#bought some markers today. they are not great but this might be the best thing I’ve drawn ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sqoiler · 3 years

Text

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue.

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?”

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors.

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand.

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms.

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper.

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school.

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work.

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman.

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards.

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says.

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead.

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that.

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol.

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure.

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish.

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards!

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?”

Steph whirls around.

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen.

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house.

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says.

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him.

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her.

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him.

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says.

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully.

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back.

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december)#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

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whumpmatsus · 3 years

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aaaa are you still taking the sickfic requests?? maybe "don't speak" with choro as the sickie pls?

SickFic Prompts / ACCEPTING!

Don’t Speak - (character) has a horribly sore throat and is reduced to barely talking while they load up on hot drinks and soup to recover.

yesssss always!!! I had so much fun with this, it hit me right in the Honey Nut Feelios and I hope it does the same for u, sunshine 😩

After still feeling like total crap for several days while his brothers were almost completely recovered from the cold they’d all caught, Choromatsu finally breaks down and goes to the doctor.

He doesn’t really want to. Being sick is something they all hate, and continuing to suffer after everyone else felt better is just astronomically unfair. Sometimes he thinks he can will himself back to health if only he sleeps and takes medicine and does everything a sick person is supposed to do.

The others prod at him to get checked out, though, considering the fact that lately every time he’s tried to speak, it’s set off a cough and is painful even to those just listening.

When he comes back home with a pharmacy bag and an informational sheet proclaiming that he’s been diagnosed with laryngitis, it explains a lot.

He has little choice but to hand the sheet over to Osomatsu as Karamatsu comes over to help remove his scarf and coat and walk him over to the kotatsu. The eldest of them doesn’t necessarily know best all the time, but usually when one of them is sick or hurt with more than a cold or a tiny scrape, Osomatsu often slides into big brother mode and shows a surprising amount of maturity.

For once, Choromatsu is actually glad his oldest brother is taking charge of the situation.

“Okaaaay, guys,” he calls as Choromatsu settles in at the table. “So this thing says Choromatsu has… acute laryngitis. The doctor thinks it’s because he had a cold, I guess, since it says ‘viral cause’. Huh.”

Everyone else is already seated around the kotatsu since it’s the middle of winter and freezing. Jyushimatsu’s arm shoots up right away. “Oh! What’s laryngitis? That’s a funny word. Are we gonna get it too?”

Choromatsu opens his mouth to try and explain, like usual. Instead, he manages to get out a weak, “Probably not,” before he starts to cough.

“Hey,” Osomatsu pouts as Karamatsu pats the third eldest on the back, “this thing says you’re not supposed to talk if you can help it, Fappymatsu. So, y’know… shut up.”

What he gets in return for his efforts is an unimpressed glare.

Osomatsu grins, running a finger under his nose before looking back at the information sheet. “Well, I’m not wrong! Okay, so… the cold was contagious, but it says the actual laryngitis isn’t. It’s just some kind of throat thing that happened because of the cold. So it might happen for the rest of us, but I doubt it since we’re all feeling better already. Choromatsu just has bad luck, I guess.”

Karamatsu hums in thought and continues to rub his brother’s back. “Hmph, we’re probably safe then. Which means we just have to focus on taking care of our dear brother. How do we do that?”

Choromatsu holds the bag from the pharmacy up, allowing Ichimatsu to snatch it and dump the contents out on the table. He points toward the things he picked up at the doctor’s recommendation ― over-the-counter painkillers, lozenges, a throat spray, and cough syrup. There’s other stuff mixed in too, like tissues and a jar of yuzu-cha and a magazine. Though he could have lived without everyone seeing that, it’s not a huge deal.

Osomatsu waves the paper before picking through everything on the table. “Well, it says they don’t have any kind of prescription to give him. No antibiotics since it’s viral. Looks like it says the cough medicines and painkillers might help. ‘Home remedies may also provide temporary relief’… like tea and soup, huh? So we should probably try to keep the bastard hydrated with warm stuff.”

Karamatsu gets to his feet, grabbing the jar of yuzu-cha on his way. “In that case, why don’t I go mix up some of this for you right now? After being out in the cold air, your throat could probably use something warm. Want me to add a little honey?”

