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danversxluthor · 3 years

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Glasses (Pt. 1)

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Part one of a possibly three part story. Kara finally decides to take the plunge and plans to tell Lori and El about her secret identity. Lena is fully supportive but worries about how the girls will handle the news. As Kara continues to delay the news, Lori comes to some troubling, yet wrong, assumptions about her parents.

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Kara and Lena had avoided having this discussion with their girls for as long as possible. Originally, they had planned to sit Lori down when she was in middle school and have the talk, but that was pushed back once they realized Lori didn’t know how to keep a secret from El. Then, they decided to have the talk with Lori and El all at once, the old two birds with one stone rationale. But, then life got in the way. Lena was launching a new branch of L-Corp directed at humanitarian efforts, while Kara was busy with Supergirl duties in both National City and Metropolis ever since Clark and Lois moved off planet. Not to mention both Lori and El were busy being high schoolers. Lori was popular and well-liked by her school mates; so much so that her social calendar rivaled Lena’s work calendar at times. And, El, well, to everyone but Lena’s surprise, El was thriving in high school. Sure, she wasn’t like Lori with a million friends, but she found extracurriculars she enjoyed like chess club and mathletes.

“We have to tell them.” Kara blurted out as she and Lena laid in bed. Lena knew something had been bothering her wife the past few days and clearly Kara was ready to spill. Lena carefully marked her page, set her book down, took her glasses off and shifted to give Kara her full attention.

“What's going on Kar? You’ve been tense the past few days. Talk to me, babe.” Lena placed her hand on Kara’s thigh, rubbing gentle soothing circles as she patiently waited for Kara to respond.

“They’re both in high school now! And I mean, gosh, Lori’s already 16--she can drive Lee. And soon she’ll go off to college, and El, I mean she’s already becoming so independent, and--” Kara was rambling, a clear sign of worry.

“Kara, love.” Lena cut off. “Just breathe.” Lena took a deep breath encouraging her wife to do the same. Kara took a few seconds before continuing.

“We need to tell the girls who I am.” Kara finally said. “That… that I’m Supergirl.” Lena had been waiting for Kara to bring this up again. Even though she was extremely hurt when Kara finally told her about being Supergirl, Lena also respected that Supergirl was Kara’s secret to share. She never wanted to pressure Kara, even though she was concerned about how the girls might take the news.

“I can’t have them live their entire lives without knowing me. They need to know who their parents are, Lee.” Kara looked at her wife with determination and apprehension. Lena could tell Kara had been holding onto some guilt about this.

“Kara, I love you and our girls love you. And you’re right, they deserve to know you and about where they come from.” Lena places a chaste kiss on her wife’s cheek, eliciting a small smile from the hero. “This is your choice, however you want to do this, I will stand by you.”

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“Lori! Come on, get a move on!” Kara yelled up the stairs. El cringed at the sound as she stood in the driveway. Despite having her noise cancelling headphones on, the sound still got through and rang in El’s head.

Lena was just finishing packing up the car for their weekend trip to the beach house, when she saw El adjusting her headphones.

“Ok, there Ellie?” Lena wanted everything to go smoothly today. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she or Roa could do about Lori not being a morning person, especially on a Saturday. El gave a timid nod before clamping her hands on her headphones once more to the sound of a slamming door.

Out walked Kara carrying Lori fireman style over her shoulder. To Lori’s credit, she didn’t kick or scream or pout, she knew this was a losing battle and at least she could sleep in the car.

El let go of her head phones and gave Lori a little wave good morning. Lori didn’t understand how El could manage to be so nice so early in the morning, especially with the noise.

“Hey, weirdo.” Lori greeted El as Kara put her back on the ground.

“Lori…” Kara warned.

“Sorry…” Lori mumbled as she got settled in the back seat.

The ride to the beach house was mostly uneventful. Lena drove well over the speed limit to Kara chagrin, but somehow never got pulled over. Lori slept most of the way, only waking when they stopped for breakfast. And, El kept her headphones on and sunglasses down as she looked out the window at the passing scenery.

By the time they arrived at the beach house, Lori was finally awake and caffeinated enough to help Ellie unload and Kara and Lena opened the house up. Kara and Lena took the quiet moment away from the girls to relax on the back deck facing the ocean. They purchased the house back when Lena was pregnant with Lori and it always brought the couple back to the early years of their family, when life was far less complicated and their babies were still babies.

The family enjoyed the rest of their day at the beach. Lori and Kara were able to go surfing while El and Lena stayed in the shallow water. Lena was still apprehensive about the ocean ever since her mother died. Even though El liked that her mom stayed with her in the shallow water where El could keep her headphones on she also looked longingly out at her sister as she rode a wave. It was amazing to El, how something as loud and vicious as the ocean could make a person seem like they were flying on air.

“You know you can go out there with them if you want. I’m sure Jeje would love to teach you how to surf.” Lena pointed to Lori who just caught a wave.

El shook her head and nervously pushed her sunglasses up her nose. The nervous fidgeting reminded Lena so much of Kara. As El had gotten older, Lena started noticing more and more of Kara in her. Sure, El had Lena’s black hair, emerald eyes, and intelligence but personality wise, she was all Kara. Lena marveled at how El, despite her challenges, could be so kind and empathetic to a world that often wasn’t kind to her.

Lena put her arm around El, who only tensed for a moment before allowing her mom to pull her to her side. The pair watched as Kara and Lori laughed and splashed one another. It was a nice break from their usual yelling.

That night Kara decided to build a fire in the firepit on the deck. It had been a good day, beyond what she could have dreamed, and now she just hoped the news wouldn’t ruin it all. Lena could tell Kara’s tension was building and decided to take the time while Lori and Ellie were finishing the dishes to check on her wife.

“Hey, love.” Lena wrapped her arms around Kara’s waist from behind and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder.

“It's been a good day.” Kara took a deep breath. “I love you babe.” The couple would’ve stayed like that longer, but their kids were promised s’mores and the fire was picking up.

After everyone had had their fill of gooey chocolaty goodness, they all settled in. After a long lapse, Lori finally broke the silence.

“So, this has been fun and all, but why are we here?” Lori asked genuinely looking between Lena and Kara.

“Well…” Kara started, she had played over and over again in her head exactly what she wanted to say but now it all felt wrong.

“Oh my god, are you and mom getting divorced?” Lori asked with panic in her voice.

“Well…” Kara’s brain was still trying to figure out how to address the entire reason for the trip. Luckily Lena quickly jumped in.

“No darling, we’re not getting divorced.” Lena gives Kara a very annoyed side eye, signaling for her to pull herself together. “Your Jeje just has something she’d like to tell you.” Lena looked to Kara who took a deep breath.

“And, I think it’ll have to wait for tomorrow.” Kara nodded toward where El was sound asleep on the chair wrapped up like a little burrito with her headphones and sunglasses still on.

#supercorp #supercorp child #lena luthor #kara danvers #danvers-luthor #supercorp daughters #supercorp daughter #supercorp family #supergirl fanfic #supercorpchild #little!luthor #baby!danvers

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ererokii · 4 years

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Hit It! || Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

Warnings: slight suggestive talk, cursing

Word Count: 2427

Synopsis: The students finished their final exams and the former number one hero has a fun plan in store for them, which may cause Bakugou to become more competitive than usual.

Taglist(message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @sugacookiies @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub’s bingo event! The prompt is Sports Game. And yes before anyone says anything, that is a haikyuu gif.

Bingo Masterlist

The students of UA have finished their final exams and desperately needed a break. Some decided they would go back home and visit their parents, others wanted to go explore the rest of the world or just sit back in the dorms. This time was different.

Since his retirement, All Might has kept himself focused on class 1-A. This meant that he gave advice, and helped those who needed the inner strength to get better at their quirk. He noticed the tight bond between the students. It was obvious to spot since the League of Villains attacked the summer camp and kidnapped Bakugou. The dedication in each student’s heart was evident.

The summer breeze flowed throughout the area, carrying it’s hot wind throughout the dorm room you were currently in. The windows stayed open as the curtains covered the rays of the sunlight from seeping through. You let out a small whine and shifted in the arms of the person beside you. “Move you’re all sweaty!”

“Hah? And you aren’t? It’s not my fucking fault that it’s so fucking hot.”

“Least you could do is get a fan or something! You’re making us suffer but mostly me!”

Bakugou let out a noise of annoyance and sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, the muscles of his uncovered arms flexing unintentionally. He wore a red tank top that showed off his build and black basketball shorts. A simple outfit that made him look amazing.

A pleased hum fell from your lips as your hand slithered up his arm, squeezing the muscle of his bicep.

He glanced down at your hand. “What? What do you want?”

“You,” a sly grin tugged at your lips as you leaned up on your forearm, the strap of your tank top resting off of your shoulder.

“Is that so?” his voice lowered as he towered over you, his calloused hand resting on the supple flesh of your thigh, squeezing it gently.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, his vermillion eyes boring into your own, “Uh-huh. It is”

His hand trailed up your thigh to the hemline of your shorts, tracing the fabric with the pad of his finger. “I think you’d look better with these off,” he whispered and captured your lips with his, pulling you flush to his chest.

Your hands weaved themselves into his hair, giving the locks a gentle tugged that caused a grunt to leave his throat.

“Hey guy- Woah!!”

A small gasp left your lips, Bakugou’s body tensing up at the voice “Ever heard of, oh I don’t know, knocking you idiot?!”

“Why didn’t you just lock the door?!” Kaminari’s voice choked out from his throat, his hand still gripping the doorknob.

“Because I thought people knew what privacy was!!”

“Pfft,” he brushed it off, hand letting go of the doorknob. “Whatever! Just hurry up! We’re going to be playing a game as a class! And All Might is supposed to be there as well!!”

At the name of the former number one hero, Bakugou looked over at him, his body still leaning over your own. “All Might?”

“Uh-huh! So hurry whatever this is!” he gestured to your bodies with his hand. “And we can start sooner!”

“Katsu get off!” You grunted and pushed at his chest, both of his hands planted on both sides of your head. “I wanna go see what it is!”

“What?! Woman you just said you wanted me now you’re gonna leave?!”

“Well yeah,” you said, looking up at him unamused. “So get off!”

He grumbled and got off of you, standing up from his bed. “Are you actually going to that? It’s probably not even going to be good. Just those damn nerds and that stupid game shit for brains said”

You rolled your eyes and fixed your tank top. “Yes I am. It’ll probably be something fun! So stop being a grumpy bitch and get yourself ready!”

“What did you say, shitty woman?!”

“I said what I said!”

“You’ll regret that!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

All Might discussed with your class that you would be in the gym for today, without your hero costumes. Of course, you were all confused. The majority of the time when you needed to head to the gym, you needed to wear your hero costumes or your gym uniforms.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Momo started as she scratched her chin, in thought. “He ignored all of our questions. He never does that. Plus Mr. Aizawa seems..okay today.”

Tsuyu nodded in agreement, placing a finger on her chin. “I noticed that too. Maybe it’s a fun surprise?”

“Fun?!” Mina gasped in what sounded like horror. “What makes you think this is fun?! What if it’s punishment?! What if they have us read books and laugh at our torture?!”

“Uh...I think you’re going a bit too far Mina. Maybe it is actually something fun,” Ochako spoke up, hands swinging by her side. “Maybe we’ll play a sport!”

Jirou nodded, playing with the earphone of her lobe, clinking them together in boredom. “Don’t get so worked up over it. You’re always exaggerating”

“That's not true!! Y/N please back me up!” Mina whined, shaking you by your shoulders.

“Sorry Mina I have to agree with Jirou on this one”

“I thought you had my back!” She wailed.

“I mean I do!” you said quickly, waving your hands in front of you frantically. “Just not now!”

“Yeah Mina, you are drama queen,” Hagakure commented, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Before Mina could comment or strangle the invisible girl, All Might walked in with Aizawa, carrying a black bag in his hands.

“Good Morning class!”

Everyone quickly lined up, hands by their side. “Morning All Might!”

A booming laugh left his lips, placing his hands on his hips. “Who is ready to get this started?!”

“Maybe you should tell them before we get this started or whatever...I don’t care. Just don’t destroy the place,” Aizawa mumbled, running a hand through his locks.

“Yes of course!” All Might coughed into his hand and took out the object from the bag. It was a volleyball. “Today you guys will be bonding over a simple game of volleyball! And yes you can use your quirks! It’ll be a nice game of boys vs girls!”

“Quirk training?!” Deku gasped and clenched his fist tightly. “I’ll make sure to use this wisely then!”

“Seeing the girls run?! Girls girls girls..” Mineta trailed off, some drool dribbling out of his mouth.

“Ew man get it together. No one wants to see you like that,” Sero waved him off, moving away from him.

“It is not nice to talk about our female classmates like that!” Iida interrupted Mineta’s daydream.

“I didn’t say anything! Honest!” He grinned, eyeing you from the side of his eye. “Oh man I can’t wait.”

“Can’t wait for what diaper baby?!” Bakugou yelled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. “I know you weren’t checking my girlfriend like that!!”

“Enough!” Aizawa’s voice boomed throughout the room, hair up as his red eyes focused on Bakugou and Mineta. “Unless you guys wanted me to teach all of you a lesson.”

Bakugou dropped Mineta on the floor, the smaller boy letting out a noise as he collided with the ground. Once the two got back in place, All Might cleared his throat.

“Like I was saying, you guys obviously have a deep bond! Why not make it deeper by a fun game!” He laughed and handed the ball to Iida. “I assume you all know how to play volleyball. Remember quirks are allowed but don’t kill each other either!”

“So it was something fun.” Tsuyu mumbled as she walked into position. “I haven’t played volleyball in awhile. But this will be fun nonetheless!”

“Huddle!” Mina yelled and pulled you guys into a tight circle. “You see those pests over there?”

“Uh, Mina we can hear you.”

“We’re gonna beat them!” She ignored Kirishima’s comment, placing her hand in the middle. “We’ll wipe the floor with them!”

You all cheered, placing your hands in the middle. “And since we all have some powerful quirks, it’ll be easy!”

Your quirk was called stretch. You were able to stretch your limbs as far as you wanted. The only downside is if you use your quirk too much you wouldn’t be able to use it for the rest of the day, your body on the verge of collapsing.

“As long as we just call for the ball we’ll do great!” You looked over your shoulder to find Katsuki staring at you, a small smirk on his face.

“He’s not your boyfriend now! He’s the enemy!” Hagakure’s hand placed itself on top of your head, forcing you to look back at the group. “Forget the lovey-dovey things and destroy him!”

You blinked absentmindedly. Who knew volleyball could bring out the weird in people.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“Todoroki!”

“Got it” The bi-colored boy said calmly, quickly shooting out fire at the volleyball from his left side, sending it back your way with intense speed.

All Might had said that the ball was created with some type of material that was able to be used even with fire or explosions and other types of quirks.

“Mine!” Tsuyu called, sticking her tongue out to prevent the ball from falling on the floor.

“My way!” You yelled out, running to the side of the court. Mina glanced your way before shooting acid that sent the ball your way. You jumped up, hand colliding with the ball as you spiked it downwards, causing Iida to miss the ball by a second. “Yes!” you cheered as you landed, hands up in the air.

“Nice one Y/N! Ochako it’s your serve!”

Uraraka made her way to the line, mumbling something as she held the ball in her hands. “Should I use my quirk..? Nah” she nodded to herself as she took a step back before throwing the ball up in the air, taking a step forward and hit it.

You guys watched it hit the net, the ball falling and hitting your end of the court.

“I’m sorry guys!” She cried and covered her face with her hands.

“It’s fine Ochako-san! It’s Bakugou’s serve so look up!” Momo called out, legs bent as her hands were in front of her already.

At the name of him, you all immediately got in position, prepared for his move.

Bakugou analyzed your placement, bouncing the ball off of the ground.

“Come on Bakugou! We’re all waiting for you!” Kirishima groaned, fixing the white headband he had on.

Bakugou growled, his hand starting to sweat. He tossed the ball up in the air and spiked it, the ball speeding towards Jirou.

Her eyes widened, no time to move for it as it already landed on the floor, a point for the boys.

“Awesome!! One more then we win! Serve like that again Bakugou!”

“Of course I am, idiot!” He spat, snatching the ball from Sero’s hands.

Bakugou let out a small growl as he squeezed the ball in his hands before tossing the ball in the air and serving it your way.

“Momo!” You spoke up, bumping the ball to her as she set the ball for Hagakure to hit over.

“I got it!” Kirishima yelled as he bumped the ball towards the net.

Bakugou’s eyes followed the ball as he ran at full speed. “Move!!” He yelled and jumped up, his hand creating an explosion as it collided with the ball, a cracking noise resonating throughout the room. “Die!!”

Your eyes widened at the sudden burst of new color and the ball heading your direction.

“Y/N watch out!”

Before you could even move, the ball smacked you in your face, causing you to stumble backwards and land with a thud, your head hitting against the ground hard.

The girls gasped as they made their way to tend to you immediately.

“Bakugou!” Izuku said, pointing a finger in the blond boy’s direction. “All Might said not to go all out with our quirks! You probably gave her a concussion!”

“Yeah, she isn’t waking up,” Todoroki mumbled, arms crossed over his torso.

“That was extremely uncalled for Bakugou! You broke the rules and now we have to stop because of your carelessness!” Iida reprimanded him, hands motioning to your moving body.

“Not cool man..” Kaminari whispered, a hint of worry in his voice as he walked over to you with Kirishima and Sero.

“What happened?” you mumbled, a hand on your throbbing head. “Did I pass out?”

“Young Y/N, Bakugou went a bit too hard and spiked the ball into your face. You have to see Recovery Girl immediately. You might have gotten a concussion.” All Might helped you stand up, your body stumbling faintly.

“Really? That’s crazy..” you whispered and looked around, your classmates staring at you in worry. “What did I get a third eye?!” Your hands felt your face in search of your said third eye.

“No, your eye is swelling shut!”

“Ugh, move!” Bakugou groaned out and wrapped a hand around your wrist. “Come on. You’ll probably pass out on the way there. I’ll take you, shitty woman”

A hand on your head, you followed Bakugou from behind as you let out incoherent noises, a silence between the two of you as you walked down the hall to Recovery Girl’s office.

“You hit me really hard..”

“It was an accident”

You let out a sniffle as you wiped your eye gently, careful of the bruising. “Yeah, but it hurts!”

“Why are you complaining?! You’ve fought villains before and you’re crying because I hit you with a volleyball?”

“W-well yes! But it still hurts!”

“Fucking- let me see.” He placed a hand on your waist and brought you closer, his hand gently caressing the side of your face. “Damn… I did get you good. She’ll fix you up.”

“..kiss it better.”

“What?”

“I said,” you looked up at him, your eye fluttering shut. “Kiss it better.”

Bakugou stared down at you like you lost your mind. He sighed in defeat and placed a gentle kiss on your wound, his lips lingering for a second more that sent warmth throughout your body.

“There. Now stop crying.”

You let out a small smile and patted his cheeks. “Kiss it again!”

“I just fucking did dammit!”

“Well, kiss it again asshole!”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I said so! Now start walking and quit talking shitty woman!”

#bnhabookclub #katsuki bakugou #katuski x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #bnha #myheroacademia #bokonoacademia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #my fic #fic #bingo event

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geralt-of-baevia · 4 years

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Happenstance

Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘

A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!

Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛

Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney

Part 1: Oops.

(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing.

(405:)

(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that.

(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had.

(Henry:)

(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name.

(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?

(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department?

(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P

(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?

(405:)

(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise.

(Henry:)

(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.

(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT.

(Henry:)

(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before?

(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.

(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair?

(405:) That's me. :)

(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is.

(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P

(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.

(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?

(Henry:) ELIZABETH!

(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much.

(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.

(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy?

(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me.

(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P

(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text.

(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today?

(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.

(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap.

(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...

(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation.

(Henry:)

(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P

(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out.

(Henry:) The crotch?

(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;)

(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens.

(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P

(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P

(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch.

(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;)

(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job! How rude.

(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;)

(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help.

(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P

(Henry:)

(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.

(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)

(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch?

(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.

(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.

(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing.

(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me.

(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least. ;)

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:)

(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning.

(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch.

(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(

(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues.

(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P

(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :)

(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :)

(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :)

(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)

#henry cavill #geralt of rivia #the man from uncle #the witcher #tmfu #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fc #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill witcher #fanfic #henrycavillfanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henrycavillxreader

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Dreamers

Do not ask me what this is because i have no idea. It’s like midnight here and i really should be asleep but my blood was boiling to get this out of me. I’m just gonna classify it as fanfiction but its debatable? Anyway i hope you enjoy my lovelies. It was so.......interesting to write. I don’t know my fingers took over and i just let them do their thing.

Masterlist

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

i thought we were made

of memories

but when i look at you

the whole world

blurs

i’m starting to think we are made

of dreams

and you just happen to

be mine.

-badpoetry

What is a dream?

A 12 year old Percy Jackson asked.

And the little five year old girl he babysat gave him a toothy grin and said, "Mommy told me its where all the people we used to know and all the people we will know meet up,"

He blinked those sea green eyes at her unsure exactly what she meant, what that implied, what those possibilities entailed.

