you, but your little monkey brain is already wired in the wrong direction, babe."

Kiri fake gags and Denki shoves him, hard. They gather their stuff - meaning Kirishima grabs all his things and Denki starts breakdancing next to him. Denki opens the door and bows, giving him the, "After you, good sir." and Kiri bows right back with a, "Oh my, thank you darling."

The door falls into its lock and clicks shut. A gust of wind picks up and moves the water bottle Kirishima forgot on the deck. It clatters against the mesh fence and rolls a few feet across the floor. It’ll be found later by someone else, surely. Not everyone has a bright red metal bottle with multiple stickers of pictures of his friends. They get back to class and the sun still shines.

* at the same time *

The cafeteria is too loud. There's laughter and screaming, talking, shuffling, things dropping and people running. For Bakugou the cafeteria hurts, it rings all the way through his ears to the bottom of his brain and he furrows his brows while poking chopsticks into rice.

"You want a spoon for the rice soup you’re making there?"

Bakugou flinches, knuckles turning white before the colour slowly creeps back, blood flow released.

"Watch your mouth," he barks into the direction of the person sitting across the table.

"Can’t, I'm eating. You should try it, it’s supposed to be good for you."

"I fucking know, Tapeface. What’s your issue?”

Sero grins before digging back into his chicken, his legs long under the table right under the window. His feet knock against Bakugou's ankles. Neither of them moves.

"What's yours? You're usually not that grumpy at lunch."

Bakugou looks at him for a few seconds, like he's considering, waging something in his head.

"'s loud here," he finally settles on.

"Oh."

Sero blinks, then he grabs his backpack and tray and Bakugou flinches again at the speed of it.

"What are you-"

"Come on big guy, grab your stuff."

"Huh?"

"There's tables outside, next to the gym building."

Oh. That’s right.

When they settle again Bakugou's forehead is still crinkled and Sero pokes him, index finger smudging against his skin. The wrinkles smooth out a bit. Sero puts his phone on the table, screen up. Bakugou can see the small notification LED blinking yellow.

"Ya still look grumpy."

Bakugou shrugs, finally eats his rice like a normal person. Sero hums, low and deep, then rustles inside of his bag and pulls out a juice pouch. There's a drop spilling when he puts the straw in a little too forcefully and Bakugou hands him a napkin.

"I have a goddamn headache."

"Ah."

The wind picks up and the sun vanishes behind thin clouds. The building casts enough shade to cover them and their table fully now and it’s a little colder.

"Maybe Ei can do his magic hands thing later. Doesn't he help sometimes?"

Bakugou shrugs but he averts his eyes, dipping his rice into sauce before shoving it into his mouth. He knows Sero can see through it but he also knows Sero is gentle. He hums again and Bakugou breathes.

"Yeah.”

Sero finishes his food and sips his juice, offering it to Bakugou but obviously being declined. He just shrugs.

"Denki texted me he's on the roof if ya wanna go up and ask."

Bakugou shakes his head, puts the lid back onto his bento box. He catches the way Sero checks at his phone, types away an answer to a message that made him smile.

"Lunch is over in a few anyway."

"You have some rice on your shirt."

"Ah shit."

The sun comes back out and Sero's phone chimes. He glances at it and sighs, swiping the little alarm notification away.

"Back to class then, wonder kid."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Hanta."

"Aw with the first name? You make me blush today."

"Bitch."

"No need to sweet talk me after you had a lunch date with me."

"Oh my fucking god I despise you."

He grabs his bag and then puts the trash from Sero's tray on his own, sliding them together. He carries both. Sero holds the door open for him and Bakugou grunts a thank you. The wind starts howling and the cafeteria is still filled with laughter when they enter.

*later*

The school day ends and the sky is grey. There are dark speckles between heavy clouds and the light turned a muddy yellow. The sun isn't visible and you can’t feel it either, all the warmth traveled further away into other days, future hours. Bakugou's kicking the door to the sky deck open with his foot, the sole squeaking against the heavy metal.

"Fucking bullshit."

There’s a rumble and then rain hits his face and there's a giggle right behind him, echoing in the halls of the stairway.

"Wait for me!"

Bakugou keeps the door open with a snarl.

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

Bakugou looks at him, getting soaked more every second, hair slowly plastering itself against his forehead. Water gets caught in his lashes and drips into his shoes. His socks get wet. He blinks once and Kiri rubs his blushing neck, laughing.

"Yeah," his lip pulls upwards, "wouldn't fucking want that, hah?"

Kirishima bolts out into the rain, Bakugou looks after him before following. There are small puddles on the floor and Kiri steps into them intentionally, grinning as he notices his boots are waterproof enough for his shenanigans.

"All right, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are," Kirishima sing-songs.

"You're so stupid."

"Shhhh maybe it's hiding from us."

"Your water bottle?"

Kiri nods. “Maybe it feels your negative vibes, bro."

"Maybe I’ll make you feel a negative vibe in a second, bro."

It’s an empty threat and Kirishima laughs.

He keeps running and the sky doesn't split open to let light through. Bakugou licks his lips, rainwater on his tongue, and walks towards the fence to the south side. It’s like Kirishima forgot where he sat with the way he's buzzing through the rain, arms spread and face tilted towards the sky.

Bakugou spots his bottle immediately, picks it up with his pinky hooking through the loop on the cap. He inspects the stickers and none of them are peeling. When he turns, Kiri is standing still, looking up at the falling rain, hair bending and bowing under the weather.

"You done with your moment?" Bakugou yells over the noise.

"It’s so nice."

"The rain?"

"Hmh."

Bakugou comes up next to him, holds up the bottle but Kirishima’s eyes are closed. So he bumps the cold metal against the exposed skin under Kirishima’s rolled up sleeves.

"Got the goods."

"Ah! thank you, Blasty."

"You'll never drop that name huh?"

Kiri shrugs and Bakugou watches his shoulders move.

"It’s a good name."

"It’s old as shit. Come up with something better."

"Stop exploding into our faces then," Kirishima turns his head and grins.

"Never."

"That’s what I thought."

Kiri's quiet until Bakugou pulls up his nose. The sky keeps making noises that hint ever so closely at a thunderstorm coming.

"Ah shit, okay let's go back inside. You're soaked!"

"Duh."

"Thanks for coming to look with me though."

They both know Kirishima would’ve found his bottle on his own. They don’t address it though and somehow the knowledge settles between them in the form of physical contact. Bakugou simply accepts the wet arm that’s thrown over his shoulder, it soothes the tension built up in his muscles.

"You can thank me by doing your hand thing."

Kirishima’s head snaps towards him, eyes big and round. There are water droplets in his eyebrows.

"You have another headache? Man, why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Kiri grabs his bottle from Bakugou, their fingers touch. Kiri smiles and walks towards the door. His hand reaches for the handle and it creaks under the movement.

"School," Bakugou says, voice calm while he shrugs.

"Let’s get dry and then I can come over? Whatcha say?"

Bakugou nods, brushes past Kirishima holding the door open. The arm that was around his shoulder slides off and it’s immediately cold where it lay. It’s now freezing in the hallway, especially dripping wet.

"D’you think Sero has a crush on Denki?"

Bakugou huffs, towel rubbing over his ears. They’re in the baths, air warm from their recent shower. The mirror Bakugou stands in front of is fogged up and Kirishima reaches over, hand smearing across the glass until his image is visible.

"I don’t care."

"Come on, gossip with me," Kirishima pokes his finger into Bakugou’s shoulder and the blond doesn’t even turn to look.

"No."

"But you always have the best takes."

"Shut up."

"Katsukiii please."

The towel drops. The sky breaks open and a few late sunbeams work their way through the clouds, illuminating UA in the softest glow. The boys are inside though, the warm bathroom shielding them from the outside, they can’t see.

But Bakugou looks at Kirishima and he simply knows, knows the grey is making space for evening blues and purples, knows the muddy yellow will turn into clear orange.

"I won’t spill Tapeface's secrets."

"Not even to me?" The puppy eyes get ignored.

"Especially not to you, you can't keep your big mouth shut ever!"

"That’s not true! I never spill secrets."

Bakugou unlocks his dorm room door and watches Kiri walk in before him. Bakugou smells his shampoo, it’s a mix of something woody and sweet.

"You're spilling right now."

"Yeah but to you, that’s different."

He sits down in the desk chair, swiveling around a bit. Digging the heels of his feet into the beige carpet. He’s barefoot in Bakugou’s room and it feels intimate. Bakugou snaps a laugh, it’s dry. Kirishima perks up at it.

"It’s not different, you’re making shit up."

"Uh yeah? I like sharing with you?"

"You like talking to everyone."

He drops himself on the floor, back pressed to Kiri's shins and tipping his head back over the redhead’s knees. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it gives Bakugou enough control over the situation. Not that he’d need it here. Kiri's hands gently weave themselves through towel dried blond hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp.

"I like talking to you most though," he says simply.

"Ew."

Kirishima laughs, Bakugou closes his eyes. He lets Kiri work his fingers through his hair, lets his nails scrape and scratch in all the right places and with every minute passing by he feels the headache less and less.

They're quiet for a bit and then he goes, "Hanta's whipped as fuck."

"I KNEW it!"

The ceiling light bathes them in warm white and the sky outside is hidden behind curtains.

#krbk #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #krbk fanfic #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #no hurt just comfort

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Room for Three

Mark X Pregnant Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Genre: Fluff with a hint of angst

Summary: You and your husband Mark were currently shopping for baby furniture to prepare for the arrival of your baby when you stumble upon a pregnancy pillow that you’re so eager to have. However, Mark voices his opinion about how he’s not too fond of the idea and it is in that moment that you find out his concerns goes beyond just a piece of furniture.

A/N: I get inspired by the most randomest things and so I was on instagram scrolling through my explorer and then I saw a husband talking about how his wife bought a body pillow and how it took his place and now I’m sad because WHY AM I NOT MARRIED anyways please enjoy

“Here it is. This is the one all the other ladies were talking about in class the other day. Can you get the blue one for me babe?”

Your husband looked at the body pillow then back at you in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re actually buying this thing? Where is it going to go?” You returned back a look of confusion before crossing your arms indifferently.

“Uh, where else? On the bed with us.”

“Babe, there’s not going to be enough room on the bed for the two of us this thing is huge—“

“Well so am I! And whose fault is that?” You were currently six months pregnant with your first child and trying to fall asleep with your basketball sized baby bump was not the easiest thing to do. Both you and Mark attended a pregnancy class last week and your teacher recommended purchasing a body pillow.