Choromatsu nods eagerly, mouthing, “Yes, please.”

Karamatsu’s face brightens at being useful, and he gives an exaggerated pose before heading into the kitchen. “What a good patient! Your big brother will be back with something soothing before you know it!”

“Hold on,” Totty comments as he scoots the lozenges, spray, and syrup toward him, “did you get all this stuff to take for your throat?”

His eyes scan over the labels, then roll back in his head when he’s finished. “Ah, Choromatsu-nii-san! You can’t take all of these at the same time. See, look. They all say ‘do not use with other medications containing’ ― uh ― well ― w-well, I can’t pronounce the word, but it’s the same one! They must all contain this ingredient, so you can’t take them all in the same day.”

Ichimatsu makes a gesture for Totty to hand them over, then nods after reading them. “Yeah, he’s right. If you take all these in the same day, even if you use each one like the directions say, you’ll be basically overdosing on this shit. Your mouth’ll go numb. Be drooling all over the place and maybe having trouble breathing.”

All the medicine is plucked from his hands by Osomatsu. “Okay, so we’ll rotate ‘em, and I’ll take care of giving it to you whenever you need medicine. Y’know, so that fever doesn’t fry your brain and make you forget which one you’re taking for the day. Which one do you wanna use today?”

Choromatsu lets out a soft groan which only serves to irritate his throat further. He could seriously just kick his own ass for not checking that before he bought all of those. The only excuse he has is that he’s in a lot of pain and not thinking like he normally does. He points to the spray, thinking maybe it’ll feel kind of like sour spray candy; once it gets sprayed on, it melts and lingers for a minute, which might be a nice quality in a medicine for sore throats.

“Alright, open up.” Osomatsu tears off the plastic packaging. “Totty, Ichimatsu, did either of you see how many times I’m supposed to spray this?”

“Two sprays every two hours as needed. But it’s only supposed to stay for fifteen seconds, then he has to spit it out. He’s not supposed to swallow it or it might give him a stomachache. Totty, you wanna go get an empty cup for him to spit in and a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth afterwards?”

“What?? Why can’t you do it? Your legs aren’t broken!”

“Yeah, but I’m busy.”

“Are you kidding me? Doing what?!”

Ichimatsu shuffles himself closer to Choromatsu and puts an arm around his big brother. “I’m his emotional support Ichimatsu.”

Choromatsu chuckles a bit, though it turns into coughing pretty quickly.

“Oh, my God. Now you know why you’re not first in my brother rankings, right?” Totty grumbles, but gets up anyway. “Fiiiiine, I’ll be right back.”

The idea of an emotional support anything is nice, though, so Choromatsu leans into the contact, resting his head on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. As it is, the fourth eldest is almost like a cat, warm and cuddly when he feels like it.

His fever must be getting to him, because he could even swear he hears Ichimatsu purring.

The next three days in the Matsuno household are, predictably, a little wild.

Although Choromatsu sleeps on the couch in the other room so that his coughing doesn’t wake his brothers, it’s pretty much all for naught. At least one of them ends up missing him in the night and coming to camp out with him anyway; he just counts his lucky stars that when he needs them most, they show themselves to be pretty great brothers.

He also practically lives on soup and tea. Mom and the others try to switch it up a little, because otherwise eating and drinking the same things every day would drive him nuts. Plain miso and zosui were fine for the first day, but after he could breathe through his nose and smell things again, they started offering him other stuff.

Honestly, shogayu and negi-miso-yu have never tasted so good. Now that he can taste the yuzu-cha, too, and Karamatsu prepares some for him at least once in the afternoon, it’s like a small slice of heaven. He’s pretty sure Karamatsu can tell how grateful he is even without words, if the stupidly proud look on his older brother’s face whenever Choromatsu drinks it is any indication.

His throat still hurts like hell for a while. It’s difficult to speak, so Osomatsu, in his infinite wisdom, has relegated his brother to using a mini dry erase board and marker if he needs to say anything. That doesn’t mean Choromatsu doesn’t try to talk. He does his best not to if he doesn’t absolutely need to, however, since he wants to be rid of this thing more than anyone.

