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snowdice · 4 years

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You I’ll Come Back For (Part 3)[Dice Roll 5]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Virgil, Logan/Deceit/Roman (more background)

Characters:

Main: Patton, Virgil

Appear: Roman, Logan, Deceit, Remus

Summary: They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.

He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

Universe: Cops and Criminals AU

Genre: Crime

Notes: Murder mentioned, gun mentioned.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

Part 1 Part 2

It had been about a month since the kiss that very much, very definitely should absolutely not have happened, and god was Patton having a hard time not thinking about it.

It was quite the moral dilemma wasn’t it? Virgil was a convicted felon on the run from the law and Patton was a police officer trying to catch him. Yet, he’d forgotten that in the moment. He’d forgotten what type of person Virgil was and everything he’d done. It made Patton feel guilty. He could barely even meet his boss, Logan’s eyes.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think about the man’s lips on his or how gentle his hand had been in Patton’s hair. The low tone of his voice when he’d uttered the words “you I am coming back for,” haunted his dreams and definitely not the nightmare kind.

However, right now was not the time to be thinking about dark, dangerous eyes that softened inexplicably on Patton or the contrast of the feeling of warm lips on his to the cool handcuffs on his wrists. He was at work, mostly alone at the moment since everyone was either out getting lunch or on their way to go get lunch. Patton was supposed to be filling out a report, not daydreaming. He frowned at it. He really didn’t like paperwork.

He looked up from the paperwork, happy to completely forget its existence, when a man marched into the office as if he owned the place. He was wearing a business suit with a yellow tie and had a scar across half his face. He also looked like he not only could kill a man, but was planning on doing so forthwith.

“Um, excuse me sir,” Patton said in his most sweetly placating voice. “Can I help you.”

“No.”

“Uh, I’m sorry sir, but this is a police station,” Patton said, keeping a smile on his face. “If you-”

“Dee!” Roman’s jovial voice said. He all but bolted across the office with his arms open as though to hug the grumpy man. ‘Dee’ put up a hand to stop him.

“This is not a social call. Where is Berry?”

Roman blinked. “We’re using last names today?” he asked. “Must be serious.”

“Roman,” the man warned.

“Chill,” Roman instructed and that was not the tone Patton would have used to attempt to calm the irritated man, but Dee didn’t immediately snap Roman’s neck so that was good, “we just went out for lunch and he went to park the car. He’ll be right behind me. Everything okay?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

Roman put a hand on his shoulder, but then his thumb wandered, tracing softly across his collarbone. Patton raised an eyebrow. “Can I help?” he asked in a soothing tone.

The man batted his hand away. “Don’t do that.”

Roman’s frown almost edged on a pout. “Why not?”

“Because you are about to be so mad at me,” Dee spat.

Roman’s brow crinkled. “Why would I ever be mad at you, dear?” he asked fluttering his eyelashes.

“Stop it,” Dee complained, his face softening just a bit despite the harshness to his words, “stop that. If you actually want to be useful, find Patton Heart and have him wait outside of Logan’s office for us.”

“Um, I’m Patton actually,” Patton interjected with a little wave.

His eyes flicked up and down Patton. “Of course, you are.”

It was then that Logan entered the room, stripping off his coat as he went. He paused when he saw Dee with a slight frown. “Dee, what are you doing here?” Logan asked.

“I need to speak with you. In your office. Now.”

Logan bristled and crossed his arms. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to appreciate what I have to say either,” Dee replied and then swept past him.

Logan gave Roman a questioning look. Roman just shrugged and Logan turned on his heels to follow Dee into his office with clipped footsteps.

“Um Roman,” Patton said when the door snapped shut behind them, “Who was that?”

“That was Dee,” Roman said, staring at the door in confusion. They could see the two men talking through the window in the door but couldn’t hear them. “He’s our husband.”

“He’s your other husband?” Patton asked. He knew of course about the illusive third man who was always out of town or busy, but the way they’d always talked about him made him seem… not that. “He seems…” Patton said.

“He’s not usually that grumpy,” Roman said and then paused in thought. “Okay, maybe he sort of is, but he has to spend most of time with my brother so it’s understandable. He’s definitely usually not that short with Logan or I though, so I don’t know what’s going on.”

It was then that the voices behind the door picked up a bit. First it was Logan’s voice, still just a bit too low to hear anything but the angry tone. Then…

“If you think that just because we’re married, I have to tell you everything I do at work, you are sorely mistaken!” Dee screamed.

“No! But you do have to tell me if it impacts my life!”

“Well dinner tonight’s gonna be fun…” Roman mumbled under his breath.

They continued to argue for a few more minutes; Patton and Roman could hear just bits of screaming every so often but nothing to give them a clue about what on Earth was going on.

Eventually Dee strutted out of the office, still clearly fuming, Logan hot on his heels. He didn’t even spare them a glance as he walked down the hallway.

Logan pressed his lips together, staring at his back with narrowed eyes before saying, “you two come too,” and taking off after him. Patton shared a glance with Roman before they followed after them.

They walked down the hall to some meeting room Patton had never been in before. Both Roman and Patton got to the open door at the same time and looked in. Dee was standing calmly with his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall and Logan was glaring at him from a few feet away. Yet neither of them is what took either Patton or Roman’s attention. No, their attention was taken by the man standing by the window. He wore a dark black hoody and his hair was slightly mussed probably from him wearing the hood. His hands were stuck casually in the hoody pocket and he gave Patton an awkward half smile.

“Hey,” Virgil said. Roman was immediately reaching for his gun. “Calm down Romano, I work for your husband.”

Roman rounded on Dee immediately. “He what?!”

“Yeah, yeah I know I’m sleeping on the couch,” Dee grumbled.