You did your research on where you could find one; not wanting to wait a week for it to come in the mail and that is how you and your Husband found yourselves at an IKEA just fifteen minutes away from your house. The two of you were currently walking around, looking at the different types of furniture you’d want to put in the nursery when you just so happened to stumble on a box filled with multiple body pillows specifically for pregnant women. You couldn’t help but get excited at the idea of finally getting some well deserved rest but seeing Mark’s negative reaction was beginning to ruin the mood.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But you’re at fault here too, I mean look at you! You’re so beautiful baby, and extremely fucking sexy. And now that you’re pregnant, you’re even more gorgeous. I didn’t think it was possible. You glow differently now that you’re pregnant. You’re also a little bit more crankier and extremely spoiled—ow! And abusive. I honestly can’t wait for our little bub to arrive. Not only am I excited to finally meet our baby, but I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe you’re so grumpy because we haven’t been intimate in months. It’s my turn to be inside of you—y/n, slap me one more time and I’m going to do the same to your cute little butt.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment before taking matters in to your own hands and reaching out for one of the pillows. Mark however, was quick to stop you; not wanting you to drain your energy on any physical activity unless you really had to. Pregnancy was such a beautiful experience so far. The two of you have been wanting a child together for quite some time and when you got the news that you were pregnant only four months after your wedding, you and Mark were over the moon.

Mark in more or less words was the perfect husband. He never failed to show you as much as he told you on a daily basis just how much he loved you. When you gave him the news that you were pregnant, he actually cried tears of happiness. Even before the two of you began dating, Mark made it aware that he loved children. He had three extremely adorable nieces and watching the way he would interact with them only made you excited at the idea of starting a family with the love of your life. With the way he would take care of the girls as if they were his own and how he never failed to make them laugh, you knew he would be such an amazing father when the time comes.

Mark was already very attentive and doting whenever it came to you. However, he became clingier the moment you became pregnant. Whatever you needed, he’d get it for you before you could even ask. He was aware that pregnancy was a very tiring and frustrating process, so he wanted to be able to help you if and whenever he could. Although you hated having to bother him, especially because you knew he was probably tired from work; he made it clear that you weren’t going to go through this journey alone and you were extremely grateful and blessed to be able to call him your husband.

You apologized many times for certain things that came with pregnancy; mood swings, weird cravings and your tendency to use the bathroom at the most inconvenient times of the day. There were many occasions were your husband found himself at a McDonald’s drive thru at two in the morning because you were craving a sausage McMuffin and when he did the grocery shopping, he knew to purchase multiple pints of ice cream because you craved a different flavor every single day.

Nothing ever seemed to bother Mark whenever it came to tending to your needs and even if there was something, he was good at not showing it. Unfortunately, this was the first time he seemed hesitant on doing something to help you. You made it known how hard it was for you to fall asleep for the last few weeks because your bump only grew bigger and bigger as the days went by. Mark was quick to agree with taking you to look at the different kinds of pillows there were to accommodate you once class was over, but you were too tired to go out that day.

He was willing to purchase anything in order to make you more comfortable; but he didn’t think the pillow would be that big. Sure, the two of you shared a California king sized bed, but you already took up more than half of the bed with your growing belly to the point where Mark found himself on the floor a few times. If you were to get the pillow, he’d probably have to sleep on the couch.

“Baby, you don’t need this pillow, you have me! I’m warm and I smell better than this thing. And as a bonus, I can actually hold you against my body—Aw come on, don’t look at me like that. You know exactly what your puppy dog eyes do to me—damnit y/n where am I going to sleep then?!”

“Mark, this pillow will be wrapped around me. It’s not as bad as you probably think it is. Don’t you want me to feel at ease? I’ve been so tired these days because I keep tossing and turning in my sleep; trying to find the right position where my bump isn’t in the way.” After releasing a frustrated sigh, your husband made his way toward you and found his place behind you, gently pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around your belly. He left a soft kiss in the crook of your neck before placing his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m being an ass aren’t I? I just—I already can’t hold you in the ways that I used to. I can’t make love to you, I can’t kiss you unless you allow me to because of the hormones. I miss you. I miss being intimate with you and I miss when we could do things together without having to worry about harming you and the baby. Wow, saying it out loud makes me sound so pathetic. Like, I’m jealous of our baby. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy to be having a baby with you. I’ve always dreamt of starting a family with you y/n. It’s just—I thought we would have a little more time to ourselves. You know what? Forget I said anything. Let’s get the pillow and then we can go—“

“Mark.”

Once you turned to face him and saw the upset expression on his face, you couldn’t help but tear up. Hearing him talk about how he felt neglected make your heart hurt. Your husband did any and everything he could to make sure you were comfortable. He did things for you without being asked and not once did he complain. You didn’t even realize how much you’ve been taking advantage of his kindness and focusing more on your baby than you were on him. You felt like a monster.

“Baby I’m so sorry—“ he shook his head before playfully squeezing your cheek and wiped away a tear that fell.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just being silly.” Your brows furrowed in frustration at the thought of how selfish you were being. Sure, you were pregnant and it was a lot to take in; but you were also a wife. Mark deserved love and attention too. How could you be so blind and not see the pain you were putting your husband through?

“No, you’re not being silly—you’re being human. I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on the pregnancy and what I need that I failed to notice what I was doing to you by pushing you away and mistreating you. There’s no excuse for my behavior. But I hope you know I’m very grateful for every single thing you’ve done for me and continue to do for me. I really don’t deserve you. If I’m being honest, I feel the exact way. I miss you too. So much. I’m sorry for being grumpy and emotional all the time. And I’m sorry for my bipolar mood swings. You’re wonderful you know that? You’re the best husband a girl could ask for. I’ll try to be better okay? For your sake. I love you Mark. I don’t think you understand just how much but I plan on spending the rest of my life both showing you and telling you every single day.”

With the way he was looking at you with so much love and adoration after hearing your heartfelt apology, you were sure your heart was about to combust. Mark leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I hope you know that I’m practically going to cling myself to you like a sloth once you start sleeping with this pillow.” You giggled softly before nodding in understanding. He picked up the pillow and placed it in the cart before taking his place behind you as you began walking away. “By the way y/n, I remember your teacher talking about how sex during pregnancy is actually very good for the baby. So maybe once we get out of here, you can show me just how much you love and appreciate me.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

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The Life (of) Surprise (2/4)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). This fic happens a little bit more than a year after Geralt returns home from his last deployment. Warnings: referenced alcoholism and trauma.

(Part 1)

II - A Surprise Is Uttered

The day begins with a sleepless night. For Geralt, not Jaskier. Jaskier is a heavy sleeper, so he has no idea about it until nature’s call wakes him up at half-past three in the morning. The bed is empty so, after relieving herself, Jaskier looks around the house and finds Geralt sitting by the kitchen table. His face is hidden in his hands and there’s an empty mug next to him. It’s the third night in a row that he hasn’t slept at all and Jaskier’s heart breaks for him a little.

They’re supposed to take a little trip to Brighton and return in the afternoon, before Yennefer drops Ciri off at Geralt’s after school. Now, Jaskier decides that the plan changes. In half an hour, they’re both ready to set out. Geralt drives because he already had coffee.

The drive passes in silence. Jaskier dozes off in his seat for some time but after the sun rises, it’s too bright outside for sleeping, and he wakes up slowly. They arrive in Brighton a few minutes after six. Save for occasional joggers and people walking their dogs, the streets are blissfully empty, and so is the beach.

It’s just a quiet, sunny morning like any other. In short: perfect. Jaskier doesn’t have to worry about someone photographing him, or anyone (quite) possibly seeing his proposal being rejected.

The air is slightly chilly as they stand at the shore, the waves almost touching their shoes. Geralt doesn’t say anything, only looks at the water. Jaskier watches him bask in the closeness of the sea. The delicate morning sunlight accentuates all his wrinkles in a stunning way and his white hair is lit up like a halo, gentle breeze ruffling it slightly. Jaskier takes in Geralt’s strong profile, his pretty stubble and his tired, tired eyes, and he thinks to himself that he loves this man so.

Jaskier can’t help but recall everything that happened since Geralt’s return, the good and the bad. All the times Jaskier pushed too far or Geralt was too gruff. The piano lessons with Ciri, and the adorable look on Geralt’s face when he concentrates on playing. The quiet weekends they sometimes manage to squeeze into their lives. Geralt chuckling at Yennefer’s disgusted expression after Jaskier asks her if she’s off to do “hot girl shit” again. (Jaskier knows she actually loves that phrase). How Geralt’s insecurities get better of him some days and he turns into a brooding idiot. The way the two of them are able to have a conversation without words, the way their bodies move against each other when they have sex. The smell of Geralt's sweat after he works out.

How, when they stay over at Geralt’s house, Geralt is always annoyed that Jaskier doesn’t wash the dishes right after using them. How, when they stay over at Jaskier’s house, Geralt always forgets to take his shoes off, much to Jaskier’s dismay. How Geralt is an annoyingly good cook but he’s also really shit at paying the bills on time. How he doesn’t allow Jaskier anywhere near kitchen appliances, which wounds Jaskier’s pride.

All of Geralt’s mannerisms. How he’s grumpy by default but then sees a dog. How Jaskier sometimes wants to talk very much but Geralt doesn’t. How Geralt delivers freaking sermons sometimes. That one time they managed to go out for a drink with Aiden, Eskel and Lambert, and Eskel started talking about his retirement plan involving goat yoga. Lambert nearly went batshit crazy, insisting that there was no way that something like goat yoga existed. Eskel and Jaskier tried to demonstrate how that would work, with Jaskier pretending to be a goat. Lambert, Geralt and Aiden almost pissed themselves laughing. The following day, Ciri woke Geralt and Jaskier by blasting a techno remix of Her Sweet Kiss so loud that the windows rattled. Then Yennefer made them go grocery shopping despite their killer hungover.

How Geralt holds him when unpleasant memories haunt him. How Geralt’s brutally honest when some of his songs suck. How he looks at Jaskier when he sings. His smothering gaze when he calls Jaskier his siren. How he makes sure that Jaskier eats and drinks when he forgets about it himself. How Geralt stands by him and supports him in his career, withstanding all the paparazzi nonsense even though he hates it with passion. How Geralt doesn’t want to know him for who he knows, how he’s always there for Jaskier and never asks for a thing in return.

All of this, and Jaskier suddenly doesn’t know where to start. He only knows that he wants to keep this man in his life so much that there’s hardly any air left in his lungs. His heart is hammering in his chest, his hands are sweating, and he decides to begin with what’s safe.

“Hey, Geralt,” he says, “I love you very, very much, you know that?”

Geralt hmms an affirmative and looks at him. There’s a smile on his face and warmth in his gaze as he answers, “I love you too.”

His golden eyes stand out against the blue of the cloudless sky. Jaskier slowly drowns in them, only the sound of the waves reaching his ears. It seems like only the two of them matter in the world and the reality is a safe distance away. In this state, almost hypnotized, Jaskier simply does what he has to do and gets down on one knee.

“What are you doing?” Geralt demands with a sowl.

His tone isn’t exactly a good sign. Jaskier flashes him a shaky smile and reaches for his hand. Then, he slides the buttercup ring halfway down Geralt’s finger. He didn’t buy a new ring; there’s no need for it really. He only needs to give their old rings new meaning on this seemingly meaningless April morning.

“Geralt, I-I,” he stutters out. His heart is beating so fast that he can’t breathe. He makes himself look up at Geralt, who stares down at him with a frown. Jaskier smiles nervously and forces the words out, “Will you... will you marry me?”