"Why?"

"Well," Her brow furrowed, "I was having a bad dream and I woke mommy up. I was crying you know," She nodded, hanging her head shamefully, "I know that means I'm not a big girl but it was really scary,"

"It's okay to cr—" He started but she was already prattling on.

"So mommy sat with me and she explained that sometimes when we dream bad things it just means our heart is hurted for the people we don't know."

Percy was flawed, he didn't really know how to process this, how she said it with such casualness, as if it was the most sensible thing in the world.

"And what happens if you have good dreams?"

"Well mommy says that means you are happy." She shrugged, "Can we watch Winx Club now?"

And with one click of the TV the conversation was over. For her anyway. Percy sat there, blinking in and out of reality, his thoughts swirling.

Where all the people you used to know and you will know meet.

He crashed into bed that night, tired and escaping the reek of liquor and tobacco. He circled back to the conversation he had with little Stella a frown etching into his forehead.

Our heart is hurting for the people we don't know.

And when grey eyes and streaks of blonde visited his dreams once more his frown deepened; who was this person and why why why did they hurt.

***

Annabeth Chase was having a bad day. She had had a fight with her father, got screamed at by her stepmother and stepped on Lego all in the span of one morning. Now she stormed down the passage and out the gym, gold curls flying and eyes the colour of ash burning holes into the concrete as she waited outside.

It wasn't her fault she had punched him. He shouldn't have told her to "move out the way so the real game could start." She would have thrown that basketball right at his stupid face if someone hadn't grabbed it from her. Now she was standing outside the gym, waiting for class to end so her coach could take her to the principal's office. She was probably going to get suspended again- not that she cared. She was more concerned with what her father would do. Her anger was interrupted by a throat clearing.

She looked up to see black hair, dark skin and green eyes staring at her.

"What do you want?"

"I got sent here. I punched the other two idiots who were still snickering after you got kicked out."

And it's then that she noticed his bruising knuckles and red jaw.

"Oh," Was her eloquent reply, "Why?"

"They were wrong and it was rude." He shrugged as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Well thanks I guess," She tried to set her face into some semblance of a smile, "Guess we're both getting suspended huh?"

"I'll probably get expelled," He rolled his eyes.

"What? Why?"

"This is my third offense. I seem to have a lot of run-ins but usually they don't involve defending pretty girls."

She blushed at that, and then took comfort in his reddening cheeks.

"What's your—"

"Annabeth Chase!" A stern voice started towards them.

"Guess that's my cue. See you on the other side—"

"Percy," He smiled.

She returned it with a dazzling one of her own before being dragged to the dungeons.

Percy Jackson did not dream of stormy eyes and golden curls that night. And for the first time in six months he finally knew that Annabeth Chase was not hurting.

"Percy," She laughed, shoving away.

"Annabeth," He whispered, pulling her to him.

What is a dream?

A sixteen year old Percy Jackson asked.

And the glowing girl tucked into his side turned to him and said, "Subconscious imaginings that happen when you sleep that could involve sound, image and other sensory components."

He smiled at her, at his wise girl who thought of everything with her strategist brain, and he pulled her closer.

"They're just in your head, made up. Your imagination running wild." She shrugged as if that was the sensible explanation, the only explanation.

"I guess they are. Why do you think we have good or bad dreams?"

"Probably to do with stress and our emotions. Maybe throw something about hormones in there." She looked up at him with her knowledgeable eyes, pools that held equal amounts defiance and pride, that held much more of something, something, something.

***

Annabeth Chase was having a good day. She woke up to the smell of pancakes and hushed whispers outside her door. Her boyfriend and her father were waiting for her tell tale sign before they came barging in. With a soft smile she clicked play on her phone and let the opening notes of Last Dance fill her room, her head, her smile.

The door eased open, floppy black hair and ocean eyes peeking at her. With a troublemakers smile he sprinted for the bed and flopped over her.

"Happy birthday Wise Girl,"

"Thank you," She kissed his forehead and then smiled up at the adult walking in.

"Happy Birthday sweetheart," He said softly holding out a plate with a ring of cupcakes and a single candle in the middle.

"Eighteen huh?"

"Don't remind me, I think I can already feel my bones creaking."

"That's not your bones, your machine body just needs some oil." Percy said cheekily.

She shoved his face away but laughed, "If I was a machine I would have my degree by now,"

"How about finishing high school first? Life is just beginning." Her dad sat down beside her.

"I know I know, just sometimes feel like I've been dreaming about living it for so long it's hard to imagine waiting even a second more."

"Well I'll be here to help you past the time," Percy grinned at her before swiping a cupcake and shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

"I know you will." She grabbed his hand.

"Annabeth," He cried, watching as she walked down the steps and out out out.

"Life," She sighed, gripping the handle of her bag and walking towards the gate and into the world beyond.

What is a dream?

A 21 year old Percy Jackson asked.

And the boy in the mirror gave him a broken look and said, "It is the alternative ending."

He closed his eyes, lifted his face to the skies.

"Why do we have bad dreams?"

"Some endings are not so happy,"

That night Percy Jackson went to sleep and watched storm clouds and lightning dance behind his eyes. Who was this person and why did they have no feeling at all?

***

Jason Grace did not expect to see a boy in a blue hoodie and faded jeans strolling through his secret garden but it seemed this bright breezy morning was ripe with surprise.

"Hey," He called

The boy startled and then turned towards him and the breath knocked clean from his lungs. He had never seen someone so full of the world. Ocean eyes and coffee skin. Midnight hair and forest heights.

"Uh hi, sorry I didn't think anyone was here,"

"I didn't either. How did you find this place?"

"By accident mostly," He flushed, "I didn't mean to disturb you I just got lost in thought."

"It's okay, this is a good place to think. To just be." He gave him a reassuring smile.

"Well I guess I should get out of your way,"

"Why don't you stay a little longer, we can get lost in thought together?"

And as he came closer, as he sat down on the cool grass, offering a shy smile the world fell off his shoulders and landed in their palms, holding together, together, together.

"Jason," He grinned.

"Percy," He sighed, hugging him tighter.

Jason Grace layed down a blanket and intertwined his fingers with his boyfriend’s long supple one’s. Today they celebrate the day they first met in the little garden tucked away in a little park.

”Happy anniversary Percy,”

He smiled that heart-breaker’s smile and kissed him.

“I cannot believe it’s been two years,”

“Time is not real when you don’t have to keep track of it,” He mumbled, kissing golden knuckles.

Even all these years later he still looked like the world. Although maybe it was the world who looked like him. With those clear bright eyes and unbreakable will. With that never-ending steady loyalty and the warmth of a thousand suns.

“Where are you?” He asked Jason.

“I am lost in thought,” He smiled into the closing space between them.

“Can we get lost together?”

“We have been that way since the stars started shining.”

What is a dream?

A 25 year old Percy Jackson asked.

And the boy with lightning eyes gave him a curious smile and said "Us."

He grinned, bright and unrestrained, the answer settling in his bones.

Us.

He had been searching his whole life for that word. Sometimes it takes two people in order for it to be true. Shakespeare did not make a word because he wrote it. He made one because he said it and someone echoed.

"Yes. We are a dream." He nodded, holding his hand to that electric heart.

"Are we a good one?" A whisper floated between them.

"We are the only one, my love."

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the-voltage-diaries · 4 years

Text

Embrasse-Moi (Part 2) - Eisuke Ichinomiya x Soryu Oh

For, @kbtbbposts. Hi. It’s been a while. (Lmfao utter lies, it’s been over a month). I’m sorry for the delay <3

‘Embrasse moi’: French for ‘Kiss me’.

Disclaimer: Guy x Guy, Suggestive. Also there’s cussing here so tread carefully who am I kidding all of us love an Eisuke and a Soryu who say fuck and also do it later on. Also, this chapter includes the PoVs of both characters, i.e Eisuke and Soryu (totally not just for the heck of it) First it’s Eisuke, then Soryu and then back to Eisuke. The change of banners will tell you.

Word count: 3022. Lol the least I can do in an attempt to make up for the delay is publish a long ass chapter.

P.S.: I’m always open for feedback. Feel free to hit my asks anytime, about any of my works (you can ask as anonymous if you don’t want me to know who you are lol)

I wake up to the sound of something chiming near my head.

With one of my arms draped lazily over Soryu’s sleeping figure, I reach out for my mobile with the other. As soon as I type in the password and check the mail, I almost immediately regret it. Sighing, I place the phone back on the nightstand and turn around to face Soryu’s back, conveniently ignoring the message, ready to doze off again for a little bit.

The moment my eyes close, my phone starts buzzing. An annoyed huff escapes me before I manage to find the device again and answer the call.

“Good morning, Ichinomiya!” Jason says on the other end of the line, his voice retaining its usual cheeriness even at 7AM in the morning. Does this man not sleep, or what.

“What do you want.”

“Yes, yes, Eisuke. I’m doing well, thank you for asking,” the fucker says, sarcasm practically dripping from his words, “How about yourself?”

“Bye.” I mutter, about to hang up. Don’t get me wrong, but I have neither the time nor the desire to be happy go lucky for someone who ruined my peaceful morning.

“Hold your horses, mister. I called for a reason, actually.”

Then get to it already, damnit.

“I wanted to let you know we’re meeting at my office at ten-thirty today. Works for you?”

“Mm,” I reply, sitting up as I think. I feel Soryu stir beside me and I pause, not wanting to wake him up. But instead of opening his eyes and waking up, he just turns around and wraps an arm around my lap, nestling into it as if I was a body pillow. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Okay, see you then.”

I hang up and run my fingers through my hair, letting myself enjoy the calm for a minute more before I need to get up. The moment I lift myself off the bed, I feel Soryu stir again at the loss of contact, but he manages to grab on to a nearby pillow to make up for it.

I’ll admit, for a moment I am tempted to rip that pillow out of his hands and get back into the bed with him, because Eisuke Ichinomiya doesn’t take kindly to being replaced, but I quickly shake my head to dismiss the thought.

I take a quick shower and put on my shirt, opting for my usual formal attire. Every little movement of mine is made quietly with the desire to not wake him up, because I know he needs the sleep if he doesn’t want to face the full wrath of a terrible hangover.

“Mmm,” he groans, still fully asleep, having no idea of the tough morning that awaits him. Speaking of hangovers, I walk over to the landline in the room and dial up the reception, trying to choose between the ideas of letting his hangover kill him or being a good citizen and saving his sorry ass.

“Morning, I’d like a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water in my room, and make it quick,” I tell the receptionist and hang up, my eyes catching the sight of a small notebook and pen on the nightstand.

I grab the pen and open the notebook, smirking as I write down a few words.

“I’m out to meet Jason for the business you definitely fucked up yesterday. I hope you’re no longer a man-child who yells ‘I am batman’ out of nowhere. On the off chance you are, let me remind you that puking on the bed is something you shouldn’t be doing.” “P.S. Yes, you did actually yell ‘I am batman’ yesterday.”

I tear the piece of paper and place the note beside him on my side of the bed, already imaging his reaction in my head.

I wake up with the unquenchable desire to throw my head into either a toilet or a paper bag.

The light blaring into the room through the windows feels nothing less than needles pricking into my eyes. As soon as my eyes adjust to the light, I get off the bed and make my way towards the bathroom, although barely in time. My hands grab on to the sides of the toilet seat as if it were a life support and my stomach somersaults as I vomit its contents out.

It, no doubt, is one of the worst hangovers of my life. This is also the first time the hangover is so bad that I feel the need to puke, that it doesn’t just stop at a headache. I can hold my liquor well, and have never had to face a lot of them, but this one is so violent that the back of my throat stings.

What in the hecks did I drink last night? How bad was it?

The memories of last night start to flood in, although they are fragmented beyond repair. The last thing I remember as clear as day is the time Eisuke and I met Jason at the bar. I vaguely recall us having a discussion over a few drinks and Eisuke walking out to take a call.

“That bastard,” I hiss, remembering the part where Jason showed me a new drink, the name of which I don’t remember, and asked me to try it. That’s where my brain starts getting fuzzy again.

A broken, foggy memory of the man laughing at my intoxicated ass passes through the front of my mind.

“Fuck.”

I got drunk.

Scratch that, I got wasted.

I got wasted at a meeting where I was supposed to remain in control of myself.

Damn it, Soryu. Could it get any worse?

That’s when I realise, yes, it could. And yes, it definitely did.

Wait a second. What happened after that? How did I make it back to the fucking room? Don’t tell me, did Eisuke bring me back?

I slowly lift myself up and walk back to the door of the bathroom. I try to remember what happened after I got completely inebriated but nothing comes to mind. My eyes sweep the room for a sign of anything that would help me at least piece the broken fragments of last night in some sort of a cohesive sequence. I don’t find any sign of Eisuke, but instead, my eyes stop at a note lying on his side of the bed.

Before I can so much as take a step in its direction, though, I feel the world go for a toss and my body once again turns back to the support of the toilet… only to throw up again. I hold the commode tightly as my body heaves, tired after spilling the contents of last night twice now. I take a moment to calm down and then get up and make my way towards the note I remember seeing.

Out of all the things to do, why the fuck did I do that?

Sweet mother of holy crap.

If Eisuke is to be believed, which he mostly is, the only way to describe my behaviour last night would be complete madness. My fingers clench around the paper in embarrassment, clutching it hard while my feet carry me back to the bathroom to clean myself up. Just when I think I have regained control over my exhausted self, I feel my stomach do a practice run-through of a gymnastics session as my body lurches forward, spilling its remaining contents into the toilet.

“Ah, shit,” I mutter, resting my head on the back of my palm, my eyes stinging with the pain of throwing up thrice this time, “I’m never drinking anything Jason gives me, ever again.”

“That sounds like a wise decision,” Ichinomiya butts in. Funny, because he doesn’t have a butt, really. Although cracking jokes right now isn’t really my best option.

My body agrees, because his voice coming out of nowhere makes my shoulders jump in an almost comedic way and I whip my head to look back at him like a literal deer caught in headlights. He’s keeping his jacket on the bed and chuckling at my reaction as we speak.

“I see you didn’t puke on the bed,” He smirks, undoing the top button of his shirt. “Very considerate of you.”

“Shut up, Ichinomiya,” I say, turning around and sitting down so that my back is against the toilet seat.

I hear his footsteps as I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I roll my head back, regretting everything that has led me to this situation. Before long, a dull pain starts pulsating through my head and that’s all it takes for me to know I’m in for a crappy headache for breakfast. Just as I am about to let out an annoyed groan, I hear Eisuke’s footsteps cease a short distance away. “Here, have this.”

I open my eyes slowly and blink a couple of times before looking up at him. He is leaning against the door leading to the bathroom, holding a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other.

I reach out to grab the bottle and take a pill out, muttering a low thanks, and take the glass of water from him. It doesn’t take me long to swallow the pill gratefully, and I notice Eisuke take a few steps forward and sit down beside me on the floor. My fingers freeze in the middle of tightening the bottle cap as I stare at him, then at the spot he is sitting on, then back at him.

Is this Ichinomiya? Or am I in some fucked up fantasy land?

I blink for a second or two before looking at him again.

There is no way in hell this pain in the ass without an ass is sitting on the floor right now.

“What.” He asks when he sees me staring at him for a whole minute… or at least a whole minute.

“Are you okay?”

He turns his head to look at me, raising a brow.

“Why is Your Royal Highness sitting on the floor of a bathroom?” I ask, overlooking the throbbing in my head for a moment to smirk at him. Of course, it’s just for a moment because the moment that moment gets over, my headache comes back to me with full force.

Needless to say, he ignores the jab. Instead, he bends his body a little closer to my own and looks up at me, and I almost lose my shit again at the actual look of concern he gives me. “Feeling better?” he asks, his face close enough that I can smell his cologne.

Which is worth noticing, because he doesn’t wear strong scents. “I… yeah, I’m fine,” I say, focusing on the way a few strands of his hair fall over his eyes. I’m not sure why I have a faint feeling that he is about to kiss me.

The moment that thought enters my mind, a few more fragments from yesterday come back to me. I vaguely remember bits and pieces of the scene where Eisuke helped me out of my business clothes and put on the casual ones. I recall a small bit where I brought my face closer to his and before I can walk through it any further, the memory cuts out, leaving a throbbing pain in its wake.

Wait… does that mean we kissed last night?

“Okay, enough small talk,” he says, stopping me from thinking any further, “We have a long day ahead of us and you might want to freshen up if you want to play a productive role in it.”

“Give me a break, my head feels like someone has opened a club in here.”

“You’ve got 20 minutes.”

... Motherfucker.

Soryu places the platinum key card in front of the card reader and the door to our room slides open to allow the both of us to enter. It is now eight-thirty in the evening, and the both of us are a little tired because wow, it was a long day.

Since I already finished the business part of our trip this morning with Jason, Soryu and I were free to do whatever we wanted for the rest of the day. I took him out for brunch to a private little restaurant just a little way away from the main city and gave him a run-down of the crux of what happened in the meeting this morning. After brunch, we went for a little sightseeing around town and on Soryu’s suggestion, checked out some of the local spots he knew about - much to my dismay, of course.

Why? Well, the crowds here are no joke, and we couldn’t take the limo so we had to walk around the city. Yes, we had to walk around the streets. In a city full of people. People left and right. People front and back. People here, people there. Basically every fucking where. No wonder I was drained out.

“Let’s pack our bags before calling it a night, yeah?” Soryu says, pulling me out of my reverie. I look around the room and find it to be just as clean and fresh as it was the night we checked in.

“Mm,” I hum, walking into the room and towards my suitcase. Placing it on the bed, I walk over and open the door to my side of the closet and take a handful of clothes. I start packing my bags and I see Soryu following suit.

He starts gathering his clothes and after he is done packing the ones in the closet, he reaches out to the ones we wore yesterday. They are placed on one side of the bed, clean and folded, thanks to the room service. As soon as his fingers come in contact with the blue shirt I made him wear to bed last night, I notice him pause mid-way.

“What is it?” I ask when he doesn’t move for a few moments. He doesn’t answer me immediately, looking almost as if he was in the middle of thinking something deep. “Earth to Soryu,” I call out again, and he finally gives a non-committal hum. “What is it?” I ask one more time, even though I hate repeating myself.

“Uh, some pieces of last night are coming back to me,” he says, closing his eyes as one of his hands starts massaging his temple.

That should be a good thing, right? What’s got him so serious?

I stop thinking when I see his eyes open in my periphery, and he slowly lifts his head up to look at me. “Did we kiss? I-I mean, did I kiss you last night?” He blurts out, and I look at him only to see his face looking in my direction without its usual emotionlessness.

Wait, is that even a word?

“I don’t-” he cuts in, stopping my thoughts midway, “Th- I don’t think that’s possib-”

“Yes.” I interrupt, not wanting him to dismiss it just like that. “Yes, we kissed last night.” He freezes completely. He just looks at me in what seems like complete shock, and doesn’t speak for a few moments before he finally comes to his senses.

“Fuck, I’m sorr-”

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” I say, taking a step towards him. “So, don’t.”

“No, Eisuke,” He says, taking a small step back, “You don’t get it. I was completely out of my mind and I shouldn’t have-”

“You don’t regret it, do you?” I ask, taking another step towards him to cut him off.

He takes another step back and pauses, contemplating. He looks like someone just asked him to give up on omelettes, which would be comical enough to make me chuckle any other day except right now, I am not in the mood for jokes.

“The kiss,” I repeat, taking another step in his direction.

Goddamnit, how many more times will I have to repeat myself in this one god forsaken day?

“Do you regret it, Soryu?” I ask, my voice low, and he tries to take another step back - only to bump into the wall behind him.

“Should I?” He suddenly says, looking up, his eyes staring into my own. I take the one last step towards him that brings us just mere inches away from each other.

“I don’t know about you,” I whisper, and I see his breath quicken, “But I don’t.”

“You don’t?” He repeats, his voice cracking. A light blush creeps into his cheeks as I take one small step forward, now almost pressing our bodies to each other’s.

I bring a finger up to his face and graze his jawline with it, slowly trailing it down his chin and along his neck. His eyes involuntarily close at the contact and he takes a sharp breath. “No, Soryu,” I whisper, my other hand finding its way to his side, lightly scratching over the cloth, “I don’t.”

I hear his breathing pick up some more pace as he dips his head, his forehead barely touching my shoulder. I bring my face closer to his ear and I feel him catch his breath, his body ceasing all movement.

“There seems to be a lot of confusion between us,” I whisper, and I watch as his body shudders slightly the moment those words leave my mouth, “How about we do something to ensure there is no more confusion?”

“A-and what is that?” He chokes out, nearly melting when my tongue slides down his ear.

Fuck, Soryu.

He lets out a pleased hum at the touch, and I barely manage to keep it all together.

Oh god, this is going to be the death of me.

His hands come to rest on my chest, his fingers folding against my shirt.

“Soryu Oh,” I whisper, my fingers reaching out to hold him by the back of his neck while my teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “Let me fucking kiss you.”

