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katsukisblackteddy · 3 years

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The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt.

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens.

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I 𓂀 PART II 𓂀

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home.

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people.

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler.

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her.

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded.

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room.

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in.

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.”

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room.

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow.

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl.

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son.

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas

TAGS:

#katsukisblackteddy #pharaoh bakugou #warrior princess reader #bakugou x black reader #ancient egypt au #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black reader #in honor of black history month coming up #ancient egypt #TWQ&HP Mini Series #i don't know how many parts I want to write for this yet #black history month 2021 #mha x black reader #mha x poc!reader #pls i love mitsuki

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santacarlahorrorshow · 4 years

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Love’s Strange (Billy Hargrove/Reader)

Title: Love’s Strange

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/f!Reader; background Steve/Nancy/Jonathan

Summary: Written for the ‘The Breakfast Club’ prompt for The 80s Challenge by @nellblazer . “You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room. “

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: Underage drinking

Author’s Note: Set after season two of Stranger Things. Title taken from Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds. Principal Himbry is very much so based on the principal from Scream. I couldn't resist. Masterlist / Read on AO3

You thought the whole concept of Saturday detention was bullshit. You didn't understand what the point was of coming into school to waste half of your weekend. You would have preferred staying after school every day for a week than giving up your Saturday.

It wasn't as if you had anything planned, though. You would sit in your room, listening to music, and ignoring that the rest of the world existed. You would probably catch up on homework or finish the assigned novel for your English class. You didn't lead the most exciting life, but you really didn't want to spend your free time stuck in detention.

You knew what people thought of you at Hawkins High. They thought you were quiet. They thought you were a nerd who only focused on your grades and had no fun whatsoever. You usually didn't care what anyone thought about you, though. You were there to get your diploma and then get the hell out of Hawkins.

So what if you didn’t spend your weekends at parties or had a full social life? You didn’t know why you would bother to waste your attention on the other kids at Hawkins High anyways. They had never given you any consideration and you weren’t really jumping at the opportunity to try to change their minds about you.

At the end of the day, they had already made up their minds about you. Did it bother you sometimes? Sure. Were you tempted to try to change their opinion of you? Not really.

You sighed as you pulled open the front door to the school. You had been forced to walk to school, since your parents were out of town and you didn't have your own car. You didn't mind the walk, but since it was almost Thanksgiving, the air had a chill to it that took your breath away.

Once you got inside, you started pulling off your gloves.

"I see you've finally showed up," you heard from in front of you.

You glanced up to see Principal Himbry standing there, an unimpressed look on his face.

"I had to walk," you offered helplessly.

"That's no excuse," he said. "All of you little delinquents are late." He sighed before he glanced down at his wristwatch, shaking his head when he noticed the time. "You'll be in the library. I suggest you get there now," he snapped before he brushed past you to step outside.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way to the library. You weren't sure who you would be sharing detention with, but you hoped it wasn't any of the idiots you had come to dislike during your time at Hawkins High.

When you got to the library, you noticed it was eerily silent. You considered the row of three tables taking up space in the middle of the room. Each table only had three seats, so there weren't a lot of seating choices. You were glad you were the first one in the room, since that meant you got to choose where you wanted to sit.

You made a beeline for the table at the back. You chose the middle seat, hoping it would dissuade anyone from sitting at your table.

You sat in the silent library for long enough that you started to wonder if you should try to find something to read to pass the time. Just as you had convinced yourself to get up, the door to the library opened and three people walked inside.

You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Steve Harrington striding into the room followed closely by Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers. Nancy shot you a quick look before she moved to take the middle seat of the first table, Jonathan and Steve flanking her.

You were more than a bit surprised to see Nancy and Jonathan. They were a grade below you, but even you knew they were generally regarded as good students. Seeing Steve wasn't as much of a shock. You had a few classes with Steve and while he seemed like a level-headed guy, he also had a habit of bickering with Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove and disrupting class.

You really hoped neither of them showed up for detention, because you were sure it would lead to more bickering and fighting between the boys. You only wanted to do your time and get home to enjoy what was left of your weekend. You really didn’t want to get pulled into any drama.

You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room.

Billy jerked his arm out of Himbry's grasp. "I told you I know where the library is," he insisted. "I didn't need your help."

"Your grades would suggest otherwise, Mr. Hargrove. Take a seat."

Billy rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to say anything as he moved forward. You noticed Steve's shoulders tense as Billy brushed past him, but you were quick to drop your gaze to the table in front of you when you noticed Billy's attention focus on you for a moment.

You were aware of Billy dropping into the middle seat at the table in front of yours and felt relieved that he didn't choose to sit at your table. If there was anyone who didn't mind pushing boundaries just to get a rise out of people, it was Billy Hargrove.

You didn't bother looking up again until Mr. Himbry spoke. "I know you five think you've been given a free pass to just sit around and do nothing all day, but that's not how Saturday detention in my school is run."

Billy snorted as he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Please, enlighten us," he remarked.

Mr. Himbry shot Billy an exasperated glare. "I want you to write me an essay," Mr. Himbry started as he moved over towards the librarian's desk. He grabbed a small stack of loose-leaf notebook paper and a handful of pencils before he started distributing them among the five of you. You frowned down at the blank paper in front of you before you glanced up to see Himbry standing back in front of the door, his hand on the doorknob as if he was about to leave the room.

You hastily raised your hand, hating that you were going to call attention to yourself.

"What?" Himbry asked when he noticed you.

"What are we supposed to write about?"

You heard Billy groan as a smirk appeared on Himbry's face.

"I'm glad you asked. I want you to write me an essay about your character. Explain to me why what you did was wrong and how you're going to improve so it doesn't happen again."

Billy raised his hand. "But, sir, what if we're not sorry? What if we like our choices?" His voice had a mocking tone to it and by the annoyed expression on Himbry's face, you were sure he caught it.

"Mr. Hargrove, I hope out of anyone in this room, you will take this day to reflect on your bad decisions. You’ve certainly made a lot of them since you decided to grace us with your presence."

Billy leaned back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. "That'll be the day," he commented.

"I am sick of your attitude, Mr. Hargrove," Himbry snapped. "You just earned yourself another Saturday detention."

Billy chuckled as he moved to pull a stick of gum from the outer pocket of his jacket. Mr. Himbry crossed over to him and held his hand out.

"And no chewing gum in the library. It's bad enough you kids stick it under the cafeteria tables. We don't need that in here either."

"Sure thing, Mr. Himbry," Billy replied as he handed over the stick of gum.

He waited until Mr. Himbry's back was turned before he pulled out another piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. When he realized he had your attention, he shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit even to yourself that you found Billy Hargrove dangerously charming, even when he was being a bit of a dick.

Mr. Himbry turned to survey the five of you. "I want those essays finished by the time you're allowed to leave here today," he said. "You will stay right here in this room. No going off into one of the private study rooms. If I think you've left your seat when I get back, I'll add another Saturday to your sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aren't you going to stay here?" Steve asked.

"I have better things to do with my time than watch you all day, Harrington. I'll be locking you all in so I can be sure you won't leave."

"But, sir, isn't that a fire hazard?" Billy’s tone suggested he didn’t really care, but he just wanted to piss off Mr. Himbry by bringing it up.

"Shut it, Hargrove. You’re lucky I gave you detention and not suspension for smoking on school grounds,” Mr. Himbry responded, a displeased look on his face.

Billy held up his hands in surrender before he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He rocked back in his seat, not caring that his head was dangerously close to the edge of your table.

Mr. Himbry sighed and shook his head. "At least you're graduating this year," he grumbled before he turned and left the library.

You had no intention of actually writing the essay. There was no way Himbry could grade you on it, so there was no point in actually wasting your time on it. Instead, you grabbed the pencil he had left for you on the desk and started doodling in the margins of the paper. You were mindlessly drawing stars and scribbling snatches of lyrics from some of your favorite songs when you were torn out of your thoughts by Billy's voice.

"I should have known you would live for that extra homework bullshit," he said. When you glanced up, it was to see Billy sitting back up in his chair, his feet planted on the floor once again as he considered you over the top rim of his sunglasses. "Did you get turned on by the thought of writing another boring-as-shit essay, Miss Honor Roll?"

You shot him a glare before you bent back over your paper. You made sure to print the letters large enough on the page to be able to read them at a distance. You held the paper up so Billy could read your message to him.

His lips stretched in a smirk as he read the words. "Fuck off, huh? Such language from such a pretty girl."

"Just leave her alone, Billy," Nancy cut in, shooting a glare at Billy over her shoulder.

Billy turned back around in his seat, facing the table in front of him. "I'm surprised to see you here, princess," Billy said as he leaned forward in his seat, his gaze set on Nancy and Steve in front of him.

Steve turned around, a scowl on his face. "Hey, don't call her that."

Billy smirked. "I was talking to you, Harrington."

"You're a real asshole. Do you know that?" Steve snapped, turning fully in his seat so he could consider Billy.

"So I've been told," Billy drawled, seemingly unaffected by Steve's words.

"Why the hell are you even here, Hargrove? I would have thought you were above showing up for a Saturday detention."

"Oh, but then I would have missed seeing your face, Harrington. I couldn't possibly go a day without it."

"Just do what Y/N said and fuck off, Billy," Steve spat.

Billy chuckled before he pressed his hands to the surface of the table, pushing himself up to stand. "With pleasure," he hissed.

You watched him move over towards the library doors. When he reached out to try to open them, they didn't budge.

"That dick actually locked us in," you couldn't help saying. You really didn't think Mr. Himbry would go so far as to lock you all in the library. What if something happened? What if you needed to leave?

Jonathan glanced at you over his shoulder, a surprised look on his face.

Steve snorted as he leaned back in his seat. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Because that's just what today needed."

Billy turned around, his focus immediately going to you. "There you go with that smart mouth again," he said as he leaned back against the locked library doors. "How did you even end up in detention in the first place? Aren't you the perfect little teacher's pet?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to grab the paper and pencil from the desk. You pushed yourself out of your chair and then made for one of the private study rooms dotting the perimeter of the room. You didn't care if Mr. Himbry had forbidden it or if you ended up being punished for it. You would do just about anything in that moment to get away from Billy Hargrove and his insufferable attitude.

"Oh, we've got ourselves a rebel!" Billy called after you.

You didn't bother to look back at him or the others as you pushed the door closed behind yourself. You let out a sigh of relief when you dropped into one of the chairs found at the table in the middle of the room. You were sure you would be even more bored all by yourself in the study room, but you didn't care. If it gave you just a few moments to yourself, then you would happily take it.

You spent a couple of hours by yourself, absently drawing your own constellations on the paper and trying to find ways to entertain yourself.

You were thankful that it was warm enough in the room that you could slip off your jacket. You weren’t sure if the others were talking or even bothering with each other, because you couldn’t hear a thing from the main room. Sitting all alone in the study room without music or anything else to occupy your time was mind-numbingly boring, but you couldn’t help but think it was better than potentially listening to Steve and Billy fight all day.

You were starting to get sleepy and seriously considering balling up your jacket to use as a pillow when the door to the study room abruptly opened. You were startled enough that you almost tipped out of your chair.

"Get out of there," you heard Mr. Himbry snap behind you.

You sighed before you made yourself get up. You grabbed your things before finally turning and looking at Mr. Himbry. He sighed and shook his head, disappointment clear in his expression as you brushed past him.

"I'll see you here next Saturday," he told you.

Billy was sitting in the seat you had originally claimed, his sunglasses still on his face. When he saw you, he smirked at you. "Looks like I won't be lonely next Saturday after all."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to sit in the middle seat of the second table.

Mr. Himbry sighed as he passed your table. "Now, if you didn't bring lunch, which I don't think any of you thought to do, then there are pre-packaged sandwiches and chips that can be found in the cafeteria." He moved to stand near the librarian's desk, his gaze fixed on the five of you as he considered you. "You," he said as he pointed at you. "And Harrington," he added after a few moments. "Go to the cafeteria and get lunch for everyone."

Steve glanced at you before he pushed himself to his feet. You were quick to follow, glad that you would be able to leave the library for just a few moments.

"And don't take more than ten minutes," Himbry called out. "Or it's another Saturday for the both of you," he warned.

You really didn't want to spend your weekends leading up to Christmas in detention, so you simply nodded your head and followed Steve out of the library.

You didn't really know Steve Harrington all that well, even if you had been in classes together for years. However, everyone at Hawkins High knew who 'King Steve' was, even if he had recently fallen from the ridiculous heights of popularity he once seemed to enjoy.

"So," Steve started, shooting you a glance as he swung his arms idly at his sides. "Y/N, right?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, amused by the question. "Yeah. Steve, right?" You jokingly asked.

Steve rolled his eyes before carding his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

"I'm just trying to make small talk. I don't really know anything about you except that you're one of the smartest kids in our class. How the hell did you even end up in Saturday detention?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I'm more than just a nerd, King Steve."

"Alright, alright. Point taken."

"How did you end up with Saturday detention?"

Steve bit his lip before he shot you a grin. "I told Tommy H. to go fuck himself. Himbry overheard."

"Huh," you breathed. "Knowing Tommy, I'm sure it was deserved."

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a laugh. "Now will you tell me how you got detention?"

"Nope," you answered.

Steve laughed again, shooting you an amused grin, before he shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to like your secrets."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Harrington."

"Yeah? I guess you are."

A companionable silence fell over the two of you once you reached the cafeteria. You helped Steve grab the food helpfully waiting for you on the lunch table closest to the door leading to the lunch line. You caught a glimpse of one of the women who regularly worked in the cafeteria through the open door. She raised her hand in a wave when she saw you and you offered her a smile in return.

When you got back to the library, Mr. Himbry was pointedly looking at his wristwatch. "Another minute and you would have added another Saturday to both of your sentences." He considered the both of you, a scowl forming on his face. "And where are the drinks?"

"Uh," Steve started, shooting you an uncertain look. "You didn't mention anything about drinks, Mr. Himbry," he pointed out.

"It was implied, Mr. Harrington." Himbry sighed before he glanced away. "Wheeler and Byers," he called, snapping his fingers at the pair. "Go get drinks for everyone."

Nancy frowned, but didn't say anything as she got out of her seat. Steve watched Nancy as she passed by him, a look of longing on his face. You had heard about his brutal breakup with Nancy at Tina’s Halloween party and you couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. By the look on his face, you figured it was safe to assume he wasn't over her.

You moved to take your seat again, dropping a sandwich and bag of chips in front of Billy.

"Thanks, baby," he purred, sitting up in his chair.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, shooting him a glare. You faced forward in your seat, noticing Himbry stepping out of the library and closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Steve and Billy.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Billy quipped, earning an eyeroll from you. "So, hey," you heard Billy say. "I heard an interesting rumor about Harrington."

You saw Steve's shoulders tense, but he didn't bother to acknowledge that he had actually heard Billy.

"I don't care," you answered, reaching out to slowly unwrap your sandwich.

"I heard he's fucking both of them. Nancy and Byers." You heard Billy chuckle, as if amused by his own words. "The princess gets the freak and the jock. How's that for a fairytale ending?"

You noticed Steve's hands clench into fists. You only shared one class with both Billy and Steve, but that was enough to know that they had a complicated relationship. Billy constantly riled Steve up and thought it was hilarious when Steve finally snapped back. Hell, Billy liked to pick at everyone. You weren't sure if it was his own way of making sure he stayed at the top of the high school food chain or if he had another reason for bullying people, but you were sick of it.

"You know what?" You said as you turned in your seat to look at Billy. You noticed his eyebrows rise in surprise, as if he didn't think you would actually be bold enough to stand up to him. "It's none of your business if they are in a relationship. You know whose business it is? Theirs. No one else's." You considered Billy for a moment, noticing the way he seemed to be studying you. "You know what I think, Billy?"

"Enlighten me," he retorted.

"I think you're lonely," you told him. "You spend so much of your time antagonizing other people so you don't have to take a good, hard look at yourself. Because once everything is said and done, all you have is yourself. And maybe you don’t like you all that much."

"You don't know a damn thing about me, sweetheart," Billy muttered, his tone close to a snarl.

"Maybe that's because you don't want anyone to really look past those aviator glasses and that leather jacket," you pointed out. "Maybe if you let someone in, then you wouldn't feel the need to drag everyone else down with you. Maybe you should let someone lift you up."

Billy scoffed and shook his head. "That's the biggest piece of shit I've ever heard in my life."

You shrugged your shoulders, not bothering to respond as you turned back around in your seat.

Steve was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face for a moment, before he grinned. You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself flush at his silent approval, before you began to pick at the sandwich in front of you.

When Nancy and Jonathan got back, Himbry locked you in again.

You thanked Jonathan when he handed you a can of soda. You noticed the way Steve reached out to clap a hand to Jonathan's shoulder and the soft smile Jonathan shot Steve in return. You couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to Billy's words, but then immediately felt guilty for even thinking about it. If they really all were in a relationship, then you told yourself it wasn't any of your business. Although, a small part of you couldn't help but feel curious.

You picked at your lunch, not really in the mood to eat. You really just wanted to go home and fall into bed.

An hour managed to crawl past. The silence in the library was almost unnerving. You had long run out of space on your paper, so you had taken to using your pencil to try to color in the full page.

Every so often, you heard Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan all softly whispering to each other, but you were never able to catch what they were talking about. You didn't really want to eavesdrop, but you were so bored out of your skull that you were just about ready to try anything to stop yourself from banging your head against the desk as a form of entertainment.

"I'm bored," Billy groaned, finally breaking the silence in the room.

"No shit, Hargrove," Steve snapped. "We're all bored."

"Well, I have something that'll help," you heard Billy say.

You turned in your seat to see he was reaching into his coat. When he pulled out a flask, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Of course," you muttered to yourself, turning back around to face the front.

"What?" Billy asked defensively. "You have something against making things interesting?"

"How is drinking going to make things interesting?" You wondered why Billy even thought to bring a flask to Saturday detention in the first place.

"Because we're going to play a game," Billy said, reaching forward to poke at your shoulder.

Steve turned in his seat, his eyebrow quirked at Billy. "You have to be kidding."

"Nope," you heard Billy say, a smile in his voice.

You heard Nancy sigh before she turned to consider Billy as well. "What game?" She sounded like she didn’t really want to ask, but she was so bored she couldn’t help but grasp at any distraction.

Billy was silent for a moment, as if thinking over his choices. You heard him snap his fingers before he spoke again. "Never Have I Ever," he offered.

Jonathan snorted before he blushed when you all glanced at him, having obviously been caught off-guard by Billy's suggestion.

"What? You've got something to offer, Byers?"

Jonathan sighed before he glanced at Billy over his shoulder. "Just thought you'd think something like that was lame."

"I'm bored, Byers," Billy drawled as he pulled his sunglasses off before putting them back in his jacket. "There's a hell of a lot I'd do to avoid that."

You heard Steve groan before he pushed his seat away from the table. "You know what? Fuck it," he conceded. "Sounds a lot better than sitting here in silence."

"I never thought you'd agree with me on something, Harrington."

"I still hate you," Steve told Billy, glaring at him.

"Feeling's mutual," Billy sneered.

You shook your head, still working on shading in your piece of paper. You were going to have to get up soon and sharpen your pencil if you had any hope of completing your self-assigned project.

"I'm out," you muttered. "You guys have fun."

"Oh, come on," Billy coaxed. "Live a little. Have some fun yourself for once."

"I don't want to play," you told him, not even bothering to look back at him.

"Why not? You scared I'm going to get to know you like you seem to think you know me?"

You finally turned and met his gaze, momentarily getting drawn in by the smug look on his face.

Playing this game with the others was probably a terrible idea. Steve had been right to guess you liked your secrets, and it was mostly because you were sick of other people judging you. You knew that Billy likely picked at people for the same reason you also didn’t let them in. You didn’t want others to see you and then decide you weren’t worth it.

It was probably a terrible idea, but you really had nothing better to do. Besides, you didn’t like the challenging look on Billy’s face.

"Fine," you finally bit out. "Let's play."

"Great," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "What about you, Byers? Wheeler? You in?"

Nancy rolled her eyes when Steve turned a pleading look on her.

"Oh, come on, Nance. Don't make me play by myself." His lower lip poked out in a pout and you saw the moment Nancy began to cave.

Nancy glanced to Jonathan, catching his hesitant nod, before a reluctant smile flashed across her face.

"Alright," she agreed. "We're in."

"But how is it going to work with one flask between the five of us?" You couldn't help but ask. "Don't we all need our own drink?"

"We'll improvise," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Wait," Nancy called, hastily getting to her feet. "Maybe we don't have to."

You frowned when she went behind the front desk and disappeared into the librarian's office. She came back after a few moments with a small stack of mini paper cups. "There's a water cooler in there," she explained. "These will make things easier at any rate."

"Alright, let's do this," Billy said, getting out of his chair.

He moved to drop down into the seat next to yours while Nancy set the cups down in front of you. Steve and Jonathan had already turned their chairs to face your table and you felt weirdly flustered at the feeling of everyone focusing on you.

"Look alive, nerd," Billy said, nudging you in the side with his elbow. "Make yourself useful and help me out here," he added, nodding at the cups in front of you.

You rolled your eyes before you reached out to grab the cups. You separated them, holding one out to Billy at a time as he poured a little of whatever was in his flask into each cup. You handed them out to the others as you went, wondering if this was such a good idea.

"Don't make me regret wasting the good stuff on you assholes," Billy said as he finished. He twisted the cap back onto his flask, shaking it for a moment as if checking to make sure he still had some left. "Plenty left to go around," he added. "So, who's going first?"

"I've got an idea," you said, reaching behind you to grab one of Billy's blank pieces of paper. You ripped the paper into pieces and wrote a number on each one. You made quick work of folding each piece and then mixing them up. "Okay, we'll just go in order of the numbers we choose."

"Smart," Steve commented, shooting you a quick smile, before he reached out to grab a number.

Jonathan ended up going first. He looked like he wasn't really sure what to say at first.

"Come on, Byers," Billy groaned. "Do you not know how to play?"

"I do," Jonathan assured, shooting Billy a glare. "Never have I ever," he started, trailing off for a moment. "Used a fake ID," he finally finished.

Billy snorted before he downed his shot. You noticed Steve did as well.

Steve scrunched up his face and shook his head, turning his head to cough into his sleeve. "What the fuck is that?"

"The good shit, Harrington," Billy said. "So shut up and drink up."

"My turn," Steve said, holding his cup out to Billy to refill. He seemed to think about what he wanted to say for a moment before he finally spoke. "Never have I ever played hooky."

You quirked an eyebrow at Steve. "Really?" You would have thought King Steve would have skipped school at least once before.