Geralt’s eyes widen and his mouth opens in shock. The silence drags on like eternity and Geralt doesn’t move a single muscle. When he finally does, his lips slowly quirk upwards and his whole face lights up with the tiniest, shiest joy. Jaskier is about to sigh in relief but then Geralt’s answer comes.

“Jaskier,” he grumbles, “get up, you’ll ruin your trousers.”

His trousers are white and it’s indeed a bad idea to kneel on the wet pebbles. As Jaskier gets up, his heart sinks and his head hangs low. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I just–”

He’s still holding on to Geralt’s hand and the ring, so he starts taking it off Geralt’s finger completely. Geralt stops him, though. Jaskier watches in amazement as Geralt’s muscular hands guide his own so that he slips the silver band back on Geralt’s finger.

When the realisation hits him, Jaskier gasps. He looks up at his fiancé, for real this time, and sees Geralt’s whole expression is alight with happiness. The sight takes his breath away. “Geralt...” he begins, but what Geralt does next takes away his ability to speak.

Geralt fucking kneels. Then, he takes Jaskier’s hand and slides the golden wolf signet off Jaskier’s finger. As Geralt looks up at him, he raises an eyebrow in silent question. Jaskier, still rendered speechless, only gives a jerky nod. Geralt grins like he almost never does, sharp teeth on display, and slides Jaskier’s ring back on.

The next moment is a blur. Jaskier, blinded by joy, wants to throw himself at Geralt. Geralt seems to want the same thing because he meets Jaskier halfway. Their bodies collide and they almost fall into the water but Geralt steadies them. Then, they’re standing up, and Geralt holds him tight, so tight that Jaskier may get bruises. Jaskier doesn’t care about that. He’s laughing and Geralt is smiling, truly smiling, and they pepper kisses all over each other’s faces.

“Please say it,” Jaskier whispers hoarsely, “just that one little word,”

Geralt huffs a laugh. He pecks Jaskier on the cheek, then murmurs into his ear, “Yes.”

It’s just one word but it’s said it the gravelly baritone Jaskier will never be tired of hearing, and his heart almost bursts with all he feels at that moment. The need to kiss Geralt stupid is stronger than ever, so he does exactly that. Burying his hands in Geralt’s hair, he brings their mouths together. Geralt lets out a pleased hum and sneaks his strong arms around Jaskier’s waist. The kiss resembles their very first one during the birthday party – it’s deep and slow, the best kind of passionate.

It takes them some time to break apart. When they do, they take off their shoes and take a walk along the shore, ankle-deep in the cold water, holding hands and talking. When Jaskier sees a little fish, he starts naming all the fish that he knows while Geralt laughs at him. Then Geralt wets his hand in the sea and puts it against Jaskier’s nape because he’s a bastard. They’re a moment away from splashing war when Jaskier’s stomach rumbles loudly. The two of them realise that they’re both hungry, so they embark on a search of some nice restaurant. Eventually, they find one and treat themselves to a big breakfast. Jaskier drinks coffee but forbids Geralt from having one, to Geralt’s immense displeasure. He steals a sausage from Jaskier’s plate as revenge but Jaskier physically can’t be mad at him today. His grumpy expression makes Jaskier melt.

The drive back passes in silence. Jaskier sits behind the wheel; the coffee Geralt had at night is wearing off and he’s too tired. Geralt sits in the front passenger seat with his eyes closed the whole way back but he’s not sleeping. His thoughts often don’t let him sleep, Jaskier knows.

They return before noon. Walking into Geralt’s house feels different somehow, now that they’re truly engaged. As soon as the front door closes behind them, Jaskier drags Geralt in for a kiss. Way too soon, Geralt breaks it... because he needs to yawn.

Jaskier laughs and says, “C’mon, my jolly sailor bold, you need a nap.”

Geralt grunts but doesn’t argue. They go to Geralt’s bedroom upstairs and change into comfortable sweats and "for home" t-shirts, stealing some kisses in the meantime. Geralt closes the thick curtains and they lay down in the bed, facing each other. Jaskier shifts closer until he can tuck Geralt's head under his chin and run his hands through Geralt’s hair while Geralt rubs his palms up and down Jaskier’s back.

It’s one of their favourite ways to cuddle. They say nothing for some time, simply enjoying the closeness. Jaskier’s lost in his head, picturing how Geralt’s family is going to react to the development in their relationship, but then he suddenly remembers what he said to his own family yesterday.

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“What would you say about marrying next spring?”

Geralt opens his eyes and squints at him. “So soon?”

“I’ve always wanted to have a May wedding,” Jaskier answers. It’s not even a lie. After he and Geralt got together, he’s started fantasising about his own wedding for the first in his life and, in his mind, it always happens in May.

Geralt watches him closely, clearly sensing that there’s something he isn’t being told, and damn him for reading Jaskier so well. Jaskier tries not to squirm under the golden stare, as unforgiving as the sun, doing his best not to let his fear show. Jaskier will have to tell Geralt about the circumstances of their engagement one day, and when he does, Geralt may take it extremely the wrong way.

“I’ll think about it,” Geralt says finally.

It’s not a no but it’s not a yes either. Jaskier can’t have that, so he brings out the big guns and innocently suggests, “We could marry at sea, you know.”

A pause.

“Hmm.”

It’s definitely an intrigued hmm. Jaskier presses on, “I could rent us a yacht. Or a boat. Or a big ship, even. Whatever you want.”

There’s a moment when Geralt doesn’t even breathe. Then, he heaves a long, resigned sigh, and Jaskier smiles in victory.

“Damn you, Jaskier,” Geralt mutters tiredly, “Damn you.”

Jaskier chuckles and kisses Geralt on the forehead, earning himself a happy hum. He keeps running his fingers through Geralt's hair and begins to sing softly. It's the first song Jaskier wrote for Geralt; Jaskier knows that his fiancé has a particular fondness for it. As he croons lyrics about woods and the Fae, Geralt's breathing starts slowing. After he finally falls asleep, Jaskier lets himself doze off too.

***

“Dad!”

Jaskier jerks awake, opening his eyes just in time to see Geralt do the same. There’s a moment when they stare at each other in confusion. Then, Cirilla’s wails reach their ears, and Jaskier’s blood runs cold. In an instant, there’s pure, unadulterated terror written all over Geralt’s face. He gets up lighting fast and rushes out of the bedroom. Jaskier follows right after him.

“Dad!” she shrieks again.

“Ciri!” Geralt shouts, completely frantic, as they run down the stairs.

Cirilla meets them at the bottom of the stairs. Her face is red from crying, her cheeks wet. She falls into his arms and buries her face in her father’s chest, sobs tearing through her frame.

“Ciri,” Geralt breathes out, running his shaking hands all over the girl’s body in search of any injuries.

Ciri appears physically unharmed but still, something is definitely very, very wrong. The girl keeps bawling her eyes in Geralt’s embrace while her father strokes her head soothingly. Jaskier finds it to be a truly gut-wrenching thing to witness, and he isn’t even Ciri’s relative. He can scarcely imagine what Geralt is feeling, though a good portion of his fear and worry shows on his face. Jaskier, in an attempt to comfort Ciri and Geralt, puts his arms around them both.

“What happened?” Geralt asks, his voice hushed and gentle.

Cirilla cries harder and Geralt’s face scrunches up in pain he feels for her. Jaskier’s heart breaks for them both.

“Dara,” Ciri finally chokes out, “He wasn’t at school today and didn’t text me back and... He called me just before I walked in and told me... “ Her body starts shivering. “There was a fire at his house, dad, only he...” She trails off and wails. “His parents and brother didn’t...”

Jaskier gasps and Geralt curses.

“He has nowhere to go, dad,” Ciri adds, “no relatives in the country, he has nothing....”

Ciri weeps on while Jaskier looks at Geralt helplessly. He silently asks Geralt what to do and Geralt answers with a slight shake of his head. Jaskier purses his lips and racks his brain while Ciri slowly begins to calm down. Finally, he gets an idea.

“Sweetheart, did he tell you where he is now?”

“Yeah,” Ciri replies, her face still hidden in Geralt’s chest, “Why?”

“Well... My house has more than enough room for two.”

***

The day ends in a sleepless night. For Jaskier, not Geralt. Geralt, just like Ciri, collapsed from exhaustion around an hour ago in one of the bedrooms in Jaskier’s house. Jaskier, unfortunately, can’t say that about himself. Too much has happened for one day and he still hasn’t processed even half of it.

It’s almost midnight. Jaskier sits on the couch in his living room, strumming his acoustic guitar idly and trying not to think about the dead look Dara had in his eyes the whole day. When Jaskier pictures what kind of trauma the boy has just gone through, he wants to scream.

The sight of Dara himself snaps him back to reality. He acknowledges Jaskier with a nod and goes to the kitchen, which is open to the living room. Jaskier watches in the corner of his eye as Dara pours himself a glass of water and drinks. The air around is still, awfully so, and Jaskier itches to break the oppressive silence.

“You can’t sleep too?” he says.

“Yeah,” Dara answers quietly.

“You can sit here with me if you want.”

Dara hesitates for a moment but then comes over and sits down next to Jaskier awkwardly. He and Jaskier did meet before but they never talked much. Usually, Ciri would just say that the two of them are going somewhere before dragging Dara away. Jaskier’s aware that he’s a stranger to him and he certainly has no idea how to act around a person who’s currently experiencing the worst kind of nightmare that they can’t wake up from. Still, if there’s one thing he knows, it’s the fact that music can be a cure for many ailments.

“Any requests you’d like to make of this humble bard?” he asks, gesturing at himself theatrically.

“I like Metallica,” Dara replies with a shrug.

Jaskier smiles. “Ah, good taste!”

After a moment of thought, his fingers strum the strings and the first notes of The Unforgiven ring out in the air. Dara tenses but Jaskier decides to go on. When he sings, he pours all his emotions into it: how much his heart aches for the boy, how he wishes to ease his pain. His voice is mournful but strong and Dara listens to him carefully. During the second chorus, the boy’s eyes glaze over. Jaskier’s voice cracks. A tear rolls down Dara’s cheek, then another, and another. Jaskier plays on and Dara starts crying in earnest.

The same couch that Ciri and Geralt sat on when Jaskier met them for the first time, the same couch that Jaskier and Geralt sat on when they exchanged their rings before the birthday party, now Dara sits and weeps, his face hidden in his hands.

Jaskier almost breaks down in tears himself but he fights it – he has to finish. His voice is loud and clear as he sings the last verses, openly but unapologetically raw because that’s how the song should be sung. That’s how this moment should feel.

After the last notes of the song die down, only the sound of Dara’s sobs can be heard. Jaskier’s looks at the mourning boy, only sixteen and left with nothing, and wants to help.

“Do you need a hug?” he asks hoarsely.

Dara nods and Jaskier moves closer, putting his arms around the boy’s shoulders. Dara leans against him and cries, and cries.

As they sit there, Jaskier thinks to himself that he has lived a life of immense privilege. There were times when it was bad, like his serious health problems in childhood. There were moments when it was even worse, like when his dad’s drinking spiralled out of control when he was a teenager. The memories of that time still make him shudder. Yet, all ended well in the end. Jaskier’s a healthy man, his dad is sober. Jaskier's career pays very well. He doesn’t have greater problems than pursuing his dreams, and he realises there are scarcely any people with similar lives in the world.