He gasps, his fingers coiling around the fabric of my shirt. After a pause, he answers me in breath so shallow I almost don’t catch it.

An answer that makes me lose my fucking mind.

“Okay.”

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

Text

Falling for You has Never been So Literal

Ao3 link

Summary: Virgil's too gay for this shit. He's outie. (Or Virgil saw a hottie. What's he supposed to do? Stay conscious? Unrealistic) Warnings: Fainting, gay too much, swearing, breaking promises (but in the best way possible don’t worry) Parings: Romantic sleepxiety, platonic prinxiety

Inspired by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors being just Too Gay and also fueling my inability to not write Too Gay

It had been a long day. Nothing new, of course- it was retail. What did Virgil expect? To be shown basic human decency? Unrealistic.

His shift only had an hour left to it, however, and Virgil was just hoping that his next customers could not be dicks. Was that too much to ask?

Speaking of demons, Virgil heard the sound of clicking approaching his stand, a lovely little spot shoved near one of the back corners of the store. There wasn't much to actually purchase here, so if someone was coming, it was almost definitely a customer approaching.

Mental fingers crossed for some very basic interaction that did not involve asking him to lower prices or any other crappy thing someone could come up with, Virgil ducked his head and waited for the customer to start handing over their soon-to-be purchases. A little awkward, yes, but what could he say? He wasn't a big fan of eye contact.

"I hope you found everything to your satisfaction." Virgil mumbled. Company policy to ask. He thought it was a little stupid, given customers who had a problem had a tendency to just tell you that, but it was still policy, and Virgil still didn't want to be fired just yet.

"Everything was just fine, darlin', thanks for asking." The customer replied as Virgil scanned through their purchases. Mostly just coffee beans and a few bottles of nail polish.

"That's good." Virgil said back, slightly more cognizant of the conversation. Responding wasn't strictly required, but it was preferred. And, well, he wasn't just going to say the customer had a nice voice, that would be weird, but, well... he was definitely thinking it.

Caught up in his totally not gay thoughts, Virgil finished the bagging automatically, pushing the groceries to the side as he punched in a few more things on the register. Finally, he actually looked up at the customer, about to ask how they planned on paying today.

His voice dried up in his throat before he even had the chance to use it, however, which probably had something to do with the fact that idling at his station was arguably the prettiest man he had ever seen.

The customer, aka Hottie McHottieFace, was sporting the absolutely most basic jeans, shirt, and (leather) jacket combo Virgil had ever seen, but it looked very, very good on him. Sunglasses were criminally hiding eyes that Virgil was relatively sure would kill him if he saw them, and his dark brown hair was pulled into a braid over his shoulder.

Worst of all, the customer was smirking at Virgil, intent probably harmless, but the consequences most certainly not.

Virgil wasn't sure how long he stood there, wordlessly gaping, face steadily turning into a cherry, but eventually the customer asked, voice teasing, "See somethin' you like, hun?"

Words, that's right, Virgil had to say words while looking at someone or it was rude. But upon moving his mouth, Virgil found that was apparently not a thing he could do anymore. He was fairly sure he was making some noises, but they were definitely not building themselves into any thing understandable

The whole 'clearly trying to speak and failing' thing wasn't going unnoticed by Hottie McHottieFace, who propped their sunglasses up with a frown and oh Virgil is not making it out of this alive, not when those sparkling green eyes were watching him, even if they were looking very concerned.

"Hey, uh... are you alright?" The customer asked, and Virgil would have loved to tell them absolutely not, please either leave or hold me, but then he reached over the counter to lightly place a hand on Virgil's arm, seemingly worried Virgil was going to fall over, and that was it. Virgil was out.

Virgil didn't completely remember how he went from standing and dying at his stand to lying, assumedly dead, on the floor, but he did remember the cause of it.

He reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning. Great. Super. Couldn't wait to explain this to his boss. 'Fainted because of gay.' He should get himself a sign. 'If you're cute do not shop here, please and thank you, the cashier is liable to fainting like an absolute fool if you do.'

"You up, babes?"

Oh. Virgil knew that voice.

Was it possible to faint again if you were already on the ground?

Instead of doing that, Virgil settled for shooting up like he had heard free money was being handed out. More black spots danced across his vision the minute he did that, something he really should have seen coming, but it was already pretty clear his brain was functioning on 'fried-by-the-gay' mode, and his common sense was severely lacking.

"Woahhhh, let's slow down there." Hottie McHottieFace said, gently pushing against Virgil's chest to get him to lie back down, as if he had already forgotten the exact reason why Virgil fainted in the first place. Hottie smirked. "I know I sound like an angel, but I really don't want to see you have another fainting spell. Especially considering you've already stuck me here for five minutes with your first one."

Virgil cringed a little at that, going to apologize, but Hottie waved him off before he could even open his mouth.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm not 'stuck' here." He said, smirk turning into more of a genuine smile. "I just figured it was pretty bad manners to just leave you." The smile turned smug once more, "I apologize also for the angel bit. I know I sound like one, but it really isn't fair to say that without pointing out you look like one."

Dead.

Virgil was dead.

Right?

This simply could not be real.

Grasping for literally anything he could use to stop the blush that was beginning to regrow across his face, Virgil finally noticed that Hottie, who was sitting next to him so that he didn't have to sit up to see him, was now only sporting his jeans and shirt.

"J-jacket." Virgil said. He hoped it sounded like a question. He also hoped Hottie just didn't hear him, because if his first words to him after all of this was 'jacket' he might as well just die of embarrassment right now.

Hottie raised an eyebrow, however, looking confused for a second before realizing what Virgil meant. "Where's my jacket?" He asked in confirmation, and Virgil nodded. Hottie's smirk only grew. "Did you think you were laying on a bag of flour, or...?"

Now it was Virgil's turn to look confused. Laying on... oh, there was something under his head.

Oh.

Kill him now. Please.

"Oh, good. Your processing skills are still intact." Hottie pointed out helpfully, glancing off towards a different end of the store. "Your boss said that was a thing I should keep track of, or something." Hottie glanced back at Virgil. "He's worried you gave yourself a concussion."

The salty part of Virgil would have loved to inform Hottie if anyone had given him a concussion, it would have been Hottie himself, since Virgil certainly hadn't planned for it. But the salty part was still barred by the fact he was currently working with one word per minute speaking wise.

"EMTs got called, too." Hottie added. "I mean, I assume you already saw that coming, but a head's up probably can't hurt."

Shit. Other people. If anything was going to stop him from being 100% a flustered mess, it would be the thought of having to interact with people he preferred not to tell the exact cause of his fainting spell.

Of course, he was still going to be roughly 94% flustered, but it was something.

Virgil moved to sit up, slowly this time, still gaining a very worried look from Hottie that he waved off. "I'm fine." He said, and his voice sounded like he had been screaming for an hour, but it was working, and that was pretty good if he did say so himself.

"Uh huh." Hottie said, disbelievingly, even as Virgil managed to get himself into a sitting position without falling back over. "Just be careful. I think your boss is going to kill me if he finds you fainted. Again."

"Why would he kill you?"

Hottie shrugged. "Beats me, sugar, but he seems to think I sabotaged your ability to remain awake. Don't know why, though, since that's a little ridiculous sounding, don't ya think?"

Ridiculous sounding, yes. Accurate? Also yes.

Virgil coughed. "Uh. Yeah. Ridiculous."

Luckily, Hottie didn't seem to pick up on his obvious bluff, holding out his hand instead. "Remy. Remy Starbucks."

Virgil raised an eyebrow as he took the hand. "Virgil. Is your last name really...?"

Remy laughed, and Virgil had to focus very hard on the fact that EMTs would be coming soon and he could absolutely not be flustered again, because Remy laughing was... nice just leave it at nice Virgil, damnit, if you start waxing poetic about him you're never going to stop looking flustered for the rest of your life.

"Nah, babes." Remy said as he released Virgil's hand, sitting back. "While it has been a spectacular ten minutes with you, you have spent half of them doing a very good impression of me without my coffee, and the other half mostly failing to speak. I'm not supposed to just hand out my last name to every good looking stranger I meet, now am I?"

Virgil fought down the sudden urge to give Remy his last name. He was 100% certain it wasn't nearly as sly of a move as he thought it was... but it would be a move.

Virgil was saved from making a decision on just how disastrous he wanted to be by the sound of someone approaching, quickly followed by his manager coming up behind Remy. He crouched down when he actually got to them, offering Virgil a bottle of water he readily accepted. "How are you feeling?"

Virgil shrugged as he drank the water. "Fine."

His manger frowned. "Yeah. That's why you fainted. You just felt too fine."

No, I fainted because the customer was too fine. Virgil thought in annoyance. Get your facts right.

"Listen, I am fine." Virgil repeated. "I just..." He glanced over at Remy, who was apparently also interested in the reason behind him fainting. "Just, uh... tired."

"You were tired?" His managed replied.

Virgil nodded his head as seriously as he could. "Just didn't get enough sleep last night, I guess." He said, hoping the lie wouldn't be too obvious. Probably helped his case he always looked tired, at least.

His manager didn't look entirely impressed, but it was deemed good enough. "Alright. Well, you still have to wait for the EMTs to make sure you don't have any serious head injuries from your fall, but assuming they clear you, consider your shift off for the day. Actually, take tomorrow too." The manager threw in. "Take a nap. I can't have my employees fainting on me become a common thing."

Virgil gave him a mostly sarcastic salute as his manager stood back up, glancing towards the nearest doors as the sound of sirens approached. "I'm going to go grab them." He said, heading off once more.

Remy watched him run off before turning back to Virgil. "So, can I assume you've got this all under control?" He asked, adding, "Under control as in you don't need random customer who's done nothing but sit around and be snarky to stick around?"

"You don't have to stay, no." Virgil answered, immediately panicking barely a second after the words were out of his mouth, rushing to continue with, "But, uh, my manager might, um, want to give you something as thanks for, y'know, sitting next to me." He said, angrily fighting off his once-more rising blush.

"Yeah. I'm sure that's the only reason I should stay." Remy said, voice lilting and wow here Virgil was, a dumbass, really thinking he really had a chance to survive this experience when he had a million dumb gay brain cells. "But as nice as a five dollar coupon would be, I have a meeting I can't miss, so I'm 'fraid I'll have to skip it."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Virgil said, trying not to sound disappointed. "You should, uh, you should really go then. Don't want to be late or anything."

"I'm already late, doll, don't worry about that." Remy said, winking at Virgil before he flipped his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Fashionably so, of course."

"Of course." Virgil echoed automatically.

Remy scooped up his bag of groceries, which had been lying next to him, and snagged his jacket from where it was sitting, folded up and at the moment useless, behind Virgil. Before standing up, however, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a receipt paper and handing it to Virgil.

"I know I'm supposed to keep that, but it was the only paper I had on me." Remy said with a smirk as he stood up. "If you really need to fulfill your cashier duties, though, well, I hear you have tomorrow off. Call me. We'll make a date of it." Remy said, blowing Virgil a kiss before turning and walking away. He stopped right before the doors, taking a moment to look back one last time and add, "Oh, and feel better, sweetie," before he was truly gone.

Virgil moved a hand to his face, unhappy but not in the least surprised to find it burning. Hand still on face, he looked down at the receipt he had been given, only to find some very swirly writing declaring the number scrawled across it to be Remy's. Virgil didn't know how, but somehow his face got even warmer.

Virgil was still busy trying not to die when he heard a group approaching, glancing over at the doors to see his manager returning with two EMTs. Stuffing the receipt in his pocket, he tried to look as alright as he claimed.

He considered it quite rude the first thing they mentioned was how red he looked.

Twenty minutes later and too many questions about why he had fainted (complete with one of the EMTs asking him suspiciously if being tired was all that had caused it in a tone Virgil didn't care very much for) and Virgil was finally free to go home.

Well. Free to go home as soon as someone picked him up, since apparently being tired enough to faint at random posed a serious risk to his driving ability and he wasn't allowed to do that. He was tempted to just drive home anyways, but his manager apparently didn't want anymore liabilities on his watch, and had helpfully taken Virgil's keys away.

So he was waiting.

Eventually, after ten minutes that had felt like forever, a car pulled up to the curb in front of the store, stopping in front of him. Even if he didn't already know what his roommate's car looked like, the Disney stickers plastered over literally every surface of it was all the identification Virgil needed.

He pulled open the passenger door and slumped into the seat, not surprised to find the Frozen soundtrack playing. After a minute where the car didn't start moving, Virgil glanced at Roman in annoyance.

"Are you going to go?"

"Not until you buckle-up, buttercup." Roman replied, sing-song.

Virgil sneered. "Why?"

"So I don't get a ticket just because you're lazy and angsty." Roman replied. "And don't say you're not being angsty, because I just know you were about to say you're not going to do anything that'll increase your chances of remaining in this 'dark, joyless world.'" Roman said the last bit much more dramatically than Virgil felt he had to, leaning back and putting the back of his hand to his forehead with a melodramatic sigh.

"I don't talk like that." Virgil said defensively.

"No, you just say those words." Roman agreed. "But not with nearly enough emotion. I'm just trying to make you seem exciting."

"That goes against everything I stand for."

"Just put on your seatbelt."

Virgil grumbled some more, but he did as requested, happy when Roman actually started them moving. For a few minutes, everything was fine, Roman's music a little loud but Virgil having long since learned that trying to turn it down only resulted in Roman singing it louder.

When Roman reached out and turned it down, however, Virgil knew he was in for twenty questions, a game he really didn't want to play when the final answer was 'fainted out of gay.' Roman would literally never let it go.

"So." Roman started, trying to sound casually conversational and failing entirely. "You fainted."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Fuck you, Watson." Roman replied before pushing on, "You don't do that a lot."

"Thank you, Capt' Obvious."

Roman rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to ask why, Fainting Beauty."

Virgil shrugged non-committedly. "'Tired."

Roman side-eyed Virgil. "You don't faint when you get tired, though. You get more and more grumpy until someone wrestles you to bed." Roman said, only speaking a little (read: a lot) from experience. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Which means you're lying about why you fainted, which means the real reason must be-"

"-Unimportant." Virgil cut him off. "Something happened, I fainted, and I don't have a concussion. End of story."

"I don't think it is." Roman said, grinning. "Come on. You know I'm not going to let this go. You might as well tell me."

Virgil glared at Roman, annoyed that he was right. Roman wouldn't drop the matter for weeks if that's what it took to figure out the real story. He sighed. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I swear it on my brother's grave!"

"Your brother's not dead."

"I swear it on my brother!"

"You're just going to take the name of Patton in vain like that?"

Roman huffed in annoyance. "No sense of dramatics in you at all." He complained. "I promise, alright, just spill the tea already."

Virgil hunched in on himself a bit, feeling silly as he admitted, quietly, "It was a cute guy."

"What did you say?"

Virgil cleared his throat and said again, louder, "It was a cute guy."

"I'm sorry, you're really going to have to speak up-"

"I SAID IT WAS A CUTE GUY."

Roman smirked. "Heard you the second time."

Virgil punched his arm. "Jerk."

"I know." Roman said smugly. "Now, details!!!"

"What details?" Virgil asked, annoyedly. "I saw a cute dude and I fainted because of it."

"Yeah, you swooned over him! How romantic! How magnificent! How gay!" Roman exclaimed. "You have to give! Me! The details! How cute is he? Can you see the universe in his eyes? Did he smile and you went weak at the knees? Did he introduce you to a world you didn't know existed?!"

"Our interaction lasted for, like, ten minutes Roman." Virgil pointed out in exasperation. "And I was busy being gay-dead for five minutes of that."

"Five minutes conscious is all you need to fall hopelessly in love." Roman assured him.

"I did not fall 'hopelessly in love' with him."

"Surrrrrrrrre." Roman drawled. "At least tell me you got totally-your-true-love's name?"

"Yes...?"

"Perfect!" Roman said excitedly. "Now you just keep an eye out for him, ask other cashiers to look for him, all that, and eventually, when you find him again, with my careful wingmanning we will get you the best second-meet-cute that can be artificially created!"

"That sounds really excessive and borderline creepy." Virgil pointed out.

Roman pouted. "Well how do you propose we get you and your soulmate properly matched together, then?"

"Well, I could just call him." Virgil responded, so caught up in being snarky that he forgot that sometimes, keeping secrets was helpful.

Roman squealed loud enough Virgil thought he was going to go deaf and, yeah, this was one of those times. "YOU HAVE HIS NUMBER?!"

"Yeah, I do." Virgil confirmed as he snapped next to his ear, a little relieved to find his hearing was, in fact, intact.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" Roman exclaimed, much too loudly for the confined space. "You have to call him right now!!"

"I think I will not do that." Virgil responded. "Not with you in the car, anyways."

"Why ever not?!"

"Because you'll take the phone from my hand and set us up before I have a chance to say so much as 'hi.'"

"Blasphemy!" Virgil looked at Roman, unimpressed. Roman sighed. "Alright, maybe a little accurate." Pause. "Alright a LOT accurate. But still! You have to at least text him!"

"And why do I have to do that?"

"So you can be together and have literally the cutest getting together story ever. Duh." Roman responded like it was obvious.

"Invalid reason."

"And why's that?"

"Because you're the only one who knows about this." Virgil answered. "And you are never, ever going to tell anyone else that's why I fainted."

Roman looked scandalized at this new information. "But Virgil!"

"Nope. No buts." Virgil cut him off before he could say more. "You are not telling or so help me I will throw his number right out the window."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, bitch." Virgil threatened. He left out the fact that the number was already saved in his phone, Remy's contact name stereotypically followed with a heart.

Roman sighed. "You live to torture me." He bemoaned. "But fine. If you promise to actually text him and at least schedule one date, I'll keep your gay secret."

"For real? And for ever?" Virgil checked. "This better not come up later, Princey."

"For ever and ever." Roman said with a flourish of his hand. "And if I so break your trust, you can dump him and blame me."

Virgil knew the promise was good. If there was anything more important to Roman than sharing embarrassing gay moments, it was actively supporting the gays in his life. "Deal."

"Magnificent!" Roman said. "Now, go be a dear and get! That! Boy!"

Virgil smirked. "We're already having lunch tomorrow."

"You already set up a date?!?! And you used having a date as blackmail against me?!?!"

"Yep."

"Touché, sir, touché." Roman said, before grinning mischievously. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, right?"

"I'd expect nothing less from you." Virgil replied. "Hence the whole protecting my secret first thing."

"Oh, don't worry Virgil." Roman assured him. "I'll figure something out."

And with that slightly ominous warning, Roman turned the music back up, immediately jumping into singing, the Frozen soundtrack having moved into Little Mermaid.

Virgil tried not to take it to heart that the song now playing was "Poor Unfortunate Souls."

~Time skip of roughly a year and a half~

Virgil was starting to have some doubts about making Roman best man.

It wasn't like he really had a choice- Roman was his closest friend, and given Roman refused to drop the idea he had, in some way, been a deciding factor in keeping Virgil and Remy's relationship going, Virgil doubted Roman would have even allowed himself to be anything other than best man.

But looking at Roman now, Virgil was almost certain he was up to some sort of trickery, and Virgil was pretty sure it was going to be very, very bad for him.

He had been nothing short of perfect throughout most of the ceremony, making sure everyone was in their places, showing people to their seats even though there was an usher, worrying over everything at a level to rival Virgil's worry. You almost would have thought it was Roman's wedding.

But now it was the after party, Virgil still mouthing the word 'husband' to himself over and over like it was unreal, and Roman was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Virgil didn't know what he was planning, but he was planning something. Virgil was almost tempted to demand answers from him, but before he could properly work up the energy to stand up and move in a direction that didn't bring him closer to Remy, Roman was standing at the front of the room, tapping a mic to get everyone's attention. Apparently it was time for the best man's speech.

"Hello guys, gals, and non-binary pals!" He said, loudly, proudly, dramatically. "For those who have lived their lives in shameful ignorance of true talent and beauty, I'm Roman, and I will be the most entertaining part of your evening."

"Rude." Virgil murmured to Remy, who just chuckled.

"You knew this would happen."

"Doesn't make it less rude."

"I can hear the criticism from here." Roman said, once more gaining the grooms' attention. "Though I may, for exactly once in my entire life, deserve it."

"The best present you could have gotten us: a little, tiny bit of humility." Virgil called back, the crowd of guests laughing.

Roman shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? I, of all people, am not blind to neither love nor beauty. And it would be a crime against both to not acknowledge that the true show-stopper of this evening, this day, and likely this entire week will be our two handsome new husbands." He said, sincere. "They are, honestly, the cutest couple I have ever known."

The crowd 'awwwwwww'-ed at this, turning to clap once more at the newly weds. Remy happily took the excuse to wrap an arm around Virgil's shoulders, pulling him closer.

Virgil smiled around his blush. Turns out not even more than a year's worth of dating could change the fact that Remy was the finest man Virgil had ever seen, or cure his Gay. Virgil was just content with the fact he hadn't fainted while they exchanged vows.

"And speaking of cute, every good couple has an amazing meet-cute." Roman continued, his grin turning mischievous, and suddenly Virgil realized exactly what his plan was. "And with our lovely couple here, well, rest assured when I tell you they have the cutest meet cute. Care to hear it?" He asked the guests.

