#yeehaw and ye faithful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suspiciouslybluemilktea · 2 years

Note

hello my love if you're not too busy I miss your writing T^T so may I request.... perhaps.... some Cereus Uyu brainfood.... on her own, interracting with yeehaw Unknown or with yeehaw Em, it's all good content for me ♡ v ♡

Love, yer favorite little desert possum <3

A little something straight from the tap for my favorite little desert possum <3~

From me you get a flush out of ideas 💡 featuring Cowboy!Unknown (yes you guys 🤠)! Uyu is my cmc, and Em is Mel’s<3

Credit for the original AU belongs to @marshmallowprotection , who wrote the Cowboy!Unknown fic “Cereus”! 🌵

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

If you had to ask anyone what they believed to be the number one defining trait of the desert, their response would almost always be all that damn sand. Stretching out like a tan blanket of filthy nothingness, it births that isolated feeling of only wasteland in store for you beyond the town, establishing a criminal’s playground as nowhere outside feels safe. No one was stupid enough to exchange the familiar lights of their homes for that of only the sun and the stars on any journey.

The sand, Uyu could easily label her least favorite new addition to daily life, now having to deal with so much of it after moving in from the cleaner city. She hated the way it soiled the brighter pink fabrics of her many dresses, understanding now why light colored garments were no gos in this region. Her clothing made her stick out like a sore thumb from day one, most instead choosing to dress to match the dreary browns of the dust which clung to them.

How pink she happened to be compared to the other ladies of the area most likely played a heavy role in her winding up being held at gun point on that faithful day. Newcomers are easy prey, and there was an added bonus to the fact that she was female, small and viewed as perfectly harmless.

Thankfully, nothing was able to harm her as she happened to have a “hero” rush to her rescue…also probably eyeing the clear outsider from a much farther distance for his own reasons. She was considered fresh meat to this region, but the fact that she wasn’t the only newbie around helped to keep her afloat. Her newest friend, Em, who was also by her side and almost mugged that night, was bathed in the lighter greens, pinks and laces of the wealthier areas; putting a target on her back just the same if not more.

Never in a million years did this city girl ever predict that the adventure she’d find out in the desert would be like this. To be working as sleazy stage performer in a saloon, where with the flirtatious wink of an eye and the slightest touch on an intoxicated patron’s shoulder, she could spill all of their dirtiest of secrets; selling them out to an infamous criminal who she happened to work for under a life debt. And not only that, but the only other female performer was stuck in the exact same situation. She now carries a small pistol at all times, tucked away in her dresses to avoid becoming “slave labor” for anyone else.

Her boss, at least, is neither uninteresting to interact with nor fugly to look at. Unlike the twisted tales most hear carried on through whisper and rumor, this outlaw had no gold or snaggley teeth, yellowed and blackened by a severe cigarette addiction. He was not wrinkly, smelly, drunk or uncivilized with the worst possible priorities. In fact, he was young in the face, bright although tired in the eyes, curt and crass sure- but his heavily accented speech was never slurred nor derogatory in manner. His lips were pretty and his hair healthy, curly and red like wild fire underneath that always tipped forwards black hat.

Unknown was just as much of a mystery as he was made out to be, her questions never properly answered even when able to be so close to him. Why would someone so youthful chose the life of a criminal? Had he really given up living by honest means so early in life? It puzzled her, and at first she wrote him off as the type to get off to ruining other’s lives from the shadows. But, that “logic” never quite seemed to fill in those infuriating blanks.

As the three of them acted as a team of sorts, Em, Uyu and Unknown, both ladies were equally as testy with their boss in their own rights. Uyu initially forced herself to stamp him as her definition of a “bad person” in her mind for safety, as just because he saved her life and didn’t appear oh so horrid never meant letting her guard down was ok. So, while she made certain to answer to his beck and call, she often at first nipped at those hands which sinned, to keep distance but also to understand his troubling actions. It died down soon enough though, as their words shared within a series of secret letters gave her a different understanding of the one who saved her. He was an anomaly she was dying to always study, pulled by a rope of curiosity, itching to dissect him in person despite what troubles could follow with face-to-face interactions. She wanted to trust him, to ease his tired mind and also make him spill every secret and burden. It was beyond tempting to reach out every time she met his eyes across the room at the bar.

Em, on the other hand, was very different than she..or at least appeared to be. Their banter was certainly always funny, although the possible consequences of outright being cheeky and rude occasionally frightened Uyu at first. They had no real evidence that he wouldn’t dispose of them if they proved to be more trouble than they’re worth.

Unknown acted especially buggy when Em spewed on about what cuddling up to the town’s mayor earned her in terms of payment for him. She’d never miss a beat on it either, teasing that he was possibly jealous and or that perhaps he didn’t want their secret services after all. Those were always the more awkward of moments, the outlaw stiffer than ever as he tried to bubble out reasons why keeping a lesser flirtatious distance from the mayor would perhaps be best. Despite his warnings, Em continued anyways, providing better intel than Uyu ever could, her pinker counterpart more afraid of being pawed at by the higher forces of the town.

As performers, the two girls had their differences, which earned them their own titled roles. Em was bold and testy, good at teasing and buttering people up into purchasing more liquor. She kept them talking as they tried to ensure they got to keep her around, hogging attention for themselves. Uyu instead was more focused and driven when it came to the acting portions, paying less attention to guests and more attention to her song and dance routines. She felt more uncomfortable with the flirtatious improve, but with a script things came much easier. Uyu’s shyness with guests and Em’s bravery allowed the bar to market them off as more of the “innocent” v.s. “mischievous” types, and they played their roles well as professionals. Ever call Uyu a floozy and you’ll end up hearing it, as it’s “dead wrong” because she’s actually an actor.

Outside of bar work, Em had her fun targeting the small things when it came to Unknown, wether it was making fun of his deeper country accent and verbiage or pissing him off with jokes about running away with the corrupter powers’ wives. While Uyu admired her ability to be so able to not give a fuck about the fact that Unknown was a scary criminal, she was not brave enough to push in the same manner for a little while. Only later on down the line did she grow more comfortable, Unknown becoming subjected to listening to two pretty city slickers teasing him about the way he spoke, laughing because it’s hard to take threats seriously after being referred to as “stupid as one of em' dusty old bug eyed desert critters that ends up hit by a wagon for not payin' close enough attention”.

If you were to ever find the girls sending everyone home to take care of closing alone, you’d know this generous offer was actually to sneak in a special outlaw after hours for a private chit-chat. If you were to also watch the scene unfold further, you’d think Unknown was playing dirty to get special treatment from the town’s favorite working ladies. But, as Uyu slipped a taste of Yoosung’s famous pie past Unknown’s lips, Em on his other side leaning in to deliver her secrets into his ear, the routine meeting felt like nothing exactly heinous. The girls could really only find themselves getting a kick out of Unknown’s stiffer posture as they stayed in full costume, having the privilege of being so closely pressed against either side of him without being marked for death.

#idea dump #writing dump #saeran choi #unknown saeran #mystic messenger #unknown mystic messenger #cmc #custom mc #cmc MysticMessenger #ocs #if any of the details are wrong I’m sorry I need to reread the fic as it’s been a while 🙃

15 notes · View notes

batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

Text

yet another ask dump yeehaw!

do you ever think that jay's mother was one of those bitch who believes in horoscope and tarots and things like that and so he believes in these things too, or it is just me projecting?

sheila haywood took one look at jason's birthchart said 'nah this won't do' and left.

Wait, but what happens when the justice league does find out that Bruce and John fucked? Lmao it sounds like it would be hilarious, really, I don’t want a justice league that doesn’t make fun of Bruce for like his entire life.

barry runs out of the meeting immediately and comes back with an entire sti testing kit. diana fully seriously wants bruce to get tested while bruce is sitting there like 'come on guys, you're being ridiculous, i already checked twice'

john is standing in the corner clearly offended while bruce is just like 'don't even say anything, constantine, you fucked a shark'

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

on the one hand, good for him, on the other hand, bro, how do you still have a secret identity when your superhero name is just your last name,,,,

Your fic on ao3 was GOLD PLEASE CONTINUE I loved Dinah's cameo btw ( @purple-vixen

thanks so much! i already continued but this ask is like 10 years old because i'm a notorious procrastinator (also yes! i love dinah so much aahhhhhhhhhhhh)

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

bruce internally: holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit bruce externally: get out of my city, alien

AHHH ur multimedia fic is the only thing that brings me happiness anymore continue it forever pls

uhh thanks, but can't continue it forever because my attention span is that of a toddler on crack on a good day and i can't function without at least 10 things going on at the same time and music in the background

Oi, so I'm getting into dc and watching batman the animated series, and they use fruitcake a lot. Which I thought was very funny and wanted to share w you - Denilla

wait like fruitcake (food) or fruitcake (derogatory) ?

young justice 🤝 teen titans slut shaming batman

tim drake and dick grayson to their respective teams 'you guys stop it, that's my dad'

Happyhoganon: If an eighty year old Batman had fought crime in Gotham City for decades and the only threats to him and the city lately are a wheel chair bounded Penguin, your usual purse snatchers and a few con artists popping up every now and then, how well could the Dark Knight do in maintaining the peace in Gotham despite him being just somewhat fit to do that as an elderly man (which says A LOT given how old he is)

uhh he'll probably do what my grandpa does and that is ruthlessly prank them until they die of shame.

in the death in the family interactive movie there's an ending where Jason is tasked with raising Damian and he decides he's gonna raise Damian to take down the waynes and al ghuls which uh maybe isn't great BUT the idea of Jason raising Damian... PRICELESS. CHAOTIC. I just need more people to know about this :)

yes i saw that wow holy shit but jason would accidentally drop damian on his head one (1) hour in and jason just yeets him into the lazarus pit.

Headcanon: The Penguin has a really hard time fighting any of the Robins because of his avian obsession means there's always a small part of his mind that's like "Birb. Child. Protect" ( @subspacecadet )

as soon as dick becomes nightwing the penguin is like 'you know what, fuck this dude' and shoots at him.

Y'all talking about King Shark dating Constantine, let's not forget about John literally hooking up with Satan

listen there's a clear difference between monsterfucker and satanfucker in that king shark is literally a shark and satan still looks like a normal dude

Does everyone in Gotham think Batman is a teen dad?

everyone in gotham thinks batman has been around since gotham was founded, but they do think that bruce wayne is actually a teen father and dick grayson's biological dad.

why. why would you do that fancast when you know it will only hurt people

what? i loved my fancast it was really well done. i did it with good representation in mind and i really managed that with alfred pennyworth being ✨italian✨

Seeing james charles a jason gave me psychic damage how dare you i need to wash my eyes

well that's a you problem isn't it?

do you think dick grayson thirst tweets about nightwing just to annoy his family/cause problems on purpose in general?

he thinks nightwing is hot, next question.

holy jiminy cricket batman, its as cold as the good lords ass crack in here!!

i- what? this is why i don't fuck with english expressions it's way too goddamn weird

Brooooooo, your teen dad!Bruce au is soooo good. I've got brainrot.

Honestly if you ever write anymore, I'd read that shit twice. Sign me the fuck up. Good stuff, Good Stuff.

uh yeah i'm thinking about writing a fic, but i have exams coming up and i don't wanna fail because that would suck. but after i'll certainly be writing more tho

your teen dad AU is so great! bruce acting like a big brother for all of like a week before he's telling everyone about his son. what if in the AU dick meets the JL because they need to rescue him? maybe he's in trouble/kidnapped at a gala and bruce starts calling for JL. clark finds him and has to fly with dick to bring him home - that's how dick and clark meet and superman becomes dick's fave hero. he goes around the manor thinking he can fly with a red blanket draped around him like a cape.

actually- if you want a young dad! bruce fic with like that kinda stuff(just with damian) go check uhh- in for a penny by cdelphiki. it's really good and bruce is like 24/25-ish. (and dick's there!!!)

This account has solely convinced me that Tim is a trash goblin ( @hamilcat-and-magic-turtle )

because he is. that boy has slept in dumpsters on multiple occasions even if he is the son of a billionaire.

Okay but when you said victory dance I did think of the whole justice league defeating the big bad and then they all start flossing

well that's exactly what hal jordan does and that's why batman uses a gun now. no but the victory dance in my opinion is like the 'we're all in this together' dance from high school musical.

The horrors in Invincible s1 was nothing compared to the comics, I cant wait for s2

oh well okay, i mean i personally react to horror and violence by laughing awkwardly so i can't wait to be called a monster for accidentally laughing at a mass murder.

I'm currently watching Batman: The Brave and The Bold and- Bruce is just talking about Oliver like he's an old love (@nightwings-kid)

okay im going to watch that lmao that's totally and completely in character for him tho.

The invincible comic is like super gratuitous with its violence so much so I'm shocked the show was able to adapt it in a faithful way! Anyway had the show been live action it absolutely wouldn't have the same impact as it does as an animated show and I'm so glad so many people agree with me on that

also because a live action casting would've been like uhh amanda stenberg for amber, the dude- the guy from the supernatural but with a mustache for omni-man, and scarlet johanssen for debbie grayson

Debbie grayson is a milf, yes. You're welcome for the invincible propoganda, now you can questions your life. Bruce def seems like the perfect father next to Omni-man. Like they really took a rip off justice league and I was like well, now I'm attached even tho I was like hah I know who they're supposed to be. And then bam- death gore death gore gore gore sad Mark grayson just had to have daddy issues. Why does every character have daddy issues. I'm sick of the attacks

because daddy issues make a person arguably funnier, that's why i'm not even remotely funny (haha good dad flex). i liked that it was dark contextually, but not in the colouring, bc i hate when it's like 'uh yeah graphic murder and now a shot so dark you have to sit in a dark room and squint at the screen to faintly see the characters. (like dcau ugh)

About the Wayne insurance, for a moment I thought you would put the video with moans over the waves.

i mean- i could've done that, but rick rolling seemed more family friendly.

Its the first time in forever that im surpise rickrolled, i usually expect it. Congratulations (i really should know better this is tumblr)

i get rickrolled so often but i actually like the song so i dont really give a fuck

Actually, my information about Damian and John's kids is outdated because it was revealed that the old men telling the kids stories about the Supersons were actually Jon and Damian the whole time. I was blinded by my thirst for Grandpa!Bruce Wayne but I was wrong... I liked my version better, tbh (@artemisa97)

fair enough. but i'd honestly like to see damian and jon getting together, just because it's a really fun dynamic and their friendship was really cute when they were kids. (also idk maybe it would be nice to have one (1) main batfam/superfam character that's not cishet)

How am i JUST finding your blog skdskfkd you're so fucking funny and ur takes are hot

i thought u were calling me hot :( but youre not :( crime detected (but lmao thanks)

So I have depression and I swear that your memes are one of the few things that have made me laugh so thank you 💛🥺 (@katekanebadass)

aw you're welcome, and i hope you're doing okay!

The metropolis memes are so funny, I love them 💀😌

i think metropolis is also so fucking funny it deserves more attention imagine having your entire police force being upstaged by an alien from kansas and his kids

as an american i feel your complete lack of knowledge of us geography is just so sexy (platonic) ❤️

thanks so much (i also don't know any other geography, i'm not kidding, like you can tell me you're from hungary and it will just blank, there will be nothing that comes to mind)

In the DC universe they don't say "Can't have shit in Detroit" they say "Can't have shit in Gotham"

this just reminds me of that guy whose porch got stolen like the steps to his door, and i'm thinking of people living in gotham and waking up without a front door and going "can't have shit in gotham"

honestly all i know about chicago is the bean, so. what would gotham's famous sculpture be?

gigantic gargoyle statue in front of one of the police precincts because a villain thought it was a smart way to keep the police inside, but it's too heavy to move.

why tf do people go on about how batman "works alone" or how he's the "lone wolf" when he like 38290202 members in his family

bc people think it's cool that a grown man in his 30s has no friends or family instead of calling it what it is (sad)

Bruce is gotham's sugar daddy

why would say something so controversial yet so brave.

