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sweet-villain · 2 years

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Wishing~ Eddie Munson

harrys-tittie asked:

If you’re possibly taking requests I have one since you like making everyone cry 😒 lol! I was thinking reader and Eddie based on the song heather by Conan Gray, heather being Chrissy. Maybe a happy ending part two of it fits somehow so we aren’t all dead inside. Anyway love your work. If you aren’t taking request no biggie :) I was thinking about this and it made me wanna come to you.

Angst

m-rae23 ~ palomam18 ~eddiesprincess86 ~figmentofquinn ~gloomybrieyxb ~hqtetsurou ~ theintimatewriter

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater

You had been best friend with Eddie since you began high school, he took notice of you when you walked into the classroom he had with you wearing a Metallica shirt with a skirt and he couldn't stop staring at the necklace you were wearing. It was a guitar pick. A green one.

He stared in awe as you sat in front of him. His nose picked up your scent and something sweet added to it. He tapped your shoulder with the pen in his hand. He had his notebook out making drawings on it before he saw you.

" Nice shirt" he says, " I love Metallica" you nod eyeing him, a small smile on your face. You liked the way his mane of curls surrounded his face, you noticed the way his brown doe eyes shined, you noticed the dimples near his smile and you noticed his fingers on one hand had rings and only one on the other.

" It's rude to stare, you know?" he asks, a small smirk on his face.

" Just admiring" you say, his smile drops as his mouth forms in an "o" not expecting that. A hint of red flashes across his cheeks as he sinks into his seat, biting on the cap of the pen.

" Cute" you say turning back to pay attention, at least try to knowing that the cute metal head behind you couldn't stop blushing in his seat at you words.

Your friendship with Eddie blossomed as you two spend every other day, hanging out. If he wasn't at Hellfire or practice, he was with you. You two had movies night, you had met Wayne, he was shocked that Eddie brought a girl over and you had even stayed some nights. You had cooked for both of them telling them they needed to eat real food.

A piece of clothing was thrown at you catching you off guard as you were in your head thinking about the first time you met Eddie. Your hand reached out to remove the piece of clothing from your head, it was a hoodie. Not something you see in Eddie Munson's drawers or closet.

" What's this?" you asked, raising your eyebrow at him.

" You are freezing, Dot. I can see you shivering" Dot, that was your nickname from him. He found you adorable and small, it stuck with him and you liked it.

You inspected the hoodie he had thrown at you with a Black Sabbath on the front and it was plain black. But what you loved most about it was it smelled like him.

He was too busy into strumming Sweetheart when you raised the hoodie up to your nose and took a sniff. It smelled good, smelt like him and you threw it over the shirt you were wearing, removing your hair from inside as it got stuck.

It fit you perfectly. You slide your hands into the pockets turning your head just in time to catch his eyes, he was already looking at you with that look on his face. The look of adoration.

You said it looked better on me than it did you

" You can keep it. You look better than I do in it, hope it keeps you warm" he shoots you the dimple popping smile as he sets Sweetheart down.

" You hungry?" he asks standing up as he stretched. Your eyes looked over to the skin that said hello as his shirt lifted up. You wondered how soft his skin is underneath your fingertips.

" I could eat" you nod standing up.

Only if you knew how much I liked you

" Burgers and Milkshakes?" He asks, turning to look at you. " You read my mind" He grins as he puts on his jacket combo with the vest and grabbed his keys. You followed him out to the van and hopped into the passenger side.

You watched as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel hearing the music booming through the stereo when he started the van. He was singing along with the words to the song but you can only focus on how pretty he looked at the moment. He always looked pretty but something about the way he was headbanging his head and little dancing in his seat that he was doing, made your heart flutter.

If only he knew how much he meant to you, how much you liked him and how he made you happy. If only.

But I watch your eyes as she

Everything stopped as soon as she came into the picture. Eddie would watch her with heart eyes with a dreamy smile on his face as Chrissy Cunnighman walked past him. She was a cheerleader in school and she was pretty. You frowned looking at him seeing the way way with just one glance at him, he swooned for her.

You felt like a knife dug into your heart creating a hole there. He would never look at you like the way he looks at her. She had the looks, she was popular and she had Eddie's attention.

Walks by

" Isn't she so pretty?" Eddie gushed watching Chrissy talk with her friends, giggling by the lockers. Dustin and Mike stood with you by Eddie, sending you an apologetic look on their faces. They were fully aware how you felt about their Dungeon Master.

You shrugged looking down at your converse as if they were the only thing that were more fascinating.

" How about Y/N?" Dustin asks, Eddie looks over to him with his eyebrows scrunched up. " What do you mean " What about Y/N?" Henderson?"

" Y/N is pretty too" you sent Dustin a small smile. Eddie nodded but shrugged, " Yeah but look at Chrissy" he puts a hand on his heart as he backs into the locker room, " She's such a beauty."

You felt tears trying to escape, you looked away as you said, " I need to talk to Robin about something. See you" you stormed past them and Chrissy, who sends you a smile which you don't return.

What a sight for sore eyes

" Can I talk to you, Eddie?" Chrissy stood near Eddie at the head of Hellfire table. Eddie's eyes got wide hearing her voice asking for him. You stabbed the food in your tray as you didn't dare to look over at him to see the way he swallowed, the way his eyes rose to look at her and grabbed his lunch box as he followed her.

You threw the fork you had in your hand onto the tray with a sigh.

" I'm so sorry Y/N" Gareth said, offering you a thin smile more like a sympathetic smile. Dustin stood up from his chair as he made his way around the table putting his arms around you as you lean into him, tears running down your cheeks.

Brighter than the blue sky

It was always Chrissy this. Chrissy that. Chrissy was this. Chrissy did that. Your hand clenched hearing him talk about her like she was the list of his life.

You had came over for movie night but Eddie had told you that Chrissy was here, and he showed her Sweetheart. He showed her Sweetheart. You hadn't been shown Sweetheart that quickly as he shown Chrissy. It angered you how she was getting the special treatment while you were there like some type of meat that he kept around for good use.

She's got you mesmerized while I die

" I'm going to ask Chrissy out, should I?" He asks throwing popcorn into his mouth, missing a few as they landed by near him on the couch. He attempts to find them as he waits for your answer. You bite your bottom lip feeling your heart sink. He wanted her. He didn't want you. He wanted her. He didn't want you. He doesn't look at you like that. He looks at her.

" Yeah, do it" you nod looking at the movie that was playing. Not really paying attention to it rather be in your thoughts and swallow the tears that were asking to come out. You cleared your throat.

" You okay?" he asks, shaking the bowl of popcorn for you to take. You reach in and grab a few stuffing them into your mouth as your eyes are glued to the movie.

" Yeah"

The thing that hurt you the most is that he stopped calling you Dot. That was your nickname he given you and he hasn't used it in awhile. Not since Chrissy came into the picture.

Why would you ever kiss me?

You would watch as they held hands walking in the hallways. He would walk her to class. He would hold her books. He would kiss her cheek making her giggle. You watch from a far as they didn't care about the looks from the other students, the scoff from Jason as he watched. He couldn't believe the freak of Hawkins High got Chrissy Cunningham.

You looked down at yourself and looked at Chrissy. You were nothing like her, your hair wasn't usually up. Your hair nicely flowed down past your shoulders. You wore band shirts, shorts or skirts or skinny jeans with pair of converse on your feet. You were part of Hellfire, you played guitar, you were a book worm, you studied, you had everything except Eddie. The person you fell for thinking he was your person.

I'm not even half as pretty

You weren't into sports or cheerleading. Your dream was to play guitar around the world, showing how skillful you were on a guitar. You got lost in your music and it helped. Eddie and you talked about touring one day, together that when Corroded Coffin got famous, he'd bring you on stage and the two of you would show the world how it is done.

" Do you think I'm pretty?" you ask Robin one day, walking into Family Video. Steve even turned around at the question why all of sudden you were asking this. Robin paused what she was doing as she made her way around the counter.

" Of course you're pretty. Why are you asking this?" you shrugged looking down at your fingers, twirling one of the rings on your finger. It was silver with your favorite color of stone in it.

" Did someone say something? I'll sucker punch them so hard-" Steve gets up from his seat by the computer as he raises his fists like he's ready to fight.

" Calm down, Macho man over there" Robin says to Steve. Then she turns to you, " What brought this one?"

" Just seeing Chrissy and Eddie...I don't know" you shrug again, hanging your head.

" Oh that dingus hasn't come to his senses yet?" your eyebrows knit together throwing her a confused look on your face. She sighs.

" He likes you too, you know?"

" What? No! He's dating Chrissy, she is way prettier than I am" Steve shakes his head.

" She's not, her pom pom's are nothing compared to your guitar skills" Steve nods. " I've seen the way you shred, you're amazing. I don't wanna hear you call yourself " not pretty". You're beautiful"

" Thank you Harrington" He sends you a smile as he turns back to the computer.

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

" Do you have my flannel by any chance?" Eddie asks as soon as he crawled inside your window, accidentally stepping on some papers that you threw on the floor.

" Why would I have your flannel?" you asked, from where you were sitting on the bed doing some homework. He plops besides you on the bed taking your notebook from your hands as he looks at it.

" History. Yuck" he scrunches up his face as he drops the notebook back on the bed. He looks around the room spotting your guitar where it usually is, he noticed you added stickers to it.

" I like the stickers" he motions to the guitar. You nod, " it needed a bit of a more welcoming look to it." You stood up from the bed and made your way to the drawer which had that flannel he was looking for.

He left it here when he slept over, he had forgotten and you never gave it back to him because you kept it to help you sleep at night.

" You left it here" you threw the flannel into his chest sitting back on the bed as you continued to do your homework. The energy between you and Eddie wasn't the same anymore.

But you like her better

It's like the best friends were just turned into friends. It hurt a lot but you don't show it. He was never going to choose you. You were just a friend as much as it hurts to say.

" You should hang out with Chrissy, you two would get along" he tells you shifting in his seat as he watches you work on your homework.

" I don't really think that's a good idea" his face drops as hears what you said. You didn't want to hang out with Chrissy? Did something happened?

" Why not?"

" I'm just not in a good place right now, Eddie" you weren't lying to him about that. You were too much in your head thinking about him and hurting yourself, you wished you were Chrissy. You wished you were good enough for him.

Wish I were Heather

" I don't understand why you wouldn't want to be friends with Chrissy? She's a sweet girl, maybe you two can go shopping together to get new clothes or something" Eddie says as he lights up a cigarette as he stands besides you, outside his trailer.

" What's wrong with the clothes I wear?" you glanced down at you Van Halen shirt and your ripped jeans with your boots that had red laces on them.

" Nothing, just need an upgrade. That shirt is losing color" he says as he looks over to you then at the shirt, shrugs like it wasn't a big deal. This shirt specifically was special to you. Your dad gave it to you on your birthday, it was one of the last things he gave you before he passed away. Eddie knew this and yet he was standing there telling you that you needed to dress better.

Fuck Eddie Munson

Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

You sat in your car gripping the steering wheel as you gazed at the scene not too far ahead of you. Eddie was leaning against his van while Chrissy had her hands on his vest as he looks down at her, the two were talking but your heart broke even more when he took her hand in his and laced his fingers through his.

You grumbled underneath your breath as you got out of your car, taking your backpack in a fist heading towards the school.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him put his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer as he kissed her. Right when you walked past. It hurt a lot.

Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

" Y/N! Wait up!" you heard from behind you. Eddie had pulled away from Chrissy as he sees the back of your head and his eyes fall onto Dustin who runs up to you, with a worry look on his face.

" You didn't come to dinner yesterday, my mom invited you over but you didn't come" you closed your eyes, face palming yourself in the head. You forgot all about the dinner.

" I'm so sorry, Henderson. I had a lot on my plate and I just wasn't feeling my best. Tell your mom, I'll make it up to you and her" he nods, sadly.

" You know you can talk to me Y/N" he says. You nodded. Dustin eyed the couple behind you, locking eyes with Eddie and he looks back at you sending you sympathetic smile. He had put two and two together, and pulls you into a hug.

Eddie watches with concern in his eyes as Dustin hugs you. You don't dare to even look at him. Not once.

" I'll see you at lunch" he hears you mutter to Dustin. You pull away from Dustin and continued to walk to class. Dustin glances at Eddie, shaking his head at him and Eddie watches with confusion on what that meant.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel

You didn't hate Chrissy, not at all. She was a total sweetheart. Everything was perfect in her life.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to jump in your seat. You took off the headphones from your head as you turn around to see it was Chrissy that wanted your attention.

She took the seat in front of you, looking down at her hands and looking at the nail polish on her nails. She bite her bottom lip knowing she gotten your attention now. You rose your eyebrow waiting for her to talk.

" Do you hate me?" she asks.

You sighed, closing your textbook knowing you wouldn't get anymore studying done.

" I don't" you answer her. It was the truth. You didn't hate her. She just had Eddie. She nods as she looks around the library not knowing what to say.

" Look Chrissy, I'm happy for you and Eddie. I am. But there are some things you don't understand, I rather not talk to you about them. I don't hate you, not at all. I can never hate anyone, I'm just struggling.."

She nods but her eyebrows are knitted together as if she was looking for something. But you shield your eyes from her as you look down at the table. Your eyes told anyone, anything.

" I need to get home"

But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she

Chrissy had Eddie. She was pretty. She is a cheerleader. She had it all. You didn't. You didn't have Eddie. You were't pretty enough for anyone. You loved reading books. You loved drawing. You weren't into sports. You lived with your mother who you barely saw. You felt alone and unwanted.

It was a cruel thing to say but you wished that Chrissy wasn't part of Eddie's life. That she didn't exit, then maybe you stood a chance.

You turn to your side clutching the pillow to your chest as silent tears fell down your cheeks. You didn't really want to have these feelings for your best friend. But you did and it sucked.

Walks by What a sight for sore eyes

" You can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N" Gareth said as he stood next to you at the Hideout by the bar.

" Doing what?" you twirled the cup in your hands around on the bar. You came to have a few drinks at the bar, forgetting that Corroded Coffin was playing and Chrissy was here too.

" Drowning yourself like this. He is a closed chapter Y/N and you deserve better"

" I don't want better" you lifted your drink up to your lips to take a drink when Gareth took it out of your hands.

" What the hell! Give it back!" Gareth shook his head as he held it out stretch. The noise caused Eddie to come from the back and he stopped in his tracks seeing you chatting with Gareth, attempting to get your drink back.

Something in Eddie caused him to let out a growl as he stomped up to Gareth taking your drink from his hand and placing it on the bar. He took a hold of Gareth by his ear, tugging him and away from you.

You didn't bother to shout a thank you to Eddie turning back in your seat looking at the bottles on the bar.

" Are you hear to listen to Corroded Coffin, too?" A sweet voice spoke up as she sat next to you. You didn't need to turn your head to know who it was.

" No, I'm here to take my mind off with a drink" you tell her. Chrissy frowns and looks at Eddie as he locks eyes with her, he sends her a wink but his face drops seeing the back of your back. You used to love watching him play at the Hide Out. Now all he saw was the back of your back and it hurt.

Brighter than the blue sky She's got you mesmerized while I die

Eddie's eyes were on your back and then on Chrissy as he looked back and forth. He hoped that you would turn around, head bang to the music but you sat there drinking the things that occupied your mind.

As the set came closer to the end, Eddie took a few minutes to look at his guitar in his hands as he was playing and then when he turned back, you were no longer sitting there. The drink was empty and there was money on the bar.

But Chrissy sat there, smiling at him.

His eyes roam the Hide Out catching you as you made your way to the door. You took a moment to stop and turn your head to look over your shoulder catching your eyes with him, that's when he saw the tears shedding down your cheeks and his face fell wanting to run to you.

But he doesn't as if something is holding him back. He looks back at Chrissy who is waving at him having no clue how his heart is hurting seeing that you were distancing yourself, you weren't his best friend anymore.

Things were changing and he didn't like it.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty

The spot next to Eddie was empty, you had no longer sat there but ate your lunch outside of the building with your back against the wall on the ground. It hurt too much to see them together. Your seat has been replaced by her. She sat there, giggling and talking to Eddie but he paid no mind to it when his mind raced about you.

He wanted to talk to you. To make things better.

He didn't even notice Dustin get up and walk through the doors of the school knowing where exactly were you were. You felt someone sit next to you making you tense up.

" It's just me, Dustin" he sat down next to you. You couldn't help but lean your head on his shoulder.

" I'm never going to be pretty or good enough for him" you mumbled. Dustin looked down at you, his heart broke for you.

" That's not true Y/N. Eddie is just being Eddie"

" He's happy with her" Dustin sighed as he wrap an arm around you.

" Forget about him, he doesn't deserve you. He's just one guy" You lifted up your head and look at him.

