#my older sister had buttercup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampwritesstuff · 3 months

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🤍 𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 (hyung line)

overprotective!little brother!ot8(separate) x older sister!reader

Request: Hello, I was excited to see you’re opening requests. I've had this idea brewing in my head but I cannot write to save my life. Am thinking of a version for each SKZ member - overprotective younger brother SKZ who's proud of your success in the corporate world (you're all he talks about and hes got them intrigued), but refuses to introduce his noona to the member because he's wary of their flirtatious ways or even crush on you. And then you turn up at an event to surprise your brother and then... I'll leave the rest to your talented imagination because I don't know what kinda ending I'd want for each SKZ member.

cw: none really, just me trying to be funny, the short scenarios are lowkey bad but it was so difficult to come up with different situations and not reuse the same one over and over 😭

Ngl, I giggled and squealed when I saw this request, thank you for being my first request for Stray Kids and I’d be happy to make this for you! Buckle up buttercup, this one’s a long one! This was taking so long to post, and I feel so terrible about that, so I’m going to make two parts for this, the next part being the Maknae line and hopefully that will be done soon! If you guys do enjoy my writing, please consider checking out my masterlist !

Bang Chan

You’re not much older than Chan, but you’re so successful at your corporate job back in Australia that Chan often talks about you to his members and sometimes his fans.

He has for sure mentioned you on his lives, and everyone can see that he really cares about his older sister.

Definitely doesn’t take kindly to fans asking if you’re single or attractive, he’s never given out your name or shown what you look like just because of that.

With the members, it’s not that he thinks they’ll purposely flirt with you, but his protective brother side just gets the better of him and he’d rather not take the chance. The boys are very interested in meeting you but even they don’t know your name or what you look like, and they love their lives enough that they don’t push Chan.

The boys are so confused when you first show up at the concert in Sydney, confused as to who you are until Chan calls you Noona, then they’re all over you once Chan (reluctantly) introduces you to them.

Personally, I don’t think they would be able to flirt with you knowing you’re their hyung’s older sister, which makes you older than them obviously.

I.N and Felix absolutely would ask if they could call you their Noona too 🥹 Seungmin would totally have to hold back on his ‘Chan is so old’ jokes just cause he doesn’t want to make you feel old.

You were waiting backstage for Chan with Hannah, your little sister had practically begged you to come with her to the Stray Kids concert. You hadn’t been to any of your little brother’s concerts before as your job always kept you busy, and you felt a little guilty that you hadn’t been able to attend before now. So when the concert date coincided with your vacation days, you knew you had to jump on the opportunity.

The cheers from the stadium arena were so loud that you wondered how Chris and his members were able to handle it. You kept yourself occupied with Hannah by talking about Chris and his friends, Hannah claimed that they were a rowdy bunch and from what you had seen online while trying to be a little involved in Chan’s idol career, you didn’t think for a second that she was wrong.

You heard him before you saw him, his voice unmistakable to you. He was laughing and joking with his members, whom you regrettably couldn’t name off the top of your head. What can you say? Chan never talks about them with you, and you don’t see much about them often enough in order to memorize them.

“Christopher Bang Chan, what do you think you’re doing to that poor boy. Put him down.” You chided your brother as you saw him walking backstage with one of the boys thrown over his shoulder. The sound of your voice made Chan stop dead in his tracks, making a few of the members behind him bump into him. “Y/n? Noona, what are you doing here?” He asked in surprise, ignoring the looks from his members, as he set down the fox looking boy and walked over to you to engulf you in one of his infamous hugs, he also pulled Hannah in for a hug too despite her protests.

“Decided to surprise you, my vacation days lined up with the concert and Hannah begged me to bring her so.. surprise?” You hummed once he let go, “Chan hyung, are you going to introduce us or are we gonna be left in the dark over here?” Seungmin pipes up. Chan definitely tenses, realizing he needed to introduce you to his friends but you beat him to it, already walking over to them. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Chris’s older sister.”

That’s all it takes for the younger ones to start asking you more questions, and your heart swells when Felix and Jeongin ask to call you Noona as well. “Yes, of course you can!”

Lee Minho

I actually don’t think Minho would talk about you much to anyone but the other members, like yeah, the fans know he has an older sister but any more information they have runs dry after that.

The boys are definitely curious though, cause Minho actually talks about you a lot with them, saying how you’re the co-CEO of a company that raises and donates money for charitable causes.

Even though he shares a lot about you to his friends, he gets weirdly protective over his calls with you cause he doesn’t get to speak with you often.

Literally locked the boys out of the dorm once cause they would not shut up while attempting to say hi to you during one of your rare phone calls.

“I am going to stuff your mouths with tissues and air fry all of you.”

Minho and the rest of Stray Kids were at a fansign event, they were all exhausted. They loved getting to interact with Stay and everything, but it always took a lot of energy from them to keep up with their fans’ excitement. Minho was the last seat, the line of fans seemingly unending to him.

You were at the fansign, unbeknownst to your poor little brother, who had tried so hard to keep you from meeting his rowdy group mates. You had introduced yourself to each member by just your name, and conversation was smooth. Weirdly enough, each boy had felt like they had heard your name and voice before, but they passed it off on being tired. You were the last in line anyway.

Minho hadn’t noticed you until you were literally standing right in front of him, had to hold himself back from leaping over the table towards you. The boys have never seen him talk so animatedly with a fan before. Then they heard him call you noona and they immediately realized who you were.

Chan may or may not have asked staff to keep you afterwards, or it might’ve been Lee Know. You won’t be finding out any time soon.

When the fansign event was over, all of the boys found themselves rushing to properly greet you. But Minho had picked you up and kept you away from them.

“Hyung! Let the pretty lady down!” Changbin whined, but that just spurred Minho to keep you to himself. “Nuh uh! My noona, you guys can’t have her!”

Seo Changbin

You’re his older sister by 5 minutes, yes you’re his twin.

You could’ve easily followed him into the idol industry, Changbin tells you all the time that your visuals would kill. But you just didn’t want that life for yourself, and he respected that.

He’s actually very proud to call you his noona, and doesn’t let anyone forget that he has a successful sister.

“My twin sister is an ambassador for a corporation, and is one of the most reputable women in her position.”

Has told the members how you were his biggest supporter during his predebut days. They secretly admire you very much for that.

Very thankful for you cause they otherwise wouldn’t have Binnie as a member and friend if not for you.

Fans know he has a twin, and you’re actually very active on his socials so fans actually know who you are, they love you. I think the boys at one point looked up your socials and got shy because of how pretty you look, definitely felt a little guilty for thinking like that, but they couldn’t help but agree with Changbin about your visuals.

Tbh, I really don’t think he would try to keep you from meeting them on purpose, they’ve definitely asked but Changbin just never had the chance to set anything up with you since both of you have extremely busy schedules.

“Binnie!” A familiar feminine pitched voice shouted from the front row, Changbin turned around quickly on stage, surprised to have even been able to hear you apart from the crowd.

Changbin excitedly moved over to the other side of the stage where you were standing in the front row, a huge smile on his face as he waved at you. The cameras caught this moment, showing you on the large projection screens in the stadium. The crowd cheered loudly at seeing the Seo siblings in the same place. Obviously, this caused the other members to noticed as well.

For the rest of the concert, each of the boys had, at some point, come around to you and interacted with you a little bit. Changbin made sure to put on a show of shooing them away from you. The rest of the concert was fun, you occasionally appearing on the screen when Changbin would start rapping as you hyped him up, cheering the loudest from your section of seats.

After the concert, some staff had corralled you backstage and a loud, excited Changbin came running up to you and picked you up in a bear hug that made you laugh loudly. Once he set you down on your feet, all the other boys had gathered around to meet you officially. You bowed respectfully as you introduced yourself and the boys couldn’t help but think you were the cutest person to bless their eyes.

Hwang Hyunjin

You’re a famous model that also owns your own clothing line, it’s also very well known that you’re Hyunjin’s older sister.

Hyunjin is always wearing something from your brand, and Stay has made a game out of finding what piece of his outfit is from your brand, it’s even got its own hashtag on social media.

Hyunjin will even model for you when he has the chance to do so, but let’s be fair, he does it everyday anyway.

He’s so proud of you, and always talks about you with anyone who will listen.

Felix is the only member who has met you because you had been at a Louis Vuitton fashion event that Felix had been invited to attend.

Hyunjin definitely wasn’t happy about not being there to introduce you himself. (And maybe worried that Felix had charmed you)

You were sat at a table, enjoying a flute of champagne and eating fancy food that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. These kinds of fashion events had always bored you, sitting at an assigned table with designers and models that you knew nothing about and having to listen to the event host drone on and on about what a privilege it is to have so many guests attending.

But your interest was suddenly piqued when the host announced that they had a few special guest models, all the way from South Korea. Your eyes widened greatly and you nearly spat out your champagne when you watched Hyunjin and seven other males step onto the the runway, modeling random designs. Your brother and his bandmates had come to this event as well and you hadn’t even known.

When the event was over, the guests were left to mingle. You immediately stood from your seat and made your way towards the table you had seen your brother sit down at. When you got there, Hyunjin had his back facing you as he spoke with Felix, who smiled when he noticed you. “This is treason, Hwang Hyunjin.”

Your sudden voice behind him made the poor boy jump in surprise and nearly spill his drink on Felix who just laughed. Hyunjin quickly turned and met your eyes with surprise. “Noona? I didn’t know you’d be here? And what’s this about treason?” He asked, still recovering from the shock.

“Modeling for someone else, I see how it is, your noona’s designs aren’t good enough anymore.” You feigned your sadness dramatically, which had Felix pitching in, “Ah, no worries, I can always replace him as your model!” Which had Hyunjin raising his hands in defense and attempting to sputter out an argument. “I may have to take you up on that offer, Jinnie doesn’t seem to love his noona anymore.” You jokingly pout, jutting out your bottom lip and looking away from your little brother with exaggerated movements.

“I see where Hyunjin gets his dramatic personality from,” Felix says, finally able to see the resemblance now that you and your little brother were standing side by side. Laughs erupted from around the three of you as the other members watched the exchange and saw both you and Hyunjin give Felix the same side eye.

“Oh yeah, I can see a resemblance, right down to their attractive looks too.” Han commented, immediately gaining a scowl from Hyunjin who very much disliked that his friends may think you were attractive, it was already apparent that Felix thought so.

Consequently, this cause Hyunjin to spend the rest of the evening corralling you away from his friends at every chance he got.

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 months

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As You Wish, Chapter 1

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader is described as having a tattoo and goes by Buttercup, verbal arguing, almost physical fighting, alcohol use, references to death and loss and mourning

Jake’s House, a few months after the Uranium Mission

When she had been invited to Miramar to visit her older brother, Robert Floyd, she had been given two ground rules. Follow all of Robby’s instructions so as to not get into trouble with the locals or the top brass. And do not fall for Hangman’s charms.

The first rule was easy. She was a rule follower by nature, allowing herself to be ruled by her brain and her built in sense of logic, so following Robby’s lead was easy. And she’d assumed that the second rule would be easy as well. Anyone named Hangman was not someone she was interested in getting to know, especially since her brother had told her almost a year ago that the man earned the nickname by always leaving his wingmen hanging as he chased the glory for himself. Though Robby had seemed to relax his personal views of Hangman after their latest top secret mission, he remained firm that he wasn’t going to allow his baby sister to become one of his co-worker’s (dare he say friend’s) conquests.

And yet, here she was, three months after she was supposed to leave to go back to New York, cuddled up on Hangman’s couch as they settled in for another movie night. So much for letting her brain rule and following her innate logic.

Her brain was mush and her logic had gone out the window the second he’d asked her to stay, and she knew it wouldn’t be coming back so long as he was tracing his long fingers up and down the length of her spine as she laid on his chest, her head slowly rising and falling as they watched her all time favourite movie.

She sighed happily as she felt his plush lips press into her hairline.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” he whispered as two characters sword fought on screen.

“How happy I am,” she murmured into his chest. “And how lucky. I’m lucky I found you, lucky my job is letting me work remote, lucky to feel so happy.”

Jake pulled her closer, tangling their legs together beneath the light throw blanket that had been tossed over them. “I’m happy too,” he whispered, watching as the main character on screen was now struggling to fight a giant. “Even though I have zero idea what is happening in this movie,” he added with a chuckle.

“That’s because you’ve been too busy trying to cop a feel to pay attention to a seminal classic of our generation.”

“Can you blame me? You’re literally on top of me. No guy in his right mind is going to pass up that kind of opportunity.”

She giggled. “Well, try to focus because my favourite part is coming up.”

Jake pouted but agreed, watching as the man in black outwitted the smaller man, grabbed the princess, and took off running.

“This is your favourite part?” he chuckled as the man in black mocked the princess’s pain.

“Would you hush?” she clapped a hand over his mouth, then shrieked as he licked her palm. “You’re disgusting!” she giggled, wiping her hand down his shirt. “Ooh! This is it!” She turned her attention completely to the screen as the princess shoved her captor down a large hill.

“As…you…wish!” the man called as he tumbled head over heels, the princess following straight after him.

“There had to be an easier way to follow him down the hill,” Jake joked.

“Jake!” she whined, craning her head to look at him from her position against his chest. “She doesn’t care! Buttercup doesn’t feel any pain. Her Westley is alive, so she’s so happy she could fly! Now stop ruining it!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Hey…” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry. Thank you for sharing this with me, Buttercup.”

She blinked, her head cocking to the side in an inquisitive display that made him melt. “Buttercup?”

“Yeah. You’re brave and clever and loyal, definitely stubborn, and I have no doubt that you’d push someone down a hill for insulting you if you knew you could get away with it. Plus…” he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips this time, grinning as she gasped lightly. “I’d definitely fight a determined Hispanic swordfighter, a giant, and a conniving Wallace Shawn to keep you safe.”

She giggled, resting her head back on his chest. “Buttercup…I kinda like that.”

Camp Silver Star, Now

Abby quickly settled into her cabin, a cozy wooden building with four sets of bunk beds and large windows that opened onto the woods that surrounded them. Her cabinmates were nice enough, not judging her for her slight British accent, though there were some questions as to why a child with family in the American military had a British accent. However, by the end of the first day as the eight girls shared stories and jokes about their lives. They had all been impressed when they found out that her mum was a famous author, most of the girls recognizing her mother’s penname from their own bookshelves back home, and even more impressed when they found out her uncle and aunt had flown with the near infamous Dagger Squad. Most of the girls in her cabin had family in the Navy, so they were at least semi familiar with stories of the defunct but elite squad of fighter pilots. Her mum had been right, in a way. Being around other children who had family in the military (whether they were currently serving or retired, like her aunt and uncle) was a bonding experience. Plus, it helped that she genuinely liked the other girls. They were friendly and two of them, her bunkmate Isabelle and her friend Max, even wanted to be fighter pilots, just like her.

Abby could feel the sting of homesickness fade with every day that passed. She filed things away in her brain, stories that she wanted to share with her mum when she was able to call her on Phone Home Fridays, activities she wanted to continue once she was back home, jokes she wanted to tell her aunt to see if she could earn a rare smile. She even planned on begging Penny, the owner of the camp, for some of her recipes to take home, because the food was absolutely delicious.

Abby sniffed as the scent of maple and salt hit her nose as the door to the dining cabin was thrown open and her troop strolled inside for breakfast on the first Friday of her visit to camp. Pancakes were apparently a Friday morning tradition at Camp Silver Star, and Abby could feel herself salivating at the very thought. She was about to make a beeline for the breakfast counter when she heard a voice calling her name.

“Abby!” Max pouted. “My braid came undone. Can you help?”

Abby rolled her eyes fondly. Max had extremely curly hair and always complained about it getting in her eyes when they were doing activities, so Abby had started braiding it for her.

“Yes,” she called back, eyeing the long line of campers jealously as she turned her back on the table laden with all her breakfast favourites, just missing a young camper rushing behind her to bypass the line and go straight to the woman manning the tongs.

“Hey Amelia, does the fruit salad have cantaloupe in it? Because I’m allergic,” Charlie stated, holding out her bowl of fruit salad. She’d been so distracted by the delicious smells and the juicy gossip she was sharing with her friends that she had totally missed that very crucial detail.

“Oh shoot! Yeah, it does. Sorry, Charlie. I’ll talk to the cooks about leaving cantaloupe out of the fruit salad. You and another camper are allergic, so that really can’t be happening.”

“Thanks, Amelia. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll appreciate not getting yelled at by your dad for letting you go into anaphylactic shock,” Amelia winked and Charlie grinned. She’d known Amelia just as long as she’d known Penny, given that Amelia was Penny’s daughter and she’d been present for all visits and memorials for her stepdad.

“Don’t worry. Your mom still scares him, so he wouldn’t yell. Too much.”

Amelia rolled her eyes playfully. “Thank god for small miracles.”

Charlie waved and walked over to her cabin’s table, not paying any attention to the camper who had just sidled up to the breakfast table.

“Good morning,” Abby chirped happily as Amelia turned away from her to grab a plate. “I have a quick question about your fruit salad, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Would there happen to be cantaloupe in your fruit salad? I’m unfortunately allergic.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed as she turned back to face the camper. “I already to — oh!” She blinked as though she was trying to erase a sudden case of double vision. “Oh. A-Abigail, right?” When the camper nodded at her, she giggled nervously. “Yeah. Abigail. Hi. Hi. I’m—I’m Amelia. W-we know about your allergy. You a-and another student—I mean—camper have the same allergy. I…I’m gonna go talk to the cooks right now and make sure they know not to put any more cantaloupe in the fruit salad. Okay?” Amelia rambled, backing up and almost bumping into a cook bringing out a hot tray of bacon. “Oops! Sorry, Ralph! Can you take over for me for a quick second? Thank you!”

Abby was left scratching her head, wondering why the breakfast lady was so jumpy, and particularly curious as to why she could be heard running towards the main office screaming, “MOM!”

Abby and her cabin had spent the morning in the flight simulator, which had only served to cement her desire to be a Navy aviator like her aunt and uncle. She couldn’t wait until later that afternoon, when she could use the computers to video chat with her family back home and tell them all about how she had almost made it to the end of the program without crashing once. Until then, her cabin, Cabin 4, was scheduled with Cabin 7 for horseback riding. And while Abby was an accomplished English rider, she would much rather be joining the queue at the computer building. But, since she couldn’t skip the activity, she lined up with the rest of her cabinmates along the wooden fence that sectioned off the riding ring.

A girl inside the ring was just finishing up her turn on a small course of jumps that had been set up at the opposite end of the ring.

“Way to go, Charlie!” the riding instructor called as the girl, riding a large palomino, trotted back to the entrance of the ring.

“No sweat,” the girl, Charlie, shrugged as she dismounted with ease and patted the horse’s neck. “Champ’s a sweetheart, and that course is nothing compared to the one back home.”

The instructor, Karen, rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, we shouldn’t expect anything less from the ranch girl from Texas. Would anyone like to try to top Charlie’s time?” she called, looking down the line at the rest of the campers.

“I’ll give it a go,” Abby volunteered, adjusting her helmet and leading her horse, Rosita, towards the gate. “I’m a pretty decent rider.”

“I’m not sure ‘pretty decent’ is going to cut it, but suit yourself,” Charlie retorted as she passed.

“Charlie, be nice!” Karen barked, her eyes scanning over Rosita’s tack to make sure it was properly fitted.

“Sorry, Karen,” Charlie replied in a tone that suggested to Abby that the apology was less than sincere.

Abby rolled her eyes and mounted up, patting Rosita’s chestnut hide as she settled into the saddle.