Thankfully, everyone is apparently using this as an excuse to treat him nicely. He gets to sit in front of the TV watching Nyaa-chan concerts almost nonstop, while nestling in against his emotional support Ichimatsu. Karamatsu in particular keeps checking every twenty minutes or so to see if there’s anything he can get for his little brother, and whatever Choromatsu asks for, he gets. Hell, at one point he’s craving ice cream, even though milky things aren’t a good idea for someone who’s coughing, and Karamatsu comes back with a melon ice pop, which is almost as good.

Totty even manages to do something nice while typing away on his phone. He says he’s got Choromatsu a date. With a girl. Who likes pop idols. Who’s really excited to meet him as soon as he’s better. He says he texted her a picture of Choromatsu and she thinks he’s really cute. It’s perhaps a good thing that he can’t say much right now, because he’s sure he’d scream loud enough to lose his voice a second time.

Jyushimatsu even sits there on Choromatsu’s other side, and reads magazine articles to him whenever they’re not watching TV. Of course, he doesn’t read the dirty articles… well, he doesn’t read those out loud after the first time he tried and everybody ended up crying with laughter. They all joked that even when he was sick that would be Choromatsu’s main priority, and for once, he laughed along with them despite the fact that it made him cough.

The one who surprises him the most is Osomatsu. Maybe that shouldn’t actually be a surprise, though. He fills the role of diligent oldest brother with a lot more ease than one might expect; he breaks out the thermometer every few hours to make sure Choromatsu’s fever isn’t getting higher, he keeps track of which medicines Choromatsu is supposed to take and when, he helps Mom cook things that will help Choromatsu feel better, and if he’s not doing any of that other stuff, he’s positioned with Choromatsu sitting on his lap, with Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu on either side, running his fingers through his little brother’s hair. It almost feels like the way things were when they were all kids.

Choromatsu is easily tired out when he’s sick, and he’s 99.99999% sure that it’s Osomatsu who carries him to bed every night when he inevitably falls asleep.

Despite the fact that he gives them a lot of shit, and none of them are perfect people, he knows he’s got some pretty amazing brothers.

Today he’s feeling nearly back to his old self, and his throat is less sore than it’s been in over a week. He knows it’s partially thanks to rest and partially thanks to how well his family has been taking care of him. Despite that he’s starting to recover, the others are still treating him much the same as they have been. Tea whenever he wants it ― as well as Karamatsu shoving it in his direction, urging him to drink with that pathetic puppy dog face of his, even when he doesn’t quite want it ― and lots of head pats and the TV turned to whatever he’s in the mood for.

He’s not quite as tired as he’s been lately, so it would be all too effortless to just take advantage of all this. Instead, his thoughts have just kept turning to how grateful he is to have so many people he can count on.

There’s some small part of him that has to admit he can be just as bad as they all are sometimes. He can be selfish and rude and lazy. But when one of his brothers is sick or hurt, he knows he steps up to the plate to try and take care of them. To know that they’re all willing to do the same for him when he’s the one in need makes him happier than he thinks he’s been in a long time.

He’s still got the dumb little whiteboard Osomatsu gave him, because his voice isn’t back to normal just yet. For a moment, he scribbles on it, then he holds it up for Osomatsu who’s sitting behind him. “Hey, Oso,” he speaks up in a quiet, breathy, raspy voice.

“Uh…! Hey, dumbass, you’re not supposed to be talking yet,” Osomatsu laughs, then lifts his head to look at the board. “… Huh? Choromatsu… hey…”

He laughs in a way that makes it sound like he’s about to cry, then takes the board and waves it to get everyone else’s attention. “Hey, guys! Haha… look! Look at this shit!”

Four other pairs of eyes turn in their direction. Practically as soon as everyone has processed what Choromatsu has written, he’s buried in a pile of brothers. He gets arms put around him, and kisses on his forehead, and everyone nuzzling against his face. They’re all laughing in that same way Osomatsu did…

… Well, until they all start actually crying. Including Choromatsu himself.

The whiteboard falls to the ground, mostly forgotten, but the words written on it hanging over the sextuplets like a rainbow.