" He's special, Dustin. He makes me feel special, at least he used" Dustin listens as you shake with sobs, bringing you back into him as he holds you. The only sound you could hear are your sobs and your heart breaking again.

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester But you like her better

You sat on the swings in the backyard in the darkness when the door slide opened and two people came out, you noticed the long mop of curls and the high pony tail of the other. Eddie and Chrissy. But your eyes caught on the jacket she was wearing. His.

She is wearing his jacket. You watch as the both of them stand outside, holding together.

" I don't understand why she hates me" Chrissy says. Eddie shakes his head, shrugging.

" I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know what's gotten into her" Were they talking about you?

" I just want to be friends with her but it's like every time I try, she shuts herself down"

Eddie sighs as he leans down to kiss her forehead not knowing that you were watching them. The door slides open and Robin steps out as she looks around, she was looking for you since you came to the party together.

" What are you looking for, Buckley?" Eddie asks.

" Not what, who. Have you seen Y/N?" he shakes his head but that's when a surprises comes on Robin's face as you step from the shows walking up the stairs and past the couple, as they stare at you wide eyes.

" There you are, what are you doing out here?"

" Thinking and Drinking" you shake the cup up at her. She frowns and takes your hand as she pulls you inside. Eddie watches as you disappear inside, Chrissy looks at him seeing the frown.

" You're upset she's like this" He nods

I wish I were Heather

I wish I were Heather (Oh, oh)

Another long day at school. Another day of hiding from Eddie. Another day of hell.

You sighed as you opened the door of your car, throwing your backpack inside and as you were about to sit inside, the door was gripped with two hands. One hand decorated with rings and the other with just one ring.

" What's the hell is your problem?" he asks, a glare on his face. You looked up at him with your eyebrow raised.

" Mine?" He nodded waving his hand around, " I don't see anyone else around."

" I have no problem" he takes a deep breath as he shakes his head.

" I don't know what's been up your ass lately, but you have been a dick to Chrissy. All she wanted was to be your friend"

Wish I were Heather

Why would you ever kiss me?

" Well I don't wanna be her friend!" you shouted, turning your head away from him but he wasn't having it as he walked around the door and gripped your wrist to turn and look at you.

" You can't even look at me to tell me the truth" he hisses, his eyes held anger in them.

" Fuck off, Munson" you muttered pushing at chest to get him to move but he doesn't budge as he stands his ground with his fists to his sides.

I'm not even half as pretty You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

" Fine! I don't wanna be her friend because of you!" you point at him, he blinks his eyes putting a hand on his chest. " Me?" you nodded.

" What about me, Y/N?"

" I don't wanna talk about it" you said, glaring at him as you turned your back to him feeling yourself shake. You didn't want to have this conversation with him. Not now. Not ever.

" Tell me, you've been pushing me away. I don't see you anymore and things are changing. Talk to me... please" he begs you as his anger vanishes replaced with hurt in his tone.

But you like her better Wish I were

" Because I'm in love with you Eddie Munson and you're never going to choose me" you sat in your car, closing the door as he stood there shocked with what he hears. He watches as you started your car and started to drive away.

You looked into the review mirror to see he was still standing there but your vision clouded with tears as you hurried home.

#eddie munson x reader #imagine eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things

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admiringlove · 3 years

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scent, coffee and turtlenecks.

+synopsis: hq boys and their scent, their coffee order and the turtlenecks they wear.

+genre: fluff lol; headcanons.

+characters: akaashi keiji, miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurō, sugawara kōshi.

+warnings: literally just fluff man, unless you cry because of cute stuff.

+author’s notes: inspired by @neonghxst on tumblr!! go check them out, they have a great blog and i love their writing <3

— AKAASHI KEIJI.

he smells like the first rain of the monsoon. the petrichor, the atmosphere, the sole comfort it brings you by being in his arms. it reminds you of being in the rain for the first time. his arms are firm when he embraces you, yet somehow he holds you as if you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. his scent is addicting; sometimes you never want to let go of him, and you fall asleep in his arms as he’s typing up an essay for literature. he’d smile down at you, pressing a loving peck to your forehead and carry you to bed. you’d sleepily mumble against him, “keiji you smell nice. cuddle me please” of course he doesn’t resist against it, because how can he? you look adorable. being in his arms are like being an elysian—pure heaven for your mortal heart.

definitely addicted to caffeine. but he’s one of those people that calculates up a schedule so he’s making sure the caffeine is working hundred-per-cent. he orders something strong in the mornings—like a hot vienna coffee in medium size and that’s it. no sugar, because this man likes his coffee bitter. and if he’s pulling all-nighters, then cold brew all the way. everyone at the café likes him a lot; his aesthetic and his orders match up perfectly(too bad he’s yours though).

man has a lot of turtlenecks. he’s the type of person that collects them in different colors. but not something too flashy, because he is simple and elegant. he has a range of grey’s and a few beiges, some pumpkin and whites and blacks. he even has blue(his closet is basically a color wheel of turtlenecks). to be honest, you don’t know how he fits so many clothes into his wardrobe. he basically is a autumn/fall wear model in making. it’s the season he gets the most compliments from strangers(because this man wears turtlenecks even in summer).

— MIYA ATSUMU.

smells like pine and sandalwood. his scent feels like home. whenever he finishes a game and wins, he’ll run to you(who’s in the stands) and he’ll engulf you first. the scent will overcome you, the crowd behind fading away as you feel like you’ve arrived home after a long trip and simply want to rest for a bit in the comfort of your own bed. the blond will throw you the dashiest smile in front of the public, but the softest one in private. nights with atsumu are filled with his homey scent on the couch, as you read to him and he falls asleep in your arms or your lap. you’d peck him, and he’d say, “yer sniffin’ me again, aren’t ya?” only to get poked in the eye by you after. “i don’t sniff you!” you’d yell at him as he falls onto the floor after you harshly get up and go to the bedroom, but he’d follow you and lay in bed with you and embrace you, the aroma coming over you again as he says “i know ya like my cologne, dummy. i like your scent too. c’mere so i can hug ya.”

his orders are neither too bitter nor too sweet. he probably is one of those people that tries everything on the menu first before deciding what he likes. he’ll later decide on a mocha latte with the slightest chocolate drizzle on top. he likes the small bitterness and the twist the chocolate brings to the drink. it’s steamy, and it makes his throat clear up. his heart rate slows down a smidge and he just sits there and sips on the drink till he’s calm, cool and collected. it’s a drink that makes his day better for sure. and for cold drinks, atsumu would go for an iced caramel macchiato. it just clicks with him for some reason.

he has a good collection. by this, i mean that he’s a king of knowing what looks good on him and what doesn’t. he knows what exactly to pick —whether it be a sleeveless olive green turtleneck, or a beige one with an overcoat. he’s cocky, and he knows he looks good. man is definitely a king of accessories and wears the proper amount of necklaces, rings, or whatever he thinks will go with his outfit. definitely winks at you when he catches you stare at him for too long and tells you to take a picture.

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

he smells like mahogany teakwood. it’s captivating and comforting at the same time. he wakes up before you in the mornings, so when you wake up, you’re immediately engulfed by this strong yet soothing scent. he’s holding you in his arms and stroking your hair ever-so-softly, and you let out a small whine which let him know that you’re about to wake up. and when you open your eyes, he throws you a softened smile that screams, “good morning” or “i love you” and a thousand diiferent affirmations at the same time. you run your fingers through his hair, looking up with one eye closed as he mumbles, “we have to get up for class”, and your nose scrunches at those words as you pull him closer and letting out a muffled, “i’d rather stay in bed with you for eternity”.

his order isn’t too bitter, but it’s enough to keep him awake. if he’s going for something cold, it’s going to be a dark roast cold brew with sweet-salted caramel cream. it’s a little bitter—but it manages to make him stay awake through the night to finish up an assignment or two. and if it’s a hot drink he prefers, then he definitely goes for an espresso macchiato. it makes him feel at home when you’re not there by his side.

he’s definitely the type of person that tries everything for fun. you’re laughing in the background as he pulls on a neon yellow turtleneck, the only problem is that he’s actually rocking it. he looks amazing even in the most craziest choice of clothing. although you always buy him many different shades of red(he has a lot of red in his closet—maroons, scarlets, pumpkins, you name it), he looks good in almost anything. he always makes you laugh by buying abnormal things then putting them on in front of you to check if it looks good or not—and most of the times, it does.

— SUGAWARA KŌSHI.

he smells like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. it reminds you of winter mornings, when the two of you used to go to high-school hand-in-hand with small to-go coffees that you’d have. suga is definitely the type to snuggle into you every chance he gets after getting to know that you like his scent. it’s cute to him, and he makes you feel comfortable. every time the two of you are alone, he will inch closer and closer to you, finding solace in the fact that just his presence makes your mood lighten up. he’ll hold his hand out in front of your mouth so you can press a kiss to his knuckles, he’ll kiss your forehead and get dangerously close to you(so close that you’re practically a tomato), and he’ll mutter, “hey, come here. i wanna hug you” as you stand there with a really big blush. you’ll mumble, “you smell nice, ko” and his confidence level just rises up by fifty percent.

he’s bougie. he gets a hazelnut bianco latte, just something about it reminds him of the same winter mornings he shared with you. the way you prayed at the temple for his well-being when he was sick, or the way he stayed in his bed for days and you were sitting next to him for most of that time. it’s an over the top and extra drink, but it makes him comfortable and gives him a sense of nostalgia. for a colder preference, he gets a pistachio frappuccino. it’s soft and delicate, and the taste is really elegant.

he prefers sweaters, but his go-to color is grey. suga would look good in almost anything, but he likes sweaters and woolen vests more than turtlenecks. although, if he has to choose a color to wear, then he’d choose grey(you name it, whether it be steel grey or a nice shade of pewter). he looks amazing in an abundance of shades of greys and even black—pair it with a scarf and dickies, and he looks like an angel on earth. you always compliment him, and he always ends up looking away while blushing like a high-school kid in love(well, you can’t blame him. he was one at some point).

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agentsofsupernaturalmarvel · 4 years

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Bruises and Forgotten Lunches // Joshua Bassett

IN WHICH: Tim Federle, creator of High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, forgets his lunch and has his niece bring it to him. On leave/vacation from work she meets the cast at lunch and departs after. Only someone doesn’t want to not see her again.

Characters: Reader x Joshua Bassett, niece!reader x uncle!Tim Federle, Olivia Rodrigo, Larry Saperstein, and Matt Cornett

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Possible swearing, talk about violence, injuries, kidnapping (is lightly mentioned due to reader’s job), and fluff

A/N: To fit this the minimum age to be an agent is not 23 but instead 20. Just a simple one shot that is not fully edited.

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Masterlist

Being an FBI Agent had you going on cases throughout the United States while you were working out of the field office in Salt Lake City. A recent case you spent with you team ended with you with a concussion and mandatory time off, which sucked since you were the youngest on the team. Supervisor in Chief Charlie had been adamant you not work in the field until you were medically approved to go back.

That led you to drop off your uncle’s lunch at his workplace, which was a place that was tough for you to be near. You wouldn’t have agreed to drop off the forgotten food if you had been informed that Tim’s new job had him on a set at a high school.

“Uncle Tim.” You sighed, finally finding the man sitting in a chair holding a script and pen in his hand. His green eyes meeting the ones that had followed his every move as a kid.

“Hey, Kid!” Tim grinned raising to grab you in his arms, “Your mom texted me about your free time. Are you okay?”

“I got punched in the head by a suspect.” You spoke, “fell onto the cement and woke in a hospital.”

Tim’s face fell at your words, “I had no clue it was that serious. I’m sorry I was working when that happened.”

“It’s okay.” You soothed the older man. Your parents had you when they were in their early twenties completely unplanned but wholly loved by both sides.

Uncle Tim was born after your mother by a few years and in his grade twelve year when his sister brought her long-term boyfriend home. That night involved a lot of screaming and crying when the Federle found out their college student daughter was pregnant. While your parents went through with the pregnancy, obviously, Tim often offered to babysit for free when they had to work. You had a special bond with Tim to this day, he’s like a big brother and a second dad at the same time.

“Do you want to hang around? There’s a snack table to grab food from and have lunch with me.” Tim offered barely glancing at the school, but he didn’t know why schools made you uncomfortable now.

“I’m not sure. You guys look super busy.” You started but failed when Tim shook his head at your words. He motioned to follow him to a set up of long tables under umbrellas in the warm weather, a group of people sat there.

“Guys, this is my niece Y/N. Bean this is the main cast of the show.” Tim spoke, getting the actors to wave and smile, “She was an awesome niece to drop my lunch off.”

Tim yanked you into his arms to lightly rub his knuckles on your head ever so careful with the head injury you received.

“What happened that you got a bruise on your temple?” A tan guy with vivid blue eyes questioned leaning forward in his chair. His plate had a piece of pizza left, but he focused entirely on you.

“Work hazard.”

“Do you box?” A male with bright ginger hair questioned next leading to the others at the table to listen carefully.

Tim snagged a seat to unpack his lunch while listening to you, “I haven’t heard the story either fully.”

“I can’t legally tell you!” You joked to your uncle, “You’ve been saying that since I graduated! I should better introduce myself than he did. I’m Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N with the FBI, this lovely token was given to me by an unsub in a recent investigation.”

“FBI-“

“Guys we should really introduce ourselves.” One of the younger girls spoke with a wry smile, “I’m Olivia, and these nosy nuisances are Josh, Larry, Matt, and Sofia.”

Each of the smiled in response before wanting to finish the rest of the story but were interrupted when Tim pushed half his sandwich over; the same routine since before you could remember.

“I’ve been with the FBI for about a year now and just off my probationary period. Before that, I worked as a cop for a year after graduating high school early.” You gave a vague back history and a few details, “I’ve been fortunate to not have been shot before, other than taking it to the vest which hurts a lot. This is the worst I’ve had with a concussion for someone I was pursuing. I’m on medical leave for a few days.”

“Thank you for doing what you do for us to be safe.” Josh spoke up first mesmerising you with the infectious smile that pulled up slightly more on one side. His brown eyes connecting with yours in a while that floored the group.

“I’ve wanted to serve in terms of justice since I was a kid first as a lawyer, but then my grade five year had a professional day, and a kid’s FBI parent talked to us. That was the reason I decided to join the Academy.” You supplied smiling at the boy, “I’m the youngest on my team.”

“Bean graduated high school at sixteen and went straight into University in that same fall. By nineteen, she was training to be a cop and then raised to successfully join a career that terrifies everyone in the family.”

“Why play an FBI Agent when I could be one in real life?” You playfully winked at your uncle gaining only a chuckle in response, “Well you guys are probably about to start, and I really have to get going. I may be on medical leave, but I have paperwork to do.”

That being said, you left the group to their own devices to call a cab, you weren’t allowed to drive with the concussion. You were surprised when someone called you name and went to tap your shoulder; their hand was yanked and pulled until he was kneeling with his arm held against his back.

“Okay, yup really shouldn’t have tapped an agent’s shoulder.” He coughed relaxing when he’s arm was released from the uncomfortable position, “I’m sorry about that.”

“What can I do for you, Josh?” You questioned the actor with one raised eyebrow that pulled the fading bruise.

“I was wondering if I could have your number?” Josh bashfully questioned struggling to keep eye contact when his cheeks were turning a light pink. You had a feeling he didn’t do this often.

“Just so happens I’m not your assigned FBI agent.” You joked chuckling when his eyes widened, “I’m kidding. We don’t do surveillance on a person for no reason.”

“Oh.” Josh sighed, nodding his head as he tentatively held out his phone for you, “Good to know.”

You chuckled putting your name in for him and sending a swift message to you, so you had his number too. The boy beamed when you got into the cab and practically swayed in the language of love when he closed your door.

Over One Year Later

It was a tough case involving a teenage girl kidnapped with details that made you feel sick with the people that sadly populated the world. You were glad to be home after the week in Montana in your little apartment. Your shoulders were slouched as you shut and locked the door.

“Hey.”

You simply smiled and walked straight into his open arms that you severely needed after the long week. Josh and you had been dating over a little over a year, you officially started dating a month after meeting and constant talking.

“Hi.” You mumbled into his shoulder, leaning back to sniff the air, “Did you make food?”

“Yeah, I tried this new recipe your Mom sent, and I did a good job.” Josh spoke, leaning cheek on your head, “I’m sorry you had a tough week.”

“There was a young girl.” Your voice broke, “We saved her, but Josh, she’s gonna need support after what happened.”

Josh hugged you closer swaying at he did so and the way you loved.

As an FBI Agent, you worked out of the Utah field office in Salt Lake City and served Utah. Along with Utah, you served Idaho, Yellowstone National Park and the recent state you were in Montana. Josh filmed High School Musical: The Musical: The Series for most of the year and lived the other part in California. To save money and with your long hour jobs, he moved in for the filming months.

“Just think in a few weeks we’ll be in Oceanside with our family.” Josh mumbled in your ear, bringing a bright smile to your face.