“Don’t let Charlie get to you, okay?” Karen murmured, tightening the girth of Rosita’s saddle. “She’s a nice kid, just a little…”

“Ostentatious?”

Karen stifled a smile. “You all set?”

Abby nodded, gathering her reins and clicking her tongue. “I’ve got this.”

Charlie smirked as the other camper started off at a trot, but that smirk slowly faded as she and the horse started going through the course with ease, clearing the jumps and obstacles with greater ease than she and Champ had. She was left to scoff as the pair cleared the last jump with ease and cantered back to the starting line, the kids from Cabin 4 cheering her on as Karen announced that she had beat her time by one and a half seconds.

“It’s alright, Charlie. You’ll get her next time,” assured Ryann, her bunkmate, as they led their horses back to the stables to groom them and bed them down for the night.

“It’s probably because she was riding English style,” Charlie grumped. “Everyone knows its easier to jump in English style.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” a posh voice sounded behind them, and Charlie rolled her eyes.

“How would you know? Have you ever tried to ride Western?” Charlie challenged, stepping closer. The girl didn’t back down, clipping her horse onto the tether outside the stall and stepping up to her.

“No. Have you ever tried riding English?”

“No, but—”

“Then you can’t claim that one is easier than the other, can you?”

The other girls from Cabin 4 laughed, and Charlie felt her blood boil. She hated being laughed at. It happened enough at her school back home and she absolutely despised it.

“Yeah, well English riders are usually stuck up rich kids anyway. How much did your mommy and daddy spend to teach you how to ride like that?” she snapped, feeling her face flush with anger and envy.

Abby felt tears pool in her eyes. “I…I mean…”

“Why are the horses just standing around, not being groomed?” Karen questioned as she strolled in from the office, taking in the stiffness between the two girls and the heaviness in the air.

“I…it’s nothing, Karen,” Abby murmured, taking her helmet off and pulling her hair out of its low bun.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Charlie added on, removing her helmet and allowing her blond hair to cascade over her shoulders, ignoring the gasp of surprise from those around her.

Charlie turned to put her helmet on the shelf at the same time as Abby, their eyes locking with hurt and anger glimmering beneath the matching green seas.

Abby’s eyes blinked in shock and Charlie schooled her features.

“What are you looking at?” she muttered.

“I…I mean, we…”

“You two are practically identical!” Ryann screeched, the horses nickering in surprise.

“You’re dreaming, Ry,” Charlie stepped around her and started brushing down Champ.

“I agree with her,” Abby stated, stepping up to Champ’s other side and meeting her eyes. “If you take away a few cosmetic differences, we look the exact same.”

Charlie shook her head. “You’re imagining things. Or you need to get your eyes checked.”

Abby scoffed and crossed her arms. “I have perfect vision, I’ll have you know. And I’m not imagining things.”

“Well, I think you are!” Charlie dug her heels in. “There’s no way I look like someone as snooty as you!”

Abby crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t particularly want to look like a cornfed hick either, but at least I’m not delusional and denying the situation.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Girls, girls!” Karen appeared at Champ’s head, soothing the now nervous horse. “Take a walk. Both of you. Cool off before you call home. And I don’t want to hear any more negative talk like that. Not in my stables.”

An echo of “yes Karen” bounced off the walls as the girls glared at each other and stalked off with their cabinmates, each set of girls trying to calm down the green eyed blond in their midst.

“Ugh, dad! But you promised!”

Charlie glared at the pixelated likeness of her father’s face. Normally, she would’ve been thrilled to see her dad. He had a kind face that let Charlie know that, even when he was mad or tired or frustrated, he loved her, the crow’s feet at his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks appearing every time he smiled at her. They appeared now as he grinned at her through the computer screen.

“I know I did. But I’m still saying no. And that’s because the only complaint I’ve heard is about this girl,” Jake Seresin chuckled. “Otherwise, you seem to be having a great time. And I know Penny is taking good care of you.”

“Well, yeah…” Charlie muttered. “But she called me a cornfed hick!” She purposefully left out the argument they had about possibly looking alike, because Charlie knew it was not the truth.

“Only after you called her snooty, punk,” Jake shook his head. “I know I’ve taught you not to dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“I know, but…but she’s so infuriating!” Charlie moaned as she sat back in her seat.

“You want me to come down there and handle it, Charlie?” a voice called as a moustachioed man in a Hawaiian shirt crowded into the screen.

“You are not going out there to handle an 11-year-old, dude,” another man appeared on the call.

“It’s fine, Uncle Roo,” Charlie giggled. “Listen to Uncle Javy.”

“Yeah, Uncle Roo, listen to Uncle Javy and get out of here,” Jake parroted, glaring at his best friend.

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth,” Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado countered, leaning further into view. “You’ve just got to find something you’re better at than her and beat her at it. That’ll teach her.”

“Yeah!” Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw crowed, leaning in on the other side, completely blocking Jake from view. “I’m sure you could hustle her in darts! You and your dad have been beating us since you were big enough to handle sharp objects!”

“Alright, alright, enough!” Jake shoved his way through the two other men and glared at them. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with my daughter?”

Charlie giggled as her uncles blinked at her, then at her dad, before muttering about rudeness and walking away, waving at her as they clicked the door shut in the distance.

“Sorry about those animals,” Jake joked but Charlie shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. I missed them too.”

“Ah. I see how it is,” he pouted.

“Oh, c’mon, dad. You know I miss you most.”

Jake smiled softly, gazing softly at his little girl. “Yeah, I miss you most too.” He sighed. “Listen, kiddo, I…I wanted to tell you something. I—”

“Alright, girls!” Penny called. “Time to switch and let the next batch of girls have their turn.

“Maybe you can tell me next week?” Charlie suggested as she prepared to log off, her heart panging at the thought of not seeing her dad for another week, but the lack of communication was supposed to simulate not always being able to talk to your family while you’re overseas. Plus, it made things equitable for those who had parents in the military, because they wouldn’t have to hear their cabinmates talking about frequent talks with their folks.

Jake nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. Hey, punk?”

“Yeah, dad?”

He grinned. “I love you lots.”

“I love you lots too,” she murmured, feeling herself choke up at the pang of homesickness she felt. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Okay, kiddo. Bye.”

Charlie blinked at the black screen before slowly standing up and walking away, only pausing to glare at Abby as she strolled by and sat in the same cubicle she had just been using.

Her uncles were right. When the time came, she would whoop that prissy girl’s butt in darts, just like her daddy had taught her.

“But mum!” Her Aunt Natasha smothered a chuckle at Abby’s affronted tone. “You and Uncle Bob promised!”

Her mother sighed, pressing her fingers into her eyelids. “I know, love. I’m sorry. But having a small spat with another camper doesn’t mean your uncle can drop everything and come to get you. I’m sorry.”

“But…but…”

“What’s this about, kiddo?” Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace asked from her position next to Abby’s mother. “I know you, you don’t quit on something just because some little bit-ter girl gave you grief.”

Abby giggled weakly at her aunt’s poor attempt at covering the near curse.

“What is it, darling?” her mum leaned closer, close enough for Abby to make out the small buttercup flower tattoo on her clavicle where it peeked out from her neckline. She had seen that tattoo her entire life and it always brought her comfort. She knew from experience that it was the reason her aunt and uncle always called her mum Buttercup.

“She said that I was prissy and snooty and that my mommy and daddy must’ve paid a lot of money for me to be able to ride like I do,” she almost whispered, but she knew from the pain in her mother’s eyes that she had heard her.

“Oh, baby, I…”

“Yeah, no, I was right the first time. What a little bit—”

“Nat!” Buttercup cried, whipping her head around to stare at her best friend. “Not helping!”

“What? You want me to just sit here while someone insults our girl?”

“Yes, I want you to sit there and let me handle it!”

Nat rolled her eyes and stood, half disappearing from frame. “Well, in that case, I’m just gonna go. Bye, kiddo.”

“Bye Auntie Nat,” Abby called at her aunt’s retreating back.

Buttercup sighed again, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, baby. I know that talking about your father is a sensitive subject—”

“Yes, because I don’t know anything about him!”

“I…I know,” Buttercup murmured, leaning in closer to the screen. “And I know we should’ve had a conversation about him a long time ago, but…”

Abby’s shoulders heaved and she leaned in close too. “I know. I’m sorry, mum.”

Buttercup smiled softly. “My sweet girl…you have nothing to be sorry about. I…I’ll tell you what. We’ll have a girl’s day when you get back and we’ll have that conversation.”

“You promise?”

“I swear.”

“Thank you, mum.”

Buttercup smiled at her through the screen. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for having a much-needed conversation with my growing daughter. And in the meantime, please just ignore this girl. I’m afraid that engaging in more competition with this girl will escalate the situation beyond either of your control.”

“But mum!”

“Just ignore her. She’s probably taking something wrong in her life out on you.”

“So, you want me to be the bigger person?”

“I know it’s not fair, but yes. I know you have the same competitive spirit as your uncle and Nat, and that you need that competitive spirit to make it at the Naval Academy and at Top Gun, but right now you’re just a kid. So, please, just let it go.”

“Mum, I—”

“Alright, girls! Say goodbye and let the next group have a chance!” Penny called.

“Abby, promise me.”

“Bye mum! Love you!”

Buttercup sighed before smiling. “I love you too, sweetheart. Take care.”

Abby smiled, feeling a small pang of loneliness as she looked at her mother’s kind face. “I’ll see you soon, mum,” she murmured before closing the tab and sighing. She had been feeling so much better about being away from home, but seeing her mother’s face made the longing for home rush back. Home was her mom, her uncle, and her Aunt Nat, where everyone understood her and nobody questioned her small, odd family. Home was not Camp Silver Star, where a girl who looked just like her gave her attitude and made her think about a huge part of her life that was missing.

“Sorry, mum,” she whispered to herself. She loved her mom and often took her advice, but not this time. She could not in good conscience just ignore this girl. That’s not how she operated. So she would find a way to put this Charlie girl in her place, whether her mother liked it or not.

While the other campers were making their phone calls home, the kids who had already made their calls or were waiting to call got to hang out in the games cabin. It was full of a mix of old and new arcade games, an air hockey table, board games, a couple of pool tables, and a dart board.

When Abby arrived at the games cabin, she immediately spotted Charlie and her friends standing at the dart board and an idea sparked in Abby’s brain. She was decent at darts, her aunt and uncle had made sure of it, and she was good at bluffing. Perhaps this was something that she could beat Charlie at.

Rolling her shoulders back, she strode over to the small group of girls and cleared her throat.

“I’ll play winner,” she declared, staring Charlie down.

The other blond smirked and nodded. “Done deal,” she chuckled and threw a dart, not daring to break eye contact.

Abby turned at the sound of cheers and gasps, and saw the dart sticking directly in the bullseye, her heart sinking at the sight. She was, in fact, decent at darts, but clearly Charlie was more than decent. This would be more difficult than she thought.

“And that—” Charlie let the dart fly and smirked in triumph. “Is game.”

Abby sighed but something occurred to her as Charlie’s friends surrounded her for a congratulatory hug.

“I guess that makes us tied!” she called over the din, causing it to silence immediately as Charlie turned to her.

“What are you talking about? I beat you.”

“Yeah,” Abby agreed. “At darts. But I beat you in the riding ring. So that makes us tied.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t count. I beat you fair and square.”

“If you insist…I suppose that means you’re too scared to face me at billiards.”

Charlie froze, a scowl marring her eerily familiar features. “I’m not scared.”

“Prove it,” Abby stepped up to her, gesturing to one of the empty pool tables. “Winner can even break.”

“Fine,” Charlie muttered through gritted teeth. At least she knew she was a champ at pool too. She had been playing with her dad and uncles since she was tall enough to reach the tabletop. However, she gulped as she watched Abby expertly rack the balls and chalk her cue, maybe it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Eight ball, corner pocket!” Abby crowed as the ball sunk neatly into the net.

Charlie groaned, leaning on her pool cue. They had been pretty evenly matched up until one of Charlie’s stripes had ricocheted wrong and sunk one of Abby’s solids. After that, Abby had proceeded to sink every one of her balls neatly, ending with the solid black eight ball. Charlie had never seen anything like it, not even when her dad was playing against Javy and Rooster.

Abby approached her, her hand outstretched with a small, taunting grin gracing her face. “Good match. I believe that makes us 2-1.”

Charlie smacked her hand away as a bolt of frustration tore through her. “I told you! Your little stunt while riding didn’t count! Besides, even if it did count, Rosita did all the hard work anyway!”

“Then I suppose it was Champ who did all the hard work while you were riding the course!”

“That’s not true and you know it! I’ve spent my entire life on the back of a horse! You’re only a half decent rider because your mommy and daddy paid for you to be.”

Abby fought back the tears that almost always automatically pooled in her eyes at the mention of her parents. “Stop. Saying. That. You don’t know the first thing about me!”

“Or. What? You gonna sic your mommy and daddy on me?”

The two girls were nose to nose, their friends and fellow campers huddled around them in a circle, anxious to see exactly what was going to happen.

“Ahh!” Abby’s cry was sharp and painfilled as she pushed Charlie away from her, but Charlie had been working on her father’s ranch since before she could walk and she wasn’t so easily swayed.

“That’s it!” She grabbed for Abby, but before she could make contact, she felt a firm hand grip her arm and looked up to see Penny standing above them, holding the two of them apart as her nostrils flared.

“I will not tolerate any fighting in this camp,” she stated stonily, glaring between Charlie and Abby. “And from what I’ve heard, the two of you have been at each other’s throats all day.”

“W-what are you going to do with us?” Abby murmured, her eyes heavy with fear.

“Send us home?” Charlie tacked on hopefully.

Penny sighed heavily. “No. The two of you will be assisting with extra chores around the camp instead of participating in group activities for two weeks. And…you will be removed from your cabins and placed into a smaller cabin. Together.”

Charlie gasped. “You can’t—”

“And you will be there for the rest of your stay. Together. Amelia will come get you for your meals and escort you to the dining hall, where you will be allowed to sit with your friends. Other than that, you will be living together, cleaning together, and working together until you two can figure out how to get along.”

“Mrs. Mitchell—”

“Aunt Penny—”

“My decision is final. You have ten minutes to grab all your belongings and to meet me by the trail head. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Yes, Aunt Penny.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

Penny sighed as she sat at her desk, her small office only lit by her desk lamp and the faint hint of moonlight trickling in from the window. It had been a long day. Between Amelia hunting her down and explaining that there were a pair of doppelgängers at camp, Karen’s report about a verbal altercation during riding practice, and one of her younger campers running to tell her about two girls getting into an argument in the games cabin, she knew she deserved the small glass of whiskey she was currently sipping on. The campers were safe, the security systems were set, and Amelia had opted to sleep close to the smaller cabin where her two problem campers were now housed, claiming that she’d be able to step in before any blood was shed if the two girls went at it again.

Penny sighed again, rolling her neck before looking at the photo frame she had on her desk.

“I don’t know, Mav,” she whispered to the portrait of her late husband, dressed in his military whites as he waited for her to come down the aisle. “Maybe inviting Charlie and Abby here at the same time was a mistake.” She laughed quietly before taking another sip of her drink. “I know, I know. You would’ve wanted me to invite them the second I opened this place, but I wanted to have a year or two experience before I tried to do…this.” She shook her head. “They’re just so angry at each other. And at themselves. God, they remind me so much of Amelia after I split from her dad. But at least she was old enough to understand. And I wasn’t hiding a whole sibling from her either.” Penny drained her glass and leaned in close to the picture. “I know. You’re right. It’s my duty to try to fix this…the way you wanted to before you died.” Penny sighed shakily and wiped her eyes. “I miss you, Mav. I know you would’ve known how to bring Charlie and Abby together if you were here. I’ll do my best. I love you.”

With that, Penny pressed a light kiss to the glass of the frame, thousands of lip prints providing proof of her nightly ritual, and stood to stretch before heading off to bed, her head swimming with different ideas on how to bring the two girls together.

—————————-

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics, @starkleila, @magical-spit, @whatislovevavy, @simplyreading96, @vivalas-vega

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #parent trap au #jake hangman seresin #glen powell #jake hangman fic #as you wish fic

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fantasy-relax · 3 months

Text

BLAME @crispyfriedchikem

Seriously, Are you surprised? What did you expect from Cassandra Dimitrescu, resident diva, a playgirl with insurmountable infamy? You should accept the fact that she simply used you like the others behind you.

But she had never done for others what she did for you, she had never shown the affection she showed you, Cassandra was not cruel enough to tell you that she loved you and that she would be with you always, only to go away in search of fame and glory.

Right?

At least in the first two weeks you two will call each other, you will stay awake just to share some words with her even if you talked only about her, her roles and new works. But things started to get rocky with her chaotic routine.

"Sorry my star, too busy call you later! "

"oh, you were sleeping sorry love"

"I'm had to practice for my Audition call you later!"

Everything explode it one day that you called in the middle of the day forgetting that she was in rehearsals

"YOU INTERRUPTED MY REHEARSAL, DON'T CALL ME I WILL CALL YOU WHEN I CAN"

You stopped calling.

Your messages were read and sometimes she will answer.

But barely a month since she was gone she stopped. After three months without messages, without calls, without a signal you are a mess.

Most of the time you are in your room with your phone in hand waiting for her to remember you. The old texts that you had from her mock you mercilessly.

"Don't worry, my star, I take you with me and I leave my heart with you"

At least that was true.

She took everything from you and left the love she gave you wrapped around you like a chain around your neck.

Daniela and Angie, concerned about your mental state, first tried to distract you with alcohol and parties.

You were drinking for two weeks, neglecting your classes and grades, when you ended up in a fight with buttercup after she made a comment about your relationship with the actress, it was very clear that it was not the best way to cheer you up.

Nights of partying turned into nights of movies and video games, it helped but in the day all you did was to think about your girlfriend.

"Why don't you join a club or get a part-time job?" Daniela had commented while she was choosing which movie to watch. "Busy hands, busy mind and all that."

"Oh! My aunt donna has a flower shop you can work with her!" Angie exclaimed as she served the slightly burnt popcorn onto a plate. "She's outside the campus but she's not too far away."

You thought about it, a job wouldn't be bad but being so close to flowers would make you remember Cassandra after all that was the reason you avoided going to the cafeteria and Elena, too many memories.

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

The day that you were planning to visit the clubs you ran into a familiar blonde walking with her arms full of books and papers.

Bela Dimitrescu, the resident workaholic and the older sister of Daniela and Cassandra.

Seeing how the amount of her workload was blinding her you offered a hand.

"Let me help you"

"I don't need it"

"I insist"

"Are you deaf I-"

Everything ended on the ground.

"...You don't plan to pick it up?"

"You threw it!"

"Because you were in the way!"

One thing led to another and you ended up being part of the student council. Your friendship with Bela progressed little by little. Cassandra had told you about her trips with her mother. Bela told you about her time with her aunt Donna and Angie.

You invited her to the movie nights and she help you with your homework.

She brought you food when Cassandra absence affected you too much, she laid down with you hugging you tightly while you cried in her chest.

You brought food for her when she was working extra hours in the council, you silently sat down beside her and took half of her work.

When she told you that Headmistress Miranda had stolen her heart you thought she was joking, but the stern look on her face told you that she was serious.

Someone else would have laughed, mocked or called a psychiatric hospital. But you went blank for a moment processing her words . The longer you remained silent, the more fear appeared on the president's face.

"Please believe me, I'm not crazy" the desperation she spoke with was very familiar to you.

"Cassandra is very busy when she gets free time she will call me after all she promised to do so" Daniela only looked at you with pity, Cass had promised to send her postcards and call often before leaving with her mother to pursue her dreams of stardom, two letters arrived into her hands and the only calls were the ones their Aunt Donna received once a month from her mother asking about them.