"Really, really," he confirmed with a nod of his head before he smirked over at Nancy and Jonathan.

"Not fair," Nancy grumbled before she laughed and downed her shot, Jonathan not far behind her. You noticed Billy tip his head back as he had his second shot of the game.

He glanced over at you when he noticed you watching him.

"You're zero for two, sweetheart. You should join in on the fun."

"You're two for two," you reminded him. "Maybe you should start having a little less fun."

"Never," he said, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes, glancing away from him.

"Your turn, Y/N," Nancy reminded you when you were silent for a few moments.

"Right," you agreed, staring down at the '3' you had scribbled down on the slip of paper in front of you. You weren't really sure what to say. When you agreed to play the game, you seemed to have momentarily forgotten that you really hadn't done all that much. It made it easy to do your part now, sure, but you were about to make it clear how much of a social life you didn’t have. Maybe you really were as straitlaced and boring as everyone made you out to be.

"Tick tock, babe," Billy drawled, knocking his shoulder lightly into yours.

"Don't call me that," you automatically said, barely even thinking about your response. "Alright, never have I ever been in a fist fight."

You noticed Steve, Jonathan, and Billy take a shot. You glanced to Jonathan, surprised that seemingly sweet and gentle Jonathan Byers had enough fire in him to have been in a fight.

Nancy went next, admitting that she had never been arrested.

Billy and Jonathan downed a shot for that one.

"You know, maybe I was wrong about you, Byers," Billy said. "You're quite the miscreant, aren't you?"

You noticed Jonathan's face flush, so you looked to Billy, figuring turnabout was fair play.

"Get on with it, Hargrove," you said, reaching out to tap your fingers against his slip of paper with the '5' written on it.

"Patience, baby," Billy said. "I know how to make a good thing last."

You heard Steve groan and shake his head. "Stop flirting with the poor girl and just get on with it, Billy. This was your idea," he pointed out.

"Stop ruining my fun, Harrington," Billy snapped. He considered Steve for a moment before a wicked grin appeared on his face.

You instinctively knew what he was about to say would likely be a dig at Steve.

"Never have I ever," Billy started, pausing as if for dramatic effect. "Had a three-way," he finished after a few seconds.

You reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You hissed at him, shooting a quick, worried look at the three in front of you.

To your surprise, all three of them were taking a shot. You felt your eyes widen in surprise before you looked to Billy, noticing the satisfied smirk on his face.

He leaned over until he was in your space. "Called it," he whispered, winking at you, before he pulled away.

You hated to admit that you felt a tiny thrill at having Billy Hargrove so close to you that you could smell his cologne and feel his hair brush against your shoulder. You also would never admit that when he leaned away, it left you feeling just the tiniest bit bereft. You didn't understand why you seemed to have a bit of a crush on him. He did nothing but poke at people and call you pet names. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would probably never seriously glance your way when every other girl in the school was attracted to him and looking to get into his pants.

"Uh, earth to Y/N," Steve called. "You still playing?"

"What? Yeah," you answered, blinking at Steve. "What did I miss?"

"Byers here has never done drugs," Billy told you, watching you expectantly. When you didn't touch your cup, he snorted and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush.

"My turn," Steve said. "Never have I ever flirted with a married person."

Billy was the only one to take a shot for that turn.

"Why am I not surprised?" You echoed, fixing Billy with an unimpressed look.

"I can't help it if everyone knows I'm hot shit," Billy told you, seemingly unconcerned.

"You're one of those things," you muttered, ignoring Billy's scowl. "Alright, never have I ever had a friends-with-benefits relationship."

Billy smirked at you before he downed his shot. "We can fix that, you know."

"You're the last person I'd want to fix that for me," you told him, even though it was mostly a lie. Would you and Billy actually have any semblance of a functioning, healthy relationship? Unlikely. Would it be hot as hell while it lasted? Most likely.

You were able to take your first shot when Nancy admitted she never got stitches. You noticed Jonathan quirking an eyebrow at you in surprise, but you shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to get into the story.

You hated to admit it, but as the game progressed and you got to know the others a bit more, you started actually having fun. You had managed to down a couple of more shots, admitting to being drunk at a family event and then later confessing to going skinny dipping.

"Never thought you would have had it in you," Billy said. He swayed in his seat, bumping companionably into you. "You've surprised me, angel."

You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to fess up that the only reason you had gone skinny dipping was because you had been completely alone and didn't want to get your clothes wet. Still, when Billy shot you a pleased smile, you couldn't help but gift him with one of your own.

You noticed that, to your ultimate surprise, you all seemed to be bonding. You were all so different, but it seemed one dumb party game was enough to bring you together, if only for a small amount of time. If only because all of you had nothing better to do in that moment.

When Nancy admitted that she hadn't lied in the game, shooting a pointed look at Steve, you couldn't help but laugh when he begrudgingly drained his cup.

"Okay, so I have played hooky before," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I knew it!" You pointed at him accusingly, catching the amused grin on his face.

It wasn't all fun, though. When you admitted that you never lost someone, Billy and Nancy both somberly took a shot.

"I'm so sorry," you told them both. You knew Nancy must have been thinking about Barb. The aftermath of the discovery about Hawkins Lab and their involvement in Barb's death just a few weeks before had rocked the town. You knew that Barb’s absence had to be eating away at Nancy and couldn't imagine what it was like to lose your best friend.

You noticed Steve's arm come up to wrap around Nancy's shoulders as Jonathan reached out to grab her hand. You glanced away from them, giving them a moment of privacy, as you considered Billy. You couldn't help but feel curious about his loss, but you knew it wasn't your place to ask. Instead, you reached out to cautiously squeeze his shoulder, before you drew your hand back. He gave you a lingering look, his eyes dipping down and then back up, as if checking you out.

He cleared his throat, glancing over towards Nancy. "Alright, your turn Wheeler. What do you got?"

By the time the contents of Billy's flask were dangerously low, everyone was at least a little bit tipsy.

"Somehow, I doubt this was what we were supposed to do in detention," Jonathan said, glancing around at the group.

"Yeah, this has almost been nice," you reluctantly admitted.

"Enough for one more round left," Billy said, shaking the flask in his hand. He moved to stuff it back into the inner pocket of his jacket before he glanced at you. "Your turn, babe. Make it a good one."

You didn’t even bother to tell him not to call you that, since from the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew.

It was then you noticed everyone's attention on you. You bit your lip, struggling to think of something interesting, but not embarrassing, to confess.

"Never have I ever had sex in a car," you finally offered, shrugging your shoulders at Billy's incredulous look.

Only Steve, Nancy, and Billy ended up drinking to that. You glanced down to the shot in front of you before you looked to Jonathan.

"We can be losers together," you told him, holding out your cup towards him. "Cheers?"

You saw a brief smile flit across his face before he reached forward with his cup to tap it against yours.

"Cheers," he said before he drained his cup.

Once you downed your shot, you noticed Billy staring at you.

"What?" You felt suddenly defensive, not knowing why he was watching you so closely.

Billy startled, as if he hadn't realized he was still looking at you. "Nothing," he immediately denied, shrugging his shoulders. "Just don't get how you can be so boring."

"What?" It felt like your stomach dropped at his words, a cold wash of dread crashing down on you.

"You took the least shots out of all of us. You've done nothing," he added. "You just spend your days making all your little class notes and probably having wet dreams about acing your calculus exam."

You felt the good mood you had just moments before suddenly dissipate.

"Leave her alone, Billy," Nancy snapped. "What has she ever done to you?"

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked, leaning forward and watching you in concern.

"Fine," you said. "Just regretting thinking that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't such a dick for a moment."

"Oh," Billy breathed on a helpless laugh. "So, you do have some teeth. There's the fight I was looking for."

"I would think you've had enough of fights," Jonathan told Billy, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I love fights," Billy argued. "Especially when I always win. Just ask Harrington here," Billy continued, gesturing towards Steve. "Or did you forget I just beat the shit out of your boyfriend a few weeks ago?"

It wasn't long before an argument broke out. It seemed that Billy just couldn't help riling up the others. You sat at the desk, picking at the side of your paper cup, and wished that detention was over. All you could think about was Billy calling you boring and thinking that you lived and breathed for nothing except school. You weren’t sure why his words stung, but they did.

You jumped at the sound of the library door slamming open, Himbry standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"I can hear you kids yelling from just down the hallway. What the hell is going on in here?"

"Nothing, sir," Billy said, reaching into his jacket and pulling his sunglasses back out. He put them on, smirking at Himbry as he leaned back in his seat. "Just having a little friendly conversation."

Himbry snorted as he walked farther into the room. You noticed Nancy hastily reach out to grab the other paper cups and stack them again before hiding them beneath her chair.

"I know better than to think there's anything friendly about you, Hargrove. I've had to suffer through having all of you in my school for some time now. You think I don't notice things? I notice things!" Himbry's face was starting to flush red in anger as his voice steadily rose. "You kids think you run this school, but you'll be out of here soon enough! And who's stuck here taking care of the next generation? Me," he hissed, pointing a finger at Billy.

"Uh, Mr. Himbry?" Nancy hesitantly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped. "I've had enough of this and I obviously can't trust the five of you to follow rules. So, you're each going to a study room and you're going to stay there, by yourself, until Saturday detention is over."

"Fine by me," you muttered, already moving to grab your stuff.

A couple of minutes later, you were back in the study room you had retreated to for solace earlier that day. You went back to trying to shade in your paper, hating that Billy Hargrove of all people had managed to get under your skin.

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, glaring down at the progressively-darkening paper in front of you, before the door to your study room opened.

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping it was Himbry telling you it was time to go home, but to your surprise it was Billy standing just inside the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders before he pulled his sunglasses off. "I was thinking," he said, moving to sit down in the chair beside yours.

"I didn't say you were welcome here," you reminded him.

"Come on, Y/N," Billy said, grinning at you. "You can't tell me you weren't a little excited to see me here."

"I'm not excited to see you here. Get out," you told him, already turning away from him.

"Hey," he called, his tone softer than before. He reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist, tugging until you faced him again. "I wanted to apologize."

"What?" You blurted, thrown for a loop by his words. "You can't be serious. Are you just making fun of me again?"

"No," he insisted. "God, this is why I don't tell people I'm sorry. They always give me shit for it."

"You have to admit it's a little unexpected given your track record," you couldn't help but point out to him.

Billy brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous smile on his face that looked remarkably out of place. You were used to Billy practically oozing an obvious charm that he bestowed on anyone he thought he could get into bed. Otherwise, he was almost hostile, picking fights and mostly winning them. A nervous and awkward Billy Hargrove wasn’t something you thought you would ever witness.

"You know, I've seen you around school before. You get this smile on your face when you think no one's looking. Like, you're away in your head and anywhere else other than this shithole. It's nice," he said.

"You've noticed me? I thought you were too busy being too cool for someone as boring as I am."

"Oh, I've noticed you," he confirmed with a nod of his head. "And I shouldn't have called you boring. But I just always thought you were too good for me. You’re going to graduate top of the class and go to some fancy university in a big city. You’re better than Hawkins and you’re better than me."

"Maybe I am and maybe I’m not," you said, rolling your eyes. "But maybe if you stopped being such a dick to me, then you'd find that out for yourself. Maybe if you actually got to know me, then you would know that I have more to offer than my good grades."

Billy narrowed his eyes at you before a self-satisfied grin broke out on his face. "Alright, then," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We've still got at least an hour locked in here. What do you say to getting to know each other a little better?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Just talking?"

Billy held his hands up, palms facing towards you. "Just talking," he promised, even though the smirk on his face did nothing to convince you he wasn't lying.

You thought that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't capable of being alone in a room with a girl without making a dozen innuendos. You thought Billy Hargrove would have hit on you relentlessly or tried to goad you into doing something more than having a conversation. You thought Billy Hargrove would rather eat his own shoe than spend over an hour with you alone, simply talking and getting to know each other better.

Billy Hargrove managed to surprise you.

During your time together, you learned that the loss he admitted to earlier during the game was his mom.

"She didn't die or anything," he told you, shrugging his shoulders as if unbothered by what he was saying. From the pained look in his eyes, you knew that he still obviously cared a lot. "But she ran out on me and I haven't seen or heard from her since. Left me in a pretty shitty situation," he confessed, carefully not looking at you. “She’s as good as dead to me now.”

"I'm sorry," you said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"Whatever," Billy breathed, his expression smoothing out. "So, what did someone like you do to end up in here?"

You normally wouldn't have wanted to fess up, but after Billy had practically bared his soul for you just moments before, or as close to it as he ever got, you couldn't help but want to trust him with something of yours.

"I threw a book through Mr. Himbry's office window. Smashed it."

"What? That was you?" Billy looked almost impressed as he finally looked at you again. "Why the hell did you do that?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I was going to fail gym. I told him it was a bullshit requirement, but he wouldn't listen to me. I guess I got angry. He said the only reason I wasn't expelled was because I was top of the class."

"A hothead, huh?" Billy chuckled, an expression that looked a lot like fond amusement appearing on his face. "I can respect that."

As more time passed and Billy revealed more and more of himself to you, you couldn't help but wonder if he was ever this open and candid with anyone else.

You talked about favorite movies and teachers you both hated. He told you about his car and you bemoaned your lack of one. You told him about some of your favorite books and he shared some memories about his favorite places in California.

By the time the end of your detention was approaching, you felt like you had gotten to see a side of Billy Hargrove that no one else was allowed to.

"So, hey," Billy started, tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. "I was thinking I could help you out."

"With what?" You asked, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.

"With some of your answers to that game. Or, I mean, lack of answers," he amended. "You barely got to participate. It's a little sad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not having sex with you in your car just because I've never done that before." Even if it is a nice car, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

He laughed, sounding genuinely amused by your words. "That's not what I had in mind," he muttered before he leaned forward in his chair. He reached out, tipping your chin up towards him, before he brushed his lips against yours. "This okay?" He quietly asked, pulling back only enough to meet your gaze.

You nodded your head, pulling him back towards you. It was strange to think that you started the day dreading the sight of Billy Hargrove and now you felt almost breathless with anticipation while he was pressed so close to you.

One little Saturday detention had somehow managed to change your opinion of him. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you really didn’t hate the turn of events that ended up with his lips pressed to yours and his fingers carding through your hair.

The next time the door to your study room opened, it really was Himbry.

"Enough!" He snapped when he caught you and Billy making out. "It's bad enough that you two ended up in Saturday detention in the first place, but it’s even worse that you just couldn't respect my rules for even one day." He sighed, sounding oddly defeated. "Detention is over. Get out of here. I'll see you two here next Saturday." As he turned, you heard him mutter under his breath. "Honestly, between these two and the other three, I'm starting to wonder why we even bother with Saturday detention anymore."

When you turned back towards the table, you caught Billy looking at you.

"What?" You couldn't quite read the look on his face, but it had you shivering in your seat.

"Nothing," he answered as he reached forward. He pressed his thumb just under your jaw, a smirk on his face. "Looks like I helped you out with something after all."

You remembered his biting kisses to the skin he was considering with an intent in his eyes that you couldn't help but melt at seeing. You also remembered admitting earlier that you had never before gotten a hickey.

"You're something else," you muttered, moving to gather your stuff. You briefly wondered if you would be able to hide the love bites Billy had gifted you with, but a part of you really didn’t want to.

You left the study room, aware of Billy trailing right behind you.

When you looked up, you noticed Nancy righting her blouse just outside the study room she had been confined to earlier. Steve and Jonathan were just right behind her, talking softly to each other.

It was then you suddenly understood Himbry's words from just moments before. You quirked an eyebrow at Nancy when she realized she had your attention and she blushed in response, shrugging her shoulders. You grinned at her before you mimed zipping your lips shut. She shot you a grateful look before turning towards Steve and Jonathan.

"Told you," Billy whispered in your ear.

You glanced at him over your shoulder before you shook your head. “You better not go spreading that around school,” you warned him. “It’s not yours to tell.”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, but from the expression on his face, you hoped he agreed to keep his mouth shut.

You walked out of the library, already dreading the walk home. You pulled your jacket back on, knowing that it would likely be freezing outside.

When you opened the front doors to the school, you shivered at the blast of cold air that greeted you.

You hastily tugged your gloves back on and pulled your jacket tighter around you. You only made it a few steps away from the front doors before you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your jacket.

"Hey, nerd," Billy called, an almost affectionate tone to his voice. "Let me give you a ride home. You'll catch pneumonia walking in this cold."

"And you care?"

"Just get in the car, Y/N," he groaned before nodding over towards his blue Camaro.

You watched him step towards his car before sending you a questioning glance over his shoulder. You moved to follow after him, feeling a little exhilarated as you ducked into the passenger seat.

The car ride to your house was filled with an almost awkward silence. You weren't really sure where you stood with Billy now that you weren't sentenced to spending time together. Were you friends? Something more? Surely friends didn't make out with each other, right? You had certainly never given any of your friends a hickey. But were you dating? Were you anything other than a Saturday detention fling to Billy?

By the time Billy pulled into your driveway, you had managed to almost convince yourself that the connection you thought you had forged with Billy was tenuous at best. He would probably never speak to you again past today and the thought hurt, even though you knew you didn't really have any claim to him or his time.

You moved to get out of the car. You hated that he wasn't saying anything as you pushed yourself out of the car and closed the passenger side door shut behind you.

"So, Y/N," Billy called, looking at you through the open passenger window.

"Yeah?" You pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering at the chill in the air.

"Can I call you some time?"

You felt your breath hitch, your knees going a little weak at the expectant look on his face. He looked as if he was looking forward to the idea of speaking to you again.

"Sure," you answered, trying to keep your tone even. If you let him know just how eager you felt for more of his time, then he wouldn't let you live it down.

"Great," he said, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He shook one out before he placed it between his lips, his gaze going to you as he lit the end of the cigarette with a lighter he pulled from the glove compartment.

You weren't really sure if you were supposed to leave now, but you couldn't help but say one more thing before stepping away from the car.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the next Saturday detention," you reminded him. A part of you really hoped that it was only going to be you and Billy there. You relished the idea of having Billy all to yourself.

He smiled at you, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth to breathe out a cloud of smoke.

"It's a date," he agreed.

#nellblazers80schallenge #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove/reader #stranger things x reader #reader #stranger things fanfiction #love's strange fic #my edit

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

Detention time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: They're high school students, Reader gets a detention and Dean, not wanting to be alone, joins them.

Warnings: Some insults, but nothing bad. Just two baddies idiots fooling around in school.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: My very first spn fic,,, I'm really excited about this!!!!! Although, a person with whom I talk of spn, would be surprised that my first fic isn't with Sam as he's my fav 😂, don't get me wrong, I love Dean too, but Sam- 👁️v👁️

"y/l/n, detention." A male voice announced which had basically become the anthem of the class considering how many times it was told, to her, or even, by the other troublemaker of the class, known as: Dean Winchester.

They both were called the detention duo, whether they'd have detention the same day or not, they'd always somehow have one in the same week.

But that day, only y/n had gotten one. The reason? Calling the teacher a moron, incompetent -and a bitch-, but she didn't hear it.

She'd probably have a nice trip to the principal, along with a possible one week exclusion.

She was...well known for her original words that would definitely be followed by a detention as soon as it was told.

Let's say that...she had her own behaviour that would make her ‘unique’.

This could kind of be seen as a show to the class, mostly from y/n's side, as all the teacher could say was a bit of complaining, and the famous sentences well known, to annouce the detention.

It was definitely funnier when coming from the teacher y/n just called a moron.

For Dean, it'd depend.

Sometimes it would be because he had called them a pussy, or just because the teacher had decided that he had annoyed them too much for its liking.

He'd even have the talent of getting detention when he was out of class.

So, thinking it'd be fun to bring back the detention duo, Dean decided to add his own spice to the party, doing it with another one, who hated him as much he hated y/n.

Dean would usually annoy him on purpose, but that time he just did it without realizing it, it had basically become a habit that he wouldn't even think of doing it, he'd already be doing it.

Not really any of the class could have predicted it, even if it hadn't become surprising coming from him at some point.

The hour had almost gone by calmly, and just a few minutes before the end were left.

But when Dean's remarks, and the lack of these because he wasn't doing anything was enough to the teacher, soon the whole class knew what was coming.

And, as if Dean hadn't fallen deep enough, he finished his answer with 'bitch'.

The final touch.

"Winchester, since I guess that you seem to have free time, and have disrespectful behavior, you'll be joining Saturday's detention, with a small trip to the principal beforehand?"

"Sounds good."

Result; both found themselves on a Saturday, each sitting at a spot across the room, not really knowing what to do.

As much as they were known as a duo, and possibly friends, y/n didn't like him a lot.

She was...kinda friend with his brother, Sam, but never really talked with Dean, even if they’d both been in detention quite a few times.

But Dean, just…being Dean, actually wanted them to be friends. He had tried multiple times to, somehow, have a chat that would last longer than one minute, which failed until now.

Today might be a good shot, and he's gonna try again, even if she might not be open to it.

Detention were a loss of time, they'd give either give you a stupid paper -which, by the way, wasn't even checked-, so whether you'd do it or not, they didn't care.

Or, in this case, they'd just have someone watch over you, they would have a glance, go out for a bit, come back later, or literally at the end of the detention…which could be the case right now.

They had left god knows where, leaving the "detention duo" to themselves, which didn't change much.

Whether the guy watching them was here or not, the room was so silent that you could hear a door opening from across the hall, even the first floor.

“You’re still going to be on silent mode, as usual?” Dean asked, glancing at the girl. “You could at least say hi, be polite, you know?”

“Fuck off Winchester.”

“I said polite, not asshole mode.”

“Since when am I supposed to talk nice to you as if we were pals?”

“You don’t necessarily have to be friends with someone to be nice, it’s just basics.”

“Well, I don’t really give a fuck about your basics. What about that?”

“Woah, chill. I was just trying to be nice, which you aren’t.” He muttered.

“Oh, because you’re nice? Aren’t you sitting in detention with me right now for calling the teacher a bitch?”

“He deserved it, and you kind of did the same thing as me, let me remind you of that.”

“He also deserved it, but, did I deserve to be annoyed by you though?”

“No, but my plan was totally different, I didn’t want to annoy you, on the contrary.”

“Hm, it seemed like it to me.”

“It’s just you seeing things that way instead of what they really are.”

“Oh really? You’re kidding, right Winchester?”

“Why would I be?”

“You’re always here, saying shit, that at some point it’s kind of complicated to know if you’re being serious or not.”

“I hate to admit that, but you’re...right, but just in a way, not completely. I can be serious if asked to.”

“Oh, because you can be? I never found you serious once.”

“Are you saying that I’m a fool?”

“I never said that, you just assumed it yourself right now.” She spat.