Your love story was more fast-paced than what was typically expected, but with almost two years together, you both knew. Six months ago, Josh proposed with a heartfelt speech and plan which got your acceptance. Planning a wedding while working full time and with his filming schedule was hard, but you did it.

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” You mumbled leaning back to kiss him.

You never anticipated being married at twenty-two and Josh as twenty-one. Still, it was happening, and you were so excited.

“We still need to talk about if you are going to request a transfer to LA.” Josh spoke, leading you through the apartment to the bedroom. He waited as you placed your gun in your lockbox and changed out of your work clothes into a pair of sweaters and a shirt.

“It depends on where it would work for you.” You spoke smiling as he clasped your hand in his, immediately his thumb ran across your engagement ring. It was a habit he picked up, and you simply adored it.

“Filming for High School Musical is four months out of the year and then promo varying on the amount.” Josh thought it over you both grabbed the dishes to set at the moderately sized table, “Would you be happy?”

“I’m happy wherever you are.” You cheesed at the blushing guy across from you as you both served the meal he made, “We can keep the apartment for when you are here filming too.”

“Good idea.” Josh spoke, “Look at us, adulting.”

“About as adult as you can get when we had a Disney dance party last week.” You joked leaning over the table to share one last kiss before you tabled the talk of the wedding and life beyond to just be with each other at the moment.

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

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GF - Shards of Glass 1/2

After over thirty years, Ma is getting paid a visit, all thanks to the persuasion of a sweater-making, pig-loving teenager. A loud HAPPY BIRTHDAY for Stanley and Stanford Pines, born June 15th 19?? (who cares?) Part 2 will be posted on June 30th to conclude the celebration of their existence. So stay tuned!

@thestanbros

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel had never been on a plane before.

Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true; she had been on an airplane before, but she was so little back then and she didn't remember it now, so to her brain this was her first time on a plane, and she didn't like it much. She had to chew on gum the whole time to keep from getting a headache and the WiFi was too slow to function, so she daydreamed about the summer ahead as she watched the clouds roll by and imagined shapes.

Once, when she and Dipper were really little, maybe four or five, they had flown down to Ma Pines' house all the way in New Jersey for a holiday. Probably Thanksgiving since Mabel only had three memories of that trip. She remembered yummy sweet potatoes with marshmallows that she ate as much as she was allowed, she remembered the distinct smell of the flat, and she remembered…

"Attention passengers, we will be arriving in Glass Shard, New Jersey in five minutes. Please remain seated until instructed to exit the plane, and as always thanks for flying with us at…"

"Dipper, we're here!" Mabel cheered and checked her phone, her other hand busy petting a disturbed Waddles on her lap. By the time a message would load to her great uncles they would already be in front of them, so there was no point in sending a text to alert them of the arrival. "This is so exciting! A whole month sailing with my three favorite people in the world!"

"I'm so excited to see all the anomalies the guys were talking about." Dipper said, looking up from his special journal to smile at his twin. "Maybe we'll see a real adlet!"

"But first I wanna see where Grunkle Stan and Ford grew up!" Mabel piped in. "Maybe we'll see the cave where they found the Stan O' War!"

"Maybe," Dipper said, unsure how true that word was. "But don't you think they might not want to stay very long? I wouldn't be surprised if they want to set sail as soon as we get there."

"But what about their mom?" Mabel asked. "Don't they want to see her?"

Dipper looked down at the silver pinetree on his blue book. Their great-grandmother was a tough old bird (as Grandpa Shermie called her) and was still going in her early nineties. Grant it, she didn't do much besides give an occasional palm reading to keep herself busy, but she was definitely still around. Grandpa Shermie was good about staying in touch with her from what Dad said, and Dad called her every Sunday, but she was still relatively lonely due to the fact that her husband was gone (good riddance) and two of her sons hadn't spoken to her in thirty years. ("Stanford" had been very quiet during Stanley's funeral, had refused to attend Filbrick's, and when Grunkle Stan saw Dipper and Mabel being born he left just before Ma arrived at the hospital.) While a visit was way overdue, it might be too little too late.

"I'm sure they want to see her," Dipper finally said as he looked back up at Mabel. "But it might be too hard, now. And not just for them, you know? How would she take it? Would she even believe them?"

Mabel's attitude dropped a little bit more. She shrugged and scratched the spot Waddles can never reach. "I dunno… Dad took the news okay."

Dipper smiled. When their parents' had gotten Mabel's letter their mother didn't believe them, but their father took them seriously and only shrugged and said, "Yup, that sounds like my uncles, alright."

"I think it's a good idea to see Ma, but let's not pressure them, okay?" Dipper settled on.

"Don't worry, Bro-Bro." Mabel said confidently. "It'll all work out. Oo! Look, look, look! We're here! Look, Dipper, look!"

"Okay okay, I'm looking." Dipper chuckled as they both watched the ground come closer and closer, the plane landing safely on the runway and gliding peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford had always been more collected and self-contained of the dynamic duo; this became apparent as he was able to stand perfectly calm in the airport with his hands on the pockets of his blue jacket while Stan tapped his foot impatiently and checked his phone every minute, even though he never received a notification or heard a ringtone. Ford smiled and came up with a joke to poke the bear with. "Well well, has Stanley Pines truly gone soft for two teenagers?"

"Shaddup." Stan growled but smiled back nonetheless.

"You know, a watched pot never boils. Just relax."

"I ain't worried or nothing, Poindexter," Stan defended. "Sorry that an uncle's excited to see his kids!"

"I'm happily anticipating their arrival, as well," Ford chuckled. "I'll admit it, Mabel's idea of sailing with us is a fantastic one. Why in the Multiverse she wanted to go so badly she felt compelled to beg for a month straight…"

"Believe it or not, the kids like us." Stan lightly punched his shoulder. "I'm sure all they want is to be stuck on a boat with two cool old men for a month with nothing but fish and an occasional monster for company."

"And a pig."

Stan snorted. "I try to forget that naked jerk."

"And we all know how great of a job you…" Ford cut himself off, turning red and fearing he had crossed a line, but Stan laughed loudly and slapped his knee.

"Okay okay, you got me there…"

"Stanley,"

"What?"

Just as Stan turned around, his eyes landed on the two most precious things in the world: a boy in a ushanka and navy blue vest with a green t-shirt and blue jeans, a journal in his hands and a large backpack on his shoulders, and a girl with shoulder-length brown hair kept back with a red headband, wearing a purple sweater with a big pink heart that held a golden fish and a golden six-fingered hand, a pig in her arms and a huge suitcase just busting at the seam with sweaters and arts n' crafts supplies.

Mabel grinned with teeth free of braces and tears in her eyes and let Waddles down so they could all run freely. Stan broke into a run for his pumpkin and ignored the squealing pig that arrived at him first by a split second, little hooves on his jeans and button eyes requesting cuddles. Stan scooped Mabel up into his arms and held her tight, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face in his shoulder. Dipper was at his legs in an instant and hugged him, not bothering to pretend it's a chokehold or a means to make the old guy trip and fall. Stan freed an arm to keep him close, and not even a second after Dipper joined the hug Ford was by his brother's side and Dipper adjusted to hug him, too.

Stan heard a small sniff and rubbed Mabel's back. "Sweetie, you're not crying, are you?"

Mabel lifted her head up from his shoulder to look at him, wiping away the tears on her cheeks and eyes. "N-No…" Her smile unwavering through her white lie.

Stan chuckled warmly and put her down next to her twin. "Alright, let us get a good look at you two."

"You've seen us at least once a week." Dipper reminded him. They video-chatted constantly and there wasn't a day they didn't exchange an email or a text message.

"This is different, now shaddap and let me work through my cataracts." Stan and Ford looked at the kids hungrily, who was looking back at them just the same, as if they couldn't absorb each other's appearances enough. Which was probably true. "You've both gotten taller."

"I'm taller than Mabel now!"

"By one milometer!"

"Now don't get short with your brother." Ford said with a smile, making every laugh, including Mabel, who shrugged with a "whatcha gonna do" atmosphere to it.

"And your teeth look amazing, pumpkin!" Stan commented; back in March she had gotten the braces removed and admitted to being unsure if her teeth looked good enough, but they dazzled beautifully when she grinned and apart from a painful reminder that she was growing up, Stan was pleased with the new change.

"And the pictures and video don't do your hair justice. You look beautiful." Ford got on one knee and ruffled her hair, making her giggle and playfully swat his hand away. "I must ask, was there a reason for the new hairstyle, or did you simply fancy trying something new?"

"Let's just say an arts n' crafts accident didn't leave me much choice." Mabel said with a wink.

"She set her hair on fire and we had to cut off the dead ends." Dipper spoiled.

"Dipper! I gotta keep some secrets! It makes me look cool and mysterious!"

"No more secret, sweetie." Stan laughed alongside her.

"And Dipper, my boy, you've certainly grown up a lot since we've last seen you." Ford noted as he stood back up.

"Yeah, who gave you permission to look more manly and junk?"

Dipper rolled his eyes at Grunkle Stan's comment, but Mabel chimed in first. "He's already grown five chest hairs! I bet he named them, too."

"I did not!"

"He won't let me see, though…"

"Last time you saw my chest hair you put it in your scrapbook!"

"That's cuz it was your first, Dip-Dip. The rest aren't as special."

The uncles laughed at the kids' playful bickering and Stan took Mabel's suitcase and they ventured out of the airport with Waddles in Mabel's arms.

With the airport being on the furthest side of town from the beach, Stan flagged down a cab and they piled in for the docks. The entire car-ride they filled each other in on their lives, the kids talking about school and the adults giving brief summaries of some of their adventures. Waddles moved from Mabel's lap to Stan's, and without a single comment and only funny looks from the others, Stan scratched the pig as he talked and listened.

At long last the cab pulled up to the docks and the kids ran out, tired of sitting after a six-hour flight and a twenty-minute car ride, while Ford paid for the ride. The younger set of twins raced to the boat they had only seen pictures of and marveled at the vessel before them. Already showing signs of harsh weather and tons of love, the Stan O' War II stood strong on the gentle sea salt waves, the white letter shining in the early-afternoon sun. With a cozy cabin with a downstairs bedroom and an upstairs everything room, a hardtop for astronomy and sunbathing, and a big enough cockpit for the small family, the Stan O' War II had been an excellent home for the old pair of twins and the younger pair of twins were excited to live here for the first half of summer.

"There she is, kids!" Stan said proudly, a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "This ole girl survived Fiji Monkeys, sirens, and five different krakens. It's completely and totally safe." And then a piece of the antenna for the TV fell off.

"Grunkle Stan, if we can survive in the Mystery Shack for an entire summer, I think we'll be fine here." Dipper said while Mabel ran up to the boat and climbed up with Ford behind her.

"What do you think, my dear?"

"It's BEAUTIFUL!" Mabel squealed and hoisted Waddles up into the boat with them, her eyes sparkling with stars as she took in every detail. "I can't wait to get splinters and name all the moldy spots!"

"Unfortunately, there aren't any moldy spots yet." Ford chuckled. "But there are some craters in the wood that haven't been named."

"Leave that to Mabel!"

When Stan and Dipper joined them, the old men took the kids downstairs to the bedroom to unload their things and get situated. What once used to only hold a set of bunk beds and a dresser now also hosted a set of hammocks hooked to the wall and the dresser, one on top of the other for the kids. Mabel squealed with delight and snuggled into the lower one (still a little afraid of heights) and Dipper said, "Whoa, cool! Thanks, guys."

"Well, can't have you two gremlins sleeping out on deck, can we?" Stan asked. He clapped his hands together and declared, "Alright! You two get settled while Ford and I get us out at sea…"

Mabel sat up on her knees, her hands on the edge of the hammock. "Wait, Grunkle Stan! Aren't you gonna give us the grand tour?"

Stan shrugged. "It's a small boat. Not much to tour, kid."

"I mean Glass Shard Beach." Mabel pressed. "You could show us that old candy store and your swing-set and the boardwalk you used to play in!"

Ford looked over at his brother; while he could stomach saying here a little longer, he wasn't sure how comfortable Stan was taking a trip down memory lane, but then again Stan was always preaching about how "the past's in the past" and "old memories shouldn't stop us from making newer, better ones," but that didn't excuse the fact that Stan had been quick to suggest leaving the docks as soon as they picked up the kids and get the supplies they needed when they first arrived.

But Stan smiled, crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked, "I don't see why not? You cool with it, Sixer?"

Ford smiled at his family. "I think it's a wonderful idea. The boardwalk should be open, maybe the Freak Show is still there."

"Freak Show?! Let's go!" Mabel hopped out of her hammock and the four left the boat for town.

Walking alongside the beach and letting Mabel ride on Stan's shoulders, the kids got a good glimpse of the town. They eventually decide to walk into it on the way to the boardwalk, the old men wondering how much Glass Shard had changed.

It was an odd combination of "nothing changes" and "everything changes". The buildings were still the same, not much torn down or rebuilt, but the interiors were mostly updated or something completely different. They passed the Juke Joint and Stan found he couldn't ignore the growl in his stomach. Nothing but the staff had changed (and the prices had gone up due to inflation), the wall art and food and music still the same, but they had a fun time in the diner as the adults told the kids why What's New Kittycat wasn't an option in the jukebox.

After the late lunch, they were just about to enter the boardwalk when they spotted the candy store that mostly sold saltwater taffy, but they also sold jelly jeans, toffee peanuts, peanut brittle, and any kind of candy anyone could want. Though the store had been given a clean update since Ford and Stan were children, the candy was better than they remembered and they all filled their pockets with bags of sweets. Then they strolled along the Boardwalk and while they didn't play many games, the Stan-twins had a lot of fun telling stories that came along with each and every booth.

At the end, in a giant tent with a devil at the front, stood the Freak Show. Of course, none of the adults from the old men's childhood were still around, except for one muscular guy with tons of tattoos who growled at Mabel like an animal but then broke into a smile as she complimented his look and asked where she could get a cool tattoo of a headless seagull.

"Well, tear off my limbs and call me the next human pickle!" The very old tattoo guy said, his hair white and his skin in wrinkles, but his muscles still somehow very toned and his tattoos still clear as ever. "Good ole Six Fingers! How've you two been? These squirts normies?"

Dipper pulled off his hat and pushed back his bangs. "Who you calling normie?"

The whole tent gasped and a woman with hair growing all over her face said tearfully, "One of us."

"Yup, these little weirdos are Dipper and Mabel, our brother's grandkids." Stan introduced proudly.

"Aw, well ain't that swell!" A puppet said for it's puppeteer.

"So wait, you knew our great-uncles when they were kids?" Dipper asked the oldest weirdo.

"Tell us some embarrassing stories about them!" Mabel bugged, her hands on the guy's knee.

The old tattooed guy laughed. "Embarrassing?! Ha! Your uncles were cool little weirdos who made this dock more bearable! Nearly caught a devil at ten-years-old to boot!..."

"You did WHAT?!" The kids gasped at their beaming uncles.

"... Stan over there knew more swears than anyone else his age and Ford knew more secrets than anyone ever. Those two were hands-down the best pair of twins this side of the Mississippi!"

Ford, who was rosy in his cheeks, had his hands in his pockets and commented, "The Sibling Brothers would have loved to disagree."

"What who now?" Mabel asked.

"The worst pair of uptight dorks you would ever meet," Stan growled. "Ascot and Dickie. Blond-haired rich kids who claimed that no one solved a case quicker than them, but who found the Jersey Devil first, ey?!"

"You found WHAT?!"

"I wonder whatever happened to them." Ford pondered as he held his cleft chin.

"Who cares?" Stan said and motioned the kids out of the tent. "Now let's get outta here so I can show you what happens when a pelican eats a firecracker!"

"Stanley, no!"

"Stanley, YES!"

When the sun was setting beautifully on the ocean, the grunkles bought everyone some ice cream and they sat at the edge of the boardwalk to eat. At one point Stan got ice cream on his shirt with a small "Boo!" and had to leave to clean it off, but then got sidetracked and tried to cheat at a booth. Ford went over to rangle his brother, leaving the kids alone.

"Isn't this place great?" Mabel asked with Waddles licking her strawberry ice cream. "They were so lucky to grow up on a beach! Piedmont is so boring."

Dipper smiled at his sister and opened his mouth to respond, but something else caught his attention. A pair of look-alike kids were snickering and laughing as Grunkle Stan and Ford fought off a mean seagull that was trying to peek at the ice cream on Stan's chest. It was a cruel snicker, one the old men couldn't hear, but the kids could, only being a few feet away from them.

"What a couple of fools." The girl with short blonde curls laughed with a slight English accent.

"And does that one have six fingers?" The boy sneered with peering eyes, his hair greased and parted down the middle. "Ugh."

"Hey, hey!" Dipper snapped and stood up, pointing at the rude pair of siblings. "Shut it." He said darkly.