"She hasn't answered me yet but I know she read my message, she will answer me later for sure" Angie looked at you with frustration and helplessness, knowing well that you would end up crying in your room again because you wouldn't receive a single word.

The desperation for someone to believe you. To be on your side. Trust what you say.

So that's what you did.

You trusted her, you helped her win her heart back, and your friendship grew even more.

"Bela I can't take it!"

"Either you accept it or I'm putting it on you myself"

A golden ring with three rubies incrusted, a token of her gratitude. You refused but she was stubborn. In the end you accept it.

(You noticed that she started using clothes that hide her neck, because it was weird to see her in outfits like that of course not because you were checking out her tits)

You ignored the voices saying that you changed one dimitrescu for another

When she offered to travel the world, you accepted simply because you didn't want to stay in a place full of memories of your girlfriend. Is she still your girlfriend if you haven't talked to her in a year?

You were waiting for Bela outside a museum in London, a mother was talking on the phone next to you with her son holding her hand, the mother walked away from him leaving the boy alone with his ballon a few meters away from you.

The next thing you knew was somebody screaming and metal scrap was falling just were the boy was standing you moved without thinking using your body as a shield protecting him from the danger, pain was all you could feel before everything went black.

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

Today it marked one month since your accident, she didn't want to leave you alone, fear that you would vanish the moment she left your side plagued her mind. She was only leaving to clean herself and eat what her stomach and nerves would allow.

Was this her punishment for wanting what wasn't hers?

You who treated her with affection despite not being easy to deal with.

You who reminded her to eat when she was focused on her work.

You who trusted her despite your doubts.

You who helped her deal with her emotions with patience and care.

You who offered love and loyalty without asking for anything in return.

How could she not fall in love with you?

Is ironic, isn't? you gave her heart back only to gently remove it from her chest with your hands.

But you were in love with her sister. You were dating her sister. Cassandra, with you had zero communication even after one year since her departure.

She doesn't even know that you're hurt the only ones are Daniela and Angie. That wanted to be with you but Bela and donna stopped them, barely contained they called every morning and night for updates in your state.

If Cassandra called her she will tell her, if she called any of them and she asked for you they will tell her. That was the consensus.

She hasn't.

Why Cassandra had to be the one to get your heart?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the doctor responsible of you.

"Miss dimitrescu, I need to talk with you"

"Yes, I will be back soon, Mc"

Out of the room the doctor is blunt.

"Like you now they were really lucky, minor fractures in their back and a perforated shoulder, however the studies showed that the head trauma that they suffered was more serious that we thought. With this kind of results is safe to say that the probability aftereffects is high"

The doctor pointed to a part of your brain in the Radiography.

"This is were memory is stored and is the most affected part, this means that you should prepare yourself in case of memory loss"

Memory loss?

"This may vary from losing a few weeks to years, losing the ability to remember at all to just having a few gaps in memory there is not exact way to know until they awake and even we can't know if will be temporary or permanent. So I recommend to prepare yourself."

"I understand, thank you"

She enter the room, practically dropping in the chair.

Memory loss.

You could forget about everything. All your life, gone.

She fidget with the ring in hanging from the chain in her neck the one that was exactly the same as the one she gave you.

Normally it will be hidden in her clothes but after after this she needed the comfort.She just wanted to have something that was only her and yours.

Maybe you will be lucky and you will only forget the few weeks that you were traveling, that was okay nothing important happened. The laughs, the inside jokes, the special moments that you share with her, gone.

Maybe you will forget a few months, that is okay too. Ignoring the fact that you will put right in the time when Cassandra left you...

What if you forget about Cassandra at all?

No, she shouldn't think about it.

But..

Without Cassandra you will be free to love again... She may had a chance.

(You confessing your love to her)

No, she can't do that.

(You kissing her full of passion)

She wouldn't.

(You spoilt her rotten with all the love and affection you are capable of give)

She is better than that.

(Your hands on her hips caressing her softly)

(The trail of kisses burning her skin)

(The desire in your eyes just for her)

(Making her yours in exchange you will be hers)

(Hers, hers, hers)

No, no, no

How can she even think about that? She is a liar this is not the first time she does it.

You are waking up.

Thank God.

She calls the nurse, you try to move, she put a hand on your chest to stop you. You look at her confused.

"Who are you?"

She feels cold, you forgot her.

She deserve it.

The nurse entered with the doctor. You are checked properly, after giving you water, the question of the million is asked.

"What Is the last thing you remember?"

"I received a letter offering a full scholarship in Rumania, the last I remember was choosing what course to take. I selected to enter? To Check? The theater. After that everything is a blur."

"I see, Miss dimitrescu how long ago that will be?"

"Two years"

After being told about the situation with your memory and the care that you will need to fully recover, both of you are alone in the room.

You look at her and she knows what you're going to ask.

"I'm sorry for repeating but who are you to me"

Your friend.

"..."

Say it

"I'm"

SAY IT

"I'm your wife"

MONSTER

You looked surprised but not disgusted or disappointed. Bile was in her throat but she smiled warmly.

"Its okay kitten, the doctor said that because of the head injury you received your memories will be affected, don't worry if it doesn't comes to you yet or never. I will be right at your side like always, forever"

She is the worst.

She is disgusting.

How can she do this to you?

How can she do this to her own sister?

She is a horrible person.

Because she refuses to let you go.

But...

She will be the best wife, she will make you happy, she won't neglect you or make you doubt of her love. She will make things better, she promise.

"I'm sorry, I must had you worried sick dear"

You clean the tears in her face with your hand, you touch her face gently and she can help but hold your hand close to her face.

You yawn the medicine working fast.

"Rest, Inima mea I will be right here"

You fall asleep fast.

She keep your hand in her face.

Please just love her.

Even if the love you give her is less than the one you had for Cassandra, she will be happy for you to love her.

#Resident lover #Bela Dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #My work

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feyofmay · 9 months

Text

Girls are Never Civil

Laurie x March!Reader x Jo (platonic) Summary: When a Laurie & Jo are walking home, they spot Jo's younger sister on the ground (reader/Ducky). Jo attempts to help her sister, but it does not go as planned. word count: 2.5k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, laurie gets kicked in the no no square, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader romance story, so please let me know if you want more!! its already at 20k wordsssss :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

This is part of a larger story I'm writing called "What Women are For", which is Laurie x Reader (romantic). Let me know if you're interested in reading it!

Tightly curled up into a knot, in the middle of the dirt road, a trembling wad of buttercup yellow fabric shakes and wails into the torn flesh of her fist. Sympathising with the lump of stains, tears, and snot, the trees hang still in a moment of tender silence. The middle March sister has stopped trying to breathe through her sobs, as the dust from the path had raced up her nose and left a shocking pain. It’s as if someone shoved stinging nettle straight up her nostrils and pushed until the tip of the branch tickled her brain.

A hot red bite mark appears as if it’d been welted to the plush skin of her hand. She swears she’s bitten straight to the bone. Still, the tears continue to cascade down her blubbery cheeks as they slip their way into the wound. Overwhelmed with pulsing, hot pain, she can’t tell if the injury, itself, or the salt from her tears biting at her raw flesh hurts more. Everything hurts so much. All she wants is for Marmee to pick her up and cradle her like she had when the girl was younger. She wants Marmee to kiss away her tears and promise her everything would be alright. She wants to be home, where Meg would wipe at her wounds with a damp rag while Amy buries her face into Beth’s stomach and cries her own, fat tears. Even when she isn’t the one who got hurt, Amy still always ends up crying. However, the middle March didn’t mind Amy’s theatrics, as it meant that Jo would end up teasing the younger March rather than her. Still, she’d never admit that, or any of this. She’d be far too embarrassed. If anyone knew that she felt this way, she’d surely have to run away from home forever. Wherever could she go, anyways? She’d go West to California. No, she’d had to leave the country and go to Europe. Maybe then she could build her life up from scratch and escape the teasing of her sisters.

Caught up in her own puddle of pity, the middle sister doesn’t catch the familiar sound of clumsy, crashing boots hitting the dirt path. Not far down the road and following the setting sun, a grey tattered wool skirt chases the wind as a high collared, perfectly off white shirt stumbles after her. Their laughter sings in perfect harmony with each other, and, around them, the world pauses to smile and watch as their youth passes them by. Each leaf and blade of grass gleams warmly, knowing that they will feed this memory to the flora of next summer. Unsuspecting and attempting to hide within the folds of her baby fat, she doesn’t hear as the footsteps come to a halt. The sound of their panting breaths fills their own ears. For a moment, all they can do is stare at the small conglomeration of dirt and snot. Swiftly, that moment ends as one of them stomps up to her.

“Ducky, what on Earth are you doing?” she spits out with more venom than intended, but such is the voice of a teen girl. The older sister’s hand shoots out and pinches Ducky’s dust-covered forearm. However, the young girl doesn’t squeal as her eyes shoot up to confirm her worst fears. The dirt on her face has mixed with her tears, leaving a thin film of mud on her cheeks. Her face is still stuffed with her baby fat and clinging onto her childhood as she enters her first few years of teenagedom. Immediately after locking eyes with her older sister, Ducky starts to thrash and shake like a force beyond nature. Her fists swing wildly and her legs rise and fall like the waves of the tsunami. Dirt kicks up around them and peels back their human disguise. It reveals what the two truly are. They are girls. They are hurricanes and the screaming wind at night. They are motion and sound and all that will forever remain restless. Girls will never be civil. They will never shed their empathy to trade it for boots and proper manners. Instead, they will spend their days fighting in the dirt and letting the dust mix with their sweat. The dust will turn to mud and clay, and, when the sun sets, they will freeze into statues, preserving their childhood forever.

“Let go, Jo-” Ducky shrieks as she kicks everywhere but where her sister is planted. Still, Jo is stronger than her sister, and her grip is determined. Ducky’s plump fingers wrap around Jo’s wrist as she continues to flail like a blouse in a tornado.

“What is wrong with you?” Jo yells back even louder, joining her sister in her insanity. After all, what are sisters for, if not to join each other in their melodrama? Rushing to her aid, a boy, about Jo’s age, presses his palms to the younger girl’s shoulders and allows his weight to give him the upperhand. Ducky, seeing Jo’s companion, lets out a deafening scream as her eyes shoot up to Jo.

“-No! No! No! Just let me die here! I’d rather die!” Ducky spits out, as she clings onto her sister’s arm. Now, instead of screaming curses about her name, her fingers plead Jo to not let go. Her eyes, the size of teacups at this point, dart between the two. She’s too stubborn to hold her sister's gaze, but she’s too scared to look into the boy’s, who she’s spent the last half year avoiding like he’s death incarnate.

When he first introduced himself to the March’s, after the ball where Meg had sprained her ankle, it was then she started feeling something fester and skitter around in her stomach. An adolescent boy was in her house. He was in her house, and he was talking to his sisters. She didn’t speak a word, and she never intended to ever find herself within a mile of him. Every time he would make his way over to their home, Ducky would race over to tumble behind the nearest wall or piece of convenient furniture. Amy and Beth would laugh and tease her for her ridiculous behavior, but they didn’t understand. How could they? Amy and Beth were still kids, but she, Ducky, was a teen girl. Amy and Beth could never understand.

“No can do. So sorry to dissapoint,” Jo’s friend replies through shallow gasps of air, and, for the first time, Ducky gets a good look at his face. His hair is the same color as when the first calls of morning brush against the forest’s skin, and slivers of his eyes twinkle amber in the last caresses of the day’s gentle touch. When she meets his eyes, his gaze is real but not stern. Without speaking, she can see the boy who’s only truly grown in the ways that allow him to wear a man’s clothes. With hunched shoulders and a tight jaw, what stares back at her isn’t the lumbering shadow she’s stitched onto his frame. All that’s there is a teen boy, who’s not all that different from her.

And, as the dust settles, and all three of them catch their breaths, the youngest of them is able to think again. It’s then, she realizes, a boy, a teen boy, is touching her. Once again, she tenses up and acts before her next breath. To say exactly what happened next is impossible. However, in the blink of an eye, Ducky’s knee raises, his grip loosens, and suddenly he’s curled up into himself and clutching between his legs.

“Are you insa - Oh lord, Teddy are you okay?” Jo stumbles through her words as she rushes over to her friend’s side. Ducky inches away from the two of them. Her breaths are shaky and ragged, and the inside of her throat is torn from heaving in dust. She’s not exactly sure she’s even breathing.

“He grabbed me! What else was I to do?” Ducky shouts over Jo while a new stream of steady tears bubble down her cheeks. All she can hear is the rush of her heart as her skin tightens and squeezes her aching bones. Does Jo care more about Teddy then her? Will Jo hate her forever for this? She can’t lose Jo to a boy. It would be too devastating.

“Because you were kicking and squealing like a rabid pig,” Jo reminds her as Teddy starts to sit himself up and brush off the dirt that cakes his linen pants. The dirt has turned his pristinely off-white shirt a patchy shade of taupe, and pieces of hair cling to the sweat that stains his forehead.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad at me,” the younger sister begs, pulling her knees to her chest. Only then does Jo notice the clean rip across her sister’s dress, and her knees, which may have once been red, are painted a festering purple and green. Jo shuffles on her knees over to her sister. Reaching out to touch Ducky’s wound, her hand is quickly swatted away.

“Don’t touch me-”

“What happened?” Jo asks with a biting tongue that’s nearly indistinguishable from Marmee’s stern tone, who they both knew would be anything but pleased if she saw this scene play out in front of her.

“- I won’t tell you!” Ducky exclaims, her fingers digging into the fabric of what once was a yellow dress. Now, the dress better resembles a scrap of hazy beige fabric with twisting red stains.

“If I say, he’ll make fun of me! I’ll be a big joke to the both of you,” Ducky continues rambling on before Jo can reply. The older sister scoffs before she can even think of a smart response.

“Stop being stupid.”

“I’m not! He’ll laugh at me and then you’ll join in too. I’ll die before I tell either of you.”

“I promise I won’t laugh if you tell us what happened,” Teddy speaks up, stopping the glaring contest between the two March sisters. Rather, he ends up with both of the sisters’ wrath upon him as they try to burn holes through him with their gazes alone. However, after his words settle in a new silence, the younger of the two March’s expression softens like butter left in the sun.

“...Will you pinky promise?” she inquisitively replies, not an ounce of humor in her voice. Still curled into a shaking dust ball, Ducky’s shoulders fall as her skin relents and lets her body relax again.

“Yes, I will,” He replies with the same sincerity as he crawls over, pinky extended. Still shaking, Ducky sticks out her pinky. The blood on her finger has congealed, leaving a deep maroon and brown crust on it that highlights the creases and wear of her fingers. Without hesitation, Teddy curls his pinky around her own, and she stares down as some of her blood coagulates and mixes with the muck that coats his hand. The teen boy’s gaze stops slightly higher, as he finally is granted permission to commit the middle March’s features to memory. Her cheeks are practically about to burst with youth and baby bat. An enteral rosy flush of girlhood stains her skin, and her eyes walk a fine line of being doe-like and bug-like. Her features are an odd amalgamation of the child she’s been and the lady she’s becoming. Suddenly, a fit of giggles bubbles up from her chest, and she looks up at Teddy while their fingers stay intertwined.

“I thought I saw a fairy, and so I chased it. and then I tripped and fell and ripped Meg’s dress and the pain was so bad I bit my hand and I skinned my knees and I think some of my chin,” Ducky admits with a twitching, uneven smile stretched across her face. One of Teddy’s eyebrows raise in an incredulous surprise, presenting a smile that’s symmetrical to the younger girl’s. He slowly turns his head back to meet Jo’s gazes, whose eyes are glued to her sister’s. Slowly, like a pot of water coming to a simmer, all three of them dissolve into a fit of giggles. Their voices bubble and pop into the summer air as they shake the dust off their clothes with their heaving shoulders and shaking heads. None of them know exactly what the joke is, but none of them can fight through the never ending stream of laughter to ask. For what feels like seconds and days, the three lay on the road twisting and writhing in laughter until the sun finds rest in a valley far from the three’s line of sight.

Once the three finish collecting the remnants of themselves and picking up their aching bodies from the road, Jo hoists Ducky onto her back and kisses her bloody hand. A small streak of the dusty maroon liquid stains her lips, but the older sister doesn’t try to wipe it off. Ducky’s cheek is pressed to hers as they walk at a leisurely pace. All either can hear is the steady rate of their perfectly similar breaths. A silent “I love you” is shared in each inhale, and, through each exhale, boths’ feelings are validated and fully realized. Teddy matches their pace as they walk through the beginning of the young night’s song. Stretching out her hand, Ducky lightly brushes the creased fabric of his sleeve in a poor attempt to tap his shoulder. The young girl doesnt look over to him but, rather, rests her chin on her sister’s shoulder.

“I’m Y/N, but Jo n’ everyone calls me ‘Ducky’,” the young girl introduces herself as if he hasn’t been Jo’s friend for several passing seasons, “I hate it, but you can call me it, if you want to.” Although she has found the courage to speak to the young boy, she hasn’t found it in herself to look him in the eyes. Perhaps one day she’ll find her bravery hiding in the trenches of her gut, but today is not that day. Teddy smiles through a sigh as he looks over at her. Half of her dress is so torn it almost drags against the ground, and the rest of her is hidden under the protective folds of Jo’s gray skirt.

“I’m Laurence, but Jo calls me ‘Teddy’ and everyone else calls me ‘Laurie’,” The young boy plays along in introducing himself. For a split second, he catches her eyes darting over to catch his gaze, but the second is quick.

“Okay, Laurie,” she replies simply, ending the conversation as soon as it had started. For the rest of the trek home, the three walk in silence, and the world doesn’t speak either as it watches over the three make their way home.

Please like & repost & comment !! Also let me know if you're interested in reading the whole Laurie x reader fanfic !! It goes back & forth between past & present, similar to 2019 movie adaption.

#timothée chalamet #theodore laurence x reader #laurie x reader #jo march x reader #little women 2019 #laurie laurence #laurie laurence x reader #louisa may alcott #little women #laurie x jo x reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

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Any other Elvis and wife/girlfriend sagas in the works in the same vein as Elaine and Gigi?

Mm why yes, yes there are. Who knows if I’ll get to them but I’d love to share. I’m still chipping away at the Regency Au, I bet I’ll keep spitting things out for it at random. But then there’s working title: Honeysuckle. Which sort of came out of people requesting more in the tome of Honeymoon. I’ve nothing written for it yet except a plot pitch I shared with a couple dear friends, I’m going to include it below for anyone interested. Maybe y’all will have additional suggestions, I’d welcome them. Xoxo

Honeysuckle Plot 🎀

I once had a whole Governor’s Daughter plot but then the more I read about her (the real gal Ann) the more I thought it was sweet they just had a kissy friendship, both being well aware they were headed in opposite trajectories. They parted ways and remained in contact, we need more of those represented so I’m not going to meddle and make it steamy...

BUT THEN

I had a notion and I do need more scheming on it but -what about her little sister, ok?

See, the Governor's daughter -the little sister-, she’s adorable and very young and a buttercup when Elvis comes home in 1960. She has posters of him in her mansion room, squeezes his hand too tight when he goes through the endless greeting of shaking hands and is a giggly mess when she spies on him kissing Ann while Ann shows him the mansion. Altogether her girlish crush is cute as can be, because he’s sweet as pie to her and he looks like Prince Charming and he becomes friends with the family and laaa deee daaa…

Life goes on. A few years later he even comes to her sweet sixteenth when she writes him a detailed letter making a case and citing how he said (teased more like) that he would marry her just for her custard, the least he could do is come to her birthday party. And so he comes and again, it’s cute.