Thanks for everything. I love you guys. 💚

#Osomatsu san #whump #Choromatsu #Osomatsu #Karamatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #illness #laryngitis #caretaking #UGHHHHH THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD BOYS DAMMIT #I'm crying into my tea I love them so much look at them aLL AGGRESSIVELY TAKING CARE OF ONE OF THEIR OWN

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sunlit-squid · 3 years

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

A Cosy Night In ~ Choi Seungcheol

As you walked through the door after a long shift at work, you couldn’t believe what you saw before you. Seungcheol was sat on the sofa with a smile plastered wide across his face, standing up as you walked in to help take your coat off and settle you down on the sofa.

Your eyes took a while to take in all that he’d done, transforming your home into the perfect romantic hub. “I tried my best with what I had, I thought we could have a night in together, no distractions.”

“This is perfect, as are you,” you smiled, pressing a rewarding kiss to his lips. His hand slipped into yours as he walked you over to the sofa, decked with plenty of cushions and blankets.

“It’s been such a long time since we were able to spend a night together without work, or someone getting in the way. And I know you’ve not had it easy recently so I thought this would be the perfect chance for us to be together,” he told you.

He laid himself down first before laying you in between his legs allowing your hair to fall down the sides of his strong torso. His chin rested on top of your head as his hands laid over your chest, the two of you stared up at the chain of fairy lights he’d put around the place, old photos of the two of you clipped to complete his chain.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked through them all, each one of them held a memory the two of you treasured, some represented good times, others not so good, but each one was a part of your story that the two of you would never forget about, even if sometimes you were desperate to do so.

One photo stood out to you more than any other, it was your first photo you took together at his studio late at night, both of you had had a little too much to drink, neither of you really knew where your relationship was going, but the love you had for each other was still clear in both pairs of slightly hazy eyes.

“I can’t believe you went to all this effort,” you whispered up to him.

He couldn’t lie, he was proud of himself, a lot of hard work had gone into trying to give you the perfect night off. “It was a lot of fun, looking through loads of our photos certainly gave me a chuckle too. It’s only when you sit down and see things properly do you realise how far the two of us have come.”

“I can’t believe you even found some of your pre-debut photos, honestly what were you thinking with some of those hairstyles, I don’t know what I saw in you,” you sniggered, pointing to one in particular, with a bright red do, “you looked ridiculous.”

Looking back, the two of you could only chuckle about the silly things you did, crazy looks you carried, and random things you said. Most people looked at the two of you like you were crazy, but it was true when people said you really made the perfect pair. It was impossible for people to know you without Seungcheol and vice versa, everyone knew you as the team you were.

“Eight years seem to have flown by, and yet looking at all of this it feels like we’ve done so much,” you sighed, feeling his lips press to the top of your head. “Just think how many more memories and photos we’ll be able to add to this, all the things we’ve still got to achieve.”

“Maybe we should keep it up?” He suggested, smiling as your head nodded in agreement. “I’m not just saying that because I made it, but I think it’ll be nice for us to just look over and add to, we’ll fill the whole room eventually with photos of the two of us.”

You turned in his hold so that you could look up and face him, “if this is what we have after eight years, imagine what the rest of our life will look like.”

Your future together was something Seungcheol had thought about a lot recently, a lot of those thoughts he kept bottled so not to scare you off.

“What do you think the rest of our life will look like?” He asked you.

“I want everything, marriage, kids, growing old together, all of it with you.”

“That sounds like the dream jagi, hopefully one day we’ll be able to turn them into reality.”

“I think we will, I don’t wasn’t to share these times with anyone else,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled contently as your fingers traced over his tummy, it was a habit you had since the very start of your relationship that always comforted Seungcheol, the comfort in knowing you were with him always made him happy, especially knowing now he had the rest of his life to look forward to with it.

“I brought some of your favourite snacks in the kitchen too,” he told you, sitting up with you still wrapped tightly around his chest, “the woman at the store knew I was buying for you straight away, I got all the things you usually buy for yourself.”

You refused to move leaving Seungcheol little option but to carry you into the kitchen, grabbing the bag of snacks before settling back down with you on the sofa, making sure you were comfortable settled closely against him.