The boy scoffed with a cheeky smile. "Or what? What does it matter to you?"

"Yeah, you leave Grunkle Stan and Ford alone!" Mabel demanded, standing by her brother's side.

"Wait," The girl looked back at the old men, still fighting off the bird, and she cackled a mean laugh. "Six fingers? Rags for clothes? Stan and Ford? Are you the Pines family?"

Dipper and Mabel glared at them. "Yeah? So what?"

"I haven't heard that name since Uncle Ascot and Uncle Dickie told us about how they conquered the Jersey Devil and tricked some monsters to make the boys run away crying." The boy marveled.

Dipper and Mabel glared daggers at the kids, ready to snap at them, but a pair of adults came up behind the mean kids and a voice said coldly, "Bernard, Silvia, play nicely."

Mabel snickered. "Bernard…"

Dipper looked at the men who were around Ford and Stan's age. Their blond hair was freckled with gray, one of the men had a twirly mustache and wore a red and brown sweater-vest combo while the other was clean-shaved and wore a blue polo with khakis. Their blue eyes were cold and mean, and Mabel and Dipper instantly didn't like them. Ascot and Dickie smiled maliciously; these kids looked nearly identical to those pains in their sides. "I see twins run in your family, as well, do they?"

"Excellent deduction, Dickie." His brother commented. "My my my, I didn't think this town could get any worse, but here we are. Once again terrorized by the discount Mystery Twins."

"Hey!" Mabel snapped. "We're awesome! Our grunkles are the best! They go on super cool adventures all the time!"

Meanwhile Stan kicked the seagull away, making it squawk and dive for his red beanie. While Stan grabbed his hat in time and tugged, Ford grabbed the bird and pulled furiously.

Ascot and Dickie rolled their eyes in unison. "We can see that."

Huffing and puffing, Ford and Stan walked up to their kids while Stan readjusted his beanie and smiled down at the best pair of Mystery Twins he knew. "Kids, if we hurry we might make it to…"

Ford's eyes widened and then narrowed darkly. "No. Way."

"What? What…" Stan looked up and growled like an angry bulldog, a hand on Dipper and Mabel's shoulder instinctively. "Oh, great. You two."

"And so the Pines twins come crawling back, eh?" Ascot snorted. "I do hope the mysterious findings out in the West have served you well, Stanford, as you preached it would." He and his family looked up and down at their faded jeans and gruff stature.

"Clearly not." Dickie and the let slip his downfall. "And here I thought your family couldn't sink any lower."

He screamed as a pig bit his ankle and Stan stole the moment of weakness for his advantage, punching the old jerk in the face and Dickie slapping him in return, the two getting into a fight. The moment Stan punched Dickie, Ascot nearly punched Stan in retaliation, but Ford jumped him and started rolling on the docks with him. Mabel shrugged and pulled on Silvia's hair and punched her on the cheek while Bernard and Dipper began slapping each other.

And that was how Stan and Ford ended up fleeing from the cops with a teenager in their arms. Stan had to pull Mabel off of the girl like an angry cat at the sound of the sirens and Ford carried Dipper merely because the old scientist was much faster than the boy.

Luckily no one was hurt, aside from some bruises on their limbs from fighting, but Silvia had grabbed Mabel's arm awkwardly at some point during the fight and her long nails scratched Mabel's skin, actually just deep enough to make a bead or two of blood. So Ford sat Mabel on the table, her sleeve rolled up, while he tried to disinfect her injury, but Mabel kept pulling away and whimpering at the painful medicine.

"Mabel, please, you're worse than Stanley was." Ford said to ease the situation.

Mabel smiled and gripped his hand a little tighter as the medicine stung her arm. Ford then quickly wrapped it up as he scolded. "And really Stanley, you couldn't have controlled your temper?"

"You're one to talk, you jumped Ascot!"

"He was about to attack you!"

"Whatever, you were both awesome!" Dipper cheered.

"Yeah! Did you see the black eyes Dickie had!" Mabel laughed. "He'll be avoiding cameras for weeks!"

"Who says it never ends well to see old friends?" Stan asked and opened the cabinet to get started on a late dinner.

Over baked beans and hotdogs, or Beanies and Weenies as the Pines called them, Stan and Ford shared their plan with Dipper and Mabel, the map laid out on the table and the trail through Canada's islands written in pencil. The kids were beyond excited. The plan was actually pretty straightforward; they were all going home to Gravity Falls together. After first exploring Boston (mostly so the nerds in the family could geek about American History), they were going up north past Prince Edward Island and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, crossing the Labrador Sea for the Baffin Bay, passing the Cornwallis, Bathrust, and Melville Islands, sailing over the Beaufort Sea, down through the Chukchi Sea, and dipping around Alaska and down south for America until they arrived at Florence so the Stan O' War II could rest for whatever remained of summer.

"This looks incredible!" Dipper said, eyeing the newspaper articles on monsters around Canada and the foggy photographs that accompanied it.

"I'm so excited!" Mabel cheered, shoving her cheeks full of Beanies and Weenies.

"Then we'll head out first thing tomorrow!" Stan declared.

"Actually, can we go see Ma first?"

It was like a record had screeched horribly. Stan's whole body tensed, his jaw was tighter, and he was gripping his spoon much tighter than necessary. Ford, however, looked like he was caving in himself, like an animal curling up in fear to hide, his back hunched over and his head a bit lower. Dipper glared at his sister. "Mabel," He hissed in his warning tone.

"What?" Mabel asked gently. "I miss her. It'd be good to see her again, don't you think?"

"Well yeah, but…"

"I didn't know you had met her." Ford mumbled with a soft smile.

Mabel grinned. "Yeah! We talked on the phone sometimes when Dad would call. And we went to see her once. She loves us! She's super cool! She's the one that told me I'd one day marry a really handsome guy."

"She only said that cuz you wouldn't quit begging her to read your palm." Dipper sneered with a smile. "You know all her fortunes were fake, right?"

"The love behind them wasn't." Mabel insisted. "Come on, can't see just go say hello? We're already here, we might as well. She'd be so surprised!"

"I don't think that's a good idea, my dear." Ford said quietly.

"Why not?" Mabel asked gently.

"Well… given everything that has happened… it would just be very difficult."

"So is defeating a triangle demon, but you guys did it together, didn't you?" Mabel said with a soothing smile. She covered one of Ford's polydactyl hands and squeezed it reassuringly. "I know it'll be hard, but I think we should go see her? Don't you want to say hello?"

"Of course I do." Ford said quickly. "She's my mother, but…" His eyes went to Stan, suddenly concerned about something. "Stanley, you've been very quiet."

Mabel looked at her hero to find him engulfed in shame. She wondered if he had looked like that after Ford was lost behind the portal. He held his head with one hand, his elbows on the table, and the strong grunkle she knew resembled a tired old man too much for her liking. Mabel's heart dropped when she came to the conclusion that she caused that pain. "Grunkle Stan…"

"Look, it's no secret I did a bad job of staying in touch with her even before the portal business." Stan started with. "I definitely went months without a payphone for her."

"You're not the only one to blame." Ford sighed. "I hardly called her when I was in college and nothing changed when I moved to Gravity Falls. Fiddleford was actually the one who encouraged me to call her one day the summer before… before everything happened. That was the last time I spoke to her."

"Yeah well, I kept that character trait in my portrayal of you, Sixer." Stan growled, his anger at himself. "You know her; she's too smart. One long look at me and she would've known who I was. You can't fool the best conwoman in New Jersey. So I just straight-up avoided her. I didn't even go to Pa's funeral and showed up early to see you two gremlins being born, all so I could avoid her. And I would've been too tempted to dance on someone's grave if I had gone to the funeral." He added.

"Stanley,"

"Kidding, that was a joke. The point is, just popping in after all these years seems too little too late in my book. So, no. sorry, but we're not going."

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said as soft as a kitten and got down from the table to stand next to him. "I'm sure Ma would wanna see you."

"I don't think so, sweetie…"

"That's not true." Mabel said firmly. "She loves you both. All moms love their kids, no matter how many stupid mistakes they make, or how old and grunkly they get." She added, making Stan crack a smile that didn't last long. "It doesn't matter how mad our mom would be, she'd still wanna talk to us. She even forgave Dipper for breaking her favorite mug."

"Geez, it's been five years…"

"And you still haven't replaced it, Dip-Dip." Mabel said and focused her attention on both of the old guys. "If you two really don't think you can go see Ma, it's okay. We don't have to go. But I think you guys want to go, and you two need to go. She needs to know the truth, she needs to know you're okay, and even if she doesn't take it well, at least you can say you tried and you won't have to worry about it anymore."

Stan and Ford's eyes flickered to each other to use that awesome twin-telepathy they had or whatever. Or maybe they were just close enough to be able to read minds with a single facial expression to go off of. Either way, Stan gently ruffled Mabel's hair with a smile and said, "Alright, we'll go see Ma tomorrow after breakfast."

Mabel wanted to cheer and shout and punch the air victoriously, but she managed to catch herself in time and only allowed a quiet "yes!" before hugging Grunkle Stan and saying, "I'm so proud of you guys." She quickly hugged Ford before returning to her dinner, choosing to ignore the star-struck looks on the old men's faces.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later and Mabel was sitting criss-cross in her hammock, wearing pajamas while knitting. The gentle clicking of her needles harmonized with the gentle rocking of the waves and her grunkle's humming from the tiny bathroom. Dipper was above her, reading a book quickly before bed, and when Stan emerged from the bathroom in his boxers and undershirt, taking his gray hair damp with a towel, and saw that his twin wasn't preparing for bed, he growled, "Sixer, do I have to drug you again?! Get down here!"

"I'm coming!" Ford called back.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Yeesh. You kids settled in okay?"

"Yeah," Dipper said casually.

"I love these hammocks!" Mabel said, rocking hers a little with joy. "Maybe we should replace the mattresses at the Shack with these!"

Stan chuckled as he threw his towel at the foot of the bunk bed and he noticed the beautiful deep violet yarn in his niece's lap. "Whatcha workin' on, Mabel? 'Nother sweater?"

"Yup!" Mabel said proudly to show a thick and cozy purple sweater that was a little more detailed than her usual creations. While this one lacked any pictures or designs, the sleeves had been woven with a special pattern down the arm and the wrists and neck were so thick and fluffy they resembled odd clouds you could sink into. "I wanna show Ma how much better I've gotten since she taught me."

Surprisingly, the mention of his mother made Stan smile, not frown. Ford came down the stairs just in time to hear Mabel say that, and they both smiled tiredly at their niece. "I didn't know she taught you how to knit."

"Oh yeah," Mabel said with a nod and resumed her work. "When Dipper and I were four or five we visited her for Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa. I don't remember much about it, but I remember the delicious sweet potatoes with marshmallows, the flat's smell, and that Ma taught me how to knit. Mom and Dad and Grandma were busy in the kitchen and didn't want my help (I still have no idea why), and Grandpa Shermie had fallen asleep while watching the parade. Ma sat in this rocking chair, and at first I thought she was a witch and doing magic, making two shiny sticks click together to make something, but Ma laughed and explained what she was doing and asked if I wanted to do it, too. So she let me sit on her lap and follow her hands as we made a really pretty blanket until dinner was ready. Ma even let me take some yarn and a pair of needles home with me, and I haven't stopped knitting since."

Stan smiled, sitting on the bottom bunk. "That's really cool, sweetie."

Ford, who had slipped into the bathroom to change into his blue flannel pajamas, called from the other side of the door, "She will love a Mabel Pines original."

"Thanks. I hope so." Mabel inspected her work and gave a quick nod of approval before packing it away in her suitcase and curling up for bed.

One by one everyone settled down. Ford emerged with clean teeth and pajamas and climbed up to his bed, putting his glasses up on a shelf by his head. Dipper turned off the lamp on top of the dresser, leaving only Stan's nightstand-lamp on, and he set his book down and began to settle. Stan was just about to turn off his lamp, but Mabel sat up and gasped, "Wait! You guys! Tell us about the Jersey Devil!"

Dipper sat up excitedly and sided with his twin. "Yeah! When were you gonna tell us that one, anyways?"

Stan shrugged with a cheeky smile and Ford chuckled. "Oh come on, you don't wanna hear about the first pair of Mystery Twins." Stan teased, waving the idea away.

"Yeah we do!" Dipper argued with a grin. "Come on!"

"It can even be our bedtime story!" Mabel suggested, snuggling into her blankets and smiling at her uncle with those adorable eyes and cheeks no man was immune to.

"How old are you again?"

"Oh, just tell them, Stanley."

"Alright alright," Stan rubbed his hands together with a toothy grin and wiggled his fingers to begin the story. "The year was 1960-something in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Summer had just started, but before we could figure out which urban legend to hunt down that day, Pa called for Stanford and was really mad about something…"

"Now, hold on, Stanley." Ford said, sitting up a little from lying on his front and listening to his brother's story. "Pa called for both of us! In fact, we called for 'Stan Pines' but we both knew that meant he wanted us both."

"What?!" Stan gasped, pretending to be offended. "Me, innocent and perfect, being angrily called? Never!"

Dipper and Mabel laughed, not sure if Stan had ever truly been innocent, and so from that point forward the elder twins told the story together, interrupting each other with corrected versions of the story and doubling the runtime, but the kids weren't complaining. Hearing about the old Freak Show, killing the Sibling Brothers, and basically acting how Dipper and Mabel would act on a search for the devil, was hands-down the best bedtime story in the history of bedtime stories, and by the time they had gotten to the part where Shanklin the Stab-Possum saved the day, Waddles was asleep on Stan's bed and the kids were shiny-eyed.

"And that's how Stanley and I ended up grounded for the summer." Ford concluded with, adding in a shrug. "To be honest, we didn't even mind. Solitary confinement is't so bad with the right prison mate. Pa was angry when Stan confessed, but I think some small part of him appreciated the honesty. I guess I'll never know."

"And that's when you two knew you'd be adventuring together for the rest of your lives and everyone lived happily ever after!" Mabel cheered.

Ford laughed at her adorable nature and commented, "I suppose we did."

"Alright, everyone get some shut eye." Stan gruffed as he laid down, gently pushing Waddles out of the way so he could rest his legs, but all that did was cause the pig to trot up to his hand and lay underneath it for sleep. "G'night."

Three voices returned the wish for pleasant dreams and Stan turned off the lamp. The room was soon filled with the gentle snores of the four Pines, escaping into a world entirely their own.

#GF #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #week 2: birhtday #june 15th #HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!#ANGST AND FLUFF

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nom-central · 4 years

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if it’s not too much a bother,, could you do something sweet, like a reader insert and mini giant? ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

…Maybe this little container of brownies wasn’t enough.

You’re standing in front of the large door of your dragon friend’s house. Every time you stop by you’re reminded of how huge they are compared to you, but you always forget to compensate for their size by bringing more food. You loved to cook and bake, and whenever you came by to visit you liked to bring them something to try. Today was their birthday, so you made them their favorite: mint chocolate brownies! However, they have a very large appetite...well, it’s the thought that counts! You gingerly knock on the door, and after a moment of silence it swings open to reveal your friend, whose large size and wide frame fill the doorway. They beam when they see it’s you, and they’re quick to scoop you up into a hug and press you against their soft chubby belly, and softer green sweater vest.

“I’m so glad to see you! Are those for me? You remembered my birthday!!”