Now it’s not entirely unusual for him to stay with the Governor and his family when he’s recording in Nashville and one year Ann gets engaged and he comes to that party and perhaps there’s a bit of moment, and eying up of his little friend as she stands with her fruit punch and passes her bridal sister gifts- “lordy, buttercup, you’re fillin’ out nicely” he complaints in a bit of daze.

“Elvis, you know I’ve turned sixteen!” she’s a bit outraged he didn’t notice how grown she’s become, he watched her blow out that candles!

And yet, it remains all cute.

BUT THEN

one night he stays with them when she’s seventeen and she thinks nothing of it, letting him into her room along with a couple other of the old hooligan set, gardeners kids and the maid’s daughter and a few other younguns, because they’re gonna do what they’ve been doing since the first night he stayed with them once all the adults go to bed.

PILLOW FIGHTS!

except this one, oh it’s fun as can be but when 3:00 am strikes they all reckon they should probably go to sleep, so the kids sneak out her window and Elvis sneaks out her door to go to his room down the hall.

but alas!

somebody sees him, and my, my, ain’t that front page news the day after?!

And her daddy calls Elvis into his office furious, i mean, ‘what’s he thinking sneaking into his young daughters room in the middle of the night?’

I’m imagining Elvis trying to explain to her father and Governer’s all “yeah, sure, of course it was a pillow fight uhuh.” 🙄 “Mr Presley, you’ve already taken my hospitality for granted, don’t take me for a fool, too”

Governor had figured between that and the way Elvis had maintained good friendship and been a gentleman with the older sister. that the reports on him where exaggerated -but this!

I’m sorta imagining him calling Buttercup into his office too, partway through this, the Sweet Little Thing swears up and down it was just a pillow fight and even hikes up her skirt to show a bruise, assures her daddy it’s not so bad, she walloped Elvis real hard on his belly right back, “-won’t you show him, E?”

Which is… painfully innocent and also exposes Elvis as being a bit of uh…well…she’s comfy enough to hike her skirt up and demand to see his belly. What a mess.

But like, she’s from the debutante world, she’s seventeen, it’s prime time to be out and meeting boys and snagging s marriage and Elvis has gone and ruined it.

I think chiefly what I love about this possible Au is that it gives Elvis a chance to be impulsively chivalrous as he often was, — he offers to marry her.

And then it allows him to be regretful and lazy, which he also was, and postpone the thing indefinitely. Boarding school and model school and all sorts of engagements he visits her at, keeping up appearance and allowing himself the occasional slip of composure, she’s lovely after all. And likes him so very much. He just knows marrying would be the worst thing imaginable. It would, he’s not suited.

But it’s idiotic leaving a beautiful gem like that in the wild, she should be secure round his finger and chained to his side but he doesn’t see it, not when he’s so busy with his movies and such. Not until she’s in the papers again with a flock of fellas around her, not acting particularly engaged. It makes Elvis’ engaged blood boil. He visits her after that, be sure of it. He even hauls her to Paris and angrily demands a dress be chosen and tailored by the end of the week. By the wedding.

Well, anyway it’s all sorta leading up to what was in Honeymoon. Maybe not exactly the same universe but the whole concept and dynamic. Maybe he gets into diplomacy thanks to her father? I never have endings for my stories, only ever beginnings. Anyways. Innocence kink abounds here, lol. Except for the pillow fights, those are legit just fun.

#plots in progress #shopping for a fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis imagine #honeysuckle #interactions #elvis and me #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fan fic #elvis and priscilla #pricilla presley #dollette #coquette aesthetic

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doodles5555 · 21 days

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Mary's Song (Oh my my my)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Adopted Sister!Reader

Summary: This fic will follow the lyrics of the song “Mary’s Song” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: None! A little angst at the end that is unresolved, but since this is just a blip in the character's lives, it will be ok by the beginning of the next chapter.

A/N: Here is some probably necessary information before starting: In this fic, all of our characters are a bit older than in the last one. Timelines and some details may be a bit wonky, but that's ok. I hope you enjoy!

p.s this is not a lyric fic, but instead, a fic that was inspired by the song

Chapter 2:

Sitting on the ground underneath the shade of the biggest tree in your backyard, you are focused on your favorite book, and your brother, Steve, is quietly humming to himself while working on some of his math homework. You can see the tip of his pencil moving around in smooth motions. You look over to the bright paper and see him doodling some pretty flowers on an expanding landscape, and you can imagine them in your mother's garden, the one your father built himself as a gift for your mother's birthday last year.

“That’s very pretty Stevie. You’re so talented, y’know that? I hope you do. One day, I’ll get to see your amazing artwork in a gallery. I just know it,” you ramble out before you even think about it.

You see the corners of his smile tug upwards. You only wish he knew you really meant it. His skill is beyond his years. His teachers often comment about the doodles left on his classwork, about how he should take some art classes, to further his knowledge and skill.

You had overheard your mother and father arguing about saving up some extra money, cutting any extra expenses to pay for any costs regarding the proposed extracurricular. Still, it ended up the same every time – Times were getting tougher, money was harder to come by, and panic was starting to settle like dust in the community. Any leftover profits from previous years were going to support your family. The stock market crashed only a few months ago, and you and Steve were none the wiser to how bad it truly had gotten.

“Maybe one day buttercup,” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease for the commonality of its use, making his words sound sweeter than the undertones. Steve understood that your family was in an unfortunate situation and had grown poorer in the more recent months, noticing smaller dinners on the dining table and less familial outings, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from practicing and utilizing his drawing as a creative outlet. It helped him keep in touch with how he feels.

“Hey, Punk! Buttercup!” Shouting could be heard from the other side of the fence. As you turn toward the sound of the voice, you spot Bucky in the act of climbing over the worn-out fence surrounding your house. As his feet reach the ground, he races over to the shade the tree provides. He plops down at Steve’s feet, his eyes gazing upwards towards the paper in his hands. He snatches it, almost tearing the frail sheet with his tight grip. His blue eyes scan the paper intensely. The wide-eyed expression that lights up his face is priceless.

This wasn’t the first time that Bucky had seen one of Steve’s impressive drawings, but this one seemed to strike a chord in his brain. He just seems to be fascinated by the image.

“Wow, just wow,” Bucky is in awe of the gift that his best friend possesses. “So when will I be seeing this in a museum?” Bucky continues. Steve lets out a small chuckle, the idea absurd in his head.

“As cool as that would be, I already know that will not be my future.” You knew Steve always dreamed of joining the army and battling alongside other determined men and women defending the country, but that fantasy just wasn’t possible in his current state. You would never say anything to crush his persistence since the idea made him so happy, but you would always worry about his safety if he ever went through with it.

“As long as you’re happy, then we will support you, no matter what!” You smile. You meant what you said, and you know Bucky shares the sentiment.

—--

As the sun passes through the sky and falls below the horizon line, you and the boys start running around the yard and playing tag. Steve was huffing and puffing, needing to sit out for a second to avoid an angry asthma attack. You and Bucky had been playfully bickering while the time-out was called on Steve’s behalf.

“I was goin’ to get you, I just know it!” You exclaimed through hard breaths.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you were,” Bucky said with a good-natured eye roll.

Sensing his playful spirit, you sprint towards him intending to knock him to the ground, but you can only slightly shake him off the spot where he stands.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Buttercup!” He tries to grab you from where you are, but you swiftly dodge his hands, barely escaping his grip. You run in towards Steve, trying to hide behind him while he is still recovering. Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt Steve by accident just to get to you, right?

Before you can even test that thought, Bucky manages to get a hold on the back of your shirt, slowing you down just enough for him to be able to strengthen his grasp on you. He throws you over his shoulder, and you shriek in surprise.

“Let me down, you goof!” Giggles are pouring from your mouth as Bucky carries you towards the big oak tree. You start to lightly hit his back as a signal for him to put you down on the solid dirt. As he starts to do so, your unstable legs accidentally make you stumble and start to fall. Unluckily for Bucky, he was still holding on to you, so you end up as a clump of bodies on the ground. You can hear Steve shout from the other side of the yard, most likely asking if you are both okay. You holler a confirmation before assessing the situation you have gotten yourself into.

Bucky adjusts himself so that his body is hovering over yours, his body being propped up above you. You can’t seem to stop staring at his eyes. They have you in some sort of powerful trance; you can’t escape if you try, but you don’t want to stop. Bucky seems to share the sentiment because your eye contact goes unbroken for what feels like minutes. You see Bucky’s mouth start to move, but what he says doesn’t register in your ears. Before you can process what you are about to say, it spills from your parted lips.

“Kiss me,” your words are breathless. Your face surely mirrors Bucky's expression; The shock is evident, but he isn’t off put by the idea. He nods, the motion so small that you barely catch it.

He wants to kiss you. You want to kiss him. This recurring dream is coming to life right before you. This is all you have wanted since you realized your emotions for Bucky are more than platonic. He leans in, now inches from your face.

You freeze.

Every other thought bouncing around seized to a stop at that moment. You start to scramble out of Bucky’s gentle hold, untangling your body as quickly as you possibly can. Your panic is palpable. You hustle to your feet and book it towards Steve. You look over your shoulder to interpret the situation you ran away from. The regret starts to simmer beneath the flush on your skin.

Bucky’s face doesn’t show much emotion, but you can read the disappointment in his body language. His shoulders are slumped and his demeanor is troubled, almost as if he is grieving the loss of your body from under his. You automatically feel like a jerk. In your frenzy, you didn’t even think how Bucky would react to your sudden frantic disinterest in an innocent kiss.

The tears started to well in your eyes. You stammer out an excuse to head back inside the house to the comfort of your room before you let the drops roll down your cheeks.

—--

A few days have come and passed since the “incident” with Bucky, and you have been trying to avoid him. You know he feels whatever it is that is bubbling inside of you, but your embarrassment has stopped you from trying to fix the mess that you created. The consequences of your actions are starting to catch up with you. You are miserable without his companionship. Even Steve has started making comments about Bucky’s sudden absenteeism from your days under the oak tree. You want to mend the tear you created in your friendship, but the uncertainty of how Bucky may react is sending you in the complete opposite direction.

Growing up alongside each other has created a special bond between the two of you. You never had many friends, seemingly always on the outside of everyone in your year at school. You were also not a stranger to rude remarks and getting into fights trying to defend your honor. Everything culminated in your only friends being your brother and his best friend.

Were you lonely at school? Yes, but that didn’t matter because once you reached your front porch, you had everyone you needed at your fingertips.

Now that one of the members of your tiny group was consistently missing, it felt as though a piece of the puzzle was missing, just shy of being complete. You know you need to fix the mess you created, but you are unsure of how to do so.

Oh my my my…

—--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I am a very busy college student, so it may take a while for me to get to writing and posting part 3, but I will do my best for it to come out sooner rather than later. Have a great rest of your day/night!

#fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #x reader #steve x adopted!sister reader #steve rogers x adopted!sister reader #james buchanan barnes #writing

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 years

Text

Age Of Consent [part eight]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1,783

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: This one is short, mainly due to the fact that I had absolutely NO idea where this was headed at any point of writing this. Only two more chapters left! Fun fact, chapter nine was the first part of this story that I wrote. It's all been leading up to the next chapter for me so I am super excited for you to finally read that. Also, just one more time, thank you from the bottom of my heart for following this story.

Read Part Seven || Read Part Nine

Dustin was smitten with himself.

In fact, all of the Hellfire Club sat in a comfortable silence at the lunch table come Monday, sharing knowing glances with each other. Their leader sitting at the helm, unable to keep himself from smiling as he recalled this past weekend. None of them had ever seen Eddie like this, but instead of giving him a hard time or jokingly teasing him, they accepted this new found happiness and let him have it.

On the other hand, you weren't exactly sure what you were feeling.

After spending all of Sunday intertwined with Eddie a realization hit you like a brick on Monday morning when you woke up alone: that it was a mistake, that you weren't thinking clearly due to the alcohol, and that you and Eddie just didn't work. None of those things were true, and deep down you knew that, but you just couldn't admit the fact that you were absolutely terrified of the man.

When you broke up with Eddie at graduation you never moved on. You worked and you had your classes at the community college and you'd hang out at home. Occasionally you'd catch a movie with Steve and his friend Robin, or you'd grab lunch with your coworker, but when it came to dating, you just couldn't find it in yourself to even try with anyone else. You'd meet a customer who would drop a flirty line and you couldn't help but notice how their eyes weren't as pretty, their smile wasn't as perfect, or their voice didn't make you weak at the knees. Or you'd meet someone in one of your classes and you'd have nothing in common; they didn't play D&D, they didn't get your musical reference, or they weren't as creative.

Eddie was your first and only.

Moving on was horrifying.

Going back was even scarier.

You had avoided him and Dustin for a few days, blaming it on being busy with class and work. You even picked up some overtime to cover your ass. When Eddie called the house you'd have Dustin tell him you were studying for some big test. Really, you just needed to figure some things out and give yourself time to think and decide on what you wanted; you couldn't do that and be near him.

"Okay, before you ask me for relationship advice- and, I know that's why you asked me to come over here- just remember that it is your decision what you do with that advice and I will not be held accountable for what happens if you did choose to follow said advice."

Robin sat cross-legged on the floor in the aisle you were currently stocking shelves in. You didn't have many friends and you could not ask Steve for love advice. Sure, you didn't exactly know Robin Buckley that well, but she seemed to be pretty observant and highly intelligent.

"So, it's Eddie, right?" She asked. "He's pretty cool."

"Yeah," you smiled. "He is."

"Before I provide you with what might be very questionable advice, is there a way that you could give me a breakdown of what happened between you for starters?" Robin fiddled with the price stamp that sat in the box at your feet, pressing a sticker to her forehead and laughing.

You hadn't really ever talked about this before.

"Well," you began. "We met in freshman year. I really didn't have any friends, but Eddie just kind of stuck around. He was always helping me and making me laugh. I feel like we were always together, even before he asked me to go steady."

"My dad had just passed," you continued and Robin frowned. "My family was devastated. I mean, my mom didn't stop crying for months. I wanted to tell her about Eddie, I wanted them to meet him, but- Eddie was never the type of guy that I saw myself with, and I was afraid that my mom would think that she needed to be worried about me on top of mourning my father."

"So I never told them. We argued about it all of the time, but we were still inseparable. And when we were in junior year, he- well, we- you know, for the first time." Robin nodded. "We were each other's firsts, and he told me he loved me. The day before my English midterm in senior year, Eddie asked me to go out to the woods and hit a joint with him. I knew he smoked, I even smoked sometimes, but never at school. He begged me to go with him- said that it would help with the stress of the final."

"We got caught. We both got suspended. Of course, he didn't care, he hated school. My life, however, felt like it had been ruined- especially because that type of suspension goes on your record, and well, bye-bye Purdue. I was just so angry, I blamed him for so long and pushed him away when it wasn't even his fault. Then at my graduation, he wasn't there, he didn't watch me walk across the stage. He was smoking pot under the bleachers, and that was it. I just felt like he didn't care about me, or himself, and that he was just going to dig a hole that he wouldn't be able to crawl out of and I couldn't let myself get sucked in."

"Hm," Robin nodded and placed her thumb and index finger under her chin; the bright orange price tag still stuck to her forehead. "And since you've started seeing him again?"

"That was Dustin's doing," you rolled your eyes. "He tried to set us up. Gotta give it to the little shit though, it worked."

"But you're still unsure?"

"I guess- I just, I don't know." You slouched your shoulders and sighed. "I'm sure that I love him, but something is holding me back."

"If Tom Cruise showed up on your door step and asked you out, tonight-"

"That has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but no." You laughed. "Robin, I can't even look at anyone else and not wish that it was him."

"Oh, you are so screwed."

You sighed again, "I am totally screwed."

"There's only one thing to do then," She smirked. "Go get him."

You know what?" You asked, looking up at the clock, noticing that it was twenty minutes til Eddie's lunch block. Immediately, you untied your apron and threw it in the cardboard box at your feet. "You're right. What the hell?"

You yelled at your boss that you would be back and ran to your car, shoving the keys in the ignition and throwing it into reverse. A surprise lunch visit to confess your love in front of everyone? Talk about making him the happiest man alive, he'd absolutely eat it up. Eddie was soft like that.

When you got to the cafeteria of Hawkins High, however, Eddie was nowhere to be found. His favorite part of the day was lunch break, so it was confusing to not see him, especially because you did see his van in the parking lot. You did happen to notice your little brother and Mike, along with some of the other kids you had seen that one time you were at Hellfire.

"Dustin," you asked making your way over to the group.

"Y/N?" Dustin was confused to see you. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Eddie?" You asked, he shrugged.

"He said something about going out to the woods past the football fields." One of the other kids said.

Your stomach dropped and you immediately began regretting coming here. Yet, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, so you made the very familiar walk past the football fields to the small, hidden path into the woods. As your feet carried you towards that secluded clearing, you could hear laughter- no, it was giggling- and it wasn't Eddie. Peering through the trees, you could see what looked like a cheerleader sitting on the top of the table, kicking her legs off of the side.

You took a couple more steps, trying to get a better look, and noticed Eddie. He was smiling wide, pulling at his hair. The girl threw her head back, laughing obnoxiously at something he had just said. Was he flirting?

"Hey," you stepped out of the clearing, bringing their attention to you. Eddie's eye widened, his face turning pale.

The girl was pretty. Pretty young, too. She was dressed in that same pristine white cheerleader's uniform that made you remember every insult one of those pretentious bitches would spit at you daily. She looked at you, her eyebrows pulled in.

"Uh, hi?" Her voice was nasally and you could see the shine in her lipgloss from a distance. "Can we help you?"

"Kelly, you should go." Eddie stated.

Kelly looked between the two of you.

"You heard him." You added.

Without another word, Kelly hopped down off of the table and charged past you- she wouldn't even look you in the eye. You stood there, silently, waiting until she was out of earshot, and stared him down, gritting your teeth.

"I guess it's not good enough for you to sell the drugs to the underage girls, you have to flirt with them too?" You finally said after what felt like hours.

"It's not-" Eddie sighed and took a step toward you. "What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see my boyfriend for lunch," you muttered. "Surprise!" Eddie wasn't sure what to say, he was pretty in shock. "But it looks like you had plenty of company," you continued. "So, I'm going to go. This was a mistake."

"Y/N, wait-"

You tossed your hand up in the air, waving him off, and stomped back through the trees towards the school before he could say anything else. That part of your brain or heart or whatever it was, that was against going back to your ex who you had thought changed but was very much still the stupid kid you met in high school, was screaming profanities at you. How could you possibly think that was a good idea? Cheerleaders? Who was he?

So much for not fucking with him, he was the one who was fucking with you this whole time. You felt stupid and embarrassed and disappointed.

When you got back to work, Robin was still in the same spot much to your surprise. She took on a look at your face and frowned.

"You want to talk about it?" She offered after a few moments.

"Not really," you muttered. "But that was definitely the worst idea I've ever had."

Tags (closed):

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hanzajesthanza · 1 year

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what does dandelion (jaskier) look like in the books?

(jaskier (buttercup) also translated as dandelion, marigold, larkspur, and lovage...)

this post is a third installment in my "witcher character descriptions in the books" series.

physical appearance

physical build

Bounds of Reason, Pt. III: Beside him, a slim man with a fanciful little plum hat pulled down over his eyes, adorned with a silver buckle and a long, twitching heron’s feather, was reclining, gently plucking the strings of a lute.

Eternal Flame, Pt. I: A slim man in a little plum hat with a white feather jumped aside like a scalded cat, and the flowerpot crashed onto the ground just in front of him, shattering into pieces.