The crowd cheered him onwards, giving Roman time to glance at Virgil, who was desperately trying to telepathically send Roman death threats if he continued onwards. Roman just winked at him.

"I'll take that as a yes." Roman said, turning his attention back to the crowd. Virgil groaned and turned to stuff his face in Remy's side.

"Kill me now."

"You're gonna have to speak up, sweetheart." Remy said, the arm around Virgil's shoulder shifting a little to comb through Virgil's hair while still holding him. "Despite common belief, my ears are not located in my sides."

Virgil moved his head just enough to put his mouth in the air, his voice not muffled this time as he said, "Kill me now."

"But I just got married to you!"

"Roman hates our love."

"How so?" Remy asked, still amused. "I know how we met, darling, I was there."

"You don't though." Virgil moaned.

Remy raised an eyebrow, something Virgil could actually see since Remy had agreed that, for their wedding, he could briefly lose the shades. "Maybe I should listen in, then, huh?" Remy teased, and before Virgil could beg him no please do NOT you'll kill me on our wedding day and that would suck, his husband had kissed him and turned his attention to Roman.

Unfair, Virgil considered in silence, that Remy could still fluster him into silence with something as simple as a kiss.

"Most of you know that Virgil and Remy met in the most romantic place possible: a grocery store." Roman's voice fell flat for a moment before he went back to sounding excited, "And they were brought together by the magic of Virgil fainting. Though the swooning was most certainly romantic, the fact that he fell onto the floor instead of into Remy's arms was a fairly huge detriment to their cute points.

"But there is a very important part of this story that you, my fine folks, are missing out on, an overlook that cannot be allowed to stand. The reason behind Virgil's fainting spell was not caused by common sleep-deprivation, as he claimed. The real reason behind it all was..." Roman paused, dramatics winning out over his desire to say it as quickly as possible, and Virgil went back to hiding his face in Remy's side as if that would block out Roman finishing his sentence with, "being too gay to function."

There was an oooh from the crowd, and Roman nodded in faux sympathy. "It's true! Virgil, poor, sweet, incredibly gay Virgil saw the absolutely stunner that is Remy and found not a single one of his brain cells could cope." Roman smirked. "Though he did walk away from it with pretty boy's number in hand, so maybe he's got more game than all of us combined."

"Got married faster too!" Remy called out, and Virgil wasn't sure if he was going to die of embarrassment or if he was going to die of love for Remy.

Was both an option? Maybe he'd go with both.

Roman's grin just grew as he pointed at Remy. "That he did, sir! That he did!"

Roman let the guests stop laughing again before he continued, "Now, I wish to assure you all that if I wanted to make this a good ol' fashioned best man speech, I could. If you think the dude who met his husband through gay fainting doesn't have more embarrassing stories to be told, you've never met Virgil. I could sit up here for another five minutes and go on til the cows came home.

"But, I do have a little pity for my former roommate, and given that I haven't seen his face for a full minute, I'm thinking he's already as embarrassed as I need to make him to fulfill my job as best man, so I think I'll cut him a little slack and stop it here." Roman said, laughing at the disappointed sigh from the crowd. "I'm sorry to leave you unsatisfied, but I'm not here to make dear Virgil's wedding day his funeral as well."

Too late for that. Virgil thought bitterly. Very much too late for that.

"So with that in mind, I'd like to propose a toast!" Roman said, grabbing his glass from where it had been sitting on the table in front of him, raising into the air. "To Virgil, the gay that went all in on the 'gay disaster' aesthetic, and made out incredibly successfully!"

The guests raised their glasses, echoing the chant exactly, as if they were all there not to see Virgil wed but to have a hand in his murder. Virgil was fairly certain Remy joined in as well, which was complete betrayal on his husband's part if he did say so himself.

The noise died for a brief moment, everyone silenced with their drinks, and when it came back it was quieter, murmurs around the room. Virgil still stubbornly refused to remove his face from the safety of Remy's side, however, only scooting closer when his husband tried to pull away and reveal him.

A pair of footsteps approached them a moment later, Virgil able to discern them from the crowd only because he was good at hearing traitors. They stopped in front of him and Remy, their traitorous cause laughing.

"Aww, did I get him that bad?" Roman asked Remy.

"He doesn't want to show his face." Remy answered, ignoring the muffled gasp Virgil gave when Remy dared to positively interact with the betrayer. "Which is unfair given I'm sure he looks adorable just about now."

Remy just chuckled when Virgil mad angry noises into his shirt. "I can't hear you, babes."

Virgil continued his angry mumbles without an attempt to explain them.

"He really is cute, ain't he?" Roman agreed. Virgil made an extra loud angry noise.

"And so angry." Roman added, voice still teasing.

In pure annoyance, Virgil tilted his head up just enough to free his mouth, muttering to Remy, "Throw a fork at him."

There was a slight clang noise and than an 'ouch!' from Roman. "What'd you do that for?!"

Remy's shoulders moved as he shrugged, and Virgil smirked, "It was requested by the cutest person in the world."

Virgil finally pulled away from Remy at this, openly gaping at Remy as he hit his arm. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"And I am!" Remy assured him, arms shooting out to grab Virgil's hands before he could get them away. He pulled them close to him, lifting Virgil's left so he could plant a kiss over Virgil's new, shiny ring. "But that doesn't change the fact that you are, inarguably, the cutest most amazing man I have ever met, and I refuse to remain silent about this fact for even a second, love."

Virgil's face turned red so fact he was surprised his hair didn't literally start to smoke. "I hate you." He mumbled, though any heat to it was busy turning his cheeks redder than roses.

"Bullshit." Remy said happily.

"Gaaaaaaay." Roman helpfully commentated, gaining a glare from Virgil and an amused look from Remy.

"Enjoy it." Virgil bit at him. "This will be your last chance to see me gay and happy."

"And why's that?" Roman asked with a smug grin.

"Because I'm going to die of embarrassment in five minutes." Virgil said solemnly. "Now that not only everyone, but also my husband, knows I am a weak, useless gay in every single way, I have no choice but to perish."

"Babes, I can tell this is heartbreaking for you, so I'm not one hundred percent sure how to tell ya this..." Remy paused for a moment, mouth quirking into a smile when Virgil looked distrustfully at him. "Well you weren't exactly subtle about it."

"No." Virgil said instinctively.

Remy nodded sadly. "Yep."

Virgil blinked at him a few times, ignoring Roman's barely withheld laughter, before saying, "Change of plans. I'm going to die one year and many months ago, after I fainted. Saves me a lot of trouble."

"Nooooooo." Remy whined. "No dying. I just married you. You're not allowed to die on the day of our wedding. Or to time travel to your death on the day of our wedding."

"Unfair. And I thought you loved me."

"It's because I love you and your cute, adorably weak gay heart that I refuse to let you die."

"You're too sweet." Virgil complained, leaning forward to kiss Remy before resting his forehead against his. "Which is why I hate to tell you that if I'm not allowed to die, I have to divorce you."

"You can't blackmail into letting you die."

"This isn't about blackmail." Virgil told him, turning to glare at Roman. "This is about Roman breaking his promise to never tell. I told him if he ever broke the promise I'd break up with you. And I have to be a weak gay of my promises. If you have a problem with this, I invite you to throw more forks at Roman."

Remy picked up another fork from the table, raised it, and aimed it. Roman turned away defensively, waiting for the projectile to hit…

But then Remy put it down.

"Nah. No problem for me, sugar." Remy said slyly, gently cradling Virgil's face with one hand and turning Virgil's gaze back towards him, smiling softly. "'Cause if you divorce me, I'll just have to chase you down, probably date you all over again, fall in love with you all over again, marry you all over again." His smile grew as he cupped Virgil's face now with two hands. "Twice the perfect memories sounds pretty good to me."

"I- You can't-" Virgil laughed, sounding a little watery, which might be because he was a few more sweet words away from crying in joy. He reached forward, wrapping one hand loosely around the back of Remy's neck and carding his fingers into the base of Remy's hair with the other, ignoring as Roman discreetly walked off. "You're going to make me faint again, Rem."

"That's alright, too." Remy assured him, scooting forward with his chair, pressing their legs together as he leaned forward to kiss Virgil properly, still smiling so softly, so adoringly, so lovingly as he pulled away and once more pressed their foreheads together, trapping them in their own little world, where all that mattered was each other, blocking out the guests and noise outside of their little bubble. "Because this time?

"I'll catch you."

#anyways turns out I'm an awful liar #because like #two days ago #I said I don't write plotless fluff #yet HERE WE ARE #what can I say?#I like the gays #the cryptid speaks #ts virgil #ts roman #ts sleep #ts remy #sleepxiety #platonic prinxiety #ts sides #sander sides #fanfic #fanfiction #violet

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saltnhalo · 5 years

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And if I claim to be a wise man, Clearly means that I don't know. (Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas ;))

this was such a hard one to write, simply because of the weight of the song, and how many damn lyrics it has :P

When Dean sells his soul, he’s given a year to live. How the fuck does someone fit an entire lifetime into one year?He gives it his best short. Crosses things off his bucket list, gets too drunk too often, maxes out his cards, both fake and real, and drives too fast along the highway. It’s surprisingly easy to live life when you know your actions won’t matter in a year, eleven months, ten, eight, five.

When he has a month to go, Dean goes to see a fortune teller.

He was expecting an old lady, and a crystal ball, and lots of vague non-statements. It’s mostly a curiosity thing, at this point—he’s not actually convinced that he’s going to get any proper answers.

But when he enters the shop, it’s neat and clean and well-organised, and the person behind the counter is neither old nor female. He’s quite handsome, in fact, with his blue eyes and dark hair and the way he seems to quietly command Dean’s attention without even having said anything.

“Are you the fortune teller?” Dean asks, side-eyeing a row of books on the shelf to his right that seem, at first glance, to be legitimate spellbooks. What are the chances that he’s accidentally stumbled across someone who actually knows their shit?

Still, even if monsters and demons are real, that doesn’t mean people can tell fortunes. That doesn’t mean that fate exists, or has any kind of control over him.The man looks him slowly up and down from behind his counter. “I am the fortune teller, yes.”

Clearly, no-one’s told this guy that fate isn’t actually real—or dissuaded him from smoking two packs a day because holy shit, surely no one has a voice that deep and that attractive.

“And who might you be?”

Dean steps closer, and returns the up-and-down appraisal that he’d received. The joke’s on him, though, because the guy is even prettier up close. “My name is Dean,” he says. “Dean Winchester. I’ve come to have my fortune told.”

He can’t help but lift the corner of his mouth in a smirk as he says that, because it sound so stupid, but he sees no such expression reflected on the man’s face. The only acknowledgement that he gives of having even heard Dean at all is the way he slowly arches one eyebrow.

“Good to meet you, Dean Winchester. My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel… What, no last name? Just ‘Castiel’? Like Cher?”

The man blinks slowly at him, and it’s like those blue eyes can see right through to Dean’s soul. “Just Castiel,” he says finally, electing to ignore the rest of Dean’s dumbass statement. It’s probably for the best. “I do not charge for fortune tellings. Please.” He gestures to the stool standing next to the counter. “Take a seat.”

Dean frowns, and doesn’t move. “Don’t charge? What do you mean, don’t charge? That’s not what your website says, and I—“

Castiel holds up his hand, and Dean stops in his tracks.

“Like I said,” he repeats, and this time there’s the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. “I do not charge.”

And so Dean eyes him warily, and with more than just a hint of confusion, then sits down at the offered stool. He watches as Castiel takes his own seat opposite him, and they stare at each other across the counter.

A good minute passes of those blue eyes boring into his soul before Dean gets too antsy to keep still and quiet any longer.

“So how does this work?” he blurts out. “Do you have cards, or, like, a crystal ball or something?”

Castiel blinks at him—and then, slowly, the line of his lips softens into a smile.

“No cards,” he says quietly. “No crystal ball. I already know what your future holds, Dean Winchester.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath. What has he seen? It seems foolish to hope that there’s some way of getting out of his one-way ticket to Hell, but… if there is, he has to know. He’d come here as a joke, at first, but if there’s actually something…

“Well?” he prompts, when Castiel stays silent. “What do you see?”

The silence between them is heavy and tense as Castiel rests his elbows on the countertop and steeples his fingers. It draws out, and out, until finally, it breaks.

“Lots,” Castiel says simply.

Lots? How the fuck can Dean’s future hold lots if he’s going to die in just a month?

“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning across the counter while his brain goes what the fuck, what the fuck on a loop. “How can there be lots?”

Castiel arches an eyebrow, and Dean realizes too late that that’s not a thing normal people say. Still, Castiel doesn’t comment on it—just watches Dean, with those eyes that feel as though they’ve seen so much more than Dean could ever know.

“If I claimed to have all the answers in the world, would you believe me? Would you believe anything I said?”

Dean pauses, and lets himself think about that. Castiel must be able to see it in his eyes, because he hums quietly.

“Exactly,” he says. “I can’t tell you what I see, but I can tell you that there is much your future still has in store for you. There is a lot of noise, and your fate is not a simple one. But as long as you rise above it…” He trails off, a knowing spark in his eye, and Dean’s heart hammers against his chest.

“Rise above what?” he asks. “Above fate?”

But Castiel is already shaking his head.

“I’m afraid our time here is up, Dean. I have much else that I must attend to. Business to get in order, things to get into place. It has been a pleasure meeting you, and I am sure we will meet again one day.”

He stands, and offers Dean his hand. It’s clear he’s not going to get any more answers out of this weird, cryptic man today, so Dean stands as well, and shakes it.

When his palm touches Castiel’s, just for a moment, it feels like a frisson of electricity that races across his skin and makes his hair stand up on end. Something so much bigger and more powerful than him, more so than he could ever imagine.

And then the feeling dissipates, and Castiel is just a normal man once more, watching Dean serenely as he lets his hand fall back to his side.

Dean leaves the shop with more questions than answers, and certainly more questions than he’d begun the day with. He thinks about Castiel’s words all through the evening, and they keep him up into the early hours of the morning too. When he wakes, groggy from lack of sleep and the thoughts that won’t leave him alone, circling around and around in his head, he decides to go back to the shop.

But when he returns… He finds that there’s nothing there at all.

Just an empty lot, and an abandoned gas station.

A month later, the hellhounds come.

Dean’s last thought, as he’s dragged down to Hell, is—

Castiel lied to me.

There hadn’t been lots. There had only been a single month, full of fear and misplaced hope.

He lied.

Dean spends forty years in Hell.

Is this the future Castiel had seen for him, the sadistic bastard?

His grief turns to anger, and to rage.

When he picks up the knife, he thinks of blue eyes.

When he’s pulled from Hell, Dean can’t comprehend what’s happening. Everything is light, and noise, and pain, and there are claws sunk deep into the meat of his shoulder. Surely this is another form of torture, he thinks.

And then he wakes up.

He wakes up, and he’s whole.

It takes so long to claw his way out of his own grave, but compared to the eons he’s spent in Hell, it feels like nothing.

He hauls himself out of the earth and collapses onto his back, breathing in fresh air for the first time in forty years and staring up at the sky.

His life has begun again… and there is more that his future holds.

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #profoundnet #spncreatorsdaily #canonverse #canon adjacent #angel castiel #fic #emma's writing #deancas #spn

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

February 3: Mr. Robot 3x09

So this was episode was pretty different from the last!

Last week's episode feels even more like a quiet, slow respite in comparison to this one. Actually, the last couple of episodes do, because Frederick and Tanya was mostly about Mobley and Trenton. And two episodes before that was the highly stylized single-shot ep. Now we're fully back to several different story lines all up to 100 happening at once.

I like it but I cannot honestly explain what I just saw or precisely what happened, plot wise.

The Dom and Darlene scenes were among my favorites of the whole show, first because I love them both, and second because I DO ship it, even though of course it's obvious Darlene was playing her the whole time. But like... I do think she likes her also. And seeing this other side of Dom... Seeing her nervous and trying to flirt and failing, pretending she doesn't herself know what she's doing, then fighting with herself about what she wants and what she thinks is right or wrong. And the spy game stuff of Darlene getting into the safe... all awesome. And then Dom later like showing her loyalty to the Bureau—I will report my sex life to the federal government. And Santiago wanting a minute-by-minute accounting lol.

Speaking of--almost as good was how close Dom got to Santiago. Again, I am struck by how well plotted this show is. Like, this is a little more than a season away from the finale, but it could almost have been the all-too-happy, all-too-sudden ending of the whole thing. If it weren't for Santiago, if the Dark Army WEREN'T in the FBI, then Darlene could have clued the FBI into Romero's deus ex machina keylogger data, and they could 'undo the hack' and then that would be it! I mean plus all the other threads, but that could be a major part of the neat and tidy conclusion. But instead, it just sets off a different domino effect because of the presence of the well-established mole.

I didn't entirely follow all of the Elliot and Mr. Robot and Tyrell stuff. The out-of-order timeline thrown in there casually among all the OTHER stuff that was happening made it hard for me to figure out exactly what was happening there. I got that Elliot used the fake out of Stage Three to get the meeting with whiterose ('s boyfriend) and then own the Dark Army and that he was also simultaneously relying on Darlene and the Sentinel hack, that is, he would take down the Dark Army while she saved ECorp, essentially saving the day somehow I suppose. But the emotional journey of Mr. Robot I don't get as much.

I know he went to Tyrell's in order to yell at him, I guess, and then Price comes and gives Tyrell the CTO figurehead job, and schools Mr. Robot about being a real leader, and Tyrell and Mr. Robot together basically become bitter and angry? And then Tyrell tells Mr. Robot about the mole. And then Mr. Robot goes home and googles Sentinel and Tyrell and then he goes away and Elliot is back. That's all I really remember/understood and it doesn't feel very clear to me. I'm not saying that's on the show; it's on me because I just wasn't following it as well as the other story lines, probably because Mr. Robot and Tyrell just interest me less lmao, so I wasn't paying good attention. It's also possible that it just ISN'T as clear, because there is a lot of the unsaid in this show.

My mom suggested that Mr. Robot, knowing or predicting that Elliot would try to hack Sentinel, was trying to give him a message about how particularly dangerous this would be, which is plausible, especially since I think Mr. Robot knows more about Elliot (the Hacker) than vice versa, but again, the timeline is a little uncertain for me.

Angela is full on gone by now. Her sleek apartment being turned into a fortress/bunker was truly disturbing, and the most disturbing part wasn't the mess or the pictures of unknown stuff on the walls or the 50 locks on the door but how she kept all of these small objects that had been in the room with her when she was brainwashed. Like, she really doesn't have control of herself right now. She IS A puppet.

Grant is really coming into his own. That last scene with him and whiterose was very interesting. The last time I saw whiterose, I felt like it was really being revealed that she was the master all along—not locked in a match of wills with Price but always his superior, putting him into and taking him out of power at her whim, just like she does everything at her whim. Now... I don't know. I don't think this ep contradicted that reading exactly, but it did show how she is truly unhinged and starting to unravel more and more. In other words, there may not be anyone above her, but she’s certainly not in control either, possibly not even of herself. She’s not infallible and she doesn’t always, immediately, get what she wants. And so her sort of ceding to Grant at the end—and why switch to Mandarin? And make her voice softer?—don’t entirely know what to make of it or if I’m even making sense now lol. This is all a coherent thought somewhere in my brain. At any rate Grant felt like her partner more than her boy toy for the first time.

I don’t like the casual mention of ‘oh btw martial law’ just slipping into dialogue because while I love the world building on this show in general, and recognize that a lot of major aspects of the post-5/9 world are shown in bits and pieces in the background (like the whole Congo plot! Which is pretty important to the overarching narrative!), the very throwaway nature of the line made me think that actually, they’re not aware in the writers’ room of what martial law is. It doesn’t mean what you think it means. It’s not a synonym for “armed police presence” or “curfews” lmao. And frankly after last summer, which I know post-dates this show, I get more upset at the idea of the phrase being thrown around casually and incorrectly.

A few more random thoughts: I love/miss Romero and I appreciate how his character largely existed to show how everyone else in fsociety was basically just a child lol. Not literally but he WAS the adult in the room. Darlene was hella hot today. Price is THE best villain of all time I will not be taking criticism on this post. I appreciate the use of a Joey Bada$$ song in the bar scene. Leon versus Angela was a show down I didn’t know I needed but I am living for it.

Only one more ep left this season! I saw the finale but I never saw the majority of S4 because I thought I’d do a re-watch first…and it’s taken me until now to do that. So I’m pretty excited to finish this season up and see the conclusion.

#the year 2021 #2021: mr robot #2021: fandom thoughts

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Fidget Spinners XIII (FINAL FINaLLY)

“Pax Two, how am I supposed to trust you as one of my spies if this is what you do when I call in a favor?”

Pax squirmed.

He was often uncertain whether or not Mercedes was joking. Her dark eyes tended to be a mask of seriousness, leading others to believe she had no sense of humor. Pax knew better. Or he thought he had.

“What did I ask you to do?” she asked.