“No, I was just trying to guess what you meant when you said that you didn’t find me serious, that is all.”

“Oh, you should have told me. I thought you were trying to ask me how I was seeing you, and I just told it."

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can be...quite indirect sometimes? No?”

“I’m just pointing out the truth, what I think. What’s wrong with that?”

“What is wrong, is that it’s not necessarily what people want to hear from you, especially when they’re being nice, like with me.”

“I didn’t notice you were trying to be nice, you’re such an ass with teachers and some nerds that I didn’t even think there was an ounce of sweetness in your head.”

Touché.

“Well uh...people can be...nice, just because they’re, not really nice to some, and can seem...a bit intimidating, it doesn’t mean they can’t be nice to others.” Dean blurted out, desperately trying to find arguments.

“You’re a dick Winchester, face it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far to the point of being categorized as a dick, but okay, I can be...mean.”

“You forgot one adjective.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You sure?”

“...annoying.”

“There ‘ya go.”

“Is there anything else to add to the list of defaults you’ve noticed about me, or are you done?”

“Unless you want a four page long essay, I’m done...for now, at least.” Y/N said, tapping her pencil against the table. “Why? Do you want more? I can keep going, I have one week free.”

“No, I’m uh...I’m good.”

“Hm. I got nothing to talk about then, too bad.”

“There's a lot of stuff to say other than me.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. What we like, what we hate about these teachers, or even random stuff we have. I know you like to talk about me, but we can switch the subject.”

“Me, liking to talk about you? You’re kidding. You just annoyed me, and I responded to you.”

“You seem quite enthusiastic and well informed.”

“No, I was not.”

“If you say so.”

“There’s no ‘if you say so’, as I said, I was just splitting out facts.”

“...that, again, seemed to be interesting enough for you to waste five minutes.”

“I regret answering you in the first place now.”

“No, you don’t. You love talking with me, I know you do. You should feel honored to have Dean Winchester talking to you, I don’t do that with many people.”

“Honored what? You’re not a star, you’re just the school’s brat.”

“You’re not as innocent as I am, I could call you a brat too, but I’m staying polite.”

“Oh, because you were being polite? I didn’t notice, you should have told me, I would have tried to take things differently.”

“I’m being polite, since the beginning of the conversation. You just didn’t notice, as you said.”

“Okay, you were a bit more polite than usual.”

“That’s a great compliment, coming from you.”

“Probably the only one you’ll receive.”

“The only one? You sure? I’m kind of...handsome. So, you should have some things to tell.”

“Am I supposed to see it as a joke or not?”

“...it wasn’t a joke.”

“I thought it was, because you're mostly an ass to me, not a handsome guy.”

“I know you don’t make jokes usually, but I think it’s one, no? Come on, you can’t say I’m not as handsome as all of these actors you see at TV and all.”

“What am I supposed to say in that?”

“That you find me nice, and all, you know. I know you got lots of things to say.”

“No, and even if I did, why would you deserve to hear them?”

“Because it’s...about me? You had a lot of...not really nice stuff, so it shouldn’t be a problem to say the opposite, if you happened to think that way.”

“Do I look like I want to waste the week I have to say that?”

“Maybe.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come on, I’m not asking for a whole week, just like...a few days?”

“That’s even worse.”

“Okay, one day.”

“Less worse, but not better.”

“You don’t even have one day to spare for your favorite classmate? I’m charming, funny, nice...sometimes, I’m cool to hang out with, I got a nice brother, and plus, as we’re both Winchesters, it’s even funnier. I’ll pull him out of his books and drag him outside.”

“If I do agree, do I get to drag him outside too? I have to warn him though, I won’t be delicate.”

“You get to drag him outside, I’ll even let you do it, from start to end.”

“Then, I guess I can spare some time out of the free week I have.”

“Yeah, we don’t give a single fuck about the assignments.”

“Sam will help us on the last day.”

“True, we can threaten him too.”

“For once, you have good ideas.” She pointed out.

“What can I say? I’m a Winchester, so that’s pretty logical for me to be talented, creative and smart.”

“I said that you have good ideas, that’s all. I didn’t ask for you to brag about yourself.”

“You tempted me, and...by the way, since we’ll be stuck together for a week, might as well become less formal?”

“You mean...with our names? Me calling you Dean, and you calling me y/n?”

“That’ll be a great start.”

“It’s a bit weird though. I’ve always been calling you Winchester, it’s weird to call you Dean all of a sudden.”

“See it as a small privilege, not that many people get that chance.”

“Do any other people get the chance of getting annoyed by you?”

“I’m not annoying, just like to chat a lot. Come on, y/n, it’s not that hard to call me by my name, you gotta get used to it to preserve your privilege.”

“You’re lucky that the only knives we have here are plastic ones, and totally harmless. I would have already stabbed you by now.”

“You’ll be way too sad without me here.”

“Not at all Dean.”

“I doubt so, y/n.”

“I’ll have Sam with me to replace you.”

“Nah, not even Sam can. I’m Dean Winchester, no one can replace me.”

“I spent a lot of time with Sam, and it was as nice as when I’m with you.”

“You mean, book talk? That’s not what I call fun.”

“It’s more interesting.”

“It’s boring.” Dean said.

“Boring is what I say when I happen to be with you, which is right now.”

“Nah, you had fun.”

“Yeah, 1%.”

“I’m sure it’s a bit more than that, we've been here for one hour already.”

“Okay, 1,000001%. Is that better?”

“Not really.”

“I was being nice by adding all of these zeros.”

“It made it just a bit worse. It should have been 50% at least.”

“50% is a bit too much, would have given 20% maximum.”

“I guess it’s better than 1%.”

“I’m being generous, I gave 19% more.”

“I better get a piece of paper to remember it, it’s quite rare coming from you, I’m honored.”

“Watch out, I might get back on my decision to waste my precious time with you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going to be extra nice.”

“I’ll make sure to have my phone and record it, I might not believe it when I’ll happen to think about it a bit later.”

“I said that I was going to be nice, that applies for you too.”

“Fine, Dean.”

“See, it took one hour for us to get along, and for once, it wasn’t a bad detention. You even ended up calling me Dean.”

“If you say so, and yeah, it was better than usual. We should try to get another, but outside of the class, like being late three times when we get back next week, and maybe add something to not just get detention.”

“Yeah, ‘could be nice. Our parents are going to be pretty pissed off at that.”

“To be honest, did we ever care about that?”

“Not once, as long as I can recall.”

“Exactly.”

“It might get us kicked out at some point.”

“I never liked studying anyway, I won’t mind getting out of here.” She admitted.

“Who likes that?”

“Sam.”

“Oh, he’s always been a nerd. But, a nice one, and not really annoying.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of like us, but...a bit more strict. Bet 10 dollars he’s going to lecture us.”

“Bet.” Dean answered.

“Okay deal. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“They’re going to annoy us for that.”

“They said we’re out for a week, we’re just leaving early.”

“I guess it’s okay then.”

“Hell yeah it is. We have one week to waste ahead of us.”

“I’ve never enjoyed an exclusion that much before.”

“That’s normal, I wasn’t there to make it fun. Now we’ll spend these together, it’ll be a nice one instead of a useless one.”

“Let’s get to it then.” Dean announced, as he crossed the door after her, sneaking out to walk in the direction of the hallway.

Guess that detention wasn’t that bad after all.

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural dean #supernatural fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #jensen ackles x reader #dean x y/n #supernatural au

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smallblueandloud · 4 years

Note

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 for the writing ask- I AM SO SORRY I COULDNT STOP!!! xoxo

aaaah these questions look SO GOOD thank you so much <3 <3 for this ask meme, which will be open all weekend!

1. tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

i pulled open all of my WIP google docs for this and my laptop started whirring ominously, lmao. this is going to be a Little Long but i love talking about my wips so who cares!! (under the cut because EXCERPTS)

guys and dolls but gay - very, very casual rewrite of guys and dolls if sky masterson was a woman. i’m loving how chill i’m being about this one because it’s so much fun to not have to worry how i’m going to write lyrics in a not-weird way and just focus on the story. this one’s first because it’s theoretically closest to being finished.

sky, laughing: “oh? people. all the people you turn down every day. well, i imagine there’s someone out there that’ll catch your eye.”

sarah, stiffening: “...yes, there will be.”

sky: “and what might this person be like?”

sarah: “he will not be a gambler, for one.”

sky does not miss the pointed pronoun. “i’m not interested in what he won’t be, i’m interested in what he will be.” she sits down on the desk, in a pointedly masculine pose, and sets her fedora next to her - at her most Hot Queer, basically. “how will you know when he gets to you?”

my fic for the aos rarepair fic exchange - i can’t give any plot or ship details, for obvious reasons, but it’s 1.3k and i’m having fun with it!

steven roadtrip of destiny - canon divergent fic set at the end of steven universe future where steven goes on a roadtrip instead of... canon. it deals with some heavy emotions and it’s also a character study so it’s tentatively shelved until i get around to rewatching suf. but i am projecting on steven like crazy and it’s really, really cathartic. it’s taught me a lot about myself too lmao.

He’s never been anonymous before. He kind of likes it. It means he can fold his arms on the table and put his head down without Pearl worrying about his posture, or someone asking him if something’s okay.

In the last few months, he’s grown to hate people asking him how he’s doing, or if he’s okay. He always ends up lying, because he doesn’t want to worry them, and he ends up feeling worse.

Probably because it’s more of him supporting other people without supporting himself.

He should have told someone how he was feeling. He should have reached out. Sadie could’ve helped him. Lars would’ve listened. Connie would have hugged him and then found him the appropriate mental health professional.

(God, Steven wants a hug. Also the appropriate mental health professional? Whoever that would be.)

untitled aos fic - i don’t want to give a lot of details because :eye emoji: and also i don’t know much about what the plot of this is going to be anyway, lmao. but here’s an excerpt:

daisy “that actor who doesn’t shut up about data harvesting” johnson (@daisyquake) tweeted: two weeks :eyes emoji:

Elena Rodriguez | Seven Cents S2 Streaming On Netflix Now! (@yoyorodriguez) retweeted and added: the problem with being friends with daisy is that you SHOULD have some insight into what her tweets mean but you still have no idea

Fitz (@justfitz) retweeted and added: Try being married to her

untitled star wars twins fic - because i am a total and massive nerd. i’m just kind of stuffing everything i have feels about from the post-anh era into this and planning on figuring it out later? i’m really loving talking about the culture of alderaan (and the culture of the survivors) and also i just love writing luke and leia’s relationship... so much......

(no excerpt for that one because i’ve basically posted all of it in various posts lmao)

aos ds9 au - i’ve posted a LOT about this already and i want to keep the plot a surprise but fsk is in this and married and half the cast is aliens, what else do you need in life.

“Good morning,” says Jemma, coming into the room with her hair wet and her uniform crooked. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi,” says Daisy, turning her face up for a kiss. Jemma obliges absently as she walks past, looking around the room.

“Has anyone seen my hair clip?”

“No,” say Fitz and Daisy in unison.

and of course, last but never least in my heart, chapter 3 of the magnum opus - writing this is on hold until my brain decides to stop hitting me over the head at every possible moment, but there’s like... 2k written so far? it’s. it’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Coulson, and makes quick work of the right gauntlet. It’s only halfway through the left one that his fingers slow and he says, quietly, “Simmons designed these, didn’t she?”

She lets out a quick breath. “Yeah.”

He stays quiet for a few more seconds, finishing up the last of the straps, making sure they’re tight enough. Finally, he says, “She should be helping you with these.”

Daisy pulls her arms back and swallows down some words, or maybe a couple of feelings, or maybe a sob. “Yeah, well.”

2. tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

the last sentence of the magnum opus!!!!!!!!!!

no, lmao, i’m gonna try to be serious. i really, really want to write some librarians fic in the near future? also MORE OF THE SENSE8 AU. i’m DYING to write some stuff about that. especially sam’s cluster, for some reason? Let’s Make Him Suffer (Comedically)! one day i’m gonna finish that list of what cluster/situation each song is about and then it’ll be over for all of us!

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

i spent about eight months imagining a scene where riza hawkeye was really injured and mustang was holding her in his arms (basically the promised day scene but with more privacy) so does that count?

hmm, just for some other possibilities: glinda telling dorothy about elphaba, laura somehow seeing or speaking to natasha during catws, a good omens au of the good place (specifically the ”i don’t even like you!” / “you doooooooo” scene), kencyrath au of star wars (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE, except setting up the first scene alone would take 7k, but i want to talk about leia and luke and their MESSED UP TRUST ISSUES in this au).

oh, also, something about star trek tng where jean-luc and beverly and jack were in love and then jack died and picard left. more specifically a scene set during the pilot episode where jean-luc very cordially offers beverly the option to transfer off the enterprise, that he wouldn’t dream of holding it against her, and beverly very cordially telling jean-luc to go fuck himself. i want to write 30k of that broken triad. i want it so bad. i dream of that fic. maybe one day when i find myself with a completely empty month or two, i’ll binge all of tng and Write Some Stuff.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

since you and i have tww in common, i’m gonna do a tww fic! otherwise i’d have to reread literally every fic i’ve ever written, lmao.

(this is long but i put this post under the cut so i have RIGHTS. also consider this a sneak peek for the j/d fic in the sense8 au?)

“It’s okay,” says Helen. She sits for a moment in silence, seeming thoughtful. “The Congressman and I are in the same cluster,” she says eventually. “I’d- I supposed that’s easier on the Secret Service?”

“Yes,” says Donna. “The-”

She stops herself from saying anything further. President Bartlet and the First Lady aren’t exactly quiet about who’s in their cluster, especially with senior staff, but that doesn’t mean she should go talking about it in an unsecured room in LA, of all places.

To cover for her blunder, she gives up something else: “The same with Josh. They got really lucky with him, actually. It’s just him and me, so they won’t have to worry about anyone threatening the Chief of Staff through the barista in the local Starbucks.”

Helen looks up from the Ohio numbers she’d drifted back to, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “Josh is in your cluster?”

“Uh-” says Donna, feeling like national security wasn’t worth whatever she’s just blundered into. Oops. “Josh- Josh is my cluster, ma’am.”

She catches her mistake the second it’s out of her mouth, but Helen doesn’t call her on it, more focused on other revelations. “No wonder you two look at each other the way you do!” she says, sounding delighted. Donna shuts her eyes, praying for this to go away. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Josh - it’s just so, so complicated, and other people never think about how difficult it was. Still is.

i’m just... i really liked the idea of donna fumbling and having to reveal this to cover up for what else she was going to say? i don’t know why i’m so charmed by this. i think it’s because it would be impossible in the show - you can’t show what someone was going to say on television, not without a lot of setup and very careful scripting. it’s just a really fun situation to write about and i’m really proud of this conversation in general.

also helen santos was a dream to write and i love her a lot. i kind of want to write one of the fics in the series about her and her cluster solely because like... look at her. she’s a delight in literally every scene. i love her.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

daisy johnson!!! i love writing daisy johnson!!!! she is the most adhd character i’ve ever written and i literally just have to transcribe my own inner monologue and it works perfectly!!!!!

Swing shift: 1600 hours to 2400 hours. Daisy always ends up getting back to her quarters at like 0030 hours, when Jemma is asleep and Fitz is reading some kind of technical journal. Then she has to eat replicated pizza, alone, and freshly replicated pizza is actually pretty hot but it feels cold at that time of night, like, spiritually.

6. what character do you have the most fun writing?

...whoops i literally just answered that lmao. uh. i also really love writing sky masterson in the guys and dolls fic? she’s just weaponized hot queerness in a suit and i love her for it. she is intentionally trying to seduce this repressed lesbian and it’s really funny and also really hot of her and it’s so much fun to write.

also, i wrote chidi for the tgp fic and it was possibly the most fun i’ve ever had with a pov, although that was also because i was purposefully trying to mimic the tone of the show. i still think that line about michael and a grenade is, like, the funniest i have ever been in my life. but chidi’s panic was surprisingly easy to write? all of tgp’s characters have such STRONG voices, it makes writing fic ridiculously easy as long as you don’t get stuck on a plot for six months.

7. what do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? would others agree?

oof, this one is ALWAYS tricky. uh? uhh?? i’m going to ruin everything by saying this but i basically alternate between the same two sentence structures and i am really frustrated about it. i also alternate between the same two styles of endings and i always use the same beginning (set scene, main character pov, thoughts-as-exposition, back to scene).

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE i like to talk about emotions and relationships and character development!! i have my “queer subtext goggles” superglued to my face, lmao. i like to think about how characters must have felt about things in canon and how it must’ve influenced them. i like making people deal with the consequences of their actions, especially how it’s influenced they themself. i also just really, really like writing people who love each other, whether it’s romantic or platonic or anything in between. i just want them to be happy! i just want them to stick together! doesn’t matter what fandom, i stand by it.

#loudwithlaughter #sb and l rambles #sb and l answers #sb and l is writing #thank you for sending this in!!!!!#now for literally All The Tags lmao #aos ds9 au #verse: fitzskimmons thingy #fic: you're a candle in the window #verse: and it's golden #mcu ideas #tgp ideas #st ideas #fic: help me hold on to you #fic: on that bumpy road to love #jesus CHRIST that was a lot of tags #okay okay i'm pressing post now #this was such a delight thank you SO much for sending it!#the steven roadtrip of self discovery fic

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

You’re a WHAT

Kanene’s Notes:

I’m weak for carzy scenarios and glitter, so BOOOM!! Why don’t get these two things together??? :D)/ This fic marks the end of my break, I will be (trying to) going back to my old projects and probably won’t be writing for some weeks kjnhgfvghjkjhg. Wish me luck! <33

This wasn’t suppose to take so much to be written but I lost my PC and life got in the way :v Buuuut! I manage to finish it and I already count this as a victory! xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Remy and Roman. They’re friendos yay :3. Oh, and this is pretty crazy. Context: The morning after Black Friday when you’re grumpy and wanting to kick the society in the face. A LOT of swearing, Patton does not approve.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 2.900 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman thought himself as a really lucky human being. Unbelievable lucky.

It wasn't due to the apartment where he currently lived - Too much dull for his personal taste and space, getting even smaller from the day he admitted a messy, sassy and with sleep problems roommate, since Roman just started his musical career and couldn't afford an own house yet. - or the fact that was finally able to pursue his dream after years and years of just picturing, painting this moment on his future, only to find out his fantastic breathtaking and incredible goals weren’t nearly close of the cold reality, at least for now (Who would know that, after umpteenth days of hard studying and training he would need years and years of experience in order to even START wondering in get out of his partial-time job on that Electronic Store) or any other reason someone would be able to consider himself a receptacle of pure, brute luck, enlightened by the spotlights of the good, pleasant destiny...

... Or at least the most pleasant it could be in the horrible and exhaustive middle of the night after a whole day filled with his attempts to survive and treat respectfully the unmerciful, dirty jungle that humanity was at Black Friday. Something around fifteen hours working with massive hordes of unscrupulous zombies starved for a sale and able to even kill and die (more likely the first option) to get what they want and with souls (if they still got one) free of any slight sight of education, patience and morals to be inserted in a society which, as it seemed, was equally rotten as them. View point only proved as Roman was obligated to be working after his shift to "clean all the mess" - more like hide the bodies of exhausted warriors after such bloody battle. – the store because those sons of a...

"... Bitch, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!" The poor, frustrated employed shouted to nowhere specific, his face turning towards the sky, seeking in some way to show his all his hate to the cinematography - because this was too much coincidence to NOT be part of a movie or some random fanfic on the black hole that was internet - rain falling at full force leading the weather to became even more freezing as soaked them both with its cool, thick drops.

Anyway, what he was daydreaming about?

"Roman." Oh, yeah, the reason why he viewed himself as a truly lucky person. "My gurl, if you try to impersonate a fucking, dramatic, bitch crow in my ear even again, I swear in the name of my life juice bean that I'm going to KILL you with my bare hands and these sunglasses."

At least his best friend since, honestly, diapers, who coincidentally was his roommate and even more coincidentally, his coworker was just screwed as Roman himself. Which automatically made the duo less screwed, however equally pissed off, something that neither of them discovered if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

"Fuck you, Remy" Roman whispered between an tired yawn, too much tired to even think about some nickname or to put real heat in his words as he got instinctively closer to the other, the one called taking off his jacket and lazily throwing it over their heads, doing his best to cover they both with the small available black leathered fabric, the act intertwined with grumpy grumbling and motions which would probably slap Roman's face if he wasn't careful. "I'm the one who buys your coffee."

"Having my incredible, unique personality in your life should be motivation enough for you to buy me the entire Starbucks Company, be glad I'm weak to your cute face and am going easy on ya."

" 'Cute'? Excuse me, I'm the most handsome, hottest and fabulous man you will ever met in your lowly life, mortal."

Remy snorted at this "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe, but if it's going to be like that your ego soon will have to pay his part at the rent."

"Well, this 'ego' here was the only thing between your highness and jail after stopping you from committing all those murders today."

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use my contacts to hide the evidences." Their tune were already completely sleepy, bodies instinctively leaning onto each other as the words stumbled, mixed and almost lost themselves in the soundly wind as slipped from their lips. Roman just laughed.

"Well, if by ‘contacts’ mean 'Virgil' good luck getting him out of his bed on his free day. You would became the fucking new King Arthur." Roman rubbed his eyes, trying to physically force his eyelashes to not close, a new yawn finding its way to his mouth. He didn't even know about what they were talking anymore.

"I roll the dice to cast Badass Nerd Bitch."

“Logan??”

“He likes to study nature stuff, especially at night, I’m sure he already knows some good spots to hide bodies. Glasses.”

“Glasses?”

“Glasses.”

“OMG, the anime character with glasses.” Roman stopped, his mouth wide open as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him.

“Exactly.” Remy extended each syllable, grinning smugly.

“I’ve never-“

“THIS IS A ROBERY!!”

The sentence, which appeared to came out from nowhere, cut the air in a harsh, sharp tune, breaking the barriers and tying them up in the same place in a frozen position and wide eyes staring astonished the hooded form and their unreadable features under the bad illumination of the light poles helped by the increased storm. The wind trespassed them, stirring their clothes and making the muscles shake both of the alone employees in the middle of a dark, empty street at the dawn, even if the dangerously shiny knife directed towards their direction still in a hatred silence.

“My.” Roman knew he probably should be afraid, the freezing feeling running across his veins and frightening his brain and actions as infected his words in an unspeakable terror impossible to ignore nor escape. “fucking.” However, the only thing that slipped through his next was the purest, deepest, truest... “ASS.” Indignation.