Something More, Pt. VIII: He looked down. A slim man in a cherry jerkin and a little hat with an egret’s feather was jumping up and down and waving his arms on an abandoned cart loaded with cages which had been shoved off the highway.

dandelion is slimly built.

a good start to this post would be to remember that n*tflix is only one in a line of adaptations, and it's not the first where jaskier's appearance has not matched that of the books - from an interview in 2001 where sapkowski answered questions from fans, one fan explained all the reasons for why he did not agree with the hexer's casting for jaskier. in his opinion, zbigniew zamachowski was, quote...

Kaszycki Nestor: Next - troubadour, Jaskier - he is pretty, young, popular with women, he is athletic (jumping on the roof in "Blood of Elves" and entering through the window to find Geralt and Shani). And unfortunately Mr. Zamachowski, in my humble opinion, does not have all these features. I know that the film does not have to be a true reflection of the book, but please, have some limits! The stories are really of the best quality, I wish you further successes and I hope that the film will be released soon, staying true to what you really wrote.

sapkowski, of course, replied that it was not his fault because the adaptations are not his to meddle in:

AS: All comments - especially requests - are directed at the wrong address. After all, like all vain artists I consider my work the only creative material. Sapkowski answers the questions of the active users of "Sapkowski Zone" (2001)

the fan is, of course, referring to this scene, which, to his credit, is indicative of a degree of dandelion's athleticism, likely gained over the years from escaping out bedroom windows of his various fiancees when their husbands arrived home:

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: He slipped unseen into the garret, clambered out by the window vent, slid down by way of the gutter onto the roof of the library, and – nearly breaking his leg – jumped across onto the roof of the dissecting theatre. From there he got into the garden adjacent to the wall. Amidst the dense gooseberry bushes he found a hole which he himself had made bigger when a student. Beyond the hole lay the town of Oxenfurt. (...) He merged into the crowd, then quickly sneaked down the backstreets, dodging like a hare chased by hounds. (...) He climbed the ladder to the thatch and leaped onto the roof (...) Gripping the moss-covered roof tiles, he finally arrived at the window of the attic he was aiming for. An oil lamp was burning inside the little room. Perched precariously on the guttering, Dandelion knocked on the lead frames (...)

it's also worth mentioning that dandelion is able to pick up and swing around essi "little eye", who is like a sister to him. she is described as a young woman, not older than eighteen, and very slim.

A Little Sacrifice, Pt. III: "Ech, Puppet." Dandelion seized the girl around the waist, picked her up and spun her around so that her dress billowed around her.

although he does, i won't mention the part where dandelion picks up yennefer because it's spoilers for the very end of the saga and it's insinuated that he had help in doing so... but also for context, yennefer is "short, even in high heels" (the last wish) and "willowy, slender" (a shard of ice) so she, like essi, also likely doesn't weigh too much.

i'll also mention that dandelion sometimes exercises good judgement in quickly dodging or leaping aside when he needs to, but is not prone to bouts of athleticism or agility. he just seems... pretty average.

if you want more specifics, just think of a poet who spends half of his time writing, half of his time in brothels, half of his time in restaurants, and half of his time starving alongside an equally starving witcher. and none of his time at the gym :)

hair and eyes

Eternal Flame, Pt. IV: Tellico straightened up abruptly. His face’s features, still those of the Witcher, blurred and spread out, and his white hair curled and began to darken.

Note: The context for this scene is that Tellico (otherwise known as Dudu), a doppler (also known as mimic - a shapeshifting creature), has taken Geralt's form but is now taking Dandelion's, so the description here is of comparing Geralt's features to Dandelion's. White is the absence of color, so changing it to any color at all would have "darkened" it... though this passage was misleading before Season of Storms (which explicitly calls Dandelion blond) was published in 2013, and led many to believe Dandelion has dark hair.

however, he is also stated to have fair hair on his chin in the story following eternal flame, a little sacrifice:

A Little Sacrifice, Pt. III: The troubadour looked down at the ground and scratched his chin, which was covered in light, soft stubble (jasnym, miękkim zarostem). Drouhard, mouth gaping, moved closer.

i've also seen this translated as "peach fuzz".

and in the mentioned season of storms, he's blond:

Season of Storms, Ch. 4: (...) A dandy in a fanciful hat with an egret feather stuck into it, with shoulder-length blond hair curled with irons.

it's also mentioned in the original saga that his hair is long and curly:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: As for Dandelion the dandy, he had already been mistaken a few times for an elf or half-elf, especially since he had started wearing his hair to his shoulders and occasionally used curling irons.

dandelion has shoulder-length hair blonde hair, which he often curls with irons.

Bounds of Reason, Pt. III: A pair of cheerful cornflower-blue (modre) eyes shone from under the bonnet, now shoved back on his head.

dandelion has blue eyes.

age

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: "I know you’re almost forty, look almost thirty, think you’re just over twenty and act as though you’re barely ten."

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: "You, Dandelion, are still not forty. Writing was drummed into you in the temple-cliff school with a cane in the butt when you were eight. Even if we assume that you have written rhymes ever since, you’ve served your mistress poetry no longer than thirty years."

dandelion is in his mid-to-late 30s during the saga and "looks" to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

and yes, he was at least in his 20s when he met geralt. here's why:

he is already a famous poet during the time in which he first met geralt in edge of the world:

Edge of the World, Pt. I: “Eh, famous witcher? Haven't you wondered why?” “I have, famous poet. And I know why.”

he only became famous after studying for four years, then did a fifth year teaching, and had to gain fame over at least "several" more years of travelling:

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: (...) considering he had studied there [at Oxenfurt] for four years, then had lectured for a year in the Faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry. The post of lecturer had been offered to him when he had passed his final exams with full marks, to the astonishment of professors with whom he had earned the reputation of lazybones, rake and idiot during his studies. Then, when, after several years of roaming around the country with his lute, his fame as a minstrel had spread far and wide, the Academy had taken great pains to have him visit and give guest lectures.

and he only "seriously" began poetry when he was nineteen:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: "(...) But I don’t have to assume, because you yourself have frequently said that you started seriously rhyming and composing melodies when you were nineteen, inspired by the love of Countess de Stael. That makes one less than twenty years of service, Dandelion."

though it's worth noting that shani, a medical student at oxenfurt, is seventeen years old and in her third year, and it's also referenced in other areas of the series that novices at aretuza also begin their schooling around 14 years of age, if dandelion began his schooling at oxenfurt when he was 14, the comment about him seriously beginning poetry at 19 would make no sense because he would have already graduated by then. so perhaps there are different starting ages for girls and boys?

it can be estimated that dandelion started his education at the academy of oxenfurt when he was 18-20 years of age, due to the specific reference that he seriously became involved with lady poetry when he was 19 years old.

i'll say 18, and adding 4 years to this, he would have been 22 when he graduated, and 23 as a lecturer. now let's say "several" is around 3 to 5 years of travelling. he would have been in his mid-to-late 20s by the time he became famous, and in his late 20s by the time he met geralt. (and if you indeed want to have him enrolled in oxenfurt at 14, he would still be in his mid-20s by the time he meets geralt).

"that doesn't make sense because of the amount of time that passed between the short stories and the saga—" and i'm telling you, it doesn't need to. i may write a longer post about dandelion as a litmus test for geralt's character development throughout the series at some time, but the fact of the matter is that sapkowski likely just forgot about dandelion's age being a plausible thing, because it mattered so little in relation to the actually important parts of his character.

clothing

buckle up, buttercup! i've decided to chronologically structure this section of the post because dandelion features a myriad of outfits throughout the saga and he's described as wearing something different almost every time we see him; however, there are also some steadfast articles of clothing of his, which i'll make note of at the end. but these are all the times in which i can remember his outfit being mentioned.

edge of the world, pt. i

They climbed onto the cart. The witcher stretched out comfortably on the straw. Dandelion, evidently afraid of getting his elegant green jerkin (kubrak) dirty, sat on the plank. Nettly clucked his tongue at the horses and the vehicle clattered along the beam-reinforced dyke.

the last wish, pt. vii

“That's all. And now…” Dandelion pulled himself up, brushed his jerkin, adjusted his collar and fancy—if dirty—jabot (żabot). “…perhaps, gentlemen, you'd like to tell me the name of the best tavern in town and where it can be found.”

the voice of reason, pt. 5

A peal of laughter and the strumming of a lute resounded in the corridor and there, on the threshold of the library, stood Dandelion in a lilac jerkin with lace cuffs, his hat askew. The troubadour bowed exaggeratedly at the sight of Nenneke, the heron feather pinned to his hat sweeping the floor.

season of storms, ch. 4

Geralt didn’t know who he [the person who had intervened] was. But he knew perfectly well who the noble-looking man’s companion was. A dandy in a fanciful hat with an egret feather stuck into it, with shoulder-length blond hair curled with irons. Wearing a doublet the colour of red wine and a shirt with a lace ruffle. Along with his ever-present lute and with that ever-present insolent smile on his lips.

bounds of reason, pt. viii

Dandelion tried to trip Gar (, but ineffectively; Gar clung to the bard’s rainbow-hued jerkin (tęczowy kubrak) and thumped him between the eyes with his fist. Yarpen Zigrin, leaping from behind, tripped Dandelion, hitting him behind his knees with the haft of a hatchet.

eternal flame, pt. i, pt. iv

‘You don’t keep up with the fashion,’ the bard grimaced, brushing a chicken feather from his gleaming, cornflower-blue kaftan (chabrowego kaftana) with puffed sleeves and a serrated collar. ‘Oh, I’m glad we’ve met (...)’

‘Phew,’ sighed the bard, springing up, ‘I’ve got it. It’s fine, Geralt, we can go now. Admittedly my cloak with the marten collar is still there, but too bad, let it be my grievance. Knowing her she won’t throw the cloak down.

‘Dudu,’ he said to Dandelion’s strangely deformed cordovan boots sticking out of the rolled-up kilim. ‘Copy Biberveldt, and quickly.’

EDIT: note that the polish word kaftan does not refer to the same garment as it does in english, the long robe-like garment, but rather something like an elongated kubrak, (jerkin), reaching below the waist but coming up to above one's knee, long-sleeved or sleeveless. this was specified by @karanfile 💖 thank you!!

a little sacrifice, pt. ii

They had already sold Geralt’s gold signet for food, and an alexandrite brooch the troubadour had once been given as a souvenir by one of his numerous paramours. Things were tight. But no, the Witcher was not angry with Dandelion.

something more, pt. viii

A slim man in a cherry jerkin and a little hat with an egret’s feather was jumping up and down and waving his arms on an abandoned cart loaded with cages which had been shoved off the highway.

blood of elves ch. 1

He got to his feet, fastened his belt and pulled on his jerkin, all the while looking at the nobleman standing at the threshold.

baptism of fire ch. 2

Dandelion dogged Zoltan's company. He wore a quilted jacket he had acquired from the dwarves, and he had replaced his crumpled feathered hat for a marten fur cap that made him look like a scoundrel. In his wide brass studded belt, he had planted a knife he'd been given as a gift, giving him the look of a true rogue. The knife had a bad habit of pricking him in the groin every time he bent forward. Fortunately, he soon lost the roguish dagger and didn't have another to replace it with.

it's worth mentioning that this outfit is likely what he wears for the next month during his travels with geralt through to tower of the swallow / early october.

baptism of fire ch. 5

dandelion is injured in an escape and has to have his head bandaged.

Geralt took off his jacket and tore off a sleeve. The tip of the arrow had scratched Dandelion’s ear, leaving a cut that reached to his temple.

‘I will give you a few stitches,’ Regis said, still not paying any attention to the witcher or his sword. ‘Be brave, Dandelion.’ Dandelion was brave. ‘I’m finished,’ Regis finished his treatment. ‘Between now and the wedding, as they say, you’ll heal. A wound is perfect for a poet, Dandelion. You will walk as a war hero with a big bandage on his head and the heart of the girls who look at you will melt like wax. Yes, truly a poetic wound. (...)’

baptism of fire ch. 7

Behind Regis and Geralt rode Dandelion on Pegasus with his head bandaged like a war hero. Along the way the poet had composed a heroic song, in which military rhymes and melodies resonated and was reminiscent of their recent adventures.

we don't hear anything about his bandage in tower of the swallow so i assume it healed over the course of the month of september

tower of the swallow ch. 3, 5, 7

in september 1267, dandelion has a leather tube of manuscripts which was the first draft of half a century of poetry.

‘From these notes’ – Dandelion showed them a tube filled with papers – ‘my life’s work will be created. Memoirs under the title Fifty Years of Poetry.’

Dandelion pressed the tube with the manuscripts to his chest. He had not separated from it recently, even for a moment. You could tell that he was struggling with his thoughts. And the thoughts were winning.

‘And just in time!’ Dandelion shouted, coming up together with Angouleme and a small group of pilgrims, lute in one hand and his trusty tube in the other. ‘And not a second too soon. You have a sense of drama, Geralt. You ought to write works for the theatre!’

he loses it in anna henrietta's closet sometime in april 1268 when he cheated on the duchess with baroness nique.

‘Dandelion!’ Geralt had only just noticed what he should have noticed much earlier. ‘Your priceless tube! Your centuries of poetry! The messenger didn’t have them. They were left in Toussaint!’ ‘They were.’ The bard nodded indifferently. ‘In Little Weasel’s wardrobe, under a pile of dresses, knickers and corsets. And may they lie there forever.’

lady of the lake ch. 3

The man who greeted them was Dandelion, coiffured and arrayed like a prince.

lady of the lake ch. 4

He found Dandelion in the knights’ hall. The poet was wearing a crimson beret, as big as a loaf of sourdough rye bread, and a matching doublet richly embroidered with golden thread. He was sitting on a curule seat with his lute in his lap and reacting with careless nods to the compliments of the ladies and courtiers surrounding him.

lady of the lake ch. 11

‘You are free to go, Viscount.’ ‘And my property?’ yelled Dandelion. ‘Eh? You can keep my chattels, copses, forests and castles, but give me back, sod the lot of you, my lute, my horse Pegasus, a hundred and forty talars and eighty halers, my raccoon (szopami) -lined cloak, my ring—’

A ducal messenger caught up with them almost at the very border of Toussaint, from where one could already see Gorgon Mountain. He was pulling behind him a saddled Pegasus and was carrying Dandelion’s lute, cloak and ring. He ignored the question about the one hundred and forty talars and eighty halers. He listened stony-faced to the bard’s request to give the duchess a kiss.

his hat

up until baptism of fire ch. 2 / mid-august of 1267, dandelion wears a plum hat with an egret or heron's feather, a sight which is iconic:

Geralt knew this little hat (kapelusik) and this feather, which were famed from the Buina to the Yaruga, known in manor houses, fortresses, inns, taverns and brothels. Particularly the brothels. ‘Dandelion!’

it's called a "bonnet" in the official english translations, but this is somewhat misleading as it is called "kapelusik" in polish, translating to "little hat" because it's just the diminutive of hat (kapelusz), likely indicating that it's a hat that is not a wide-brimmed hat.

"bonnet" is not completely out of line with the character, because it likely refers to a tudor bonnet (as opposed to, like, a milkmaid's bonnet), and at this point is just a feature of the translation. as you can read above dandelion also wore a large beret in toussaint, which is essentially what a tudor bonnet is without the brim.

in season of storms, it's clarified as to what shape and material dandelion's hat is made of, as geralt compares the hat of frans torquil, a constable of gors velen, to dandelion's:

The constable took off his hat and brushed needles and seeds from it. His headgear was of identical cut to Dandelion’s, only made of poorer quality felt. And instead of an egret’s feather it was decorated with a pheasant’s tail feather.

we can infer from this that dandelion's hat is made of a high-quality felt, and is like a hunter's cap (i've had this reference saved for a while)

though make note that his hat has an egret or a heron's feather:

his lute

dandelion received his lute as an apology from the elf toruviel who broke his previous one. her lute was a work of elven craftsmanship.

Edge of the World, Pt. VIII: “By the gods, Geralt.” Dandelion stopped playing, hugged the lute and touched it with his cheek. “This wood sings on its own! These strings are alive! What wonderful tonality! (...)” (...) laughed Dandilion, carefully turning the delicately engraved lute pegs.

Time of Contempt, Ch. 5: He removed a lute from the saddle’s pommel. It was a unique, magnificent instrument with a slender neck. This was a present from a she-elf, he recalled, stroking the inlaid wood. It might end up returning to the Elder Folk . . . Unless the dryads leave it by my dead body . . .

his horse

he has a horse during the events of the short stories, but during the massacre of cintra and the flight from the jaruga, this horse is stolen:

Something More, Pt. VIII: ‘What are you doing here, Dandelion? How did you get here?’ ‘What am I doing?’ the bard yelled. ‘You want to know? I’m fleeing like everybody else, I was bumping along on that cart all day! Some whoreson stole my horse in the night! Geralt, I beg you, get me out of this hell! (...)’

in blood of elves, he's gotten a new bay gelding, and in time of contempt and baptism of fire it's revealed this horse is named pegasus.

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: Dandelion smacked his lips at his bay gelding and rode on, making his way through the crowds roaming the streets.

Time of Contempt, Ch. 5: The ravine was sombre and damp, and the wet clay and carpet of rotten leaves lying on it muffled the thudding of his dark bay gelding’s hooves. He’d called the horse ‘Pegasus’. Pegasus walked slowly, head hanging down. He was one of those rare specimens of horse who could never care less.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: She [Milva] first recovered Pegasus. The poet’s gelding was ignoring the kicks to the ribs and the cries of the peasant who was riding him. He would not gallop and walked among a birch grove sluggishly, lazy and slow. The peasant was left far behind the rest of the horse thieves. When he heard and saw Milva approaching from behind, he jumped off the horse (...) Milva (...) jumped into the saddle, ringing the lute strings strapped to the saddle. Familiar with the horse, she was able to force the gelding to a gallop. Or rather a sluggish run, which Pegasus considered a gallop.

tl;dr

his physical appearance: blonde, long-haired, curls hair with irons. blue-eyed. slim. looks to be in his late 20s, though he is mid-30s. ever-present insolent smile.

his usual outfits: jerkins and doublets in a vertiable rainbow of colors, including rainbow! his "basics" or undergarments worn underneath include shirts with lace cuffs and ruffles. he also has some jewelry and fur-lined cloaks.

his outfits change during the travels with geralt in august - september of 1267, and during his stay in toussaint in october 1267 - april 1268. see baptism of fire, lady of the lake sections for more.

his hat: plum hat with egret or heron's feather. see section. he doesn't have it after mid-august of 1267.

his lute: elvish. see section.

his horse: a lazy dark bay gelding named 'pegasus'.

#the witcher books #the witcher #dandelion #jaskier #c: dandelion #character descriptions in the books

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor- Chapter Four

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4.3K

Note: I know I said this chapter would link up with the series, but that will be the next chapter now – I didn’t want Tom getting in trouble with the police to be so sudden. I hope you don’t mind! More detailed notes at the end!

August 1939

Monday morning, two days since the dancehall, and the street was alive with activity. Two women were pushing prams along the pavement, a chatter of children following in their wake. Satchels of schoolbooks swung at their sides, and a few of the little boys already looked ready for playtime. Some of the older women were beating rugs over chairs, making the most of the early morning sun, and Dennis Warley had just been by with the morning post.

Outside the Vaughn’s house, Cora was seated on an upturned bucket from the yard, polishing a pair of her father’s shoes. Bess sat on the bottom step, reading her newly delivered fashion magazine. Dot peered over her shoulder.

“That one,” Dot pointed to a buttercup yellow tea dress. “Could you make it for me?”

“I could,” Bess puffed out a stream of cigarette smoke. “If you buy the fabric.” She flipped the page and Dot huffed.