They were standing in the last spot he’d seen her before going to Tartarus. As much as he tried to convince her and the others that Tartarus had been a picnic and that they should seriously consider the touristism possibilities, Luke’s amnesia and everyone’s injuries said otherwise. Once Pax was okayed to walk around the ship, he was immediately called into the spy barracks.

“What did I ask you to do?” Mercedes asked. Her hair was swept back by a beige hijab today. Pax could see a pin poking out of the right side of the material and wondered if she’d put it on in a hurry. He loved teasing her when one of her pins—either the one on the upper side or the one at the base of her chin—was visible.

Today was not a good day to tease her.

“What did I ask you to do, Pax two?” she said again when he gave no response.

After a few days bed rest, this was not the reception he had been expecting. He had hoped for balloon animals that he could pop them around the unsuspecting. That’s what Matthias would have given him. As far as Pax could tell, Matthias hadn’t been allowed to see him. No one had.

Pax had been grounded. Why bother escaping your homicidal, psychopathic family if you’re just going to get grounded by a slightly less homicidal, psychopathic family? he mused.

Today was also not a day to ask that question.

“Why bother—” Pax started to say despite that conclusion. When he caught sight of Mercedes’ dark eyes, he looked down at his combat boots. “I never agreed not to go,” he said.

The last few days of bed rest, he’d been working on something for her. He had it in his jacket pocket, making the whole thing bulge like the least conspicuous puppy smuggling. Pax twisted the fabric in his hands.

“Lies are an intent to deceive, not just a statement of untruth. I will not work with someone who bases their interpretation of orders off technicalities, especially when they know those interpretations are erroneous, Ajax.”

Ajax. Not Pax Two. Not Pax. Now, Pax understood why Mercedes said to guard his name. He’d started to attach a mysticism to it and enjoyed thinking of when Alabaster would say it. Hearing her say it like that was a whip to the face.

Pax wanted to say something. He wanted Mercedes to use her typical witticisms to tease him, to make him struggle to keep up with the conversation. He didn’t like her speaking this straight forward or with such a harsh tone.

“I don’t mind your evasions and deceptions when matters are trivial, and I don’t mind when you do it to others. I, in fact, encourage you to become practiced with others. But, anytime it involves a mission or anytime it involves secret information you get from me, or anytime someone could die—”

“Banana peels are prevalent on the ship,” Pax blurted, trying to keep his tone carefree. It came out a whisper and got quieter as he mumbled, “I could slip on one and die at any moment. Does that count?”

There was silence in the spy barracks.

Pax dared to glance up. He caught sight of Mercedes’ hand. It was curled into a fist and shaking. Otherwise, she was eerily still.

Today, Pax realized, was a day to admit he had screwed up royally.

“Luke—or someone who has been feeding his memories back to him—now suspects me of leaking information about his trip to Tartarus,” Mercedes said. Her clenched fingers eased.

Pax almost choked. He looked up at her eyes. “Did he give you any?”

“No, but he thinks I’ve been snooping through his files,” she said, giving Pax a look that implied he was supposed to get what that sentence meant.

“But—but you wouldn’t use that information for evil—”

She sighed. Pax remembered her saying that she had a lot of brothers. It was a sigh Axel often did around Pax. He wondered if it was an older sibling thing. “You and I know that Pax. I’m less worried about me. I’m worried about what they’ll find if they start going through surveillance footage.”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “My training. B-but, we did that to simulate field experience in a controlled environment.” His mind spun over the document’s he had pulled from the captain’s quarters. He was illiterate. It was guesswork. “You didn’t have me—”

“No. You were mostly gathering receipts so we could figure out which brand Luke uses to get his hair that stiff. I figured I could use it as a good bargaining tool with Matthias,” she said, “Any idiot with ears and a pension for listening to gossip could put together Luke, Jack, and Axel were going on a covert mission to Hell.”

And that same person could easily find out that Pax and Lou Ellen had gone after them. No wonder Alabaster had caught up to them so quickly. All Mercedes had to do was check up on Pax’s cabin, see his utility belt was gone, hear that Matthias and Alabaster hadn’t seen him or Lou Ellen, and she’d know where they went.

But, how could she think he wouldn’t go after his brother? She told him the when and where. That was basically like saying not to run after an ice cream truck when the ice cream was free and delivered with complimentary kittens.

Pax remembered the two favors she’d use to assure he wouldn’t go anywhere. His indignation faltered. She’d nullified one of her favors by tapping his bell and used another to keep him here. She was right. If truth could be told through implications, so could untruth. He had lied to her. Pax often enjoyed jumping around the truth. He didn’t like outright lying.

“I’ll give you double the number of favors—” he said.

“Favors mean nothing if you prove not to honor them.” She placed her hands on her hips.

That almost sent him to tears. Her hard stare might work as a Mortal Kombat finishing move. Pax swallowed, scared he might tear the hijab in his pocket if he gripped it any tighter.

“You need to earn back my trust, Ajax. That doesn’t mean doing things you want to do anyway or following orders you would follow regardless. If you’ll try to have a brain, you’ll know it means the orders you don’t like too,” she said.

There was a long silence. Between the heat in his cheeks and the wetness of his eyes, he wondered if he could mimic the climate of Belize in this room.

She didn’t move. He wondered if she’d turn her back on him in an abrupt fashion. Instead, those dark eyes bore into him.

Like she never wanted to see him again.

Pax took a step closer to her. He swallowed again, knowing that bursting into tears would make things worse. That’s how it was with his Chiich, too.

“M-Mercedes, please don’t make me go,” he whispered. “I’ll do anyth—”

Pax liked being around Mercedes. He wanted to impress her and become her number one spy. He enjoyed her goofy drills, the wry humor she pretended not to have, her smile—she didn’t smile enough.

Right now, he was the reason she wasn’t smiling. He wished he could burrow into a carnivorous rabbit’s hole as an offering to the gods of regret.

He was shaking.

“Mercedes…” Pax whispered. “I’m sorry…” There was no way out of this. He had messed up big time. Apologies weren’t enough. Maybe he really wasn’t suited to be her spy in a field where they would need to trust each other so much.

Pax swallowed again, trying to look as adult as he could as the childish question came out of his lips. “Can I give you a hug?” he asked, taking a step forward. He couldn’t leave the room like that. Mercedes wasn’t just the spymaster. She was his friend. “Before I leave?”

Mercedes flinched, making Pax flinch. She didn’t storm out or glare at him. The request choked her up for a moment. He’d taken another step, able to smell the coffee scent that clung to her hijab, before she could speak. “Don’t think you can melt my anger by being a worse parasite than usual.”

The words should have been angry, but her tone wasn’t. It was cracking.

Pax hugged her, wrapping his arms around her arms and waist. This was a friend he always wanted to hug, but never had. It felt weird doing it under these circumstances.

She should have hit him or yelled at him. She didn’t hug him back. What she did was far worse.

Pax could feel something wet splash onto his neck.

She was crying.

Pax had made Mercedes cry.[1] Sometimes, she acted so adult, he forgot she was only a year older than him. By going on a seeming suicide mission to Hades, he had made her worry. She really didn’t think he was going to go. Now, he felt worse, the guilt deepening into a drowning pool with each tear. “Mercedes,” he whispered into the material covering her neck. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never disappoint you again.”

Mercedes tried to clear her throat. She bent her head slightly. “You’re a highly effective parasite,” she mumbled. “Don’t try to get yourself killed again. Unless I tell you to.”

Pax nodded against the material.

“Also…”

She waited until he pulled back to look her in the face. The tears were gone, the only evidence a slight redness to her acne-flecked cheeks. Her gaze was hard. “Don’t hug me. Unless I tell you to.”

Pax immediately let go and took two huge steps backwards. He should stop there. He knew it. But his mouth was already moving. “Will that ever happen?”

“Ask me on a day that I don’t feel like throwing you overboard and the only thing restraining me isn’t paperwork,” she said, folding her arms.

Pax nodded, taking another step backwards, recognizing that she was even angrier for crying in front of him. He had an older sister. He knew how that could go. “I’m going to go brainstorm ways to make this up to you,” he said.

Her gaze narrowed. “Wise.”

Pax sprinted out of the spy wing. Mercedes might have been acting like she was fine at the end, but he made a quick promise as he ran. “I swear on the River Styx,” he whispered, “As much as I can help it, to never be the reason Mercedes cries again.”[2]

Thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this never-ending romp through Hell! :D (Oh, gods, it’s like a metaphor for current events.) Next week will probably be a break week for me, then we’ll come back with a one-shot Luke story, Two-Toned Memories about why Luke didn’t get to see Annabeth before she took Atlas’ burden.

[1] https://tenor.com/7Bth.gif

Is it bad that I laughed through writing this whole scene because of this gif? I’m not sorry.

[2] *drum roll for Pax having bad luck throughout all of Traitors of Olympus*

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #PJO #HOO #TFMO #writing #Dear Pax--please stop making oaths you can't keep. You're EXHAUSTING my ability to fuck you over. Sincerely #And yours truly-Styx

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 1

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

---

Thursday

Strictly speaking, shouting- even of a profane nature- coming from her boss’s office was not particularly unusual or noteworthy. Malcolm Tucker was a passionate individual, who had no issue with speaking his mind and a talent for doing so creatively.

She was long since immune to his acid tongue, never blinking no matter the volume or count of profanity – it helped that he was wise enough to never turn on her, the woman who ruled his life and calendar. She’d come a long way since she first started fresh out of uni, an absolutely terrified twenty-two-year-old who had been talked into accepting a temporary job as her best friend’s father’s assistant until she figured out what she wanted.

That had been eight years ago.

“Rose!”

Sighing, she slipped her feet back into her pumps and stood, smoothing her dress before grabbing her tablet and stylus. Rapping perfunctorily on his office door before pushing it open, she entered to find him standing at the window with his hands on his hips, staring out at the London skyline. Taking a moment to appreciate the spectacular view herself, she drew closer.

When he didn’t move, seemingly paralyzed, she coughed discreetly, finally sparking him back to life.

Shoulders slumping Malcolm turned to her, a familiar expression of frustration that eased slightly at the sight of her, tired eyes brightening. “Yes?”

Rose raised an eyebrow, curious now at what had him so rattled he’d forgotten he’d called for her in the time it took her to enter. “You shouted?”

“Right.” He ran fingers through his hair, and she idly noted that he’d need a haircut soon. The salt and pepper curls were growing wild and fearsome, much as the rest of him, and while the look personally suited him, it did not befit the Executive Director of a non-profit. “Sorry. Erm- can you get my attorney on the phone?”

“Dave or Alex?” She blinked innocently at him, his answer telling about whatever the problem was, praying it would be Dave. The recent level of profanity suggested it would not be, though, his answer confirming her fear.

“Alex.”

Shit. What now? Alexander McHenry specialized in family law, and had been Malcolm’s lawyer since his divorce from Clara’s mum more than twenty-five years earlier. Missy, the once Mrs. Tucker, showed up often enough to cause trouble that after all this time, the lawyer was still on speed dial. “Two minutes.”

“Thanks.” He moved towards his desk chair as Rose headed for the door, stopping her just before she exited. “Hang on- tell him it’s not about Missy. This is an inheritance matter. Me inheriting, I mean, not Clara’s trust or anything.”

“Okay.” She waited a beat, before offering, “If you want to give me more detail-”

Malcolm’s lips twitched into what, for him, was a smile. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet. I need to talk to him first.”

With a sharp nod she left, pulling the door mostly shut behind her before sinking into her desk chair, taking a moment to stare at a framed picture sat next to her desk phone. It was from a few Christmases before, and showed her, Clara, and Malcolm smiling and laughing in front of the office holiday tree during the annual holiday party. It was her favorite non-family picture, due in part to the genuine happiness radiating off of her in it.

Dialing the number from memory, she waited for Alex’s assistant to answer the phone. “Lisa? Rose. Yeah, does he have a few minutes? Malcolm has an inheritance question- no, nothing with her this time, thankfully, at least at the moment. Yeah, I’ll hold.”

Eight years earlier

“So, what are you going to do now?” Clara asked, passing the champagne bottle over. Now officially graduated, it would be their last time lying on the roof of their rented flat and watching the world pass.

“Fuck if I know.” Rose took a generous swig, staring up at the dark sky. Small lights twinkled overhead, a few airplanes mixing with the multitude of stars, and she tried to lose herself in the peaceful, black abyss as she had so many times before. “My dad said I can come work for him, if I don’t find anything better.”

Clara hummed, taking back the bottle and sipping at it. “I’m going to travel until classes for my masters start up. You could come with me?”

Rose made a face only the night sky could see. “Thanks, but no. I need some time without you.” She nudged her friend, turning her head to wink, and they both burst into giggles. “I just can’t believe it’s over. Uni is supposed to be 'the best years of our lives’. I don’t really feel that way though; do you?”

“Nope.” The raven-haired girl shrugged, sighing. “We had fun though, didn’t we?”

“Absolutely.”

They sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth, Clara draining the last drops before venturing, “You know, my Dad’s assistant Jo is retiring – he needs someone to take over. What about you?”

“I don’t know if my future lies in being a PA though; no offense, but that’s not what I went to Cambridge for.”

“No, you went for French and Art History. Have you changed your mind about that job at the Louvre?”

“No.”

“Then what good is it doing you? Working for my dad’s gotta be at least a little less embarrassing than working for your own. C’mon, it’ll be a temp thing, just until you find something better. Give it a try? For me?”

Rose groaned, easing herself upright, careful of both the alcohol in her system and the sloped roof they lay on. “Fine.”

“Yay!” Clara bolted upright, and they watched with wide eyes as the empty champagne bottle rolled right off the roof onto the pavement below, the shattering loud in the otherwise silent night. “Oops. Brilliant, so, first thing Monday, like eight- I know, I know, you and mornings- you’ll be great.”

It took Rose’s soused brain a few seconds longer than usual to understand her friend’s meaning. “Hang on, did you already agree to this for me?”

“Yep! Don’t worry, it’ll be fun! And it’s only temporary, you’ll see.”

“Rose?”

She yelped, startled out of the memory, and looked up to find Malcolm standing beside her desk, watching her with a concerned expression. “Hi!”

“All right?”

Rose nodded, tucking hair behind her ears and giving him a bright smile. “Just thinking. What’s up?” Biting her lip, she glanced him over and saw his backpack, a sure sign he was leaving for the day. “Heading out?”

“Can’t get anything by you,” he joked, winking. “I’m going to Alex’s office to go over a few things, then dinner with Clara tonight. Do I have the restaurant address?”

“Graham does,” she said, referencing his personal driver, “and I’ll text you half an hour before just to be safe.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Malcolm offered, just as he had every day since the dinner had been arranged a week earlier. “Come hear about her travels. She wants you to come too, you know.” His open expression made it clear both Tuckers would welcome her presence, not that she doubted his sincerity. In fact, his eyes bordered on pleading, which only served to amuse her.

Rose smiled, shaking her head fondly. “Thanks, but no. I’m seeing her Saturday for a girl’s night, I’ll hear all about it then. Tonight, I am going home, ordering takeaway, and vegging. It’s been such a week with the upcoming gala, I need a break.” All of which was technically true, but not the real reason; Missy had a tendency to crash these types of dinners, and Rose went out of her way to avoid the woman whenever possible. She’d heard enough stories from Malcolm and Clara over the years to give a clear picture of the woman behind the sweet and charming mask Rose saw. Never mind she’d always had a gut instinct about her. Sparring with Missy tonight? No thank you.

Her boss narrowed his eyes, but accepted that. “Fine, suit yourself. The samples should arrive this afternoon, right? Bring them by on your way home. Or stop by later tonight for ice cream sundaes; I bought all the favorites.”

Rose laughed. “You mean I ordered all the ‘favorites’. You didn’t do shit.”

“The fuck I didn’t!” he protested. “I gave you a list! And my credit card.”

“You’re going to be late. Get lost,” she ordered, pointing towards the lift. “I have a lot of work to do, and can’t until you’re gone. Now shoo.”

“Yes ma’am,” Malcolm mocked, saluting as he backed away. “As you wish. Have a good night.”

Shaking her head, Rose watched him go until he turned the corner and vanished out of sight, his whistling echoing back to her from the lift bank.

“Blimey, these Tuckers tucker me out!”

And, chortling to herself at the lame pun, she picked up the phone to order her lunch, kicking off her heels in favor of flats.

When the boss is away, the mice will play.

Malcolm paced Alex’s office, running his hands over his face and through his hair as he tried to think. Why would he do this? What was the point? “Is this even legal?”

“I’m afraid so,” his old friend said sympathetically, calm and unruffled behind his own desk. His view out the window wasn’t quite as nice as Malcolm’s, but decent nonetheless, Hyde Park in the distance. “If you don’t meet the requirements within thirty days of today, then you forfeit the estate and it goes to the Government. Those are the terms of the will.”

“It’s ludicrous,” he argued, settling his hands on his hips and glaring at the lawyer. “That money should go directly to the foundation! I don’t even want it!”

It hadn’t been a secret that his uncle was dying; eighty-five and riddled with cancer, it had only been a matter of time. Malcolm and Clara visited him when they could; even Rose had, on occasion, once they’d been forced to move him to a home, a live-in nurse no longer sufficient. Apparently, she made quite the impression. As his only heir, and the administrator of the charity Wallace had set up fifty years earlier, The Thistle Foundation, Malcolm had reasonably expected to be the beneficiary of the estate. What he hadn’t expected were the strings. What’re you trying to pull, old man?

“What do I do?”

“Talk to her?” Alex suggested unhelpfully. “What could it hurt?”

Malcolm threw him a nasty look, before resuming his pacing. “I can’t do that. Could I- No. Shit.” For a moment, just a moment, he tried to picture that conversation. Every scenario ended with her either laughing, quitting, or slapping him and then quitting. “Rose- I can’t lose her,” he confessed, a bit more honestly than he intended. “I mean- she’s a brilliant assistant. I don’t have the time or patience to train a new one.”

“All your funding comes from the estate, doesn’t it?” Alex asked quietly, and the horrifying implications of that were enough to make Malcolm sink into a chair.

“Yeah.” If the estate goes to the government, so does all the money. The Foundation would dry up in six months, maybe less. Only thirty percent of our funding comes from outside sources, and Vitex and the Tylers are half of that alone. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice,” the other man shrugged, “but practically speaking, no, you don’t. Not if you don’t want to have to go job hunting, or worse, woo new investors.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What’s the timing on this?”

“You have thirty days from today to sign on the dotted line, and need to give notice two weeks before that. So you need to decide if you’re going to… meet the terms, then you have to do that no later than then days from tomorrow, just to be safe.”

Malcolm hung his head in his hands, wondering if he dared broach the subject with Clara first. Maybe she can tell Rose? “And how long-”

“Five years.”

“For fuck’s sake, Alex!”

His friend snorted, coming around the desk to pat his shoulder comfortably. “I didn’t write the will, you know. Look, take a few days, think it over, then we can talk again. All right?”

“Yeah.” Checking his watch, he realized if he didn’t leave then, he would be late for dinner. “I’ve got plans with my daughter, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon.”

Trudging out of the office and down to his waiting car, Malcolm lost himself in his thoughts.

What am I going to do?

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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rigelmejo · 4 years

Text

Ok adjustment to suddenly no flashcards is strangely weird I think it’s cause I grinded too much. On the upside, if I suddenly slack off then it’s not like it was a priority ovo)/

So I got the better version of the SpoonFed Chinese anki deck today, it’s 8000 cards. A lot of it is very basic for me. but I figure it’s still good comprehension practice, good for reviewing words I know in context (instead of in isolation), good for me practicing shadowing and production, good for me practicing seeing correct grammar.

I’m using the settings: good for good, again for the ones I need review. I heard that’s the best for the “Lazy Anki” mass immersion approach setup. I am also using easy for the cards I ALREADY KNOW completely. Because it’s fine if their intervals are huge - I know them already. Also I would like to normally use the option of 20 cards a day. I’m just bulking it up rn because I know most of the sentences and want to speed through all the completely known ones.

I’m toggling with the deck a bit - because when I learn the deck it gives me very basic sentences I could probably skip. But when I went through it in the Browse area and tried to ‘suspend’ cards I knew so I can save them in case I want them, but have them not be in my learning/reviews - I saw a lot of sentences that went from simple to complex fast! Like 1 new word or grammar point building from the prior sentence. So together studied in order, every sentence is easy - but if I came across one right away, it might have 3-4 things I don’t know in it. I’m not sure if it takes a couple hundred cards in to start seeing this? But I figure if these cards are really building off each other, I might as well just keep most of them. Even the ones I know completely are good production practice and good review. I’m also contemplating ‘suspending’ all the Card 2 types In my deck that prompt with English first. I decided ultimately to leave them for now - since they give me practice on production. But if I find they bother me, I’m suspending them since they just cover the same material twice.