People like him, Jaskier muses, should learn to put their own wants and needs aside more than anyone.

“Hey, Dara,” he says, feeling shy possibly for the first time in his life. He swallows down the nervousness constricting his throat and says, “I know this can be a weird question, you don’t even know me, but... Would you like to stay? You could live here, at least until everything, well, settles down. ”

Dara doesn’t reply for a long time. When he does, his answer is just, “Okay.”

The single word is said so quietly that Jaskier almost misses it. When he does catch it, and it feels so monumental that his breath is taken away.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #the Sailor and the Singer AU #tw: alcohol #tw: trauma

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skippyv20 · 4 years

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🍁🍁🍁🌳🌳🌳🍁🍁🍁SANDRINGHAM ANON AND PG🍁🍁🍁🌳🌳🌳🍁🍁🍁

Sandringham Anon

SANDRINGHAM ANON 🍁🍁🍁🌳🌳🌳🍁🍁🍁 … “ Her Majesty and the D&D of Cambridge with family are waiting in the Drawing room sir “ …” The big night then Sydney “ … “everything’s prepared sir” … “ Bloody bugger, karaoke tic-toc , at my age Sydney “ … “ it will be life enhancing sir” … “ bloody life threatening Sydney “ …” not at all , enjoyment awaits sir , Little George and Charlotte are in costume ‘ so cute sir’ … “ Ahhhh Sydney,refreshments is the one that one wants’ … “ indubitably sir”

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

Friday October 9/20

🍁🍁🍁🌳🌳🌳🍁🍁🍁THANK YOU SO MUCH DEAR SANDRINGHAM ANON🍁🍁🍁🌳🌳🌳🍁🍁🍁

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE 💜🙏🏻😊🙏🏻💜I TRULY APOLOGIZE I HAVE BEEN UNDER THE WEATHER. STILL RECUPERATING…

October 14/2020

Vignette # 12

FIRST, SIR, I WANT TO SAY I HAVE MUCH RESPECT FOR YOU WHEN YOU SUFFERED FROM CROMER’S REVENGE A FEW VIGNETTES AGO NOW.🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻

Well 😁 🎼 well 😁well, what an unexpected and surprise afternoon Himself and a bonus for Sydney was had. No one else will,know their secrets🤫🤫🤫🤭🤭🤭😁😁😁🎼🎼🎼though and the technicians will never tell, of 🤔🤭🤫🤗I am sure they got a good laugh 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂out of it too. Himself really enjoyed the refreshments 🥃 🍻 🍸 🍺 🥃 after the activities. But then again when does he not enjoy refreshments 🥃🥃🥃🥃any time?😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. Time was for a little rest 😴 💤 and awake up now. Himself got sorted, choosing shades of blue and blue wool sweater. Hopefully the Cambridges will notice, he too is following the ‘ blue’ dress code as of late. Heading down the stairways, knowing what awaits him! As he does, his two fingers on each hand continue to tap his tummy as he hums the melody, 🎼 “you’re the one that I want” la la la honey….but he is taking caution not to hum too loud lest anyone hear 👂 and give his delight away! Sydney, ever ready on the duty, is at the there, as Himself descends the staircase. Sydney states, says Her, The Queen 👑 And the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, with family aka trio of non-terror🤪🤪🤣🤣🤣🤣 are waiting in the drawing ✍️ room, Sir. Himself says to Sydney, well it’s the big night eh Sydney!??😁😁😁 . Replies, oh yes indeed Sir, everything is prepared Sir! If I may Sir, wait until you see Her Majesty, she is looking exceptional this evening. Himself smiles even brighter, oh my 🥬 cabbage, my little sausage always looks exceptional does she not !! Sydney I do think she is just the cats meow!!! Sydney states, yes Sir!! I see you chose the blue clothing I had prepared for you. Himself says, of course I did, we must continue the blue dress code! Sydney then says to Himself, well Sir, you’ll be pleased to know that her Majesty, is also in shades of blue this evening. You will both look smashing Sir. One must take some photos. Letting out a loud sigh/groan, Himself says Sydney do not go on about more photos! 🎥 📷 📸 I’m still not over that Tarquin chap🤬🤬🤬! Oh what a bloody awful day that was when he came round! They have approached the drawing ✍️ room, so Himself puts on his usual grumpy 😡 face to pretend like, he’s crotchety 😖and grumpy 😡 loudly so they can hear him bellowing like Big Ben 🔔, buggered karaoke, TickTock at my age Sydney. Secrets are kept because we know what Himself and Sydney spent the afternoon doing! Sydney says it will be a life enhancing Sir!☺️ Not enhancing, it is bloody life threatening Sydney. 😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣😡 I love that about him! Well Sydney here we go, Sir says, oh Sir enjoyment awaits !!☺️☺️😊😊😊😊🥰🥰🥰🥰They can hear 👂 him bellowing, they know he’s near and they see him walking in the room. Ganpan, ganpa, ganpa screeched out as the children all go running towards him, especially our Louis, Louis who runs and throws himself around his leg saying, Ganpa, do you like amimals???☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ my goodness to take everything that he’s got to maintain the grumpy old men look grumpy old man behaviour! There is no way that his heart does not melt being greeted with such love ❤️ and exuberance oh I can just feel it in my heart!💜💜💜 Sydney is still standing by and offering his constant running commentary, as he does oh Little George and Charlotte are in costume so cute Sir!😊😊😊😊Himself looks at him and says, Aaaaaaahhh Sydney refreshments🥃🍻🍸🍺🍸🍻🥃 “is one that one wants”🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂he’s doing a little take on the song they sang this afternoon, that the children are about to sing and that William and Catherine danced to at their wedding. Yes indubitably Sir, humming that you’re the one that I want as he Sydney smiles and leaves to get refreshments! Indubitably Sir……..to be continued

DONE WITH ABSOLUTE LOVE AND RESPECT FOR HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN AND HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE PHILIP THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH 💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦 🇬🇧 🇦🇺 🇳🇿

Entertainment Purposes

Thank you PG! You haven’t lost your sense of humour....no matter how you feel....😊💜💜💜💜💜😊😊😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

#Ask Skippy #submission

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araluenrangerdanger · 4 years

Text

Karate club AU

Modern AU

The club's called Ranger corps. Naturally

The Rangers have all black or brown belts, except for the apprentices. They must pass their exams first (each year they can complete two exams, most wait a year or two between their exams)

There are two instructors - Halt and Crowley. The club is their passion but they also maintain normal jobs and the club is just their side-hobby

Halt is the knowledgeable and grumpy type of instructor who is hard on the trainees but is secretly just a big softie who downloads funny videos to show them to whoever asks during summer camps. He also works in computer programming.

Crowley is the clown instructor, kind but can and will hurt you if you’re doing what you’re not supposed to do. He’s also a teacher in a kindergarten

Breaking wooden plates with their palms. Halt explains how to do it correctly, but Will still does it badly. He has a nasty bruise for the next two weeks.

Sometimes they have kendo lessons taught by Gilan who used to be in a kendo club but then transferred.

Before every holiday, Halt and Crowley do a less serious lesson. They get nunchakus, skipping ropes, candles and newspaper. With nunchakus, everybody smacks themselves at first, but eventually there are members who get really good at it. For the older members, it’s not difficult to put out a lit candle, but it’s hard as hell for the apprentices. Also, piercing newspaper with just your palm isn’t as easy as it sounds.

The club members regularly participate in competitions. The Temujai and Skandia clubs can never learn their lesson, it seems.

Every summer, there’s a two-week training camp. Crowley always orders T-shirts in a color that everyone votes for every year (they all have yellow, pink, white, blue, green T-shirts etc.) and everyone wears them proudly.

SUMMER CAMP

There are a lot of activities during the training camp. Physical activities, puzzles where you have to use your brain,...

Every night, the club members keep watch. They do this in pairs, but it mainly consists of them going around their designated area once in a while, otherwise they keep to a cabin that’s in the very center of the camp. Halt and Crowley always get snacks during the day, the last wave of snacks comes after dinner, and the members who keep watch can eat them

Usually, it’s one sandwich = one karate club member, but Gilan and Will are both able to wolf down 4 of these sandwiches each.

There is a “path of courage”. In the darkness of the night, the members have to go some 2 kilometers to a designated area (usually just a memorial deep in the forest) and along the way, other members jump out to scare them. They wear masks or disguises and many of the younger members actually return back to the camp where Halt is waiting and he will go to the memorial with them.

Gilan always goes with Will. He’s not scared of the “ghosts”. Gilan is the one who scares THEM. If the “ghost” screams at him, Gilan will scream harder. All the other members who are on the path are just like: “This is really a hunted forest.”

There is a whipped cream fight near the end of each camp. They all get whipped cream and fill some balloons with water. It’s absolute chaos. Halt never participates, he records it on a camera so he can put it on the club’s website, but Crowley enjoys it immensely.

They play a game of “smuggling”. The club members get on two teams. One team is the police, one is the smugglers. Halt gives five little cards that symbolize drugs to each of the smugglers and they have to hide them in their clothes, hair, wherever. They then set off to a forest where they hide.

The police are trying to find them. If they find someone, they are looking for the cards. The winning team is determined by the number of cards they manage to get back to Halt. The losing team has to run 3 kilometers in the morning. Another night, the roles reverse.

Will wouldn’t have been caught by Liam if Gilan didn’t hide in some drain. He saw a snake and screamed. That’s how Liam found them, but Will was still able to secure a victory for his team with the three cards Liam didn’t find.

When Halt and Crowley had had enough of members not listening to them and watching their mobile phones instead, they take the phones and let the members (mainly apprentices, the adults have a little more common sense) write a really long sentence about how they shouldn’t leave their magnificent, amazing, and wonderful phone unattended and definitely shouldn’t watch cat videos on it during practices, 50 times. They don’t get their phones back until after they’ve written it.

There’s also karate things. Competition in katas and kumite (training against an adversary). Will is really afraid to go against Harrison, one of the older members, but Alun, also one of the older members, tells him that he should push Harrison to the corners of the training field. Since Will is so young and small, Harrison will underestimate him. Will nods and tries. He still loses, but gets praising pats on his back for the next two days.

There’s a campfire one night where they roast sausages and tell stories

Will gets hurt jumping on a trampoline. Halt takes him to the hospital.

Doctor: this type of injury usually happens if there are two or more children jumping simultaneously on the trampoline. Well, Will, how many of you were there?

Will: Fifteen, probably.

Halt just grins under his hoodie. The doctor needs a few minutes to get over this revelation

During the last night of the camp, Halt and Crowley wake up all members in the middle of the night, they go practice some katas and then they jump into a swimming pool. In their kimonos. It’s fun

#totally not inspired by my karate club #or its summer camps #really. believe me #karate club au #yeaah those were the memories. i miss it #long post #mine #i'll add something if i remember of any funny moments #will treaty #gilan davidson #halt o’carrick #crowley meratyn #ranger corps #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #quarantine made me do it #the quarantine chronicles

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septic-skele · 3 years

Text

US - Heed The Signs (Part 6)

[Part 5]

“Are hatchling bones meant to look so yellow and frail? Take another pastry, dearie,” Miss Muffet advised, nudging the tray back at him. Blue sniffed, a little indignant, but he accepted another croissant nevertheless.