“Do you know how much most girls pay to have dresses made by Bess, Dot?” Cora said, not looking up from her work.

“Not enough,” said Dot.

“Amen.” Bess shut the magazine and handed it to her younger sister. At that moment, Fergal appeared in the doorway, plate of bacon and eggs in hand. He stepped, with socked feet, between his daughters and sat on the step.

“What are you up to today, Bess?” He said through a mouthful of breakfast.

“Going over to Robina Chase’s, that suit of hers is finished.”

“You watch yourself on the roads, my girl.”

“Yes, dadda.”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and a second later, the long legs of Albie Vaughn were stepping over his sisters too. “Double, double, toil and trouble,” he teased. Dot pretended to put a curse on him as he crossed the street and knocked on the Bennett’s door. Bess watched him curiously. He didn’t usually fetch Lois in the mornings.

“There you go, dadda.” Cora passed Fergal his shoes, which he slipped on as he handed his plate to Bess. The Bennett’s door opened, and Albie exited with Tom trailing behind him. Fergal went to join them.

“Dadda said he’d got Tom a shift at the dockyard,” sniffed Dot. “Good to see he’s got him some honest work.” Bess and Cora raised their eyebrows at Dot’s air of superiority and smirked at each other. Just as she looked to the three men, Bess caught Tom’s eye. Her cheeks prickled with anxiety but she didn’t let her nerves show. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to see from his side of the street. Instead, she stared him down. Tom watched her a moment, then smirked. Bastard. Fergal clapped him on the shoulder and the three men began their way to the dockyard.

“See you later, girls!” Fergal and Albie waved behind them. Tom Bennett swaggered forward, staring resolutely ahead.

“Ah, here she is!” Lois appeared at the doorway, tucking a stray curl under her scarf.

“Ready?” She called. Cora and Dot stood.

“We’ll be back around 6, ta-ra!” Cora kissed Bess on the cheek, and she, Lois and Dot made their way to the factory. Up ahead, the men were just rounding the corner, and Bess could have sworn she saw Tom cast a sideways glance in her direction. They hadn’t spoken since Saturday night. Not that the chance had been given; the curtains of his bedroom remained shut and Lois said he was nursing a hangover and an almighty bollocking from Douglas.

“Can’t imagine your dad raising his voice,”

“It’s Tom we’re talking about Bess,”

There hadn’t been a moment to forget about the night either, for the next morning it was all Dot could talk about.

“And then Tom told me to go inside so I went to find Cora and Bess but heard this sound like a gunshot and that black-haired man that Bess had been dancing with was on the floor and then then Tom hit the other two before punching the man-”

“Breathe, Dot,”

“-and I went and got Albie and him and Lois’ fella pulled Tom off them. You’ll never guess what Tom did next, dadda. He spat on him! Tom spat on that poor man!”

When the police arrived at the Bennett’s, searching for Tom, Dot had nearly screamed. Fergal shook his head.

“Can’t the police leave us alone on a Sunday?”

“Don’t think crime has Sundays off, dadda.” Albie said.

That night, when Bess was finishing her final checks of Mrs Chase’s suit and the rest of her family were in bed, she saw Tom climbing the drainpipe outside his and Lois’ room. She had half a mind to go and tell Douglas until she saw Tom shimmy back down the drainpipe and bolt away. Bess wasn’t going to break first. She wasn’t some girl he could charm with a flash of his smile and a quick fumble at the back of the picture house, and if he didn’t know it yet then God help Tom Bennett.

Gravel popped under Bess’ bicycle wheels as she pushed it up the Chase’ drive. Robina Chase was a client of the Manchester atelier. When she discovered that one of the girls who trained there lived nearby, she had ceased her journeys into the city and had Bess attend her personally. She never came to the Vaughns, like most of Bess’ clients. No, each time she insisted that Bess come to her.

Bess looked up at the enormous house. On her street, some families were crammed seven or eight into a two-bedroom house. In their own home, the Vaughn’s had five. Here, it was just Robina and Harry. Still, nothing could make Bess swap their cramped home for the halls of the Chase’s. Each time she stepped through the door a chill descended on her, no matter if it was midwinter or midsummer. The door opened before Bess could reach it.

“I saw you coming.” Robina said curtly. Bess opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs Chase was already walking towards her lounge. The spacious room was the lightest in the house and best, therefore, for Bess to do her work. Someone had brought down a silk screen from Mrs Chase to change behind and when Bess entered the room, this was where she was, clothes laid on a chaise lounge and, stood in her cotton chemise. Everything that Bess used to visit Mrs Chase had to be portable and light enough to strap onto her bicycle, and so, she took out the foldable tailor’s platform that her father had made her and placed it on the ground. Mrs Chase stepped onto it and watched Bess continue unloading her things. She said nothing. When Bess held up the red suit for her to examine, she simply said “Lovely,” and pursed her lips. For half an hour, Bess added the final touches to the suit; taking the hem up a centimetre, adding a little embellished stitching along the collar.

“I’m off to see the boys before I go,” a knock sounded and Harry Chase, with his weary eyes and boyish charm, appeared at the lounge door. “You look lovely, mother. Oh, hello again.”

Robina was waving off his compliment when she stopped. “You know each other?”

“We met at a dance,”

“Mm, well, don’t be home late or drunk. I shan’t wait up.” She turned back to Bess, whom Harry nodded to before leaving. When the front door slammed and the car engine kicked into life, so did Robina Chase. “Harry told me he stopped a fight at the dance on Saturday.”

“That he did,” Bess said, still looking over the garment to make sure everything was in order.

“No doubt over some woman.”

“I don’t know what is was about,” Bess grew quiet, and Robina continued.

“Who was the man? Do you know?”

At this, Bess stilled her work and hesitated. “Tom Bennett, ma’am.” She said quietly.

“Bennett? He’s not related to that Lois girl, is he?” There was a definite air of disdain in Mrs Chase’s voice and Bess fought hard to control herself. We need the money, we need the money, we need her money.

“Her brother, ma’am.”

“Well, with her spending the night in a cell it only makes sense that her brother is the very same. I met that father of theirs, Dougal?”

“Douglas,”

“Quiet as a dormouse and mad as a March-hare. No wonder his children are so wayward. And I can’t imagine living in Longsight helps, amongst all those ruffians. You’d think modern Britain would be rid of slums but here we are.”

Bess wanted to stick her pin in the papery flesh of Mrs Chase’s thigh. She resolved, however, to walk back to her sewing box and place it neatly with its fellows. “All done.”

“It’s lovely, thank you. It was £5 for the remainder, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bess took the cheque from Mrs Chase and began strapping her tools to the bicycle.

“I’ll be in touch soon with some ideas for the spring. A new decade surely brings new fashions.” Her ignorance was astounding. Her son was back from war torn Poland, about to go back, and news of Hitler’s plans for the rest of Europe was spreading like wildfire. Not to mention what she thought of the poor.

“If I may say something, ma’am,” Bess took a shaky breath. She could count the people that scared her on one hand. One was stood in front of her, perfectly manicured fingers waiting to close the door, eyebrow raised in challenge. “I can’t make excuses for Tom’s behaviour, but no-one could ask for a kinder confident or supporter than Lois. And I mean no-one. Rich or poor, kind or cruel, she’ll look after you. And as for Douglas, he is one of the gentlest men I’ve ever known and we’re lucky to have him as our neighbour. Yes, our neighbour. He’s been a great friend to our father.” She swung her leg over her bike as Robina stood a little higher and haughtier. “Make sure to tell your friends the new suit was by a “ruffian” of Longsight. See you in the spring.” She pedalled away before Mrs Chase could raise her snobbish voice in argument.

By the time Bess had cycled the hour from Mrs Chase’s to Longsight, the summer dress she wore was soaked in sweat. Leaving the bike outside, she dumped her tools on the kitchen table and ran upstairs. Stripping down to her underwear, she filled a bowl with cold water, opened the window of her room and let the curtain down. Cora and Dot would thank her when they got back from the sweltering heat of the factory. Grabbing a flannel, she dipped it in the cold water and ran it over her body. Goosebumps rose across Bess’ skin and she sighed. Hair tied in a loose knot, held in place with one of her mother’s silk scarves, Bess held the flannel against her neck. She squeezed it in her palm and let the droplets fall down her back. In the breeze, the net curtain shuddered and brushed against her skin. She looked through the window. Their bedroom faced Lois and Tom’s. As children, Lois, Cora and Dot would wave to each other and commune in their own secret language. When they had gone to sleep, or first thing when they hadn’t woken, Bess and Tom would hold their palms to the windows. They never did anything else, and they certainly didn’t talk about it in the day.

Dressing in a light blouse and yellow skirt of linen, Bess padded barefoot downstairs and opened the front door, before retreating to the kitchen and doing the same to the yard door. Cool air filled the little house. Back in the kitchen, at the foot of the stairs, was the piano. Bess lifted the lid protecting the keys and sat at the stool. A photograph of her great-aunt Iris sat proudly atop the upright. Her face was gentle, white hair pulled back, a shawl draped round her shoulders. The eldest of five, Iris held dreams of becoming a great concert pianist, but her family couldn’t afford to continue her lessons once more children came along. She worked as a parlour maid from fourteen to save her own money and, at seventeen, bought a ticket to London. Feigning sickness, she caught the early train from Manchester and within hours found herself at the steps of the Royal Academy of Music. Iris had written her own application with the help of a kind woman from central library and was invited to audition. She played a programme of Liszt, Chopin and Rachmaninov for the admissions board and had impressed them with her sight-reading skills. She was back in Manchester in time for supper. When a letter bearing the academy’s emblem arrived two weeks later, Iris pocketed it in her apron and ran to the yard to open it. She’d never know such a fleeting whisper of joy as this again, for below her congratulation of acceptance, were the academy’s fees. Iris Vaughn lived the rest of her days teaching, playing piano on Saturdays for the cinema’s afternoon showing.

Bess had no dreams of becoming a concert pianist, but she intended to forge her own path. For herself, and for great-aunt Iris. Kissing her fingers then touching Iris’ photograph, Bess began to play. A few Bach preludes to warm up. Iris loved them. Rigid and mathematical, they were beautiful in their ornamentation and meandering grandeur. As her fingers danced over the keys, she thought about how Bach managed this feat of emotional engineering within such a confined structure. Rigidity, confined structures. Suddenly, Mrs Chase’s pursed lips and flared nostrils entered her mind. The music stopped. Bloody bitch. Bess moved to the jazz standards; My Funny Valentine, One O’Clock Jump, Frenesi, On the Sunny Side of the Street. Surely Mrs Chase hates jazz, it’s something Harry likes.

Bess played for an hour or so, lulling herself into a waking dream. The breeze cooled her calves, the sounds of the piano drifting with it into the street and, occasionally, the peal of a child’s laughter reminded Bess that she was in her family kitchen, not the Ritz. The scent of cigarette smoke from the street beyond gave Bess pause and she grabbed the packet hidden in the cutlery drawer, the packet Cora thought no-one knew about. Cigarette lit, she played a little Joplin in honour of Iris before the sun fell behind a cloud and the breeze turned from calming to crisp. Bess near skipped out of the kitchen and to the front door, such was the affect of an hour’s playing to alleviate her mood, but her steps came to an abrupt halt as she rounded the door into the hallway. A man was sat on the front step, collar up against the chill, a plume of cigarette smoke rising into the early evening sky, the effect making his blond head look alight. He turned slowly round, cigarette held loftily between his thin lips.

“Don’t stop playing on my account,” he grinned.

“You’re back early.” Bess folded her arms and stood firm in the hallway.

“Your dad and Albie have taken an extra shift.” He stretched is arms in an exaggeration of tiredness. “Besides, I don’t think labouring is for me.”

Bess gripped the door. “Right, well, if you could move, you’re letting in a draft.” He did as he was told and stood from the step but as Bess moved to swing shut the door, he placed a boot between it and the frame.

“Bess.” An edge of desperation lined his voice.

“Tom.” Hers was weary.

“Bess. That man was a prick, and if I hadn’t sorted him out some other bloke would have. But,” he placed his palm on the door and pushed it open a little, revealing Bess to him fully. “But I am sorry for what I said to you. You didn’t deserve that.” She scanned his face. The smirk had gone and his usually bright eyes were solemn, but all Bess could to do was nod and rapidly blink back tears. Tom stepped away from the door and allowed her to close it.

I’m not jealous of a bloke who dances with the only girl who doesn’t say no because she doesn’t say anything at all.

Her eyes stung, and she flicked away a tear before it had the chance to fall. Cora and Dot would be back from work soon, and they couldn’t know she’d been crying over Tom Bennett. Even if he had broken her heart a little. All those years she thought Tom hadn’t seen her as a freak or recluse. An oddity worthy of stares and ridicule. With one fell strike, he had proved she was wrong.

The evening passed quickly. In a heavy-hearted haze, Bess made soup and sandwiches for the Vaughn’s supper. Cora and Dot were exhausted when they returned from the factory. A long day in the oppressive heat of the factory had worked up an almighty appetite in both of them, though they could barely lift their spoons. They retreated to the cool of their bedroom at 8.30. Bess sat in the dim of the kitchen, the comfort of her father’s armchair easing her unrest a little. She stood when he and Albie arrived home, but he waved her down, kissed her cheek and took a plate of sandwiches to his room.

“What’s happened, Bess?”

“Hm?” She looked up from her perch by the hearth. Albie stood in the door to the hallway, dishevelled and ready for rest. The middle Vaughn children were closest in age and closest in mind. She didn’t begrudge it of Cora and Dot; Cora had to bear too much responsibility for the family, and Bess would not steal Dot’s youth from her. But she sometimes imagined that she and Albie were connected by an invisible string the others didn’t have. When one felt sad, elated and anything in between, the other felt the tugging of the string that had hooked itself neatly beneath their ribs.

“What’s happened?” Albie repeated.

“Oh nothing,” Bess reached for her book and glass of whisky. “Was over at the Chase’s this afternoon.”

“Ah, say no more,” Albie smiled but his gaze lingered on his sister, and she knew that he didn’t believe her. “Night, Bess.”

“Night, Albie.” She listened as he trudged up the stairs and shut the door to the room he shared with their father. Bess opened her book but instead of reading, stared into the empty room around her. The light outside turned from fuchsia pink to ashen blue and, just as she finished the last sip of her drink, she heard the patter of running footsteps on the street outside. Any moment now, the door would click open, Tom would smile boyishly at her and settle himself on the end of the kitchen table. He always did hang around a little more after they had argued. Bess waited for his shadow at the window. Breath hitched in anticipation, she edged to the hallway and watched the door. Now. The door handle would turn and he’d appear.

The night was quiet. The faintest snuffled snoring from upstairs punctuated Bess’ breathing. The door didn’t open. Bess hurried to the kitchen window and pulled back the netting to see a leg disappear through Tom’s window. He didn’t close it.

Next day, Bess had no clients. After making breakfast for the working members of her family, she cycled to the dockyard. There was something about the hum of industry sidled up to the crashing water, and the canal leading to the sea beyond it, that thrilled Dot. She spied Albie and her father ascending cranes to deliver goods. Sure enough, Tom was not with them. As the sun continued to rise in the sky, the heat along with it, Bess retreated home. Turning into the street, Douglas Bennett passed her on his on cycle and touched a finger to his cap.

“Morning!” She called to him. Leaving her bike where Douglas’ would have been minutes before, Bess rapped on the Bennett’s door. No answer. Lois would, of course, be at work with Cora and Dot. She tested the handle. It opened.

“It’s rude to just walk into someone’s house without being invited.” Tom was slouching down the stairs, pulling a shirt over his head. The pale skin of his abdomen drew Bess’ eye and she blushed a little, looking down so that her hair fell forward to cover her shame.

“You do it often enough at ours.”

By way of an answer, Tom lit two cigarettes and handed one to her. As he did so, she saw the smattering of red cuts across his fingers. They were small, like little paper cuts, and certainly hadn’t been there yesterday. She looked to his other hand. He was covered in them.

“Better get them sorted or they’ll get infected.” Bess nodded to his hand. He merely shrugged, picked some bacon out of the pan Lois had left on the stove and wandered into the sunlit back yard. Bess took the pan from the stove and filled the sink with hot water. Lois, like Cora, needed any help she could get when it came mothering her family. Once the pan was washed, Bess filled a pitcher with warm water. Rooting around in the cupboards, she found a bottle of Douglas’ whisky.

“Sorry, Douglas.” With a clean cloth, bandage, the whisky and pitcher of water, Bess pushed open the yard door with her foot and sat by Tom. His head was leant against the brick of the house, exposing the lean muscle of his neck. The cigarette in his mouth was barely lit, and he pursed his lips to puff it into life. Bess watched the smoke unfurl in the air and caught site of his shadow against the wall. Sharp, harsh and angular. He looked like a Roman statue. Not one of a great emperor, mind. One of those spoilt man-childs that fucked their way around Rome before dying of syphilis. Bess snorted as she sat on the bench beside him. Tom eyed her sideways.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bess took his hand in hers, soaked the cloth in the water and brought it to his knuckles. “So, where were you last night?”

“Met a girl down Belle Vue,” Bess hummed to at least sound interested, but she had no inclination to hear about his conquests. Now his hand was clean, she dabbed a little whisky on the cloth. “Showed her a real ride, if you know what I mean.” His wink turned into a grimace when Bess pressed the alcohol into his cuts. “Steady on.”

“Where did these come from?”

“Got them working down the dockyard,” he sniffed. His nose always wrinkled when he was lying, or annoyed. Bess caught his eye as it darted to the end of the yard. Looking down the little garden, she saw a pile of scrap metal hidden under an old dust sheet. She didn’t let on that she’d seen.

“At least you’ll get no more cuts, now you’ve retired from hard labour.” She took out the bandage and began rolling it around his hand. “What are you gonna do now?”

Tom watched Bess at work. “Ah, you know me. I’ll find my way around.” She hummed and, as she tied the bandage, instinctively brought it to her mouth where she kissed his open palm. Fuck. Bess could feel heat rising up her neck, every muscle tensing. The opposite happened to Tom, who huffed a laugh. They spoke in unison.

“Sorry, I always did it to Dot when she hurt herself.”

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could just ask.”

They froze.

Tom’s bandaged hand closed around Bess’.

Her eyes flickered to the smirk slowly disappearing from Tom’s face. He licked his lips.

“Hiya!”

Just like at the dancehall, Tom dropped Bess’ hand faster than Queenie Warren’s knickers, and knocked on the window that adjoined the yard to the sitting room.

“Out here, Lois!” Tom turned back to the yard. The door leading to the narrow alley behind the house was swinging shut, a flash of copper hair disappearing behind it.

Note: Hello pals! Just a note to say that I (finally) caught Covid, and there has been a huge ecological disaster where I am from. Not being able to go back and help due to having Covid is really hurting and I’m feeling pretty weary. That being said, I am hoping that writing this will keep me going, though if updates take longer that’ll be why.

£5 in 1939 is about £250 in today’s money, and Belle Vue (Tom references it when he’s in the Paris hospital) is an area not far from Longsight that had an amusement park and zoo. The jazz standards that Bess plays on the piano were all released in 1939 or before, have a listen if you’ve never heard them! My great-great aunt Ida (!) was a pianist for silent films and I think that’s just the coolest job ever, she’s the inspiration behind Iris. Shout out to @myfandomprompts for the amazing gif!