“On the porch more like,” Logan hissed.

“…Yep.”

“Thanks Dee,” Virgil said without looking at him.

“What can I say?” he grumbled, glancing at Logan, “I’m a romantic.” Logan responded with an even more intense glare in his direction.

Patton looked at Virgil and tapped his lips with a curious head tilt. Virgil immediately shook his head fervently. Patton nodded.

“And what exactly was that?” Logan asked suspiciously looking between them.

“Nothing,” they both said together.

Dee scoffed rolled his eyes. “He’s an undercover cop,” Dee told Patton. “Have fun with whatever that is. I’m going to go find a good divorce attorney.” He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and strode out of the room.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily,” Logan called after him. He turned back to Patton. “I am aware of Dee’s career so I can confirm this information.”

“You’re a cop?” Patton asked Virgil.

“I am,” he said.

“You’re not a murderer or torturer or drug dealer or anything else you were convicted for.”

“Nope,” he replied. “It was all a cover.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I’m not as bad of a judge of character as I thought then.”

“Again,” Logan said suspiciously, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“Come on, Lo,” Roman said. “Let’s make sure our husband knows he doesn’t actually need an attorney.” Logan mumbled something about ‘Last Will and Testament’ under his breath, but Roman just rolled his eyes and pulled him from the room.

Patton looked back at Virgil. “So, this is what you meant about coming back for me?” he asked.

“Yeah it is.”

“Oh,” he replied, biting his lips. He thought for a moment and then laughed. “Goodness, I got in your way a lot, didn’t I?”

“You were an actual thorn in my side,” Virgil confirmed with a chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Eh don’t be. It’s just ‘cause you’re a good cop.”

“And you’re a good undercover cop,” Patton complimented rolling up onto his toes with his hands clasped behind his back. “It never even crossed my mind.”

He blushed and goodness that was adorable. Who knew he was adorable? “Yeah except for, you know, all of the arrests.”

“There were a lot of arrests,” Patton laughed.

“So. Many. Arrests,” Virgil replied. They smiled at each other. “Anyway.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly. “Your boss is busy either murdering or having makeup sex with my boss. So… do you want to get out of here?”

Patton grinned. “Sure,” he replied. Virgil offered his arm and Patton took it.

Thanks for reading!

If you were intrigued by the dynamic of Roman, Deceit, and Logan, I do have a fic set in this universe about how Roman met both Deceit and Logan called Mistaken Identities.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #moxiety #roloceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #roll the dice #roll the dice 5 #adriana writes #murder mentioned #guns mentioned #you i'll come back for #cops and not robbers au

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chuckling-chemist · 4 years

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Everybody Needs Somebody

((They say a picture’s worth 1000 words so I wrote 3750 because I can’t draw and then rushed the gag itself. Also probably the only thing I’ve really written of all this that I’m posting, be it here or anywhere, since my interpretation of the ball being at a swanky hotel was incorrect, but also everything else is only like....debatably relevant? All 1.5 other pieces, that is. idk, might another short piece or two but this one was certainly a vanity project written in the early hours of the morning in post-Stardew Valley Christmas hazes that is only getting posted to make myself feel better, for some sense of “welp did the thing I said I was going to write 6 months ago and here it is” type of thing.

Anyway there’s a lot of silly references in here so kudos if you pick them all out))

Joilet tapped his foot impatiently from behind their practice room. He hadn’t meandered much around the crowd of the ball -- ignoring the current charges against him, high class crowds weren’t his scene -- but current security was still enough to make him worry. Brownblood host or not, he knew enough have true highbloods stalking around as guards. Bouncers who Joilet’s certain were watching him and recognized him the last time he did a sweep of the temporary hivestem. After their performance, Joilet and Akroid were going to have to peel out immediately.

At least they were paid upfront this time upon meeting him in person the night prior. In cash.

Though, to be fair, the Blue Brothers shouldn’t have been paid. A friend of theirs in similar line of work, a brownblood named Elliah Fagane, performed last sweep and she was slated to perform again. She was perfect for the job, a good little songbird who kept complaints she had about anything to herself and was the perfect paragon of elegance and grace -- lowblood or not. The Blue Brothers, meanwhile, were two midbloods (Joilet was a stocky cobaltblood while Akroid was a lanky tealblood) who both had a penchant for getting into trouble. Under normal circumstances, the two of them alone -- much less the whole band -- would ever be asked to perform for a traditional socialite of any caste. But, they needed the money and so Joilet was able to pull a quick favor from her to have her drop her spot while simultaneously recommending them as adequate replacements. He accepted, playing as if he knew who the two of them were the whole time. He told them how much of a fan he was of their “country and western band”, how Elliah “just wasn’t the sound he wanted”, and how excited he was to get some “representation of their own people’s music, in a more palatable fashion” in the setist.

He was partly right: once they performed a cover of Stand By Your Rail at a dive bar, pretending to be an actual western band. He’s pretty sure this guy wasn’t aware of that, but an attempt was made. At least.

Their tight, uniform appearance also helped matters. Despite the different castes and heights, Joilet and Akroid looked the part of a two person midblood group with a backup lowblood band. Same black sunglasses that cover up half their face, same black fedora hooked onto their respective short horn (Joilet’s left horn, Akroid’s right), same unruly hair covered up by said hat, same black suit and skinny black tie. Sure, Joilet’s other horn broke off during his stint in prison while Akroid’s just hooked off again and Joilet’s sideburns were unkempt, but otherwise? Perfectly uniform. If the host had any questions of their legitimacy, they were quickly quelled after seeing the two of them in person the other night and, to Joilet, that spoke just as much as their actual skill level.