“I’m not frail at all! In fact, my bones are hardy and strong and rather magnificent,” he informed her as he tore off a piece, excess honey dripping from it in globs and strings. “I carried my brother most of the way here.”

“Oh ho, but you do not stop along the way for a doctor? The strength of little Papyrus-like bones is not important too?” Blue reeled back slightly as two of her five eyes gave him a sideways glance. What was she implying?

“Of course it is. That’s why I brought him here as fast as I could, so he could cool down!”

“Ahuhuhu, cold does not help a cold, silly thing! Why do you think little Papyrus was dancing out there? Snow and ice make the heat inside cook faster! Shiver and shake, quiver and quake, until the heat becomes too much and has to rattle right out of his bones! He didn’t get all of it, still some leftovers boiling.” Tutting, she resoaked the sponges to tuck against the younger skeleton’s ribs. “This is why I’m mopping him up! Let sit at room temperature so he can cool properly.”

“Wait, I—I don’t understand,” Blue whispered, despite the nausea slugging through him which indicated otherwise. “So his fit out there…Did I do that to him by bringing him here?”

“Ahh, accidents will happen.”

Her blasé tone only made the words worse. It hadn’t been an accident; he had brought him here purposefully, knowing already that he was ill. Light draining from his sockets, Blue dropped the croissant, pressing sticky gloves to his face. “Oh, stars…Oh, stars, I did this to him! I thought I was making him better, I thought—! How could I—?!”

Failure, idiot. You hurt him and then you abandoned him in the snow while he was lost and in pain. How could you? You’re dreadful! You made everything worse for him! You don’t deserve—

“Sans? Look and listen here, you.” A third hand on his face made him jump, biting back a mortified whimper as Miss Muffet brought his chin up. Her expression wasn’t entirely sympathetic but it didn’t hold quite as much judgment either. “Did you hear what I said? Accidents will happen. Hatchlings don’t know, so they don’t think until they are taught…and you don’t have any teachers, do you?”

Blue gulped against a lump in his throat.

“Where are your parents, child? In the nest you lost?”

Parents, plural. Memories of Dad were fleeting enough. Memories of a mother? When he looked back, he could grasp nothing about her at all.

“I suppose so,” he managed at last, not daring to blink lest any tears fall. He focused on his reflection in Miss Muffet’s dark eyes, admitting the truth to it. “We lost him—or them—when we lost the house. We should have known how to get back. It’s my fault, I can’t remember.”

“If you can’t remember, how do you remember it’s your fault?”

“It—It was my job to remember!” How could he know that either? It was just a feeling. He was the big kid so obviously he was to be trusted with the responsibility of recalling…whatever he was meant to recall. It was supposed to make sense.

“Huh! Well, if that’s so, it was your parents’ job to teach you better how to remember! Shame on them for misplacing you before doing so.” Huffing, she turned her attention to the fallen croissant. “Accidents, waste. My mother never let anything go to waste. Not food, not time. She carries me on her back until I’m grown and ready, and your mother goes unbothered? She makes you carry your own brother here from a home you don’t know? What shame. It’s no wonder bone hatchlings are only a myth.”

“A myth? Like a legend?”

“You and your brother are only you. Have you ever made friends with another? Have you ever seen another bone child your age?”

“No, I don’t think so. Are there many spiders like you?”

“Ahuhuhu! Two or two thousand live in the Ruins and Hotland! Cousins, brothers, sisters. Sad, my business is bad there. Grillby and his firecrackers are burning down the industry, but Snowdin puts their flames out. I am the only one strong enough to survive this cold, so my family sent me here to find better customers.”

“But…how is that any better than our parents? They lost us. After all that time raising you, your parents sent you away? I’m sorry, that sounds very lonely.”

Muffet opened her mouth. She closed it. She opened it again. “It’s my job to be here, like it’s your job to remember, you say. And we have telegrams.”

“It still sounds difficult, and sad, and not what I’d ever want. I may not see any other skeletons but Papyrus is all I need. Just one brother to keep me company is better in my mind than having none. If he ever sent me away…Gosh, now I know why he hates the thought of being left behind. I bet your brothers miss you.”

At that Miss Muffet looked more than a little shaken, though she glanced away so he wouldn’t examine it too closely. Blue didn’t inquire any further. The idea of being without Papyrus for any reason, now or as a grownup, was enough to make his shoulders hunch and his soul shudder. How close had this illness brought them to that reality already?

“That fit he had…Is that normal? Could that ever happen again?”

Gladly she latched onto the subject change. “If you want it to, if you do not?”

“N-No, I don’t! I never want to see that happen again!”

“The little bones dance when they need to dance; there is nothing you can do to stop it once it starts. Using foresight—” Four of her eyes blinked demonstratively. “—you try to see that he is not this sick again!”

“How did you know what to do when you saw him? Or not do?”

“Some spiders are not raised as strong as I. Some mothers did not prepare them for the world.” Her bucket sloshed wildly as she set it on the floor with a sharp clank. Blue flinched as she spun toward him, agitatedly tossing her head. “This world isn’t kind to my kind. Many of my brothers, sisters, cousins look for treats and find sweet poison left for them. They squirm and shake like this little bone and only some live to finish the dance.”

Blue’s eye sockets were as huge as saucers. “They…?”

She didn’t give him time to finish the thought, her next words brusque. “That comes to mind, what has the little bone down like this? This heat is brought on by something. Has he been looking for treats? Nibbled something unsavory?”

“We last ate some water sausages on our way here but he came down with it before; he didn’t even want to eat until I fed him by hand,” he murmured. “I tried to offer him part of that quiche I found under the bench we slept on but he wasn’t hungry for that either. We left it. Before that…Oh! We were foraging. We found a Nice Cream to share. That truly was a treat!”

“And you are not sick from that but your Papyrus is?” She peered closer, giving his forehead a tentative pet for a temperature. “That makes less than sense.”

“You’re right. If it was that, I should be sick too. Maybe I was meant to catch it but it couldn’t catch me, so it caught Papy instead. He’s always been a bit fragile, sensitive.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “He even choked on that soft Nice Cream. Lucky he’d found a bottle of sea tea to wash it down!”

“Tsk. Sea tea doesn’t come in bottles, dearie, it comes in boxes.”

“Really? You’re sure? That can’t be right. If that wasn’t sea tea, then what did he—?” He stiffened, eye sockets growing impossibly wider. “What did he drink? It was in that bottle. The bottle had cracks. It had spilled, it was all over that crab apple he tried before I found the Nice Cream! What was that?!”

“Well, describe its looks for me! Labels, liquids?”

“The label was torn! The liquid looked…green, I think.”

“Sea tea is blue, Sans, blue like the sea.”

“I-It doesn’t come in different flavors?!”

“Ai, Arachne!” Pressing a hand to her face, Miss Muffet shook Blue’s shoulder with another. “Has the little bone brought it up again?”

“No, we left after we ate! We didn’t talk about it. I didn’t think about it again, he seemed fine at first but—”

“Silly, silly, listen! Has he brought it up again? Spitting, spewing?”

“Oh, h-he was sick to his stomach twice! It was worse the second time.” Scrambling off the stool, he grabbed at her arm. “Is that really bad? Is it going to make him worse? What did he drink?!”

“Your Papyrus left the bottle behind? Where is there?”

“On the far end of Waterfall, b-by the second east river! An old monster lives there and we sorted through his trash. It wasn’t the first time; we try not to scavenge in the same place too often, overstay our welcome, and he yelled after us the first time but he had so much of it! Sharing is caring and if he threw it out, I didn’t think he would miss it too terribly! Miss Muffet—”

“I’ll string a telegram through the web to my cousins in Waterfall,” she announced, bustling back toward the door. “Stay with the little bone, mop him up—and don’t look so blue. If I know much of what I know, he should be up, groggy and grumpy soon, and the last thing he needs is to see your face frightened.”

#undertale #underswap #fanfiction #sans #sans undertale #swap sans #papyrus #papyrus undertale #swap papyrus #muffet #sickfic #whump #babybones #angst #feels #caretaking #hurt comfort

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

tapes

tapes masterlist

tape 21/23

word count: 711

TAPE TWENTY-ONE

For once, the camera is not in mama Parker’s hands. The camera person is tall, and the hold is sturdy. It’s Joshua, the coven leader! He’s filming his family having a nice time in the yard. There’s his wife, Martha, a short woman with short brown hair, who wipes little blonde boy’s face with a napkin. The boy is wearing a blue and white Christmas sweater.

“Luke”, Joshua says.

The boy looks up and his face is lit with delight. We can hear his father smile behind the camera. He’s a healthy twin, and this summer he started doing magic, just like his sister, Olivia. There she is, by the swings, trying to fight Joey for a Christmas wreath. Josette is walking to them to pull them apart.

“Guys!” she calls for them. Martha is talking to somebody behind Joshua’s shoulder, and a familiar voice replies to her.

“No, haven’t seen it. Yeah, but it’s fine, Jo said we have more in the basement. I can come and get some, if you want”.

After all, Malachai knows the basement like it’s his second home, doesn’t he? ;)

The camera travels around the yard. The old oak is still in its place, and there’s a new dog. This is not Clementine, she died many years ago of old age. This is her son, Felix. He’s a white dog.

Samantha is carrying a big hip of Christmas decorations from the car into the house, and she passes the camera not forgetting to flash a wide smile. Tyler is lying on the grass and lets Felix lick his face because he’s a freaking weirdo. Ashley is shrieking somewhere and running through the porch. You can hear Kai tell her,

“Whoa, slow down, Flash. You’re gonna crash you nose on something”.

Joshua turns and films them, his oldest son and one of his youngest daughters. The tall boy wearing a red Christmas sweater grabs Ashley by the waist and lifts her. Ashley screams and laughs like mad.

“Spaceship launched!” Malachai announces and swoons her around in his arms, her legs dangling like sausages. Martha laughs from behind Joshua’s back.

“Put her down, she’s going to puke”, he says calmly. Kai doesn’t hear him.

Ashley shrieks like crazy and waves her hands, and her brother makes the spaceship noises.

“Put her down, Malachai”, Joshua says louder. Kai doesn’t look at him, but puts Ashley back to her feet and holds her by the shoulders as she sways, having lost all balance. Ashley is the littlest in their family; she’s eight, but she looks not more than five. She wraps her arms around her brother’s waist and moans with delight.

“Come on, guys, let’s snap a picture. Mary’s going to come soon”, Martha calls.

“Oh my god, Aunt Mary’s coming?” it’s Josette’s voice.

“Kai, grab a wreath”.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Of course she’s coming”, Martha says quietly, “she’s not going to stay alone in the house for Christmas”.