As he began to talk you through what he’d bought, each packet was perfect to what you’d usually buy. You looked at him stunned, you never realised how much attention he really paid to you.

“You even got the gummies I like,” you giggled, tearing the packet open and popping one into your mouth, “maybe you listen to me more than I give you credit for sometimes.”

“See, you might think I’m not listening, but I’m always listening to you really because I care. I remember how you like your tea sweet, that you always put your left sock on before your right because you’re superstitious, all the little things,” he grinned.

“I don’t know whether it’s because of what you’ve done tonight or you look better than you ever did in those photos, but I think I’m more in love with you then I ever have been.”

He couldn’t help but coo, kissing the tip of your nose, the two of you were growing up and maturing, but so often you still felt like the kids that met in the middle of the shopping centre.

“That’s because love is exponential, with every day that passes our love for each other grows stronger as we spend more time connecting with each other and learning about each other,” he softly spoke, “and I truly believe that applies to us. I loved you yesterday, obviously, and I am so in love with you today, but I know tomorrow when I remember tonight, I’ll be even more in love with you.”

“You can tell you’re a songwriter,” you teased, cupping the side of his face, “but I think you’re right. In fact, maybe we should take a photo to put up there so we can remember the first night we shared with our new storyboard on the wall?”

He nodded, sliding his phone out of his pocket, “that’s a great idea, it can be the marker for everything else to begin from.”

“We can sit back and continue seeing how our love grows.”

---

Masterlist

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #s.coups #s.coups imagine #choi seungcheol #seventeen reaction #seventeen scenario #seventeen drabble #seventeen one shot #seventeen fluff #s.coups scenario #s.coups reaction #s.coups drabble #s.coups one shot #s.coups fluff #seungcheol imagine #seoungcheol scenario #kpop #kpop imagine

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Photo

Discredit Part Three! (Click on each pic for something resembling quality!)

Part One---contains translations, podfic, and related works---Part Two

Tagging, credit, and transcript all below the cut 💜

First off, people who specifically asked to see more of this nonsense may God in all Her glory bless you accordingly:

@internet-or-sleep, @just-some-girl-on-the-internet, @readytoocomply, @vocallsama, @fellowshipofthegay, @lucky-leafeon, @alph4centauri, @sumoranges, @diaphanedreams

Aziraphale’s profile pic is courtesy of good old Neil, found here. All others are from Creative Commons.

Sorry it took so long to produce more stupidity. YOU ALL ROCK 🎊🎊🎊 Here, have a messy transcript.

Abdou G.

Have you ever walked in on a conversation and, despite clearly missing the majority of it, feel like you could reconstruct it, word for word if necessary? That happened at Fell’s today. The ‘talk’ had obviously been going on for a while, but I can give you a perfect summary here: rude fuckboy thinks he gets to say who God is, Fell was having none of it.

Best response? Turn around, walk back to your apartment (pro-tip: this only works if you’re just a few blocks away), and change your shirt. I walked back in with my I MET GOD, SHE’S BLACK tee and had the pleasure of seeing Fell do a double-take.

“Yes, thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

***

Doug E.

Scout’s honor: I once saw that Crowley dude unhinge his jaw and eat a large pizza in one goddamn bite.

Update: you heathens read about this gay abomination with his dislocated jaw and what you decide to question is whether I was acTUALLY A SCOUT?

***

Mary L.

I came in with my four-year-old last week fully intending to keep him within sight at all times. Yes, I bought one of those kiddie leashes and no, I don’t regret a thing. You try holding down two jobs as a single mom to the bonefide antichrist. I love my boy, but the devil got to him, telling him things like, “Yes, Freddie, permanent marker would look just great on Mum’s only work jacket!”

I said as much to the owner because this mom needs to vent sometimes.

I wish I could give this place a higher rating, but the ownership is frankly terrible. Inconsistent hours, no help when you’re trying to find a book, just basically all around bad customer service, BUT it still gets five stars because when I told the guy I was raising the antichrist?

“Oh yes. I did that myself not too long ago!”

We parents need to support one another. Otherwise the world is going to burn. So here’s a good review for you, Mr. Bookshop Guy. A part of me hopes you’re a better dad than you are a bookseller. The other part? The bigger part? It’s very aware that Ms. Pot here just met Mr. Kettle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Freddie just got into the flour.