The now purring dragon that’s got you in a bear hug is Chubs, which isn’t their actual name but a nickname they’ve grown fond of. Standing at 13 ft tall, they were shorter than most dragons but they made up for it in their softness and warm demeanor. You wish them a muffled happy birthday and politely ask to be let down, to which they oblige with a toothy grin. “Come in, come in!” They move out of the way to let you in, happily trotting someplace else in the house. You follow them in, finding them settled into a large couch. You walk up to them with a smile, presenting them with the container of brownies you made for them. The tip of their tail starts to wiggle in what you’ve learned is delight, and they beam at you again as they take it. “Really, you didn’t have to make me anything...but I appreciate this very much! What kind are they, if I may ask?” You smile, telling them to try it and see for themselves. They pop open the lid and gingerly take a small brownie into their clawed hands, eyeing it for a moment before popping the whole thing in their mouth and gulping it down. There’s a brief pause before their face lights up, and they start purring loudly enough for you to hear and somewhat feel. “Mint! You know how much I love mint! Thank you so much for this gift!” You’re about halfway through giving them a “You’re welcome” when they snatch you up, pulling you into another tight happy hug against their squishy belly. You truthfully didn’t mind their affection, they were a truly sweet dragon and their hugs were the best. You hadn’t noticed amidst their affection and deep, rumbling purrs, but they’re not letting go of you yet and they’ve started to sniff the top of your head a bit. “Huh...hey, you kind of smell all minty.” You look up at them sheepishly, telling them that you accidentally got some mint extract on yourself while making their birthday present. It was pretty potent, but at least you smelled pretty nice! They make a sort of chuff in response, their rumbling purrs dying down as they seem to be thinking about something. “Hey...can I ask for a favor? A birthday wish? You smell really good and I wanna...y’know…” They look a bit embarrassed, turning their head away from you while still peeking at you to see your response. You sigh but smile at them, nodding to give them the green light. You didn’t mind being eaten by them even though you fell asleep afterwards, the feeling of them purring all around you coupled with the belly rubs you often received, it was worthwhile and it made them happy. The purring starts up again as they pull you closer to their face, giving you an affectionate nuzzle before opening their mouth wide, warm minty breath rolling over you. You stay still as they stick your whole head in their maw, the purring instantly surrounding you. You giggle a bit as they lick your face, pulling you higher into their mouth to get more of that minty taste. A gulp sounds out, tugging part of you into their throat as they make a satisfied hum. Swallow after swallow brings you deeper into your friend, the sound of their heartbeat and happy purrs surrounding you. They’re strengthened by your gentle wriggling brought about by them licking you, but you make sure not to do it too much so you don’t harm them. A final swallow seals all of you inside of them, your small size compared to them makes you a pretty easy snack to polish off. At least they enjoyed you, as evidenced by the happy sigh they make as you slide comfortably into their spacious stomach. “Spacious” was a bit of a stretch as far as stomachs go since you still had to curl up a bit, but you had enough room to wiggle around. Well....had. The walls of Chubs’ stomach contracted to greet you, a loud growl sounding out as they started to gently rub against you. You wouldn’t be harmed of course, so you make yourself comfortable as you can feel them rubbing against you. Your eyes are already growing heavy as you can feel Chubs sprawl out and make another content sigh.

“Thanks for the brownies! And...yourself too! I think you tasted better than the brownies, ehehe~” You press out against their stomach and rub it a bit as a “You’re welcome,” settling down to nap for a bit.

#soft vore #safe vore #halfsize vore #pred is nonbinary!#i hope this is sweet enough heehee #Anonymous #vore fic

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dohmaverse · 4 years

Text

thank u murpho for these bountiful prompts

Clothing Preferences: Belvite Edition

Maverick: Always covered from the neck down & dresses in layers, loves a nice poncho & tassels & really any kind of patterned knit and living in a desert isn’t gonna stop him(it’s the Dysphoria). If he has to dress up for a formal event he opts for a modest dress over a suit(regrets wearing a tux to his wedding it was so fucking uncomfortable & awkward). Always wearing gloves(he’s sensitive about his weird hands). Wears long-sleeved night gowns to bed. Boots.

Lorant: No such thing as casual looks for him, he’s always wearing professional cuts of clothing, generally dress pants+dress shirt+vest, exclusively in soft pinks and greys and whites. The only deviation from looking like a pastel business boy is his enjoyment of cute ribbon-based ties & hairpieces, and pearl earrings. He’s very dedicated to his aesthetic. His pajamas are those button-up cotton sets in cute pastel patterns, sometimes with sleeping cap like a fucking cartoon character. Low-heeled dress shoes.

Gale: Athletic shirts & sweat pants all day every day. Has an attachment to compression materials, especially in his shirts(he got rid of his tiddys years ago but he still feels better with his chest ‘bound’). All his pants are loose & he never wears shorts because he’s sensitive about people seeing his prosthetic. There is no separation of clean & dirty clothes he will just pick up individual garments from the floor & sniff until he finds one that’s not overly funky. All of his shirts are black so he will always match no matter how loud & colorful his pants are. On formal occasions he has one of those t shirts with a tux graphic on the front & pairs it with his least-stained black sweatpants. He’s been wearing it for 17 years & it’s still funny(to him). Sleeps either nude or in whatever he was wearing that day, depending on whether he's sharing the bed or not ( ͡�� ͜ʖ ͡°). Sneakers.

Kenny: sleeveless shirts & cargo shorts, in various & often-clashing colors & patterns. In her edgy phase rn so her palette is more confined to red & black but it’s been pretty eyeburny over the years. Has a bolo tie that she wears EVERY DAY, doesn’t matter if her shirt doesn’t have a collar. Prefers a tux over a dress in formal settings & is a very handsome lil butch baby. Sleepwear is big t-shirts & basketball shorts. Ugly leather sandals, will throw a fit over having to wear closed-toe shoes.

Marta: Oh she loves a nice sweater dress w/ leggings. Really dresses like a teacher(2 steps above casual, but still mostly comfortable). Wears a lot of mustard yellow & dull green & maybe a burnt orange, just some nice autumnal tones. Has a pocket watch on a long chain she wears on a necklace most of the time. Formalwear i see her having a lot of different looks, mostly mid-cut dresses(always liked the idea of shorter dresses but never really had the nerve to get any). Pajamas are just soft shirts & pants, regular-ass pajama sets. Flats & slippers preferred for footwear but will wear heels once in a while(probably is just in her socks most of the time tho).

Hyaki: If She Covers Her Abs She Will Die, a lot of the time will just wear a sport bra for a shirt, maybe with a half-length vest or hoodie over it. Wears sturdy pants, usually denim or leather, and some good boots. Also knee pads just cuz Belles have weird nods to armor as a part of the general aesthetic. Will deign to cover her stomach at formal events only, but whatever dress she wears has a halter top so you can still see her HUGE BICEPS and RIPPLING BACK MUSCLE. Sleeps in her underwear usually.

Soleil: Fuckin, rompers. Has never been seen in an outfit that isn’t primarily yellow & black. Beanie at all times, probably a cool belt with a sword on it. She likes accessories, ok? Has a pair of those sneakers with wings on them & keeps them in As Pristine Condition As Possible, will fight you if you step on her shoes. Prefers to avoid formal events, but if she has to she’ll wear a jumpsuit or maybe a regular suit depending on her mood.

Tevyn: This bitch loves a sundress, just a nice light flowy thing that’s easy to move in, both because they’re cute & comfy AND because their form is kinda...wibbly(it’s not fun to start sprouting extra limbs & scales & feathers in restrictive clothing). Prefers vibrant, summery colors(orange & yellow & sky blue & white). Desperately wishes formal dresses weren’t exclusively made of fabrics with No Fucking Give to them, but as it is they have One formal outfit & it’s backless. Likes cute lacey pajamas that are like 1 step away from just being lingerie. Prefers not to wear shoes, but if forced will wear slip-ons.

Tobi: Just a basic bitch who wears graphic tees with wolves on them or polo shirts & khakis. I hate looking at him. Will wear a suit to work if he wants to be serious that day. Pajamas are nearly indistinguishable from his daywear, but he changes before bed so there must be some difference.

Buddy: Long sleeves + booty shorts. That is all. Has worn the same suit to every formal event he’s been to since he was 15, but if it’s a party he might just throw the suit top on with some shorts & thigh-high socks cuz he’s a thot. Passes out in whatever he’s wearing, which is usually just his underwear cuz he strips down the moment he enters his house. Has a few pairs of shoes but prefers his purple rain boots.

#oc stuff #maverick #lorant #kenny #gale #marta #hyaki #soleil #tevyn #tobi #buddy #Can you tell i have one singular pair of shoes & can't really conceive of having multiple to choose from #text

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lamujerarana · 5 years

Note

37, Spideytorch

Johnny has decided that he loathes high-society charity parties. The only reason he ever goes to them is because he’s an awesome younger brother and he wants to support his older sister.

It’s totally not because she’s completely intimidating and he’s a little bit afraid of her when she’s pissed because she makes him do things like cleaning the hangar bay with a toothbrush, just because he played an amazingly hilarious prank on Ben that left a huge mess, and she didn’t think it was funny. It’s not his fault that Sue has zero sense of humor. It’s just a curse he has to bear.

Sue’s been going through this big philanthropy kick these days, so Johnny’s had to attend so many of these parties, and he hates every second of being at them. He wonders if making him go to these things is maybe her way of paying him back for being a pain in her ass, but no. Sue would never stoop so low. He thinks.

He supposes Sue’s obsession with these charities probably has something more to do with the fact that the FF are all famous and rich now, and what you do when you’re rich and powerful and famous is use all of that influence to help other people. He’s glad Sue’s into this, he really is, especially since it means he doesn’t have to be.

All he has to do is go where she tells him and smile when she says to and look pretty for the cameras. Which he’s very good at.

When Sue told him that this party was a themed costume party — pirates, specifically — Johnny’d cheered. At least that was fun. He spent a month working with one of the most famous designers in New York on making the sexiest pirate costume anyone’s ever seen.

He thinks he was pretty successful, judging by the angry shade of red Sue’s face had turned when she saw his amazingly sexy outfit and the way Reed and Ben had face-palmed and then spent most of the trip over here looking like they really wanted to gouge their own eyes out.

He knows they all still think of him as being somewhere around five years old, but he is nineteen years old and everyone who isn’t Ben, Reed, and Sue thinks he’s totally hot.

What, like their costumes are any better. Ben’s dressed like Blackbeard, of course, because he really is the historical Blackbeard (Johnny’s sure that’s all he’s going to be talking about all night, so he’s already made plans to steer clear), Reed’s wearing a lot of frills and lace and Johnny thinks that’s a feather, and it’s just not cool at all, even though he does look unfairly good in it, and Sue’s dressed like someone named Anne…something.

She could’ve dressed up like a pirate wench with tons of cleavage, but no. She is dressed like a dude.

This is why Johnny has to bear the burden of being the hottest person in the family alone. Sue could be hot if she tried, but she really doesn’t try.

Sue’s still mad that she didn’t get to go back in time and meet real pirates like the rest of them. Johnny can tell. The fact that she’s still mad is probably why she made this party pirate-themed in the first place. It’s been four years, and she should get over it, Johnny thinks.

Johnny pops another caviar-covered cracker into his mouth, and then he makes a face. God, he hates caviar. It’s so slimy.

Why can’t they ever have, like, mini-hot dogs or burgers at these things? He’ll have to suggest that to Sue for next time.

His eyes wander through the crowd, and then he sighs, disappointed. Everyone here must be over forty. They’re so old. And none of them are hot.

This is why he hates these parties.

He perks up, however, when he spots that editor, J. Jonah Jameson, who is old and wrinkly and so not hot, but he is accompanied by a brunet photographer who most definitely is young, smoking, and just Johnny’s type. His back is toward Johnny so he can’t really see his face, but what he sees is great.

The photographer is wearing pantaloons, a bandana on his head, and a green vest with nothing underneath, and it’s a good look, Johnny decides, especially when the guy turns around, because, man, oh man, his abs are amazing.

Johnny promises himself that he’s gonna put his mouth on those before the night is through. He has a goal, and he is determined.

His eyes flick up to the guy’s face, and he winces. Aw, crap. That’s Peter Parker, that nerd Johnny’s ex-girlfriend Dorrie always used to go on about (“he’s so smart and responsible and better than you in every way imaginable,” is what Dorrie’s snide comments had typically amounted to), and who Johnny has understandably come to hate.

Who the hell knew that he was built like that under those awful sweater vests? Or that his face was actually not terrible underneath those very unflattering glasses and that gross haircut?

He’s filled out in the shoulders since Johnny saw him last, which was probably about a year ago. Johnny hired Peter to follow him around and take photos of him, and it’d ended badly, to say the least. Johnny had gone bald after he got frozen during a fight with Doom and that jackass Spider-Man had chipped all of Johnny’s hair off, and Johnny hadn’t been able to show his face in public for a month.

Spider-Man probably loved the whole thing, that jerk.

Johnny kind of doesn’t want to go talk to Peter because he knows it’ll be awkward given that Peter’s, like, his former employee, but also there’s no one else to flirt with, so he might as well give it a shot.

He weaves through the crowd and taps Peter on one of his nice, broad, muscly shoulders. Peter’s busy taking pictures of the crowd, which means he’s probably working or something, and he’ll probably be glad that Johnny’s brightening his day.

Peter’s eyes widen when he sees Johnny’s standing there, and then they narrow. Well, that’s not a good sign, but Johnny is nothing if not determined.

“Hey,” Johnny says, flashing his most charming smile at Peter, the one that makes all the girls and guys go weak in the knees, guaranteed, “what brings you here?”

Peter’s knees disappointingly do not go weak. “I’m working, Torch,” he says flatly. “Go bug someone else.”

Johnny would, but there’s no one else worth bugging. “Geez,” he says. “What’s got you so upset?”

Peter looks at Johnny as though he can’t quite believe him. “You never paid me for those photos I took of you.”

“Didn’t I?” Johnny says. “My bad. Send me the bill.”

“I did. You didn’t pay it.”

“Oh,” Johnny says. “I don’t really check my mail. Send it to my sister. She’ll pay it. She’s all…” He waves his hand around. “…responsible, and stuff.”

“All right,” Peter says, and then he mumbles something about how he could really use the cash.

Peter goes back to snapping pictures like the conversation is over, and he seems surprised when he realizes that Johnny’s still standing there. “Uh,” he says. “Was there something else?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” He might as well go for it, he supposes. He holds out a hand and says, “Wanna dance?”

Peter’s eyes narrow at the hand Johnny’s stretching out. He gestures toward the camera he is holding in his hands. “I’m working, Torch. For people who actually pay me at the end of the night.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna pay you. It’s not like I can’t afford it.” He wiggles his hand at Peter. “C’mon. You must get breaks or something.”

“I just got here. So no, not yet.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Well, when do you get a break, and will you dance with me then?”

Peter glances over at Johnny as though he’s trying hard to figure something out. “Why are you so interested in dancing with me?”

“Well,” Johnny says, “in case you haven’t noticed, everyone else here is like eighty.”

“Ah,” Peter says, like it’s all making sense now, “so you’re desperate and I’m literally the only option you have. Figures.”

“It’s not like that,” Johnny says, scowling. “You…look better than I remember you looking.”

Peter shoots him a wry look. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You have abs,” Johnny says. “They’re nice. And the new haircut is an improvement. And I’m glad you lost those glasses. You look…not terrible.”

Peter looks amused. “Are you saying you actually think I’m hot?”

“I’m saying I don’t think you’re…not hot.”

Peter snorts. “Oh, wow. I’m so flattered.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Fine!” he says grumpily. “You’re totally hot, and will you dance with me?”

Peter looks at Johnny as though he can’t quite believe Johnny just said that. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I told you your abs were nice,” Johnny shrugs. “What did you think I meant?”

“I don’t…know?”

“You should consider never wearing a shirt again,” Johnny says. “You’ve got the abs, might as well show them off.”

“I don’t think that’s practical, Torch.”

“It’s good fashion advice.”

Peter’s eyes flick down. “Says the man in striped hot pants.”

“I look hot,” Johnny sniffs. “Admit it.”

Peter doesn’t say anything.

“Ha!” Johnny crows. “You do think I look hot!”

“Your abs are…nice,” Peter says, and Johnny’s pretty sure he’s trying not to smile.

“I know,” Johnny says, preening. “So does this mean you’ll dance with me?”

“Yeah, fine. Just. Don’t let my boss see us, yeah?”

Johnny tries not to smile too gleefully as Peter takes his hand and leads him toward the dance floor.

This is turning out to be a better night than he thought it’d be.

#spideytorch #my fic #asks #motomenorahkent

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darley1101 · 6 years

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Friendaversary Part 5

A/N I know that @blackcatkita and I keep saying how grateful we are that all of you are enjoying our fun little adventure with our favorite The Royal Romance characters but...we can't help it! We've had so much fun doing this and seeing that it brings joy to others makes it even more fun. If you are new be sure to check out the first three parts of the story! Part one (written by myself) Part Two (written by blackcatkita) Part Three (written by myself) Part Four (written by blackcatkita)

tagging: @blackcatkita @josieschoices @endlessly-searching-for-you @eileendannie @silviasutton1989 @captainkingliam @umccall71 @theroyalweisme @woshisilvia @boneandfur @never-ending-choices @bobasheebaby @mrsnazario1223 @mariamatsuo @jamielea81 @gardeningourmet @trianiasti @madaraism @kawairinrin @jlouise88 @clonedhayden

Part Five

word count: 897

“Oh, hello Madeleine...”

Jennifer tried to hide the disappoint in her voice. Really, she did. Keeping how she felt to herself had never been one of her strong suits though and she knew from the nervous way Madeleine was shifting from one foot to the other that the other woman had picked up on her disappointment. The shorter blonde darted her green eyes between Maxwell and Jennifer before finally settling on Maxwell. “I told you that she wouldn't want me here,” she bit out in a low voice, a wounded expression on her face as she goes to hand the gift bag to Maxwell.

“No,” Jennifer shook her head, stepping between the two. She'd made her peace with Madeleine a long time ago and while she wasn't as close to her as she was Hana or even Olivia, she did consider herself friendly with Liam's former fiancee. Madeleine was the sort of friend who could come up with a dozen ways to diplomatically tell a person to fuck off; it was hard not to grow to like someone like that. “I do want you here. I just...” she let out a sigh and raised her hands, palms facing up. “I thought Liam was going to be here. He's been so busy lately and I got a wee bit excited thinking he'd be here.”