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

dick: gerard way are you in position, gerard way are you in position

tim: for the last fucking time, my codename is 'totally not count olaf' this week, abbafan 3000

dick: shut up my codename isn't 'abbafan 3000'

dick: it's 'abbafan number 1' and you know it

I have a feeling Tim drake is ur favourite batfamily member but okay u don't have favs if u say so ok

i mean he is, i won't deny it. but i love each and every one of the batfam just the same, i just have a weak spot for short dumbass nerds, because i'm a short dumbass nerd.

Omg i fuckin love boy meets world too fam shsjkfk

bro boy meets world was the shit!!! it was just fire and awesome and so fucking great like bro. it was so good im not even going to be accepting criticism

you know I find the whole "joker completes batman" thing a bit disgusting considering the horrendous stuff the batfamily went through because of the joker and let's not get started on the "joker has a point" thing like yeah he's this cool complex villain but he's absolutely batshit crazy

like yes! i get what you mean the joker just fucking sucks man he doesn't do shit for batman's character or the batfam he's literally just annoying as fuck. like the joker has a point' shit is so stupid. i will accept 'magneto was right' because he fucking was and i think he didn't do anything wrong, but joker? he's just like that. he's not even cool and complex he's just a weirdo with a bleach kink at this point.

ALSO YOUR RACISM POST- SO TRUE BESTIE

thanks bestie, i'm glad you agree.

in today's essay of why I think cass should become batman- I was thinking Tim would probably be the most efficient batman in many ways but I also think he wouldn't want to be batman tbh none of the batfamily members would want to be batman because they're trying to outgrow him but cass is the one who wants to represent the symbol that is batman

absofuckinglutely i will say it again and again that cass represents the batsymbol more than anyone in the batfam, in batgirl (2000) she literally didn't care about anything else than bruce's oath to not kill, she thought the batsymbol was more important than anything in gotham. she's just an excellent character because her motivation to not kill is not 'i'm scared i can't come back from it' or 'well my dad says no murder so i'll go along with it' but that she's killed somebody as a young child and she never wants to kill a human ever again and that's so fucking beautiful for a new batman like yes.

need more cass, duke and tim inclusion in gothamite memes

yes yes, a tall order of cass, duke and tim coming up in 1-14 business days

oldest to youngest batfam members cus I'm confused as shit

okay order of being taken in: dick, jason, tim, cass, damian, duke order of age: alfred, bruce, dick, cass, jason, tim, duke, damian (though cass and jason are around the same age general consensus is that cass is a little older)

I'm so confused Steph is a redhead?? like how was it that hard to get this right? the source material is literally right there and free

cw is jared, 19

do you receive anon hate? if so, how do you deal with it

uh no, i'm not remotely popular enough to get anon hate and i also don't say a lot of things that would attract anon hate, but i do send anon hate to @the-real-peter-parker because he forgot about the specialists from winx club

Wait how many languages do you speak??

uhh- 5 if you include latin, but that's a dead language and i'm really bad at it. but english, my native language, german, and french also, tho german and french not fluently.

You can mix aguaepanela with aguardiente 😈 and is tasty

okay but now i'm curious if the liquor deserves the 😈 emoji or if that's a you problem. but i googled it and it looks like something you'd take one sip of and then not remember the rest of your evening.

#i love all of you guys so much thanks for all these asks #some of these are literally from march but fuck it #the day tumblr puts dates next to anon messages is the day i close my inbox crawl into a hole and die #it's such a basic task to answer asks but i don't want to bother anyone with asks clogging up their timeline #and if i don't have a funny or good answer i'm like 'uhh okay won't answer it now then'#so this is for you #also i deleted a few asks because it gives me mental pain to see my inbox go over 50 and it's almost at 100 #i was complaining about having too many asks to the-real-peter-parker like months ago and then i had 45 asks in my inbox #now it's amassed to going over 100 twice #but no i love all of you and you're great and you're all fantastic and i lvoe you #muchos kiss kiss #kiss kiss for my kiddies lvoe you #invincible spoilers #dc #dcu #dc comics #ask #anon #bataranswers #i really wanna try aguapanela now i'm gonna see if i can find panela somewhere and review it for you babes #uh yeah that's it #muchos gracias for all your questions babes

60 notes · View notes

soranociel · 3 years

Text

my hatred to g*jo explained that no one asked for.

Here we fucking go. I just. I don't know okay I really did fucking loved so in love so liked G*jo. I liked him the first time he appears in the anime all being goofy and shit. I was like "I like him!" but it was just all fun and games nothing deep because it was all introduction to everyone's characters.

Then as I watch more I liked him more because oh my god I like strong ass characters, and he's unapologetically himself, funny, not gonna lie I would definitely have so much fun being around him even though I'll bully him (affectionately).

AND THEN it is confirmed he's not faithful, and he wears glasses when he wanna meet girls idk. It kinda ticks me off hehehe listen, I just don't like unfaithful playboyish men. I KNOW. I KNOW yall gonna say "bruuuh he's just a drawing why you so bothered :||" yes I know. But I like daydreaming lmfao yes, I know, maybe I need help or to touch grass. So that thought always perturbed me whenever I'm trying to indulge myself in reading something or just daydreaming yeehaw.

Okay but then I read the manga right, I was already disliking him so much like this man I hate him he's probably self-centered egoistic mf. Then.. Then I read about his past and stuff. And who fucking cried??? Me!!!! Ew, right? But seriously. I don't know, I sympathise with him and all that. Like, I hate him, or maybe I didn't actually really hate him because that's a strong word and I was just trying to hate him less. He's so much more than a narcissistic funny tall annoying playful dude. And I loved him.

Then whenever I think about him being all playboyish I'm like "🙄🙄i hate him". And more often than not I feel like you know irl, I would avoid that g*jo type of person because I just know I can't even get close to them but deep down inside I low-key want them hehehehshahhaha. HAHAHAHAH please yes maybe you're witnessing mental illness over all these rant. But really, I still hate him. (affectionately.)

OH ALSO LIKE I LITERALLY JUST WANNA SEE HIM SHUT UP and have someone be more blunt than him idk.

Yeah so this is just me being honest with feelings which is rare so YE

#all moots please forgive me #yes i need help #PLEASE DON'T UNFOLLOW N LEAVE ME

6 notes · View notes

inber · 4 years

Text

Play Out - Jaskier x Reader OS

A lovely Witcherling contacted me and lit this fire in my brain with their spark; they are an opera singer and told me that ‘voice’ rivalry is totally a thing and I was like heck yeehaw and this is the result. This is for you, lovely! I mean, it’s for all of us. God I love me a hatefuck. I only have one taglist because HOLY SHIT I’m lazy, so I’m sorry if you’re tagged and you’re not about Jaskier; skip this one. Not my gif!

Summary: You steal Jaskier’s gig, and he’s unimpressed about it. In fact, he seems unimpressed with you entirely. Pairings: Jaskier x Reader, Geralt is here and he thinks you’re both stupid. Warnings: Rudeness. Socially and physically. Angry sex. MxF. Smutty smut. Word Count: 4567 eyyy sequential Tags: @persephonehemingway @xmother-mortemx @alwayshave-faith @alliyjane @stretchkingblog97 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @geeksareunique @didi0666 @tigers-pat @asgardianangelo @thefangirlsblog @agniavateira @superkamigurudende @i-am-sarah @punkrogers-jerkbarnes @deansbbysblog @mary-ann84 @khaleesi-provenance @locht3ssmonster @thatonesebstanfan @afterthenightprevails @saint-hardy @ayamenimthiriel @goldensilvan @hina-chans-stuff @salaveenas-personal-blog @elsassnowflake @msmimimerton @delightfully-anonymous @uncoolcloudyhead @buggy-blogs @magic-and-the-macabre @chook007 - if you’d like to be added to my list, send me an ask please!

Masterlist is here. If you’d like to donate for my time, you can do so here if you’d like. Thanks for reading!

Jaskier is sulking. Geralt is finding it a refreshing change of pace, because the bard is brooding into his wine, his boyish features furrowed with a frown. If this keeps up, the Witcher thinks, then he’ll have time to think about the complexities of the upcoming route in peace, and–

“I can’t believe they wanted me to open for her!” Jaskier explodes, and Geralt sighs so softly that it’s almost imperceptible. “Do they not know who I am? What I’ve done for music? How I’ve ached and bled – I’ve literally bled, Geralt – for my work! What’s she done? Turned up with a harp – a harp, Geralt – and probably, I don’t know, flashed her bosom at the tavern-keep. If she’s even pretty, that is. You can’t be pretty and talented.”

The Witcher makes a quiet grunt.

“Except for me. And you, I guess. Except you’re more… regally handsome. And I’m… hmm. Youthfully dashing. Yes.” He’s become absorbed in that thought, now, and Geralt lifts his ale to his lips. It sloshes when Jaskier pounds the table with a fist, and the Witcher closes his eyes, trying to locate the remnants of his tattered patience. “I just don’t understand!”

“Maybe she’s talented and you should shut up and listen for once.” Geralt growls, and Jaskier places a hand upon his breast, the offence blazing in his vivid blue eyes.

“More talented than me?!”

“How should I know?” The Witcher barks, drinking of his disturbed ale, “I’ll never get to hear her if you don’t close your damnable mouth.”

Jaskier huffs, and slumps over his wine, toying with the cup. “I shouldn’t have to open for anyone.” He mutters, and is summarily ignored.

You’re nervous. Of course you’ve played many a small inn, and a few larger taverns, but this audience is massive as compared to other crowds you’ve faced. It’s a silly thing for a solo performer to admit, but sometimes you get stage fright. Waiting to be announced as the next act can feel like waiting for an executioner to call your name.

There’s also something of a disappointment; the tavern-keep told you that Jaskier – known in some circles as the bard Dandelion – might be playing before you. However, he’s sat in a corner table with the unmissable Geralt of Rivia, his back to the stage, occasionally gesticulating. There’s another bard of lesser repute warming the crowd, although he’s doing a rather poor job; everyone is talking over him, and you’re fairly sure at one point he rhymed ‘orange’ with ‘borange’.

This is going to be a hard gig, you think, clutching your faithful lap-harp.

“Our thanks to…” The tavern-keep squints at the poor bard, who mutters, and the man speaks again, “Talden of Kagen!” He applauds, and some of the crowd follows suit, although it sounds rather disinterested and short. “Next, for your entertainment…”

You stand as he introduces you, deepening your breath to try and find some calm, taking the stage with what you hope are slow, graceful steps. Much of the people begin to mutter amongst themselves; women are less popular as entertainment if they are clothed, and you see many backs already turning. You’re used to that.

Smiling at the tavern-keep, you take a seat, and settle your harp. You pluck a few strings, take a sip of the wine beside you, and launch boldly into your first song.

The whole place goes silent as a tomb under a midnight moon. Your voice, rich and soulful and precise, tells the tale you’ve written; a princess cursed to find unlikely love with a monster, who she meets in secret. It’s a song about misunderstanding, about perceptions of beauty, about hope and rebellion. It’s slow but powerful, and the last notes of the chorus linger in the air like expensive pipe-smoke, curling in twists to vanish into the rafters above.

For a heartbeat, the damn place is still quiet. You try not to let your body tremble, although your hands are gripping the edges of your harp as though it might be an anchor to ground you to the earth. And then the cheering begins.

The rowdy crowd stamp their feet and clap and howl their praise, and you feel yourself grinning, bowing your head in modest thanks, feeling the heat of pride and adrenaline nip at your breast. It’s actually difficult to begin your second song over the cacophony, but the men elbow one another with loud ’shh‘ing in an effort to properly hear you.

“Wow.” Geralt murmurs, in the corner the two have holed up in.

“Really?” Jaskier hisses, although he can’t tear his eyes away from the stage where you are performing, “You’re gonna give that a ’wow’? You’ve never ‘wow'ed at any of my songs, Geralt!” He tips the rest of his wine down his throat, and pours more from the jug. “Her rhymes are… they could use work, and did you hear that chord in the first verse? Totally off-key.”

“You sound like a jealous housewife.”

“I do not–” The bard trails off as you hit a high note with a thrilling trill, and a murmur ripples through the approving people. Every face in the joint is turned to you. He forgets his point as he listens to this, your third song. It’s faster-paced, a fun ballad about a girl who engages in a frisky romp with a stable-hand, forgets her knickers in the aftermath, and is caught in a windstorm on her way home. It’s always popular with men; Jaskier has to fight not to smile. But fight he does.

Even Geralt chuckles at the end, adding two beats of his hands as he claps with the audience, and the bard feels as though he’d be happier if the Witcher had punched him in the face.

“Why don’t you just travel with her, if you love her so much.” He pouts like a child, crossing his arms.

“If she knows the value of silence, maybe I will.” Geralt muses.

After your fourth song is sung, you take a break for wine, meeting those that would come and shake your hand and tip you with coin; it’s only halfway through your set and your pocket is heavy. You’re alive with gratitude and glee, thrilled that the patrons are taken by your tales. You’ve yet to eat a considerable meal, and so you try to kindly refuse the many offers of drink that are extended to you. Nobody wants to listen to a drunk crooner wailing off-key.

The rest of your set is flawless in the eyes of your audience, although you hear your mistakes and mentally catalogue them for inspection later, ever the perfectionist. As the last note of your last ballad – a song about the harshness of winter yielding to spring, told as a tale in which the seasons are personified as sisters – trills in the air, you’re given a standing ovation, and truly humbled, you curtsy as best as you know how. You’re not of noble blood, and it’s perhaps the clumsiest part of your routine, but after that voice, nobody really cares.

You collect your tips, and your evening’s payment, exhilarated; when you partake of drink now, the alcohol does affect you, the rush of performing ebbing from your blood-flow and allowing you to feel intoxication. Emboldened, you flirt back with men, laugh with women who have stories strikingly similar to your stable-hand’s tale, and nibble at food bought for you. You make your way through the crowd, and find yourself close to a man you’ve idolised for a time – and his rather enormous bodyguard, who doesn’t seem as fierce as the stories paint him to be. In fact, he looks contemplative, and you see something gentle in his peculiar eyes.

Jaskier, however, looks drunk.

Downing the remainder of your own cup, you approach the duo, and bow your head. “Well met, Geralt of Rivia, Dandelion–”

“My name is Jaskier.” He admonishes, squinting his beautiful blue eyes at you.

With a frown, you correct yourself. “Forgive me, Jaskier. I’ve heard so many of your songs. I wanted to tell you how deeply I admire your work.”

“Ohhh really?” He sing-songs, and you’re confused by the darkness in his stare. “Is that why you took my place on stage tonight? Admiration? Ow, Geralt–”

He’s clearly been kicked beneath the table. “Forgive him, my lady. What I’m sure he means to say is that you sing beautifully.” Geralt’s voice is the low promise of an avalanche, a gorgeous growl, and you feel the hair on your arms stand on end. The longer you linger there, the more you realise why they call him 'The White Wolf’.

“You are too kind, Geralt of Rivia” You accept, smiling, “I am pleased you enjoyed my work.” Your attention flicks back to Jaskier, who is pouring more wine. “I was unaware that you were to play… well, actually, I thought you were to play before me. I’m saddened that you did not.”

“Darling,” The bard purrs, “I don’t play before anyone. Don’t care how lovely she looks, don’t care how nice her rack—ow! Geralt, that’s my leg.”