Anyway flashcard wise, I figured this deck is simple and easy to stick to. It covers stuff I can use, and it’s easy to study. I do think the Pleco pre made sentence decks I have are good (maybe even better for ME since the difficulty spikes quicker and my brain learns when its being challenged a lot and loves to slack when it’s not). But I don’t like using flashcards in Pleco for srs much. I prefer to use it like a big notebook of words I know/am studying/etc. Also i guess just mentally, it lets me keep seeing Pleco as my reading/notes/reference area. I like to keep it separate from srs flashcards I guess since... I usually hate flashcards, but love Pleco a lot lol.

I also was trying out my Chinese Grammar deck on anki - it’s a great deck. This one again has sentences mostly of stuff I know and understand - but this one is focused on grammar patterns and I think it’s a bit helpful for improving my production and grammar understanding. Along with just being more review of things I know. I also have a Hanzi deck on anki with simplified and traditional - idk how I feel about it or if I’ll use it. It’s not mnemonic containing, it’s just ordered on frequency, but I do like that it includes traditional so I can see both. Ultimately, these are just optional things I’m checking out. These two decks are free.

The SpoonFed Chinese deck has a free version - which I used to use and is perfectly useful so I recommend it. The big drawback I guess with it, was it seemed to occasionally have the same issues Clozemaster sentences have - since a beginner made it the sentences came from a bigger site source and if there were mistakes they were unedited, also the audio is compressed and sounds a bit harsh (but usable). If you look up the deck it shows up on anki, and the shared deck page also includes the creator’s link to the paid version they made. The paid version is $4 (or more if you’d like to tip etc). Its the version of the deck that’s been gone through for errors (so significantly less errors), for usefulness, so that the sentences are more sequentially I+1 instead of only sometimes I+1, the audio is WAY better.

It’s clear the creator went through it with more language experience, and they stated their Chinese wife also helped go through this version of the deck. I do think as I’m going through it, its noticeably better organized than the original was. Most noticeably though, I think the material is a little more thematically coherent and the difficulty curve is much more steady - it reads almost like the difficulty progression of some paid course or some college classes I’ve taken. This might make it easier for beginners to start it.

In the 4$ version of the deck I started today, my 20 cards basically introduced some ‘new’ words in simple sentences, then in more complex sentences with new grammar happening, and over time with new words added. It felt well structured like a purposeful course rather then a random list of sentences organized by ‘word frequency’ and length’ without much further work. The original deck is mostly like this too, just bulkier, and with a bit more of a chaotic I+1 organization where some chunks of sentences are all completely comprehensible them suddenly there’s a chunk of I+i sentences mixed in with totally new unknown sentences and I+2 or more type sentences. I think how well organized the 4$ version is... definitely motivates me to study more. Also I do think, If you had ZERO prior chinese knowledge of Hanzi or vocab words, the new structure helps guide you through learning the sentences much easier.

Also, just in general, the person who made the deck put instructions up as well on how to download and install it, how to change certain settings if you prefer, what to study beforehand if you have zero prior knowledge (it links to pinyin and tones), and I just really appreciated how thought out the instructions and notes were. Again, it makes it much easier as a beginner (and easier for me since I know almost nothing about anki and dearly needed the instructions today lol).

Lol this is all assuming... I stick to using anki instead of dropping it like always >o> we’ll see

Here’s the original deck on its page on anki: https://ankiweb.net/shared/info/867291675

Here’s the edited $4 deck: https://gumroad.com/products/IEmpwF

And, if you are wondering, no I still didn’t buy the $25 dollar anki app for iPhone. I’m just using the mobile website anki, as usual. Maybe life would be easier if I used the app but oh well. As far as I’ve heard there’s not a noticeable enough difference...

#rant #srs flashcards #anki #anki is fine #i just am BAD with flashcardssss

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gh0sti3-writes · 5 years

Text

MORE THAN JUST A JOB-CHAPTER 1

Word count: 3k+

Pairing: CEO!Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Baekhyun is known as one of the sweetest, most caring CEO’s out there. Everyone in his company adores him and is completely loyal. But, a dark secret lurks under every bright smile.

Warnings: Profanity...That’s it.

Note: Not proofread. Inspired by that one twitter post.

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS COMPLETELY FICTIOUS. BAEKHYUN IS A RESPECTIVE MEMBER OF EXO. ANY REFERENCE OR SIMILARITY TO REAL LIFE IS NOT INTENTIONAL. BE RESPECTFUL OF THE GROUP AND OF THE PEOPLE IN THE GROUP. THIS IS MY INTERPRETATION OF THEIR PERSONALITY IN THIS FICTIONAL SCENARIO.

“I told you already, I refuse to apply for a job that doesn’t even interest me!” I protested, as Jennie simply laughed and punched my shoulder gently.

“It’s fun in the company! You’re so qualified.”

“I’m not working under a man who forces his employees to call him Byunnie.” I joked, as she rolled her eyes.

“Look, we’re not forced to. He’s been looking for a secretary...For what? How long?” Jennie tapped her chin, and I shrugged.

“Seven months.” She smirked.

“I knew you would know it!” Jennie exclaimed proudly, as I facepalmed. “Look, you don’t have to work with us if you don’t want to. Buut, you’re so qualified. I know office jobs don’t interest you but he funds so many different projects that it’ll be fine! And if you work in marketing, you can work with me!” She tried to convince me, pushing further. I took a wistful bite of my sandwich, before shaking my head slowly.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Haha! See, you’re convinced.”

“No. I’m thinking.”

“I convinced you to think Y/N, I convinced you to think. That’s all that matters.” She said wisely, staring at the city bustling before us.

“Sure…” I smiled softly. Jennie was one of the most loyal workers under Mr. Byunnie I know. Ugh. Just saying that name makes a scowl appeared on my face. Byunnie was one of the richest CEOs in South Korea. CEO of a popular company that focuses on creative arts and new innovative projects. His company never interested me, but after he opened his secretary position right after I got fired from my old graphic designer job, it definitely became more appealing.

Jennie told me he was getting more and more desperate each day, but I think she just wants me to work there. She was always a little too clingy for my taste, but she still is one of my greatest friends.

But, her loyalty surprises me. How in the world could someone love their boss that much? Like, even my old boss was a close family friend. But some days I would have such a burning, burning anger flaming in my heart. Jennie isn’t stupid either.

I suppose me applying for the job was mostly out of fascination. Everyone loved Byunnie.

And, as the story goes, I walked into the office building holding files closely to my chest. Jennie finally pushed me to go see if he was still looking for a secretary, and I was running out of money to pay for rent and necessities.

I rubbed my arm uncomfortably, nervous as what’s to come. What if I just walked into a brainwashing facility?

A cold sweat ran over me, my brain jumping to the worst situations. Most of them were impossible, most of them were logical considering the amount of money he has. I finally pushed my last step to the front desk, as a woman with swirling brown eyes and black ringlets of hair smiled warmly at me. It made me feel, comforted? Comforted isn’t the right word...Just welcomed. Safe.

“Welcome to the B&Y Building! How may I help you today?” She questioned with an airy voice, her brown eyes scanning me intently. I stuttered, before clearing my throat and tightening the grip on my black blazer.

“I’m here looking for the position as an inter-I mean secretary. Uhm, if the position is open, I would like to apply, obviously.” I chuckled sheepishly. “If that’s alright.” My nerves bounced up and down, as I tried to hide my flushing cheeks due to my embarrassing request. The front desk lady laughed softly, before typing at her computer.

“Well, we have been terribly desperate for a new secretary. The interview is open as of now actually, or whenever you’re ready. If you don’t feel prepared, feel free to schedule an appointment anytime this week.” She explained, typing away. Her black fingernails gleamed in the sunlight that shone through the glass walls. I looked around, and then down at my watch. I nodded.

“I wouldn’t mind d-doing an interview now.” I responded, somewhat confidently. She grinned.

“Great! tenth floor, first room on the right.” She pointed to the elevator, and I nodded, jitterish for what was to come. I was immediately regretting my choices. Usually I would have more prep time, but my interest in this company was overwhelming. I steeled myself as I swung the glass door open. I entered into a glass room, minimalistic with not much. A black cup full of ballpoint pens, with ‘B&Y,’ carefully engraved. A desktop idle on the polished oak desk. The smell of leather and vanilla wafted through the air, as two black office chairs sat on either side.

I nervously slid into the black office chair, tinkering with the fabric of my bottoms, my mind traced over the objects hanging around the room. Abstract art pieces on the white walls, a glass wall that showed the city below. I heard the door open, and a man in a crisp suit with scraggly brown hair walked in. His eyes were sunken, as if he had gotten no rest. He was awfully skinny, but seemed too preoccupied in his paperwork to notice me. I cleared my throat, as he sat in his chair and he looked up at me.

“Oh! Hey there!” He greeted in his baritone voice that seemed to ring around me. He shuffled in his seat and nodded at me, before spreading out his mass papers. “My name is Kim.” He stretched out his hand, and I shook it hesitantly.

“Hi Kim.” I smiled at him.

“Please excuse, this.” He referenced to his face. “I’ve been awfully sick for a while now.”

“Ah! No worries, I didn’t even notice.” I lied.

But then again, who would? I notice everything there is to notice. From the cloud formations to each and every person on the train. The horns, the bird formations, even the smudged paint hidden discreetly with a plant in Jennie’s house. At the right angle, it’s definitely noticeable. I rubbed my hands together under the table, as he coughed slightly.

“Well, I assume you are here for an interview for the position of Byunnie’s secretary?” He flipped through some papers.

“Uhm...Yes. Yes I am.” I answered.

“Great! Any questions before we start?”

“Do...Do we have to call him Byunnie?”

“Well, it’s not required but he prefers it that way.” He chuckled. “It’s a bit of a silly name, I know.” I shook my head.

“No, no.”

“Don’t lie to me.” It was a little more aggressive, but it could’ve been my anxiety that was disorienting me. I nodded and smiled awkwardly. “Alright, since you didn’t schedule an appointment I’m afraid I’ll have to fill out your file right here and now. First, can I have your name?”

“Y/N L/N.” He typed away busily, bobbing his head a bit.

“Great. Can I ask for your age and birth date?”

“Y/A, Y/B/D.” He smiled.

“My sister was born that day too!” I laughed, warming up and getting more comfortable. The vanilla sweetness in the air and the spring sun seemed to wrap me in bundles of safety and comfort. “Anyways anyways, can I ask for your education? Your major in college and what college exactly?”

“Uhm...Well I was an art major. I focused mainly on digital and graphic design or illustration. I recently worked in an indie graphic design company. I went to college in Japan. University of Tokyo.” He nodded, typing it all down.

“Right right. Any ideas with business?”

“I minored in business. It was my first interest but the art program opens lots of opportunities”

“I heard they aren’t big on that type of art, how exactly did you-?”

“I bought online courses while taking the normal ones.” I explained, interrupting him. He smiled. The interview went on, slowly drifting onto what I can contribute towards the company. What makes me a good secretary, what can I handle and tolerate, what can I do. Just the basics with some more in depth questions that focused a lot on my creative aspects. I understood why he was beginning to ask more complex questions, this is a very wealthy company with lots of information.

If they hired the wrong person or let a bad employee slip into the midsts, then...Well it can go downhill. So, I didn’t mind it and answered as honestly, confidently, and charmingly as I could. Finally, about an hour or two later, I was free to leave.

“Thank you for meeting with me. This was great Ms. L/N, I’ll get to you in a week or so.” Kim grinned boyishly at me, as I nodded, shaking his hand.

“Yes. Thank you.” I left the building, getting ready for lunch with Jennie. She texted me during the meeting, wanting to hear all the details on the interview. I was gonna pop by my apartment. Change into clothes, enjoy myself to avoid staining one of my only good blazers.

I got into my apartment, texting Jennie I’ll be there in thirty.

That’s great! Can Byunnie come?

I almost spat out whatever fluids I had in my mouth, it was most likely saliva but the bitter taste of coffee was reminiscent so...Who knows?

Who in the world brings their boss to lunch? Isn’t he running a multi-billion company?

My hands were furiously typing as I was changing into high waisted jeans and a white, blousey crop top. I started to brush my hair down into whatever style I preferred, and slipping on black sneakers. I began to apply some accessories, as my phone dinged once again.

Well! He would love meeting the new secretary.

It’s not confirmed.

So! Pleeaaaase.

She sent me a crying emoji, and then a selfie with her and her boss. I sighed grumpily, blowing a strand of hair out of my face and grabbing my bag.

Fine, on my way.

I grabbed a few gulps of water before deciding to walk to our usual lunch place. The walk was scenic. Bright blue sky, birds flying around and about. The air was dust free for once, meaning the smell of flowers was flowing around with the slight breeze that danced around my body. The green trees rustled, as the heat was buzzing in my ears. I finally arrived at the spot, a nice tea house with lots of treats that they offered. It was aesthetically pleasing, a lot of girls and boys on Instagram could be spotted snapping photos.

I entered and found Jennie waving towards me, Byunnie sitting next to her. She smiled brightly, as I took a seat in front of her, next to Byunnie. Or...Diagonal. Or somewhat close but we were still at a comfortable angle to avoid tension. We were sitting in the nicer areas, gilded accents to accompany the white walls. Aerial plants potted in geometrical glass pots to accent the theme. Dried blue orchids as our centerpiece, with cushions to accompany us.

“Y/N! This is Byunnie, Byunnie, meet Y/N!” I met eyes with him, trying to understand him. But really all I could see was warmth. Bright, brown, swirling warmth. I tried to pry, understand him. But no, it was just...Inky. It was overwhelming, and I felt myself back down. His skin was completely free of blemish or scar, his silvery white hair swirled perfectly and trimmed to precisely frame his face without flaw. He was glowing, radiantly. Like...His skin was absolutely perfect.

His innocent look, chocolate eyes, and perfect hair caught me off guard. This was...Not what I was expecting. I finally realized he was greeting me, and my attention snapped back to him. He beamed at me, out-stretching his hand. I hesitantly took it, warmth spreading over my arm.

“Hi Y/N!” His voice was soft, angelic almost. He was the exact epitome of lovable. I felt my cheeks flush.

“I-Hi, hi...B-Byunnie?” I tested the name gingerly, trying to gauge if he would react. His grin seemed to grow wider.

“I see Jennie told you about my nickname.” He chuckled, nodding. “Yes, feel free to call me Byunnie. We might end up partners after all.” Jennie laughed.

“Might? No way. Y/N is not just a might. She’s for sure what this company is looking for!” She reclined into her chair.

“Jennie, please. Don’t be so kind. I’d rather earn the job then let other people gas me up.” I shuffled. I was trying to straighten myself but his angelic aura seemed to completely intimidate me and welcome me at the same time. He must be a great CEO. Being able to make my legs shake but a smile appear must be confusing for competitors of the company. However, I still felt queasy.

“I’m just being honest!” She wagged a finger in my face.

“Jennie, don’t worthy. Neither should you Y/N. I assure you, my mind isn’t so easily swayed.” He leaned forward, I leaned backwards. “Thank you for meeting with me and Jennie, I know it seems rush but I’m thankful that you accepted her invitation and everything.” He strummed his fingers against the white table. “It’s good to know who I may be working with.”

“See! This is gonna be great Y/N.” Jennie giggled. “Anyways, you guys ready to order?” She questioned. I nodded.

“Actually, I haven’t been to this place before. Y/N, any recommendations?” He questioned. I stared at him quizzically, startled. I realized he was actually regarding my existence, and I realized I should probably respond before he catches me continuing to stare.

“Oh! I...Don’t come here that often. If I do have to recommend anything…” I pointed at the tea section in his menu, reaching over. “Boba, taro. Ask for sixty percent ice and seventy percent sugar, that specific order gets you complimentary taro mochi. Then, for food order the turkey sandwich or a crepe cake, both are really good with taro. Just don’t get durian cake, it isn’t too good.” I instructed, pointing at the different selections.

“I know the secret menu.” Jennie winked at Byunnie and I.

“Jennie, of course you know the secret menu. You literally always get lunch here.” I deadpanned, moving away when I noticed the close proximity. He had the same vanilla scent as the interview room did, just sweeter and mixed with cologne. He also was wearing his usual crisp suit that I saw in the photos. He was usually styled less innocently, but paparazzi coverage isn’t always accurate. His black suit had no wrinkles, white buttons perfectly aligned. Taking in his character, it was almost admirable how absolutely stunning he was as a whole. I took back my hand and cleared my throat. “Of course, it’s entirely up to you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, taro boba and crepe cake it is!” I smiled proudly, knowing I influenced the choices of a multi-billionaire CEO. It kinda made my heart swell. After ordering, our food swiftly came. I always loved the reliable service that the tea shop offered. It was good for in and out orders, when I was rushing.

We ate our food with slight conversation. The interactions were clearly awkward, but I began to warm up and grow fond of Byunnie. Even over the course of one meal, he was easy to interact with and was kind. I understood why all of his employers enjoyed working with him, he was smart. Resourceful. Respectful. Funny, he could easily pass as your roommate in college who always did the dishes for you.

“So, Y/N. Do you have a partner?” He inquired, as I tapped my chin.

“Mm, no. The closest thing is Jennie and even then we still have our emotional distances.” I joked.

“The only distance is the one you made when you said you don’t like ice cream on pizza.” She retorted, as I scoffed.

“Dairy on pizza is disgusting and gross.”

“Cheese. Y/N. Cheese.” He cleared his throat, giggling a little at our sad excuse of a debate.

“So, no partners? I really assumed so. You seem so put together and you’re very pretty.” I laughed slightly at his compliment.

“Put together? You're the CEO of B&Y and you’re telling me I’m put together?” He nodded, as if it was a basic statement.

“Well, it’s really not too much of a compliment. I’m not god or anything, I just admire how...Easily you hold yourself together.” He grinned at me, his smile wide and sweet. Welcoming. Charming. Not just the smile of a CEO. The smile of a friend. I blushed.

“Why thank you Prince Charming. You’re too kind.” He nodded.

“Look at you Y/N! Getting that CEO ass!” I nearly spit out my drink, expecting Byunnie to yell at her or reprimand her for disrespecting him. But he simply high fived her and laughed boyishly.

“Jennie!” I hissed loudly.

“It was just a joke.” She teased.

“In the company, I consider all the employees family. So of course, comments that usually would throw most bosses off end up being completely normal.” I nodded, not accustomed to now loose and free he was. How in the world is he so successful if he is so easy? He just seemed like the type of person who would let you make your own work hours and pay you all the same.

“You seem...Odd.”

“In a good or bad way?” He joked, as I grinned.

“Good.”

Jennie called for the waitress who was serving us, as all of us whipped out our wallets.

“I’ll pay!” Jennie declared, proudly. I shook my head and slammed my wallet down.

“No! I WILL!”

“No! I SHALL PAY!” Byunnie shoved the money into the waitress’s hands, eyes gleaming. “Keep the change.” I burst out laughing, trying not to seem to informal but jesus. He was so extra, it was so damn amusing. He was so friendly, welcoming. Just everything you wanted in someone close to you. Honestly, because of this lunch I was beginning to want the position of secretary more and more. My eyes twinkled as I watched his mannerisms, his patient nodding, sparkling eyes, bright smile...Everything about him just screamed sunshine flying out of his ass.

He didn’t make people respect him, he made it seem like he deserved it. Who wouldn’t want to give him the world?

“It’s getting late, I should go home. Thank you for inviting me out.” I said respectfully, bowing my head as they nodded.

“No problem, feel free to come with us whenever. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Byunnie laughed, as I nodded.

“Of course.”

I left, with a smile that I unconsciously placed on my face. I felt fuzzy, safe, comfortable. I felt like I could let everything go to him, send him memes at 3 AM, even rant about my hatred of ketchup. But...He would be my possible future boss. The thought of that made me tense, I really just had a date with my future boss.

Ugh, he’s not even my boss! And even then, I don’t know for sure, and...My mind blurred uncomfortably, as I suddenly began to feel sick. It wasn’t...Food poisoning, it felt more like, I was mortified. Something horrible just happened and I wanted to sit down. But I stumbled home, eyes blank as I could only push forward to my apartment. Why did I feel so...Weird? The fuzziness was replaced with static that swirled around my stomach and head, loudly ringing in my ears.

I shoved the keys into my door, swinging it open and quickly locking it shut. I slowly stumbled into my bed, and felt my body sink in. I didn’t even have time to think about today, as I passed out immediately.

----------

When I woke up, I felt better. Completely refreshed and invigorated, like someone just pounded a bunch of vitamin c into my face and threw me into a warm bath. Like the gods above shoved immortality down my throat. I quickly washed my face of residue products from yesterday, and changed into more comfortable clothes. High waisted shorts and a tie-dye shirt. I put my hair back, and went to my computer to see if I got any emails.

I scrolled through some spam lazily, deleting and cleaning out emails from my babe, a Nigerian Prince offering one million. I chuckled at the cheap scams, before eyeing a new email from B&Y. My cursor hovered over the email, as I felt my throat grow dry. I trembled slightly, as I scanned through the big fancy words and colorful designs.

Finally, I saw the words.

“We are proud to tell you that you have been chosen as Byunnie’s secretary. Please come in at 6 AM tomorrow to get details and get you adjusted.” I squealed to myself, giggling like a child as I sent a text to Jennie.

JenJen! Guess who’s gonna be the new secretary?