“A wee bit?” Olivia snorted. “You bounced around like a kangaroo on crack.”

“Like I said,” Jennifer shot Olivia a hard look, “he's been busy and I haven't seen much of him lately.”

Madeleine delicately chewed her lower lip. “Well, if you're sure you want me here...” Jennifer nodded, smiling sweetly. She truly did want Madeleine along. It seemed like Madeleine loosened up a little bit more each time she hung out with the group. One day she would really let her hair down, Jennifer just knew it. “If you're sure you want me here, then I am glad to be here.”

“Of course you're wanted,” Maxwell grinned. “Now, you have something to give Jennifer, don't you?”

“Gimme,” Jennifer lunging for the bag only to have Madeleine hold it out of reach.

“Before I give this to you, I would like for it to go on the record that I was given very strict guidelines and it was difficult to find something tasteful within those guidelines so I apologize in advance.”

Oh boy. Whatever was in that bag had to be good if Madeleine was apologizing in advance. Jennifer snatched the bag from Madeleine's hands and reached inside. “Oh. My. God.”

“I did warn you,” Madeleine groaned. “I tried to tell Maxwell-”

“This is the cutest thing ever!” Jennifer held up a chauffeurs outfit that could only be meant for Chance. And that could only mean one thing. Her precious little puppers was nearby. “Where is he? Where's my Chancey?”

“He's over there,” Madeleine nodded in the direction of the circular drive that surrounded the picnic grounds.

For the first time since arriving, Jennifer notices a familiar white limo parked near the front of the palace. Next to it stands an equally familiar man in a stuffy looking sweater vest and pleated slacks. “Bertrand,” she calls, racing towards him. He doesn't seem to hear. His focus is on the small cream and tan dog at his feet. Jennifer feels both her brows shoot up. Was Bertrand really teaching Chance how to high five? Because it so looked like Bertrand was teaching Chance to high five.

“I can't believe you left the dog with Bertrand,” Drake drawled. “Doesn't he hate dogs?”

“Oh,” Maxwell shook his head. “No. He loves them. Don't tell him I said anything, but he's been secretly teaching Chance tricks. I think it is a surprise for today.”

Or, Jennifer smirked, Bertrand just enjoyed spending time with her sweet, little puppers. “Isn't this cozy,” she teased as the group approached. Bertrand straightened and thrust out Chance's leash.

“Here. Take it. I've bore its presence for much longer than Maxwell promised.” Bertrand shot his younger brother a steely look. “The least you could have done was inform me you were going to be longer than half an hour. You left me here with this creature and no litter. There's a gift for you, from him, near that bush. I suggest you take care of it before the Queen Mother finds it.” He let out a little sniff and scowled when Chance pawed at his shoe, holding up one paw. “Not now,” he whispered to the dog before looking at Jennifer. “The clue is in the limo.”

Jennifer squealed and then yanked open the back door. There, on the seat, was a bakery box...

#choices #choices trr

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theveniceangel · 3 years

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Curse Of The Weregoof Chapter 1

Our story begins, in the humble town, that is Mouseton. *The town of Mouseton is seen* It was a quiet town, filled with positive people, and happy faces. *A rustic, cabin is seen* But the most positive of it's citizens, was a dog, named Goofy *Goofy is seen, sleeping in his bed* Goofy: *He snores loudly* Out of all the people in Mouseton, he is always, happy, and full of energy. Goofy: *He turns over* I said, he's always full of energy!! Goofy: *His eyes open wide* Whoa!! *yawns* *He rubs his eyes* *He grabs his alarm clock* Mornin' already..? Gawrsh! I'm gonna miss out, on the rest of the day! *He jumps out of bed* *Outside of the cabin* *A lot of crashing, and clanking is heard* Goofy: *He walks out of the cabin, wearing his usual orange sweater, black vest, blue pants, and signature, green hat* Much better. *He starts walking down the street* Horace: *He's walking down the street* *He lifts up his hat* Good Mornin' Goofy! Goofy: Good Mornin' Horace, how's Clarabelle? Horace: She's never been better. Goofy: You two still, happily married? Horace: Yep Goofy: *chuckles* Good to hear. Horace: Where might you be headin'? Goofy: Kylie's house. Horace: Ok, well tell her I said hi. Goofy: Will do! *He walks away* Horace: Bye Goofy! *Somewhere In Mouseton* *A white, simple looking, house, with a teal roof is seen* *Kylie is seen, making breakfast* Kylie: *She sniffs the eggs* *She sighs dreamily* I love the smell, of scrambled eggs... *She puts the eggs, on a plate with toast, with butter on both sides* Heavenly.. *The phone starts ringing* Kylie: Huh? Wonder who that could be. *She walks towards the phone, and picks it up* Y'ello? Minnie: Hey Kylie! Kylie: Minnie? Daisy: Hi! Kylie: Daisy? Minnie: How are you doing Kylie? Kylie: Well... I'm doing alright, I was just-- Daisy: Great! Kylie: *She jumps up, in fear* Flippin'! Daisy: You see, me and Minnie have been doing some planning, and we're thinking about having a girls night, tonight! Kylie: Really!? Minnie, and Daisy: Yes!! Kylie: Holy fudgrama, on a stick!! Minnie: Will you be there? Kylie: Heck yes I'll be there!! Minnie, Daisy, and Kylie: *They all squeal, in delight* Daisy: See you tonight! Kylie: Bye girls! *She hangs up* Oh my gosh! What a great start to a day! *A mug of hot chocolate, with whipped cream, marshmallows, and a chocolate drizzle on top is seen* Kylie: *She picks it up, and walks towards the table* Man..Life can't get any bet-- *A knock at the door is heard* Kylie: Who could that be? *She puts the mug on the table, and walks towards the door* *She opens the door* Goofy: *He's standing outside* Hiya Kylie! Kylie: *giggles* Hi Goofy. Goofy: What'cha doin'? Kylie: I was about to eat breakfast. Goofy: Gawrsh, hope I wasn't interruptin' ya. Kylie: Oh no no! It's perfectly fine Goof, if anything, I'm glad you came. Goofy: Really? Kylie: Mhm. *She smiles at him* Goofy: *He smiles brightly* Aww.. Gawrsh! *He hugs her* Kylie: *grunts* Goofy: You always know what to say! Kylie: *giggles* Thanks Goofy... Goofy: *He clears his throat* Hmm...Say Kylie, how 'bout we do somethin' together? Kylie: Uh...Like just you, and me? Goofy: Yeppers! Kylie: *She chuckles a little* Sure, I'd love that.. Goofy: What do ya say, we go for a walk in the woods? Kylie: Ok, when? Goofy: Tonight. Kylie: *Her face goes pale* T-T-T-Tonight!? Goofy: Mhm! Kylie: Uh..... Goofy: *A look of concern, appears on his face* Is that a bad time, for ya? Kylie: Oh no no no! That's a perfect time! *She chuckles nervously* Goofy: Hmm......Ok then! See ya tonight. *He walks away* Kylie: *groans* Now I have to choose between the girls, and...Goofy... *sighs* Well I'm gonna eat breakfast first, it's not wise to think, on an empty stomach. *She goes inside, and closes the door* Little did they know, that this very night, would be the start of something that would change their lives, drastically..... (To be continued....)

Mickey And Friends belongs to Disney

Kylie Dear belongs to Me.

#disney #mickey and friends #goofy goof #Kylie Dear #werewolf #Curse Of The Weregoof #Werewolf Goofy

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aloysiavirgata · 7 years

Text

Madeleine

Title: Madeleine

Rating: PG

Timeline: Home Again

Category: MSR

Summary:For the anon who asked: Since you mentioned it, Drabble of Mulder finding Scully's Darkness Falls jacket while they are in an established relationship?

***

"And so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die."

Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past

***

They've been going through the storage room for hours, marveling at the sheer volume of items her mother had held onto. Grandmother Scully’s old dining room set (“Missy threw up pumpkin pie all over it in front of Bill’s first girlfriend”), boxes of trophies, prom pictures bright with taffeta and blue eyeshadow.

There are so many objects, so many minor artifacts that tell the story of a life. The rooms smells musty with cardboard and old paper, the still air making her think of bubbles in amber. She wishes her father’s bay rum aftershave were bottled somewhere, or her mother’s scent; a comforting mix of Jergen’s cherry-almond lotion and wood polish. There are old cookbooks, but the crumbling pages are far removed from warm trays of pecan tassies and Yankee pot roast. Scully dusts off a framed family portrait, she and her siblings smiling with their bowl cuts and polyester. She studies herself, chin tipped up, ribbon streamer barrettes in her hair. “Yikes,” she says. “Maggie loved the double-knit.”

Mulder peers over her shoulder, his presence a comfort in this bittersweet place. “Groovy turtleneck for Bill. And is that Holly Hobbie on Melissa?”

She returns the picture to the box of sports pennants and yearbooks. “What am I going to do with all of this?” She feels overwhelmed by this aftermath, the endless decisions that have poured in through the Maggie-shaped hole in the world.

Mulder stacks boxes of yellowing paperbacks by the entrance.“We’ll call movers to take it to the Goodwill, Scully. Don’t let yourself get stressed about this.”

Weary, she sinks into a horsehair sofa she remembers playing on as a kid. She and Charlie had saddled the arched back with towels and declared it a camel. She looks up at Mulder for guidance, trying to recall what he had done in her place.

He shrugs. “Keep the pictures, donate the rest. I'm guessing you don't want boxes of old teeth, or your science fair trophies. You nerd.”

“Hey, I did some groundbreaking research on the maze solving abilities of obese hamsters.”

“I hope you published.”

She tightens her ponytail, resolute. “I should at least weed out the trash before I call the Goodwill. Here, what's that big box behind the breakfront?”

Mulder clambers over a coffee table. “DANA SKI CLOTHES,” he calls in a deep voice. “She wrote it all in caps, so I want to convey appropriate gravitas.”

Ski clothes? She hasn't been skiing since-

“Ohhhh,” she groans. “That can definitely go.”

“Well now I'm curious,” Mulder says, with his usual contrariness.

Scully hears tape ripping from cardboard.

“Oh, wow. Scully, somewhere in Williamsburg is a hipster just waiting for this sweet loot.” He removes a pair of purple snow pants with overall straps and elastic ankles. “You sure this isn't the bottom half of a Barney costume?”

She throws a half-deflated football at him. “You know, I seem to recall a few fashion gaffes of yours in the early 90’s too, pal.”

“Mine were never so puffy. And since when do you ski, anyway?”

“I don't,” she demurs. “That's why it's all in a box.”

Mulder pulls on the bright pink goggles and grins at her. “Rose colored glasses.”

“They're all yours, Pollyanna.”

He rummages further, removing a stack of garish sweaters fit for Bill Cosby. “Pink ski goggles, pink and green gloves, argyle scarf... Scully, this is all very coordinated. You bought this special. Who took you skiing?”

She sighs. “Jack Willis.”

Mulder looks up, surprised. “Really?”

A shrug. “Things were serious for a bit, I guess.” She remembers that weekend now, clumsy on her skis while Jack engaged in shameless frottage as he showed her how to balance. Not unlike Mulder and his hips before hands nonsense, really. Scully smiles to herself.

Mulder tries to jam his hands into the gloves, but there's not a chance. He opts for the green hat instead. “Hey, I remember this jacket. You wore it on a case in the woods I think, right? The Mothman thing?”

She tries to remember, but is distracted by Mulder in her ridiculous pompom hat and goggles. “I think I did. It was….hmm. Not the Mothman. It was those, uh, the glowy bugs? The cocoon things?”

Mulder brightens. “That's the one! That was wild.”

Wild, sure. Another case, another hospital stay. She catches the jacket when Mulder tosses it. It smells stale, and the cuffs are dirty. She remembers herself in those lonely woods now, the disappearing light and the collective fear that grew in the dark. She was young and untried but Mulder was there and, even then, something in his presence conveyed comfort. She remembers awaking in bandages, her skin burned from strange enzymes, but feeling safe nonetheless. Alive, in her youth, equalled safe. She went into the woods with him back then, time and again into the waiting mouths of fairy-tale forests. She longs for the confidence of her younger self, the boldness that comes before life has yet to deal a truly terrible blow. Scully sniffs the jacket again and imagines that she can smell pine and the gas for the generator.

“Put it on,” he says. “Throwback Thursday.”

“It's Saturday,” she says, reluctant. She feels like a snake trying to wriggle back into a shed skin.

Mulder straddles a dining chair, pouting.

“Fine,” she says, tugging the vibrant, oversized thing on over her gray hoodie. “These colors are absolutely jarring. Some kind of pre-millennial Bacchanal of fashion, I guess.”

Mulder is smiling.

“What?” she asks suspiciously. Her eyes narrow.

“Nothing, it's cute. You just need some bangs now and it would be like no time has passed.” His voice is wistful.

Scully stands to zip the coat. It sags off of her shoulders, the drawstring bunching up large wads of fabric. “Ugh, I was so...amorphous then.” She remembers her round face with that awful haircut, her shapeless flannels and mom jeans. She wishes someone had told her what she looked like.

“You were voluptuous. I remember having that distinct thought.” He mimes an hourglass figure in the air.

She rolls her eyes, flopping back on the couch. The coat makes a rustling sound. “You just wanted to get laaaaid.”

“Well, yes. But by you, specifically.”

She is surprised. “No you didn't. Did you? Then?”

Mulder shrugs, pushing the goggles up his forehead. “You came into my hotel room that first night. I remembered what was under all your tapestry vests and rectangular suits.”

“Perv.”

“Pretty much.” Mulder puts the clothing back into the box. “You wanna keep this and go skiing sometime? I'd hate to live in Willis’s shadow.”

Scully reaches out to a box on the floor, withdrawing a handprint Christmas ornament from her nephew. She makes a mental note to send it to Bill. “Nah. Antarctica was enough.”

Mulder’s face darkens. “That whole thing was-”

She holds her palm up to silence him. “It’s in the past, Mulder. Glowing bugs and Mothmen and Antarctica and all of it. It’s done.”

Mulder looks dubious, but adds nothing further. He puts on a pair of Mickey Mouse ears. “A-G-E, N-T-S, C-U-L-L-Y,” he sings in a squeaky voice.

Scully wrinkles her nose. “Come here,” she says, patting the couch. Mulder picks his way through the room, sitting next to her. He lays down on his side, legs tucked up, and rests his head on her lap. His warm breath bleeds through her yoga pants.

“This jacket is comfy,” he says. “Keep it.”

Scully twines her fingers through his hair, tracing the curve of his ear, the stubble at his cheekbone. She snaps the elastic band holding the Mickey ears on.

“Ow!”

She laughs. “You baby.”

He turns to his other side so that he is facing her. He looks up, his pupils dilated in the dim light. The plastic ears are preposterous and adorable. “I didn’t think it would all be like this,” he tells her. His voice is thick.

She presses her lips together. “It’s okay.” What else can she say, really? It’s not particularly okay, but it’s bearable. Most things, she has learned, are bearable.

“Let’s take a vacation,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. He snuggles against the jacket.

She laughs. “You really want to go skiing.”

“Mmm, no. Not skiing. You remember when we went to Turks and Caicos after Christian’s surgery? Let’s go back.”

She remembers it well. Sapphire skies and topaz water. Mulder had pretty much vetoed her packing anything other than shorts and bikinis. She still has the silk wrap she bought there, and her mind has already conjured up remembered sunsets and dolphins and waterfall hikes.

“Mulder,” she sighs, which is hardly a protest.

“Come on, I have a birthday coming up.” He bats his lashes, which are longer than hers.

She thumbs his lips. “No you don’t.”

“I will later. Come on. My treat, huh? We’ll find a place where Daggoo can stay too. I know how you feel about kennels.” His smile is lopsided.

“Okay,” she says, as they both knew she would.

She is too warm now, Mulder radiating body heat against the puffy coat she’s swaddled in. “Sit up.” He does, removing the Mickey ears. Scully wriggles out of the jacket.

“Hoodie too,” Mulder suggests. “Don’t want you overheating.”

She considers him, his sleepy eyes and messy haystack of hair. His jeans are slouchy at his hips, navy blue t-shirt with a SEE ROCK CITY graphic on it. She takes her hoodie off, and there is nothing under it.

Mulder pats his thighs. “Turnabout is fair play,” he says.

Scully lies down with her head on the soft denim of his worn jeans. He traces infinite circles on her back with his callused fingertips. He hums tunelessly, smoothing her hair away to massage her neck with his thumbs.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, doesn’t remember him carrying her to the back of his truck, where she wakes with her sweatshirt under her head and the ski jacket tucked around her.