The Witcher’s face reads I know, you idiot, and he looks at you with an apology in his cat-gold eyes. You’re uncomfortable and upset, fidgeting, and yet too nervous to simply flee. You hate the idea that you’ve upset Jaskier. “I-I’d no idea you had claim on this stage…”

“He has claim on fuck all.” Geralt rumbles, and you bite your lower lip.

“Well, he makes me wish I’d never come here.” You mutter, gripping your empty wine cup harder.

“I’m sure your father said something similar to your mother on the night of your conception, sweetheart.” Jaskier slurs.

The sound of your slap across his face is incredibly loud in the tavern, the force of it whipping his head; some people turn and chuckle, but you’re boiling with anger now, trembling.

“Good Witcher.” You bob your head in a bow, before storming off, pacing upstairs to your room. You cannot believe what an absolute dick Jaskier is, and the disappointment of it pricks your eyes with hot tears. You hate that you cry when you’re angry. It has been said that you should never meet your heroes, and now you understand why.

Geralt watches you leave, watches Jaskier stroke the side of his face that has a very clear red hand-print on it, and huffs in disgust. “That was uncalled for, bard.”

“You’re uncalled for!” Jaskier retorts, unable to access the part of his brain that allows for wit; he picks up the wine jug, stumbles into the elbow of a working girl dressed in red silks, and takes the both of them upstairs to his own room.

Well, Geralt thinks to himself, nursing the rest of his ale, least it’s quiet now.

—————

It’s months before fate sees fit to cross your paths again.

Your name is spreading, the humour and depth of your ballads second only to the tales of your siren-song voice, and you’re able to afford finer clothes and your own horse to travel. You stick to small inns at first, modestly, but they soon become packed out; in time, you play taverns and song-halls. The fame never gets to your head, though; you know that time changes all things, and that someone more talented will someday take the spotlight. For now, you try and enjoy yourself.

With your cloak-hood up, you enter a smaller establishment to simply have dinner and some wine alone, stabling your horse outside. Once you’ve secured a room, you turn to find somewhere to sit in the populated place, only to lay eyes upon Geralt – ever brooding in a corner, as is his wont. Jaskier doesn’t seem to be with him, and you recall his kindness, so you make your way over.

“Well met, Geralt of Rivia.” You bow your head as he looks up, surprised at the sudden company. “I’m–”

“The songstress with the harp. Yes, I remember.” He doesn’t smile, but there’s something about his mouth that is kind nonetheless.

“Forgive me, I hope I’m not interrupting. There are few places to sit.”

“Help yourself.” He gestures to the seat across from him, and with a thankful smile, you take it, placing your wine down.

“I’ve ordered food. I don’t wish to be rude and eat in front of you – may I order you something too?”

He grunts, quiet, and you don’t know what that means, so you catch the attention of a bar-maid and order him more ale.

“This man needs no introduction from me,” You hear a bar-keep speak behind you, and turn to the stage, “So what am I even doing up here?” He receives a pity laugh from the audience and, self-amused, he continues. “Please, a round of applause for Jaskier!”

As the bard takes the stage to various cheers, you feel your upper lip curling with disdain. Ah, fuck. Whipping your head around, you try to ignore the richness of his voice, and the clever way that he winds innuendo around words. The clear, practiced sound of his fingers on the lute-strings. He has such long fingers, you think, and then wonder where that thought manifested from.

Geralt is watching you over his new tankard, silent, and you begin to eat your dinner, trying not to stab the spatchcock too harshly with your fork. After a time, you meet the Witcher’s precious metal gaze in despair.

“Why does he hate me?” You whisper, and the Witcher hmms again.

“He doesn’t.” Is your reply, with no elaboration. You ponder that, recalling the last time you’d met, and work on your potatoes. Quietly, you offer one of the fat-roasted morsels to Geralt, who accepts it graciously, and you eat to the soundtrack of Jaskier’s song.

It’s such a nice background that you don’t even notice when he’s finished playing, until he’s at your table, hands on his hips. He’s staring at you with the same intensity as he did before, and you bristle, sipping your wine.

“You’re in my seat.” He remarks, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Don’t see your name on it.” You shoot back; Geralt watches the two of you like a tired parent.

Jaskier reaches over to your dinner, scooping up a fingerful of left-over gravy, and paints a 'J’ on the backrest of the wood. “There.” He declares, smug.

“Gross.” You hiss, standing, not wishing to get the mess upon your clothing. Triumphantly, he sits, and you roll your eyes. “You know, I thought–”

“It’s Y/N!” Someone calls, and you whip your head, the movement disturbing your cloak-hood enough for it to fall. So much for incognito. “Play us a song, darlin’!”

“Oh, I’m not here to…” You stammer, holding up your hands.

“No, go on,” Jaskier goads, nudging you, “Get on up there.”

You turn to glare at him, unstrapping your harp from your back. “Fine. Thanks for warming the stage for me.”

Stalking towards the steps that lead to the platform, you smirk as you hear him splutter behind you, and the quiet rumble of Geralt’s laughter.

“I like her.” The Witcher remarks, as you begin to play. He’s watching your performance, but you’re lost in the music as always, pouring your voice and soul into the song.

“I don’t.” Jaskier realises he has gravy on his sleeve, and tries to wipe it off.

“Yes you do.” Geralt notes, drinking more of his ale. He claps when you finish your tune, and you launch into another.

“I do not. She’s all…” He makes a wave of his hand, “You know? Better. I mean, she’s not better than me. But she acts like it. With her… ways.” The bard stares at the half-moon crescent of lipstick you’ve left on your wine cup, and wonders what your lips taste of. The thought makes him blink, hard.

“Her parents are dead.” Geralt mutters, and that catches Jaskier’s attention; all-too well he remembers what he’d said to you before.

“How do you know that?” He hisses lowly, feeling something that might be a stab of guilt tugging at his heart.

“The locket around her neck. Sometimes she toys with it absently, opens and shuts it. There’s a portrait of them in there.”

“So?” Jaskier dismisses, but his voice sounds weaker, “Maybe she’s just a daddy’s girl.”

“Listen.” Geralt directs, nodding at the stage.

The verse of your song is about loss, about suffering a shipwreck and finding yourself the only survivor atop driftwood in the centre of a merciless sea that toys and torments you. It’s about the harshness of salt and the sting of illusions that dance like phantoms on distant horizons. It’s about never quite reaching the shore. Some of the patrons are wiping their eyes, and Jaskier finds his own filling, his poet’s heart touched.

Alas, his idiot brain remains unscathed.

“People lose parents. How was I to know?” Hastily, he rubs his eyes as if he’s simply gotten something caught in them.

“You should apologise.” The Witcher suggests, and it’s the bard’s turn to grunt and lapse into silence.

When you’ve played a few songs and taken tips, you dip in your poor curtsy, and leave the stage. You don’t wish to return to Geralt – not with Jaskier present – and so you take your key from the keeper and go upstairs to your room.

Jaskier watches you ascend the steps, grits his teeth, and curses under his breath. After a few minutes, he rises, and follows. Smugly, the Witcher sinks back into his seat, and enjoys his precious silence again.

—————

The knock at your door is soft, so soft that you think you’ve imagined it. You’re removing your shoes, and only rise to answer when it comes again, barefoot on the hardwood floors. Perhaps a shy chambermaid is checking on you.

“I have everything I–” You begin, and are startled into silence when you see Jaskier standing there. His expression is peculiar, a mix of frustration and – anger? – and you cock your hip, placing a hand there. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to–” He starts, stuttering for the first time since you’ve known him, and you raise your eyebrows, “I needed to tell you…” His lapus-lazuli eyes meet your own, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “…Your curtsy. It’s awful. Were you never taught how?”

You square your shoulders and narrow your eyes, gripping the door handle tighter. “That’s why you came up here? To tell me how to curtsy?” Incredulity drips from your tone.

“Well, if you’re going to thank your audience, you shouldn’t do it so… sloppily.” He tells you, straightening his spine, his annoyance matching your own.

“I hate you.” You hiss, and his upper lip curls.

“I hate you, too.” He spits back, and for a long moment you face off like that, the tension pulsing between you, the echoes of your emotions grating together like bare flesh on sea-bitten limestone.

In the next instant, you’re in his arms, and he’s kissing you with such intensity that he robs your breath, but you aren’t even aware because you’re kissing him back, scratching your hands through his hair, licking up the heat of his mouth, trading groans as he bites your lip and you suckle his cupid’s bow. He slams the door in his wake with his foot, and your hands grip the collar of his fine jerkin, tearing. Buttons pop off like dried corn over a flame, and your greedy fingers rake down his chest, through the hair, leaving vivid red claw-lines. He moans, nudging you back towards the bed, tugging hard at the corset that cinches your waist until he tires of the exercise and jerks the bask open, bending metal.

You fall back onto the mattress and he’s upon you, unwilling to be away from your lips for long; he kisses you as though you’re the only water he’s ever drunk, the only way to slake his thirst, and you match his ferocity, gasping for breath each time you briefly part. He shoves the skirts of your dress up, plants dirty, open-mouthed kisses at your neckline, bruises your collarbone with a suckling pop of skin. You pant beneath him, feeling his fingers at the ties of your knickers, unlacing them to pull the wettened cotton fabric down your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch with half-lidded eyes as he fixates his gaze upon your own – a clear river at springtime – and runs the flat of his tongue in a hard stripe up from your cunt to your clit, tasting you. The whimper that spills from your swollen lips is the only encouragement he needs.

He fits his mouth around the pearl of your clit and runs his tongue-tip in circles, sealing the contact in a suck, as two of his long, calloused fingers enter you, stretching, curving upwards. Your head falls back and you moan, fisting the bedspread; there was definitely a reason you’d thought of his hands before. He finger-fucks you like you’re the most finely crafted instrument in the world, exploring your crying cunt with a musician’s delicacy, finding the chords inside you that make you really sing; he maintains the pressure and consistent attention at your bud as he strokes you, his arm not tiring. When he finds your rhythm and he’s nuzzling the nerves at your mons with the slant of his nose, you’re openly squealing and chanting his name, bucking, a sweaty mess of tremors. “Come for me, you little bitch.” He hisses at your cunt, and you absolutely do.

The pulse of your pussy is fierce, the wash of your juices soaking his mouth and dripping to settle like dew on his chest hair; he moans with you, playing the music of your orgasm out as you crescendo; he keeps you at the peak, mindless and shaking, until you’re so hypersensitive that he withdraws, kissing your inner thighs, your mound, your stomach. When the rush is over, you find yourself aching and needy, wanting more of him. You kick him away with bare feet and he stumbles back, his ass hitting the floor; he grunts with bewilderment, looking furious, 'til you stand and pull your dress from your shoulders, letting it puddle on the ground. You’re an absolute goddess nude before him, and he stares in wonderment; you let him enjoy the sight of you for mere seconds before you’re on him, straddling his lap on the floor, kissing him again.

You taste the salt of yourself on his lips and both of you moan into the filthy embrace, your hands making quick work of his belt and the laces of his breeches that are hindering your exploration of him. His cock is beautiful, fitting his size; it curves slightly towards his body, and you shudder in anticipation, aware of how you can play that delicious angle in your favour. Your lips leave his, as you stroke him; he’s already red and weeping precome, and he lifts his hips into your grasp, lowly groaning. When you sink your puffy fucked-out cunt onto his length in one hard downward thrust, you bite the delicate skin of his neck at the same time, marking him. He howls at the differing sensations; the vice-tight heat of you, and the sharp pain. His hands fly to your hips, gripping.

The way you ride him is merciless, a power-fuck; he raises his hips to meet the roll of yours, nuzzles the bounce of your tits, hisses his delirium in whorls of breath as you take your pleasure from him, and gift him his own in return. He feels amazing, the ridge of his cock rubbing your g-spot again and again as you rut on the floor, and your second climax begins to threaten your walls, a flutter, a tale of an incoming inferno.

He rolls with you, cradling your head with care as he pushes you into the fur of the rugs before the fireplace; he lifts one of your legs up high onto his shoulder, allowing him deeper entrance, and rubs his string-calloused thumb over your engorged clit. You’re wailing, open mouthed, and he’s snarling like some feral beast, fucking you into the rugs so hard that you’ll both have friction burn, but you can’t feel that, you can’t feel anything but excruciating ecstasy as he undoes you again, making you buck in uneven jerks beneath him, the rake of your nails leaving savage marks at his back. “Fuck, fu-uck, you–” You sob, “Fucking bastard, oh fuck!”

With a roar he hunches over you, holding you as close as he possibly can as the tail-end of your orgasm milks his own from him; he comes furiously, his teeth pinched pearly together until some semblance of sense hits him. With a gasp he pulls out, and spends the rest of his load on your belly and breasts, frantically stroking the pleasure from his throbbing cock as he stares at you beneath him, writhing. He is wracked with it, destroyed by it; when he’s drained, he’s still pulsing and shaking, and he’s forced to collapse at your side to catch his breath and recover.

In the aftermath, you bask, letting small fragments of memory return to the lust-haze you’re nesting in. Wincing, he pulls a silk scarf from his breast pocket, and begins to clean your come-marked body with gentle reverence.

“Well, that–” You begin,

“I didn’t mean–” He starts. You both pause, and nervously chuckle.

“I don’t really hate you.” He admits, looking so vulnerable that you are silent, listening. “I… Gods help me, I was so jealous. I’ve never heard a voice like yours. I wanted to make it mine so much that I think I just… rejected you entirely, because…” He places the scarf down, “Why would such a voice want anything to do with mine?”

You reach up to palm his face, gently, and smile. “I don’t hate you, either. I think you’re a jerk, but I don’t hate you.”

He sighs, and settles back down. “Deserved. What I said – what I’ve said – there’s no excuse. I am sorry for treating you so poorly.” When his baby-blues fix upon your eyes, you have no more quarrel; you melt.

“Forgiven.” You whisper, rolling to spoon into his side. “Hmm. Would you… perhaps… like to write a song together, sometime?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, and he can’t hide the eagerness in his voice, one octave higher than usual. “Really?”

“Of course. Jaskier, I want everything to do with your voice. And the mouth that comes with it.”

The grin he gifts you is boyish and charming, whilst somehow hinting at all kinds of lust and fuckery. He’s a walking juxtaposition. “I’d love that.” Taking your hand, he presses his mouth against your fingertips, one by one. “And I’ll even let you sing first.”

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fan fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fandom #jaskier #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x reader #self insert #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

174 notes · View notes

openheart12 · 4 years

Note

Hi, yes, hello beautiful! Can you write a fic where MC accidentally sends Ethan her entire fanfic folder by mistake 😂🤣

How To Get Away With Fanfiction

I’m reliving my embarrassment 😭 but it is done and idk wtf happened with this lmao. This is also to make up for earlier kmjhygfd

Only tagging @ao719 @oofchoices @loveellamae @burnsoslow because no one else should have to read this unless they click on the read more and if they do... god bless. And thank you to Maroe for helping me come up with some of these ideas!

It had been a long day at work when Dr. Gertrude-Sue Claws made her way home to do the one thing that relaxed her; writing fanfiction.

She had thought of the perfect idea for Spirit and Rainbow Dash and her fingers flew across the keyboard.

There was something about the multi colors in his mane and tail that drew him to her. He lived by the phrase, “hump ‘em and dump ‘em,” which he planned on doing with Rainbow Dash, but not without consent because horse jail wasn’t fun. He had heard the horror stories from his human friends, Kurns and Bryce.

“Rainbow Dash,” he neighed.

“Spirit…” She neighed back in response, she knew all about his...extracurricular activities. He was the biggest fuck horse out of the herd. Ever since Rain had died from drowning, god bless, he hadn’t been the same. It was also why he paid more attention to Rainbow Dash because she had Rain in the first part of her name.