Joilet glanced over to Akroid. Damn teal looked as unflappable as ever behind those dark sunglasses. It was him who got them in this whole situation in the first place. Akroid, the idiot who picked him up from the big hive at the start of the perigee with a pipe dream of getting the band back together. The idiot who resisted arrest for public intoxication from the drones all because he was a former felon himself, starting them on this stupid honkbird chase in a desparate bid for cash. Akroid, the idiot who helped get his ass out of prison in the first place, all due to whatever strange desire for the other’s companionship they developed over the sweeps.

Fuck him.

Akroid must have caught his gaze because he gave a short smile and a thumbs up. “We’re doing good,” he said. “Remember, we’re on a mission from God.”

Right. The mission from God. Joilet found himself relaxing almost instantly. He distinctly remembered the out of body experience he had upon visiting one of those criminal infested freeports before departing; where, if he hadn’t talked to the God (Joilet didn’t believe the clowns held any sort of stranglehold on the concept of godhood), he certainly talked to a god. If nothing else, they made it this far without a single hiccup they couldn’t solve in their plans. It’s hard to believe someone’s not looking out for you when you escape a chase by driving through a busy mall and still make it out on top. Without their current employer hearing any of it.

“And what if God lets y’all get caught again?” their saxophonist, Marini, asked. He was a skinnier rustblood, long curly hair that went down to his mid back and oddly pointy teeth for such a red caste. “Leavin’ us high and dry again like when Joilet got hit.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akroid said. He shifted the sleeve of his suit, pausing in his speech to check the time on his watch. “Just follow our lead and look like nothin’s wrong.”

The rustblood let out a huff with a brief shake of his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How much longer do we have anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” Joilet answered. “We got ten minutes.”

“Well good.” He removed his saxophone off the neckstrap and set it on the stand. “I drank way too much Faygo. Gotta piss.”

“Then go piss!” Akroid’s stone face cracked into a distinct scowl. “Geeze, you don’t gotta announce everything. Just get back before we perform.”

Their drummer, another rustblood by the name of Barkay, stood up as well. He looked about the same age as Joilet, with curly hair partially that was obscured by his dark green visor. Barkay looked about as respectable as anyone of his caste could, with a dark red dress shirt and black tie.

“I’m goin’ with him.”

Joilet blinked harshly behind his sunglasses. “Okay? It’s the damn ablutionblock. Do what you need to.”

They apparently didn’t need to be told twice. The two trolls were out the door before Joilet had a chance to add anything else.

“You’d think his bulge was on fire,” Joilet finally said. His gaze swept around the rest of the band rapidly. They were quiet. Somber. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he’d have mistaken the lot of them going off to war, not performing for big money at some fancy gala-thing. “You think he’s gonna bail?”

“Marini? Nah. He was the only guy we didn’t have to pester who was workin’ at that diner. Been itchin’ to rip on that sax.” Akroid smirked wryly. “And doin’ it here? In front of all those rich pricks? I’d worry more ‘bout yourself. You gonna choke?”

Joilet snorted. “ ‘Course not. We’re in too deep.”

“Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah well….” Joilet trailed off. Akroid wasn’t wrong. Joilet had panicked. It seemed like every jackass out to get them were outside waiting for them. And Akroid, bastard he was, simply reminding him that those jackasses hadn’t got them during the rest of the sweep brought him back.

Not like he’d admit it out loud.

“Had a moment of panic’s all. Then I remembered this kid’s probably being a nervous wiggler about staffing with his first year. Nothin’ else.”

“Uh-huh.” Akroid’s smirk widened a bit, giving Joilet the sudden urge to punch it right off his face. But not now. They were too close to their goal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a new figure came out from the curtain, an indigoblood with short, cropped hair in a suit matching his caste walking next to Manini and Barkay. That was the guy who’d be ushering them on, sure, but he’s almost certain it hadn’t been ten minutes. Did something happen?

He glanced back over to Akroid, who just shrugged. Figures.

“Are you ready?” the indigoblood asked. He had some smile plastered on his face in some attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t look friendly. The offset, sharp teeth broken off at odd angles gave off a distinct predatory vibe.

“I dunno, did they get their break?” Joilet said.

Barkay grinned, giving the two trolls a thumbs up as he walked seat. “I got what needed done. No worries.”

The indigoblood’s face split wider, if that were even possible. He beckoned Joilet and Akroid with an open hand, unmoving until the two of them actually started following him through the narrow hallway. “Excellent. Let’s get moving then. Your stage is set, guests are waiting...you wouldn’t want to disappoint such eager crowds I’m sure. They could get aggressive.”

Joilet refrained from mentioning he passed time in prison by performing old classics, and just how dangerous some of those trolls were. Hell, he even learned a few new songs thanks to an actual country musician of a brownblood involving being stuck in prison. Aggressive wasn’t a problem. It was authority.

“Got it.”

“Good.” He stopped in front of a door, giving them a nod. “You can go ahead and enter through the door. Hopefully you don’t need any final warmups?”

“We’ll be fine,” Joilet said.

The indigoblood nodded. “If you’re certain. I shall return at the end of your set.” He opened up the door. “Best of luck.”

The two of them exchanged a look. “We don’t need luck,” Akroid said before disappearing through the door.

Joilet followed suit, giving the inidgoblood a curt nod of acknowledgement before adding, “We’re on a mission from God.”

As he walked through the door, he was immediately greeted with a dark blue curtain in front of them with a short opening to the left of them where he could catch the smallest glimpse of the piano on a raised platform. Nothing else. The piano obscured most of the view of the crowd beyond them. He imagined it was exactly the same on the other side.

It was a small exit. But it would be perfect for escaping out.