Kai walks past the camera as if not seeing it and joins his mother, Lukas, Olivia and Josette.

“Get together, guys”, mama orders, and the four of them step closer to each other. Jo sits down and embraces Liv.

“Say thanks she didn’t move in with us”, says a grumpy voice. By the uneven hint of constant annoyance you can tell it’s Sam, and she’s back from the house.

At the last moment Kai pushes his wreath into Luke’s hands, and the boy (how incredibly blonde he is. Why?) strikes a pretty pose. Mama Parker takes a step back and levels with her husband, disappearing from the shot.

“Kai, a smile, please”.

He grimaces, but you can see in his eyes, he’s having a good time.

“Kai, smile!” Olivia repeats and beams towards him. Jo shoots him a look, and he stretches his face in a wide smile.

“Now, us! Malachai, take a picture?”

Joshua walks up, and there’s fuss. Tyler is pulled from the ground and he groans, his glasses slipping from his face. Felix jumps around, feeling their agitation. Ashley is pushed around as they try to fit all together. The last shot before the camera goes blank is Kai, standing his back to the porch, with a photo camera, waiting for them.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #legacies #vampire diaries #gemini coven

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quercussp · 4 years

Text

The Fantastic Mr. Whiskers

Rating: T

Word count: 3.1k

Summary:

Mr. Whiskers does not approve of guests. But this human? This human was ok. This human could stay.

Authors note:

Happy holidays @babethepig! I hope you like this fic, even though I interpreted the prompt a bit loosely.

Written for the prompt: Phil can talk to animals but he keeps his power hidden. Dan and Phil start dating. Dan has a cat (because in this universe Dan has the right opinion and Phil is not allergic) the cat is really grumpy and usually hates everyone but it loves Phil. Dan is confused especially after he keeps catching Phil and the cat in -what looks like- deep conversations. The cat doesn't like certain things and Phil seems to know just why it is grumpy all the time, Dan gets suspicious and Phil ends up telling him about his power.

A huge thank you to my betas @alittledizzy and @templeofshame and the WWC crew for the support and encouragement. I couldn't have done this without you <3

Warnings: very minor homophobia (blink and you will miss it)

[read on ao3]

Mr. Whiskers was fond of his human. Most of the time. Ok, about half of the time. He assumed that the human meant well, but why did he keep buying this disgusting fish flavored dry food when Mr. Whiskers obviously hated fish? How many times did he have to turn over the bowl or sulk in the corner under the table for his human to figure that out? Weren’t humans supposed to be the most intelligent animals in the world? (Mr. Whiskers internally snorted at that. Yeah right, they think that, but then they also shout at pictures moving in the big box in the living room. Even the most stupid alley cat knew that they can’t hear you if they’re inside the box.)

His human also insisted on inviting the most horrible people into his flat. One of them was apparently his brother, and they always cooked some kind of ridiculous meal with no meat whatsoever, only carrots and stupid broccoli. Not even a little dash of milk! Absolutely no edible scraps Mr. Whiskers could steal from the table and enjoy in peace. The other person who came over to their home was a woman with a loud voice and different colored hair, and the tendency to constantly want to squish Mr. Whiskers with no consideration of his dignity or desire to be squished. He wasn’t some kind of lap dog to be “cuddled” and cooed at! Didn’t that woman have a mother who would teach her to KEEP HER STUPID FURLESS HANDS TO HERSELF? Honestly, some humans needed a little scratch once in a while to know their place, and he didn’t care that his human would yell “Mr. Whiskers, behave yourself!” every time he did it. He’ll behave himself when the guests behave themselves.

And the third semi regular visitor his human had was his mother, who called his human “Daniel” and would sit on the sofa drinking tea in silence. Sometimes she would ask a question like “So, have you decided about going back to university?” or “Are you still working at that convenience store? I think you should be looking for something more serious,” or “Have you been seeing anyone? My friend’s daughter is about your age, I think you should give her a call.” And even though she never did anything annoying to Mr. Whiskers and even sometimes brought him a nice treat, he absolutely hated having her over, because his human would get sad and quiet afterwards, and sometimes lie in bed for an entire day. And no amount of rubbing against his hands or purring on his chest would make him smile.

But most of the time, it was just the two of them. His human would usually have to be woken up by Mr. Whiskers’ insistent meowing. Honestly, if it weren’t for him, the human would probably never get to work on time. And Mr. Whiskers would never get fed. After giving Mr. Whiskers some food (ok, why the constant fish? Urgh, it’s disgusting), the human would pour some milk over his dry food (without fish, one would note. Why does the human get fish-free dry food while Mr. Whiskers has to suffer?) and sit at the table slowly chewing on it. If the human would get too slow or close his eyes for too long, Mr. Whiskers would make sure to drop something off of the counter to wake him up. Then, the human would go into the bathroom and shower (yet further proof that humans are not that intelligent. Why would anyone voluntarily pour water over themselves? Idiotic.) and get dressed. There would then be the regular argument where Dan would shout “Why did you have to sleep on my work pants again? You got fur all over them! Just use the fucking bed I bought you!” and Mr. Whiskers would hiss and jump straight into the pile of clothing on the floor of the bedroom and start kneading at them. Show his human who’s boss. Then the human would leave and Mr. Whiskers could get some good sleep in the human’s comfortable bed. (Dan wonders why Mr. Whiskers doesn’t sleep in the bed he bought him? Well, why did he buy him a bed that’s like 20 times smaller than his own? Does this human seriously thinks that he needs more space than Mr. Whiskers? Ridiculous.)

The evenings were mostly spent with the human sitting in front of the big box with some kind of toy and screaming loudly at the moving objects while Mr. Whiskers lay curled up on the couch and eyed his human with pity. They are never going to hear you, you fool. Just give up already. And after dinner (fish dry food, again; someone needs to smack some sense into this human) they would go to bed, Dan under the covers and Mr. Whiskers usually on the large chair where the human put his black work pants that night. (What? The chair is comfortable!)

So when one evening, someone Mr. Whiskers never seen before walked in with his human, Mr. Whiskers was immediately suspicious. The new guest was as tall as Dan, but had black hair and bright blue eyes. He was smiling and out of breath, and was looking around the apartment in wonder.

“So, this is my place,” Dan said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically shaky. “And this is Mr. Whiskers. Don’t mind him, he’s very grumpy, so don’t be offended if he hates you.”

Mr. Whiskers hissed in indignation. He wasn’t grumpy! He was an absolute delight if you knew how to behave yourself. He even let his human pet him a couple times the day before, and only hissed at him twice this morning! And Dan dares to call him grumpy?

“Hello Mr. Whiskers!” replied the stranger. “I’m Phil! It’s very nice to meet you.”

There was something really weird about this new human’s voice. Mr. Whiskers couldn’t exactly place what it was, but something was very different.

“Phil, you’re so funny! You honestly think he understands you?” Dan laughed and Mr. Whiskers meowed, offended. Did his human think he’s stupid?

“Of course he does, Dan, and I don’t think he likes you saying that.”

Ok, Phil seemed to be acceptable so far. He seemed respectful. Mr. Whiskers could give him a chance. For now.

“Oh Phil, you’re so precious!” Dan replied, and looked at the new guy with a smile on his face that made Mr. Whiskers want to roll his eyes. He looked at him like a little kitten looks at his first bouncy ball, or like his mother used to look at him when she would lick his face. Disgusting.

They ended up sitting on the couch and shouting at the lit up box together, and Mr. Whiskers felt his good opinion of the new ‘Phil’ human decline a bit. He might be smart enough to know that Mr. Whiskers understands them, but still obviously not the brightest kitten in the litter. He was also a little odd in other ways, biting Dan on the shoulder sometimes and giggling all the time. Perhaps he was hungry? Mr. Whiskers would also sometimes bite his human for food, but Dan seemed to react very differently to Phil biting him. When Mr. Whiskers would bite, his human would screech and call him a “dirty animal.” When Phil bit him, however, Dan would flush red and giggle. He looked like a tomato, it was frankly ridiculous.

It was long dark outside by the time Phil stood up from the couch and headed out. He hugged Dan and whispered something in his ear, and then looked Mr. Whiskers directly in the eyes and said “Goodbye Mr. Whiskers! See you soon!”

Something was definitely off about this person.

***

After that night, Phil became a constant presence in the flat. He would come over almost every night and stay later and later. Occasionally, he would stay overnight in the human’s bed and eat breakfast with them. He also seemed to progress from biting Dan to doing all sorts of other stupid things, like licking and sucking on his mouth, laying on his shoulder or on his chest and nuzzling into his neck. And his human seemed to not only allow it, but do the same to Phil. At one point, his human actually pushed Mr. Whiskers out of the bedroom and closed the door. And didn’t let him in the entire night, which was so unthinkably rude that Mr. Whiskers had no choice but to pee in Dan’s palm tree. The next morning they both emerged looking like they didn’t sleep at all, which of course they didn’t. Who would be able to sleep without Mr. Whiskers watching over them? And why did Phil have dark spots all over his neck?

However, even with all of this, having Phil around all the time definitely had some benefits. First of all, Phil apparently loved pizza, which meant that if Mr. Whiskers whined hard enough, he would always get a little pepperoni or sausage out of their plates. Additionally, Phil’s presence drove away Dan’s need to invite other people and Phil himself was always very respectful of the “don’t touch the cat if he doesn’t want it” rule. And of course, Mr. Whiskers was somewhat satisfied to see his human so happy. Some might even say that Mr. Whiskers was happy for him, but those people would be wrong, of course; Mr. Whiskers was far too important of a creature to really care about the wellbeing of his human (even though he did know that if Phil dared to hurt Dan, he would scratch his eyes out and not even think about it).

But the most significant changes came from the fact that Phil seemed to somehow just know things. Or, at least, guess some of the things Mr. Whiskers wanted. For example, one time when they were having breakfast and Dan was pouring the horrid fish dry food into Mr. Whisker’s bowl, Mr. Whiskers let out a frustrated meow. While Dan refused to get the hint for several years, Phil immediately seemed to understand Mr. Whisker’s frustration and told Dan that “I don’t think your cat really likes this type of food, maybe we should get him something different?” And indeed, a couple days later Phil brought over several different bags of cat food and had Dan perform a complicated taste test to determine which one was Mr. Whisker’s favorite. And somehow, Phil was able to exactly tell Dan which one Mr. Whisker’s liked most (the duck flavored one, of course, although the beef and rabbit one were also not bad).

Phil also would always say a proper hello and goodbye to Mr. Whiskers and always asked him if he could pet him. But the weirdest thing was that when Mr. Whiskers wasn’t in the mood for sentimental cuddles, Phil would just chuckle and say, “Ok, ok, maybe next time.” And whenever Mr. Whiskers allowed Phil to pet him, the human managed to scratch the perfectly right spot. Mr. Whiskers has never met a human who understood him as well as Phil.