***

Alfred B.

I hereby nominate Mr. Fell as the British Steve Irwin. I’ve never seen anyone handle a red bellied black snake like that. I mean yeah, they’re a chill species overall, but there’s a difference between casually handling a snake and fucking chucking one onto the chair because it’s in your way. (Okay. Maybe Irwin was a little nicer.)

Renee K.

whos steve irwin?

Alfred B.

...How old are you?

Renee K.

Alfred B.

You existed on this planet for two years with him and you dare to ask me this? Go boil your head and then use google. Good god.

***

Mark F.

overheard the owner telling his boyfriend that last they met his brother tried to set him on fire? and succeeded?? actually now that I think about it, not sure which brother they were talking about---his brother or boyfriend’s brother--but WHOEVER has the brother needs to... i don’t even know. do something about that? ring the police or go to therapy or SOMETHING. i mean maybe they already have, i’m just an eavesdropping tourist, but the idea of someone setting that bow-tie cutie on fire—DID I MENTION THAT? PERSON ARSON. MURDER—makes my blood boil

***

Shiefa N.

People aren’t joking about overhearing weird conversations here. I walked in on two men (owner and husband? owner and escort?) debating Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know, that stupid kissing game the better looking kids got to play in middle school. It got pretty heated at one point (pun not intended), arguing about whether seven minutes of making out was divine or damning behavior. I hung out long enough to catch the segue into a lust vs. love debate and then had to skedaddle. Nice couple. I support their weird flirting habits.

***

Chang Z.

Is it legal to visit a store for things other then what it sells? I realize that makes me sound druggie or something but I swear I’m dealing with a much healthier addiction. (Ha. Maybe.) I cosplay (yeah, yeah, move along, trolls) and Mr. Fell has an absolute wealth of historical clothing. It’s astounding! I thought they were particularly detailed costumes at first, but no. I’m majoring in Textile and Apparel Studies. I know a naturally worn piece of fabric when I see it. Mr. Fell is always cracking jokes about how he wore this frock in the 19th century, this shirt in the 17th, oh don’t you just love my old vest? (He has... so many vests...) I indulge him because anyone who lets me borrow this stuff for free deserves all my attention and fake laughter.

Yeah. You read right. Artifacts borrowed for free. He’s even let me alter some of the stuff because I’m not exactly his size. Should this stuff be in a museum somewhere? Probably. Am I calling anyone to take my personal cosplay supply away? Noooope.

***

Leah M.

Helping to spread the word here because I’m not sure how much foot traffic this place actually gets.

I pass Fell’s every morning on my way to work and yesterday there was a new sign in the window. This might not seem very interesting to most people on here, but you’ve got to understand that Fell’s never changes. None of it. I’ve lived in Soho since I was a boy and this place has always had the same placard with his insane times listed, same stripped paint on the door he’s never gotten around to fixing, same spiderweb in the corner I absolutely swear. My dad used to pop in there when he was in college and I swear he’s taken me through the stacks, points out books that haven’t moved in 30+ years. It’s nuts and more than a little bit impressive.

So you can imagine my shock when I passed by and saw not one, but four new papers in the front window. They’re drawings and I recommend going and taking a look for yourself. I don’t think I can accurately describe the utter chaos of crayons and glitter that’s displayed there, let alone what it’s trying to depict. A dystopia? The end of the world? If so the apocalypse features a surprising number of dogs.

There’s a fifth paper off to the side, written in Fell’s messy penmanship. It just says, “My god-children drew these!” and if that’s not the cutest things you’ve ever heard get out of my face.

***

Gabriel A.

azirfell

alzaphral

azzzzzirafal

i’m a litttle drunk but azifjkaafha’s place is good he just needs a name easier to spell

***

Aziraphale

Dear Gabriel A,

My partner Crowley told me about this site and the many lovely well-wishes you all have left us here. I have come to express my thanks and to offer a bit of advice. You are hardly the first person to struggle with my name, dear girl! I recommend the following three step process:

A - simple, yes? + zira - a nickname I’ve adopted over the years, easy enough to recall + phale - this is admittedly more difficult as our ending, “phale,” is neither spelled in a way nor presumed to be pronounced like the “fell” sound we end up with. In truth my name is more along the lines of Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but change is inevitable and you needn’t hear about that transformation, nor the etymology involved in getting “fell” out of “phale.” I say this not because I don’t wish to teach you, but because my partner has reminded me--in a rather rude tone I should add--that this site has a word limit. Suffice to say you should simply memorize the “phale” portion and you shall be, as the expression goes, in tip top shape!