#x files fanfic #xf fic #msr #s10 #my fic

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uncaaj · 6 years

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From the City of St. Canard #10 - Nyquil

READ ON AO3!

“AAAAACHOOOO!” Drake Mallard sneezed for what felt like the 12,000th time. He pulled his two blanket closer to his chin and slumped on the couch, sinking into the cushions as far as he could muster. His sinuses were clogged, his throat was grungy and grimy, and his head throbbed with the heat of his fever.

Yep, this was certainly one monster cold he was suffering with. He’d have to thank Isis Vanderchill when she got out of the St. Canard Penitentiary for the Criminally Crafty.

Launchpad took his eyes off the TV and gave Drake a concerned look. “Are you doing alright, DW?”

“I don’t know, LP. Between my head wanting to explode, my makeshift cocoon here, and the fact that I sound like Negaduck (the fiend…), how do you think I feel?” he spat at his friend without even realizing how vile he sounded.

“I guess not that good,” Launchpad muttered, then promptly scooted closer to the armrest.

Drake immediately realized his sarcastic nature had gotten the better of him and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Launchpad. It’s not your fault. I’m just not in the best of moods tonight.” As he said this, he grabbed a tissue from the side table and proceeded to blow his beak very loudly. He was not feeling good, a fact that every neighbor of his was now aware of. And this rerun of Pelican’s Island was not helping matters.

Seriously, how on earth did it last TWELVE seasons?

Drake eased himself off the couch and stretched. “I’m going to take some cold medicine and go to bed.”

A red flag went off in Launchpad’s brain when he heard “cold medicine”. “A-are you sure that’s a good idea, DW? I know you’re not feeling good, but you know what it does to you.”

“I don’t care what it does to me,” he snorted as he waddled out of the living room, “I’m so stuffed up I can’t even breathe. A…AAAAACHOOOO!” As he reached the stairs, the force of the sneeze sent him flying backwards and into a table of vases. As the table clattered to the floor, the two colorful vases tumbled off and hit Drake on the head before meeting the floor with a loud crash. He jumped up and grumbled all the way to the second floor of the house. Launchpad watched him ascend in a huff and shook his head as he returned his view to the TV.

Drake pushed open the bathroom door, which was already open a crack, and immediately went to the medicine cabinet to grab the nighttime cold medicine. He fished out two caplets from the box and popped them in his mouth without thinking. He sniffed hard, trying to clear his passages but to no avail. This intense sniff however caused him to sneeze, and the caplets escaped his mouth with the rushing air and mucus. He saw them bounce off the sink bottom and straight up in the air. He tried to reach for them in midair, but his fingers missed them with each swipe, and the green pills dropped once again into the sink, and rolled their way down the drain.

Great. Just great.

With another sniff and an exasperated sigh, Drake grabbed two more pills from the box. He filled a cup of water at the sink and dropped the pills into the half-full cup. They floated like buoys and were transferred into Drake’s body as he gulped the entire cupful down. Not bothering to put the box of cold medicine back where he found it, he exited the bathroom and trudged next door to his bedroom, the whole experience making him more tired. He didn’t even bother to change out of his signature pink button-up shirt and checkered green sweater vest. He simply slithered into his bed and snuggled under the covers as deep as he could go.

As he lay there, he began to ponder the medicine dissolving in his stomach and what Launchpad had said earlier. All he knew about the medicine’s effect on him was what Launchpad had told him the next day the last time he had a cold. Apparently, he had done some unusual things.

He and Launchpad had debated the merits of putting meat before cheese on sandwiches, he drove to see a man about their air conditioner while being so delirious, he could be DUI, and he even went to the Muddlefoots, willingly, and invited himself over for dinner when he realized all meals to that point had been absentmindedly skipped. Of course none of this was remembered the next day when he awoke on the Muddlefoots’ couch.

He had inferred it had something to do with the way the cough suppressant affected his brain. Despite this, he meant it when he said he didn’t care. He was frustrated at how congested he was left after his last adventure, and any relief from his feverish, disgusting state was worth any side effects that would come upon him. Drake coughed a thoroughly wet cough, rolled over onto his side and began to think about the clear nose and regained energy he’d have in the morning. The sunset outside bathed his room in a faint orange glow as he let sleep overtake him.

When he awoke, the midday sun lit up his room and Launchpad was sitting beside his bed. He sniffed the air through his now clear nasal passages and looked at his phone. His eyes bugged out when he noticed it was Thursday. It should have been Wednesday.

Drake looked at his pilot with dismay on his face. “It happened again, didn’t it?” he squeaked.

“It sure did!” Launchpad smiled.

Drake slapped his forehead, feeling his headache returning. “Hoo boy…”

He couldn’t WAIT to hear about this.

#darkwing duck #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #from the city of st canard #fanfiction #bluejay fanfiction #aj tries to write #nyquil #medicine #weird drake has a weird mind #ducktales

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freezing-kaiju · 7 years

Text

Monster Watch Chapter 3: A Good Team

[symbra, widowtracily, pharmercy]

1987

Angel Falls, Washington

It was a cold night. Rain was pouring down in torrents. The streetlamps cast their orange light on the slippery sidewalks. The few pedestrians walking the streets were shivering under their umbrellas and raincoats.

Sombra was shivering too, but not from the cold. She never felt the cold. She ran down the sidewalk, desperately trying to run faster, just a little faster. Tears streamed down her face, never hitting the ground or even falling from her cheeks. And yet… below those crying eyes was a smile.

Satya. The name echoed through her mind.

How could she have forgotten? What happened to her when she died to make her forget? What had happened to Satya?

But none of that mattered right now. She was going to see her again.

Eventually, Sombra arrived at the library. It was a stately building, with brick walls and several gargoyles perched on the roof, but Sombra didn’t have time nor patience to admire the architecture. She phased through the door and floated towards the ceiling, which was supported by four large marble columns, heading for the trapdoor from before.

But when she tried to phase through, she just bumped against it. Por supuesto, Sombra thought. Ella es una bruja. It only makes sense that she'd have magic wards on her front door. Frustrated, she kicked the door.

Sombra heard footsteps above her. She heard Satya say, “WHO DARES…”

“Satya?” Sombra said, voice half a sob.

She heard a gasp and the trapdoor swung open. Without hesitating, she flew through the open space, making sure she was fully materialized, and bowled into Satya.

They embraced and crashed to the ground, sobbing.

“It’s… * sniff * it’s been so long,” Satya said, her voice quavering. “I thought you were gone forever...”

“Mi amor… You look as beautiful as i remembered,” Sombra said. “Almost like no time passed at all.”

And they lay there, holding each other tight, looking into each others’ eyes, and weeping with joy, finally reunited after so many years.

The next morning, over at Emily and Lena’s house, Emily was in the process of making breakfast. Amelie was eying the bacon she was frying hungrily, while Lena, already dressed and wearing a trucker hat, was staring at a toaster, impatiently waiting for her toast.

“You know, love, looking at it isn’t gonna make it toast faster,” Emily said.

Lena frowned. “Can too.”

The toaster promptly dinged.

“HA! See? I told you!” Lena did a little dance and yanked the toast out of the toaster, putting one piece in her mouth and the other in her vest pocket.

Emily smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m off to work,” Lena said with a sigh, picking up her lunchbox and toolkit and heading to the door.

“Bye, love,” Emily said, “Don’t let Jamison drive you up the wall.”

“I’ll try.” Lena said, running over and giving Emily a peck on the cheek. “Cheers, love!”

Emily smiled and waved goodbye as Lena ran out the door and to her van.

As she drove off, Amelie asked, “Pardonez-moi, but what exactly is Lena’s profession?”

“She’s a car mechanic. It’s how she’s managed to keep that rubbish van of hers working.”

The bacon finished frying and Emily placed it on a plate, arranging three serving plates on the table and a place setting for both her and Amelie.

Emily took two waffles, a sausage, and a serving of hash browns, Amelie immediately covered her plate in bacon and sausages.

“Will I rant a bit about something?” Emily asked.

Amelie, in the process of shoveling bacon into her mouth, answered, “Why not? I think of myself as a good listener.” She had learned in her years on the run to listen to everything and take in as much information as possible.

“Right then,” Emily said. “Personally, I don’t exactly see why the Sixth Doctor was so reviled. His seasons didn’t have the best writing, sure, but I blame that mostly on the execs over at the BBC. They gave him so little to work with, but I says Colin sure made the best of it. His outfit was great, I loved his snark,a nd he really brought something new to the character of the Doctor. Now Seven,” -and here Emily gestured to her sweater, a pattern of red question marks and green zigzags- “he’s a great one, I’m somewhat glad they got rid of Six. He acts like a grandfather, goofy and doting, but he’s a smart one as well, always two steps ahead of his enemies. But yeah, they’re my favorites. Still miss Four a bit, but what can ya do.”

Amelie stared blankly at her for a few seconds. Emily could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“Mon ami, that sounds fascinating, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Emily was flabbergasted. “The Doctor! You know, Doctor Who? The police box? Daleks? The Master? Jelly babies? Sonic screwdrivers?”

Amelie shook her head.

Emily’s eyes lit up. “Well then, I believe I know what we’re going ta do today!” She jumped up from her chair and grabbed Amelie’s arm, leading her into the living room.

Back at the library, an hour or so later, Sombra and Satya were getting caught up.

“So… Has anything important changed with you?” Sombra asked.

“Well, I gained some weight,” Satya said, gesturing at her midsection and generally chubby form. “I have chalked it up to lack of exercise and my own cooking.”

“You look beautiful, mi amor,” Sombra said reassuringly.

“Come to think of it, how come you haven’t aged?

Satya shrugged. “I don’t exactly know, but I have a theory. I tried to bring you back to life, the night you died. It failed; I said the words wrong, I missed a key ingredient, something along those lines. Point is that I failed. But seeing you here… maybe I succeeded in part. Maybe the residual life magic from that spell caught onto some strong emotion from you and brought you back. The spell was intended to bind two souls to each other, make our lives bound together. And that part must have succeeded; since you can’t age as a ghost, I have not aged either.”

“Makes sense,” Sombra said. She thought for a few seconds before another question came to mind. If anyone could answer this, it was Satya.

“Refresh my memory. How and why did I die?”

Satya looked down and shrugged. “I don’t know. We were dancing, you were laughing, and then suddenly you were choking, and y-you c-c-collapsed, and…” Satya trailed off, beginning to tear up. “S-sorry, it’s * sniff* it’s a traumatic memory for me.”

Sombra hugged Satya. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m still here.” Sombra mulled over this information as she consoled her girlfriend. She had noticed a long time ago that her cause of death wasn’t obvious, but to learn that nobody else knew disquieted her. It looked like a mystery… and she liked mysteries.

After a few minutes, Satya wiped her arm across her face. “All right, I’m better now.” Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration.

“I have an experiment I want to try out. Wait here.”

Satya ran into one of the back rooms. Sombra could hear the sound of things being shuffled through, metal clinking on metal, and drawers being opened and shut. Finally, Satya ran back out, carrying with a large pair of goggles. They were made of some sort of black metal, and had silver dials on the sides. The lenses seemed to shine with an otherworldly light.

“These are soulsense goggles. They let people figure out why a ghost came back. Usually used by ghost busters, but I’m just curious as to why you’re here. When I look through these, you’re gonna look like a specific color related to why you came back. Dark red for revenge, bright red for anger, light blue for magic, dark blue for misery, purple for love, etc.”

Satya snapped the goggles on and stared intently at Sombra. After a few unresponsive seconds, she collapsed to her knees and put her head in her hands, blushing a furious shade of red.

Sombra hurried over. “Satya? What did you see? Is it bad?”

Satya looked up at her, smiling from ear to ear. “I-I-I’ve never seen so much purple in my life!”

Sometime after lunch, Fareeha parked her motorcycle in front of Lena’s house and made the short walk up to the front door. She knocked three times, and Emily opened it.

“Fareeha! Top o’ the morning to ya!” Emily greeted her, smiling. She was wearing her usual panama hat and green scarf. Her sweater of the day was a yellow one with a pattern of red question marks and green horizontal zigzags. “We’re marathonin’ some Doctor Who over here.”

“Cool, Em,” Fareeha greeted in return. She was wearing a dark blue Toronto Maple Leafs t-shirt, jeans, and her usual blue flannel jacket. “You ready to go to the library?”

Emily considered for a second. “I guess. Where’s Angela?”

“At work. Same with Lena, right?”

“Right.”

“So uh… you ready to get going?”

“Just the two of us? On your motorcycle?” Emily shrugged. “Sure, seems reasonable. I’ll go tell Amelie we’re going.”

She turned around and ran back into the house.

Fareeha parked her motorcycle in front of the library. It was mid-afternoon. As they strode in, they noticed that there were some people in there, reading books, checking them out, the usual library patron things. Emily and Fareeha made a beeline for the corner directly below the trapdoor and looked up.

Amelie was looking down at them, next to the trapdoor. She gave Emily a sly smile and knocked on the door.

Emily smiled back. Fareeha looked at her somewhat quizzically, trying to figure out how on earth Amelie had gotten there faster when she was on foot and they were on a motorcycle.

The trapdoor opened slightly, and Amelie whispered something into it. It swung open and the ladder descended from it. Amelie skittered in, while Fareeha and Emily waited until nobody was looking before quickly scaling the ladder and entering the witch’s home.

The room looked much the same as the last time they saw it, everything still perfectly organized and categorized.

“¡Hola!”

Amelie jumped.

Sombra materialized behind her, giggling. She floated over their heads and turned to hover in front of them.

“Wow, arana, you’re high-strung. Gotta remember that...”

“My name,” Amelie said through gritted teeth, “is Amelie. A-me-lie. Got it?”

“Got it, arana,” Sombra said with a sly grin. “Hola, Fareeha. Hola, Emily. Coma estas?

“Hi, Sombra,” Fareeha said, “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Sombra said. She turned around and shouted, “Hey Satya, el equipo esta aqui, está la magia lista?

The ornate door creaked open and Symmetra stepped out. She carried herself as usual, but gone was the judging visage of yesterday and in its place was a faint yet joyful smile.

“Welcome back. I see your number is diminished today. Where are Angela and your British compatriot?” Symmetra asked quizzically.

“Angie and Lena are at work.” Fareeha answered.

“Fair enough.”

Symmetra lightly clapped her hands and a chest floated up to them. It was a somewhat ornate oak chest, with patterns of fire inlaid with what appeared to be gold leaf. She snapped her fingers and it opened.

“For you, Fareeha; a silver hockey stick that will amplify your already prodigious strength. I trust you are proficient in its use?”

Fareeha picked it up. “Good balance. Should feel heavier than it is, but it actually feels pretty light.” She tried a few practice swings. “And it handles good, eh?”

“For you, Emily; a silver-tipped umbrella that projects a shield when it is open, to protect you and your friends.”

“Cheers,” Emily said, picking up the umbrella.

“For you, Amelie; this visor will augment your already powerful vision and let you show what you see to others.”

Amelie picked up the visor. It covered her upper eyes with six ruby-red lenses.

“For Angela, a cadeuceus that she can channel her angelic powers through to heal allies. And for Lena, a necklace that will make her as fast as a wolf.”

The cadeuceus was long and made of some white metal, topped with an angel-wing design and a yellow gem, possibly a citrine or a yellow tourmaline. The necklace was a large, flat, glowing blue gem with curiously rotating patterns of rings within it, inlaid within a silver disk suspended from a sturdy silver chain.

Suddenly, Fareeha realized something.

“Umm… do you have some way for us to take these home?” she said quizzically.

“...What?” Symmetra said, nonplussed.

“We’ll look sorta conspicuous carrying these through a library, and the motorcycle we got here on doesn’t have a trunk,” Fareeha pointed out.

“Oh, y-yes, uh… I will provide you with a bag of holding… just g-give me a second...” Symmetra sputtered, and headed towards one of the back rooms. Once the door was closed behind her, she began kicking herself and muttering about being an idiot. How could she have made such an elementary mistake?

Angela strode up to the porch of a small house with a navy-blue tiled roof. She checked her watch.

4:26 P.M. Right on time. Angela knocked on the door.

She heard loud footsteps. Fareeha, beaming, opened the door and exclaimed, “Angie! There you are! C’mon, the game’s about to start!”

Angela smiled. “Glad I could make it, Fareeha.”

Angela was honestly glad that her schedule allowed her to spend time with Fareeha; the trade-off, though, was that she had to arrive at work at 5 o’clock sharp, and thus didn’t get much sleep.

Fareeha was sitting on the couch in front of her TV. She had a cooler of beer and a large bowl of popcorn.

Angela plopped down on the couch. She sighed, exhausted, and began undoing her ponytail, letting her hair down.

“Long day at work, Angie?”

“Mein Gott, yes. So much paperwork.”

Angela looked over at the coffee table and noticed a photo lying there. It appeared to be a young Fareeha, her father, and a woman she didn’t recognize. She had a tattoo similar to Fareeha’s, but on the other eye.