BIIITCH.

I’m serious omg.

Congrats!!! Omg I’m crying in the library. Good job!!!

Still working on your masters?

Duhhhh, gotta figure my life out one day haha.

Lolololol

I put down my phone, clutching it tightly. For some reason I wanted to thank Byunnie so bad, tell him grateful I am. But, that wasn’t what people do. I needed to get a grip. This is a job, this is just a job. This is just a job that gives me the position of secretary under the CEO of B&Y.

Fuck.

If only I knew, if only I fucking knew.

This would be more than just a job.

#exo #exo baekhyun #baekhyun #kpop imagines #exo x reader #ceo!exo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #baekhyun x reader #ceo!baekhyun

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jamlally · 4 years

Text

Skating on thin ice

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by @panicfob . The Day 7 Challenge prompt was Ice Skating

Warnings: Fluff and hints of a relationship

Pairing: OFC x Tony Stark

Summary: Old fashioned methods help Tony make things special for Belle

Warm hands with long dexterous fingers wrapped around Belle’s wrists guiding her forwards. It didn’t matter how much she had faith that the hands holding hers wouldn’t lead her into trouble, it was still unnerving to not be able to see where she was going.

“Come on Snowflake, not much further” She could hear the amusement in Tony’s voice and tried to let herself relax a little. “I promise you are perfectly safe”.

Belle could feel a light wind blowing on her face, and she was glad that Tony had made her put her hat and scarf on before they left. She tried focusing on her other sense and knew that they were outside of the compound, and they were walking on the grass but other than that she couldn’t tell much else about what was happening.

Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off of Belle’s face, even with her eyes covered he could tell that she was nervous about what was happening and where they were going. Her bottom lip spent more time between her teeth than was usual and her hands had a slight tremor to them, He was sure that she would like his surprise, but he didn’t want to scare her. This woman had come to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

When he had woken up on the couch Belle curled up against him, he had a moment of utter blind panic. They were covered in a blanket which meant that someone had seen them, and Belle could read more into this than he wanted and then……. He took a second to think it through.

Who had seen them, well that was was enough to work out - he could just ask FRIDAY so that left him with what would happen when Belle woke up. The worst case scenario - she ran away screaming and didn’t speak to him again. Well she would have to speak to him when they were mission planning, and executing. Ok so out of work she wouldn’t speak to him , he could work around that right?

Ok so if she got scared he could back off, but last night she had seemed really happy to be physically close with him, but it could have been the drink talking. She was shy though so maybe the drink let her say what she was really felling. His gut told him that the best thing to do was to run, to not take the chance, his heart said just to wait and see.

Before he could decide either way Belle snuggled in a little closer to him, her arms tightening slightly as she seemed to soak in his presence and his heart won out over his head. He had laid there enjoying the moment until Belle had stirred. He felt her freeze obviously realizing the position that they were in. Tony had tightened his grip slightly and she had relaxed. They had taken their time getting up and having coffee together and writing down her cocktail recipe before separating to go on about their days, neither quite loosing the smile they had been wearing.

He wanted to do things for Belle that let her know just how special she was to him, but everything that he come up with just felt wrong. Belle wasn’t a girl who was comfortable with grand gestures, which was unfortunate as he was really good at those, so he needed to find other ways to express himself.

HE enjoyed sitting with her and sharing a morning coffee while he read through what ever turned up in his inbox and she started looking through her own set of tasks. When he was with her his brain became more quiet and he often found he could sort through his ideas a little more clearly as long as those ideas didn’t have anything to do with showing Belle a little fo what he felt.

At the height of his frustration he had been stomping around his lab in a foul mood when Bucky had appeared needed his arm to be assessed. Tony had been glad of the distraction even if his mood didn’t improved

“What’s bugging you Stark. You seem even less pleasant than usual”

He had glared back at the soldier - annoyed mostly at himself

“OK so you’re old and people had less stuff when you were last walking around - right?”

Bucky had nodded, unsure as to where this was going “So what kind of gifts did you get people, to show them that they mattered?”

“Like when people were courting ?”

“No not when you were courting. Jesus!” He pushed back on the stool rolling back and looking up at the ceiling “Just when you want to make sure they know that you were thinking of them, and you were glad that were there”

Bucky rubbed his flesh hadn’t over his mouth using It to hide his smile. It sure seemed like he was talking about courting based on what Bucky remember. As much as he was desperate to say that Tony so rarely asked for input that he didn’t want to put him off so he restrained himself

“Well it’s been a while but usually you would try and do something nice for them, maybe take your gal somewhere that she had wanted to go to, perhaps to a movie. We wrote letters too”

Tony rolled himself back towards Bucky picking up a screwdriver and adjusting the plates a little further. “Interesting, well there you go - the arm should be good to go. I’ll schedule FRIDAY to run diagnostics over the next few days and if there is anything off then there are a couple of other things we can try”. He dismissed the older man his mind already plotting his next steps.

Belle had laughed when she had found a hand written note slid under her apartment door asking her to be ready to be collected in 2 mornings time, dressed for the outdoors. She had tried to catch up with Tony to ask him about what he had planned but he managed to avoid her, always heading off somewhere else, with a smile and a wave and now she found herself blindfolded and still non the wiser of what was happening,

Concentrating Belle realized that she could hear what sounded like voices, one of them sounded like Thor. Belle started to slow, why would the others be out here? She trusted Tony but she didn’t want to look like an idiot.

“Its Ok Belle, I promise I knew that they would be here” Tony tried to reassure her. “Just a little further Belle”

Letting go of a shuddering breath she nodded her agreement and stepped forward enough to be able to feel a little of the heat radiating from the man she was putting her faith in.

A few minutes later he pulled her to a stop, moving behind her to start to free the blindfold. She felt the knot loosen but Tony held it in place as he learnt in closer to her ear “I need you to know that the time I have with you is important to me, I enjoy it - a lot and I want to you to understand that I need you to be happy”. The hair on her neck stood up as his warm breath passed over it, his words sinking in

“I have a past Snowflake, it’s out there for everyone to see, but I am trying to do better. I’m going misstep and get it wrong, but I hope today is right” The blindfold dropped and Belle blinked allowing her eyes to get used to the light and then let out a gasp quickly followed by a giggle.

“It is unclear to me why it is that this…thing is fun Lady Belle. Blades are to be used by a warrior to defeat his enemy, not to propel ones self across the ground”

Belle couldn’t help but smile at the Asguardians reaction to the current activity. He was making his way across an ice rink, arms flailing and a frown of concentration on his face.

She looked over her shoulder at Tony who was currently rolling his eyes. Natasha and Bucky were skating as a pair smooth and graceful while Bruce, Steve and Sam were stood off to the side. Bruce seemed to be attempting to explaining something that involved the ice skate being upside down. What ever it was Sam looked confused and Steve kept shaking his head.

“Well mostly because it’s fun Point Break. You said that you wanted to try some fun winter activities and this is one of them”

“I have been to places where there is ice and it was not a positive experience. This seems like something that my brother would do simply to have people laugh at me” the scowl on Thor’s face said it all.

“Yes well, I am not scared you understand, it just doesn’t seem like this is a wise plan. I am happy to try this skating but it is not clear to me quite how this is actually fun”

Watching her face Tony allowed himself to relax a little “So this was an acceptable choice then?”

“Tony - this is - its beyond anything that I cold have dreamt. Ive always wanted to try skating!” Belle reached up to squeeze his forearm her smile bright and shining.

“Well then I say we should get you into some boots and then you can hit the ice”

Hitting the ice seemed to be what fate quite literally had in stock for Belle as it turned out that ice skating was harder than she had anticipated. Tony watched as she wobbled and fell but still pulled herself back up, smile firmly in place. Eventually Steve took pity on her and smoothly skated over, helping her up and giving her pointers.

Eventually Belle managed to make half a circuit under her own steam without windmilling arms and her cry of triumph made Tony laugh out loud

“Tony look I’m getting the hang of it!”

“You certainly seem to be more vertical than you have been up until now Snowflake’ He called back

“Come on out and join us” she beckoned him forward but Tony just shook his head

“Sorry Snowflake but all that ice isn’t my idea of a good time, I’ve got to keep these “ he wiggled his fingers “In good working order”

“Come on Tony, its fun” Steve skated over stepping onto the rubber surround to the ruins before dropping his voice “You did this for her right ? So got spend time with her. She doesn’t care if you’re not the nest, she just wants to share the experience with you”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck - there was a good chance that Steve was right, it did seem to be an annoying habit of his. Perhaps he should have put a little more thought into a plan that didn’t require him to fall on his ass.

The boots felt uncomfortable and he waddled a but when he walked to the ice rink, but no matter how ridiculous he felt the smile he got from Belle made it all worth while.

“Ok so Capsicle - gimme the lowdown. How do we make this shit work?”

A couple of close encounters with the ice later he was pretty sure that he was never ice skating again, but he did seem able to keep his feet under him a little more and was able to make his way over to Belle who was currently hanging onto the barrier and talking to Wanda.

“Alright Snowflake I think I got this, how about you take me for a whirl”. Tony wiggled his eyebrows and help out his hand

“I’ll see you later Wanda” Belle pushed away and wobbled over to Tony grabbing his hand. They made their way on a lap of the rink, laughing and teasing each other as they went. Wanda smiled as Tony’s arms started to windmill and sent a small burst of energy to prop him up and avoid the spill.

Belle had taken her gloves off so that she could hold Tony’s hand more closely. She loved the feeling of the calluses on his fingers when they brushed against her skin, it made her heart beet a little faster and gave her the urge to curl into him and feel the rest of his body against her.

Tony pulled them to a halt at the far end of the rink “Thank you for getting me out here. I think I would have missed out if you hadn’t talked me into it”

“I think it was Steve who talked you into it, but there is no one else that I would rather have experience this with”. Resting against the side Belle turned a little so she faced him a little more, reaching out for his other hand “The fact you put all this effort into this, and that we shared it with the other. It’s one for the books. It seems that all my best days come courtesy of you”

Tony leant forward, resting his forehead against Belle’s. “I just want for you to be happy Belle. I want to see that smile of yours, I want to know that I helped keep it there. If that means that we slip about on frozen water so be it. I can’t think of many things I wouldn’t do for you Belle”.

Their noses brushed against one another and Belle breathed in deeply, the warm smell of his cologne filled her nose. The feelings that she had when she was close to Tony weren’t something that she focused on, perhaps he only wanted to look out for her as a sister, but she didn’t think that was what was happening here. There was a chance that her next move would blow her life out the water, but she had spent so long not experiencing things that for once she wanted to be the one to make a move.

Pulling against Tonys’ hand she slid him a little closer before leaning in a little on pressing her lips against his. She felt his hands tighten around her own and then he was kissing her back. His lips were warm and he moved them slowly against her own keeping her close and Belle felt like she was flying.

Tony was the first to pull back, he let go of her hand and brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, his eyes warm and pupils slightly blown. “You know I’m pretty sure I would be ok falling on my ass another dozen or so times if I got another of those kisses”

Belle blushed but leaned her head a little against his fingers “I wouldn’t want you to get any more bruised, maybe the next time we try it off the ice”. Tony laughed and started to pull them over to the exit using the barrier

“So how about we say we are done with this and go and get something warm to drink, and maybe see whether it feels different when we’re to freezing to death”

“What ever you want Tony” Belle couldn’t help but agree.

Stepping off the ice the couple turned at the sound of a loud crash and found Thor lying sprawled on his back in the middle of the rink “Odin’s balls Stark. This has to be some kind of trick, there is no way someone can find this process fun. If you told me that this was some kind of torture then I would be more inclined to believe you”

Belles laugh joined Tony’s as they watched the annoyed King attempt and fail to get to his feet, It eventually took Bucky and Steve to get him up and over towards the exit. Her arm wrapped around Tony’s waist while his was draped over her shoulder. Her head was relaxed against him and she reviled in the kisses he placed on her head eventually looking up to softly peck his lips again.

#panic's 25 days of christmas #christmas #fluff

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deniigi · 5 years

Note

concept developed after reading baby!matt in the sprawl: adventures in spider-babysitting. can you imagine the super/vigilante community/spiderverse gang + co. dealing with spiderman but small. bite-sized. little baby hands as spider-sticky as always. theres a baby on the ceiling. good god

Hi Anon.

Not quite what you asked for, but here’s some baby Pete from Tony’s POV I wrote yesterday to play with this concept. I don’t write Tony very much for many reasons, but I thought that this time, it might be pretty cute.

It cuts off kind of abruptly, but yeah. I didn’t really have the interest to finish it as a complete story. ANYWAYS

Long post under the cut (sorry mobile users!!)

“Tony,” Pepper said calmly, “I know that you want to help.But she is basically his mom.”

Yes, yes, yes.

But.

Consider this.

Small.

Pepper paused in typing and raised an eyebrow.

Tony got up in case she couldn’t see and showed her with hishands.

“Small,” he emphasized.

“Yes, he is very small,” she agreed.

“Very,” Tony told her firmly.

“And he is? Not our child?”

Yes, but again. Please consider: Small.

“So what I think I’m getting here is that you’re feelingpaternal today,” Pepper said during another pause in her typing.

Yes. Very.

“Why don’t we make a new baby robot then?” she offered himlike he was, himself, a child very studiously kicking the back of her seat in amovie theatre.

Because small.

“Tony. Peter is terrified of you right now.”

Yes, yes. But small,honey. So, so small.

“The second you touch him, he will start crying all overagain.”

Life is cruel.

“Have a seat, Tony. We will find you something small to holdin just a minute.”

Pete was always the size of a beansprout, height andwidth-wise, but at the present, he was but a bean. Sometimes, in their line ofwork, these things happen, and mostly they are unavoidable and Bruce and Dr.Cho had pronounced this particular affliction short-term and non-lethal andnone of that did anything to help the klaxons screaming in Tony’s head to gofind. And hold. The baby.

“You know, Tones, I think this might have affected you morethan him,” Bruce said, poking at him in the lab. Probably testing the frequencyat which he was fucking vibrating.

Must hold. The small.

“You stay here, Imma go get Rhodey.”

Yes, whatever, kindly fuck off unless there was a child inneed of holding in your possession.

Rhodey took one look at him and rolled his eyes and fuckedoff because he understood the highly complex workings of Tony’s mind. He cameback with a rabbit from one of the labs and stuffed it into his arms.

It was.

Unsatisfactory.

But closer.

“Tony. Peter is so scared of you right now, man,” Rhodeytold him.

Right. Yes. Logically, he knew this. But his brain would not compute. He could not make itstop fixating.

“He’s more scared of you then Barnes.”

Fucking horrible is what that was. Unfair on scales unknownto man. Peter and his smallness had,once separated from Tony, his apparent nightmare, wrapped tiny fingers aroundBarnes’s metal ones in silent fascination. Barnes was a baby-thief, however,and could not be trusted with children. They all ended up in Rogers’spossession and he was, every time, very confused. As were the police. Sam hadintervened to stop this this last time before it went to far and gave tiny,precious, baby-Pete a little toss which had banished the last of theTony-inspired upset and had resulted in giggling.

Tony had believed that what he had felt right then wasextreme jealously. He now knew this to be fact. He also knew that baby-Pete hadzero self-preservation instincts because preferred even Natasha’s company toTony’s.

It was problematic.

Everyone else got to hold baby-Pete, but not Tony. Tootraumatic.

Why.

May told him that it probably had to do with his facial hairwhich was horrifying. Like. Why. She said that this had always been a thing,but neglected to notice that half of Thor’s face was covered in fur and Sam hada moustache and goatee and there was no crying happening for those two.

“Yes, well. I guess they don’t seem very threatening,” shesaid, letting baby-Pete bury himself in her hair to hide from him.

He was so cute.

The universe was so hurtful.

Rhodey sighed and pet the rabbit while he clutched at it.

The moment of truth came when May brought Peter by for aquick check-up on Day two. Peter was very busy counting the beads on hernecklace. He was a great counter. For a toddler. That is. He was a very poorcounter by any other standard. He kept skipping the prime numbers with stunningaccuracy. No matter how many times May gently said, “One, two, three.” Healmost always started with “Fo’. Sis. Ni’.”

So cute.

So fucking cute.

Tony needed to sit down.

Rhodey told him that he was embarrassing the AvengersInitiative and he said, “I can’t fucking help it.” May got a phone call andasked Bruce if he could take her kid for a second. Bruce did, but notwillingly. Bruce didn’t deal with anything under the age of five. He could not.He didn’t understand their language or codes and he had very strong feelingsaround their breakability. So he handed Peter off to Rhodey as soon as hepossibly could. Rhodey saw Tony’s suffering and sighed.

“He’s just gonna start wailin’ Tones,” he said, bouncing thekid. Peter had become very interested in the seam of his sleeve.

Yes, yes, yes. But! But!

“I’m gonna give him to you, but you cannot, I repeat, cannotbe disappointed when he starts crying, we clear?”

Crystal.

“Alright.” Rhodey detached Peter from his shoulder andhanded him over to Tony’s hands and everything was fine. The klaxons shut offlike a switch had been flicked. Peter chewed on some fingers and looked up athim with big, liquid brown eyes. He did not scream. A good sign. He even dug afew of the fingers of the other hand into Tony’s shoulder. He was warm and softand so, so small.

After a moment, he stopped chewing and looked down to theground and cooed “Waaaay.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony asked him, adjusting him a little bit closerto his chest.

“Mm.”

Fuck.

Goddamnit.

“What’s down there?” Tony asked, looking down to see whatthe kid was staring at. The question brought Pete’s attention right back up tohis face. He blinked at Tony like he’d never seen him before. Tony practicallyfelt Rhodey brace for impact beside him.

But still. No crying.

Thank god.

“Hey, there. Welcome back,” Tony said, bouncing a bit.

Peter hummed at him again and patted gently at his face. Hislittle hands were warm and soft. Tony could die. He could die happy now. Noklaxons. No crying.

“I would kill for you,” he said mournfully. Peter leaned upand pressed their cheeks together. His was almost entirely chubby baby fat.Inconceivably soft. He was really into the rasp Tony’s own cheek made and wentto business giving himself beard burn in his enthusiasm. Tony had to pull himaway before he rubbed his face raw.

“You,” he told the boy seriously, “I would kill for you.”

Peter cocked his head like he hadn’t quite caught that. Tonyrepeated it for his edification. He accepted it with grace and went back tochewing on his fingers.

“Ah, he’s not scared of you today,” May noted when she cameback in from her phone call.

No. Praise be. He handed the child back and felt lessdesperate than before. She laughed at the visible relief on his face.

“He was pretty volatile the other day, don’t take itpersonally,” she said. “You should have seen him with Wade.”

Ahahahaha. Yeah.

Wait.

What?

Peter loved Wilson. He admired the fuck out of the guynormal-sized and was obsessed with him while fun-sized. May explained thatWilson had heard what had happened and had dropped in to make sure all wasright with their tiny family and to offer his services in the case of any bumpsin the road. He evidently had not planned on becoming Peter’s obsession.

“He’s kind of a natural,” May said, “Although, I’m not surehe’s overly comfortable with it.”

Yeah. You don’t say.

“Pete cried for nearly half an hour after he left, it waspretty surprising. He’s not much of a crier.”

You. don’t. Say.

“He’s fine, of course. Wade would never hurt him.”

No, because Tony would kill him if he did.

May took Peter’s tiny hand and had him wave to them all onthe way out, once a clean bill of health had been acquired. Pete didn’t seem tofully appreciate the gesture, but he was into the waving part and smiled widefor it, which was more than enough for Tony.

“I think I might have to murder Wilson,” he admitted toRhodey once they were gone.

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Rhodey said.

No, he was probably right.

He was definitely right.

Tony actually got to see this beautiful friendship when Maycalled him out of the blue and said that someone had bugged their house. She’dfelt a little uncomfortable as of late and so had called Wilson for aprofessional opinion and Wilson had located three bugs in the Parker residence.He was trying to do one last sweep when Tony got there to collect them. Tonysuspected it was SHIELD. He suspected this because Cap had had the same problemthe other day.

He didn’t make it a habit to go to the Parker residence andwas always taken aback by the sheer amount of foliage in the front room. Itlooked like May had pushed some of the more fragile containers to the backs ofshelves or moved them up out of the reach of tiny hands. But she needn’t beconcerned at the moment, because Peter was dead set on ruining Wilson’sbug-sweep.

He definitely thought that Wilson’s time was better used, inthat moment, in playing with him. Wilson, for his part, was just trying to dohis damn job for once. He’d take two steps and nearly trip over the kid andthen grab him and dump him on the couch, which Peter thought was the height ofexcitement. He scrambled off the couch and went to go throw himself back intoWilson’s field of vision as soon as humanly possible.

Wade, bless him, could only deal with this so much.

“Baby boy,” he said, holding Peter at eye level the thirdtime he’d done this, just in the time Tony had been there. “I am trying to do athing. You are being a very, very, verygood disrupter. The best disrupter.”

Peter decided this was high praise. When Wade tried to puthim back down on the couch this time, Peter whined and latched onto his neck.Wade gently extricated him and held his hands at his sides when he sat him downthis time.