He wondered if Akroid was thinking the same thing. Probably. There was no way to tell, no way to properly read his expressionless face their last moment of respite before their performance and subsequent frantic escape before anyone did a serious background check about who they were. Still, there was a twinge in his gut that his partner in crime agreed.

When they exchanged one final nod in solitude and took their places in front of two microphones, Joilet had a feeling he was right.

As soon as he made it, he did another quick scan of the room. It was blue. Blue tablecloths covered the guest and dessert tables. Blue curtains shuttered the ball off from the outside world. Blue lights in the punch bowl made the ice snowflake sculpture inside look blue. And if it wasn’t blue, it was white. White tree sculptures adorned with white lights twisted around each marble pillar. Vases of white flowers topped every table. A white rug ran down the center of the ballroom. Small, white lights dotted an otherwise dark ceiling to give the loose impression of stars or snowflakes down onto the dance floor.

Even the trolls did nothing to break it up. If the dress didn’t match the owner’s blood color, it was a distinct blue or white with sparkles or shimmers. White lacing and white boas perfectly match the white boots and white dresses. The flashes of gray due to the high cut of many of the dress slits managed to break up the coloration more than anyone matching caste color.

Thankfully, the heavy blue-white combination made the distinct pinks, purples and blacks of those on their tail easy to spot. And oh boy, were they available -- even more so than earlier. Joilet wouldn’t be surprised if their host figured out about them at some point, but not early enough to cancel and reschedule so he let these brutes in instead. Burly indigo and purplebloods in suits stood along the edges, away from the crowds with their arms crossed in rapt concentration of the two of them. Standing next to the dessert table were a series of inidgobloods all dressed in formalized cowboy outfits, complete with stetsons, glaring at them -- the very same western group the Blue Brothers once impersonated. A few particularly annoying “seadweller master race” types in colorful gowns and military pinks stood in the back next to cobalts in military regalia, quite possibly from some local, non-drone law enforcement they managed to pick up to defend themselves. On the other side of the cobalts were a few subjuggalators who definitely were full into the “highblooded landdweller supremacy” in full face paint and religious purple clown robes. Both were groups the Blue Brothers have antagonized, whether it be intentionally with the seadwellers (they deserved it), or accidentally (turns out subjuggalators don’t like lower castes hearing the voice of their god, whatever god answered Joilet and Akroid notwithstanding). It was, however, the first time Joilet’s ever seen the two work together for a common goal. Traditionally the two groups go at it worse than a bad kismesis. He was almost proud that they were able to perform such a feat, though he wasn’t sure if the pride was directed at the supremacy groups or himself for bringing them together.

He let out a slow breath. Only one thing to do at this point. Start.

“One. Two. One, two, three, four.”

The band kicked off with the sound of upbeat horns while the two trolls gave a short dance around the mics for a few bars. After which, while the intro kept repeating, Akroid grabbed his micrphone and said, “We’re so happy to see so many of you lovely trolls here tonight. We would especially like to welcome the esteemed members of Kilran’s hired law enforcement who have chosen to join us at the 12th Perigee Ball here tonight. We hope you all enjoy the show and hope you remember that no matter who you are and what you do to live to try and survive, there’s still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them--” Akroid looked directly toward the back of the room toward the cobaltbloods assisting the supremacists with a disappointed shrug “--everybody. Everybody.”

And from there, it was Joilet’s turn. With the second mic in hand he started singing their opener, Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It was a speedy tune, possibly a little too fast for what their host was intending, but they sounded perfect and that’s all that mattered. The band’s hits fell right within the pauses in Joilet’s vocals, and Akroid knew exactly when to come in to accent with his deep baritone. Each transition into the next part of the song was smooth, from pointing to various people in the crowd at the you, you, you, to Akroid seamlessly whipping out his harmonica to accent Joilet’s singing the pre-chorus.

There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part these people weren’t dancing. Only one way to change that.

As they gave a pause in vocals to allow for a harmonica solo, Joilet started through a complicated dance twisting around the band members, ducking and weaving through saxophones and trombones while he turned this way and that. It was finished with a cartwheel across the front end of the stage, landing him right in front of the microphone for the next verse.

It was the opening some of the trolls -- lower castes mostly, but he caught flashes of higherbloods in the mix -- needed. The dance floor segment had all sorts of trolls, be it single or paired off in some fashion, dancing in whichever way they fancied. Akroid must have led them into a rhythmic clap too, judging by the trolls unwilling to dance instead clapping and even chanting at every repeat of you, you, you. He caught the leader giving them a death glare. Joilet ignored it.

At the next verse, Joilet swung on his heel back toward the band. He pushed his outstretched arms down toward the floor in an overemphasized quiet down for the crowd, and every instrument dipped off except for a cymbal hat to keep time and the grooving bass guitar.

It was Akroid’s time again. He moved right toward center stage, mic in hand and announced, “You know people when you do find those special trolls for any quadrant, you gotta hold that ‘rail, hold that ‘sprit, love him, squeeze him, love her, please her. Signify your feelings with every gentle caress or angry glare. Because it’s so important to have that special somebody! To hold. To kiss. To miss! To please and squeeze!”

Akroid dropped into a kneel on the stage, as if enraptured with his statement, as Joilet finished out with the chorus. He didn’t stand back up until the harmonica came back in. He rejoined Joilet in the back for the end, and the two mimicked each other dancing on the balls of their feet as the band played out.

When the last note struck, the two of them landed simultaneously on one knee, head down with their hand holding the brim of their hats.

Two songs left. Then they bolt. They could do this.

Their performance of Soul Man was just as energetic. This song was pretty much entirely Joilet’s, so he let Akroid dance around the stage now. He could catch the other troll jumping up and down, legs moving so loosely and briskly they may as well be jelly. He only cut in for parts of the chorus, letting that deep baritone accent Joilet’s raspy vocals.