I’m not particularly happy with this chapter, I know I said I wanted a slow build but crikey. It’ll pick up in the next few chapters. We all know what’s coming…

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @sophielangdonx

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x reader #the seamstress & the sailor

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nothums-from-tj · 4 months

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Good morning I’m getting back into PPG lately and I can not BELIEVE the lack of Boomercup content. As I’ve said before: if you want content you gotta make it yourself

I present to you headcanons that only this micro fandom will enjoy if anyone’s left/active still at all bc it is. So dead. Dead enough that I’m revealing myself for a ship my followers don’t even care about again. Combining some 2016 canon with the OG bc there are some gems, like Butters being a math genius and how her insecurities were subtly explored more

I’m also considering them like 16 or so here for sake of high school concepts

- they get closer in high school when Boomer’s had enough with being an edgelord and being associated to Him and Mojo so he goes to Butters first since it’s easier to be in the lighter grey area of morality than to try to jump from one extreme to the next (currently have a WIP going on this concept!! “tbmg” tag on my blog or chapter 1)

- he learns a bit of her past with Ace and he’s downright nauseous over what he did to her (“It was years ago. It’s not important now.” “You were five. It doesn’t matter with the whole hero and villain thing—manipulating a child like that is gross. He’s gotta be, what?—10 years older than us?” “Minimum. It’s not like he actually liked me—he just toyed with me.” “That doesn’t make it any better.”)

- Boomer does all the cheesy pet names when they start dating especially bc he knows it bothers her (she likes it a little, not that she’ll ever tell him that)

- Boomer also once started picking up chess or checkers after having enough of his brothers picking on him so he started learning something to be “smart” so he challenged Buttercup to a match assuming she’d be at or around his skill level

- that said, in actuality she started picking it up years ago out of sheer competitiveness with her kind-of-constant sibling feud with Blossom, eventually coming close enough to stump her for a moment or two more often than not just not quite enough to beat her; he learned this the hard way when she beat him so hard at it he sat in stunned silence for 10 minutes trying to figure out what hit him, then demanded to see a match between her and Blossom

- he thinks it’s kind of really funny how much of a sore loser she is and how differently she behaves from when they were kids, so like instead of screaming and yelling and demanding a rematch like when they were young she’d simply flip the table over or chuck the console remote or whatever at the wall and walk away wordlessly to chill out and the suddenness usually makes him laugh really hard once the initial shock wears off

- Butters’ love language is quality time and physical touch, which it takes a few months or so for Boomer to learn when she starts hanging out with him like all the time and play fights him (light punches, kicks his ankle when they’re sitting next to each other, a soft kick to his shin when she scolds him for something, will sneak up behind him to jump on his back just to startle him, etc) and as they become like inseparable the insults are always paired with smirks and shining eyes and so many more excuses for touching and play fighting

- Boomer’s love language is words of affirmation and acts of service which drives Buttercup insane bc she doesn’t know how to handle either of them, words of affirmation are always combated with insults and she’ll dodge them when and where possible bc “how dare he accidentally pick an insecurity of mine to comment on and make me feel like I don’t deserve to downgrade myself like that” so she’ll look away and shoot the insult to not be vulnerable Or something that she does feel good about and be like “duh?????? I know that already” then neither really know what to do from there; acts of service Buttercup will turn into a competition or see as an insult at first as if she can’t do it herself so when they start dating her sisters have to hold her back sometimes to let her bf do something nice for her and she started understanding by then

- Buttercup is the definition of no rizz and it’s so painfully funny for everyone around her

- “Okay, Boomer.” “I hate you.” “No you don’t.” “Yes I do.” “Prove it.” “Are you asking me to fight you?” “Maybe.” = Buttercup, flirting

- as cliché as it is for these two, she does call him Pretty Boy—originally trying to insult him which he never took it as such anyway, then as a nickname/pet name

- Buttercup is very much a morning cuddler and Boomer never wants to let her go when they wake up together

- after 3 months into just their friendship alone there is no longer such a thing as Buttercup’s hoodies and Boomer’s hoodies, it becomes one collection to the point that later on when dating they’d get each other matching hoodies and both would still end up at one place after losing track of who has what

- Brick and Buttercup have the same advanced/honors math class and it drives Blossom insane that her sister and her counterpart are the math geniuses and she’s not; Brick also tries to play wingman for Boomer and Butters after partnering up with her for some project in said math class

- when the other brothers find out Boomer’s trying to change sides and it means having less interaction/association to their dads they also ask Buttercup to “tutor” them and it makes Boomer jealous to no end (she only has eyes for him though)

- he’s always the first person she contacts after a fight with either Butch or Blossom so she can rant and blow up and then, after arguing with Blossom particularly, he’s always the shoulder she cries on and the first hug she looks for

- both have to learn how to communicate openly and set firm boundaries so they both have to ask the other Puffs to help them with it to prevent arguing and Boomer is so much better at it than Buttercup, who will more often than not still get defensive and Boomer has to set that they need to walk away from the situation so they can chill and then talk and she’s always super pouty abt it but still follows through bc she hates fighting with him

I’ll likely add more later Or if anyone else has any to add on please do <3

#boomercup #boomer x buttercup #buttercup x boomer #ppg color crack #tj shares #it hurts me just how dead the tags are #I feel isolated lowkey #they’ve consumed my entire brain and I have a fic going I’ve gotta talk abt them #so I’m doing that here #💥🌼

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 months

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As You Wish, Chapter 2

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

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#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #parent trap au #jake seresin x you #glen powell #as you wish fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader

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xetswan · 6 days

Text

The Hunger Games: Protector; Chapter One, The Reaping

[Information] [One] [Two]

"No! No!!!" A scream emitted in the air, startling me awake. I jumped up but Katniss was already comforting her little sister, Primrose.

"Shh, shh." The older one hugs the girl, stroking her hair. "It's okay, it's okay. You were just dreaming, you were dreaming." She tells her, the blonde begins to sob. I go over to them, joining in comforting her.

"It was me." She cries. Prim has been having these nightmares ever since she turned 12.

Meaning she was now a part of the reaping. Something I never understood could be a thing but of course, it is.

"I know, I know. But it's not. It's your first year Prim, your name's only been in there once. They're not going to pick you. Try to go back to sleep." Katniss tells her, even though she doesn't know that it's kind of true, being picked in your first year is rare. "I can't." She looks up at me frowning.

I kiss her forehead. "Just try, flower." I whispered before glancing over to the brunette who sighs as I lay her back down. Both of us sat in the bed with her.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow," Katniss begins to sing, Prim joins in as I just listen. "A bed of grass, a soft green pillow."

"You remember that song. Okay, you finish it. We gotta go." Katniss kisses her temple just as I had done before her. "Where?" Her voice stops us. "We just have to go, flower." I smile softly. "But we'll be back, I love you."

We grab our jackets, Buttercup hisses at the girl beside me. "I'll still cook you." She threatens the cat. I open the door, trying not to chuckle at her hatred for the poor kitty.

"I will never understand your two's bond." I shake my head, speaking on the quieter side as the village is a little less noisy today. "It's not difficult to understand."

We glance around before going under the District boundary. An electric fence that's barely ever on due to not having much electricity in 12.

Getting deeper into the woods, having to fetch our hunting gear we have to leave out here. Katniss uses a bow and lately she's been teaching me how to use it. I'm better with the traps. Always have been. And with fishing if we ever go to the water it's easy to use an arrow as a spear.

Close contact hunting has always been a specialty of mine compared to a bow and arrow. She gives me the bow and I give her a look, trying to hand it back to her. She stops me with a low smirk on her lips.

"You need the practice, [Name]." Folding her arms, I let out a sigh, snatching the arrows from the ground as she scoffs out a snicker.

This is where we grow quieter than mice. Our footsteps barely crunching below us. Pointing when we hear the slightest noise. After some time we finally spotted a doe. I look over to her and she nods her head doing a motion to use the bow.

I aligned the arrow into the correct position, taking in a deep breath as I pulled it back. Using one eye to track the deer. It was unexpecting, I almost felt bad for wanting to kill her. I ready the shot.

"What are you two gonna do with that when you kill it?" A voice speaks, spooking the doe causing it to run away. Both Katniss and I goran. "Damn you, Gale!" Katniss calls out angrily. He chuckles at us.

"It's not funny." I point at him. "What're you two going to do with a 100 pound deer? It's Reaping Day, the place is crawling with Peacekeepers." He questions our antics.

"We were gonna sell it to some Peacekeepers." Katniss tells him. "Of course you were." He rolls his eyes. I put the bow and arrow into one hand, following beside the two. "Like you don't sell to Peacekeepers." I argue with him. "No! Not today."

"It was the first deer I've seen in a year. [Name] could've gotten it. Now we have nothing." She complains to the taller boy. "Okay." He picks up a rock, throwing it. Scaring off some birds and Katniss hurries me. I pull the bow and arrow out. Shooting one. The two cheer for me since I'm usually horrible at this.

Suddenly a plane flies above us, I grab onto my cousin pushing her to the ground. Gale in front of us.

Once it's out of view we get up, dusting ourselves off.

We went to find the bird I shot, then afterwards we sat on a large rock.

"What if they did? Just one year, what if everyone just stopped watching?" Gale asks us. I play with the grass as we talk. "They won't, Gale." Katniss disagrees.

"What if they did? What if we did?" He glances at me and I shake my head. "It won't happen." My little cousin speaks up once again.

"You root for your favorite, you cry when they get killed. It's sick." He rambles, something we know but understand why he vents about.

The games are sick but have been going for 74 years it's not going to just disappear. "Gale." Katniss and I say at the same time. "If no one watches, then they don't have a game. It's as simple as that." He gestures. Us two hold our amusement.

"What?" He questions us.

"Nothing." "Huh?" We replied to him. "Fine, laugh at me." He huffs out. "We're not laughing at you." She defends us but I shrug my shoulders.

"I kind of was." I chuckle, Gale playfully shoves my arm. "We could do it, you know? Take off. Live in the woods. It's what we do anyway." He grows serious, my face falls. "They'd catch us." Katniss says.

"Maybe not." He argues. "Cut out our tongues or worse. We wouldn't make it five miles."

"No, I'd get five miles. I'd go that way." He points off into the distance. "[Name] and I have Prim and Zay, you have your brothers." She reminds him, I think about putting the little ones in danger and my chest tightens. But the games, the chance of their names being read out loud…

"They can come too." Gale simply says. "Prim in the woods?" Katniss huffs, Gale and I laugh. "Maybe not." He hums.

"I'm never having kids." Katniss sighs, leaning backwards. "Same." I agree, staring up at the sky. "I might. If I didn't live here." Gale tells us.

"But you do live here." She prompts him. "I know but if I didn't. Oh, I forgot." He changes the subject, pulling out a piece of bread.

Splitting it in half for the both of us. "Oh my god! Is this real?" She asks excitedly. As I stare at it in disbelief, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"You're fucking amazing." I told him. "It better be, Cost me a squirrel. Happy Hunger Games."

"And may the odds-" Katniss bites into her bread "Be ever in your favor." I finish for her, taking a bite into mine as well.

"How many times has your names been entered?" She then asks us. I don't like talking about how many times I had to put my name in for the family. Lying about it to my dad and Kat many times.

"Fifty one." I take another bite of the bread. "Forty two, guess the odds aren't exactly in our favor." He nudges me as I frown deeply.

The three of us go back to the village, Katniss and I separating as I go back home to help Clare with prim and Zayden. Kat going to the trade building.

I entered the house, not expecting my father but there he stood, he was in cleaner clothes than usual. As well as Clare, she was already dressed and cleaned up for the Reaping. Primrose along with Zayden came into the front room, pulling me into a hug.

"Let's get you two ready, hm?" I ask them with a toothy smile. Prim was filled with anxiety so all she responds with is a nod. Zayden being only five and not understanding what he was getting ready for he cheers to do so.

He's going to stand with dad due to being younger. I'm glad I won't have to stress over him for more years. Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to volunteer for him if he ever was picked during the draw.

The thought freaking me out I have to physically shake my head for it to go away.

I get the first bath started, Prim getting cleaned up first. Clare picked her dress out, also letting me know that I have one on my bed.

"Thank you, Aunt Clare." I hug her, she only nods forcing a smile before walking away. My father picked up Zayden who was playing with a wooden plane I had carved when I was 12 right before he was born. I had a feeling he was going to be a boy. I argued with my parents all the time.

They believed it was a girl, or that might've been to mess with me. But I knew in my heart I was going to have a little brother and I was right. My mom taught me how to do wood carvings.

Making little animals and objects, she would sell them sometimes, just to earn a little bit more money. Then after she passed it was something to take my mind off the world around me.

"You’re home early." I speak up, picking up the off-white dress my Aunt had given to me. It had tiny flowers around it. It was gorgeous. "We all got sent home early due to the Games." He tells me as he bounces Zay on his hip.

I nod my head, staring at my little brother who was so focused on "flying" his little plane. "You don't have to worry about washing him, he got a bath last night. Hasn't been out much since." He lets me know, playing Zayden back down, grabbing his clothes off the tall dresser.

"Just worry about yourself and little Prim." He says, kneeling down. "Thank you." I give him a small hug. Prim was already out of the bath and dressed. I brush out her hair and then send her off to Clare before I enter the bath next.

The water was cold, so I didn't bother to boil some water. Just wanting to get it over with. My heart quickly beating in my chest practically forced me to be quicker.

I hated bodies of water. I don't know why, I just always had some weird phobia about it. The unknown. What could happen even if it's for a split second. I hated everything about it.

Getting done fast, I dried myself off. Throwing my undergarments on before the dress. I use a towel to hurriedly dry my hair off. I put my hair into two tight dutch braids, a few strands out of place but I didn't care enough to fix it as the pain in my arms was too annoying to continue dealing with.

I walked out of the bathroom, Clare went into the room and fixed up the bath for Katniss. I go to Primrose, grinning at how beautiful she looked.

"Pretty flower, come here." I take her hand, spinning her around. "You look gorgeous, my flower." I kiss her nose making her giggle, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, leaf." She lets out a long breath as she grips onto me. My nickname she gave me is because I started calling her flower, she thought it was dumb at first. So she gave me a "dumb" nickname too. I love it even though she didn't want me to.

I heard the front door open as Prim called out for her mom. But then hearing the door as well. "Aww. Look at you. You look beautiful. Better tuck in that tail, little duck." Katniss pulls her sister towards her, tucking in her shirt that poked out in the back.

"I laid something out for you, too." Clare speaks up to Kat. "Okay." She goes to the bathroom. Getting herself ready.

"Now you three look beautiful." Aunt Clare tells us. "Wish I looked like you." Prim tells her sister. "Aw, no. I wish I looked like you, little duck." Kat tells the little blonde who shyly smiles but the conversation was cut off by the whistle that blows. Time stamping that we need to get moving for the Reaping.

"Hey, you wanna see what I got you today? It's a Mockingjay pin. To protect you. And as long as you have it nothing bad will happen to you. Okay? I promise." Katniss pulls out a little gold pin, trying to calm down the girl.

Zayden gets a little antsy as well.

As we walk outside it's time for me to separate from my dad and Zayden. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.

Like if I didn't grip it, it was going to explode but I took a deep breath in, instead. It was like this every year. This was my second to last year of The Reaping. It wasn't any easier though. I give my last hug to my little brother, giving him back to my dad.

"[Name]." He reaches his arms out still and I kiss his cheek. "I'll see you after, okay?" I tell him, trying to be hopeful.

My dad's eyes were saddened, he observed my every move before I had the courage to actually look at him. "I love you, dad." I hug him, his embrace lingers for a little longer than it should. When another whistle blows and I hear Prim begin to panic, I let him go.

"I love you too, We'll see you after." He nods his head and I do the same, heading over to my younger cousins.

"Shh, shh, Prim. It's okay. It's time to sign in now. Okay, they're gonna prick your finger to take just a little bit of blood." Katniss explains what is about to happen.

"You didn't say-" "I know. It doesn't hurt much. Just a little, right [Name]?" She looks up to me and I nod my head. "Go sit down there with the little kids. I'll find you after, okay?" She assures the youngest girl who nods her head. The Peacemaker calls out to the next girl.

Prim goes up. Katniss and I move into our lines.

Unfortunately having to be away from one another.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games. And, may the odds be ever in your favor." Effie, the woman who has done this for years, her colorful get up almost being a mockery to the colorless aura of District 12. Her candy-like pink hair that's huge and puffy.

"Now, before we begin. We have a very special film. Brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" She grins, clapping her hands before showing off the screen to the right.

It's the same thing every year, I roll my eyes at the sight and the sound of President Snow's voice. "War. Terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained." I shifted in place, listening to this.

"And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. And the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future." The video finally ends, after what feels like an eternity.

"I just love that! Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first." The colorful woman moves over to the large glass bowl of names, drawing the first piece of paper. Moving back to the microphone and opening the paper.

"Primrose Everdeen!" And the world stopped.

My heart dropped and I saw the back of Kat's head. She looked frozen in place. "Where are you dear? Come on up. Well, come on up!"

I see the blonde reluctantly moving towards the stage.

"Prim! Prim!" I hear Katniss but in quickness, not even realizing what I'm doing I grab her.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!" I scream out loud, my voice breaking subtly. Primrose, comes to Katniss and I. They both grip onto me. "I believe we have a volunteer, Mr. Mayor." Effies says in shock, a smile on her face.

"You both need to get out of here. Get out of here!" I tell them. "No!" Prim cries.

"[Name], no, don't do this!" Katniss cries but is separated by the Peacekeepers that grab onto me. "Go find your mom and my dad. Zayden as well!" I ordered them.

"No!" Prim shouts again. "[Name]!" Katniss screams. "Go find them!" I demand. They both scream, no, trying to fight against the peacekeepers.

"I'm sorry!" I tell them. Clare grabs them as I'm ushered to the stage.

"A dramatic turn of events here in District 12. Yes, well, District 12's very first volunteer. Bring her up!" Effie holds a card in her hand as I stand next to her. I force the tears back down. Except one that had already escaped but I didn't wipe it. Standing there in shock. Wanting to throw up the bread I had eaten with Katniss and gale earlier in the day.

"Come on dear. What's your name?" Effie asks me, putting the mic near my face. "[Name] Everdeen." Yes, my mother gave me her last name instead of my father's. She didn't know they were going to end up together as they weren't serious when she fell pregnant.

"Well, I bet my hat those were your sisters, wasn't it?" She proudly states but I shake my head. "Cousins." I sound like I'm out of breath. "Ohh," She sings out. "Let's have a big hand for our very first volunteer, [Name] Everdeen." She claps enthusiastically, but the crowd was quiet, only doing the three finger salute. She awkwardly moves on.

"And now, for the boys."

She pulls a name and comes back to the mic. "Peeta Mellark." She reads out. I spotted the blonde boy from the crowd, recognizing him from when we were children.

When he attempted to convince his father to trade one of my carvings for bread. Getting himself in trouble for insisting, I left the carving of the bear there even though I wasn't given anything. He ended up throwing a slightly burnt loaf towards me in the rain. I was leaned up a tree weak with Katniss in my arms.

I heard how his mother had yelled at him for burning that bread. His gesture was never forgotten. It was a horrible time for my family. My mother had passed and Katniss and Prim's father passed. My father working extra hours in the mines. We weren't even scraping enough to get by.

Just making sure that Prim and Zayden had food and formula. Clare was stuck in place with her depression, going mute and not even taking care of herself.

The same blond boy who saved my family that day walked up onto the stage to enter the Hunger Games with me and I was devastated that it had to be him.

"Here we are, our tributes from District 12. Well come on, you two shake hands." She instructs us. We shake hands, both of our faces drained of color.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

If you want to be in the Taglist for this let me know!!!