“Let’s do this,” he smirked with his horse mouth.

“Fine…” She turned her back to him as he reared on his hind legs and mounted her, letting out a series of neighs.

She laughed silently to herself before moving on her Owen Hunt fic and she knew how much she was going to enjoy this one especially.

Owen was walking through the halls when he saw five women stalking towards him like cats, one even had whiskers drawn on her face. “Anitah with the h, get him!” He heard one of them command and watched as she came up to him, kicking him in no man's land. He felt them drag him into an empty exam room.

“MAROE! You got the chainsaw?”

“Nah bruh, Bears and Rams were in charge of that,” she explained.

Anything but Krista, cocked her half shaved eyebrow at Burns and Ella. “Y’all got the chainsaw?”

“No, but I have the cream for the burn I’m about to inflict,” Burns snickered to herself at her own joke, the others joining in before getting back to business.

“Burns, Ella, go scope out the cafeteria for some good food because I can’t kill in good faith on an empty stomach and as me and Ella say, we always get food first,” Anything but Krista said, turning her attention to the two people left, throwing them both a knife. Then proceeded to stab Owen numerous times, but making sure not to hit any major organs yet.

“We need a blender,” Anitah with the h announced.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Anything but Krista and MAROE said at the same time, looking at each other and bursting into laughter at the jinx.

“If that was making a human smoothie, then yes. We’ll show him that no one messes with Derek Christopher Shepherd,” Anitah with the h said smugly, pulling a blender out from behind her back and plugging it into the wall.

“You...you pulled that out of your jacket?” MAROE asked in a surprising tone.

“Y’all don’t keep blenders in yours?” Anitah with the h asked as if that wasn’t common, but it was good to know that she was always prepared.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie came to life, “Team Bears/Rams to Team CA, what y’all want from here? Over and out.”

“Team CA to Team Bears/Rams, we want CookOut. Over and out.” Anything but Krista responded. “It’s about time y’all tried a little piece of heaven,” she looked at Anitah with the h and MAROE.

“That’s a negative ghost rider, the closest CookOut is on the other side of the country. Over and out.”

“Well you better get on your way because you two also need to try a little piece of heaven, we’ll save the good stuff for when you get back. Over and out.” The trio resumed their slice and dice game, taking a short break to play Choices because the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair had just been released and even Owen wasn’t going to keep them away from Sam Dalton.

A couple hours later, Burns and Ella arrived with the food, handing out their respective trays to their respective orderers, they were able to keep the milkshakes from melting by their cold hearts.

“Ahhh gimme my milkshake,” Anything but Krista snatched it from Burns’ hand, earning a slap on her hand from her adoptive mother and a threat of taking away her pony...again.

“Yooo this shake hits different,” Ella exclaimed.

“You could even say that it slaps,” MAROE added making her squeak.

“It’s the one good thing North Carolina has to offer for me,” Anything but Krista chimed in, fist bumping Anitah with the h because the struggle was real. The cows really did outnumber the people, they just hoped that there wouldn’t be a cow revolution because that would be awful except the yeehaw folk would probably survive since they did have a song called “A Country Boy Can Survive.”

“Burns, we left you the honor of picking the perfect weather for us to dispose of the body which is more like liquid at this point. We need rain, thunder, and lightning to erase all of the evidence. Watching “Forensic Files” has finally come in handy. And Ella, we need you to pretend to be a nurse or something to help us get out of here. I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead…” Anything but Krista admitted, but they expected that from her so they already had a plan in place.

“If anyone happens to see Derek Shepherd, I ask that you tell me,” MAROE added.

“Not if I find him first,” Anything but Krista said.

“He’s like fifty four years old…” Burns said being ever the good adoptive mother.

“Then I call Spencer Reid!” Anything but Krista exclaimed.

“I have Lucifer then,” MAROE challenged knowing that would get under her skin.

“Children, calm yourselves.” Burns shook her head.

“Hey, I’ll be eighteen in like a number amount of months,” Anything but Krista said.

“I’ll be eighteen before you,” MAROE said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’Ll Be EiGhTeEn BeFoRe YoU,” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and doing that Spongebob meme. After thinking of a better comeback, she grabbed her knife she used on Owen earlier and plunged it into MAROE’s back.

“Et tu, Brute?” MAROE said with shock in her voice before her body crumpled on the ground.

“Yes, bye bitch.”

The other three just stared as the blood drained from her body before turning their attention to Anything but Krista. They were the epitome of 👁👄👁.

“What? She wanted to “due” anyway. And at her funeral we can play “To Be So Lonely” because well she will be lol.”

“Anywaysss, we gonna get food or what?” Ella asked as she covered Owen’s body with a sheet.

“Wings?” Burns suggested and they all agreed. After arriving at the restaurant, they were very shocked to see MAROE sitting at a table waiting for them.

“It’s the trying to kill me for me,” she said upon taking their seats, glaring at Anything But Krista specifically.

“It’s the stealing my fictional husbands for me,” she retaliated.

“It’s the acting like children for me,” Burns' authoritative voice came.

“Sorry,” they both murmured as they looked over the menus to order their food. The rest of their lunch going smoothly, their victims already forgotten about. Don’t mess with hangry chicks who hate Owent Cunt.

“So who’s next?” Anitah with the h asked.

“Ahh you’ve gotten the first taste of blood and now you’re addicted,” Burns observed. She would make for a good profiler for the FBI at Quantico. She would have a cool nickname; Cunt Punter.

“Why not just kill everyone we hate?” Ella questioned.

“That’s a great idea! I say we kill Guy and Vanessa,” Anything but Krista suggested.

“And Landrat!” MAROE added, the whole group agreeing, finishing their lunch before getting to their killing spree.

Gertrude-Sue was laughing at her made up characters and story when she received an email from Ethonk Remy to send him a folder that she had. Goggle Drive was acting stupid so she didn’t realize that she had shared her fanfiction folder with her boss before it was too late. She saw a little giraffe pop up in the right hand corner telling her that he was already viewing what was inside the folder.

“Holy donkey claws,” she cried out loud, smacking her hands against her face.

Meanwhile, Ethonk was going through her folder when he came across a document and his eyes went wide. “What are they doing with the dog?” He said to himself.

Wonder pets, wonder pets

We're on our way

To help a friend and save the day

We're not too big

And we're not too tough

But when we work together, we've got the right stuff

Gooo wonder pets yaaaaay!

The phone

The phone is ringing

The phone

We'll be right there

The phone

The phone is ringing

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble somewhere

“What the hell are Wonder Pets?” He continued inspecting the different documents ranging from murder of one Owen Cunt, horses having sexual intercourse, Wonder Pets stuff, four kids and a dog where they did questionable things with each other, a sponge and a starfish were high on marijuana, a game where Gertrude-Sue had made him and her a family that looked way too realistic for his liking, two bunnies who kept hopping around with one of their little brothers, and multiple documents about Matthew Gray Gubler, Tom Holland, Tom Ellis, Patrick Dempsey, and Harry Styles which were all quite disturbing.

He took out his phone to call her. “Hey uh, Gert, what is this?”

“Oh well you see, the funny thing is that I accidentally sent you the wrong folder so if you could just pretend like this never happened, that would be fantastic. Okay thanks bye. I’m sending you the right one this time.” And she hung up, ready to throw herself off a cliff at her stupidity.

One thing was for sure, she would never make this mistake again.

#CA chronicles

27 notes · View notes

trenchcas · 4 years

Text

episode origins p1

i was watching moriah earlier today and was wondering what the significance of the name moriah was, so i searched it up. i’ll explain it here in this. i wanted to learn which episodes have titles derived from pop culture, literature, etc. so i put together this list. it’s not complete, feel free to reblog with more!

why did i waste hours on my life on this, you ask? i don’t know.

season 1

pilot: obviously, all the first episodes of shows are called pilots. nothing new here.

wendigo: they’re fighting a wendigo

dead in the water: the phrase means “unable to function, move”.

phantom traveler: the name of the demon they’re fighting

bloody mary: based off the legend

skin: shapeshifters, also there might be a meta about how it’s a metaphor for dean

hook man: they’re fighting a hook man

bugs: bugs

home: they go home

asylum: they go to an asylum

scarecrow: scarecrow

faith: the concept of god first comes into play here, i thought that was pretty interesting. that’s why it’s called faith, duh. dean + faith is explored.

route 666: racist truck yes

nightmare: sam’s visions

the benders: i think it’s based off of the bloody benders, a family of serial killers

shadow: meg’s stalkery?

hell house: it was literally a hell house

something wicked: originally chanted by WITCHES in shakespeare’s macbeth. the full line is “something wicked this way comes, open locks, whoever knocks”. obviously the shtriga is a witch and it refers to that.

provenance: painting provenances, it’s in the episode

dead man’s blood: they use dead man’s blood

salvation: being saved or protected, like the boys and john do with the family

devil’s trap: the devil gets them in a trap. and they built a giant devil’s trap too.

season two

in my time of dying: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

everybody loves a clown: based off of the gary lewis song [x]

bloodlust: i think it’s for the vampires but they were also a band in the 90′s

children shouldn’t play with dead things: based off of the 1972 movie

simon said: the whole “you do what i say” thing with andy and evil andy

no exit: it’s a song by blondie and in the episode h.h. holmes captures blondes...? am i just clowning

the usual suspects: based off of the 1995 movie

crossroad blues: based off of the robert johnson song (fave!) [x]

croatoan: i like this one. okay, so you guys probably know about the whole roanoke/croatoan thing in the 1600′s. so there’s a theory that the settlers were wiped out by a disease (similar to this town). also, the town would disappear off of the map.

hunted: gordon hunted sam

playthings: dolls, but the little girl was the grandma’s sisters plaything

nightshifter: a shifter in the night

houses of the holy: based off of the led zeppelin song and album [x]

born under a bad sign: based off of this song [x] there are a bunch of others including jimi hendrix but...?

tall tales: yeah i think this one is self explanatory

roadkill: someone got killed on the road

heart: werewolf heart but also how sam gave his heart to madison aww also there’s a band called heart

hollywood babylon: based off of the book by the same name

folsom prison blues: based off of the johnny cash song!! [x]

what is and what should never be: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

all hell breaks loose: yes it did

season three

the magnificent seven: based off of the pretty famous western go watch

the kids are alright: based off of the who song [x]

bad day at black rock: based off of the 1955 movie

sin city: there’s a bunch of songs but the city was sinning so

bedtime stories: they were bedtime stories

red sky at morning: the full phrase is “red sky at morning, sailors take warning”. with the theme of this ep it fits pretty well.

fresh blood: fresh blood yes

a very supernatural christmas: i’m not sure. i think it’s based off of a christmas album?

malleus maleficarum: a 1400′s book of witches. latin for “hammer of the witches”.

dream a little dream of me: i love this song! based off this: [x]

mystery spot: mystery spot

jus in bello: i can’t really explain it but here [x]

ghostfacers: g h o s t f a c e r s

long-distance call: long distance call

time is on my side: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

no rest for the wicked: a biblical quote that means “evildoers will face eternal punishment”. also, “one’s work never ceases”.

season four

lazarus rising: in the bible, lazarus is the righteous man, which makes dean the righteous man. and he rises. so.

are you there, god? it’s me, dean winchester: based off of the judy blume book (maybe?), are you there, god? it’s me, margaret.

in the beginning: they go back in time

metamorphosis: with the rugaru but also sammeh

monster movie: monsters and movies

yellow fever: referring to the disease i think, but also there are a few songs

it’s the great pumpkin, sam winchester: based off of it’s the great pumpkin, charlie brown.

wishful thinking: yeah

i know what you did last summer: dean + hell, sam + ruby. is it based off of the shawn mendes song? i don’t think it is because this came out way before the song.

heaven and hell: opposite sides meet, dean’s hell experiences.

family remains: there are remains

criss angel is a douche bag: idk?

after school special: based off of the abc program? i think?

sex and violence: there was a lot of sex. and violence.

death takes a holiday: death took a holiday

on the head of a pin: i’m not sure but this article is interesting, maybe related. probably related. [x]

it’s a terrible life: based off of it’s a wonderful life? i love that movie btw

the monster at the end of this book: ughhh! yes!!! first of all there’s a sesame street book by the same title. also, chuck actually was the monster at the end of the book! that’s crazy. insane.

jump the shark: “(of a television series or movie) reach a point at which far-fetched events are included merely for the sake of novelty, indicative of a decline in quality.“ probably the whole long lost brother thing.

the rapture: a belief that christians will rise to “meet the lord in the air”. kinda like jimmy does.

when the levee breaks: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

lucifer rising: lucifer rose

season five

sympathy for the devil: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

good god, y’all!: cas goes to find god

free to be you and me: a marlo thomas album and the brothers split up

the end: yeah it’s the end

fallen idols: i think we get it

i believe the children are our future: a lyric from a whitney houston song

the curious case of dean winchester: based off of the short story, the curious case of benjamin button.

changing channels: channels were changed. the end.

the real ghostbusters: based on the 1985 animation

abandon all hope: the full phrase is “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” and that pretty much sums up this episode.

sam, interrupted: i’m not sure?

swap meat: meats were SWAPPED.

the song remains the same: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

my bloody valentine: based on jensen’s movie. but also the band?

dead men don’t wear plaid: based on the 1982 movie

dark side of the moon: a pink floyd album

99 problems: that one jayz song whatever

point of no return: a 1993 movie but also the poto song hehe

hammer of the gods: based off of the 1985 book i think? it’s about led zeppelin so probably yeah.

the devil you know: means that it’s better to deal with a situation you understand than one you don’t.

two minutes to midnight: this phrase is commonly used as a countdown to a global catastrophe (i.e. the fucking apocalypse)

swan song: someone’s final performance before retirement (i think this is about both brothers because it’s sam last battle and dean’s last fight before living with lisa)

season six

exile on main st.: based off of the rolling stones album [x]

two and a half men: it was a sitcom? but idk if that’s where it’s from

the third man: based off of the 1949 noir thriller? maybe? but there were also three men so idrk

weekend at bobby’s: it was a weekend at bobbys

live free or twi-hard: based off of twilight and that bruce willis movie that i watched once way back when

you can’t handle the truth: truth goddess. soulless sam gets exposed ig

family matters: based off of the 1989 sitcom? maybe

all dogs go to heaven: based off of the 1989 movie? probably

clap your hands if you believe: i think this is an original title idk

caged heat: based off of the 1974 movie i think

appointment in samarra: probably based off of the 1934 novel of the same name

like a virgin: based off of the madonna song [x]

unforgiven: sam does unforgiven things

mannequin 3: the reckoning: not sure

the french mistake: just... just read this link [x]

and then there were none: based off of the agatha christie novel of the same name

my heart will go on: y’all all know what’s up [x]

frontierland: they went to yeehaw town

mommy dearest: based on the 1981 film? maybe?

the man who would be king: based off of the 1888 novel by rudyard kipling

let it bleed: based off of the rolling stones album/song [x]

the man who knew too much: shares a name with the 1956 film

season seven

meet the new boss: they met the new boss idk

hello, cruel world: sad sam

the girl next door: there’s a 2004 romcom with the same name

defending your life: a 1991 romcom! wow!

shut up, dr. phil: sam and dean became philanthropists idk

slash fiction: hahahahaha i think we know what it means but wHY is it called that?

the mentalists: they met a bunch of magic people wow!

season 7, time for a wedding!: more like season 7, time for a slightly r*pey episode and GARTH!

how to win friends and influence monsters: based off of the 1936 book how to win friends and influence people

death’s door: they were at death’s door idk

adventures in babysitting: based off of the 1987 movie by the same name

time after time after time: based off of the cyndi lauper song? [x]

the slice girls: prolly based off of the spice girls idk

plucky pennywhistle’s magic menagerie: yeah idk

repo man: it’s a 1984 film too

out with the old: they were fucking around with antiques

the born-again identity: obviously based off of the bourne identity which i haven’t seen in forever

party on, garth: hahaha

of grave importance: it was very important

the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo: probably based off of the movie/book the girl with the dragon tattoo.

reading is fundamental: reading is fundamental. go read a book.

there will be blood: there was blood

survival of the fittest: everybody fought idk

okay i’m gonna stop here for this one because i’m tired asf and i’ll do part 2 later

8 notes · View notes

spideyswebhead · 4 years

Text

Loose Screw (Arthur Morgan X OC)

I don’t know why since seeing The Devil All The Time trailer I’ve been thinking of Red Dead Redemption 2 again, maybe it’s because I saw someone mention that was Tom’s “YeeHaw” voice. But anyway, Arthur and Emmaline are on my mind again. So enjoy this one-shot with these two babies.