In only a few short minutes Soul Man ended and their final song, Sweet Home Gusthollow opened with swift guitar licks in a short solo. As the rest of the band kicked in and Joilet sang out the first few bars, Akroid raised his hands up to lead those listening in a clap. Barkay joined in as well. He raised his own drumsticks high above his head, tapping off the beats until those in the crowd kept time on their own.

As the first verse ended, Akroid took hold of Joilet’s mic. “Six and three is nine. Nine and nine is eighteen. Look there pupa partner and see what I’ve seen.” He nudged Joilet and pointed toward the cobalt in the back standing between the supremacists. Shit. Another look and Joilet realized he knew that troll. He was one of the wardens of the prison he was released from. But he also noticed at his angle, with the growing crowd of dancers and listeners, they might be able to slip away. After all, the stage wasn’t raised. The only reason he could still see the warden was thanks to the gaps down the main walkway.

The two of them waved confidently at him as they continued through the chorus. Even with the distance, he noticed the cobaltblood drag a thumb across his neck.

It struck Joilet numb for a few seconds. Good to know where he stands, he supposes.

The two finished out the chorus with a flourish, letting the band take over. Joilet turned over to Akroid, offering out his hands to dance. The other troll accepted, and the two pranced right off the stage and into the crowd, swinging around as Marini moved center stage to crank out a solo. With the focus off them, they were able to swing right back onto the stage and through the small opening to the area behind the stage. He could still hear the band, but it was muffled.

“You think that creep’s waitin’ for us back here?” Akroid asked.

“I sure fucking hope not. Could do without running from his slimy ass too.”

Joilet whipped open the door, ready to run from whoever Kilrun left to deal with them back here. What they were greeted with instead was a troll leaning on the nearby wall wearing a tight, long sleeved red dress that pooled onto the floor. Yellow and orange flowers, though Joilet wasn’t sure what kind, outlined her skirt. A large, black wide brimmed hat wrapped outlined in string lights covered her whole face. When the door closed, they looked up, revealing a noticeable pair of fins and tyrian pink eyes.

A fuschiablood.

“So...you must be the two trolls I was informed of.” She gave the two a grin filled with those sharp seadweller teeth, just as predatory as the indigoblood earlier, but for some reason it didn’t feel directed toward either of them. “Ran into your two bandmates earlier. He gave me a heads up you might be headed back this way before you run off.”

“Who the hell’re you?” Joilet asked.

“Call me Mayola. You two pissed off those buncha entitled rich fucks who think they’re better than everyone else right?”

Joilet and Akroid glanced at each other in silence. “What about it?”

“I’d like to bring you and your band on for Sandyhorn’s next festival. You two would make a great fit.” She pulled a thick envelope, quite obviously stuffed thick with cash, out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to Joilet. “Consider this a down payment. You’ll get the rest when I see ya there.”

Joilet thumbed through the money, eyeing her. This was a lot. More than he they could’ve gotten from this gig alone. “Yeah sure. Sounds like a deal.”

“Hey, just one problem.” Akroid jutted his thumb out toward the direction of the ball beyond them. “All those goons seem to have caught on our tail and we can’t perform unless we get outta here without goin’ to prison.”

Her face brightened. “Oh well that’s an easy one. Here, follow me.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the door, that red dress almost appearing to shimmer in the dim lighting. With a quick motion of her wrist, she opened the door into the back of the stage. Only a few further steps in, and she leaned down and pulled at a small hitch in the floor. A trapdoor immediately popped up without a sound. “Found this out the other day when I couldn’t sleep. Should lead outside without a hitch, though you might have to go through some sewers.”

She looked up at them, eyes wild and filled with pride, catching the two troll’s equally bewildered and ecstatic expressions. “You’re brilliant!” Akroid exclaimed. “Amazing! Fantastic! Wonder--”

She held up a hand. “Save your praises for later. For now...just think of me as today’s savior.”

#my writing #fanfiction #should i tag any characters?#the only regular one only has a few lines #....eh tagging barely works on tumblr anyway

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dunnystuff · 3 years

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Sent: Wednesday, September 01, 2021 12:04 PM

Subject: Rich's Blog

Now We know How Churchill Felt Watching Neville Chamberlain

Hi to all -

The Aftermath

I had heard that during his term, Obama would sometimes ban Biden from attending strategy meetings because his 'thinking was dangerous'. Guess even Obama knew that Biden was not a diplomat, leader or thinker. Just a political hack, easily manipulated.

Well, everyone can now watch this. Yes, Biden did meet the plane returning the bodies of our fallen. He dutifully stood there, trying to look somber, but he was clearly not there in spirit. As each of the 13 bodies was carried off the plane, Biden stopped and looked at his watch. He had someplace more important to be than honoring our soldiers. Perhaps if those coffins had been filled with cash from China, he could have spared some time. Some of the families noticed this, and said very unkind things about Biden.

Remember Hurricane Sandy? That storm devastated the coastal areas of New Jersey. Obama paid a visit to see the destruction, and in one very revealing moment, he stood amidst the ruins of a home, holding up a weeping woman, and promised her with all the sincerity a politician can muster that he would not desert them, but would be there to take care of their tragedy. Then, he looked at his watch, and literally dropped this woman, saying he had a fundraiser to go to. Later, these people were told, by mail, that they did not qualify for federal aid, just because their houses had literally been wiped off the map. One homeowner sent the bureaucrats a letter, with a photo of himself standing in the ruins of his home, and inviting them to come over for dinner, since they were not experiencing any loss, or deserving of any aid from the government.