Roman thought about a lot of things. He thought about running away, grabbing Remy’s arm and sprinting across the street, about scream in the top of his lungs the waterfall of swearing already racing half way to his throat and even about kicking the knife out of the other’s hands and then kicking him - with a couple of cool moves he saw in some actions films - together with their frecking audacity to try to rob him of all the people in the world. Roman, who asked himself if he would have enough money to eat in the next week with a concerning frequency, who wondered if this is the life he will have until the end of his existence, if he will ever be able to accomplish his dreams.

His gaze changed to Remy, who was paralyzed, trembling between the poor light of the street and the massive rain. Roman swallowed. Everything was in his hands.

For a piece of Roman felt the strange urge to spill to the figure before him the story of his life, all his tries, all his battles, his everyday fights to make his dreams real. Blow by blow. Day by day. A life destined to go after everything he wished to himself, everything he wanted to life, to experience, to savor, to do everything in his hands to ignore and one day maybe, hopefully forget all the ghosts - these ones always accompanied by those emotionless, sharp whispers - asking, doubting nonstop if he ever would be able to do all of this, if he was doing the rights thing, if it was really worth all of it.

However, before the first word even slipped of Roman’s tongue or his mind came fully back to Earth, Remy was already positioning himself strategically between the robber and his friend, the currently only one with the leather jacket falling on his shoulders. However, Remy didn’t seem nearly soaked as he should be, and for a heartbeat, the same one which Remy moved his hands to his jeans’ pocket, his fingers touching and firmly holding something there, Roman could swear that the unexpectedly shiver running across his spine wasn’t due the cold wind.

Nor the sentence hurled in the clouds.

“You know what?? Fuck it.”

And then he unsheathed his magic wand.

Roman loved with the entirety of his heart all kind of magic, he could easily spend an entire afternoon (which he already had, by the way) listing his favorites movies, musicals and stories with that theme. That also could be easily said by the thousands and thousands of worlds, universes and lifes he invented – in and out of his head - about the subject trough his childhood and handful of teenage years, random ideas and inspirations appearing and dancing in his mind until nowadays. If that only wasn’t enough to convince someone then the umpteenth memories of mornings and afternoons bathed in the smell of books, rocked by the calm silene of the public library as he turned one more page, his back lightly aching by the bad position assumed behind the shelters, in a place he strategically found and claimed as his own Bridge to Terabithia, enjoying every moment as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps you wouldn’t even need to swim in such deep, ancient waters to find out his love, since at least fifty percent of his day was dedicated to shout, hummer or murmur Disney songs.

However, as rays of pure energy - shiny and kind of glittery one - involved and swirled from Remy’s, who now was floating a few centimeters above the ground, wand in stripes that got lighter and lighter, begging to spin faster around the aforementioned, creating a spere of a power stunning and big enough to stop the rain in the corner.

The silence resulting from the lack of the storm didn’t had the opportunity to fill the moment, being obligated to give its space to a soft, intense melody whispered in their ears. The notes standing some more moments in the air, the beating following the changes in the shadowed figure inside the spere. Hesitations taking over the loud, quick heartbeats when the song finally stopped.

The power’s spere finally exploded, the impact leading to an unbelief and intensive force push both human meters away.

“Get. Out.” Remy’s tune still the same, his form – Now adorned by a gleaming crop top, his fluttering skirt over shorts floating in synchrony with the veils which surrounded his clothes and wrapping his arms, the ending spreading in the air as a bunch of angry powered and fancy snakes. - even with the new vestments full of glitter (this probably would be a hell to get off, later) still the same, his gaze, powerful – a new meaning pouring from this word – strong, still the same. But yet…

Yet his wide eyed, heart hammering in his chest friend since he could remember found himself struggling to connect the same Remy who he had known – if he could still say that? - all his life with the same being who gleamed dangerously before him.

The magic wand danced in a quick flick and a trash can came of what seemed nowhere to hit the wobbled and absolutely terrified robber, who fell with a soft thumph in the ground, unconscious.

“-man, Roman!!! Don’t just stay standing there like a tree, help me here, gurl!” Suddenly the called snapped from his own sea of thoughts, submerging and astonished blinking in Remy’s direction. The rain started to fell on them again, and when their eyes met, when Roman saw the same guy who spent afternoons climbing trees and pretending they were knights and dragons attacking or saving the world, when he recalled the silent sleepovers where they just sat near of each other enjoying the mutual company, the grumpy mornings in their apartment, the comfort hugs, the looks full of words, the smiles filled with meaning, the friendship stuffed with so many, many memories...

Nostalgia. The feeling that everything was changed albeit something… something important always stayed. Roman felt, truly felt it and fixed his glare into that brilliant – quite literally - glare adorned with a ‘I’m about to punch your cocky face if you keep fucking narrating every freaking second of your life, ya bitch’ he realized...

It was Remy.

He took a deep breath, moving closer and gradually relaxing as the aforementioned focused in trying to lift the guy, swearing more frequently than raindrops fell from the sky.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“First crush.”

The other stopped, frowning confused. Roman didn’t quiver, feeling he deserved some sort of answer. At least about this. “What?”

“My first crush. Who?”

“Kovu.” Remy maybe was a bit cold hearted, maybe he wasn’t the best with human interactions or knew exactly what Roman wanted with that… but he knew Roman enough to realize this was important. Essentially when the said seemed to relax, his form untensing itself and being allowed to get closer of the magic being.

“Okay. Okay, okay…” Roman took a deep breath, grounding himself. Their gaze met, his next words coming a little calmer. “Okay.”

“Please don’t make me sing that serenate you made for him. I’m gonna fucking quit.”

“Oh, shut up!! Our first love is something special, mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-The-Beast-And-The-Beauty.”

Remy decided to ignore the words, slightly lowing his sunglasses with his special Judgmental ‘Bold of you to assume I have enough shame to be mocked’ Look. Roman just flipped in his direction, taking advantage that the other’s hands were occupied.

It was still Remy, with a whole more of style and glitter – Why are there so much glitter here?? - but it was just Remy. Like just any other day.

Before he even realized, Roman was already at his friend’s - and as it seems a magical being - side, helping him to carry the robber’s body to somewhere dry so he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

“Why don’t you- Ouch!! My feet, dammit!” His breaths came out as puffs, the effort leading to his already exhausted muscles only protest even more and very much probably curse him later with sore movements for the audacity to transport anything heavier than a pen. “Why don’t you use your... Wizard magic or something to carry him??”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Roman, you are sooo intelligent, why aren’t you in Harvard? Ow! Ow! Ow!!” Remy’s sarcasm was cut when the other kicked, or did his best to with their actual position, him in protest. “Homophobic.” He exhaled a mix of irritation and a snort, receiving a playful punch in his arm by their inside joke. “I’m your Fairy Godmother, brainless. Unless it was you laid in this stupid, cold ground I can’t use my magic anymore... Except if this is someone of your family but I doubt-”

“Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!!! YOU ARE MY FAIRY GODM-”

“No, no way, nope, we are NOT having this conversation right now.” Remy, the Fairy Godmother let go of the unconscious body in a way that probably will make the guy wake up sore, perhaps with a concussion even, directing his index finger in Roman’s direction in a deep, determined stare full of darkness and things that Roman could swear would make Remy be expelled from the group of Friendly Fairy GodmotherS or whatever... thing he was inserted. “Let me tell you what we are doing right now: We are going to home, change our clothes then I’m getting coffee and you will get sleep so I don’t have to face nor care about the freak consequences of my damn actions.”

...

“That...” Roman stop, as if was considering his next words. Remy’s face just scrunched in a bigger, firmer frown. “That would be hella scary if you didn’t look like someone who just stole a store of glitter and got attacked by the gay, glitterly, shiny fairies who protected the place.”

“Go fuck yourself. I’m locking you outside when we get there.”

“Noo, please don’t! My evil stepmother didn’t let me go to the prince castle and now I need help! Crying emoji, crying emoji.” Roman mocked, imitating sad sobs and sniffles as quick his pace to follow the other, who flipped him.

“I’m this far from knock you out with my magical wand and then you will see who is the evil stepmother.” His wand gleamed in warning, the red color getting mixed and trembled by the fast movements of his veils, one of them getting dangerously next to Roman’s face, who cleverly got silent for some heartbeats, the sound of the rain slowly calming their heartbeats and rocking them, the tiredness gaining the space which, piece by piece, was being unhanded by their adrenaline.

They arrived home, both still quiet, feeling free as a relieved sign left their lips. Remy threw his soaked jacket in some dark corner, the bed being the only thing which was allowed to take over all his thoughts and will.

An awed gasp echoed behind him and he immediately regretted his move.

“YOU HAVE WINGS????”

Before his eyelashes closed, the shiny of the wand disappearing gradually as an ungodly amount of sleepiness gained complete control over his body, relaxing each one of his fibers and as a warm, magic good feeling fills every single cell in his being, Roman wondered if ‘Fuck it’ was the name of Remy’s spell.

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asoftervirge · 4 years

Text

Of “Love” & Murder - (8/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Intelligence is Lethal and Deadly

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Murder, Arsenic Poisoning, mentions of Lying, mentions of a False Past, brief mention of Alcohol, minor Religious Allegory, introduction to Janus Sanders CHAPTER SUMMARY: Logan tells Patton all about his death.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And now, the death of Logan! Plus, we get the introduction to the last of Virgil’s spouses! :D Not a lot of triggers for this chapter, but it’s still a death chapter, so please take care of yourself if you decide to keep going! And in case anyone was wondering, Logan’s death was inspired by an Italian novel, and actual arsenic poisoned books that are currently housed in the University of Denmark. Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton’s heart dropped to his stomach. Like with hearing the method of Roman’s murder, his face grew pale and his hands started quaking. He could swear that his legs were also buckling and quaking underneath of himself.

“You—” he almost didn’t know what to say. “Y-You were poisoned?!”

“I hadn’t realized my sentence has fallen upon deaf ears,” Logan’s mouth twists into something almost cruel. “After hearing of Roman’s ultimate demise, I did not realize that hearing Virgil is capable of committing such horrific and murderous atrocities is still hard so conceive.”

Again, Logan didn’t have to be mean about it, but it’s true! Even after hearing Roman explain how he was murdered; Patton was still in some form of denial. He’s been seeing Virgil for over a month now, and he’s just now discovering the truth about him? It was like he was in a nightmare! And, in a way, he is; a nightmare where he isn’t sleeping, which seems to be much worse.

He didn’t have it in him to ask how, he didn’t even know if he could. Poisoning was poisoning, it was so linear that there is almost no need for an explanation. And yet, Logan was willing to give him one.

“It appeared to be a normal day for the two of us. We woke up together, made and had breakfast, then spent some time by ourselves— I was working on essays for journals and drafting a possible novel idea. Virgil isolated himself upstairs in his office doing whatever he tended to occupy himself with— but that didn’t mean we did not spend quality time together. We would have afternoon tea, then then dinner, and after that we would spend some time reading in the library before we would go to bed.”

“It was very unexpected,” the novelist’s frown grows deeper. “Virgil seemed…almost normal, as normal as a murderer can be. I failed to see him poisoning my possessions, I failed to any murderous paraphernalia in the manor, and most importantly, I failed to see the truth behind all the niceties. I failed to see how I had fallen into the trappings of evil.”

Patton’s heart sunk lower in his body. Logan’s fancy way of words almost made is seem crueler.

Xe continued on. “I was here in the library, simply enjoying my novel when he came in with a tray of drinks and snacks. Then he left and returned with a box for me, a box containing my favorite work by Agatha Christie. One could say that I was touched by what he had gifted me. I absorbed myself in the novel, but I slowly started to have an upset stomach. I drank my tea in hopes that would help me, but then an unbearable pain quickly took hold of my being. Sweet-sounding words were then cooed into my ear, but they didn’t hide any cruelty. And finally, blackness.”

…

Virgil shuffled about the kitchen, humming a tune under his breath as he finishes preparing drinks for himself and his new spouse Logan, French press coffee and green tea respectively. The kitchen still faintly smelled of the dinner they had just had together moments before, a dish that was a particular favorite of the novelist.

(Even though xe was going to die soon, he figured he would give xem the same treatment he did his first husband. Minus the whole drowning and choking, that is.)

He also got started on biscuits and cake for themselves, grabbing dishes of butter, marmalade, chocolate sauce, and jelly spreads— which was an unabashed weakness of Logan’s.

All that was needed was one more finishing touch.

He made his way upstairs and into his office. Sitting on his desk was a decorative box, but he wasn’t focused on that just yet. He rummaged through the drawers before finally finding what he was looking for.

It was a small bottle filled with a white powder.

Any normal person might confuse it with everyday things like flour or baking soda, but Virgil knew exactly what it was and what it was used for.

Smirking, he grabbed the bottle and the box before taking them back down to the kitchen.

He opens the bottle, making sure he doesn’t inhale any of the toxins, before dumping some into Logan’s tea. He quickly puts the bottle away before stirring the contents together so it would dissolve.

When it did, he finally carried the tray to the library where he knew his second partner would be.

Sure enough, Logan was reclining in one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. One hand was holding xyrs book securely so it wouldn’t fall out of xyrs lap, while the other was perched on xyrs chin. Xyrs dark blue eyes were looking at the text in deep fascination.

Virgil couldn’t help but peak down and look at the cover.

Cosmos by Carl Sagan.

He liked talking about stars and constellations and whatnot with Logan every now and again, but sometimes he would get annoyed because the novelist would drone on and on. He often wondered how xe was able to do that publicly, every single day and not annoy people. Then again, the panels and conferences they would attend (much to Virgil’s chagrin) would often have people that shared in xyrs interests.

In a way, xe almost reminded him of Roman, what with how he would talk about Disney and Broadway musicals all the time. The only difference was he didn’t hear singing constantly coming from the novelist’s mouth, if any for that matter.

(Such a minute thing almost made Virgil miss the late actor…almost.)

A soft clearing of his throat got Logan’s attention.

“Ah, Virgil,” Xe sits up a little straighter and closes his book, but not without putting a page-marker in it. “How are you this evening, my moonlight?”

Despite his dark motivations, Virgil couldn’t help the tiny blush and faint growl. Damn this nerd for saying something so simple yet making it affectionate at the same time!

He quickly recovered however. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, starshine.” He says as he sets the tray down on the table beside Logan. He moved closer and gave him a small pinch to the corner of his lips. (This was their special way of expressing love to each other since neither were very affectionate people). “Reading anything special?”

“Nothing that I already didn’t know about,” xe tells him, showing him the cover. “But it’s still an exciting read regardless.”

Virgil hummed. “Well, I’ve brought some tea and biscuits for us before bed. I even brought your favorite jellies because I know you can’t resist.” He snickered at the noise Logan made. “I’ll be right back, just have to get something else from the kitchen.”

“Alright.”

His devious smirk returned as he slipped out of the library and back into the kitchen where he left the box. He grabs it and returns to see Logan still preoccupied with his current book.

The wealthy man cleared his throat once more, signaling that he came back.

Logan looked up. “Oh, you’ve returned.” Xe noticed the box Virgil was holding. “What is that you’re holding?”

“Just a little something special for you,” he says with a sweet-looking smile. “Here. Open it.”

Setting down xyrs book and taking the box, Logan opens it and is surprised by what was inside.

“Is— Is this a copy of my favorite Agatha Christie novel?” xe asks in astonishment as xe pulls out the copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. “I-I…I don’t even know what to say…”

“Maybe a thank you?” Virgil snickered.

Logan cleared xyrs throat, faintly blushing in embarrassment. “Y-Yes. Yes, I suppose— Uhm. Th-Thank you for this, Virgil. It is a very thoughtful gift coming from you.”

“Anything for my new spouse.” He gives him another pinch before taking his mug of coffee.

No more words were spoken between the two as they read from their respective novels. The only sounds made were the crackles of the fire and the occasional turn of a page.

Virgil couldn’t help but look to see how Logan was fairing. He watches with a hint of amusement as the novelist was more absorbed in this book than the last. He hadn’t even touched his tea yet!

Although he wanted to frown at that, he didn’t.

He knew better.

The time will come eventually.

What he did notice was that Logan read (or maybe skimmed?) the pages then lick at xyr fingers before flipping to the next one.

Virgil hid his victorious smile within his mug. He sprinkled the corners with that exact same powder he dumped into the tea, so at least xe were ingesting it. But it wasn’t enough to garner a true reaction out of xem just yet.

He goes back to his book, but still looked up at his spouse every now and again.

Things started to get interesting sometime after.

Logan let out a quiet grunt, which wouldn’t be a big deal had it not been for what Virgil had done to the book and tea. He watches as the novelist tries to play it off.

“You okay there, starshine? Got a headache or something?” He feigned concern, watching his second victim for any tell-tale signs that the poison was slowly taking effect. He then sees xem drinking xyr tea, hoping that would help ease his pains.

That only made things worse, however.

Logan began to cough, and again, it wouldn’t be something to worry about had it not been for the blood that appeared on his hand.

“Are you sure you’re alright, L? That was a pretty hard cough.” Virgil continued to fake his concerns.

Logan coughed again, waving him off. Xyr hands started to shake as xe brought xyr cup to xyr lips. “Y-Yes,” xe reassures. “I-I’m alright, Virgil.”

Xe think xyr fine. How adorable. Virgil had done his research; it takes about a half an hour for an eighth of a teaspoon to kill someone. He put in a little more than that, just for good measure.

Virgil kept staring at his spouse, watching every little thing that went on. It was intriguing, if he were to be honest.

Preoccupied with his dark thoughts, he didn’t realize Logan’s eye roll into the back of xyr head, and only became aware of his surroundings when he heard the thud of his spouse hitting the floor, a book falling right beside xyr body, and xyr glasses flying of xyr face.

With a smirk, the widower slid down to the floor, holding Logan’s head in his lap. He pets xyr hair, the very thing he remembered the novelist doing to him when he (pretended to) have anxiety and panic attacks. All the while he whispered quietly, knowing Logan would hear but wouldn’t respond to.

“Oh, Logan. My brilliant but naïve starshine. I think I forgot to tell you something. There might have been a little…surprise in both your tea and your book. Yep, a surprise. What was it, you might be asking? Well, if you hadn’t already deduced it— and I doubt you have— it was a bit of arsenic that I keep in my medicine cabinet.”

He chucked sinisterly while Logan seized in his arms, all the while, petting xem like xe were some sort of sick puppy.

“How does it feel, Mx. Oxford? To know that your death was caused by the two things that had meant the absolute world to you?”

Logan jerked violently, foam starting to slip past xyr lips. Virgil laughed.

“The minute I heard you come into my old bookstore, it seemed like a sense irony was on my side. And you were such an easy target too! All I had to do was debate with you, butter your ego up with flattery and you followed me like a schoolboy getting praise from a teacher.”

Virgil’s smirk grew wider, almost to where he was smiling.

“Too bad it wasn’t gonna last. Like I did with Roman— you’ve heard about him, haven’t you? The Scarlet Rose from my first marriage? — I had to get rid of you eventually. And now, I am.”

Logan’s body jerked violently again, foam now pouring out of xyr mouth and down xyr chin. Xe kept coughing, blood turning the foam pink and red in places where blood clots came out.

“Now, just sleep, Logan. Sleep and dream of those oh so wonderful constellations you kept ranting about to me~”

Suddenly, after Virgil’s last coo, the novelist stilled. The blood and foam slowly stopped leaking out of xyr mouth, but xe already drench the now two-time widower’s hands in red.

Virgil fished cleansing wipes out of his pocket and cleaned his hands as best he could. He knew he would have to get the peroxide out later. Right now? He was going to finish reading his book.

Allowing Logan’s head to thump to the carpet underneath, he stood up and simply sat back down in his leather chair, acting as if nothing had happened.

He flipped the page and chuckled at the short story he turned to.

Edgar Allan Poe’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue.”

Devilishly ironic.

Name: Logan Oxford November 03, 1954 - April 18, 1978 Cause of Death: Arsenic Poisoning Accidental Suicide

…

Patton felt tears burning his eyes once more as Logan finished his recollection. The novelist looked down at the floor, xyr hands were behind xyr back so the confectioner couldn’t see how they were shaking in slight rage.

He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say anything. All he did was sniffle and wipe his tears.

“I was stupid to play it off as nothing,” Logan says, a cold anger slowly seeping into xyr voice. “I should’ve recognized the symptoms of arsenic poisoning.” Xe huffed something akin to a laugh. “It’s indescribable…watching your spouse place your head in his lap and pretend to comfort you in such a sickening way. All the while telling you it was his intention to kill you.”

First with Roman, and now Logan?… He still can’t imagine it, it all sounded so horrible.

Suddenly, something that the novelist said resurfaced in his mind.

“Wait,” he says with a small crack in his voice. “Did you say…Virgil worked in that bookstore?!”

Logan nodded. “That’s what I hypothesized from his words. He didn’t seem all that comfortable with being there the first time we had met, last I recall.” Xe tell him. “While it is not a lot of evidence, there is no way he wouldn’t say that to me— as I was dying, mind you— if it wasn’t anything but the truth.”

All of this was changing everything for Patton.

Virgil originally worked in a bookstore? He lied to him from the first moment they met? His heart was slowly breaking. If this was just one thing Virgil lied about, then how many more lies did he tell him? And, most importantly, how many of them did he fall for?

“I’m not one to beg,” the novelist tells him. Xe looked at him with a small hint of desperation in xyr dark blue eyes. “But you must leave this place at once, Patton. We are warning you because we do not want another person to fall prey to Virgil’s inhumanity.”

Patton was surprised by how tiny his voice became.

“Logan—”

“I’ll have you know that we are not saying this to scare you,” Logan’s eyes sharpened, causing the confectioner to coil back in surprise. “We all have been flattered by his smooth praises, compliments, and other methods of blandishment. He made us feel good, made us feel more appreciated than how we were before we fell into his hands.”

The novelist’s shoulders slumped and now xe were looking at him tiredly. Xe were tired. Tired of all the emotions xe had suppressed while xe were alive. Now, they were finally breaching up to the surface.

“Listen to me, Patton. There is much more to your life than just having Virgil in it. You have accomplished so much before you met him, and you will be able to gain so much more if you leave.” Xe explain. “Love makes people do extremely irrational things. It makes them pull stupid actions, and this, is one of them. So please, heed our warning and escape this manor. Escape Virgil.”

“…I promise.” Patton says in a whisper, another one that had a lie burning underneath it.

Feeling satisfied, Logan nods and fades away. The fireplace flickers out the second xe vanished.

Two stories down and only one remains.

With a sigh, Patton leaves the library with a gentle shut of the doors (or as gentle as double-doors can close). He curled forward as he rested against them.