***

One morning, Mr. Whiskers could tell something was wrong as soon as he woke up. The day before was one of the rare nights Phil wasn’t here, and Dan had spent the previous evening outside the house, only to come home at two am, pale, shivering and with puffed red eyes. He immediately went to bed without even saying hi to Mr. Whiskers or giving him the normal scratch behind the ears. The next morning, no matter how much Mr. Whiskers meowed or scratched at him, no matter how many cups he threw off of the counter, his human refused to get out of bed. He was lying under his blankets, covering his entire head, and Mr. Whiskers could hear a quiet sobbing from under it.

That morning Dan never got up for work. He just lay in bed, standing up only once to go to the bathroom and carelessly throwing some food in the general direction of Mr. Whisker’s bowl. The sun set and his human never stood up to turn on any lights. He just lay in bed motionless, sometimes letting out a quiet sob.

It was fully dark when Mr. Whisker’s heard the door open.

“Dan? Baby? Are you home?” Phil’s voice rang out in the darkness. Mr. Whiskers immediately raced to the door and started meowing at Phil. If anyone could cheer his human up, it would be Phil. Something was definitely wrong.

Phil entered the living room and turned on the light. Then he looked Mr. Whiskers right in the eyes and said, “You’re saying he didn’t get out of bed at all?”

Mr. Whiskers stared in shock at Phil.

“Listen, Mr. Whiskers, I can speak to animals, it’s no big deal. I just didn’t want Dan to know in case he thought I was weird or something. But we can discuss this in detail later; can you please tell me what happened to Dan?”

If Mr. Whiskers were a less dignified cat, he probably would have freaked out. But Mr. Whiskers doesn’t freak out. He’s always collected and poised, and honestly it’s not like he was that surprised, truly. (He definitely was.)

Quickly collecting himself from not being shocked at all, Mr. Whiskers proceeded to tell Phil exactly what was going on. Phil just looked intently at him and nodded along.

“Did he have anything to eat? He was crying yesterday? He was supposed to stay at his parents, but you’re saying he came back in the middle of the night? Ok, ok. Wait, slow down. Oh, he sometimes cries when his mom visits? Ok, I’ll see what I can do. Thank you, thank you!”

With that, Phil poured some water into a glass and quietly opened the door into the bedroom.

“Let me see how Dan is doing and I’ll feed you, Mr. Whiskers,” Phil whispered. Ok, that was fair. As long as it didn’t take forever, because dinner was supposed to be served at least two hours ago.

After a couple minutes of waiting, Mr. Whiskers slid into the dark bedroom and saw that Phil was lying in bed next to Dan, combing his fingers through his curly hair and murmuring into his ear.

“I’m so sorry, love. It’s his loss, you’re perfect. I’m so so sorry.”

“I wanted them to get to know you…” Dan sobbed. “I thought they would be happy for me.”

“They’ll come around, Danny, and if not, it’s their loss. It’s going to be ok, I’m here.”

Mr. Whiskers wanted to remind Phil of his promise to feed him dinner, but decided that he might not actually be that hungry. Instead, Mr. Whiskers climbed onto the bed and firmly planted himself between the two humans, kneading at the softness of Dan’s stomach and purring loudly. Dinner could wait until his human was a little happier. Maybe Mr. Whiskers would even curl up in Dan’s lap later, and let him pet him for an hour or two. Mr. Whisker’s was generous like that.

***

The next morning Phil woke up earlier than Dan and slipped out of bed into the kitchen.

“Let him sleep” he whispered to Mr. Whiskers who was about to start the normal process of waking Dan up. “I told our manager he won’t come into work today; he had a rough night.”

Mr. Whiskers followed Phil out into the kitchen and jumped up on the breakfast bar.

“So…” Phil said.

Mr. Whiskers stared at him.

“You hungry?”

Of course he was.

“Why is all of this crap on the floor? You tried to wake him up that way? Honestly, Mr. Whiskers, are you expecting me to clean this up? Of course you are.”

Phil quickly swept up the broken china and put the rest of the junk off the floor back onto the counter.

“Here, let me get you some food. Do you want the duck or the rabbit? Duck? Ok!”

He poured some food into the bowl and put it on the table.

“Come have breakfast with me, Mr. Whiskers. I think Dan might be sleeping in for a bit.”

Phil made himself a cup of coffee and got a biscuit from the cupboard. They sat at the table in silence, both munching on their food for a bit.

“So… Alligators are pretty cool, aren’t they?”

Mr. Whiskers just stared at him.

“What? They are! I went to the zoo with my family once and the alligator told me that my thighs are my best feature! Although I don’t know if he was saying that from an aesthetic or food related point of view. Either way, that was really nice of him.”

Mr. Whiskers glanced down at Phil’s thighs.

“Well, the alligator liked them, so you can keep your snarky comments to yourself,” Phil laughed. “Dan appears to like them, so shush.”

Mr. Whiskers laid down on the table and flicked his tail.

“Hey, don’t insult my boyfriends taste. He chose you as a pet, didn’t he?” Phil smirked. “Well of course he didn’t choose you, it was the other way around, what am I even saying. And you did a good job, you have a nice human there, don’t you.”

Just as Phil was saying that, the door to the bedroom creaked open and a sleepy-looking Dan emerged.

“Who are you talking to, Phil?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Mr. Whiskers and Phil shared a glance and the cat jumped off the table and walked towards Dan. He rubbed his side on Dan’s legs and purred.

“Why are you suddenly so nice? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, babe, we were just having breakfast. Do you want something?” Phil replied in an exaggeratedly innocent voice.

Honestly, Phil was the worst liar Mr. Whiskers has ever seen. Dan looked at Phil with even more suspicion.

To break the tension, Mr. Whiskers had to plunge his claws into Dan’s naked shin.

“Owww, you animal, what the fuck!?” Dan shouted, and Mr. Whiskers proudly walked away, successfully defusing the situation. Watch and learn, Phil. Watch and learn.

“Will you still move in with me if this monster of a cat lives here?” Dan asked Phil, rubbing his scratched up ankle. He plopped himself into a chair at the table and took a sip of Phil’s coffee.

“Do you seriously think I would dare move in without getting Mr. Whiskers’ approval?” Phil replied. “It’s not like it’s up to you or me if I get to live here.”

Mr. Whiskers jumped into Dan’s lap and curled up into a ball. Dan automatically started combing his hands through his soft fur.

“Do you approve, Mr. Whiskers?” Dan asked him. “I think he approves,” he smiled widely at Phil.

“Oh, he does, as long as we keep buying him the duck-flavored cat food,” Phil replied.

Mr. Whiskers started purring loudly in Dan’s lap. Phil was ok. Phil could stay, he decided.

#phanfiction #my fic #phan #phandom fic fests holiday exchange

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dbhdrabble · 5 years

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simarkus domestic

"Hey Markus?" Simon called from the kitchen, where he was peeling potatoes. His boyfriend, who was flipping through channels on the couch in the next room, called back a slightly bored "yeah?" making no effort to move. Simon stayed silent, refusing to let his love stay splayed out lazily on the couch forever, a small smile creeping onto his summer-freckled face as Markus groaned loudly, throwing the remote on the coffee table.

Putting the peeled potatoes into a pre-heated pan on the stove, Simon quickly scooped the peeled skin into his hand, chucking it in the compost just outside the screen door, to tidy up his workspace. He took a quick drink of water from his glass, before half filling the pan of potatoes with water, and setting it back on the old-fashioned gas stove to boil. His boyfriend still hadn't made his way into the small kitchenette, so, placing his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants, that rested just on his hips, Simon raised an eyebrow at his boyfriends back. "Markus?" He asked again, slightly firmer, though the stern aura quickly dissolved as a chuckle parted his lips, betraying his chivvying as a joke.

With another grin, Markus scrambled up off the couch, his dark hoodie twisted up around his torso, which meant that when he stretched, it rose up, exposing a strip of caramel skin, before he yanked it down again. Once his clothing was all straightened out again, he powered off the TV and turned to the kitchen door, where Simon was waiting, making a big deal out of stretching and limbering up as if he was about to do extensive exercise. The sweater did nothing to disguise the body underneath, but Simon was almost immune to it by now, after a year and a bit. Markus, finally, having lazily procrastinated for ages, started padding quietly through to his boyfriend, a sheepish smile on his face. "Yes, Si?" He asked sweetly, hopping up onto the breakfast bar and swinging his legs, as he hummed along to the random pop song on the radio. Without a word, Simon leant forward from the counter he had been stood against, pressing a soft, sweet kiss on his love's lips, smiling into it, before pulling away and turning to the food.

"That was it." He said simply, as a bright blush crept up his neck, pooling in his fair cheeks, colouring in the spaces between his freckles, and accentuating the glittering blue of his eyes, which, at that point, were focused somewhere a few inches left of the pan of veggie sausages he was pretending to be interested in. Markus, hopping off the counter again, took the few steps across to the room to his boyfriend, and placed a sweet kiss onto the little space below his ear, mostly because that was the one place he could guarantee drove Simon crazy. And it did, as the blonde leaned unconsciously into his love’s mouth. "Turn around and kiss me again, coward." Markus joked, pulling petulantly on the dark grey hem of his lover's shirt. Simon craftily ignored him, resulting in a rather enthusiastic peppering of kisses across the back of his neck, and both of his shoulders, where his wings would be if he was an angel (as Markus never failed to tell him).

"Hmph. Fine. Ignore me then." Came a grumpy voice from behind him, before retreating footsteps could be heard. Laughing, Simon turned around, knowing full well that Markus would still be exactly where he was three seconds ago, glowering false-angrily at him. And, like always, he was, though a few seconds later, he was once again sat on the breakfast bar. "I'm trying to cook, honey. One more kiss, and then I really need to carry on, if you want to eat tonight." He bargained, pressing one more kiss onto the small corner of Markus's mouth, his hands gently roaming around the edges of his boyfriend's face, before they latched in the swathes of sweater material at the back of his head, pulling him closer with a little hungry noise. Markus, in kind, looped his fingers into Simon's loose fawn waves to anchor him into place as they both kissed. It went on for a few peaceful, romantically charged minutes, before Simon started laughing into his love’s mouth, remembering what he was meant to be doing. "That’s a very loose definition of one, Markus." He chuckled, pulling away as the potatoes started to boil over.

"Well, you just look so good, how could I not?" Markus asked, mischievously as he turned up the volume on the radio, that was sat innocently next to him. He started humming along to the instruments, practically inviting company to sing the lyrics with him. Simon, stirring the potatoes, grinned, before starting to sing quietly, his voice peaking along with the woman's voice, and dropping off softly as she sang quietly of her latest heartbreak. The two duetted a little longer, as the sausage sizzled, and the potatoes carried on boiling, Markus even chiming in a little on the chorus in his quiet, unsure voice, right up until the last, fading note, at which point, they both fell about laughing at each other's 'serious singing faces'. The singing together was as natural as breathing, and neither really had to make any effort to take part, it just happening automatically. As the boring ads started playing, Markus reached over and turned the volume back down, before sliding off the smooth counter and heading over to the big window over the sink.