Now that the battle is over, and there is nothing to be done, the GOP members of congress held a long presser today. Lots of hand wringing, and the usual lamenting that someone must be held accountable, etc. Easy to do, after weeks of silence. But several members got up and told angry stories - these were often vets of that war - of people they knew being executed by the Taliban. One congressman told of his interpreter having been captured by the Taliban, and having to watch them behead his wife and children, before they beheaded him.

Nancy Pelosi was asked to attend. But, Nancy, like all piss ant tyrants, is a coward, and refused to attend to hear the stories, or answer the questions, etc. Nancy can only function in the dark, or in an environment she totally controls. Daylight is as dangerous to her as it is to any vampire. She sent some poor underling who was powerless to say or do anything.

For weeks now, Nancy has forbidden any discussion in congress about the situation, and blocked every effort by others to mitigate the problems or prevent the losses. Treason? Conspiracy? Efforts to destroy America? You decide. And, there was a lot of angry emotion in the room. A group of 90 generals and admirals demanded the resignation of General Milley and General Austin (Head of the Joint Chiefs and Secretary of Defense) for their total failure in this bungled effort. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin was revealed to have had detailed knowledge of the attacks on our troops in advance. He even notified medical personnel to be prepared for a 'mass casualty event' more than 1.5 hours before it happened! Dereliction of duty, anyone? In fact, our intelligence people had been presenting detailed descriptions of what was happening, and what was about to happen, when and where, to our forces on the ground. The word 'impeachment' was not mentioned. How odd.

Pentagon Press Secretary John Kirby blithely dismissed leaving so many stranded people as 'We have people stranded all the time.' He refused to answer any questions about the botched pullout . he refused to answer why, knowing what was about to happen, he failed to warn or protect our soldiers. But what really got a lot of folks riled up was the reveal, and photos, of our service dogs being abandoned, in their kennels, on the airfield. These dogs are soldiers, too, who work and give their lives for our soldiers. There is a move to rescue them, as they are in the custody of friendly people still there.

But, if we stall questions for a short time, they will be unnecessary. The Taliban is going house to house slaughtering 'enemies of their new state'. When I said this was going to happen, Big Brother censored my story.

Biden, meanwhile, is claiming that this was a 'great victory', and dancing his victory dance. He did what no one else could do. Well, that part is correct. We have never had a traitor like this before. And, all those $82 billion worth of weapons will be on the world arms markets in days, if they are not there already. This is more weapons that many of our allied nations possess - and they will go to the highest bidder, and will soon be used against us right here - coming across our southern border. Did you see the videos? Pallets of pistols, rifles, binoculars , night vision gear, body armor, and tons of ammo. Thousands of vehicles, even aircraft.

By the way, Biden is trying to get the CDC to ban ammo sales and distribution as a health and safety issue, since he cannot do it by Executive Order. An old Obama back door approach. He also wants private companies to do what he cannot do - discriminate against manufacturers and buyers of weapons - even as our own weapons are coming to attack us.

Do you remember what Ike did as he was about to launch D-Day? Chances were not so great that it would succeed. So, Ike prepared two statements. One, to give if the landings were successful, and another if they were not. In the second case, Ike said that the failure was his, and his alone. There are no Ike's in the Biden White House. Only whining finger pointers.

Teachers Union

President Cecily Myart-Cruz noted that kids are not doing well, and says that lockdowns that have kept so many out of class for nearly a year and a half is no problem at all. Just because they do not know their multiplication tables, or how to read, or spell, or write their own names, that does not mean they are not educated. Not at all. After all, she said, they have learned resilience. And, they know all about riots, protests, and insurrection. That is more important than basic functional skills, right?

General Flynn

He is still hated and feared by the left. He just posted a letter he received from Chase Bank - which caused quite a stir. The letter said "We decided to close your credit cards on September 18, 2021, because continuing the relationship creates possible reputational risk to our company." Well, such blatant discrimination got a lot of folks up in arms, and Chase had to issue a retraction, claiming 'it was an error'. No, it was not. It was an attempt to punish a man because of his political beliefs.

To put this in perspective, Chase just agreed to a $920 million settlement with the DOJ for conspiring to defraud the markets for precious metals and Treasury Bonds . If the settlement is nearly a billion dollars, just how big was this fraud?

New Orleans

Well, they are getting into action for the aftermath of storm Ida. The looting is already in progress, so the head of law enforcement made the announcement that this would not be tolerated, and that looting was a felony, and anyone arrested would be treated as a felon. Some have already been arrested. Compare to Katrina.

Years back, I lived in a small town with a very corrupt local government. It had been a family fiefdom for years. The Judge was family with the sheriff, and all other officials were on the take. Cops would raid one drug gang, and then sell the drugs from their police cars while on patrol. There were organized theft gangs, hitting up to 100 homes per week. No one ever saw their goods again. Except for one. When the gang hit the home of the judge, he complained to the sheriff that his wife's silver and furs had been taken, and by the most amazing coincidence, the sheriff found those items the very next day, and returned them to the judge.

Finally, the feds had enough, and swooped in and arrested everyone above the rank of meter maid. The mayor ran for reelection from his jail cell! Well, a new crop of folks took over, and one of the first things they did was institute a new law for the holidays. See, business robberies were an everyday occurrence during the holiday season (your Christmas shoplifting), as I knew first hand from being on the receiving end of an armed robbery, with daytime raids and nighttime break ins. So, there was an announcement that in any case of questionable behavior, police would shoot first, ask questions later. It was not long before two incidents brought this policy to light. A young man tried to rob a convenience store, and was shot dead as he exited the building. Another young man was discovered climbing out of a basement window of a business, with what looked like a weapon, but turned out to be the screwdriver he used to break in with, and he was also shot dead. When these two stories were reported on the news, robberies and other crime dropped by 90%, and never returned to former levels. Even crooks have a risk limit.