His mind was swimming with emotions, primarily those on the negative end of the spectrum. And despite the deep (very deep) desire to run and never look back, he still didn’t have it within him to do that just yet. He needed to know who the one in the suit was, what role did they play as Virgil’s last husband (or spouse), and how did the two-time widower destroy him too.

So, Patton forced himself to straighten up and made his way to the back of the manor.

Light shined from the glass door of the conservatory, sending him a small amount of comfort as he stopped in front of the walnut door. He looked up and down it, observing the serpentine engravings marked on it. Then, his gaze settled on the cobra-looking door handle.

After inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, he inserts the key and moved his wrist. It finally clicked open after a few minutes of jimmying with it. Feeling emboldened, he pulls the door back and walks inside.

It was an office, he realizes. A simple, yet fancy looking office.

The carpeted floor was a dark green as opposed to the dark blue ones in the library, and instead of silver embroidery, it was detailed in gold. The desk was mahogany wood and in front of it, were two black leathered seats.

A file cabinet rested against the wall right of the desk, and a glass tank (maybe for fish? reptiles?) rested left of it. A bar was to the left of the door, no alcohol was stocked on the shelves, aside from a crystal platter holding cups for vials of stock and whisky.

Behind the desk was a beautiful, ornate glass window that shined moonlight thanks to the parted dark green and gold curtains. Photographs hung in various places on the walls, many of them were newspaper headlines — headlines of famous court cases, many of them won.

Patton closes the door.

“My, my.” A deep, silky voice rings in the air. “It amazes me how an innocent little lamb continues to wander far from the comforts of Eden.” The confectioner shivers at the sound. “But I wouldn’t want to be a lost sheep forever. One must return to God soon, or he shall be slaughtered by the wicked Devil himself.”

Patton looks around to see where the voice was coming from, but he couldn’t find anyone. Then the leather chair slowly swivels around to face him.

The person sitting in it? Was the one in the third portrait.

The one in the suit.

“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Hart.”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Moxiety #Analogical #Anxceit #death tw #blood tw #poison tw #Of Love & Murder

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kinkymagnus · 4 years

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thoughts on alec? since this is mainly a magnus blog i guess i'm curious.

kfjlkfgjd thanks for resending sorry tumblr’s a bitch ily

eh i feel like generally i talk mostly about magnus bc Every Other Blog (not literally obviously but like, in general) talks about Only Alec just like…..24/7

so while i like him fine, he’s like, mostly Magnus’s Love Interest on my blog lghjflgkhjfgh but honestly just generally while i do like him i honestly don’t find him that….interesting, individually, i guess? i mean he’s not quite boring, but he’s not a character i really relate to

so the reason i don’t really write alec-centric stuff is like. 1. i just don’t find him as interesting (although i’ve had a few ideas, they’ll likely never be published thanks to…) 2. Spite

aka the alec stans suck. the Alec Stans™ to be clear, the ones who suck, not everyone who likes alec. but like, yeah

anyway let’s not just talk salt and me being petty, despite alec being not my fave i can afford to answer one (1) ask without my entire blog crumbling down and revealing i’ve been an alec stan this whole time without me even knowing it

ok so alec headcanons i guess

1. alec was a chatty kid. not what you’d think, right? but then like, he was taking care of izzy, bc she’s his baby sister and Protective, and jace wasn’t really the type to listen to him. like, ever. alec would suddenly realize jace hadn’t been listening the whole time pretty much every time he tried to have a conversation with him or talk about things he was interested in, even when he listened when jace talked about his latest crush or whatever he was interested in. alec started abruptly going quiet before his sentence was finished, and jace didn’t seem to notice or was just like oh good you’re finally done talking, here’s what i was gonna say. eventually alec gives up. he still talks to izzy but she’s so little it’s a lot slower paced and he usually pays more attention to her than what he wants to say bc Baby Sister. by the time izzy’s old enough to like, properly, hold a conversation (she is also pretty chatty) alec’s already gone a lot quieter. by the time we see him, he basically doesn’t initiate conversation on things he’s interested in that aren’t work-related. he does still sometimes talk to izzy, but it’s hard to get the words out and get everything sounding right, so he gets annoyed with himself. it doesn’t come as easy anymore.

and not to show my magnus stan roots but magnus is kind of similar, albeit way less clear cut, he tends to ramble and talk a lot about his special interests only to shut himself up when he realizes he’s definitely boring whoever he’s talking to (he isn’t, necessarily, but after enough times being told to shut up when you get excited you believe everyone wants you to shut up.) and then he was trying to keep up the whole classy unaffected stylish “def not an adorkable disaster bi nerd, i am dangerous deadly unaffected lothario man who has never even heard of star trek or whatever” facade, and rambling about whatever interested him didn’t really fit that. so he retreated more into himself, too. he did have his friends to talk to, but catarina is so busy and he doesn’t want to bother her and raphael doesn’t want to hear his foolish old dad ramble on, does he, and ragnor–he’d always put up with magnus’s babble, and listened, but magnus felt like he was boring him and then ragnor was–well.

anyway so to united these, then, they met each other. and it takes a while, but they get comfortable with each other. magnus goes on a long ramble about a potion he’s been trying to get just right and then cuts himself off, embarrassed, and apologizes for probably boring alec, and alec’s like what? no, that was really interesting, i was listening, can you explain the thing with the mandrake root? and magnus is like…oh.. (also side note: magnus is incredibly cute when rambling about things he’s interested in, he waves his hands a lot and his eyes are all excited and warm and he’s so lively, and clearly passionate, that it’s engaging and pulls you in. like a really good professor. and sometimes he starts talking about something way above most people’s heads without realizing how Smart he is, but if you ask him to clarify he’s like, totally non-condescending and explains it in creative and understandable way????? sorry im in love with adhd magnus thanks to someone anyway)

and then vice versa, alec slowly feels more comfortable talking about things that interest him, like a book he’s been reading and how it’s so fucking stupid the heroine went for the “blonde bad boy” when he’s such a dick to her, or whatever, like it starts as an angry rant about something but before he can cut himself off he realizes magnus is listening. like, actually listening. and like, if it’s appropriate, magnus will ask questions, engage in what alec’s talking about, and alec finds himself getting better at putting to words what he means and magnus is never mean about it, always patient and understanding

2. as a kid alec read romance novels. cheesy shitty fun romance novels. especially the ones that are like, written by women (or better, queer people, but that’s later) and aren’t weird? you know what i mean? and he loved them. romance was something young alec dreamed of a lot, even if he tried to ignore how he preferred tall, dark, and handsome to the main character, or the kind man the heroine fell in love with to the heroine herself. he hid trashy romance novels like most teen boys his age (including jace) hid porn magazines or whatever. he eventually maybe found some queer lit, but he didn’t dare to bring those back to the institute, instead choosing to go to the library the few times he had free time to sneak out (aka when he wasn’t working, sleeping, training, or watching izzy and jaces’ backs when they snuck out to clubs and shit.

also: 3. also i stand by the fact that alec wasn’t in denial about being gay. he wasn’t repressed, he knew exactly what he wanted and who he was, he just didn’t think it was possible for him to be with a man and be happy.

4. alec isn’t a sweet innocent baby boy!!!! he’s seen porn, he knows how sex works, he’s masturbated, and honestly i know the show said otherwise but i find it hard to believe he never once fooled around even a little bit. just a little bit. no actual dating? not hard to believe at all. even being a “virgin” despite how outdated and terrible the concept is, not unbelievable. plenty of “normal” people reach college-age without ever having had sex, let alone shadowhunters raised to be demon-fighting soldiers. but like. look. he has the Energy. alec….Alec Fucks. also just something about the whole like, his siblings are always sneaking off to clubs and he follows them to watch their backs (is this canon or just common fanon? i honestly don’t remember) just screams to me hey, he may or may not have made out with an adventurous seelie or a mundane with eyes. or maybe a blowjob or a handjob, who knows. i’m JUST SAYING. i know this isn’t canon but i don’t care. alec lightwood has seen a dick

5. alec is ridiculously protective of people he loves. especially family (both in the sense of literal family like izzy, and family in the sense of “making your own family” like magnus) like he’d kill for them, he’d die for them, he’d live forever for them,

6. alec can and will become immortal for magnus. and not just literally only for magnus, for himself as well–like he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life being a tool for the clave, he can work for better relations between downworlders and shadowhunters, and like accords that aren’t shitty, and he can be more than just another soldier or even head of the institute, he can be more and have time to actually spend time on himself, like it doesn’t have to be training-work-protect his siblings-sleep-training, and then one day he gets married and has kids and dies. he can actually experience the world, do things he enjoys, spend time with his husband, and most of all, he can spend the rest of his life with magnus bane, the love of his life, his husband, someone he loves so much. he can make sure magnus’s heart doesn’t get broken again by falling in love only to lose him. they get their happy ending, you know???? we stan

7. alec would be a great dad i dont know what to tell you he just would be

8. one of the first kinks alec realized he really had like. with magnus. was office sex. yes im a slut what about it

this is bc he was minding his own business, doing paperwork at his desk, and magnus maybe sent a flirty text and alec was like mm i want to fuck him right now. and then he was staring at his desk thinking mm i want to bend him over this desk, sweep all this paper off the desk and rip off his clothes, take off his panties last and then lick his pussy until he’s begging for me to fuck him then press his chest down against the desk and fuck him until he screams. maybe i could tie his wrists behind his back with a tie. like i’m his boss? oh my god magnus in a secretary outfit. shit. he gets no work done that day. it’s just a rabbit hole of one thought to another until he’s like. sitting there hard and unable to focus on his work bc the mental image of magnus bent over in a skirt over his desk keeps playing his mind and he doesn’t want to do this paperwork he’d much rather be doing his husband.

9. alec loves making out with magnus on the couch like they’re just chilling and watching a movie and cuddling and alec loves to pull magnus into his arms and just make out. like literally not even “this ends in sex and gets hot and heavy” literally just magnus in his arms. and they kiss a lot. it’s soft and warm and relaxing tbh

10. magnus!!! and alec!!! cuddling!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they both love it!!!!!! they’re both lowkey touch-starved!!!!!!

11. alec’s a dom top and that’s that my dudes

#long post #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec #trans magnus bane #trans magnus smut #alec tag #:/

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wackygoofball · 5 years

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Gwenspiration: The Wacky Version Vol. 1 - The Fanfics

As threatened/promised, I am tooting the horn in a number of posts, following the most kind call of @jaimebrienneonline.

I decided to begin with fanfic as JB fanfiction was my way into the fandom when a kind voice, long time ago, lured me over to the wonderful world which is JBO. And ever since that day I found both my home and my people.

I am not going in a particular order because like my non-existent children, I kind of love and love to hate all of my fics equally.

But, for matters of scrolling convenience, I will put this list below a cut:

Childhood Friends has a special place in my heart because it is one of the two fics that got me into the fandom, and it is of the rare species of completed Wacky WIPs. The story marked my first tender steps in the canon as I was still catching up on show and book knowledge but got instantly hooked on the JB dynamic and just *had* to write fanfiction about them, albeit not yet knowing just what the frack Westeros even looked like on a map. I simply was intrigued by the idea of how the lives of our OTP may have played out differently if only they had met at a younger age, only to run into one another time and time again over the years, until at last, the circumstances seem to be in their favor. Writing that fic was a challenge because, for one, it got finished, which is incredibly hard for me to to do, and it is a coming of age story of sorts, which is not necessarily what I am used to writing. Nonetheless, it was a project that got me firmly into the fandom, which is why I am always remembering the process (and the writer’s panic) somewhat fondly, and always smile like an idiot when someone finds that old fic of mine and leaves a kudo or even a comment, reminding me of those early beginnings of my JB shipping career.

Choices likely has to be mentioned in the same vein, despite its crucial difference being that it went on a very, very, veeeeeery long hiatus and yet has to awaken (some prince wanting to give it a smooch to maybe bring it back to life? Would be much appreciated!). It was born out of the wish of exploring the infamous what if of Jaime and Brienne already getting intimate while on the road back to King’s Landing - as a matter of necessity/convenience, only for the misfortunate/very fortunate circumstance that Brienne winds up pregnant after their one time together. I enjoyed/would very much to enjoy again to write the character studies on how they deal not just with the issue of parenthood but also with their insecurities regarding their feelings for one another, which inspires more than one ill-made choice (*roll credits*) for either one of them as neither one dares to call love what actually is just that, hiding instead behind missions and honor, parenthood and duty, and fractured pasts that leave them wondering just who they became thanks to each other.

Colour Verses is a series that was born out of my first ever (I believe) JB Appreciation Week. OMG, it’s been so long. The theme of colors really had me inspired, which is why those pieces, which can be read in succession and independently, have a soft spot in my Wacky heart.

The Shredding Project, I believe, deserves an honorary mention despite its utter lack of completion for some of its parts and a happy ending for some of the tales shredded in this part of the fandom. I have a great passion for fairytales and deconstructing them, which inspired this undertaking of twisting and turning aka shredding all those stories into new models to fit Jaime and Brienne into. In fact, the Shredding Project is much larger than it currently is on AO3, as most of the shredded stories still reside in a large, very large Word file on my computer (42 shreddings up to date with a total of 414k words *whispers* 414k mkaaaay, yes I *am* obsessed), and can be found in the respective thread on JBO, where one can read perhaps not an eloquently put-together retelling of favorite fairytales (and some Disney movies) but at least find a conclusion to every story and thus a happy ending, as befits a fairytale.

Bow Down is another story I would mean to include in this list. It came to mean a lot to me personally because I worked my way through it at a time when I was not really having the time of my life for a number of reasons. Thus, finishing that fic did a lot of things for me - and hopefully also with my oh so patient readers. The basic premise is how things would have developed, had Brienne failed to find Sansa and thus fully dedicate herself to the cause of the Blackfish during the Riverrun Siege whose bitterness is clouding his judgment, leaving Jaime in a tough position to choose between his family and the mannish woman he can’t help but care about as much as he does.

A Tale of Spring is one of those fics I wish to include in that already way too long tooting because a) it is a finished story, which is always a rarity in my Wacky world, and b) it is still a kind of headcanon I would have loved to come about in some capacity, as it leaves room for not just happy endings while at the same time giving space for futures to grow for JB as they are cautious to dream of their future past the Long Night, edging on a Dream of Spring.

Paths is one of those stories I am, yet again, very desperate to get back on track with (I mean, it is supposed to lead somewhere, title has it). This story means a lot to me because I just have so much in my head for how this is meant to conclude and just have to get over that one edge to finally ebb into the narrative direction I need this to go (aka follow the path *badum tssssss*). I suppose the story was very much fuelled by my love for G.I. Jane and the dynamic between Jordan O'Neil and John James Urgayle (and Viggo in those short shorts... way too short shorts... damn). At the same time, my aim with this fic is to show not just how tough JB can be and how much ass they can kick together but also how insecure they are beneath the tough surface and how they actually long for something way outside the line of fire.

Train Acquaintances, by contrast, is a rather self-indulgent fic I started to write and was surprised to have found an audience rather fast. I just really liked the theme of trains as a way for two people to meet while at the same time playing with the overly romanticized notion of trains and deconstructing it somewhat. They are a curious means of transportation, to put it mildly. And to then throw in Jaime trying to act smoothly when he is just acting like a dork most of his time was just too delicious to resist. While it’s been a long time (because my computer ate part of a chapter I found really important and that has frustrated me so much, I can’t even tell you), I remain intrigued writing this story because it has a rather distinct mood from what I normally tend to write. And awkward Jaime is just so much fun to write.

Washed Away is one of those fics I am so desperate to get back to that you woudln’t even believe - because it is the one fic most closely tied to the book canon. Its premise is the Lady Stoneheart situation yet to be resolved, wherein Brienne makes a dangerous gamble to save the man she knows is not guilty of the crimes Lady Stoneheart accuses him of, leaving them both to wrestle not just with the dilemmas of this overall situation but also their conflicting vows and feelings for one another.

In the Eyes of the Seven is one of those fics I am yet again very desperate to get back to (yes, I realize I type this sentence far too often, but it is the truth!) but have not yet found a way to bridge between two important plot points, currently creating a gap that keeps me from moving on to the next chapters. It is one of those narrative places where I nerd around freely and explore some mad medley of historical fiction inserted into the history of Westeros, taking up on the runaway nuns of the Reformation period and re-applying it to the Westerosi context by making it about septons and septas instead. While perhaps not a particularly popular story of mine, it is a story I very much enjoy writing as it gives opportunity for lots of introspection, insecurities, and the wish of both characters to break out of the boundaries of the norms set by a static system leaving no room for the likes of the Kingslayer and a woman fancying herself a sword as much as a book or a dress. In general, there are just so many ideas for it inside my head that I really hope to get back on track with that story because there is just so much more I want to tell the readers about in this strange tale.

May the Norns Bind Their Fate strikes a similar tune for me, as I get to gush about my mediocre-at-best knowledge of Norse mythology (albeit a great interest) and yet again change Westeros to my liking to insert the political system of the Viking era into this society (or rather my wacky interpretation thereof). For me, it is both an experiment in terms of perhaps (big perhaps) turning things a bit more heated than I am used to (for Wacky writes no smut, unless it is a literal accident, which only happened, like, once) and diving deep into aspects such as trauma and grief as well as fate and determinacy, since the idea of seers knowing your future has a very distinct appeal in my view, and how knowing one’s “fate” may affect the outcomes of the events. Thus, taking up on the challenge to deal with that in this fic still has me hooked - and I hope I am not the only one.

Last but not least...

An Honorable Man and a Just Woman is a story I am happy to have found an audience because it really gives me something personally to write it. Considering how sadly things played out in the show, I was in dire need of my own little fix-it and have since taken up on the challenge to entertain those questions of what would have changed had Jaime survived, what would be if he were declared King of the Six Kingdoms. Not only does that leave a humbled Jaime trying to find his place in a world he never thought he would see, having seen his ending long before he rode away from Winterfell, but it also leaves him and Brienne with the reality of what it is like to survive when so many died, and how to cope with how they parted and why. And while there are still so many things left unsaid and feelings left unexpressed, one can only hope that those two honorable and just people will eventually find their way around in the new world they are meant to build.

So yeah, I tooted a lot, and I still left out a whole bunch of my weird fanfic children, but those are the ones I feel a great deal of dedication to, even if, admittedly, a lot of them haven’t seen an update in ages. But rest assured, anyone reading this who dared to jump the Wacky train and read along, knowing very well that this strange woman struggles finishing a WIP most of her days, that I am still dedicated to each of those stories (as I am to any story I write). There are simply technicalities and real life not letting me dedicate as much of my time to it as I would need to finally get that final push ahead on a lot of them.

Be it as it may, in the spirit of Glorious Gwendoline Christie, here’s to my shameless self-promotion!

Stay tuned for the next post about the wackiest of Wacky’s wacky creations.

Until then...

Much love! ♥♥♥

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #gwenspiration #wacky writes fanfic #wacky promotes fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #yadda #and I love me mah tags

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years

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“The Heart of the Truest Believer” Unused Script Snippets Compilation

So, as some of you know, recently I was lucky enough to win a script for “The Heart of the Truest Believer” in an OUAT auction. I think scripts are some of the most fun things you can win in auctions like these -- it’s cool to see how lines change and develop over the course of the writing and filming processes, they open the door to additional fun fan speculation, and of course, we get to see lines and actions that didn’t make the cut and in some cases, maybe see a completely new product!

And now that I have the script, I wanted to share it with everyone so we can do all of that groovy stuff!

There were a fair amount of changes, additional bits of dialogue, and honestly just funny things I noticed that I wanted to point out to laugh at like a fourth grader! I put in every thing that was in the script, but not in the episode, but if there’s a scene or something from the episode that you want to see, please let me know and i’ll see what I can do to get it to you (Sorry, buying the scripts and scanning can get expensive and I’m going to London this summer)!

Also, there’s a fair amount of shippy stuff in here, namely for Swan Fire, Sleeping Warrior, and Captain Swan (Ergo, the early ship tags). It’s not all that’s in here by any means, but I do want you going into this knowing that.

Finally, as a personal plea from me, let’s please try not to go too beserk over this, or rather, like our fandom sometimes tends to do. I wanted to share all of this good stuff for fun and archival purposes and I’d hate to inadvertently cause the next fandom war. And look, I get it: Fandoms be fandoms and my plea probably won’t factor into much in the grand scheme of things, but hey, I had to try, am I right? Just remember to treat each other the way you’d want to be treated. Certain scenes and ship that you might not like could mean a great deal to others and we should all try and respect each other.

Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, without further adieu, join me under the cut and let’s get to it!

First off, here’s a little observation: Apparently, in addition to comforting Emma, the doctor was supposed to give Emma a tissue. And given the sentences before that note, she’d definitely need it. :(

Another small cut line, but it makes you think just what a war on magic would be like. Also, I love the buildup of Tamara and Greg as these big antagonists and a third faction to counter the efforts of Pan and the heroes, only to pull the rug up from them and the audience. Kind of reminds me of how Dragon Ball Z transitioned from the androids to Cell.

Okay, enough nerding out! Moving on!

I was so happy that we got a juicy little bit of Rumple-y goodness in here! While I’m personally okay with the scene being excluded from the final episode, I do love how this scene builds up Rumple’s transformation back into his Dark One persona. I love the idea of the most dramatic spinning in television history and that crescendo of suspense. You know Isham would’ve had a time and a half orchestrating this scene! Can you just imagine the strings and the percussion?!

And speaking of Rumple, here’s some more Rumple dialogue!!! It builds on what we got in the final version in a more detailed way and makes for a strong moment in the Emma and Rumple dynamic.

As an added bonus, if you look at the bottom left of the page, it appears that whoever previously had this script helped setting up the sets! So that’s nifty!

Tamara is Spider-Man. OUAT/MCU CROSSOVER CONFIRMED!!

In a similar vein, we see Greg and Tamara here trying to do a bit more damage to the enemies than what we got in the finished episode.

Phillip! That’s Lumiere’s line! Silly man...

We get a bit more unused dialogue here (Loving the “arrow” joke!)! It’s basically just exposition, but we do get a bit of colliding personalities in here, especially between Neal and Mulan. Considering that these characters don’t get a ton of screen time after this season, this was a nice discovery to uncover.

I also like the smidge of character development Mulan got from Belle -- she’s now taken an interest in seeking knowledge after seeing how effective it can be!

More towards the bottom of the page, here we get two things that I found cool. First, we see a bit more to the guessing game of what is attacking the Jolly Roger and for certain Killian fans, seeing a Kraken out there is pretty cool!