He gazed out over their small, but cozy garden, as the setting sun sent pastel shades of pinks and blues across the sky, tinting it like candyfloss, the gentle breeze sending lightly perfumed wafts through the open window into the kitchen, petals from the wild rose bush growing up around the back door rustling like velvet. A small bird perched on one of the small, untrimmed bushes and started tweeting a song, that sounded joyously free, the high notes floating around the small man, who was stood, arms wrapped around his torso like he was hugging himself, beckoning him out, to the wild. It was the perfect scene to be captured on canvas, or painted straight onto a wall in the guest room, picturesque and wild at the same time as domestically quiet.

But, before he could be lured a single step, a strong set of arms wrapped around his midsection, pulling him back against a solid, dependable chest, rising and falling as the owner breathed. A comforting, familiar scent of dark chocolate and warm, dusty books slowly weaved its way around Markus, tantalising and homely, overwhelming the call of the wild, and drowning out the bird's call, that now sounded like no more than tweeting. The starting notes of another song started up on the radio, weak and quiet beneath the sound of the cooking food, but still Markus's ears caught it, prompting him to grin, and break Simon's embrace, hurrying over to the radio to turn the volume up again.

"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken So I hung my head and I cried" Markus sang along, pouting jokily at the final line, before holding out an expectant hand to Simon who was stood, a happy half smile on his face. With a fond but exasperated sigh, he took Markus's outstretched hand, pulling him close in a hug, before letting him out again. As the chorus struck up, both pairs of hands found their ways to each other's shoulders, Simon's half smile breaking out into a big, unrestrained, toothy one as Markus sang along happily.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine You make me happy when skies are gray You'll never know dear, how much I love you Please don't take my sunshine away" They continued, knowing the words off by heart, and singing along as if it was their own special song, that was written just for them. Softly swaying from side to side, they sang to each other, staring into each other's eyes, as if they could convey every tiny drop of their mutual, undying love with constant eye contact, benevolent, brimming blue to the warmest, most caring blue/green mismatched pair.

The song continued on in the background, but they had both stopped paying attention, intoxicated by each other's presence. "God, I love you so much." Markus whispered, leaning in to press a peck onto Simon's lips, before gently tilting his head, resting his forehead on his boyfriend's, as they carried on swaying, lost in each other as the potatoes boiled over again, and the sausages stopped sizzling in the final farewell rays of sunlight.

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marigoldhasmoved-blog · 7 years

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Marigold Reacts | 4

hello and welcome to Marigold Reacts. ficlets based on those little snapshot-moments that pop to mind when i read fanfiction. largely inspired by @darkhawkflying’s work on AO3.

this time around however, i figure this is more of a dedication than directly inspired by anything i’ve seen written x) i don’t recall her putting together anything quite this dramatic. but, what can i say, my imagination has the tendency to run away with me even during the simplest scenes!

all you need to be aware of is that i treat the series’/stories as though they’re films/tv programs. i am the “cast’s” landlady and we all live under the same roof.

enjoy!

NUT BUTTER

It hadn’t been instantaneous. No worlds collided, no rugs were pulled and it wasn’t some sweet pop-song, ‘the minute I met you’ bullshit that sells love to a demographic who haven’t experienced it yet. If you ask Ross, he would tell you that for the first five minutes after their being introduced, Jim wanted to, “punch him in his pretty face.”

Ross maybe shouldn’t have counted Jim’s reference to his face as ‘pretty’ as a win considering not five minutes after that, Ross had been escorted to a set-medic with a bloody lip and a bruised ego.

Actions fueled by tabloid gossip that - alright, sure, Jim knew well enough to ignore on a regular day. And, yes, Jim can admit that he’d walked onto set with a few preconceived notions but Ross hadn’t helped himself at. all. by acting like an arrogant Vegas Strip prima donna. A prick.

By acting like a prick.

What had worked in their favor was all the tension they’d let simmer between them. Tension that eventually exploded when they’d bumped shoulders in the hotel lobby. And then the elevator. The corridor. The alcove with the ice machine, the emergency exit stairwell and, finally, all over Ross’ suite. It was a display of pure carnal Neanderthal biology. Except, instead of trying to eliminate the threat, Ross had gone the route of fucking it into submission. Repeatedly.

No, their love hadn’t been an, ‘our eyes locked and my soul wept and shifted and time stood still as gravity pulled me towards you’ Old Hollywood cliché. It had been a creeping thing, threaded into the seams of what, from the outside, would appear to be the most insignificant moments:

How Jim spreads both almond and peanut butter on his toast but no jam or jelly because, “it’ll ruin it, no.” Every time Jim has to climb onto the counter to reach the top shelf for the brown sugar and his t-shirt rucks up to expose the little dimples just above his waistband. The way he curls around Ross like a grumpy octopus when Ross tries to get out of bed too early - with Jim either wrapped in his blanket-burrito (and wouldn’t it be nice to one day wake up with even a corner of the comforter?), hiding from a time of day Jim deems inhuman. Or he’s all love-bites and kisses and soft looks and lazy arousal and -

“Ah-hem-hm.”

- and Marigold cleared her throat for the third time in a row despite not actually having to. She looked at Ross then back to Jim. Then back to Ross, then back to Jim, then back to Ross, then settled her gaze to hover in the narrow space between them and heaved a sigh, “They’re doing it again.”

“They are,” Dwight agreed, doing a turn of the games table where they’d been sat playing cards when ‘it’ occurred.

“It’s getting a little ... weird.”

“It is.”

“Reminds me of possums.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

Marigold pressed a finger into Jim’s bicep, deep enough to hurt or (at the very least) elicit a response from a normal person, “They freeze up like possums.”

“Possums ‘play dead’, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And what the hell would you consider this!?”

“Zoning out?”

Deciding to ignore the statement, Marigold waved a hand between Ross and Jim’s faces, nearly smacking them with her efforts. It didn’t work. It never did. But Marigold dutifully went though the procedure she’d developed to gauge exactly how ‘checked out’ her friends were this time. More than once, she’d been compelled to hire a staff of medical scientists to diagnose the problem.

Or, more often as of late, paint their faces in theatrical makeup that could rival Cirque du Soleil and dress them in feather boas and gaudy costume jewelry.

Dwight, in all of his neatly composed curiosity, folded his arms and examined the scene from another angle. “Huh,” he summed up eloquently and took a moment before asking, “And what was it that you asked them this time?”

Marigold threw her hands up in disbelief, “Which nut-butter to buy!” because how was that a topic that triggered this - this - this trance-like-lust-cocoon that Jim and Ross fell into whenever someone so much as suggested something remotely reminiscent of a cute fucking moment they’d shared.

No. No, truthfully Marigold did not want to contemplate the hows and whys of what a spread’s role was in their romance, thank you very much.

“It is rude or romantic? I’m honest-to-God not even sure anymore.”

“Rudemantic?” Demelza supplied from where she stood, hovering in the doorway with the grocery list Marigold had been one nut-butter away from finishing. In hindsight, they should’ve gone ahead and bought one of each kind, called it a day. But, no, Marigold like to be inclusive and asked for Ross’ input thus causing the world to tilt sideways and rose petals and hearts and motherfucking stars to flicker into existence around them (or whatever Harlequin Romance crap entails).

Dwight suggested, “We could just go.”

“We could.”

“But you have something else in mind now, don’t you?”

“Oh yes,” Marigold said, “I do.” And with a devilish grin, she hauled Demelza through the kitchen and away, likely to retrieve whatever instruments of torture she deemed fit after being rudely ignored (though Dwight couldn’t rightly say it was their fault) by her housemates.

Dwight sighed and shook his head solemnly, “Well. I supposed I could get on with my boo - ”

“You’re helping!” Marigold announced from elsewhere in the house.

“ - or prepare my mind for whatever atrocity I’m about to aid and abet in.”

- (some time later) -

Ross blinked a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room. He could have sworn it was only mid-morning when they’d last looked up from their card game.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun?

He retraced the events of the day, starting from when he was roused by Jim (in the best way possible) to breakfast on the patio to a shower that he’d shared with two sausage-dogs that didn’t understand the concept of privacy and absolutely had to make sure he was okay washing himself.

Hadn’t Mare been asking about nut-butter, he recalled vaguely.

He glanced around as if to look for her though he knew full-well she wouldn’t have stuck around if he hadn’t provided an answer quick enough. Still, she could’ve been nice and switched the overhead on before she left ...

Finally, Ross let his gaze settle on Jim who, he was startled to find, was glowering at him through stormy blue-grey eyes.

And Ross’ jaw dropped.

He let his mind absorb what he was seeing for a beat before opening his mouth, only to have to close it again with lack of anything to say.

Hell, what does a person say when confronted with ... oh wow ...

Jim’s hair was completely swallowed by a top-hat outfitted with peacock feathers and sludge-green silk fabric; his neck and shoulders were adorned in the most outrageous cloak in fuchsia and gold that Ross’ eyes had ever had the displeasure of looking directly at. And Jim’s face ... biting the inside of his cheek did nothing to stop the snorts of laughter that escaped when Ross really took it in.

His lips had been exaggerated with smears of firetruck-red lipstick that started right below his nose and swept out to his dimples; he had lime green circles, filled in, from eyebrows to cheekbones and his eyes were fringed with extra-long falsies that glittered every color of the rainbow. And his cheeks had been painted solid Barbie-pink giving him the look of an underqualified Drag Queen whose alter-ego was drawn from Keroppi.

There was no other way to put it. Jim had been BeDazzled.

Ross was vibrating in his effort not to laugh outright. Clearly, they had some kind of phantom Mad Hatter Ninja Princess sneaking around the house that needed exorcising.

“Think this is funny, do you, Poldark?”

To avoid Jim’s piercing glare, Ross shifted ever-so-slightly away. The movement caused him to turn toward the mirror above the mantelpiece across from them and thus to catch a glimpse of his reflection. His horrifying, sparkly, Willy Wonka-purple reflection.

“What the actual fuck!?”

“Not so funny now, is it?”

“What happened!?”

Jim gritted his teeth and his tone turned menacing, “We’ve been Marigold’ed ...” he said and it was clear how he felt about that by the tremble in his shoulders and fire in his eyes. His voice dropped further until it was no more than a growl as Jim promised, “Vendetta.”

It took a few moments to take stock of everything that’d been done to them but it was what couldn’t be seen (but rather felt) that made Ross’ eyes go impossibly big and the color drain from his face. He shifted again, experimentally, noting the subtle chafing when he spread his legs a little wider.

“Holy shit. I think she made a fairy out of my - ”

“VEN-DET-TA!!!”

i dislike being ignored. strongly (・`ω´・)

anyway, this is what i imagine other characters get up to when Character A and B ‘fall into each other’s eyes’ or, in Animes, all of the hearts and roses appear, drowning everything else out.

i’m always reminded of the ‘behind-the-scenes’ explanation in Family Guy (about the cutaway scenes - starting @2:30). only, instead of taking a cigarette break, I let my inner pageant diva out :)

part 4 of the ongoing series

#DarkHawk #Ross Poldark #Jim Hawkins #Marigold Reacts #ficlet #writing #my writing #Demelza Carne #Dwight Enys #AO3 #@darkhawkflying #@my-trex-has-fleas #i have no shame #lovey-dovey dorks #inspired by the phenomenal Acid Betty (love her makeup)

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