Also this is a first with writing this type of scene, so be gentle on me for it!

Summary: Emmaline tries to talk to Arthur about Dutch plans.

Word Count: 2,224 (This became longer than I intended)

Warnings: Murder -♡- means it started and when it’s over if you need to skip. And slight spoilers to chapter 3 and 4

(1st gif by @river-the-fox and 2nd is @whitewolfofwinterfell)

Arthur burst through the door of Angelo Bronte bedroom most likely. Instantly raising his gun to kill the guard who had been hiding behind the bed, but fell to the ground with a bullet wound in their head before they could do anything to defend their boss. “John! In here!” Arthur calls for Marston.

Bronte raised up from the bathtub which turned out to be where the lizard was hiding, aiming his gun at the two men but found he had no ammo left. Cursing in Italian that Arthur didn’t understand - nor cared to understand - and in panic threw his gun. Hitting John square in the face.

“AH! Goddammit!” John yelps in pain from the impact, his hand flying to his face.

Arthur probably would’ve laughed at the scene of John being hit in the face with a gun, but he was focused on getting Bronte. Who pleaded with the two men as he stepped out of the bath with his hands raised.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, friend, I... no, name your price! Name your price, every man has a price, eh?”

John had recovered from the blow of Bronte’s gun and advanced to the man before clocking Bronte in the face, knocking him out cold. “Should we kill him?” John asks Arthur, staring at Angelo Bronte with disgust.

“Nah, let’s take him to Dutch.” Arthur told him as he shouldered his rifle.

“You carry him. I ain’t touching this piece of shit.”

Arthur nodded wordlessly, walking to the unconscious man, feeling his pocket and coming up with $155, he hummed appreciatively at the find and would put it in the camp funds box once they return to camp and pocketed the money before he picked up the lizard. “I think Dutch wants to have a little chat, Mr. Bronte.”

Arthur could hear the whistle of the law coming to answer to their invasion “Shit.” John mutters.

“C’mon, Morgan! We’re getting the hell out of here!” Bill exclaims.

-♡-

Dutch woke up Bronte who looked at all the men in the boat looking ready to kill him, but let their leader speak to him before they would do anything. “Hey, big guy. We gonna ransom you or what?” Dutch said to him.

“You’re pathetic.” Bronte says, sliding further up the boat, not looking threatened or scared in the least despite the Van der Linde gang kidnapping him easily.

“Oh. I am?” Dutch challenged. “Cause from where I’m sitting...” He sat up straighter so Bronte could get a good look at all the murderous men holding their guns firmly. “You’re the one deserving of pity, my friend. All your men, all your money, it weren’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins.”

“You are nothing.” Bronte hissed. “You do nothing, you mean nothing, you stand for nothing. Me? I run a city and when the law catch up to you, you will die of nothing. I am this country! you...you...you are what this country is running from!”

Dutch had a stoned look on his face as he spoke with such a calm tone it would’ve sent a normal man into begging for forgiveness. “I possess things you will never understand.”

“You don’t even possess your own men! A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free!” Bronte promises and looked at all the men who didn’t move a muscle at Bronte’s promise, years of loyalty to Dutch and faith in him over weighing Bronte’s broken promise.

“What are you going to say now?” Dutch says in a taunting tone as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Bronte seemed loss of threats and broken promises to get him out of this situation like any other, his men dead at his house and law no where for them to find him. “They are even bigger fools than you. No doubt, the law will find you, already the dogs are on their way.”

“Oh yeah?” Dutch taunts, sitting up as he advances on their prisoner. “Oh, you’re right. You are so right” Dutch grips his shoulder and pushes him close to the edge of the boat. “They are good at smelling filth, huh? So filth has got to be disposed of!” He dunks the lizard into the filthy swamp.

Arthur and the others stand in the boat as Dutch forces Bronte’s head to stay under the water, a determined look on Dutch’s face, Bronte yelling as he tries to fight their leader’s strength to get some air in his screaming lungs. Arthur stood there in surprise on Dutch’s actions, never seeing hims react in such a way as he yells at the drowning man. This wasn’t the way Arthur was taught from Hosea and even Dutch.

Revenge is a fools game.

“Your friends the Pinkertons gonna come and rescue you? You repulsive little maggot! You call them now, you call them!”

Dutch force Bronte to keep under until his thrashing body eventually settled and stopped moving. Dutch lets him go and stands up, seeing a alligator there waiting for one of the men to jump in to get their snack. Dutch without a beat kicks Bronte’s body into the lake.

“Jesus.” John breaths, the first to speak as the Alligator eats up Angelo Bronte. “What part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddamn alligator, Dutch?”

“The part that covers weakness.”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well I do! It ain’t nice, I know it!” Dutch says as he steps off the boat onto the peer where Thomas had stopped the boat. “But it’s either us, or him! I figured it might as well be him.”

Dutch walks away to join the other men who go to get on their horses. Arthur and John step off together slowly and look at area where Bronte disappeared. A sick feeling in the pit of Arthur’s stomach.

Revenge is a fools game.

-♡-

Emmaline noticed Arthur didn’t return last night when all the men eventually did when Dutch finally got his revenge on Angelo Bronte, she didn’t know what happened but with the way Lenny and John acted it didn’t seem good.

“John, what happened?” Emmaline said as Lenny went to his tent, John coming up the porch of Shady Belle. John puffs out a sigh and plops into the chair that someone set on the porch at some point. Emmaline took the other to listen to John in case he would talk.

John took a second to double check Dutch wasn’t there so he wouldn’t interrupt and told the nurse of their camp of what happened with Angelo Bronte. Emmaline listened intently and didn’t say anything for a while as she processed the actions of Dutch Van der Linde tonight.

It wasn’t like they haven’t done brutal things in the past, murdering gang members, robbing banks, shooting up half a town in Rhodes before killing that old hag Braithwaite inbred sons before casting her manor on fire cause she kidnapped Jack and sold him to Angelo Bronte. The rage of the Van Der Linde Gang was vicious, but the way Dutch acted wasn’t the normal Dutch. He always talked about revenge being a fools game.

“It wasn’t right.” John said, scratching his chin. “Bronte is a bad man, but nobody deserves to be fed to a damn alligator.”

“No, you’re right.” she agreed. It was silent between her and John for a second before she spoke again. “Where’s Arthur? He should have returned by now.”

John just shrugged. “Don’t know, he might be taking care of something or laying low.” He tells her before patting her on the shoulder in a brotherly manner for getting up and heading into the house to probably get some sleep with his family. Emmaline stayed out to try and wait for Arthur, smoking a cigarette as she waited, but after she was done with it, putting it out with her boot, she returned inside the house.

She made her way up the stairs and went into the tiny room her and Arthur were given. She stripped down to her undergarments, stuffing her clothing in the trunk where their clothes were together, blowing out the candles before she snuggled into the rough cot. Slipping into a dreamless sleep.

Emmaline woke up when she heard rustling and she turned around from facing the wall to see Arthur finishing getting dressed, finishing up buttoning his black and red vest. Must’ve came to bed at some point in the night? She watched silently as he turned to the table where he had a map sprawled. His hat laying on the table next to the map. There was a streaming light of the sun rays into the tiny room from the early morning - Arthur always a morning person and up before Emmaline - the golden glow casting over her lover that somehow made him more handsome. She took a second to appreciate the view before she spoke. “Mornin’”

Arthur looks over to the woman once she spoke to him in a sleepy tone. “Mornin’” He returns.”Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘s okay.” She said, sitting up, holding the blanket against her as she sat up in the bed. Arthur had returned to looking at his map, his pencil in hand. “John told me what happened with Bronte.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. Arthur... Are you okay?”

“’m fine.”

Emmaline pursed her lips at that response, not believing him at all that he was ‘fine’ after seeing Dutch murder a man. “John seemed bothered by it and you didn’t return until late.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Arthur, can we please talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? Bronte is dead.” Arthur says, keeping his gaze on that damn map. “Nothing there to discuss.”

“Just- can we please?” Emmaline tries again.

Arthur sighed as he shifted his feet, turning to his lover but avoiding her gaze as he seemed to stare into the corner of the tiny room instead of the half-dressed woman. He didn’t say anything. “Arthur, it wasn’t right for him to take his life like that and for that reason.” She bites her lip as she chooses her words carefully here. “Are you sure Dutch is right about this Tahiti thing?”

“What?” He spoke, now his blue eyes landing on her instantly from her words.

Emmaline had only been with the gang for two years and had listened to Dutch spoke about everything from keeping faith, the promise land of Tahiti where they could be free from everything, one more big robbery and they’ll be on their way to getting a boat to Tahiti and starting their life over. After listening to the same thing over and over and feeling like they were getting no closer to getting to this freedom he was speaking of, she was starting to question Dutch’s motives. But nobody dare question this grand plan of Dutch Van der Linde, but Emmaline was getting tired of this false promises and as she thought about Dutch’s plans of becoming farmers in Tahiti...it had a lot of loopholes and unrealistic dreams.

But also knowing her lover, who has had 20 years loyalty to Dutch, it was hard to talk about the flaws of Dutch and she had to choose her words carefully when talking about this.

“Killing Bronte just so we can rob this bank and than 2 months later become farmers in Tahiti? For 15-20 people to start a new life? It just...it seems unrealistic for this world now.” She said. “You always told us how revenge wasn’t a way to do things and it seems to me Dutch is believing that idea more.” Emmaline says, keeping her gaze on Arthur’s and not daring to look away. “Killing Bronte just seemed...reckless and could make this job bank job go really bad.”

“It’s just one more job and we’ll be out of here, Dutch knows what he’s doin’“

“Are you sure? Getting in the middle of a family feud, for what? Some rumor of gold?”

“It would’ve helped!”

“And what did it do? We’re always running cause of some plan Dutch had that backfires in our face, Arthur!” Emmaline argues. “Now he’s killed a man in cold blood and cause so much more trouble! I’m tired of running!”

“Dutch had to do what he needed for all of us to get us the money!” Arthur says, fuming at the thought that these past 20 years were for nothing.

“And this is the way to do it? Get the money to go to Tahiti that he doesn’t even know about! You heard him, he heard some one talk about it once and that’s it!”

“I’m not going to talk about this.” Arthur huffs, grabbing his hat and placing it on his head harshly and moving to leave the room.

“Arthur!” Emmaline calls for him. “You can’t just walk away!” She gets up, wrapping the blanket around her to conceal how undressed she is. Arthur ignored her as he went down those stairs. She glared at his hat, he was impossible to talk to about any of this. She heard a door shut and turned to see Dutch looking at her and narrowed his eyes.

They stare at each other for a second before Emmaline goes back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

#arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption chapter 4 #arthur morgan one shot #emmaline nielson #red dead redemption oc #red dead redemption original character #angst i guess

7 notes · View notes

victoodles · 5 years

Text

Fleur Sauvage

yeehaws but softly. back again, read it on AO3 and i hope you enjoy

Arthur is uncomfortable.

The sleeves of his stupid tuxedo are too tight and the cotton of his stupid bowtie is too itchy against his neck. But mostly, it’s because he’s surrounded on all sides by pompous displays of how the other half live.

Arthur has been encircled by wolves before, ravenous beasts of varying shapes and sizes. Unfortunately this time around he can’t shoot his way through the pack. If he had a say in the matter, he would take fangs and claws over coiffed hair and expensive suits any day of the week.

But he doesn’t. He rarely does, so here he stays.

The air is heavy with cigar smoke and foreign chatter. Arthur always presumed other languages would have an essence of beauty to them. Though as he overhears these gentlemen prattle on, cackling at their own self-proclaimed witticisms, he finds it to be extremely grating. Dutch insists though, as he is prone to do, that they continue to meet with the true master of Saint Denis.

Angelo Bronte.

A man with all the charm of a cottonmouth snake and twice as deadly. Every word that falls from his mouth is dripping with so much venom, Arthur is surprised listening to him hasn’t been fatal. Among those words is the promise of money; a key to freedom from the shackles of a modern word.

Now Arthur is the one to insist that Dutch reconsider his faith in this “parasite", as Arthur so fondly described. Dutch disregards it, telling him that home is just “one more score” out of reach. Arthur thinks that these grandiose fantasies are going to get them in over their heads more so then they already are. Hosea shares the sentiment but their unconditional loyalty has them tethered to this plan for the time being.

Angelo cackles from his perch on the manor’s balcony. He finds himself (both literally and figuratively) above the party-goers and that seems to fill him with malicious glee. They are merely bugs under his expensive shoes, and he’ll go well out of his way to stomp on them.

He sorts through the crowd one by one, expressing his contempt and expansive knowledge of Saint Denis’ denizens. Each one has a filthy secret that Angelo pours forth like fine wine. A jeer follows every name until his gaze falls upon a certain young lady, arm secured around Hosea’s.

“And who is this? I’ve never seen her before,” Angelo turns to his men with a smirk, “I’d certainly remember one so pretty.” Arthur tracks Angelo’s leering gaze to you, and his ire is sparked like flint. Taking a step forward to act, he aims to silence this lecherous cretin permanently.

Unfortunately, he is promptly stopped by Dutch’s hand, a silent plea to contain himself. It’s a small one and Dutch hopes Angelo doesn’t notice, they’re already on thin enough ice. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Is she one of yours?” It’s posed as a question but Dutch knows he expects an answer - the right answer.

“Yes,” he answers immediately, “she’s like a daughter to me.” Dutch is careful not to give out too much information but still emphasizes you are no part of their meeting. “Just wanted to show her a good time away from the debauchery of our lifestyle. We think she deserved it, didn’t we Arthur?”

Every muscle in Arthur’s body is wound tight, ready to fight if you’re put in Angelo’s crosshairs. He clenches his jaw and manages to grit out an affirmation.

Another smirk spreads across Angelo’s lips. “Is that right?” He says something in Italian to his men, most likely a derogatory comment, before turning his attention back to the outlaws.

“It’s quite a crime to keep a flower like that out of reach. Such a beauty should,” he pauses to take another drag of his cigar, licking his lips lasciviously afterwords, “be enjoyed by all.”

Angelo seems to revel in the heat of Arthur’s rage; he’s garnered what you mean to him by reactions alone. Arthur’s trigger finger is suddenly restless; he wishes he had the sense to conceal a weapon. Dutch speaks again before Arthur sets this whole party ablaze.

“We shall keep that in mind, Signore Bronte. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Dutch begins to lead Arthur back inside.

“Yes, yes go! Enjoy, my friends!” He says with a dismissive wave before he returns to his own festivities. Angelo wears a mask of gracious host but Arthur can see the cracks in it, revealing the true monster underneath.

That doesn’t matter right now though. Arthur needs to get back to you.