Maasterlist

P.M. ML

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hiatuswhore · 1 year

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♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥—ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ sǝuoɹɥ⊥

♕ A/N: Ahhh I always get so happy when I complete these little mini stories because I have a terrible habit of not completing them despite have a full story ready to go. Send me any questions you have! I have already been gathering some of them and I am going to do one large overview and answer them all in a post. That will be posted in a few days. Sorry for the wait I didn’t realize how long it had been this definitely could have been ready days ago. Anyhow here is The Prince and the Street Rat—A Game of Thrones, the final chapter—well more like an epilogue.

♕ SUMMARY: The world works in mysterious ways and so does the residents of Kings Landing. One never knows what they find in the alleyways and rooftops. Whores, drunks, knights, thieves, sometimes even Princes.

♕ WORD COUNT: 2.3K

♕ WARNING: None

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The young Stark walked without words, the taunting words of the Kingslayer still fresh in his mind. His slow gait through the icy corridors muted, offering curt nods to those who pass him. The air somber, the walls knowing. He opens his sister's chamber door without warning, the steel beneath the cloth in his hands nearly weightless.

“Septa Mordane says I have to do it again. My things weren’t properly folded, she says. Who cares how they’re folded. They’re going to get all messed up anyway,” Arya scoffs, throwing a cloak into the wooden case, a deep frown across her features. Jon glances at her white and grey direwolf pacing about, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s good you’ve got help,” He says, his tone low and gruff with a boyish hum, a gentle reminder of his youth. The amusement in his words reaching his sister but likely being lost on a stranger.

“Watch. Nymeria, gloves.” Arya’s frown falls, a smile taking her lips as she squares her shoulders. Nymeria stops in her tracks, taking a seat as she stares with a blank expression. The silence persists for a few seconds before Jon turns back to his sister.

“Impressive,” He says, a smirk ghosting on his lips as Arya tells him to shut up. She tries once more, but Nymeria merely tilts her head. “I have something for you. It has to be packed very carefully.”

“And I you,” Arya says, rushing across the room. She tosses several things onto her bed. A blunted wooden sword, an incomplete knitted cloth with a sloppy direwolf sewn atop, and many parchments. Her grumbles fill the room before a chuckle supplants it before returning before her brother with furs covering her hands. She places it on the bed, nodding toward him, “You go first!”

“Close the door,” Jon instructs, chuckling as Arya practically skips across the room. Her eyes never leave the cloth in his hands. Barring the door, she says no peeking. He removes the fabric, assuring her he will not look as he turns, holding up the dainty steel. Arya beams as she steps forward while Jon removes the sword from its sheath, “This is no toy. Be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

“It’s so skinny,” She takes it from his hand, her eyes traveling up the blade.

“So are you. I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won’t hack a man’s head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you’re quick enough,” Jon says, smiling as she gently waves it in the air. Her eyes locked upon her sword. She says she can be quick. “You’ll have to work at it every day. How does it feel? Do you like the balance?”

“I think so,” She fiddles with the base before looking up at her older brother. The two with the most Stark likeness besides Bran and Rickon. Jon leans down, placing his hand on the side of Arya’s face.

“First lesson,” His eyes lock with her own he speaks as though a sensitive secret sits between them. Small Arya clinging to his every word, so enthralled she fails to notice the smirk that threatens his lips, “Stick them with the pointy end.”

“I know which end to use,” Arya rolls her eyes as Jon hums a softness to him that the gods would soon wipe from the earth. He leans back up, dropping his hand, taking in every little detail of his sister as his future looms beyond the walls.

“I’m going to miss you,” He says, a silence sitting between the two before she steps forward, arms out wide. Jon flinches back, calling out careful as Arya’s sword swings ahead on his right. Arya places it down on her bed, looking up at her brother before jumping up. Her arms around his neck, he holds her from the ground as the two embraces. Jon mutters, “All the best swords have names, you know.”

“Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I’ve got a needle of my own,” She squeezes Jon a second time. Silence takes the room as the two hold each other. Arya pulls back first, Jon gently placing her back on her feet as she announces she must give him his parting gift. She nudges him to the side, removing the furs revealing a book. The cover shows beautiful sketches of dragons above a skillful drawing of Kings Landing. Jon’s eyebrows furrow, his fingers running over the title, Lady Calamity.

“Do not mistake my confusion for lack of appreciation, but why have you gifted me a book of—Targaryen history, I think?” Jon says, flipping open the cover sits a faded sketch. His eyes bounce over the assiduousness of the drawing. Many people appear to scatter around the couple at the center. A Targaryen cradling a bride in his arms, a dying woman.

“When people speak of the Dance of Dragons, we hear the same names and the same stories. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Black Queen. Prince Aegon Targaryen II, the usurper. Prince Aemond One-Eye, and Princess (Y/n) the beloved. The tales never speak the full truth. This Northern Sept dedicated his life to studying this through journals and parchments at the Citadel. Did you know Princess (Y/n) was a bastard from Flea Bottom?” Arya’s eyes shine with excitement as she speaks with nothing but confidence. Jon’s head snaps from the page to his younger sister, who beams at him. “No one can say for certain the relationship between the Princess and Prince Aemond, but there was a parchment from Queen Alicent to her father of an unbecoming friend of the Prince years before the war. The book believes it was the Princess. Some say they were friends and loved each other, and some believe the Prince to have an obsession. The reports are conflicting, but she is known in history as the third person to die in the Dance of Dragons. Hers and Prince Lucerys’ deaths sparked the war. Aemond one-eye torched Riverlands, the people rioted, and the realm became one of violence.”

Jon's eyes flick to the bottom of the drawing, the words staring back at him. The final moments of Princess (Y/n) Targaryen. The bells rang that of the swan song.

“Who killed her?” Jon asks, his eyes flicking back to the dying Princess. The drawing puts more emphasis on their faces rather than the movement around them.

“No one can really say. Many Septs challenge each other’s recounting of this history. At first, the realm blamed the Black Queen for the assassination of their Princess and the butchering of Aegon the Usurper’s eldest son. Sept Umberais debunked this in his research. While officially, the Black Queen and her forces are still credited, Lord Otto Hightower was executed by his grandson for the murder. It was incorrectly reported that Otto was beheaded during the fall of Kings Landing, but Queen Alicent's private journals reveal otherwise. The book goes into far more detail, but I think you should really read it. Sept Umberais found everything he could on the Princess. A bastard who shaped history. I do not wish you to die shaping history, but I do believe you will do great things, brother.” Arya flips the pages of the book, landing on another sketch, one of a statute. “During all of this madness, a statue was made in the Princess’s honor where she was laid to rest. Many believe her place of rest is one of misfortune if not given the proper reverence. I am going to visit it when I arrive at King's landing. Maybe receive a blessing for our family. Even King Robert was too afraid to desecrate it as he did the other Targaryen emblems.”

Arya flips to the final page, her brother’s eyes widening at the sight. The line work reflects an unmatched talent, the detailing almost intimate. Jon frowns, his chest aching as his eyes study your features. He cannot remove his gaze from the soft smile that nearly negates your forlorn eyes, “Princess (Y/n) Targaryen.”

The departure from Winterfell arrives with a heavy fog of naivety. Every Stark oblivious to the storm cloud lingering high above their home. Jon’s face of stone keeps all who travel around him without an inkling of his thoughts. When the opportunities arise, he opens the book, clinging to every word of the limited information on your life.

He cannot explain it, nor can he shake you from his thoughts. Besides his father, Jon cannot find another name that sparks this move in him. The journey to the wall consists of him wondering if you knew when it all began for you—if he will know. Your stories stay close even within Castle Black. It’s nothing like he imagined and everything Tyrion Lannister warned him of. Many nights, tales of your short life make the cold watches warm and the long days tolerable.

Arya’s journey south, her eyes bounce along the tree lines and hillsides. Her curiosity childlike and eager. Sansa rolls her eyes, sitting with perfect composure, a clear divide between the Stark girls. Their days in Kings Landing persistently absent from the others’ company. Arya walks the corridors picturing moments in history she’s read more times than she can recall. She treats the Red Keep more like a museum than a current resident to many, including herself.

“Must you always talk of a dead Targaryen Princess? Do you not fear slighting the King?” Sansa questions. Arya rolls her eyes, telling Sansa of the crown’s respect for the Princess. Septa stops their bickering, commending Arya’s knowledge while scolding her unladylike behavior.

She focuses on her dancing lessons and fails to convince her father to take her to your statue. Lord Stark, only hums, nodding his head to all her reasons but never answering the question. She’s sure it’s merely amusing to him, a laugh threatening him. The days blend into a smokescreen of routine, blinding the Stark girls from how swiftly the walls around them concave.

Arya’s heart hammers through her body with a ferocity that rattles the entirety of her entire body. She steps out into the road, the ding of the bells and chatter of the streets nearly nauseating. The few who pass her move with urgency leaving her in the dark.

“Hey, where’s everyone going? What’s happening?” She calls out. The two little boys who speed past her skid in their tracks, talking over their shoulder with glee.

“They’re taking him to the Sept of Sorrows!” The boy continues rushing up the stairs, Arya’s inquiry of who almost not reaching his ears, “The hand of the king!”

Arya drops the pigeon from her hand, rushing with the rest of the crowd. A few become many, and the back of their heads becomes her main view. The unfamiliar courtyard does little to halt her movements. She steps onto the side of the statute, not sparing it a single glance as her fathers brought out and escorted through the crowd. The mob screams words of malice, waving their weapons, but Lord Stark’s eyes lock with his daughters. In the group, many faces blend, spitting insults. At the pull of guards, Eddard scans the crowd warily. His eyes land on Yoren, bumping into his chest. He yells, “Sorrows. Sorrows!”

The moments fleeting, and the air stale. Silence consumes the crowd as Eddard’s voice booms throughout the courtyard. The gruffness of his tone clear and paced. Despite his lies to appease the few, the public still grumbles with resentment.

“As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. He has confessed his sins before the Sept of Sorrows. He has given reverence to the resting place of a girl given to this world by the Gods. She is a reminder of the poison in treachery but also the failures of acting without mercy. What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?” Arya frowns. She cannot grasp why this occurs here and now. The Queen mother shifts uneasily as the young King grins like a madman. It’s all so wrong.

“My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night’s Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father. So I bring you all here today. A sad day for a very sad excuse for a man. In this place lies dead a woman who could not be protected by her husband nor her King! Today I mark a new beginning, a King who will protect those deserving, one where no treason shall ever go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!” Joffrey’s words fill the ample space, following a roar of excitement like no other. The cries of Sansa and the pleas of Cersei falling on deaf ears as Arya’s eyes sweep the crowd in disbelief. Arya climbs off the statute navigating the crowd with quick feet, her tiny stature bobbing and weaving without pause. It becomes less dodging and more pushing as her throat and eyes burn ceaselessly. A hand wrapping around her wrists, jerking her back, forces a gasp from her lips. Arya squirms to no avail, her father getting further and further away as her vision blurs and refocuses.

“Let me go!” She screams, blocking her view from the front. He forces her head toward the statue. Her struggles do nothing against his rigid grip. The indiscernible chatter of the crowd and Sansa’s screams fill the air. It lasts for seconds before a swift silence sweeps the crowd, and everything stills. Arya grows as straight as a pencil. She stops fighting Yoren’s hold her stare shape. The lump in her throat nearly suffocates as everything numbs. A part of her wants to laugh at what captures her eyes, a sick irony—a cruel one. The blue sapphire gem sparkling and vibrant, unlike the bleak air that lingers.

Princess (Y/n) Targaryen Rivers

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glapplebloom · 2 months

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I do wonder how I would write a Death Battle script. (No images in this one)

Wiz: Sugar. Spice. And everything nice. These were the ingredients to create the perfect little girl.

Boomstick: But Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction... A can of Whoopass!

Wiz: No, it’s called Chemical X.

Boomstick: It might as well be whoopass! Anyone who takes a swig of the stuff gains superpowers.

Wiz: And it was no different here, as after his Monkey Assistant knocked the Professor into the Chemical X...

Wiz: The Powerpuff Girls were born!

Boomstick: Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup. Despite being a bunch of ankle biter they really live up to their original names: The Whoopass Girls!

Wiz: Indeed, for they’re the sole reason Townsville maintains a crime rate percentage ratio of point zero-zero-three over zero. That’s a ridiculous number.

Boomstick: And it's not just your run of the mill bank robbers or muggers. They deal with Giant Monsters, Evil Monkey Geniuses, my second cousin twice removed, and even the Devil himself!

Wiz: But it wasn’t always easy for them. Like any child, they were still learning about the world they were living in and the social norms to follow.

Boomstick: And like every newborn, they cause a lot of trouble for you and the people around you.

Wiz: Not to this extreme. In a simple game of tag, they basically destroyed Townsville easier than any criminal before it.

Boomstick: They eventually figured out that kicking major butt is the solution to help them fit in and now whenever the Mayor needs anything from saving the city to opening a jar of pickles, he just gives the girls a ring and they’ll be on their way.

Wiz: They accomplish this by using their various super powers. Like early Superman they have your usual Super Powers like flight, super strength and speed and even laser eyes...

Boomstick: But they also have some freaky one shot powers like setting themselves on fire, creating shadow clones, or turning themselves into a puddle of water. Heck, when they got older they got Green Lantern Powers!

Wiz: While they are virtually identical in stats, they each have their uniqueness. Blossom, for example, has superior intelligence compared to her sisters as well as an exclusive Ice Breath.

Boomstick: Buttercup is a lot more butt kicking than her sisters, but her exclusive power is curling her tongue. I can do that. Look.

Wiz: That’s not even close.

Boomstick: Bubbles is definitely the sweetest of the girls, but if pushed too far she would go into Hardcore mode. And she’s definitely scary when that happens.

Wiz: What I find impressive about her unique power is her ability to understand language. Originally, it was just Spanish but as she got better she could understand any language. This includes squirrels and even computer language. She was a programming wizard by the time she was in grade school.

Boomstick: How long were you in college to do all that?

Wiz: Don’t remind me.

Wiz: Despite these differences, and occasional squabbles, the Powerpuff Girls show why they’re one of the greatest heroes in Townsville.

Boomstick: Together, they can create the Furious Fiery Feline, the Razzle Dazzle, the Cherry Bomb, and even with their 4th Sister create a Giant Fusion of them all.

Wiz: Fun fact, the original concept for Dynamo was the three girls fusing into one.

Boomstick: And these girls are fast. In a race, Bubbles was facing this Quicksilver knock off and he can circle the world in seven seconds. Not knowing what the goal was, she was keeping pace easily. But when she found out she had to beat him, she reached the finish line two seconds ahead of him. Imagine how fast she would have gone if she actually tried.

Wiz: No need to. They can travel from the Earth to the Sun in a short amount of time and from an Asteroid Belt in space to earth within a second. The shortest distance between Earth and the closest edge of an Asteroid Belt is said to be 1.2 AUs, or 179.5 million km. To travel that fast in such a short time would be almost 600 times the speed of light.

{NOTE: I specifically got 598.74755 c, so a second look at the math would be required if I did something wrong}

Boomstick: Wow! No wonder they can move so fast they can travel through time.

Wiz: They also have strength to match. They’re strong enough to destroy asteroids, nullify a solar flare...

Boomstick: And even lift a really muscular man, while he’s lifting a mountain!

Wiz: They’re also comparable to the likes of HIM, who is capable of casually stopping the planet from heading towards the sun with ease and caused the solar system to go out of whack.

Boomstick: Perfect Little Girls? More like Miniature Supermen! What can stop these little bugged eyed freaks?

Wiz: Few things. Antidote X will negate their powers, but not destroy them despite being made of Chemical X. Fly Paper for some odd reason. And surprisingly they can still get sunburned.

Boomstick: Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

Wiz: Regardless, as long as the three work together, Townsville can rest knowing that the city will be saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls.

#research bin

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 years

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Age Of Consent [part ten]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 845

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for loving this series and enjoying it about as much as I enjoyed writing it. Eddie makes it so easy. I can't believe it's officially over. Second, I am working on some other one-shots and currently drafting another series- but, I won't be posting that series until after July 1. That is because I don't want to start something and then not finish it because of events that may or may not happen in the finale.

Read Part Nine

"Are you nervous?" Dustin asked as you sprinkled a little extra spice into your mother's otherwise bland macaroni and cheese. You shrugged your shoulders and tasted the cheesy mixture, perfect.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and you had invited both Eddie and his uncle Wayne to your house for dinner. Dustin took it upon himself to also invite someone, Steve, after finding out that his parents went out of town and left him to watch the house.

"No," your little brother actually looked surprised at your response.

"No?" He asked, needing a little more clarification.

"She's going to love him," you returned with a smile. "Just like you and I do." You pulled the macaroni off of the stove and carried it over to the table to place it amongst the spread that you and your mother had worked so hard on. "And if he were here, I know Dad would have loved him, too."

"Yeah," Dustin looked down at the ground. "He would have."

"Hey," you placed a hand on his shoulder right as the doorbell rang. "He'll always be here with us, okay? You want to get the door or should I?"

"I'll get it!" You heard your mother say from the living room.

You and Dustin shared a wide-eyed look and you watched your mother waddle over to the front door. She opened it to reveal Eddie and Wayne standing on the front porch; Wayne was holding a store-bought cake in his hands and Eddie had a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, hello!" She beamed taking them both in, holding our her hand to Eddie. "You must be Eddie, Y/N has told me so much about you."

"Yes ma'am, hopefully, she told you the good things." He stepped into your foyer and took her hand in his, placing a small kiss on her knuckles. You could see your mother blushing from the other room. "Mrs. Henderson, this is my uncle Wayne."

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Wayne also said, stepping in through the door. "Thank you for having us."

"Oh, it's a pleasure to have you both! Thank you for joining us! Please come on inside and make yourselves home!" She said merrily. "Is that Strawberry Shortcake?" Your mom asked glancing down at the cake in Wayne's hands. "How'd you know that was my favorite?"

Your mother and Wayne became engrossed in conversation, and you heard her mention something about how she was relieved to have another adult around and you rolled your eyes. You smiled at Eddie as he made his way through the living room over to you. He was beaming from ear to ear, unable to contain the absolute happiness that he was feeling at this very moment.

"These are for you, my girl." He held out the bouquet of flowers to you and you bit down on your lips to try and contain your own smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dustin sticking his finger in his mouth and faking a gag. "Oh, don't even you twerp. You did this."

"Starting to regret it," he said as he plopped down on the couch.

You made your way into the kitchen with Eddie following close behind you. "I love you, thank you for coming," you said softly as you grabbed a vase for the flowers. "These are beautiful."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed his chin on the top of your head. "You're beautiful," he said quietly into your hair. "Thank you for making me the happiest guy alive. You don't know how much I love you."

"I think I have an idea," you replied as you turned around to face him with a sly smile.

"Do you think she likes me?" He asked, eyes trailing over to your mother who was in deep conversation with Wayne.

"Did you not see her face turn as red as a tomato when you kissed her hand?" You asked laughing.

"Like mother like daughter," Eddie chimed, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles as well. You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on his face, pulling him down for an actual kiss.

The doorbell rang and Eddie's brows came together in confusion. "It's Steve," you mentioned.

"Harrington?"

You nodded.

"Thank God you're here," You heard Dustin say from the living room. "Y/N and Eddie have been making out for the last twenty minutes and I hate suffering alone."

"That's gross," Steve's voice replied. "I brought Robin because I, too, hate suffering alone."

"We can eat now, everyone," Dustin announced as he stepped into the kitchen.

Steve and Robin were close behind him. While Steve looked as anxious as ever, Robin, as always, looked excited and ready to talk the ear off of anyone who was willing to listen. They both gave a small wave over to you and Eddie as they too stepped into the kitchen.

"This is going to be fun!" You said excitedly before dragging Eddie over to the table and taking your seats.

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