Second...look the descriptions of some of the actions in these scripts is just phenomenal. And if you ever want to ensure a good ole case of alcohol poisoning, take a drink every time the F word is used! You will be PLASTERED before long! XD

We get a lot of additional dialogue here with some twinges of both Swan Fire and Sleeping Warrior nestled neatly in the actions and dialogue. My friends, I’d have KILLED to see that hand hold in the final product! I also really admire Neal’s steadfast determination here! It’s very reminiscent of Baelfire and is just utterly heartwarming to see how much he cares about his family.

And on top of that, we get a smidge more lore for the after effects of the sleeping curse! I’m no lore snob and I do find the explanation to be a biiiiiiiit weird, but hey -- it’s OUAT and weird is what I signed up for! It works well enough for me.

Tamara, you can’t blame others for your actions! You know better...or at least you should. I don’t know. For a while, at least, you seemed pretty smart and devious.

But more importantly than that: THE DARK ONE IS BACK! ...I just really liked that line. It reminds me of that old movie Commando. Rumple was trying to leave his past behind...sort of, but to save what matters to him, he’s gotta go back to his old ways. It’s a great mix of menacing and oddly triumphant! Honestly, it just sounds badass and I love that script note!!!

Like I said...the drinking games that could stem from these scripts could KILL someone! ...There’s nothing new here: I just thought this was funny.

MOVING ON!

Once again, we see some more Neal and Mulan dialogue with both direct and indirect nods to Swan Fire and Sleeping Warrior! I just have a lot of feels for these two, okay?!

So, we’ll see this a bit later in more detail, but there seemed to be something of a D-plot about the Jolly Roger sinking as a result of the storm. It’s only mentioned in the final product during the scene where our team finally arrives on the island, but there’s quite a few lines about this being more of a substantial plot point than what we ended up getting. Once again, I’m overall okay with its exclusion since the conflict of them having to work together was the more important part of the conflict.

And hey! We get a little bit of CS dialogue too, and I’m not complaining about that at all! I can’t help but feel like had that been included, it (Namely Killian calling Emma a sailor) would’ve been one of those OUAT-y things that just makes its way into all kinds of fan works -- like an OUAT meme that’s not played for comedy. You get what I’m saying? Ah well!

Let’s keep going!

...Again, not new, but the script direction was just too funny to leave out of this post!

Here we get a bit more dialogue of Emma trying to get her reluctant teammates to listen to her. While I’m fine with the scene as we got it, I would’ve liked it if this went into the final version. It builds up Emma’s desperation nicely and gives their lack of teamwork a subtle hint of tragedy that a solution is literally right in their face, but they won’t listen.

I also like that there’s a bit more to Hook’s extra line. Does one take it as him not believing her alongside the group, or him believing her and tragically pointing out that no one else does? I think the ultimate interpretation would’ve come down to how Colin played it, but I appreciate the nuance of the line!

So, here, like I said before, here’s where we get more of the meat of the Jolly Roger sinking plot point. There’s more of a weight to it. As I said before, while I like this extra dialogue, I do think that the final version was effective enough in showing the team working together and that an extra scene wouldn’t have contributed that meaningfully to it in the overall grand scheme of things.

That all having been said, additionally, we get some awesome Emma here, and I am always a fan of that! We get to see a bit of smugness with that “I was right” line and some frack-a-lackin’great leadership as she leads the group onto Neverland’s shores! It’s an honestly cool moment and I’m picturing Jen slaying as she delivers these great lines!

As you might be able to see on the first picture in this set, there’s a bit of cutoff dialogue. Unfortunately, that’s how I got the script and it happens occasionally in this script. However, if I may speculate, going by Emma’s next line, it seems like Hook was telling her that if they follow through with her plan, Pan will know they’re on his island for sure and will likely be able to find them with relative ease. It’s fitting for Hook’s view of Pan for him to be apprehensive about giving Pan an in like this and makes Emma’s willingness to go into the metaphorical fires of Neverland to be even cooler!

Finally, we end off with another bit of Swan Fire, and it’s honestly pretty touching! Like, he cries over her and she’s the love of his life! That’s just sweet!

Also, I’m pretty sure that Robin line at the top is new, and it’s pretty funny! Robin’s character does snark really well!

And with that, our journey through the uncut side of “The Heart of the Truest Believer” is complete! I hope you all liked these snippets and maybe got a bit more material to think on! I know I did!

#ouat #once upon a time #ouat script #heart of the truest believer #swan fire #sleeping warrior #captain swan #emma swan #rumple #neal cassidy #mulan #aurora #phillip #killian jones #hook #greg #tamara #robin hood #Rumplestiltskin

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bookenders · 5 years

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11/11/11 Tag Game: 16/17/18?

Back again to spill the tea about myself for all you lovely people.Thanks @cataclysmic-writer, @maybeillwriteit and @aurisadventure for the tags!

My answers are under the cut. 😊

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you, make up 11 questions, then tag 11 people to answer them.

Bilbo Taggins: @brittanyisart, @quilloftheclouds, @brittanyisart, @brynwrites, @creatvrae, @elisabethrosewrites, @elizabethsyson, @ren-c-leyn, @yetmorestories, @pinespittinink, @timefire25

My Questions:

What are your thoughts on throw pillows?

Do you have any podcast recommendations? How about TV shows?

What month would you be on a calendar, and what would the picture be?

What is one book that you absolutely love, no matter what anyone else has to say about it?

What’s your favorite kind of scented candle?

What’s your favorite urban legend?

Would you ever go on an arctic expedition?

What’s the furthest from home you’ve ever been?

What is the best snack?

How purple do you allow your prose to be/get? What’s your purple limit? Is there one?

What’s one word/line/scene/character that you want to put in a story, but you haven’t found the right place for yet?

@cataclysmic-writer‘s questions:

What do you eat or drink while writing? It varies depending on how I’m feelin’. Usually a big giant glass of water. I used to have coffee and/or tea, but it always got cold because I forgot about it. That’s actually how I used to measure my progress, by how cold the drink was. And coffee got me too jazzed to sit still, so I stopped drinking while writing. Good for academic papers, though.

Best piece of advice you ever received? Like... ever? Okay. People are more interested in themselves/absorbed with themselves to really care what you’re doing. Very empowering for someone with real bad social anxiety (like myself heyooo).

Which book inspired you to write the most? I’ve talked about Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls before, and I’m gonna mention it again. And that I went to a signing for her new book Shout and I got to thank her and my life has been enriched a thousand-fold.

Which author do you try to emulate when you write? Oh, man, I do not do this at all. Okay, well, not at all, because I find it to be a valuable writing exercise to practice with. But I super don’t. I’ve done projects where I’ve emulated Walt Whitman, Philip Levine, Tolkien, Dostoevsky, Poe (eugh), and Anne Valente. Those were super fun. I like imitating styles and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Sometimes I tell myself to put a Gaiman-like twist on a section, though, or describe something like another author if it fits the tone for funsies. But I like writing like me!

Where did you get the idea for your current wip? I’ve already talked about Heart to Heart, so I’ll talk about “Fish Food!” This one happened when I was pondering superheroes, James Bond, tropes, evil monologues, and the like. I had the image of a hero tied up and dangling over a pit of piranhas while the villain detailed his evil plan. But the hero didn’t follow the script. And then, like every one of my short stories, it spun way out of control. I started to think of what heroes would inhabit this world that erupted from the fertile soil of my brain and suddenly I had a big complicated story that I was excited about. And it was funny, which is a change for me.

Do you have a go-to beta reader/writing buddy you bounce ideas off of? I do! One of my goodest friends is a fellow writer and she’s my spaghetti wall if I need assistance. We went through the same creative writing program one year apart and had different teachers, so we offer each other pretty different advice, and it’s great. She’s super into fae lore, too, which is ridiculously helpful for me, a nerd who is writing a light fantasy story with fae in it. We operate in different styles and genres, though, so sometimes idea-bouncing is a little tricky.

Which of your WIPs is your favorite? Of the ones I’m working on right now? Probably “Incarnate.” Partly because it’s closer to my usual writing fare, partly because it’s weird and disturbing in my favorite ways, partly because the ending is really cool and surprising in a way that hits you long after you finish it. I also like it because it’s hard for me to write. Yay, challenges!

Tea, coffee, or soda? Tea for chillin’, coffee for workin’, soda for pizza times.

If you could have any fantasy creature as a pet, which would you have? A brownie to clean my house, or a domovoi to act as a weird home security system would be neat. For non-practical purposes, I’d also say a pegasus. I can ride pretty well and it’d be so convenient to just fly everywhere on my awesome horse buddy.

Do you like creepy/scary movies? NOPE. I am a big chicken shit when it comes to spooky things. As a kid, I was terrified of E.T. That’s how bad it was.

What genre do you have yet to write in, but want to write soon? Hm. Maybe historical fiction? I already play with it a little bit without actually going into the history part of it too deeply. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future. I’ve always wanted to give magical realism a good try, though. It’s always been hard for me to write.

________________________________________

@aurisadventure‘s questions:

1. Who is your favorite oc? Why?

Right now, it’s Lithium from “Fish Food.” She’s just so fun. I also just figured out a big part of Jill’s character that I’m excited to add to H2H!

2. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

I got into cooking a while ago, and that’s pretty fun. I do yoga sometimes. I read a bunch. I also like putting things together. Honestly, I’m a big giant nerd who likes learning in their spare time.

3. What is your least favoured genre?

Hard sci-fi is really hard for me to get into. And some contemporary stuff, but it’s not as bad as hard sci-fi.

4. Top three favorite video games? (Any console)

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (with Awakening DLC, obvs) (except for the goddamn Mage Circle Fade part I hate it and it deserves to burn in hell)

Ori and the Blind Forest (I’m stuck on the last stupid fire volcano level and I’m so mad because it’s hard but this game is beautiful)

To The Moon (so many tears, such good story)

Honorable mention to Assassin’s Creed 2.

(I love RPGs.)

5. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for inspiration?

Hm. I don’t really go out and seek inspiration like this. I just consume a whole lot of art in varying mediums.

I went to a poetry slam one time. Does that count?

6. Buggy or Cart?

Horses, buggy. Oxen, cart. As much as I’d like to be Gandalf...

7. Have you finished any of your wips?

I am so goddamn close to finishing “When Your Song is Over and Done” I can taste it. I’m hoping to write that last stupid scene this week. It’s been the one WIP that’s been kicking my ass lately. How rude.

I’m a short story writer, so I finish a lot of my WIPs. It’s kinda nice. That’s also why longer projects scare me.

8. But like… can I read it?

😉

In the meantime, you can read these!

9. What is your favorite animal? Why?

Highland Cows! Just look at them.

I’m sure I have a more interesting answer for this, but honestly, cows are all I can think of. I love cows.

10. Name one place you want to visit more than anything.

Norway! Not sure why. Seems like a really cool place to be.

(I lied I love space and want to go to the observatories.)

11. What is your most cherished childhood memory?

Saturday mornings curled up in my grandfather’s armchair watching TV and eating Burger King before we go visit the animals at the farm.

________________________________________

@maybeillwriteit‘s questions:

1. Which oc would you most like to go for a drink with?

I don’t drink, but I think Treena would be an excellent conversation partner.

2. Where do you like to write? Bed? Desk? Cafe? etc etc

I have a desk in my room. Not that I usually write at it. I’m good anywhere I can sit up straight and rest my arms.

3. Which of your ocs do you think people are most likely to make fanart for?

Eventually, I hope Mel. I love her character design. Or the superheroes and villains from “Fish Food.” They all have really distinct appearances and cool costumes/uniforms.

4. Favourite piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Probably the time my mentor also admitted he hated writing dialogue, but that sometimes you just gotta.

5. Which place in your stories would you like to live? (i’ve read this sentence ten times and i ain’t convinced it’s grammatically correct lol)

(maybe: In which place/where in your stories would you most like to live? I dunno this one’s freaking my brain.)

Linsay would be the best place to live, I think. A very chill small town that has everything you need, very supportive soon-to-be friends, an apothecary on stand-by, and lovely weather. Its residents are fiercely protective and are very willing to look the other way where the law is concerned if it helps someone.

6. Do any authors/books influence your writing? Which ones?

Oh, tons. Jim Butcher, Laurie Halse Anderson, George Saunders, Anne Valente, Tolkien, Gaiman, Matt Bell, Aimee Bender, and a whole bunch more authors. And, if you wanna get all heartfelt about it, every single book I’ve read has influenced my writing, whether it’s learning how to do something, learning how not to do something, or finding a new technique that jives with my style.

7. Pick one song that represents your wip.

I’ve done a bunch of song stuff with H2H, so this is for “Fish Food:”

Honestly, my first instinct is “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” from Next to Normal. But it’s not quite right.

I also wanna say “Super Friends” from Holy Musical B@man.

But in my heart, I know the true answer is “Under Pressure.” How could it not be?

8. Favourite thing about being a writer?

The feels! I love writing things and getting my own feels out, then making other people feel things. It’s so satisfying.

9. Characters or plot, what came first?

Characters! Oh my God, always characters. And before characters, concept and theme(s). Sometimes a scene just pops into my head and I have to figure out who these people are and why they’re there.

10. Do you like writing prompts?

I do indeedy. They’re pretty helpful when I’m stuck. I only write for the ones that instantly spark an idea in my brain, though. All the ones I’m getting for my 800 followers celebration are insanely good.

11. Part of your wip that you’re most excited to write?

Oh, man! So many!

H2H: The climax! Well, one of them. The one of the magic incidents and Mel and Gemma’s relationship, to be specific.

Fish Food: When my main two dudes meet Lithium! And figure out what’s going on with her. Or anything about Lithium’s real life. Her story is wild.

WYSiOaD: The goddamn rooftop scene that’s been kicking my ass for a month. It’s gonna be so emotional and poignant and great and I can’t wait for it to be over.

#writeblr #amwriting #about me #tag game #writer tag #11/11/11 tag game #my process #my writing process #tunes

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

Text

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT YEARS

Err on the side. I may try in the future is David Heinemeier Hansson gave a talk in which he suggested that startup founders should do things the old fashioned way. 40% used to be common. Here, again, language designers are somewhat out of touch with their users. I accumulated all this useless stuff, but that it's very large, and the cost of failure to increase the number of nonspam and spam messages respectively. We take it for granted most of the calories.1 No one wants to begin a program with a bunch of strangers and probably be rejected by most of them grew organically.2 Think about where credentialism first appeared: in selecting candidates for large organizations.3 But if you skip running for a couple years for another company before starting their own companies than by working for existing ones, the existing companies are forced to pay more to keep them.

As I've written before, one of our habits of mind than others? Two have already turned down lowball acquisition offers. She arrived looking astonished. Ironically, part of the reason engineering is traditionally averse to handholding is that its traditions date from a time when engineers were less powerful—when they were Robin Hood, their stock price rose like Google's. It seems pretentious, or frivolous, or even make sounds that tell what's happening.4 I can to some extent avoid thinking about nasty things people have done to me by telling myself: this doesn't deserve space in my head. When I was a kid I was firmly in the camp of bad. For it to surprise me, it must be very hard—and so they don't try do to it. Now the same work might be done by one or two sentences.

And by Parkinson's Law, software has expanded to use the shift key much. No idea for a company; we did. Any strategy that omits the effort—whether it's expecting a big launch to get you users, or data ownership at the level of type tags.5 In our school it was eighth grade, which was still then a quasi-government entity. The good news is, if you're ahead now, and you've made something other users want too. Then you could, in effect, is leaks in a seal. Fortunately the way to do this when they can.6 But Yahoo treated programming as a commodity.7 And if you have such problems you want to get rich by building a valuable company and then selling stock in a liquidity event, founders should start companies that make money and live off the revenues of your company, don't look for them in the news. But still the case for guilt is stronger.8 Don't try to guess where your code is slow, because you'll guess wrong. Certainly it can be at every stage.9

It's common in technology for an innovation that decreases the cost of typing it. 99%. Here's a sketch of how I do statistical filtering. For most people, would be if he were thrust back into middle school. The official story is that legacy status doesn't carry much weight, because all it does is break ties: applicants are bucketed by ability, and legacy status is only used to decide between the applicants in the bucket that straddles the cutoff.10 Some VCs will say this is unthinkable—that they want all their money to be put to work growing the company. It's like importing something from Wisconsin to Michigan.11 Each is, by itself, enough to kill you. There are times in most of the 1970s. This can't be how the big, famous startups got started, they think.

That is the big win in the end, no matter what.12 Our instincts tell us something so valuable would not be surprised if it is called Lisp. And pow, more stuff. 7 billion, and the big bang method, is exemplified by the VC-backed, heavily marketed startup.13 Perhaps the most important of which was Fortran. If everyone else is cowering in a corner, you may not finish your training till 30. But measured in total market cap, the build-stuff-for-yourself model might be more fruitful.14 I can imagine two reasons: if they were functions on indexes, we could have monotonically increasing confidence in their opinions are implicitly concluding the world is static. It's not enough just to be pleasing.15 All the search engines were doing it. You don't need to know the type of every argument in every call in the program.16

Notes

The other extreme—becoming demoralized when investors reject you. The other cause is the most difficult part for startup founders and investors are also startlingly popular on Delicious, but when companies reach a given audience by a sense of the company is like starting out in the next time you raise as you get to profitability on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit. Even though we made a million dollars. A significant component of piracy, which shows how unimportant the Arpanet which became the twin centers from which Renaissance civilization radiated.

Naive founders think Wow, a few stellar exceptions the textbooks are similarly misleading. But there are lots of options, because they actually do, and it introduced us to see how much he liked his work. Though they are so intellectually dishonest in that category. This is why hackers give you fifty times as much income.

No Logo, Naomi Klein says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not do this with prices too, of course. If you have an investor pushes you hard to tell them about.

The ironic thing is, because it doesn't cost anything.

We tell them to get them to get good enough to invest in so many trade publications nominally have a notebook to write an essay about it as if the selection process looked for different things from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, is that when you use this thing yourself, because even being deliberately misleading by focusing on people who will go away is investors requiring them.

There are two simplifying assumptions: that the elegance of proofs is quantifiable, in which multiple independent buildings are gutted or demolished to be a good idea to make money. To be fair, the higher the walls become. In 1995, when the company.

Simpler just to load a problem later.

The root of the incompetence of newspapers is that they don't know of this essay, I mean by evolution. So if we wanted to invest more, are not in the bouillon cube s, cover, and so don't deserve to keep their wings folded, as they get for free. Living on instant ramen, which I deliberately pander to readers, because outsourcing it will seem more powerful version written in Lisp.

I don't want to measure that turns out to do it now.

The ironic thing is, obviously, only for startups, who've already made it possible to transmute lead into gold though not economically at current energy prices, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Your mileage may vary. They want to either. Instead of no one else involved knows French.

I may try to go the bathroom, and although convertible notes often have you heard a retailer claim that they'll be able to formalize a small business that isn't the last round of funding rounds are bad news; it is probably no accident that the site was about the cheapest food available. Hypothesis: A company will either be a predictor of success.

There were a property of the junk bond business by Michael Milken; a new, much more fun than he'd had an opportunity to invest in your startup with credit cards. Scribes in ancient Egypt took exams, but it might make them want you. An investor who says he's interested in graphic design.

If doctors did the same trick of enriching himself at the end of World War II was in principle is that you'll expend a lot, or want tenure, avoid casual conversations with potential earnings. There was no great risk in doing a small proportion of spam. Note to nerds: or possibly a winner, they will fund you one day be able to respond with extreme countermeasures.

So if all bugs are found quickly.

A lot of legal business. Jessica. Alfred Lin points out that this filter runs on.

When Harvard kicks undergrads out for doing it with such tricks, you'd get ten times as much what other people in any other company has ever been.

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acoolguyscoollife · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1: (Non)Humble Beginnings

Cool Guy

I used to take stuff in my life way too seriously. Had one of those dramatic pasts that everyone is used to in life. But then I decided to throw all that away, grab a cool-ass moniker and just chill, so that’s pretty much where my life is now. And since you probably have gathered from the subtitle to the chapter, I’m Cool Guy. Real name doesn’t matter. Most people call me CG, so I guess that’s what you should call me too. Now I bet you’re thinking to yourself well this is a tad confusing, he knows I’m reading a book about him! And you’d be pretty much right. Well, kinda. I didn’t know as these things were happening that I’d eventually end up being in a position where writing this would make sense. So now you’re probably wondering what actually happened. What is the “cool life” this “Cool Guy” led? Well, to sum it up in a few sentences… I’d have to say that it was not much. Well, it was your average cross-dimensional, reality bending, ancient prophecy fare. With romance subplots out the ass. And if you think that’s cool, wait until we get to the time travelling lesbian couple, one from my day and one from the distant future! Best part is she may be my daughter; we’ve got no freaking idea! Life’s fun when you stop giving a shit, more people should try it. Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself slightly. I’ve already introduced myself but I should introduce the three other people who’ll be telling this story as it goes on. I should also dial back on mentioning things that from your perspective haven’t happened yet. Anyway, first off is Amy Frays. She was raised by her older brother and her slightly-less-older-but-still-older brother, the latter of which is an okay guy. Amy and I go way back, she was one of the people that knew me before my name became what it is now. She still called me CG though, since my old name also had those initials. Kinda. Sorta. It’s complicated. Anyway, moving swiftly on to my only male friend, Seth Allen. Truth be told I never actually asked about his home life because it just wasn’t the sort of thing we’d discuss. We just spoke in dated movie references and video-game lingo for a while, and it was a pretty fun time. By the time we’d gotten to the point in our friendship where we should have known about this stuff, neither of us wanted to ask because it just didn’t matter. That’s just the sort of friends we were. And finally, the weirdest of the bunch, Tabitha Williams. I only ended up meeting her because Amy introduced me, a childhood friend of hers that I’d never met. She was always busy with some kind of apprentice program where she would work under some sciencey dude. But despite all the nerd stuff she was pretty cool to hang out with. When we actually saw her. But that wasn’t often and I kinda felt as if I wasn’t as close to her as my other friends. So when this entire story started by her sending me a letter (of all things) telling me to come to this weird lab on the outskirts of the town and to bring Amy and Seth, you would understand that I was a little unsure. I mean, I didn’t even know how she found my address. But, I think I’d probably be better off switching to a different kind of narration now.

The letter smelled faintly like parchment, and was actually sealed with wax, so even though I had no idea who it was from, I had an inkling. Tabitha was always quite eccentric with stuff, and I felt like she was going to be the one writing it. After slicing my finger slightly with the letter opener, I was able to get into the letter and open it up. Sure enough, matching the parchment and the wax seal, it was written with ink. Most likely a feather quill too, knowing her. I had to squint to actually figure out what was written, cursive not being my strong suit.

CG.

I’ve got something cool to show you. I’m at the gated-off facility by Fifth Street. Bring Amy and Seth.

Also, bring snacks.