War of 1912

During this war, the British sent a force up the river to seize control of an important American post. A man on the riverbank yelled at the British "If Washington were still president, he would not let you do this !" The British officer responded "If Washington were still president, we would not even try." Teddy Roosevelt expressed this well, when he said "Speak softly, and carry a big stick". When people know you mean it - they will leave you alone.

China

They are concerned over how much time young people spend on video games. So, now all video games must be registered with the state, using real names and personal ID card numbers. All games will be monitored by the state, and youth will be allowed no more than three hours weekly to play games. One hour daily on weekends, and one hour on holidays. Kids and game makers are not happy, but this is China, and you have no say in your own life in China. Look for similar things to come here.

Rich

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such-a-common-girl · 7 years

Text

“Irresistible” PART 3

Word Count: 2,312

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex, fluff, Dean’s dirty thoughts (lol)

A/N: This chapter is completely in Dean’s perspective

PART ONE PART TWO

Dean’s eyes flutter open, the sunlight from the window seeping through what were supposed to be black out curtains. Groaning, he looks at the clock- six in the morning.

This was his normal routine- fall asleep around one, maybe two, in the morning and then wake up at five or six. He didn’t get much sleep most nights. With all of the stress that is constantly surrounding his life, and knowing that things actually do go bump in the night, he opts for getting the bare minimum. Even when he wants to sleep later, his body doesn’t let him.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand, his face brightening up when he sees an unread text from you. You two had your first date a few days ago, and he admittedly had fun. He hasn’t enjoyed himself on a date with a woman in a long time, not truly enjoying himself. He would normally up his charm on the date and pretend to be a gentlemen so he was guaranteed to get laid afterwards. That’s all that dates were for him, anyways- sex. There was never a second date, and he never usually called them afterwards. His life is too hectic to even think about having a relationship.

That was until he met you. That night at the bar, he admits that he was just trying to get in your pants. You were a beautiful girl who was interested in him. If he had it his way that night, he would have just slept with you right then and there, not even bothering to get your number. But when you had gone over there to talk to him, he was genuinely surprised at how much he liked talking to you. You didn’t seem desperate or throwing yourself at him, and he liked that. He had actually found himself a little disappointed when you left when Ana that night.

He was excited for your date, but he was completely planning on sleeping with you afterwards. He is Dean Winchester, after all. He doesn’t take girls on dates and not sleep with them. But then, you ended up surprising him again. He was intrigued by you. He felt like he could sit there and talk to you all night, he liked hearing you talk. You were smart, cute, and funny. You weren’t like the normally one night stands he typically had.

When the night came to an end, he realized how much fun he had with you. The conversation was great and it flowed easily, and not to mention how great of a kisser you were. God, the way you kissed him, he was so tempted to take you right then and there on your front porch. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. You were too nice of a girl for that. You deserved better, and if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to see you again.

His eyes skimmed over your text, a small smile forming on his face. All it had said was ‘goodnight’, since you had sent it the night before, but it didn’t matter to him.

‘I’ll see you tonight, I’ll be there at six.’ Dean texted back quickly. The minute he had got home from your date, he had texted you asking if you wanted to go out again. He wanted to see you again. You obviously said yes, and you had invited him to come over and watch a movie. Dean can’t even remember the last time he actually watched a movie, but then again, he can’t remember the last time he had taken a girl out on a second date, either.

“I feel like a goddamn teenager.” Dean mumbles to himself, setting his phone back onto the nightstand. He climbs out of bed, throwing his sweatpants on over his boxers and putting on his t-shirt.

He walks into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Sam was already awake, sitting in the library and reading yet another lore book.

“Sammy, cut the nerd crap for like one day. The sun is barely out yet and you’ve got your head buried in that thing.” Dean says, taking a seat in the chair beside his brother.

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, you know.” Sam rolls his eyes, but closes the book anyways.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m just saying, we finally have a few weeks off. Enjoy it.” Dean takes a drink of his juice.

“Yeah, actually, I was going to ask you yesterday but I forgot. Jody invited us for dinner tonight. I told her I’d go but I don’t know about you.”

“I can’t make it.” Dean says.

“Why not? Got an important date or something?” Sam scoffs. “Even Cas is going.”

“I already have plans.” Dean dismisses his question. He already had to cancel on you once, when a werewolf hunt came up last minute and he had to leave town. He didn’t want do that again.

“Like?”

“Like, it’s none of your damn business.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Sam stares at Dean. “There’s a second date, isn’t there?”

“No.” Dean snaps. “Maybe…. Yes. Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, man. I’m just saying… I’ve never seen you once, not even when you were a teenager, take a girl out twice. The sex must have been really good if you’re breaking your own personal rule. You guys did hook up, didn’t you?” Sam questions.

Dean looks at him, not responding.

“Oh, wow.” Sam says with realization. “You must really like her.”

“I’m getting there.” Dean admits. “Y/N’s just… I don’t know what it is about her. Women never affect me like this. Obviously she’s hot as fuck, but it’s more than that.”

“Hey man, you don’t need to explain yourself. I get it, trust me.” Sam laughs. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get all sappy on me.”

“What did you even tell her? About your job?”

“FBI agent.” Dean shrugs. “I almost made a complete jackass of myself the other night, though. She brought up my job and I completely drew a blank. It took me a minute to remember what lie I told her. Thank god she didn’t catch on.”

“Better hope that doesn’t turn around and bite you in the ass.” Sam gives him a serious look.