As the two of them head back downstairs (Arthur a little more briskly in contrast) Arthur starts up with Dutch. “I told you bringing her along was a bad idea,” he growls. It’s clear Dutch doesn’t have the patience to placate Arthur right now.

“And I told you that we needed her! She still can speak their pretentious language. Discover leads that we couldn’t with our “barbaric” intellects.” Dutch says sardonically, paired with a roll of his eyes.

“Dutch,” Arthur warns but is once again interrupted.

“I will keep her safe, son. As I have done for all of us.” Dutch smiles fondly then. “You’ve got yourself quite a woman there, a true sheep in wolf’s clothing. I gather she won’t need much assistance from either of us.”

Arthur is momentarily rendered speechless. It was true, you were beyond capable of fending for yourself. But he still did not want to take any chances.

A man who held the world in the palm of his hand? What could someone with that type of power do to a woman closely associated with a (potential) enemy gang?

Arthur didn’t think himself overly imaginative but he could picture possible outcomes vividly. Too vividly.

One of many servants opened the main doors before those thoughts could evolve into more grotesque nightmares. Arthur is cruelly reminded of the events transpiring just beyond. However his racing mind is thankful for the distraction. He finds on the other side a dapper Hosea and Bill, looking even more miserable than himself.

But no you.

Arthur opens his mouth to inquire and Hosea has the answer before he can ask. It seems everyone’s in the habit of cutting Arthur off tonight.

Hosea tilts his head towards the courtyard. “Down there. She’s getting a head start on the mingling,” he informs his frantic son. Arthur’s feet carry him so fast he barely catches Dutch’s request to stay out of trouble. Wishful thinking but he’ll try his best regardless.

To Arthur, you stand out amongst the throng of people, clear as day. Your pink dress (you tell him it’s peach) compliments you completely. From the way it hugs your waist to the roses embroidered along the skirts. How fitting of a design, a wild rose with her own kind.

An array of golden hair pins - courtesy of Miss Grimshaw’s heydey - keep your complicated braid in place. They shine like stars in the lamplight, twinkling faintly with every turn of your head. Your decolletage is bare of any jewelry, save for some cream colored lace along the sleeves of your gown. Arthur is oddly more distracted, eyeing the exposed skin hungrily.

Your beauty doesn’t hold a candle to any of the satin clad or feathered fan socialites. You are elegance personified and he aims to immortalize that within the confines of his journal later.

Arthur makes his way forward, drawn to you as he often finds is the case. Obstacles in the form of other guests stand in his way and he wades through them. He doesn’t mean to push and shove; he is quite colossal when next to these dainty women. An apology comes in the form of a flute of champagne as to not stir up any more trouble before he presses onward.

Your company is being enjoyed by the mayor himself and his entourage. The gentlemen are enraptured by whatever it is you’re regaling them with. Hanging onto every pretty word and starring at you like you hung the moon. Arthur finds himself in the same position more often than not.

Laughter, airy and delicate, tugs at Arthur’s heart as he approaches. It envelops him; it’s a warmth he still isn’t accustomed to, especially in his line of work. But you coax him into it, and he learns his hands are still capable of gentleness.

You notice Arthur, a grin playing on your lips, and you stop mid-sentence to acknowledge him.

“Oh Tacitus, my darling,” You coo, waltzing up and wrapping your arms snugly around Arthur’s neck. He fights to contain his guffaw at your act: the high society primadonna. It’s your favorite role to play whenever Hosea needs you for a swindle. And you play it exceptionally well.

A kiss is placed on his cheek, tantalizingly close to the corner of his lips. It’s a promise of more to come.

The mayor and his colleagues chuckle at this impromptu display of affection. “It seems your new bride is quite taken with you. What a shame for us, eh gentlemen?” The mayor asks, feigning disappointment which earns him a wave of laughter. You titter yourself, finding a new place around Arthur’s arm this time.

Arthur looks at you bemused, but humored. You take that as your cue to subtly fill him in on your little game. You smile affectionately at Arthur before turning attention back to the mayor. “I’m terribly sorry my good men, but my heart utterly belongs to my Tacitus,” you keen, dramatically casting a hand over your chest. If he wasn’t an actor in this play, Arthur would quite enjoy watching the performance.

"Mon coeur, it is broken!” The mayor jests and you playfully swat at his hand.

“Ne sois pas bête!” You tease back.

This French tit for tat goes right over Arthur’s head but he does understand something. Dutch was absolutely right in bringing you along. Not even an hour later and you already have a major city official wrapped around your finger. Color Arthur impressed (and slightly jealous). But then he remembers he is your “husband” after all, and the petty emotions are assuaged.

“And,” the mayor finally turns his focus to Arthur, “whose pleasure is it to have this delight of a woman for a wife?” Arthur sheds his skin of an outlaw and adapts, following your lead.

“Good evening,” he says smoothly, extending a hand out. “Tacitus Gilgore.” The mayor seems pleased at the gesture and eagerly shakes Arthur’s hand. You’re beaming at Arthur’s side at the interaction.

“Well it certainly is a pleasure Mister Gilgore. Henri Lemieux, mayor of this fine city.” There’s a hint of disgust in his words; Arthur doesn’t blame him. Henri gestures to his surrounding accompaniment and begins to introduce them. Arthur tunes it out - they don’t matter. Finding the mayor was his goal, not these buffoons.

Though his attention does perk up at the mention of a familiar name. “And this is Monsieur Evelyn Miller.”

“Like the writer?” Arthur inquires, earning another giggle from you.

“Yes darling,” you chirp enthusiastically. “He wrote all those books your father positively adored.” Your conversation takes a turn. “Tacitus is the sole inheritor of his father’s oil company,” you inform with a coy smile. A few of the men raise their eyebrows, impressed. The mayor included.

“Ah an oil proprietor?” Henri inquires. “Well, congratulations are in order. A beautiful wife and a flourishing business? You sir, are a very lucky man.” He reaches out and takes Arthur’s hand firmly in his.

“I look forward to speaking more with you, Monsieur Gilgore. But for now,” he relinquishes his hold on Arthur, “why don’t you and your young bride enjoy yourselves?”

Arthur places his now free hand on the small of your back. The satin feels soft under his calloused palms but he yearns more for skin to skin contact. Time and place, unfortunately.

“I think we will. Thank you for your hospitality, good sir.” Arthur takes his leave with a tip of his head before he escorts you away from the crowds. He thinks he deserves some semblance of peace for now. While the excess of unwanted company isn’t ideal, as long as you’re there he feels calm.

An impressive gazebo at the apex of the courtyard is devoid of any guests. It seems the majority of them strive to be in the limelight of this affair for reasons Arthur can’t seem to care about. Regardless, he is grateful for the temporary isolation as he leads you there.

The crowd begins to progressively wane much to Arthur's delight. A few still linger and you placate them with your arsenal of bonjour's and merci's. Once again Arthur finds himself grateful for you. He's reached his "mingling" threshold for the night a long time ago. Your's on the other hand seems to have just begun as you keen and wave to every passing sir and madam. It's rather amusing and Arthur chuckles lightly.

"Another minute there and I think he woulda' handed you the key to the city," Arthur teases. It's a rare occurrence for his bark have no bite, just playful nips You welcome it eagerly.

"That would've been ideal. I could have given it to Dutch so he can sell all of Saint Denis for a few mangoes." You respond back coolly. Arthur snorts.

"Seems like a fair trade."

You nudge him for his cheekiness. "Mind your tongue, Gilgore," you jab. He concedes to your wishes (as always).

"My apologies to my lady." Arthur's inner gentleman (the one he vehemently refuses is there) is showing. You want to say something, acknowledge the sides he wants to reveal.

But now isn't the place for him to sink into that place of vulnerability. The predators here are too hungry. So you continue on as if it were a game still, keeping things lighthearted.

Placing a finger to your chin, you pretend to mull his words over. "I suppose," you begin, twirling out of his arms and swiftly dashing up the gazebo's steps. "I can forgive you," you spin around a column, "if you come sit with me for a moment?" You plop down on one of the many benches facing the river, tapping the empty space next to you.

Arthur finds your impishness endearing, but now isn't the time. There's work to be done, people to mislead, men to k-

You can practically hear the discordance in his head. "Just for a moment," you plead, hoping it will alleviate some of his tension. It does, and he wordlessly complies as he sits down with you.

While Arthur doesn't claim to be an expert on the finer things in life, he is awestruck at the view. The gazebo seems to be on its own wooden isle in the middle of the water, surrounded on all sides by flowers. Gentle waves lap at the platform and it creates a steady, lulling rhythm. Petals drift lazily along the river, continually cascading down from the gentle push of an evening breeze.

The swamp he detests is transformed into an ethereal landscape as the lanterns’ reflections sparkle on the water’s surface. It appears that the rich can even buy the better parts of nature as well. Who would’ve thought.

The two of you are settled in comfortable silence, admiring the picturesque scenery as the party’s twittering becomes mere background noise.

Arthur speaks first. “So,” he begins bashfully. In this suit, he looks as awkward as he feels. A familiar hand on his knee, while slightly flirtatious, is a kind reminder he can be himself. It’s a freedom he still has trouble getting accustomed to at times. He lets his shoulders relax, “You think yer folks are around ‘ere somewhere?” It’s a question made in jest and you answer with a dry laugh.

“My parents wish they could be invited to a mayoral affair,” you say with a scoff. “Would’ve tried to sell me off twice as young if it meant they could eat the leftovers.” Though you try to hide it, Arthur picks up on hurt in your voice.

You hear it too, and you turn your head away from him for a moment. On instinct, you look out to the shoreline and see the manor you once called home. It's the same despite the ten years that have gone by: imposing and grand. You wonder if mother and father are awake, scornfully starring over at what they have continually failed to achieve. A jovial party serving as a painful reminder. The irony makes you feel a little bit better.

Walking up to that house every day for sixteen years had instilled fear into your core. Now, it was just an ugly scar across Saint Denis. The pain wasn't permanent, but you would always remember it. You're regarding the house apathetically, not being able to bring yourself away.

Arthur notices and begins to worry. “Hey,” Arthur begins gently, tracing circles over your knuckles. His voice summons you back and you look at him expectantly, gaze tender. You render him speechless; he’s ensnared and the simple control you exude over him has his nerves singing.

Arthur manages to compose himself and finds a way to bring your smile back. “What will people think if they see my beautiful wife so upset?” Again you laugh, this time sincerely. He finds himself smiling back, "They'll say I'm a beast of a man."

Tears threaten to spill from his sincerity. You try to shoo them away. “Oh lovely Tacitus,” your accent is back full swing. “You are just the kindest husband. How in this cruel world did I find myself so blessed?” While the titles are just pretend, he’s finding himself addicted to their honied sweetness. He wants more and your lips have the power to temporarily quell his want.

Leaning closer, falling further in love.

His lips are a whisper away, practically feeling the heat of your blush radiating off you. There’s a crowd of people just beyond a few white pillars but he doubts anyone is paying them any mind. And if they do, well, Dutch didn’t specify his distaste for getting into an upper class brawl.

“I ask myself that question every day,” Arthur says reverently, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut as his places his lips against your own with a gentleness reserved for you. This is a song and dance he is pleasantly more accustomed to, moving against you effortlessly. Each pass of his lips draws a sigh from you satisfied than the last.

Inhibition rears its ugly head again once Arthur thinks he actually has the luxury to enjoy himself. He pulls back slightly, much to your dismay but you don’t pursue. Like a deer, you don’t want to startle him. Instead you wait, a patience that Arthur is grateful you provide.

Arthur almost forgot why they’re here, and loyalty has always come before his happiness. “I gotta,” he mumbles. “Gotta do something for Dutch. I-” his words fall short when you silence him with another kiss. It appears chaste, but there's a fire behind it that’s nipping at his lips as the tip of your tongue traces over them.

Your poor cowboy would deny himself everything, so long as Dutch said the word. So you took some of the weight off his already bad shoulders for him.

Arthur’s eyes go comically wide as you withdraw from him, hand sliding down between your breasts. Realization (and relief) sweeps over him when it returns with a small envelope in tow, labeled "Classified".

“What? How did you-”

“I wasn’t just talking to those old men for the caliber of their conversation,” you simper, tucking the envelope securely back into your bosom. “Managed to pilfer these documents pertaining to Cornwall off poor Monsieur Lemiux,” you purse your lips in a faux pout. Arthur continues to stare at you in awe.

You may have been planted in a gilded garden, but you had uprooted yourself, new roots digging their way deep into the forest floor. Growing thorns and blooming within the wild: free and untamed.

Wolf in sheep’s clothing indeed.

“So,” Arthur’s musing is ceased by you. Let him enjoy himself, as many this night have told him do. Yes he was on a mission, but let him have a moment to breathe. With you.

“Worry about what you ‘gotta’ do for Dutch later. But for now-” you lean in and purr against the shell of his ear, “let’s just be.”

The softness of your words is paired with a clap of man-made thunder cutting through the sky followed by a brilliant array of colors. Fireworks begin to dance across the night and gasps of wonder fill the air. The stars are met with blooms of blues, greens, and yellow to rival them. It's quite the spectacle; Arthur had never seen fireworks before. He had only heard Hosea' numerous tellings about taking Bessie to see them. The concept fascinated him; gunpowder igniting but instead of death, it brings magic.

But as they continue to burst, casting vibrant shades of gold and red across your face, Arthur thinks he’s found a new kind of magic to believe in.

#vic's fics!#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #i hate this but i did my BEST

111 notes · View notes

multifandom-garbage-compactor · 2 years

Text

Dincobb 🤝 Ineffable Husbands

Arrangements

12 notes · View notes

jesspeonwrites · 5 years

Text

Silencer AU: Part 18

So apparently there’s a car chase going on near me with confirmed gunshots. Yeehaw. In more exciting news, FLUFF TIME!!!!! (Not the kwami, boo :P)

But first, Marinette had to go on her first official date with Luka, her kinda-official boyfriend. She’d said yes, he’d said yes, but then that whole thing with Lila came up and it was impossible to see each other when Marinette was constantly being hounded by the police and reporters asking about her involvement in the whole affair. Adrien ended up driving her to and from school almost every day he could (Gabriel had said yes so he could learn more about Marinette and see if there was any truth at all to Lila’s story. As far as he could see, she was just a clutz with a pair of earrings and an eye for fashion. He’d have to bring her into the company once she was ready. A shame she was dating that musician, really… Well… he could always pair Adrien off with Kagami).

It was weird. She’d been spending exponentially more time with Adrien now that she’d decided to give Luka a chance. She wasn’t complaining, by any means! Adrien was a great friend, and he seemed a lot happier and more invested in things nowadays, but she really did want to hang out with Luka more.

And now that Lila was in the cops’ hands, she could. Most of the reporters had cleared out when Sabine threatened to sue on basis of privacy invasion of a minor.

Marinette ducked her head outside and carefully slipped out of the door. If anyone was lingering she’d make sure to get a picture of them and send it to her mother. Getting rid of anyone who could catch her as Ladybug was more than incentive.

She didn’t spot anyone on her walk to the park. Luka was hanging out on the carousel with a bunch of kids, playing his guitar and humming for them. He opened one eye as she approached and swung his feet off the second horse he’d been laying on.

“Hey pretty girl.” He murmured over the sound of the strings as she crawled onto the horse.

She blushed. “Hey.”

“Is that your girlfriend?” One of the kids yelled.

Luka blushed, suddenly wide-eyed as he looked over at Marinette. She wondered what he was going to say for a second until his eyes went all soft and he smiled. “Yeah… I guess she is.”

The stayed on the carousel for a while, Mari just listening to Luka as he played for the kids and her. Eventually they all got tired and wandered off and they could just talk.

“How ya feeling?”