-T. Williams

The letter was confusing, to say the least. I didn’t even know Fifth Street was a place, it sounded made up until I checked it on the map app. I also wasn’t sure why she didn’t contact Seth herself, because I felt like the two of them were pretty close. I know one time they both got shitfaced and sung the entirety of Love Is An Open Door from Frozen. I also know that afterwards Seth ended up falling out of a window, spraining his ankle and swearing off booze. And then promptly started drinking again a week later. The part about snacks made sense though, as thin as Tabitha was she ate a surprising amount of sugary foods, reminding me of a character from an anime I watched a while back. A quick group text (that I included Tabitha in as a passive-aggressive show of how easier it could have been than sending me a letter) later, I was walking with Seth and Amy to the lab. Well, no one actually called it a lab but it was kind of obvious what it was. A building a sciencey person works in is unofficially a lab even if you think otherwise, it’s just how the world works. When we arrived, the first noticeable thing was how high the gates were and yet how flimsy the material was. A simple chainlink fence that could easily be cut through, with a gate in it that had a lot more of a sturdy look. Stepping up to it, a voice popped out of an intercom with a technical thing on it that I wouldn’t be able to fathom the purpose of at all.

“Put your face to the scanner.” The voice said, quickly recognisable as Tabitha’s. I put my face to the technical thing I could only assume was the scanner, however not taking off the sunglasses I always wore. Amy and Seth attempted to put their faces next to mine, but before it could get awkward and slightly homoerotic, the gate clicked and opened up, allowing us to move into the facility’s borders. The outside of the building was mostly grey, nothing noteworthy on the outside, but the actual span of the building was surprisingly large. Concrete paths were adorned with grass, just enough to grow flowers but it was evident no one had been attending to them for a while, as they were overgrown and an eyesore. As our footsteps rhythmically echoed around the quiet outdoor area, I tried to come up with some lyrics to go along with the percussive beat we were making. Tap-Tap-Tap, Tap-Tap-Tap, each of us putting one foot down almost immediately after the other, leaving a gap in-between as we moved our other foot around. Before the words that would have been the next chart-topper came to me, Amy threw my out of my thoughts by choosing this time to ask the question that had been on everyone’s minds and should have really been asked sooner.

“Where in the hell are we?” Glancing over at her, she was craning her neck to look everywhere as we continued down the path. We still had a good ways to walk, so Seth and I had plenty of time to respond and answer her question thoroughly and to the best of our knowledge.

“Don’t know.” Seth said, mirroring what I was going to say. All we really knew is that this is where Tabitha spent a lot of her time, probably too much time. None of us had seen her in person for about eight months. A cold wind blew across the path, a stereotypical sign of worrying thoughts as we made our way forward. Pulling my jacket tighter against my body, I was thankful to see we had finally reached the alcove that bore a door into this building. As if I couldn’t feel slightly creeped out enough, the doors opened by themselves as we got close to them. Stepping inside, we were greeted by a stark white corridor, surfaces cold to the touch and bearing numerous doors that led off into other rooms.

“Just go straight ahead and make a turn down the green corridor.” Said the voice of Tabitha from above, making me think for a second that God had finally decided to award my coolness by giving me guidance.

“Turn down for what.” Amy muttered under her breath, then giggled at her own dumb joke. I considered rolling my eyes but I knew she wouldn’t be able to see it anyway because of the glasses so why bother.

The room we ended up in was large, which was saying something considering that I’d seen so many large things since entering the lab that large stuff just seemed normal. A computer was across an entire wall, with various technical parts that I couldn’t make heads or tails of, a recurring theme since I had walked in here. Stood in front of the machine itself was Tabitha, in an outfit very different to what I was used to. Her long, brown hair, instead of being tied up in a bun like normal, was splayed across her shoulders and down her back, significantly longer than it had been the last time I had seen her. Her glasses were held together by tape, and her lab coat- a new addition to her style since I had seen her last- was torn, with burn marks and holes in it. Comparing that to my own leather jacket/jeans combo, or Amy’s light tank-top and pants, or Seth’s v-neck and cargo pants, it was both out of place and very haphazardly thrown together.

“Uh…” was all I could say, unsure of anything else to say.

“You look…” Amy continued, as speechless at her look as I was.

“Awesome!” Seth finished, quite contrary to what I was thinking, which was closer to explosion victim. He practically pounced on her and the two tightly hugged, making me feel both relief that I wasn’t the target of this over-affection and also slightly disappointed because the hug looked quite nice to be honest. As if sensing my thoughts, Amy nudged herself over slightly closer to me and jokingly offered a hug. I only wish I could have seen her face as I accepted the hug, quickly pulling away before the other two saw us because that would have been embarrassing to explain. I’m a man, damn it. I don’t do hugs. “Where have you been, anyway?” Seth asked, having pulled out of the hug with her.

“I’ve been… oh my god, so busy. So… god damn… busy.” Tabitha responded, spacing her words out for emphasis. “I have so much stuff to tell you guys but like… it’s all so complicated.” She waved her hands around to prove this, which did nothing but make me question her sanity. Seeing that no one was really acknowledging her, she pushed a button on the computer, which quickly whirred to life, flashing BIOS that I barely had time to read before opening a black screen that awaited commands. A hand beckoned us over, before she turned around and stooped over the keyboard, her fingers quickly turning into a blur as she wrote line after line of code, making me regret not paying attention when my teacher had tried to teach me C# all those years ago when I was in CompSci. A few presses of the enter key brought up GUI after GUI, as she tapped more stuff into it that I didn’t understand. Eventually the flurry of typing stopped and she stood upright, turning back around to face us. “Okay, let’s start with the basics. I haven’t had human contact in about… well, eight months, since you saw me last I guess. My mentor… well, I’ll get to that later.” Tabitha expositioned, as if she knew that one day I was going to start writing my memoirs. Or as if she knew that none of us had any idea what the hell was going on. “Since then I’ve been working on something huge, something that, if put into the right hands, will revolutionise the world. If it goes into the wrong hands… well, it’s just going to be used for random shit just for fun. However, even though you three are quite obviously the wrong hands, I need your help to do this.” Tabitha pressed a key, and a machine whirred to life, producing several person-sized tables out of the ground with VR helmet-like things built into them. “I have created a machine, that, if a person is connected to it properly, can create simulated worlds that could mirror our own in terms of scale and interactivity.” She said, puffing her chest outwards pridefully. I glanced to the other two, who were taking in this revelation just as I was. This big of a revelation, such a large scope, deserved only one response.

“Bullshit.”

#Cool Guy #Story #Writing #A Cool Guy's Cool Life #Creative Writing #Part 1

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lavenderhyrdrangea · 6 years

Text

A Much Needed Consultation

Viola’s hair came out in clumps when Butch ran a wide-tooth comb through it. Her jaw dropped at the sight of each ratty strand tangled around the teeth.

“What are we going to do?” She sputtered.

“We?” He used the pointed end of a rat tail comb to clean the hair, yanking away at the more stubborn pieces with his thumb and index finger. “This is between you and your hotshot robot here.”

Wadsworth quit his flitting about. “Excuse me? I was instructed to keep the treatment in her hair longer because her roots were strong, ‘like something grown out of a mutant’s scalp.’ Which is beyond me since I’ve never seen a mutant with hair.”

Still at work on the comb, Butch nudged his chin in Dogmeat’s direction.” You might as well go on and say something, mutt. That way you’ll be in on the fun”

There was a large chance that Dogmeat had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but he barked anyway—More likely at the attention than anything else.

“My hair emergency does not need your sarcasm right now.” She pulled at a loose hanging strand above her ear. It slid out with ease and she flailed it in front of her. “See?”

“Well quit pulling on it, Nosebleed.”

“It was going to fall out anyway.” She shot back.

“Let it then.”

"I don’t think you understand. Baldness and shedding hair is not the type of look the Lone Wanderer should be having.”

Butch snorted. “And they call me vain.”

“Butch. You spend thirty minutes every morning in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure that thing on your head is slick with pomade and gelled to a certain angle.”

“It’s called the Tunnel Snake.”

“Whatever. Do you have a diagnosis for me or not?”

He stepped back from the living room couch she sat on. There was a narrowing of his eyes and a rubbing of his chin. Where did this serious Butch come from and how long had he existed? As far she knew this was that same moron that replaced her hand lotion with mayonnaise back when they were kids.

Butch’s hand dropped from where it was and he ended up shoving it in his Tunnel snakes jacket pocket as his shoulders squared. Maybe in spite of herself her thoughts had written themselves all over her face and he read them straight.

“Looks bad.” He said. After taking his place behind the couch again, he took the comb and parted her damaged hair to expose more of her scalp. He pressed gently. “No chemical burns though. The damage shouldn’t be permanent.”

“Aha! Good one Master.” Wadsworth said at the horrible pun that would’ve slipped by had he not said anything.

She rubbed her temples. “I’m pretty sure there’s still a mess in the kitchen. Go clean it.”

Wadsworth left but not, of course, without muttering something about the perils of working under her and how little he is repaid for his service.

“How long did you leave that stuff in for? An hour?” Butch asked.

Viola grew quiet.

“An hour? Are you kidding me?”

“I know as a stylist--”

“Barber.”

He always corrected her but this time he sounded like he was seconds close to seriously taking a pair of clippers to the rest of the hair on her head.

Viola softened her tone. “Right, Barber. I know you probably salivate at a the challenge of a ‘thicker’ hair type but you haven’t had to comb it. “Ugh.” She shuddered “That comb.”

“Thick hair or not. Leaving the perm in for as long as you did was dumb. A professional could’ve told you that.”

“We’re broker than broke, so it’s not like I could’ve gone to Snowflake.”

“You do know we live together right?” He asked.

“I didn’t really have you on the top my list when I was looking at all my options. Maybe next time, Deloria.”

“Sure. Next time.”

His smile stiff, Butch rearranged the combs in his hair tool belt on the wobbly table across from the couch. Dogmeat swiveled his ears forward. Inching closer, he watched Butch’s hands and then eventually fell into sniffing them. He nuzzled them. Butch dropped a comb. “Tell the pooch to get away from my tools.” Dogmeat just looked at him with those warm, round eyes. He eased his hands back to where they were and gave him a soft pat on the head. “For now.”

She should have him told dogs appreciated scratches behind the ears not pats like the pre-war cartoons back in the vault made them think. But with things as they were that mode conversation would’ve veered off somewhere weird too.

“Dogmeat, want to listen to a song boy?” She turned the knob on her Pip-boy. Dogmeat’s ears perked up at the static of the changing radio stations. “Let’s see if we can find something good, huh boy?” She ended up on the Galaxy News Radio where Three Dog played Maybe by the Inkspots. It wasn’t Dogmeat’s favorite but it still got him on his hind legs, pressing his front paws and his weight onto her. She grabbed both paws and whirled him around as if they were slow dancing. She sung and he howled along to the line, “Maybe you’ll think of me when you are all alone.”

Playtime was short lived. With a yawn, Dogmeat took his paws from her and leaped onto to his favorite pre-war style chair with the thread and stuffing ripped out.

The dance ended with her back turned to Butch. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get you to do my hair. That one there would have been under your feet the whole time.”

She felt him stare. “Yeah, I guess so.” He said. Though finished the sentence seemed empty.

Heat crept up her neck. Viola went for the front door. “Stuffy in here.” She murmured. A breeze seeped in through the small crack she made by placing a worn wood plank between the door and it’s frame. The slight chill tickled parts of her scalp. “I’m going to have to get use to that. I’ll need to wear a hat out later.”

Butch asked, “What do you plan on doing when you head out?”

She leaned against the wall near the door and folded her arms. "Same old wasteland stuff that I’m always up to. Poking my nose in random people’s business. Sniffing out extra caps.”

She paused and moved her arms so she was hugging herself.

“Maybe looking into some new info on Project Purity.” She finally offered. Butch usually gave her space to do whatever but she had to feed him the vaguest of information because anything a tier above a bar fight was action he wanted in on.

With his eyes low, he grumbled about going upstairs quickly. When he came back down he had something that made clinking sounds in his hand. “Take this with you. You can stop by Snowflake’s this time.”

Her eyes widened. She shook her hand a little to hear the clinking again. “You had caps like this this whole time?”

“Sure did.”

“You never mentioned them.”

“What? You think I can’t make my own dough out here? I’m a barber. Not to mention a wanderer like you.” He snapped.

There it was.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hesitated before he gave in, “You didn’t.”

All of a sudden it appeared that he found the small hall to the mini kitchen a lot more interesting than their mess of conversation. That area was the usual safe haven for his booze and no doubt he had a taste for some at the moment.

“You...you,” Frustrated, he plopped onto the couch, slumped down into cushions and drummed his fingers on an arm rest. “You usually disappear without telling me much so I get up to some things while your gone. Because the Butch-man ain’t about waiting around for nobody, you know? Most of them are errands. Running back and forth from Megaton to Rivet City. A lot of my top paying clients from my first gig are actually from Rivet city anyway, so it made a load of sense to just factor the errands in.”

“You do all that on your own?”

Butch stopped his drumming to glower.

“Yeah, and I know how to use the big boy potty too,” He shook his head “From how you were talking two months ago I thought you would be more goody-goody about these types of things”

That day when Butch sprained his ankle and they talked about everything they ever wanted came rushing back.

“I meant everything I said then.”

“Considering that I’m some kind of glorified house sitter in that mind of yours, I’d say you got an odd way of showing it. Is this some nerd thing I’m not getting?”

“I need to give my actions time to catch up with my words a little. "She admitted

“You sure are taking it awful slow.”

He had a point. She couldn’t go on telling him one thing and then doing another, all while taking forever.

She sat on the other side of the couch. “Before you. Before even Dogmeat. I was out here on my own. Nothing can really prepare you for the Wasteland. I thought I would never adjust but I did what I had to. I got use to long walks on my own, the constant looking over my shoulder and not having much of anyone to really talk to but Moira. After a while, that panicky feeling I had the first time I opened the vault door pushed itself into the back of my mind. I had survived on my own well enough. Then everything came back.”

She spoke under her breath, “Oh boy did everything come back.”

“When I found my dad I felt like I was back at home. The dull colors, the beeping machinery, the antiseptic smells, the soft medical cots—I remembered all of it. I even remembered him telling me to pinch my nose and tilt my head back to stop a nose bleed you and your buddies caused. Then he was gone. Then Amata sent her distress signal. Then I was literally back at home and you know what happened with that—that was gone too. And now here you are, a fresh vault dweller, doing your best impression of Humpty Dumpty every chance you get.“

A meek, “Oh”, was all he managed.

She hoped she didn’t sound as bitter as she felt.

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t leave the vault just to hop into another one. “

“You’re right. I left that place behind for a reason. Besides, I can’t run a gang from inside this dump.” He said.

The beginnings of another argument was on the tip of her tongue but she did her best to bite it back.

“You also can’t run a gang if you’re laying out in a ditch somewhere with rad poisoning.”

“Can’t run a gang without any members either.” He retorted, meeting her muted annoyance.

In normal instances she would’ve treated the threat of being kicked out of the oh so tough Tunnel Snake Gang like a Radroach charging at her: a non-problem easily taken care of. It never bothered her before. Why did it now?

“But,” He slapped a hand on her shoulder “Lucky for me, one of my best recruits is a dynamo.”

His typical moronic naivete made her break into wan grin.

She rubbed her fingers up and down her neck. He hair catastrophe hadn’t been dealt with yet. “And what if your dynamo recruit decided to become another one of your customers? How would you fix this?”

Butch pulled back and took a good look at her mess. “For starters no more perms until we take care of that damage. We’ve got to cut the hair that can’t be saved and figure out what to do with the rest of it. I see a taper cut working for you. All your hair piled on the top. Shaved at the back...”

#Butch Deloria #Lone Wanderer.#Fallout 3.#Viola.#Must improve.#Punctuation outside of a period is somewhat confusing #My writing

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davidcarner · 6 years

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Reassigned Ch 4, The Scare

A/N: Hey, welcome back. You guys seem to be enjoying this one, as am I. About seven months ago, I began the story of Sarah vs the Life Unexpected, and it was absolute fluffiness. Now I realize we aren't to that level, yet, and there's a reason. That story went forward at 10 million mph. This one is going to be slower, but this chapter, I think we get fluffy, however, to get there we need to do something, please note the title. I'm giving you a spoiler up front, don't worry. Enjoy…I give you Reassigned, Ch. 4, The Scare

A/N 2: Thanks to Marc Von Kannon for some help with chapter 2, Angelgurl0 for all she has done, and Steampunk . Chuckster for helping me work out ideas. Also, if you're not reading Wade1978's newest fic, go! His Yogurt Girl is still one of my all time favorite Charah stories, and this one is good as well. Now, on to the Charah.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and I'm putting you on feel alert.

"That's doesn't make a lot of sense," Chuck said, reading a report. She snatched it away from him, trying to frown, but the grin on her face made it useless to even try.

"You really shouldn't be looking at those," she said.

"Not high enough clearance? Do I need more papers to sign?" he asked.

"No, it's just you're a good guy, and you don't need to see all of this," she said.

"But why would he enter the room like that?" Chuck asked. She looked at the report, raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"Not bad, Chuck, how do you know that?" she asked. He looked nervous. "Some secret you've been hiding from me?"

"Call of Duty," he replied. "It's a video game, a shooter." Sarah burst out into laughter. She made a notation on the report.

"Well, I'm glad-" she paused, mid-sentence, pain on her face.

"You okay?" he asked, looking at her, in concern.

"Yeah," she said, looking slightly embarrassed. She went out of the room quickly.

"When it hits, it hits," he said to himself. "I wonder if she has a spastic colon?"

"CHUCK!" she screamed. He jumped and ran to the bathroom door.

"What's wrong?" he asked, fearful of what could have this amazing woman sounding like that.

"I'm bleeding," she said, just above a whisper. He didn't have to ask where, because there was only one place that would make her react like this. Many times in his life, Chuck Bartowski would freak out when something went wrong. He would break down, worry, spiral, but this was different. This was Sarah Walker and her child, and he found something inside of him he didn't even know he had. He grabbed his phone.

"Ellie," he said. "Sis, Sarah is cramping and bleeding." He listened for a second, and then held the phone away from his ear so he could talk to Sarah. "What color is the blood?"

"It's red," she said, fear in her voice.

"Get her to her doctor now, at Westside Medical, I'll be waiting for you," Chuck heard from the phone that was nowhere near his ear. The bathroom door opened, and Sarah came out, grabbed her purse and tossed him the keys as they headed toward the door. "You're letting me drive the Porsche," he said softly, realizing how bad she thought it was. He grabbed her shoulders. "Sarah, I'm here, do you understand me?" She nodded, tears in her eyes. "I'm here," he said again, softer.

"Thank you, Chuck," she said softly. He led her out to the car and helped her in. Ten minutes later they got to the hospital and they both saw Ellie was waiting for them at the door. Chuck knew Sarah was feeling better because she was muttering that little old ladies drove faster than him. Chuck ran around to help Sarah out of the car but she was already out, giving him a look. "I'm good, thanks." Chuck nodded. She grabbed him hand. "I'm good because you were there," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Chuck stood there a second, grinning stupidly, when he heard the argument break out. "I don't need a wheelchair, Ellie!"

"Sarah Walker, you will sit in a wheelchair and you will do it now!" Ellie said. The two stared at each other. Chuck watched as the two squared off. "Do it for the baby." Sarah narrowed her eyes, but sat, reluctantly.

"Low blow, Ellie," Sarah said.

"Yeah, well when someone's being stubborn and you love them, you do whatever you have to do," Ellie said as she walked behind the chair to push. Chuck shook his head, Ellie stopped, and grinned when Chuck took the handles to he wheelchair. Sarah grabbed Ellie's hand. Nothing was said, but the two smiled at each other. "I'm here for you, and so is the nerd," she said, grinning and nodding her head toward Chuck.

"I'm grateful for you," Sarah said. "And the nerd," she added, grumpily.

"You know you love me," he said, pushing the chair. His eyes got big as he realized what he said, and he felt Ellie turned toward him with an amused smile on her face. There was no time for anything else as Dr. Alcott met them at the door. She took one look at Chuck pushing, glanced down at Sarah, who seemed calm by the situation and made a quick decision.

"Come on you two, let's get Sarah to her room," Dr. Alcott said. Chuck, assuming she meant Sarah and Ellie, let go of the wheelchair. Dr. Alcott looked at Chuck. "Not getting cold feet are we?"

"Chuck, you're coming, right?" Sarah asked. Chuck smiled at her.

"Yeah, I just thought that you might not want a guy in there, you know in case, you have to get, uh," he stammered. She grabbed his hand.

"Chuck, I need you," she said. He nodded, squeezed her hand, let go, and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair.

"Which way, Doc?" he asked. Ellie and Debbie shared a knowing look. Chuck followed them and had a confused look on his face. "Uh, doc she's not that far along," he said as they headed into a delivery room.

"The delivery rooms have everything we need already set up," Dr. Alcott explained. "We're going to do an ultrasound, and check for a heartbeat, and go from there."

"Oh, I didn't think you could do an ultrasound that early," Chuck replied pushing her through the doorway. As he went by Dr. Alcott to get her to the bed, she lay a hand on his shoulder.

"We're doing the ultrasound vaginally," she said.

"Then perhaps I should go outside," he said, helping Sarah get into bed. Sarah grabbed his hand and shook her head. "Close my eyes?" She gave him a grateful smile.

"Chuck, I'm not that concerned right now about what you see or don't see, I just need people I trust," she said. Chuck swallowed and nodded.

"I'm here, Sarah, right here," he said.

"Okay I'm going to step out of the room to get some things, Sarah you get into a gown, Chuck, close your eyes," Dr Alcott said, grinning, and Chuck did so, and turned and faced the far wall.

"Charles," Ellie said, chuckling.

"He's a good one," Sarah said. "Well, I guess we should hurry, I'd hate for him to accidently open an eye and see me here with nothing on." She watched Chuck flinch. Both women burst out into laughter. "Chuck, I'm decent," she said, and he opened one eye, and slowly turned around. Sarah was in bed. He came over, sat in a chair beside her, and held her hand.

"So, Bryce Larkin," Ellie said. Sarah nodded.

"Yep," she began as a nurse walked into the room.

"Hello, Dr. Bartowski, oh, I didn't know your brother was expecting a baby," the nurse said. Chuck's mouth went dry. "How far along are you, Sweetheart?"

"Eight weeks," Sarah said.

"Okay, I'm going to take some blood, and we'll get you ready for the doc," she said. "It's good thing you're here, Chuck," the nurse said to him. "So many dads just don't show up. They can be there for the fun, but not for the work." Chuck started to speak, and Sarah squeezed his hand. He looked at her and she gave a quick shake of her head.