“What? Do you want me to just be like, ‘Hey, I fight monsters for a living. I’ve died several times. I’m also a felon, who’s been arrested numerous times, once for attempting to murder the president, who was also the Devil himself. My best friend is an angel, and oh, while we’re at it, I’ve met God personally- he’s a dick.’ Yeah, Sammy, I think I’ll stick to my lie.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam laughs.

Dean walks up to your front door, grinning when he steps on to your front porch. Memories of what was probably the best kiss he’d ever had, which just so happened to be with you in this same exact spot, floods through his mind and he can’t stop smiling.

He knocks on your front door, and when you open it, he can’t believe how beautiful you are. The way your hair perfectly frames your face, how kissable your lips are, how you have curves in all the right places…

“Hey, come in.” You break him from his thoughts, a smile plastered on your face. Dean followed you into your house and was immediately welcomed by Gus, your big golden retriever.

“I didn’t know you have a dog.” Dean says.

“Yeah, he’s a big sweetheart, don’t worry. I guess I forgot to ask if you liked dogs or not.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I love dogs. We connect on a personal level.” Dean jokes, remembering the time that he was underneath the spell that allowed him to talk to animals. Of course, he couldn’t tell you that.

“Do you guys have K-9 units as FBI agents, or is that just a police thing? Sorry, I don’t know much about your job.” You admit, color reddening your cheeks.

‘Thank god you don’t.’ Dean thinks to himself.

“Oh, yeah, no we have those, too. I don’t have one, though.” Dean lies. He really doesn’t like upfront liking to you like this, but knows that he doesn’t have another option.

“Okay, so,” You lead him into your living room. There was pillows and blankets on the couch, and a pizza box on the table in front of the couch. “I remember you telling me what kind of pizza you like, so I got that, but I have no idea what kind of movies you like, so…” You bite your lip.

“Babe, I’ll watch whatever. Just not The Notebook or any girly crap like that.”

“Hey, The Notebook is a great movie.” You defend, laughing. “But, I have Netflix, so I’ll just let you choose. You’re the guest after all.”

“Hm, Fifty Shades of Grey seems like a great choice.” Dean raises his eyebrow, laughing. Dean likes that he can be this joking person around you- he has to be so serious in his day to day life, this is a nice change. He feel like he can be himself.

“Uh, maybe not.” You laugh.

“What, you’re not into kinky sex?” Dean teases you. “Or maybe you secretly really are, and that’s why you don’t want to watch it with me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, sitting down on the couch and pulling a blanket over you. Dean does the same, and he sits extremely close to you- your thighs are practically touching.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Looks like you’ll just have to find out.” You flirt, and Dean puts his arm around your shoulders. You hand him the remote for your TV and he starts to look through the Netflix options.

Dean wants nothing more than to ‘find out’ with you. God, he’s almost hard at the thought of burying himself into you while you moan his name. But something inside of him tells him to not go there with you, not yet.

“Maybe I will.” Dean flirts back. “Hey, isn’t this one of the TV shows that you were telling me about the other night?” Dean asks.

“The Walking Dead, oh my god it’s so good. Have you seriously never seen it?” You start to get excited.

“Nope. Don’t have much time for TV.” Dean admits.

“Okay, we’re watching it.”

Dean watches you as you get super excited about introducing him to this show. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about it, but the way you were so happy that he was watching it with you made it worth it.

The more of the show he watched, he has to admit it’s pretty good, and he can see why you like it so much.

“I need a drink.” You say, pausing the show. You were snuggled into Dean’s chest at this point, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“I’m come with you.” Dean offers, and he follows you into your kitchen. He watches your ass as you walk in front of him, admiring how good it looks in the tight material.

“Need something?” You turn around.

“No, I’m good.” Dean clears his throat, and lifts his eyes up.

“You know, if you’re going to stare at my ass, you could at least make it a little less obvious.” You tease Dean.

“Baby, not my fault you have an ass to die for.” Dean walks over to you, and spins you around, kissing you.

Once again, the kiss was indescribable. As sappy and girly as this sounds, Dean could just melt into your arms the minute your lips were upon his.

He grabs your hips, lifting you onto the kitchen counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, and Dean deepens the kiss, sticking his tongue into your mouth. You start to grind yourself against him, wanting more. Dean grabs your hips and holds them still, mustering up as much self-control as he can.

“Y/N…” Dean pulls away, and you frown. “Look, trust me, I want this. A lot.”

“Then why is this the second time you’ve denied my advances.”

“I’m going to be really honest with you, okay?” Dean starts, and you nod. “I am not the relationship type of guy. I’m the type of guy to fuck a girl on the first date and then they’ll never hear from me again. But with you? I don’t want it to be like that, not with you. I want to take it slow… God, this sounds so cliché, who even am I.” Dean groans.

“No, it’s okay, I understand.” You say. “I’m glad you’re being honest with me.”

‘Yeah… Honest.’ Dean thinks to himself.

“Me, too.” Dean forces out a smile. He presses his lips against yours once more, and then lifts you off the kitchen counter. “Let’s go watch that show again.”

Dean lays in his bed, his hair still wet from the shower he just took. He wasn’t planning on taking another shower today, but Sam was still awake and he needed to… relieve himself after all the sexual tension he had experienced earlier. He didn’t want to take the chance of Sam walking in.

He lies his head on the pillow, thoughts of you running through his mind. He doesn’t like lying to you, but he knows its necessary. He just hates building up this relationship on lies.

Shit, Dean didn’t even realize he wanted a relationship until just right then. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he’d be upset and disappointed if you weren’t in his future. He really likes you.

“I’m so screwed.” Dean groans to himself.

part 4

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#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #sam winchester #fluff #smut #dean fluff #irresistible #spn #supernatural #fanfiction #part three #i want a guy like dean #dean is changing his ways #BUT HES ALSO A LIAR #hes still my baby

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