“Who’s that?” Angela asked, pointing to the woman in the photo.

Fareeha looked at it. “Oh yeah. That’s my mom. Dad said she left when I was a kid. Found that picture in my attic. Wish he could’ve told me more about her, but he’s not around to ask anymore, ya know.” She sighed and shrugged. “Well, least he’s in a better place. And hey! It’s been kinda nice, having the place all to myself… n’ you, of course.”

Angela smiled and put her arm around Fareeha’s shoulder. “Always finding that silver lining, aren’t you, liebling?”

“Yup,” Fareeha said, leaning over to kiss Angela on the cheek.

At around 6-o’clock, Lena pulled the van into her garage. She was singing along to a song on the radio, and when she parked the car and got out she continued to sing.

“Oh-oh, we’re halfway there,” Lena sung as she walked to the front door. “Whoa-oh, livin’ on a prayer!”

“Luv, I’m ho-ome!” Lena announced as she opened the door.

As she entered the house, she could hear that Emily was watching a show in the living room. From the sounds of lasers and British yelling, she assumed that it was Doctor Who.

Rounding the corner, she found her assumption correct. Emily and Amelie were sitting on the couch, with Amelie’s many legs and arms oddly curled around Emily in a comfortable, protective gesture. They both looked up.

“Bonjour, Lena,” Amelie said, waving to her with a free hand.

“Hey, love!” Emily greeted her. “Me and Amelie’ve been watchin’ some Doctor Who. Your dinner’s on the table, we already ate. It’s fish and chips.”

“Cheers, love!” Lena said. “I’ll leave ya to your show.”

Shortly thereafter, as Lena ate her dinner, she realized it felt kind of lonely, eating by herself. Oi, that’s a stupid thought, Lena thought. Em’s just over there in the living room, and Amelie too! Come to think of it, they look really nice together. Still, Lena felt that something was missing. She pushed that thought to the back of her brain, though.

“Fareeha.”

“wha...” Fareeha said, waking up. She was in bed, and it was dark out. She looked over at the clock. 11:30 P.M. Why was she awake now?

She felt Angela’s hand on her shoulder. Yawning, she said, “Ya amar, why’d you wake me-”

She trailed off when she saw Angela. She was sitting bolt upright. Her hair seemed to stand on end, and gone was her usual weary look. Bu most noticeably, her eyes were glowing white.

“Good. You are awake. We need to go.” Angela said, in an echoing, imposing voice that sounded almost like a choir.

Fareeha stared at her for a few seconds.

“Why?”

“Hellhounds. Other side of town. Get your gear. Get dressed. Call Lena.”

Fareeha got out of bed, half-awake but grinning. “Finally.”

On the edge of the woods, six figures stood. Fareeha was wearing blue hockey pads and wielding her hockey stick. Amelie was wearing a long hoodie, two pairs of black gloves, her visor, and was wielding a sniper rifle. Lena had her glowing necklace, a toolbelt strapped on over her bomber jacket, and was in the process of loading a handgun. Emily looked a bit apprehensive, but nevertheless she was brandishing her silver-tipped umbrella with the rest of them. Sombra was hovering in the air, practicing her punches and kicks. And Angela stood in the forefront of them all, hair flowing and body glowing with a dim yellow-white light, ready to unleash her full power but reined in for now.

“Are we ready?”

“Ready.” Fareeha said confidently.

Lena grinned. “Course we are!”

Amelie and Sombra nodded in assent. Emily hesitated for a second, then nodded as well.

“Then let’s go. Battle awaits.” Angela announced, leading on into the forest with the others close behind.

Soon, Amelie spotted a dim orange light. Then another, and another. “There they are!” she announced, pointing.

“Hellhounds. Ten of them.” Angela smiled. “Finally.” With that, her dim glow turned into a bright shine. Massive, angelic wings sprouted from her back as she began to glow all over, becoming a radiant, angelic figure. She rose into the air and hurtled towards the hellhound pack, yelling a battle cry.

Fareeha looked in awe for a few seconds before snapping out of it and following her, charging into battle with her weapon gripped tightly. Lena, Emily, and Sombra followed, with Amelie sticking back with her sniper rifle.

Angela lobbed a few bolts of light at the pack. Two of the hounds were hit and dissolved into ash. The pack scattered as a result. Fareeha whacked one in the head with her hockey stick and felt its skull crack under the swing a split second before it dissolved. She wheeled around and bashed another in the ribcage, leaving another ashpile behind her.

A hellhound leapt at Emily, but she opened her umbrella and it bounced off the shield, knocking her back a bit but repelling the slavering beast. She didn’t notice the other one lurking behind her, until a shot rang out and, with a yelp, the hound dissolved into ash. Emily looked over in the direction in the shot, and saw Amelie giving her two thumbs up. She gave a thumbs up in return.

The hound Emily died was swiftly dispatched by Lena, who was dashing around the area. She paused just long enough to shoot it right in the head before dashing off again, kicking up some ash in her wake. Sombra was having a bit of a harder time, since she neglected to bring weapons. Thus, she was engaged in a bit of fisticuffs with a hellhound. Jab right, kick left, roundhouse, and two decisive hits to the cranium brought the beast down, and Sombra floated off.

Lena noticed the remaining two hellhounds and ran over to one, shooting at it till it dissolved. Amelie took the last one with a decisive shot to the head.

As they dusted themselves off, Angela’s light bean to dim. She touched down, and all of a sudden she immediately stopped glowing. Fareeha ran over as Angela shuddered on her feet and collapsed in her arms.

“Angie! Are you okay?”

“Ja, liebling. Just… tired.” Angela sighed and looked up at Fareeha. “We make a good team, though.”

thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and the next chapter’s already underway!

And as always, thank you to @reypadawanjedi, @space-agatka, @kalverzer, and my beta @sssammich

#symbra #widowtracily #pharmercy #monster watch #my fics #i'm gonna take a break after this and establish some lore so i can get a onsistent universe down

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waldos-writing · 7 years

Text

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 11

Father Barkley

Alright, it was stupid. It was stupid and fun and it was so much fun but it was stupid. It was. He admitted that. Didn’t mean he was not going to spoon her in that cramped twin bed. Because that’s what a gentleman does after like, shit, what? Hours and hours of practice. Right? I mean, people still counted sex in rounds, in turns. One-Love. Five-six. Whatever. He hadn’t done anything since…but it still counted. Holy balls the girl was a demon and he enjoyed her tricks.

He was buried in her long black hair and he didn’t even mind it. She was texting with his phone, furious little words spit out from her thumbs. She had a fire bug up her butt about this whole tower thing and he liked her energy. It felt good. It just felt nice and he hated that he liked it and he hated that he thought about it too much. He always did. If anything, it didn’t really matter, in the scheme of things.

“Wanna know why?” she used to say.

“Why?” he’d croon back at her, face in her red hair, intoxicated on perfume and gin.

“You’re a speck,” she used to say and he’d nod and tell her to go on. “You’re a speck in a sea of people on a spinning marble in a giant solar system in a clusterfuck of stars you or I or the guy next door couldn’t name or imagine in its completion, in a void that doesn’t even reach our own eyeballs at night and you think if I stepped out into traffic tomorrow that it would change the world?”

“Well,” he’d say, slowly coming out of the fog of hair and sex. “Well, probably change whoever hit you.”

Devon hated when Cherry did that. She liked to ramble and he liked to go with it right up until she started being cavalier about suicide. He tried. He was very good at talking her out of it when she was really messed up. But if she was casual about it, like she was after sex, and she put her head on his chest and occasionally drew words on his stomach with her fingernails, then he’d have to be casual too. He’d try. He’d always try.

“It would raise their rates at least. Might even put them in jail.”

“Yeah. Bet it’d screw with their family too.”

“Bet it would.”

This was a common scene. It was best because he could wind himself around Cherry and she was calm and hot and peaceful. He remembered that this was when they had just purchased the house, the one Devon said he’d build a fence around and fix up the kitchen sometime. Maybe he’d put in new shutters before winter. There was something about the light through those yellowed, filmy windows and that rough beige carpet. It was theirs. They’d earned it begging people to buy her art and his records from his shitty little band and the radio gig in Montpelier, before he moved over to Yellow Yowl Entertainment. It was all theirs and they could walk around naked, eat fruit roll-ups and vodka for breakfast, shower five times a day or once a week and crush neat little lines of oxycodone along the ceramic sink. They could fold origami cranes from grocery receipts and smoke some of the meth they’d stolen from their recently dead neighbor and drink sugary smoothies and cry at Bambi every night. Whatever they wanted. It was theirs.

“Do they do funerals at night?” she asked as she kissed the bright red lines scratched into his chest. Her hair, which was once as red and vibrant as her namesake, had brown roots and split ends. The curls were all frizz, a mess of burnt straw. He brushed it gently out of her eyes. Her bruised, bloodshot eyes that were covered in week-old makeup, smeared with a fresh coat in the morning when he went off to work. She spread it into practiced smoky lines. Her weary beauty made his stomach bubble with delight. “I mean, like, ones under full moons or no moon or whatever.”

“I don’t know,” he answered, feeling that old metal coil of fear corkscrew through his guts. Why was it always funerals?

“You’d think you could, like, really see the soul float up then. I bet if you did one of those barbarian things, those Viking funeral things where you push the body out on the sea and light it on fire. Oh my god, the spark coming off that and the smoke billowing up. Watch it go up to the stars to dance forever. Learn all the names of all the faces looking down on us. ‘Kings of our past.’ Why does that sound familiar? ‘Kings of our past.’ What’s that from?”

“I don’t know, babe. Little Mermaid or something.”

“Something. Yeah. Yeah, I wonder what their faces would look like, don’t you? You know, they’ve been fire for so long; can they even have a face? Do you just, no, listen, do you go up in smoke right away? Or they give you some time to drift around. I want to see them drifting. Blurry faces squirming of everyone below you. Or maybe, maybe, babe, maybe they’re like stone. You think we look like statues to all the ghosts? I’d think springtime would be good. Mist spools up from the ground, like all the ghosts are coming together. Big orgy of spirits, you know? Makes it look like they’re dancing.”

“Right, love,” he said and kissed her over her eyebrow. “Mist in the morning. Speaking of which, I’ve got to be at the station in an hour and you’re up at Sal’s today, right?”

“It’s Wednesday already?”

“Wednesday already,” he answered. “Look, we got a gig at Feuermann’s tonight. You promise me to go to Sal’s, please.”

“Oh, he’s just going to say I need to go back on those pills”

“He will.”

“They make my tummy hurt.”

“I know.” Devon scrubbed her leg, making the pale white skin red and alive. “Also said you gotta take them with food. Go with me to the grocery later, okay? Promise me and I’ll buy you the whole bar if you like.”

“Nah,” she said, reaching for his hand. He gave it to her, just so she could nibble on his thumb. “I like to watch you play with a clear head. Hand me my vest over there. And make some toast? No butter!”

And that’s how it was. Months like that, years even. Where did it all go?

“I don’t know how you got me to agree to this,” whispered Devon, staring down at the giant monkey wrench in his hand. “And where the hell did you even get this?”

“Brother’s a mechanic,” said Declan. He was over a control panel, tapping part of a screen and sucking in his cheeks only to puff them out and do it again. “Hit that.”

“Hit what?” Devon hissed. His heart was hammering so hard he was afraid he was going to choke on it when it exploded. “I don’t want to hit anything. Oh my god, I’ll just hit you. I’ll hit you and I’ll run and they won’t even find me except for the piss trail I leave behind me oh my god, is that an alarm? Holy shit, that’s an alarm. We gotta go. We gotta go, holy shit, that’s an alarm. I’m going to drop this. I’m just going to set this down here—”

“Pause.”

“Did you just—”

Declan swiveled in the chair that was left in front of a large, closet-sized control panel. Little red lights blinked behind him, a panel of orange lit buttons to his left and too many wheels and gears and pipes to his right. The whole thing looked fake. It thrummed like a cheap television set. Declan, with his black hoodie, his long dreadlocks, his patchy beard, looked like a harmless villain. He even tented his fingers in thought.

A moment stretched as something buzzed persistently behind Declan on the vido screen. It was counting down, probably alerting someone far away and Devon was sure they were about to be pounced upon by a fleet of Black Jackets. They were going to bust in and decapitate them with a flick of their wrists.

“You want some water?” Declan asked.

“Water? What the actual literal entire fuck is your issue. Water! Why the f—”

Declan snapped his fingers and reached down into his old duct-tape duffel bag. True to word, he pulled out a water bottle, clear, glittering with the alarm lights. He held it out as an offering and just before Devon took it, he raised his hand. The alarm on the screen stopped. A green light overtook the control panels. Security was shut off and whoever had been alerted was given a short message of “false alarm.”

Devon stood taller, watching the door and the vido screen. His heart was still going, but he sighed, feigned a little satisfaction and relief. He said, “You did it.”

“Yeah. So, water?”

“Sure.”

Devon reached out and again Declan pulled it back. He said, “I gotta be straight.”

“Okay,” said Devon slowly.

“It’s drugged.”

“It’s—”

“Drugged. Yeah. Here.”

“I don’t want it if it’s drugged!” Devon almost slapped the water bottle out of Declan’s hand, but Declan was quick and snapped it back. “What the hell!”

“Anti-anxiety,” said Declan as he stood. He pressed the bottle into Devon’s chest, and tapped him twice on the shoulder. “Mostly. Thought I’d ask this time.”

Devon held onto the bottle. Anti-anxiety, huh? No rhyme or reason to it, but he started to untwist the cap and just as he was about to sniff the water and convince himself whether he was going to drink it or not, the words clicked. “Wait…this time?”

Declan did not have time to defend himself as Alice burst through the thick steel hatch. She had on a black stocking cap, black skintight shirt and pants, sweater, boots, socks, lipstick, eyeshadow, underwear. Whole outfit of “I’ve seen this in movies and I think I can get away with espionage and wreak havoc” that was not nearly practical enough in the cold night air but damn if she didn’t look fine as red wine.

“It worked?” she asked, for some reason breathless.

“Worked,” Declan answered.

“Worked how what worked?” asked Devon. “What’s it doing?”

Devon chucked the drugged bottle of water against the wall. It bounced, the plastic making a soft “pap” sound before the water erupted out of the opening. An arc splashed the floor in an anticlimactic protest of aggression.

“You should have had that,” said Declan.

“‘You should have meh mlah mah,’” said Devon in a nasally mimic.

“He’s having a bad time.”

“Fucking right I am!”

“Dev,” said Alice and touched his arm. He was pulled out of his useless tantrum. “What’s wrong?”

And it was a simple question. It was. She just asked it, casual like that, touched his arm, casual like that. She’d come out of the shadows with her warm buttery skin and dark oily hair from days without shower. She kept it tied behind her small ears, out of her eyes. Kohl eyes, big lovely eyebrows. Mustard Alice. She was so not Cherry, it punched him in the gut.

“Dev?” she asked.

So what did it matter that her band partner was going to drug him or maybe had done it before. The bar, the egg. This was the usual for good old Declan. Alright, so it wasn’t that bad. They were illegally inside a CleanAire tower and basically dismantling it. Devon tried another big breath to see if it calmed his heartbeat. It didn’t, but he pretended that it did.

“Nothing,” he said at last. He tried to sound convincing. He was good, you know, because he was in radio. “What’re we doing?”

“Fucking shit up,” said Alice, her cheeks dimpled, her eyes sparkling in the low green light of the control panels. “Ready?”

Devon eyed the kid and the bottle on the floor. What did he say? He said he was going to stick to Declan’s side. He was going to follow Alice because he was head-over-heals for her. Devon felt old and stupid, but he wiped one hand on his pant leg and then the other so he had a good grip on the wrench.

“Born for it, baby,” he said, and lifted the wrench high over his head.

Devon wanted to say more. He used to have such a way with words, he did, and he knew there was a lot of terribleness coming that he wanted to speak to. Instead, he hoisted his weapon up high and brought it down on the electrical equipment like he was smiting Sin. Sparks shot up. There was a jolt along his forearms, maybe a literal shock mixed with the reverb. Alice shrieked some fantastic battle cry and knocked a big rubber mallet into a panel next to her. Declan wheeled out of the area, watching calm and cool from the back. He had a toolbox with him and he whistled as he went up the stairs to the filtration center, returning later with grease stains and a new metal pipe. Devon picked up his wrench to ruin the next piece of equipment.

It was stupid. It was stupid and fun and painful, but it was stupid. It was. Of course he admitted that. Devon whooped victory as Mustard Alice kicked her big boot through the projection panel for the vido screen. They might be caught and they might not. When she smiled a big wild grin over at him, Devon breathed. It was stupid. He was in love again.

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#The Dig Initiative #Against the Gray #novel #prose #writing #tumble authors #self publishing

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