"I'm lucky to have someone like Chuck," Sarah said. The nurse smiled, finished up, and left. Chuck began to sputter once she left.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I don't know their policy, and I need you here," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how that might affect you. I'm really sorry, Chuck." Ellie looked at him. Chuck squeezed her hands a few times before she would look at him.

"Hey, I could care less what anyone thinks of me," Chuck said. "In fact, I was thinking what they must think of you, having a big nerd as the father." Sarah stared at him.

"I wish the baby was that lucky," she said. Chuck didn't know what to say and Dr. Alcott came in.

"So, DAD," Debbie said, grinning and laughing. "I take it you're to be admitted with Sarah anytime she comes in."

"Yes, Dr. Alcott," Sarah said. "I'm sorry, I just thought," Debbie raised her hand to cut her off.

"Honey, you're scared, and he calms you, I don't care who you bring in here as long as YOU are comfortable," she said. She glanced at Chuck. "For the record, he's a good one." Chuck was speechless. "Now let's see how our baby is doing. Sarah, can you pull up your gown so I can see your belly while leaving the covers where they are?" Chuck whipped his head in the other direction. Sarah let go of his hand, pulled up her gown, and the doctor place a device over her abdomen. Chuck heard something quick and faint. He turned, stunned at what he was hearing, not even thinking about how Sarah was clothed.

"My bad," he said, as he remembered.

"No, it's good," she said, already having pulled the gown back down. He looked at her, there was awe on her face and she was staring at him.

"Is that?" he began, the same look of awe on his face.

"We have a heartbeat, so that is very good," Debbie said.

"It's so fast," he said, looking at Sarah, who was smiling at him.

"That actually normal at this stage of development, but the best thing," Debbie said, smiling. "That means a miscarriage is not happening." Sarah let out a sigh of relief. "Now," she said, pulling down the covers. Chuck began to turn his head.

"Just watch my face," Sarah said. Chuck nodded and gulped. Sarah made a face. "Cold," she said.

"That has got to be a little uncomfortable," Chuck said. She nodded, trying not to giggle.

"Excuse me, you two, this is a place for sick people," Debbie said, winking at Sarah. There was a tear coming out of Sarah's eye.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Hey, these I enjoy," Debbie said. "It's when you can't find the heartbeat…well."

"That's gotta be rough," Chuck said.

"Very," she said, and she smiled. "Ellie, turn that monitor please." Ellie turned it toward Chuck and Sarah. "There is your baby, and it appears to be doing fine." Chuck was watching the monitor, mouth dropped. Sarah had her other hand over her mouth, tears coming out of her eyes.

"She's beautiful," Chuck said.

"She?" Dr. Alcott said.

"I have no real idea," Chuck replied. "I'm just stunned."

"She is beautiful," Sarah said, looking at him. She knew she could do this alone, but she didn't want to. Not as long as Chuck Bartowski was in her life. Not as long as he was willing to help her, and from the look on his face, she couldn't imagine him being anywhere else.

"Now, there's some things we need to talk about, Sarah," Debbie began. "Should you and I do it in private or is it okay with everyone in the room?"

"Chuck and Ellie are welcome every step of the way," Sarah said. Chuck squeezed her hand.

"I'm here as long as you'll have my help," Chuck replied. They looked at each other and smiled.

"Do we have to have the talk with that wand where it is?" Sarah asked. Debbie grinned, Chuck whipped his head back toward Sarah's eyes, and she gave him the most appreciative smile. "That's better," she said. Chuck laughed. "What are you going to do during the birth?" she asked.

"He's going to stay on the north side of the curtain we put up, because I know Chuck Bartowski and he'll pass out in the middle of the floor if he looks down here," Debbie said. Chuck looked at Sarah.

"I guess I have my orders," he said.

"Thank you," Sarah said simply. He knew what it was for. It was for now, for the future, for all the help to come, and he was ready. He had only known her a few days, and he knew he was falling hard, but if nothing ever came of it, Sarah Walker had done the impossible. She had pulled him out of the funk he had been in and he would always be her friend for that very reason, regardless of anything that may, or may not happen between them, and he was going to help her with this, however she needed him to.

"Any stress?" Dr Alcott asked.

"You mean besides finding out I'm pregnant, moving cross country, and being taken to lunch by you two?" Sarah asked.

"What about Bryce?" Chuck asked. Dr. Alcott studied them.

"Bryce is?" she asked.

"The father," Sarah answered. "I just found out he died. Two days ago."

"And you didn't sleep that whole night," Chuck added. Sarah gave him a look. "You wanted me here, and this is part of it, understand." She set her jaw, nodded, but she wasn't happy. "I don't care how mad you get at me, if you don't tell her everything, she can't help you. That's the way it works." She nodded, reluctantly like a petulant child.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Debbie said. "He's right, Sarah. I don't know if the stress caused this, but it didn't help. You have a cervical polyp. If you weren't pregnant, I'd go in and take them out, but I can't. Chances are, getting pregnant caused it. Now," she glanced at Chuck. "You sure I should tell you everything?"

"He's here, he's a pain in my butt, but he's here," Sarah said.

"See, I'm growing on you," he said. She glared at him. "Admittedly, like a wart, but growing." She shook her head, fighting the grin.

"Okay, these polyps will bleed from time to time, especially when they are irritated, like when you have sex," Debbie said. Chuck's eyes got big.

"Uh, I didn't, we didn't, I mean I don't think she," he looked at Sarah, who had an eyebrow raised and an amused smile on her face. "I'm just gonna shut up."

"So every time I have sex between now and when I deliver I will bleed?" Sarah asked, turning back to Debbie who was trying not to explode with laughter. Debbie shrugged.

"Maybe, or you might never bleed again," Debbie said. "It is harmless, it should not deter your sex life."

"Okay," Sarah said, casually. Chuck looked like he wanted to crawl under the bed and hide there. Sarah wasn't about to let this go. No, she was going to enjoy this. "So I've heard things about sex during pregnancy, like your drive really increases." Debbie nodded.

"Perfectly healthy and natural," Debbie said. Chuck was turning five shades of red and studying the far wall.

"And it won't hurt the baby?" she asked, grinning. Debbie shook her head, knowing what she was doing, and joining in.

"It is absolutely fine," she said.

"I read a study that it actually helps some babies," Ellie said. Chuck turned to look at his sister, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

"Well, if it's for the baby," Sarah said. Chuck really wanted to hide. She looked at him. "Are you coming to the birthing class?"

"You said, every step of the way," Chuck said. Sarah smiled at him. She was sure this was gonna be okay.

-ooooo-

"Come back if it starts back up, or if it starts bleeding for no reason," Debbie said.

"But if I have sex, I don't have to?" she asked. Debbie shook her head and Chuck was trying hard not to listen. "Any restrictions?"

"Nope, you and your partner can have all the sex you want," Debbie said, trying not to burst. Sarah reached over and took the keys to her car away from Chuck. He looked at her.

"Come on, you owe me a date, remember?" she said. Ellie nearly squealed, but held it in. She did hug both of them at the same time.

"Ellie, the baby," he said. She let go of Sarah and pulled him in tighter. "Ellie, me!" he choked out. She pulled away, and looked from one to the other. "Ellie, will you calm down, I'm going to take her out, show her Burbank, let her do something fun before the baby comes, that's all." He gave her a hug, and went to get into the car.

"That's all?" Ellie asked. Sarah was standing where Chuck couldn't see her. She bounced a shoulder and grinned.

"You heard him," she replied. Ellie hugged her again. Sarah got in the car. "Where to?"

"Feel like Mexican?" he asked. She nodded and started the car.

-ooooo-

"You can get a beer, Chuck," she said.

"No, that's not fair to you," Chuck said. She reached over and took his hand.

"Chuck, you didn't get me this way, you aren't required to do all of this," she said, smiling.

"Sarah, what part of I'm here for you are you not understanding?" he asked. She studied him. "I am here for this, now if I'm here too much, then tell me and I'll go there."

"What if someone wants to date you, what then, Chuck?" Sarah asked.

"What if someone wants to date you, what then, Sarah?" he asked as an answer. She sighed. "Okay, right now, I am not in a relationship with anyone, but I have this friend who is going through some stuff and she is my first priority. Not because I owe her, or feel indebted, or anything like that, but because she means the world to me."

"You've only known me a few days," Sarah said. "And, honestly, you don't really know me." He shrugged, leaned back, proud of himself like he had won that and waited for her answer. "If someone wanted to date me they'd have to be willing to be there for me in the good times and bad, and what guy is going to want to date me? I'm ex-CIA, I'm a barely functional human, and I'm pregnant with another man's child."

"If they had any sense, all of them," he said, leaning in toward her. "Listen, I get you come from a background of secrets and holding in feelings and all this, but you want me here for you, so here's the thing, you Sarah Walker are a good person. I may not know much about you, but I know you. I could be locked in a hole if you didn't stick up for me. Instead you've turned your life upside down, and have me staying at your apartment."

Sarah stared at him. A real life is what she wanted. Maybe what she needed to do was be honest, something she wasn't good at.

"Chuck," she began, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "I've had a life of secrets and lies, and I can't do that anymore."

"Okay, so what do you need from me?" he asked.

"Chuck, no secrets, no lies," she said. "I don't need to know everything about your past, but whatever happens going forward, I need the truth."

"You can't handle the truth," Chuck said, leaning back, grinning. She studied him.

"Chuck, I like you, and you're a good guy that I don't think I deserve," she said. She swallowed. Chuck stared at her, and then got the dopiest grin on his face.

"Sarah, I'm crazy about you, and I love the fact that you keep trying to blame all your snuggling on the baby," Chuck replied. She leaned in.

"Prove it," she said, grinning.

"No secrets, no lies," he replied. She turned her head, bitting off a curse, and grinned.

"Okay, Bartowski, I like snuggling with you," she admitted. "I like being around you, I like the way you make me feel, but I have a baby I have to put first."

"Yes, you do," Chuck said. "And I get that. I'm not kidding Sarah, I'm here. Whatever we do or do not have, you are my friend and you've helped me realize I need to live life, and that, that is something I can never forget."

"Friends," she said. "And the rest?"

"The rest we'll deal with, but we'll be honest about it," Chuck said. She nodded.

"You are still totally freaking out about the bleeding though aren't you?" she asked, grinning.

"How are you not?" he replied. "How can you just be calm?" She shrugged. "I'm not joking Sarah, whatever happens, I'm here, just be honest with me." She nodded.

"I'm not good at real life," she admitted. "But I've got a pretty good teacher."

They talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. They finished their meal, and Chuck took her to hear a local band. She didn't know much about music, but Chuck loved it, and she enjoyed dancing. He wasn't a terrible dancer, but he also wasn't the best. She really didn't care, they were having fun, and she had never felt so free. Chuck suggested one more stop on their date and a little while later she found herself sitting on a beach, watching the stars with Chuck. She watched the waves crash into the beach and just felt an overwhelming sense of peace. She lay her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.

"You're gonna be a great mom," he said. She looked up at him.

"I am going to be terrible," she said, laughing. "But I'm going to love this baby with all I have."

"That's why you're gonna be great," he said. "Plus you'll have Uncle Chuck to help out."

"Uncle Chuck?" she asked. He missed the look on her face, the one of sadness.

"Whatever you want the baby to call me," he said.

"You don't mean that," she said, looking away.

"Sarah, I do," he said. She studied him, and shook her head.

"Chuck, how about we cross that bridge when we get there, there's no guarantee I carry this baby to term," she said. Chuck pulled her in close, and she let loose the tears of worry, and fear that had she had kept bottled up all day. Chuck held her, wishing he could take away all of her pain.

"Hey, the baby's alright, I didn't pass out," he began. She laughed into his shoulder. "And Ellie is going to lose her mind, if you don't quit teasing her."

"Who says I'm teasing her," she said. She pulled back and looked at him. "Chuck, I want this."

"Sarah," he began, and her phone rang.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she growled. She pulled out her phone. "Walker, secure, with the protectee."

"Walker, we're going to have a public funeral for Larkin, and I need you to go," Graham said.

"Sir, it's 2 am here, what time is it there," she snapped.

"The funeral is in ten hours," Graham said.

"Oh," she replied. "I'll have to take Chuck with me."

"We know, Walker, and it would make sense them being roommates," Graham replied.

"That is the dumbest thing I ever heard, Bryce got him thrown out of Stanford," Sarah said. She heard paper shuffling.

"That's not in his record," Graham said.

"Chuck told me, and I'd take his word over Bryce's any day," she said.

"Walker, are you having a relationship with him?" Graham asked.

"That is none of your damn business," Sarah replied, she felt Chuck hug her, trying to soothe her. She leaned back against him.

"You're done aren't you, Sarah," Graham said. He used her first name. It was over.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"You were one of the best, Walker," Graham said. "Will you stay on in your current role?"

"For now," she said. "I'll be there at noon," and with that, Graham disconnected.

"You okay?" Chuck asked. Sarah snuggled more into him.

"I'm great, I just told the director of the CIA I was done being an agent and I don't have one regret," she said. "I'm scared to death, and I have to go to the funeral of my baby's daddy."

"So, a Wednesday," Chuck said. Sarah grinned. "I got you, Sarah."

"I know, Chuck," she said, softly. "I know."

A/N: Go check your blood sugar… Til next time…hope you enjoyed it! Reviews and PMs are always welcomed!

#Reassigned #Chuck #Sarah #Charah #fanfic #fanfiction

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petertheparkers · 7 years

Text

a tiny bit jealous

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: Reader has been friends with Peter since forever, and has been in love with him even longer

Requested by: n/a

Warnings: sadness, slight self-consciousness

Word count: 2,018

Notes: There! Will! Be! A! Part! Two! Message me if you want to be tagged in it! Writing this gave me major feels you don’t even know.

Part two

Crushing on your best friend is hard. Crushing on your best friend and watching them fall in love with someone else is infinitely worse.

That was how you lived your life. You had been irrevocably in love with Peter Parker since the sixth grade. But you sat idly by and listened to him gush about Liz Allen, Midtown's prettiest and smartest senior. It also didn’t help that she was incredibly nice, you couldn’t hate her even if you tried. Day in and day out, you bit your tongue as Peter ranted about how beautiful he thought she was.

Which is exactly what he was doing at lunch that day. Ned, your’s and Peter's other best friend, sat beside Peter at your normal table. You chose the seat opposite them and, as usual, Michelle was at the other end by herself, nose embedded deep into a book.

"She's just so..." Peter trailed off with a dreamy look on his face. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, sharing a silent conversation with Ned. He knew of your obvious feelings for Peter, the whole school knew. Except for the science nerd in question, who was so blind to your affections you wondered if he needed to see a doctor.

"I like Liz as a friend and all, but I don't think she's right for you." Ned began, and you shot him a look that screamed 'shut up now'. Peter's head snapped towards him, disbelief written on his features.

"What? Why not?" Peter asked. Approval from his friends meant a lot to him. You glared at Ned, taking a bite out of your apple without saying a word.

"Because I know someone who likes you." Ned blurted and you internally screamed. Ned was infamous for being unable to keep secrets. You were surprised he was able to keep your feelings a secret for so long.

"That's an understatement." Michelle snorted, her gaze not leaving her book once. Traces of a blush began to form on your cheeks and you felt your mouth go dry. Michelle had pieced your feelings for Peter together on her own, but you knew she wouldn’t say anything about it—as long as she wasn’t asked.

"Who?" Peter asked, now fully investing his attention to what Ned had to say. Ned glanced quickly at you, and you feigned interest as a way to not seem suspicious. Thankfully, Michelle was staying out of the conversation.

"I promised I wouldn't say anything and you know I'm trying to work on the whole 'secret-keeping' thing." Ned rambled, trying to dig himself out of the hole he made. Peter gave him a look of disbelief, like he couldn't understand why his best friend was keeping something as important as someone crushing on him a secret.

"Before either of you start insulting each other with elements off of the periodic table, I'd like to remind you the bell is about to ring." You butted in, and as if it was on cue, the shrill ringing pierced through the cafeteria prompting you to stand up quickly and walk ahead of the boys. If Ned did end up cracking and spilling your secret, you did not want to be there.

"I'm just saying, Yoda could have picked a better time to die." You argued from your spot on Peter's couch, your friends flanking you on either side. You spent countless hours in this apartment, considering Peter had been your best friend since forever and your parents were rarely ever home. You didn’t mind though, the Parkers were more than kind to you.

Tonight had been one of your regularly scheduled movie nights at Peter's. You sat with your legs crossed, arms making wide gestures as you spoke. Ned opened his mouth to debate, but was cut off when May swung open the front door, a box of pizza balancing in one hand while she tried to get her key out of the lock.

"Hey, May." Peter called, instantly jumping up from his spot on the couch next to you to help his aunt. You smiled lightly to yourself, always loving when Peter showed thoughtfulness towards his aunt and other people.

Ned, noticing you staring, elbowed you in your ribs before Peter saw. You blushed, but were nonetheless thankful for Ned pointing it out. It would have been so much worse if Peter had caught you.

"So, (Y/n)," May began, and you twisted around on the couch to face her as she leaned against the table in the kitchen. May was, for lack of better phrase, a cool aunt. She had always acted as a stand in parent you could look up to, which you had always been grateful for. "Have you gotten a dress for homecoming yet?" You tensed slightly, eyes darting to Peter for a quick moment. He coughed, choking on the slice of pizza he had stolen from the box.

"Actually, I don't know think I'm going." You shrugged, picking at the chipping paint on your nails. Truth be told, you wanted to go to the dance, but you wanted Peter to go with you. And, since he failed to ask you yet, you had resigned yourself to not even going.

"What? Why not?" May asked. You shrugged once again, getting up to walk over to the kitchen table. You didn’t really want to stay on the topic anymore, all it did was remind you of your feelings towards Peter that weren’t reciprocated.

"B-but it'll be fun." Peter tried to reason with you, a deer-in-headlights look on his face. You flashed him a tight-lipped smile. Leaning slightly to your left, you nudged Ned with your shoulder to gesture towards him.

"I'm just waiting for the right guy to ask me." You finished off your sentence with a playful glare at Ned, who laughed in return. Although there was some major truth behind your sentence, you played it off liken you were waiting for Ned to ask you. You felt May staring holes into the side of your head, and when you met her gaze, her eyes darted between you and Peter, with her brows raised in a questioning matter. You bit your lip, silently willing her not to say anything.

Apparently, everyone could see you loved Peter.

Except Peter.

A few days after you had declared you wouldn't be going to homecoming, you sat in Peter's room doing your homework as he sat at his computer desk on his phone, having finished his a while ago. Usually he helped you with yours, but a text he had received was apparently more interesting.

"How do you do math?" You groaned out, dropping your pencil onto the paper. Peter didn't spare you a glance, which annoyed you. His attention was on his phone, which made you slightly jealous the device was getting more attention than you.

Peter Parker made you jealous of a phone.

"Parker!" You called out, unsuccessfully, as he still ignored you. It wasn't until the third time you called his name did he look up, a goofy grin mixed with excitement plastered across his face as he met your gaze. You felt your heart pound in your chest and your mood become giddy as you took in his slightly messy hair and ruffled sweater. He looked adorable, and without even saying anything he made you fall in love with him all over again.

"You will never guess what just happened." He spoke up, breaking you from your trance. You quirked a brow, waiting for him to reveal what had just gotten him in such a good mood. "I just asked Liz to homecoming and she said yes!" You felt your heart sink into your stomach at those words. But, being the good friend you were, you forced a smile onto your face, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice cracking. You turned back to your homework in an attempt to hide the tears beginning to form.

The boy you loved was completely enamored with someone else.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Peter asked. For once, he wasn't being completely oblivious. But you wish he was. You felt completely stupid as your heart shattered. You knew he deserved to be with someone he liked, but you couldn’t help but want that person to be you and not her. You couldn’t even hate Liz, she was pretty and smart and everything you thought you weren’t.

“I’m just not feeling too great, I’m gonna go home.” You lied, stuffing your books into your bag without meeting his concerned stare. You knew you would be putty in his hands if you looked into the beautiful brown eyes that held so much worry for your well-being.

God, why does he have to be so nice? You internally ranted.

“(Y/n).” Peter said, grabbing your wrist to stop you from packing up. Your heart raced in your chest and your skin burned from his touch but you tried not to focus on it. Now was not the time to be distracted by him. “Are you okay? Do you need me to walk you home?” You briefly met his gaze, but dropped your head back down when you realized he noticed the tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m fine. My stomach hurts, that’s all.” You muttered as you tried to rip your wrist from his grasp, but he held tight. He wasn’t hurting you, and you knew he would never try to. You weren’t completely lying with what you said. Your stomach did hurt, but it was because the fact you had just lost Peter—your best friend since childhood—to Liz, was hitting you in waves, each stronger than the last. You felt like you were going to be sick. You were genuinely heartbroken, but you were upset that Peter could have this effect on you—without even officially being together. You were in deep, and you didn’t see a way out.

“You’re not fine and you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” Peter tried to put force behind his words, but his ‘in control’ demeanor immediately faltered when your head snapped up to him. By now, anger had mixed with your sadness. Frustration with the whole situation had built up and you wanted nothing more than to leave Peter’s apartment and never come back.

“Peter. Let me go.” You hissed and Peter immediately dropped your hand. Instead, he opted to block your path out of his room. You didn’t mean for it to come out so rude, but your patience had run out quicker than usual. You didn’t know if you were mad at yourself for investing so much of your heart in Peter or if it was because he was so blind to your affections.

“Just tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper. It was as if he was afraid that if he spoke any louder he would upset you more. You ran a hand down your face, you didn’t see any other way out of this situation.

“I like you, okay? A lot. And it physically hurts me to sit there everyday at lunch and in gym and in every other freaking class and listen to you go on and on about Liz. So, excuse me for trying to not rain on your parade and leave before I let my emotions go crazy, but clearly that didn’t work!” Your voice grew louder with each word, and by the end you were practically yelling. The tears that had brimmed in your eyes earlier had finally escaped when you mentioned Liz, and now a steady stream of tears left wet tracks down your cheeks.

A moment passed in silence and you waited for Peter to say anything. He stood ramrod straight, a shocked expression on his face. Another minute passed and neither of you had said anything. Three minutes. Four. He said nothing, and the silence broke you.

“I should leave.” You finally spoke up in a weak voice. This time, Peter didn’t protest. All he did was step to the side, finally letting you through.

And you left without another word.

#Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker oneshot #Peter Parker drabble #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker headcanon #Peter Parker fanfiction #Peter Parker fanfic #Tom Holland #Tom Holland!Spider-Man x reader

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