“I’m alright. At least Lila’s out of our hair now. How’d your school take it?”

“Everyone mostly just laughed it off. They all knew she was lying, thanks to you.” He brushed his knuckle over her cheek.

At some point they ended up sitting on the same horse, Luka behind Marinette as he guided her hands over his guitar.

“I’m not great with music, Luka, so don’t expect anything great.” She leaned back against his chest to look up at him. He was laughing softly.

“I’m sure whatever you come up with is going to be great. Have some faith, Marinette.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “Now play something for me.”

She hummed softly, trying to think of a tune. Her fingers twitched, playing an invisible melody until she finally connected. It was just a few chords, nothing fancy like Luka could do, but it didn’t sound bad and she was honestly enjoying herself.

“Keep going. You’re doing amazing.” He voice was a gentle whisper in her ear and she shivered suddenly, not realizing how much she’d been focusing on the instrument in her hands. Luka was playing with her now, four hands on one guitar. Well, three, Mari wasn’t using her second hand, technically. The air was slowly filled with music again, and the kids came back to listen to the new song. Luka started humming in her ear again as they clambered onto the ride, pushing and squealing to get the best seats.

“HmmmmMmmM… we have company.”

Marinette wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were closed as she worked over the few strings she felt comfortable with, imagining them as threads she would weave into a fabric of music.

She looked positively heavenly, Luka decided as he watched her relax further against him. This was how he always wanted her to look, how she’d looked that first disaster of a date at the skating rink. Serene, calm, like the eye of a perfect storm. The ends of her hair curled as a light breeze wended through the park. Most of the children had calmed down too, once they were settled on the ride. One had fallen asleep on their horse.

Luka slowly ended his accompaniment and pulled out his phone, placing it in his jacket pocket with the camera and microphone sticking out. Once it was recording to his satisfaction, he started playing again.

They sat there for maybe an hour, just relaxing in the sunshine. Gradually, Marinette’s melody got more complicated. She picked up chords quickly when she heard Luka play certain combinations. When she finally stopped, it was with a jump and surprise at the changed scene around her.

“You guys should get married.” A little boy said, arms crossed over the top of his horse as he stared at them.

“Mmmm… maybe not yet.” Luka chuckled softly, slinging his guitar behind his back.

A bunch of kids complained at that. Marinette was too stunned to do anything but laugh softly as Luka defended her from the insistent pleas to have a wedding. When it was clear there wasn’t going to be a spontaneous wedding, the kids all ran off to play again.

Luka helped Mari off the carousel like a perfect gentleman. “You played beautifully Marinette.”

“How long were we sitting there?”

“Hour… hour and a half?” Luka shrugged, taking out his phone to stop the recording and check the time. “Yeah, about an hour and a half.”

“Really? I’m sorry, I totally zoned out!” Marinette bounced his wrists nervously.

“I’d stay there for a month with you.” He pulled her into a warm hug.

Her face warmed as she breathed in the smell of his cologne. “You don’t have to do that. Just tell me when I zone, Alya does it all the time!”

“Nope. Not when you’re playing like that. Can’t make me.” He teased, squeezing her until she laughed. “Now let’s get you something to eat and some lotion for your hands. They’re probably going to be sore for a little while.”

Marinette looked down at her fingers and realized they were pretty red. “Why don’t yours get like that?”

“You never noticed?” He pulled her arm out and dragged the tips of his fingers over them. “Calluses. They help me play without ripping my fingers off all the time.”

“Oh… I don’t get that with fabrics.” She turned his palm over, tracing over the calluses with interest. “Maybe I should use your pick next time.”

“You still have it?”

Marinette looked up at the tone of his voice. It was surprised, embarrassed, impressed, and oh so reverent. “Of course.”

His mouth made a little ‘o’ shape and he turned away, bright red. “Uh-um… food! Right! Food and lotion!”

Marinette chuckled softly and took his hand, leading him back to the bakery for lunch.

“Maman! We’re back!”

“Good, I just finished baking the next batch. Take them out of the oven for me while I set the table? Oh, hello Luka!” Sabine moved around the counter and kitchen like a fish through water. Luka could tell she was in her element.

“Can I do anything?”

“You can have a seat, dear, and find somewhere to put your guitar. Tom! Luka’s here!”

Tom poked his head out of the bakery and smiled. “Hello! Just finishing up some tarts in here! What’s your favorite, Luka?”

“Oh, um, strawberry, I guess!” He called back as Tom disappeared around the wall.

He heard him yell from inside the kitchen. “Darn, I’m making lemon raspberry! Honey, do we have any strawberry left from this morning?”

“Nonsense Tom, we’re not serving him anything but fresh! I have strawberry cannolis that need piping anyways.”

“Oh, really, it’s nothing Mme. Cheng, you don’t have to!” Luka held up his hands as he slid into a seat.

“On it Maman!” Marinette yelled from inside the kitchen. “And Luka, you’d better get used to it. We’re feeding you, and that’s our whooooooole business.” Marinette winked from the doorway, piping bag in hand. Luka felt his heart skip a beat. She really could make anything look great, couldn’t she? A flour covered, juice-stained apron, and she was positively radiant. Everywhere was her element.

The lunch was delicious, and the cannolis Marinette piped even better. The chatter around the table was cozy. Usually, when he went to meet someone’s parents, everything was awkward and forced. The Dupain-Chengs didn’t have that. And sure, he’d met them before whenever he and Jules stopped in for treats, but this was different. A good different.

Marinette was just glad her mom had told off Papa for the disaster that was last time. Chat Noir’s dinner was positively nightmarish, especially after the akumatization. Once lunch was over the two left again to walk around Paris. Luka wanted to stop at a music store and Marinette had heard about a new shipment of fabrics at her favorite supply store.

“What did you think?”

“Hm?” Luka glanced down at her.

“About my parents.”

“They’re great, Mari. They’ve always been great, ever since I walked in the store the first time.”

“I think they like you, too.” She laughed softly.

“I hope so. I was glued to the news when your dad got akumatized.”

She groaned. “You saw that?!”

“Mmmaaaaaaybe. There wasn’t much to see, just the giant stalk on the ground. No one could get high enough to see what was going on up there. Why, is there something I should know?” He leaned in with a very Chat-esque grin.

“Nope, nothing at all!” She pushed his nose back just like she would with Chat Noir and Luka laughed.

“Alright, alright, I won’t push. I’m just glad you were safe.”

They ducked into the music shop and Luka greeted the owner like an old friend. “Oh, this is Marinette! She’s did Jagged’s sunglasses and album cover.”

“That was you? That’s incredible, girl! I can’t believe you got to meet Jagged Stone.” He waxed poetic about how it was his dream to have Jagged in his shop one day while Luka went to the back to look at electric guitars.

“Do you play?” Marinette tuned back into the owner at the question.

“She played for an hour at the park today! She’s a natural!” Luka yelled from the back.

“Great! Interested in ever getting your own guitar?”

“I-I’m more into fashion and designing, honestly.” She stuttered, flushing from the praise. “Besides, I’m sure I could just borrow one from Luka.”

“I bet you could. You could repaint it, too, make it nice and snazzy for him. Like what you see back there, Luka?” He yelled.

“Yeah! How much is this one?” Luka held up a teal, black, and green marbled electric.

The owner squinted to get a better look at it. “For you… $180! I know you don’t need the cords and amp, so that’s the flat price for the guitar.”

“Put it on hold, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Gonna trade your old one in?”

“No way, that’s my Kitty Section guitar. This one’s for me, and me alone! And maybe Marinette if she wants.” Luka winked at her, setting the guitar down on the counter.

“I’ll keep her nice and safe for you. Got a name picked out already?”

“Nope! I’d have to hear her before that.” Luka ran a hand gently over the strings. “I’m sure it’ll come to me. Thanks!”

“Have fun, kids!” The owner called as they left.

“He seemed really nice.”

“He’s like a father to me.” Luka grinned, turning back to wave. “I’ve been going there ever since I was… five? I think? I had a toy ukulele and he let me try an acoustic, and I was sold.”

They spent well over three hours in the craft store while Marinette catalogued every new fabric, complete with notes and bar code numbers, so she could find and order them if she ever needed one for a project. Luka learned a lot about different textures and what they were good for. She even started quizzing him when she noticed the way he would scrunch fabrics together to see how they moved.

It was early evening when they finally left the craft store. Luka walked her all the way home and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before heading back to the boat himself.

“Tikki, that was a great date!”

“It was incredible, Marinette! You play beautifully!”

“You think so?”

“Yep! With practice, I bet you could even join Kitty Section on stage!”

“I’m content with being their costume designer.”

Both girls laughed.

#lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #tikki #lila rossi #sabine cheng #tom dupain #silencer #silencer au #soft time!!#marinette's a renaissance girl #she knows fashion and music and math and being a hero and wait that last one's not renaissance #hehehe #i wrote all this today because what i originally had planned i realized i didn't have enough info for

92 notes · View notes

pathogenic · 4 years

Text

VTMB OC Meme

Yeehaw

🌹 What clan do they belong to and how do they feel about them?

Haydes: Clan Gangrel, specifically the City Gangrel Bloodlines. She is largely indifferent to the main clan since her bloodline makes her more likely to form packs while Gangrel standard is more comprised of loners. She does like somethings like the storyteller traditions.

Anabell: Clan Brujah, and she isn’t exactly fond of the stereotypical Brujah. She enjoys the company of Idealist Camarilla Brujah, but the rabble annoy the shit out of her.

🎹 Do they have any special talents or skills?

Haydes: She is a programmer by trade, but beyond that, she is pretty decent at the fiber arts like sewing and crochet

Anabell: As a priest, she does a lot of public speaking, so she is pretty good at speeches and getting her point across, she also is fairly proficient with a guitar, but she hasn’t played since she was in her 20s.

🌃 Where are they from and where do they live now?

Haydes: She is from southern Arizona, but now she lives in Los Angeles, but she does move around a lot.

Anabell: She is from Austin, Texas, but has since moved and lived in Houston, Texas for the past 30 years or so.

💢 What is their moral alignment?

Haydes: Even as far as vampires go, she tends to fall more on the Chaotic Neutral scale of things, even sometimes dipping her toe into the more Evil side.

Anabell: Barring recent events in my roleplay group, Anabell is typically somewhere on the Neutral scale, sometimes being more Neutral Good. Recent events certainly make her seem real evil though!

👯‍♀️ Do they have any notable allies/friends?

Haydes: Smiling Jack and Damsel about the extent of her friends since she doesn’t trust easy and Kindred don’t exactly give her much reason to. Beyond that, she allies herself with the Anarch Movement and provides aid for anyone under that banner

Anabell: She runs with a coterie comprised of about 6 individuals, including herself. Outside of that, she has another Priest she is? was? friends with, but he is Kine. She is also rather fond of a Malkvian Justicar… And of course, in her current campaign, she befriended a Templar. As you do.

💘 Do they have a romantic interest?

Haydes: Yep! Her and Jack are together both for my own happiness, but technically in my group as well!

Anabell: She has a big ol’ crush, but she hasn’t done anything with it and it is killing me. She’s shy about her affections.

🏴 What are their allegiances? (Camarilla/Anarch/Independent/etc)

Haydes: Anarch

Anabell: Camarilla

🧛‍♀️ Do they have any preference regarding who they feed on/how they feed?

Haydes: Nope! She’s an opportunist, so human and animals alike are feeding grounds for her. Normally she ends up feeding on truckers and bikers when she is on the road.

Anabell: Yes, she prefers to feed from her flock, but she will not feed from other members of the cloth. She prefers to feed under the disguise of a confession.

⌛ When and how were they turned?

Haydes: She was turned sometime in the 80s, likely around 81 or 82. It was a pretty violent affair.

Anabell: Anabell was embrace 1975 under a lie given to her by her sire. She was told that she would be given something that would help spread her message and be able to touch more lives. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wasn't what she expected.

🤝 What is their relationship with their sire like?

Haydes: She plain killed the man.

Anabell: Bad. Her sire embraced her because she had True Faith and she was trying to push it along since she got impatient waiting for Anabell’s powers to grow. Instead of growing, however, Anabell lost them completely once she learned what happened, so her sire abandoned her.

🖤 How do they feel about being turned? (How did they adjust? Do they feel differently now than they did when they were first turned?)

Haydes: Mixed bag. On the one hand, she loves that she doesn’t have to worry about a lot of shit like her stomach issues, but on the other, she was enjoying her life. She misses being a scientist and she really regrets never making it to being a professor.

Anabell: BAD. She’s a priest! And now she is damned! How do you cope with that?

💉 Have they sired anyone? If so - why, how and did they claim their childe?

Neither have sired.

👷🏻‍♂️ What are their opinions on mortals?

Haydes: Low. They’re a nosey lot and they tend to get in the way. She also loathes hiding herself from them.

Anabell: Warm, she still preaches and tries to help when she can. Her humanity isn’t great, but she wants to do better.

👑 What is their opinion on the Camarilla?

Haydes: She thinks they’re a goddamn joke. They remind her of rich pompous assholes sitting around and drinking wine, though this is likely because she always thinks of the high clans first and the Ivory Tower just brings that kind of imagery in mind.

Anabell: The lesser of evils. The Camarilla is not perfect, but they are the best they got for dealing with modern threats and to keep humanity safe from more out of control vampires.

💥 The Anarchs?

Haydes: It’s the only thing that makes sense to her! To her, they basically function on the idea of live and let live, which she likes a lot. She doesn’t want anyone to tell her how to live her life. If she ends up getting herself killed because of her nature, then that’s her choice.

Anabell: They’re a disorganized lot that will never be satisfied in her eyes. If they get what they want, then they just continue onto the next issue and the next and the next. She thinks eventually they will even out and see that this is the way things have to be.

🧥 The Sabbat?

Both loathe the Sabbat to be perfectly honest.

💞 Do they have any opinions on [particular clan]?

Pass since it requires specific input.

⛪ Do they practice or believe in a religion? (Kindred or mortal)

Haydes: Nope! She doesn’t like religion much in life or in death.

Anabell: Yes, she is an Anglican priest and she still believes.

🌎 Do they try to retain any part of their humanity?

Haydes: She’s working on it since her humanity is real bad. She likes the idea of love and having cherished friends, so she’s working back to reform relationships.

Anabell: She had a fall from grace, but she really wants to be as human as she can be, so she works on reconnecting with humans and being more, well, understanding towards their issues.

🚫 Have they ever broken one of the Traditions? (This is includes the Masquerade)

Haydes: YEAH. Hospitality and Destruction are her favorite to smash. She ain’t gonna introduce herself for shit and she will kill Kindred who are a problem.

Anabell: Thankfully no. She’s a good Cammie Girl.

3 notes · View notes

readbythestarlight · 5 years

Text

c2e70

I miss Ashley :(((((

Sam has way too many props in front of him I’m nervous

Matt having to be like "Sam please don’t gloss over this the feature is actually really cool"

Oh man I wish Liam was actually in the room for this

Takiesin losing it at Sam’s ads is always my favorite part

[[MORE]]

I love how well Matt and the others handle the fandom drama. Just a reminder to love each other and a sort of stern look. No big grandstanding speeches or anything, just a reminder that we are a fandom who should be spreading love.

I don’t like that "seemingly" destroyed...

They need to message Yeza too because he’s just at home waiting

They should 100% have written this message before she sent it

YES tell her where you are right now

Cad’s right don’t act like you did anything wrong

I really think they should go back, regroup, maybe get some advice or some help

Idk man I know Cad sometimes sees the best in people and wants to trust them and maybe he’s wrong but I really think they should go back. They need help. They are so in over their head.