“That’s a no,” he said firmly.

Peter made an upset hiccup.

Wade valiantly did not do what Tony would have done whichwas shatter to bits and give the kid anything he wanted.

“You stay here,” Wilson instructed. Then he let go of Pete’shands and stood up and went back to his careful sweeping.

Peter watched him for a few seconds before he got bored ofbeing in one place. He started to off the couch, but Wilson caught him in theact.

“Ah,” he said with a finger. Peter squirmed back into place.

A new game.

And Wilson knew it. He turned very slowly back to his work.Within moments, Pete was at it again.

“AH.”

Back on the cushion.

The kid practically rattled in happiness.

May hid her smile while she handed Tony the found bugs.Yeah. SHIELD grade. He sighed.

“Wilson, last time I ran into this, there was five.”

“Copy that. Here’s four.”

Huh. What do you know? Guy knew what he was doing. Tony tookthe fourth bug and inspected it for insignia. Peter made a noise of triumph.

Tony looked over and they all saw that he was proud ofhimself for having escaped the couch while Wilson had been occupied liberatingthe most recent bug. He’d latched himself to Wilson’s arm.

“Not this again,” Wade moaned.

Again?

“No sticking,” Wade threatened.

“Ya.”

“I said no.”

“Ya!”

“Aigh. If you’re fucking sticking—no, of course, you’resticking. Peter.”

Uh.

“He likes to stick to Wade’s suit,” May said evenly.

“PETER.”

Yeah, he was getting that impression.

“OFF.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Nooo!”

“Oh my god. Child. I am doing work.”

Tony very very rarely saw Wilson any kind of serious, so itwas kind of amazing to see him so put out.

“Way!”

“What?”

“Way!!”

“Volume does not equal clarity, tiny monster. What?”

Peter hunkered in, beyond happy with his work. He did notlet go of Wilson’s arm. He cuddled his forehead into Wilson’s pec and the guylegitimately took a few calming breaths.

“You,” he said slowly to the side of Peter’s head, “Are a lot.”

“Way.”

“Glad you know. Alright, fine. That’s your decision. Up wego.”

Peter, for whatever reason, was chill with latching ontoWade when he was on the ground, but as soon as there was air-time involved,this relationship broke down.

No.

He did not want to be held. Or carried. Or any of that. No.He wanted down. Immediately.

“No, no. We are making decisions today,” Wade said over thewhining. “You made that one, so you gotta live with it.”

Peter huffed and puffed and then hiccupped like he was goingto cry, but Wilson just carried on with his business, one-handed this time. Andsomehow, this ignoring process worked? Peter’s hiccupping settled down withWade’s jerky, searching movements. Peter watched his chin as he felt under ashelve blindly. He grabbed at it..

May smiled again and then turned to Tony and mouthed ‘anatural.’

Yeah, so it would seem.

Wilson found two more bugs and, once Peter had settled infor a nap and could be transferred to May’s arms without incident, completedone good last sweep and declared the home bug-free. He said that he needed totake off, he hadn’t anticipated this taking so much time. He informed May thathe’d be in touch and started to leave, but it was as if Peter had a fuckin’Wilson alert in his head. He woke up instantly. Wilson was half through thedoor when he startled just wailing. The way he had when Tony had tried to holdhim the first time.

Devastated. Devastating.

May shushed him and muffled him by tucking him into herneck. Wilson’s body spoke tons of guilt.

“He’s fine, Wade. Go ahead. Thank you for your help,” Maysaid.

Wilson nodded, hesitant. And then hurried off to whatevercrow’s nest he needed to go perch in.

Tony took the bugs back to the lab.

Peter didn’t want to play later that week, when Bruce wastrying to take his temperature. He scowled at the thermometer and hid in his aunt’sneck.

“Bad day?” Bruce asked once the child had been traumatizedto obtain the temp.

“Very,” May sighed. Tony felt bad for her. She was still asingle mom. She didn’t exactly have a whole lot of extra time or support inthis surprise toddler business. He’d offered to help, but while Pete was happyto be held by him, and by Pepper, he would not tolerate their prolongedpresence without his aunt. That was asking for tears and frustration.

May said that her husband had been a big help back whenPeter had first come to live with them. He hadn’t quite been this little, butBen, as an electrician, had had a little more flexibility in his schedule andso could do a lot of the childcare that May’s job didn’t really allow for.

It was harder without him and harder with a younger,traumatized kid who only had one relative to cling to. She mentioned offhandthat Wilson had babysat for her for a few hours that week, and that had gonefine. But she was thinking that maybe she’d ask Franklin Nelson to do it, sincehe was really good with kids this age.

And like?

Franklin Nelson? Like, the lawyer? The one who worked forHB&C? The guy who took the Jessica Jones and Punisher cases? That FranklinNelson?

“He’s a friend of our family,” May explained.

Huh.

No shit.

“Peter is very fond of his friend Matt.”

What, like. Matt Murdock, Matt? Infamous blind legalbulldog, Matt Murdock?

“That’s the one.”

Like. Okay? That was weird. Would he be alright with them?

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

Well, if she was sure.

She asked if she could give Tony’s number to the lawyers incase something happened and she couldn’t leave work and she absolutely could dothat.

Tony heard not a peep from the lawyers the next day. Or theone after that. Franklin Nelson, he knew, was a very responsible guy. And if hewas used to little kids, then it made sense that he had the situation undercontrol.

Tony did, however, get a text from May respectfully askingif he could grab the kid and hold him for an hour or so, as her shift had beenunexpectedly prolonged.

Which was how Tony found himself in Hell’s Kitchen, underPepper’s orders to be respectful and not get shot, knocking on the closed upoffice door of Nelson, Murdock & Page.

Page, if he recalled, was the crazy reporter who picked afight with half of the hotshot murderers in the city. The Punisher. WilsonFisk. Union Allied. Gal didn’t know how to quit. He was somewhat surprisedthen, for the door to open to the lady herself with Peter securely settled on herhip.

“Go away, he’s mine,” she said. And closed the door.

Uh.

Awkward.

The door reopened to the tune of Nelson scolding hispartner. He invited Tony into the place with greater politeness. It was a hugechange from the guy’s old office at HB&C. Much tighter. Warmer. Very homey.

Karen Page had settled herself behind the secretary’s deskto bounce Peter in her lap. The kid hummed with the movement and seemed to becomforted by this.

“May said she was working late, but she didn’t have to sendyou around,” Nelson said. He himself had changed into warmer colors with themove it seemed. No more stiff blue suits for this guy. Tony could dig it.“Really, we can watch him until she’s done with work.”

“It’s fine, I’m being selfish, too,” Tony admitted offhandedly.Nelson seemed to understand this. He looked over to where Karen Page hadwrapped Pete up in her arms and was going through the ABCs with him. He mumbledalong, more or less in time.

“Kare, I’m afraid the time has come,” Nelson said withfinality.

“Noooooo.”

“Now is the time, girl. Nothing you can do.”

“Matt! Foggy is abusing me!”

“Thank you, I’ll take that.”

“Kidnapping, Matt! This man is kidnapping my ward!”

Peter went easily into Nelson’s arms and buried his fingersinto his collar. Page took it hard and slumped down in despair. Nelson cluckedat her and rolled his eyes and went to hand Peter over but two things happened.

One, Peter took the opportunity to stick to Nelson’s shirtand jacket and two, Murdock came out of his cave to investigate the aura ofdespair emitting from Page, who was evidently slowing descending to the flooras goo.

“We lose Karen?” Murdock asked in a surprisingly pleasanttone.

“That’s a yes. Peter, let go, honey.”

Ooh. Tricky. How to handle this one without revealing Peteto be Spiderkid. Tony moved forward and began to help Nelson dislodge thefingers. They did not come willingly and as soon as one hand was removed, Petermade an unhappy grunt and dug the other one in deeper.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Tony encouraged. No dice.

Murdock raised an eyebrow their way and then busied himselfcurling over the desk to tap at Page. Possibly to revive her. Who knew?

“Matty, can you come here?” Nelson finally asked when bothhis and Tony’s attempts had run their course. Pete wasn’t budging and he’dhidden his face in Nelson’s neck to prove it. Murdock lifted himself up frombehind the desk as if to say, ‘who? Me?”

“Matt.”

“Alright, alright.”

Wow, so begrudging.

Murdock kept a hand out when he moved forward without astick or anything to help him, and found Nelson’s shoulder without muchtrouble. He then, somewhat playfully, felt around until he was dancing fingersacross Peter’s face. The kid giggled.

“Who’s this?” Murdock asked.

More giggling.

“Well, certainly doesn’t seem like Foggy. Not grumpy enough.”

Nelson gave him a flat look that he couldn’t see, but musthave been able to somehow feel. Murdock had perfectly straight teeth. It waskind of eerie.

He trailed his hand a little further along until he wastickling Peter’s neck and, in his moment of weakness, swept the kid right offof Foggy’s shoulder. Like some kind of ninja. It happened so fast that Tonyalmost missed it entirely. Like.

How the fuck did he do that? Could he figure out wherePeter’s arms were just by sound?

Dude. He needed to look into how blind people experiencedthe world. That shit was incredible.

“Thank you,” Nelson sighed. Murdock tucked the kid into hisown neck. Nelson stiffened. “Matt. Matty. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He spun around and headed back towards hisoffice.

Oh.

Tony got it now.

“Matthew. Bring him back.”

“What? Can’t see you, Fogs. Can you speak a little louder?”

Nelson’s irritation, which Tony had seen go as high as afour out of ten, ratcheted up to a six in no time at all.

“You two are insufferable,” he said.

“WHAT?”

“WHAT, FOGGY?” Page echoed from the floor.

Nelson very clearly had strong feelings about his partnerswhich he was actively repressing to save face in front of Tony.

“I am so sorry. Give me five minutes,” he said and then leftTony standing in the waiting room while he went into Murdock’s office andclosed the door behind him. Two minutes passed in silence, then Page sniffedand picked herself up off the floor, collected her shit from her own office andheaded out. She resolutely called Tony a pig before she closed the door behindher, which was, in retrospect, understandable.

He didn’t know which part of his being in specific hadoffended her, but he was used to this treatment.

Nelson remerged around the three minute mark with a verygrumpy Peter once again in his arms, although this time, less interested inclinging to him. Apparently, he didn’t want to be separated from Murdock. Thiswas conveyed by the whining and grabby hands over Nelson’s shoulder.

Nelson handed him off to Tony without a struggle this time.Peter huffed up at him and pointedly looked back towards Murdock, now skulkingirritably in his office entrance. Defeated, but only for now.

Right.

Tony wasn’t sticking around for that battle. He thankedNelson and made a hasty retreat.

Peter wailed half of the way back to the tower. Didn’t likethe car seat. Didn’t like the car. Didn’t like Tony at the minute either.

Ah, well. T’was the toddler life, wasn’t it?

#fic #also I eschew basically everything about endgame #i am aware that tony and pepper have a baby #that is fine #in my verses they do not

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September 2019 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with @manawhaat today! Thank you so much for joining us, even though you were busy!!

Today, a bunch of us got together and talked about inspiration and writer’s block! We all had good ideas that were discussed! A rundown of the chat, as well as general Pond news, is below the cut!

To start us off, Mana shared a link to this ask that was recently presented to the Pond. The question was that a professor said that there was no such thing as a muse or writer’s block. The answers given by some of our Big Fish are terrific! All seem to agree that the ideas of a muse and writer’s block are valid, no matter what you call them. Digging beneath the surface to ask what is causing the writer’s block or the inspiration can help to get you past what’s stopping you and get you writing, again.

@mrswhozeewhatsis (Michelle)shared a link to a tweet by Robbie Thompson. She had asked him for tips on getting inspired or getting past blocks when the words just don’t want to flow. He responded by saying, “write from emotion: what scares you, angers you, etc. and make writing a habit. sit down once a day, same time if you can & just get to work. got nothing? write until it comes. inspiration is great but not always reliable.”

When looking for ideas from other famously prolific writers, this post from Neil Gaiman came up. In it, Mr. Gaiman says that blaming writer’s block gives you something to blame, but it’s usually a combination of laziness, perfectionism and getting stuck. He goes on to encourage writers to not accept writer’s block as a insurmountable thing and figure out the cause so you can get past it.

@mostly-shawn (Maayan): My professor's take on writer's block is that writer's block doesn't exist because there's no such thing as "not knowing". What we call "writer's block" is simply being distracted by other things like shopping lists and to-do lists and everything else, so in order to overcome "writer's block" you just need to sit and write everything that's in your head and clear out your brain space to allow yourself access to the idea. And in terms of muse, she doesn't believe in muse because no work is perfect on the first draft and because it's not perfect, you can't have had a muse.

If anyone wants to read her book it's called "To Tell The Truth" and it's about how to write creative nonfiction. Obviously, that's not what we're all in the business of, but it's a good read for all genres.

Everyone seemed to agree that this professor has a strange view on muse, but she’s got a point about writer’s block. A muse can be anything that inspires you to write, and nothing anyone ever writes is perfect right out of the gate, so her perfection theory makes no sense to us. Mana disagreed with part of her thoughts on writer’s block, though.

Mana: I think she has a point of clearing your head in order to get into your 'writing groove' but insisting that there isn't such a thing as 'not knowing' sounds ridiculous to me, specifically, a person who has not known what she wanted to do with a certain rpf fic for over 4 years.

@katehuntington mentioned that sometimes she feels like she knows exactly what she wants to write, but when she sits down, the words just won’t come. She can’t get them down. Michelle said her Fibromyalgia sometimes causes similar cognitive difficulties. The words just aren’t there. (If anyone has read Rob Benedict’s chapter in Family Don’t End With Blood, the feeling is described there beautifully.)

Michelle: Physical and mental issues can definitely affect creativity. When you're struggling to do the basic activities of daily living, creativity is not your body's priority.

Q: So, what do you guys do when you hit a block?

Kate: Accept it. LOL. I take a lot of inspiration out of what I've written already, if that makes sense. I revisit stories, go over what made those work. And I read back on the feedback I had from readers too. Those can be super inspiring.

Maayan: Yeah, I basically just say "alrighty then" and continue on with my life and push the work as far out of my head as possible.

Mana: Write some flaming garbage. (Michelle added, “Crap makes good compost.”) I get through as much as I can, plot wise. if I'm stuck between point b and c, but know where I'm going from point d to e then I just put down anything I might want to happen between point b and c and then move on. There is no rule that says writing needs to happen in a linear form so if I get stuck, I move on.

Michelle: I once heard Robbie Thompson talk about writing at a seminar, and he said that if he's really stuck, he'll take a walk, get outside, get some fresh air, clear his head. Just change his scenery, really. Did you know that when you move from one room to another, your brain kind of ties off the thought you had in the first room and opens up another thread in the second room? It's why so many people arrive in a room and then forget why they're there. (This is why carrying something from one room to the next can help you remember why you're in that second room.) Sometimes, that's what you need. Make your brain jump out of the rut it was in. Write in a different room, on a different medium (paper instead of tablet, tablet instead of computer, etc)

Mana: I haven't tried writing on a different medium, unless you count someone else's computer instead of your own, but the change of scenery does help. listening to different music instead of your usual tunes helps.

Maayan: I think better when I pace so when if I'm trying to figure out a storyline I pace, but when I have the storyline but I can't make my fingers do the word thing on the magical typing box I'm just stuck for good usually. (A suggestion was made that she could try speech-to-text software to help her get past that!) Mana records voice notes to her phone to be transcribed later.

Kate and Michelle both said that having ideas isn’t the problem for them, most of the time. The problem is usually having the focus to sit down and translate them to paper.

Mana: Watching a movie you know well enough to tune in and out of is a big one for me. Literally any time I NEED to do something in my life, I put on Pride and Prejudice bc I know the film so well and love the score, but it's my ultimate focus movie. I can tune out and write or file taxes or whatever the fuck and tune back in for him to hold her hand helping her in the carriage and then tune back out and repeat this process while the movie plays 6 times in a row.

Michelle: I can't have anything else playing. No music, no TV, no nothing. However, I've discovered that a lava lamp does wonders! When we lived in our apartment in Chicago, I had a great view of the planes coming into O'Hare, and it was an east-facing view, so I saw the sunrise after a long night of writing so many times. My creativity dropped way down when we moved and I no longer had a view to stare at. So, I bought a glitter lava lamp. I love staring into that thing. And then I put up twinkling fairy lights over my desk. Something about that got me going, again.

Maayan: I use my fish and snail as a lava lamp with the same effect.

Q: What do you do when you’re in the flow, and everything is going great, but you suddenly just stop? You know where you want to go, but you’re suddenly just stuck for no clear reason?

Michelle: I've discovered, and this may not be true for anyone else, but I've discovered that it usually means I've screwed up a little ways back. If I go back to where I last felt like everything was going well, and rethink everything I wrote since then, I've usually made a mistake in that section, and it needs to be rewritten. Whether I've made a character do something that's not in their character, or I've added something (or taken something away) that isn't right, whatever it is, it's in that section. If I just delete it and start writing from the previous good spot, I get going again.

Kate: Yeah. I've read somewhere that when you're stuck, you should go back at least 5 lines and start over. Put those lines away, pick it up again.

Mana: I think that's a big difference between us, Michelle. You can pinpoint a spot where things go awry and back up, cut off what isn't working and restart. I am a stubborn bitch so even if I see that something isn't really working, if I like it even the slightest bit, I refuse to get rid of it or change it. And those are the instances where I 'pick fights' with you and resist your input when you're beta reading for me. Am I the only one that does that? And if so, how are you all able to justify letting go of something that doesn't quite work but you've grown attached to?

Michelle: It’s perfectly okay to set bits aside and use them in other fics! Timestamps. Put it in another fic. Make it a one shot! I cut SO MUCH from Non-Trad, but I loved those parts SO MUCH, and that's how the Timestamps were born. They really didn't fit into the story well. They made it bloated. So I published them separately. Now, finding that I've gone off the rails entirely makes it easier for me to go back and get rid of something.

Q: Tips that we haven’t mentioned, yet?

Kate: Ask for help. Have a beta look it over, or whoever is interested and might be able to add to it.

Michelle: When looking for inspiration, always go back to the source material. It's not lazily, obsessively binge-watching the same show over and over, it's RESEARCH.

Mana: Someone asked what I do to get over it and I said: when I experience writer’s block or when the character I’m trying to write isn’t cooperating with me and I can’t get my brain to function I try to distract myself with something else or another character. Try watching an episode with your character in it, get a refreshed feel of how they move, talk, interact with other characters, draw from the episode or scenarios that you can fill in where the ep didn’t. Or, take ques from other characters, write about someone else for a bit so your mind has a break and time to sort itself out, then go back to what you were working on.

Another way to get past it is to read other’s work. It may inspire you, make you realize that the story you wanted to tell this way can be told a different way, or give you the kick you need.

My best answer to this: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

When the block hits and you have zero inspiration or motivation, write about anything and everything. Start reading and watching new things to see if it’ll spark something, check out Tumblr and users you don’t follow to get your eyes on some fresh content, write a dramatic scene of you sitting on the couch to hear the doorbell ring and let the suspense grow until you open it to find a pizza man there when you specifically did not order a pizza. Writing through it may spark something, and if not, my best suggestion would be to read. Read your old stuff and that of others, read a new book, read an article on how to beat writer’s block, read through the writer resources tag at the @spnfanficpond…

Mana also gifted us with these lovely links:

Writer’s block app that won’t let you do anything else until you’ve reached your goal.

A lovely gif beautifully encapsulating exactly how writer’s block feels.

General Pond Updates and Reminders

What we’ve got cooking up next: Not much, at the moment, since everyone is busy, so we’re just trying to keep up with the day-to-day at the moment! Our to do list is still long, though, and will not be neglected forever!

Reminders:

Angel Fish Award nominations are accepted all month long! No need to wait to tell us how much you liked a fellow Fish’s work! IF YOU HAVE SENT IN A NOMINATION, BUT HAVE NOT RECEIVED A PRIVATE MESSAGE CONFIRMING WE RECEIVED IT, WE DIDN’T GET IT. Be sure to use Submit instead of Ask!

Don’t forget to submit your stories to be posted to the blog! When your stories are on the blog, then they are easier to nominate for Angel Fish Awards!

SPNFanFicPond Season 14 Weekly Episode Challenge - Even though season 15 is just around the corner, these prompts will still always be open for you to use! Remember, there’s no deadline for submissions! Just tag the Pond and @mrswhozeewhatsis in your post!

Say hi to August’s New Members!

Check the Pond CALENDAR to see when Big Fish will be in the Skype chat room/discord general channel and other Pond and SPN events are happening! Know of something that’s not on the calendar, send us an ask or submission with the deets info details! The calendar offers a lot of features, such as showing you when things are in your own timezone! Since we’re an international group, that’s a definite plus!!

We don’t have a topic or speaker set up for October’s event, yet, so if there’s something you want to talk about, or someone you want to talk to, LET US KNOW!

#spnfanficpond live chat #chat room #let's chat #pond chat #THE CHAT ROOM #chat recap

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