Frumpkin the therapy cat

"I don’t mean to raise my voice" Cad says while talking only moderately louder than usual

Cad’s so appaled by the fact that none of them know how to have any kind of faith

I don’t understand Fjord’s insistance that they are responsible

Oban would have done it anyway. This way they KNOW it’s happened.

Cad’s right. Jester’s right.

Beau and Fjord are both being pretty aggressive about this and it’s really interesting

I can’t decide whether that was a manipulative thing or a "we literally just don’t want to cause a panic by telling people there’s a monster demon god thing suddenly on the loose" thing

I don’t think that was a fair way to word that question, Beau. "Would a good guy serve a queen or save some people?" like that was not at all a fair way to ask. Y’all don’t have all the answers and Caleb’s right, you shouldn’t go off half-cocked

"Should I scry on Yasha?"//"Well at least she’ll know she’s not alone." MY HEART.

"I think disavowing authority simply because it is authority is reckless." Ooooo Cad hitting that nail on the head where Beau is concerned.

Jester being so sad and done is breaking my heart tbh

MotherfuCKING OBAN IS BACK ISNT HE

"The dead stare" too sad

FUCKING KNEW IT

I KNEW HE WASNT GONE

God dammit

"Seemingly" Matt said and I knew

"What if she was bad you guys? What if she was bad the whole time?" Oh Jester no </3

"She wasn’t." Thank you, Cad.

That’s an unfortunate point

What if they are heading to the main door

Which is very close

Don’t

That

All

Okay it looks like the Bright Queen has at least warned some people which is good

I can’t when Matt uses that accent because all I can think of is Skyrim

"Right now she’s definitely the orphanmaker" owwwww

M: "Make a stealth check"

S: "I’m not trying to steal them."

":O"

S: "I’m trying to buy them."

":O!!"

It was forged in the forest where he grew up?? And now he’s gonna reforge it in the kiln or something maybe?? Idk.

Dwueth’var. cool name.

It’s so cool to finally know something about the sword

Beau trying to make Jester feel better while internally being like "McFancypants??"

Jester doesn’t just need Fjord’s validation she needs EVERYONE’S validation

"Couldn’t sleep because I kept waiting for lightning" Beau was waiting for the Storm Lord to come save Yasha

C: "Caduceus is not the only one who’s good."

B: "You uh... talking about me?"

C: "Yeah, I am. You shit on yourself a lot. I see you do good every day."

Having Empire Kids feelings now

Ohhhhh Beau was supposed to take over the family business??

GASP Shakaste has gotten Luc to Nicodranus that’s good!

I hope

N: "You’re not chill?"

J: "No!"

"And you’ll meet the rest of your family" for Jester’s sake I don’t want the Traveler to end up being a jerk but I just can’t quite trust him

Time to go sailing again

"Let’s have the meeting at the volcano Cad wants to go to for convenience sake"

J: "It’s really hard. There’s so many things in the world and I thought it would be really cool to see it all. .... But a lot of it is just really sad, a lot of people getting hurt." :(

TT: "But there is beauty in sadness too. Without those moments it’s hard to appreciate the beauty. You’ll be sad again. To live is to be sad, time and time again. But you also get to be happy. You get to be playful. You get to be mischievous. Just know no matter where you are, I’m not far. And also know... you’re not the only one being watched over anymore. There are many voices, many eyes upon you. ... Wherever your friend Yasha is, I’m sure there’s some very powerful eyes on her that never left."

J: "Good ones? Helpful ones?"

TT: "I’ve seen the storm myself."

Alright fine I like him and I trust him and I’m gonna regret it

Beau listening for thunder again </3

What the FUCK is this Yeehaw Game Ranch ad omg

GUYS

GUYS YOUR MOORBOUNDERS

Literally anyone but Fjord

"I’m just gonna lie to her" see it needs to NOT be Fjord

Oh damn so their information was good?? There was an attack on the garrison and there were the assassination attempts

That’s good. It gives them a little cushion here.

Wait fuck do you think Dairon is the assassin they caught??

It is Dairon isn’t it

oh fuck is it Astrid??

I can’t decide which will be worse

AYYYYY BOY

ESSEK I missed you

Oh boy here we go who is it

I am so anxious

Oh shit he said her name

oh god

Oh no

Ohhhhhhhhhhh godddddd

Oh shit now he’s said his own name

FFFFFUCK

oh god it’s not Astrid

AND HE MIGHT HAVW JUST GIVEN HIMSELF AWAY

FUCK

nope nope nope

Well this woman has to die now

"I’ve heard things about you Bren. Welcome back."

NOPE.

"Some of us get tired of macabre fairytales. Enjoy your mouth full of lies when they choke them out of you." Damn.

Awww Yeza has been cleaning and making things neat because he’s LONELY HE’S BEEN ALONE SO LONG

Caleb, babe, be careful

You are emotional and making very curious decisions about what you are choosing to reveal

Stone, Dust, and CLAY huh?

I’m suuuuuper into this lore this is great

I wanna know if it’s Matt’s or Taliesin’s or a mix of both

Cad: "I’m 2000 years old"

N: "Are you shitting me right now?"

Cad: "Yeah :D"

Caleb is confusing everyone and it’s quite funny but also a bit sad he’s clearly so shaken

Beau’s definitely in trouble

Good episode! Honestly Laura really carried it this week, with the amazing Jester feels. Taliesin too.

Good ep. Gooooood ep.

#cr spoilers #emi watches critical role #critical role

28 notes · View notes

changingourdestiny · 5 years

Text

Fictober Day 19: The Wolves and the Phoenix

Prompt number: 19. “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Fandom (AU if applicable): Destiny (Changing Our Destiny Fan-Series)

Rating: M (Destiny is rated PEGI 16)

Warnings/Tags: Mild language, violence

Let’s go hunt some wolves! Upon request of Petra and the Queen, Fireteam Paralight set off to hunt the ‘Kell of Kells’ while being lead by…Blaze?

—

‘Attention, Guardians. This is Petra Venj of the Awoken Royal Guard. Multiple bounties have been issued on key Fallen targets. The Reef is now open to you.’

“Y’know, if you told me 8 months ago that the Queen would open the Reef to the Guardians of all people, I would have literally laughed in your face.”

Three jumpships soared through the stars as they entered the Reef. “By the way, Adam. We’ll be working with Petra, so don’t get distracted by making lovey-dovey eyes at her, yeah?” Blaze laughed, followed by an agitated exhale from Adam’s comm. “I can’t believe it either.” Rae added before chuckling, “Blaze, don’t hate me, but I wonder what Uldren’s reaction was to the Queen opening the Reef to all Guardians. My guess is…” Rae then began to do an Uldren impression, “‘Sister, I respect your wishes, but what am I to do with all these Guardians? I can’t possibly sass them all! I would-’”

“Guardian.”

A familiar – and slightly agitated – voice come through the comms, taking Rae by surprise. “GYAH! Prince Uldren! Uhh…I can explain?”

Rae heard Blaze burst into laughter on her comm followed by a sigh from Uldren, “See you on the ground, Blaze.”

Rae sighed, “Why me..?”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes!” Blaze snickered.

———————————————————————

“Aaand we’re here!”

Rae, Adam and Blaze arrived on the Vestian Outpost. “I’m gonna go see what Uldren wanted to talk about.” Blaze spoke up, heading towards the throne room, “You guys good to go get the briefing from Petra?”

“Me, yep.” Rae began, “Not sure about Adam though.” Adam’s face went red and punched Rae in the shoulder. “Ow! Hey, I was kidding!” Rae chuckled. Blaze laughed as she left for the throne room while Rae and Adam headed to Petra’s post. Petra was staring at a screen before noticing the two Guardians approaching, “Ah! Welcome back to the Vestian Outpost, Guardians. We’re gonna hunt some Wolves together.”

“Sounds fun.” Rae smiled, “So what’s the mission?”

“Variks tracked the House of Wolves and their Kells to Venus. Let’s get to work.”

“Alright. I have a feeling we’ll be running into angry Vex – they’re still ticked about the Black Garden incident – so we’ll need-”

“Actually, the Queen told me to give you a request if you accepted the mission.” Petra interrupted, “Well, more like an order, really. She wants Blaisel Kiria to lead the mission.”

“…Blaze. The Queen wants Blaze – our Blaze, impulsive, reckless, doesn’t-like-strategies Blaze – to lead the mission?” Rae asked in disbelief.

“The Queen said she’d feel more comfortable if someone she knew and trusted was in charge.” Petra replied, “Say what you will about Blaze but from what I’ve heard, she was one of the best soldiers back in her Reef days-”

“RAEADAMPETRAGUYSHOLYLIGHTDIDYOUHEARHOLYSMOKESI’MGONNAFLIPAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

The conversation was interrupted by the loud voice of an extremely excited Hunter as Blaze came bounding into the outpost towards the group. “Let me guess.” Rae began, “Uldren told you who’s leading the mission.”

Blaze nodded excitedly, practically bouncing with excitement. Rae sighed, “Traveller, help us…”

———————————————————————

“Whoo!! Yahoo!! Yeehaw!!!”

“I HATE THIS!!!”

Blaze whooped and cheered as she jumped across the appearing and disappearing platforms of the Terminus, followed by a panicking Rae and Adam. Rae, thankfully, was able to glide between platforms but Adam was having a bit of difficulty getting through, occasionally barely making it on and off platforms. “Oh, come on! This is fun!” Blaze called behind her as she landed on one of the permanent platforms, “Besides, we need to get hyped up! We’re moments away to stopping Skol-ass for good.”

“Wow, such an original joke.” Uldren chuckled through the comms. “Oh, as if you can make a better one!” Blaze rolled her eyes playfully as Rae and Adam caught up. “Hey. Save the flirting for later!” Rae lightly scolded. “Ah-ah, Guardian. Who’s the leader of this mission?” Rae could the smirk in Uldren’s voice as she sighed in frustration. “The Crow’s and I are inbound.” Petra interrupted the banter. “Roger that.” Blaze replied, “See you soon, P.”

The three Guardians scaled the large platform when Rae let out a cry of surprise. Blaze spun around to see a group of Fallen appear out of nowhere, “What the-?! Where’d they come from?!”

“Guardians!” Petra’s slightly panicked voice rung through the comms, “There are dozens of new Wolf signatures, and the number keeps growing. It’s the Vex tech!”

“I got eyes on the target!” Rae called out, pointing to Skolas who was standing by Vex gates that were practically spewing out Fallen. “Skolas!” Petra exclaimed, “He’s pulling the entire House of Wolves through time!” Blaze cursed under her breath. “Damn…we can’t take on Skolas and all of these Eliksni at the same time…” she muttered before calling out, “Petra, get yourself and the Crows here ASAP! I don’t know if we can take down these Wolves on our own.” Blaze then turned her attention to Rae and Adam, “You two, destroy the gates immediately. The longer they’re active, the more Eliksni will show up. I’ll go after Skolas.”

“What?!” Rae exclaimed, “Blaze, I know you’re the leader for this mission, but that’s insa-!”

“Hey!” Blaze yelled, taking Rae aback, before smirking, “I may not listen to your plans every time, but I always have faith that whatever mess we end up in, you’ll find a way to bring us out victorious. That’s not just faith I have in you as a leader, but as a friend. So now I need you to have faith in me, Rae-Rae.”

That’s when Rae saw it. This wasn’t the usual ‘cocky, impulsive Blaze’ smirk. This was something different. This was the Blaze that Petra described; a strong, determined and calculated Blaze that knew what she was doing. Rae was silent before smiling, “Alright. I’ve faith in you.”

Blaze gave a nod before yelling out, “Fireteam Paralight, engage!!!”

Rae and Adam sprinted for the gates, striking down whatever Fallen got in their way, as Blaze headed straight for Skolas, “Oi, ugly! I’m over here!” Skolas spotted the Awoken Hunter and yelled out something in Eliksni. “He just said, ‘Foolish child.” Variks began, translating Skolas’s words, “I stole the gift of Freedom. Secrets of time and space. House of Wolves will stand forever.’”

“He has nowhere left to run!” Petra added, “Take him down!”

“Gladly!” Blaze smirked. Blaze scaled up a tower before doing a backflip over Skolas, firing shots at the Kell as she flew, before landing perfectly. She ducked behind cover as she reloaded her hand cannon and called through her comm, “How’re those gates coming along?”

“Adam just finished the second-last one!” Rae replied, “I’m still working on the last one, but these Servitors won’t leave me alone!”

“Adam, go provide Rae with backup! Petra, what’s your ETA?”

“Not much longer now.” Petra responded.

“You better hurry! You’re missing the party!”

Blaze went to jump out of cover and engage Skolas when-

*WHAM!!!* “ACK!!!” “BLAZE!!!”

Blaze felt the wind get knocked out of her lungs as Skolas pinned her against the wall by the throat and crushed her hand cannon, which had fallen out of her grasp, under his foot. Blaze frantically clawed at his grip but to no avail. Rae and Adam, who had just finished taking down the last gate, tried to make their way to Rae, but the Fallen kept getting in their way. Blaze kept trying to break out of Skolas’s grip as the Kell kept choking her. Skolas chuckled darkly as Blaze began gasping for air…

…until he felt his hands getting warm…

…then hot…

…then scorching…

Skolas’s eyes went wide as he suddenly let go of the Awoken, holding his burning hand. Skolas went to glare at Blaze but took a step back in fear at what he saw. Blaze’s body slowly began to catch fire as she looked up at Skolas with a malicious grin. “You wanna play dirty…alright…

…LeT’s PlAy DiRtY!!!”

The fiery wings sprouted from her back as Blaze fully catches fire and tackles Skolas, clawing at him and leaving burn marks on him. Skolas let out ear-splitting yells of pain, as Rae, Adam, and even some of the Fallen, looked on in horror. “Is that…?” Petra gasped. “Blaze’s power.” Uldren finished, “She erupts into flames when she would become enraged…but she doesn’t seem enraged this time…maybe those Guardians were able to do some good after all.” Uldren muttered the last part.

Skolas crumpled to the ground, Blaze standing in front of him, as the remaining Fallen retreated. “Listen here, ‘Kell of Kells’.” She growled, “If I EVER hear about you or any of your Wolf or Kell buddies betraying my home, I will personally ensure that you all burn in hellfire.”

“The House of Wolves is broken!” Petra announced, “Stand by for a transmission.”

“Transmission?” Rae raised an eyebrow before the familiar voice of Mara Sov came through the comms.

“This is Mara Sov, Queen of the Awoken. Guardians, when you first came in search of the Black Garden, I thought of you as just more Motes of Light, too far from their Traveller. I see now that I was wrong. Accept my thanks, and the promise of a fitting reward. Petra, bring Skolas to me!”

As Skolas was transmatted onto a nearby ship, Petra hopped back on comms, “Capture confirmed. I almost feel sorry for Skolas here. Conversations with the Queen can be…harsh. Anyway. I'll meet you back at the Reef…with your reward.”

Suddenly, Uldren’s voice rang through the comms, “Guardians, listen closely because I will never say this again…but good work. Not just with Skolas…but when Blaze was with the Guard, I was only able to teach her how to weaponize her temper…but you were able to help her to use her powers without using her temper…and she has found a place where she can feel at home...where she’s respected for herself. If you value your Light, you best never upset or betray her or you will have me to deal with, am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Rae replied.

“Good. See you at the Reef, Paralight.”

Blaze fell onto the ground with a sigh, before letting out a chuckle, “Heh…heheh…see? Told you I’d lead us to victory!”

“Yes, I admit it, you were right.” Rae laughed as she helped the still-warm Awoken to her feet, “Now let’s get back to the Reef. We have a reward to claim.”

“Hey! The mission isn’t over YET! I’m still the leader!”

“Haha! Alright, alright. Lead the way, fearless leader!”

8 notes · View notes