Best regards,

Aziraphale

P.S. Nothing personal, dear boy, but I fear I’m not terribly fond of your name either. I would highly recommend changing it if you’re ever of a mind to do so. Cheerio!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #long post #good omens fic #(apologies for that)#(tried for text post and the quality was totally unreadable)#pgnbri #attempting to tag you here #since tumblr won't let me do it in the post :/

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iraniq · 4 years

Text

Birthdays be like...

# Thomas Andrew Felton:

/the scene happens in England/

- you woke up early to prepare breakfast

- barely slept the night from excitement

- half way through someome kissed your ear

- "woke up 2h ago to walk Willow, saw all, but thanks for trying"

- "go away, it's a surprise"

- "let me help in then, love!"

- "you can't help in your birthday surprise"

- "watch me"

- ends up helping in his birthday surprise.

- you singing 'ophelia'song to him, incapable to replace it with Tom and still spunds good

- he made thousand videos and pics of you stumbling with the song

- no pancake hit the floor!

- still officially forbidden of giving Willow secret not dog food

- talking about Willow, she came fast when she heard voices

- ending up making dog friendly pancake

- flipping it right on her face /was already cooled/

- Tom got it all on video

- "look now, oh hi Willow, catch"

- "did you just flipped the pancake to fall on her face?"

- before you can say yes, there was no physical memory of the pancake

- watching cartoons on the couch

- "looks like someone is sleepy"

- "nooooo"

- "well if you hadn't stayed till 2 in the morning last night..."

- "was excited for your birthday"

- "and you said it like thousand times"

- "i am excited for birthdays, and yours is a special one"

- forhead kissed

- he muttes something that endes with 'love', but tight hugs and stroking hair, is one way ticket to dreamland

- bonus: Willow is a warm pillow on your lap

- afternoon long walks

- laughter

- singing on the streets

- silly pics

- pillow fight at home

- Willow stole yet another one

- "Willow's pillow fortress is getying bigger"

- "because you can't say no to your child, and instead taking them from her, you keep on buying new ones"

- fancy, low key filthy sexy looking dress for dinner

- a comedy movie no one watched...

- ... because pillow war revange

- and somewome had to keep an eye on popcorn

- food thief detected

- sloberly kisses and yet another pillow missing

- "just jump in the pool with the dress, love"

- drying hairs in the midle of the night

- matching pajamas

- Willow at board

- "your child just stole my sock"

- "she is your child now too..." - halj asleep deep british voice

- "ok, then, our child, just stole my sock"

- more forhead kissed and love mumbles

- snuggles

- "will meet you im dreamland"

# Erich Blunt:

*Ok we have all seen the tik tok - "take your clothes off" and how the girl spits her drink, and we all reacted like that*

- after midnifgt visit at the big house

- you have a special 'multipass' key card

- wake him up at 12:02 with *coughs* love

- everywhere

- i mean everywhere

- possible

- in the house

- then maybe at 5 o'clock in the company

- the boss chair, that's unfortunately a super normal one, because he refused to have fancy cabibet

- in the virtual relity room

- junk food at the sunrise on a super random place

- naps in the big, too fancy for naps, bed

- mid afternoon flight to a dessert rave party

- yes... plain checked

- matching outfits at the party

- the looks he gives you

- yes... at some random spots in the crowd

- his poker face is out of this world

- stargazing and hand holding

- tents at feativals are not soun proof...

- both umable to human the next day, dozzing off in the plane

# Julian Albert Desmond:

- a workoholic, scientist, perfectionist... with a metahuman bad experience inside his head... He could tell by the air in the room, something was off...

- a surprise was way beyond imaginable

- imagine everybody's faces when you casualy dropped at the station, introducing yourself

- "she is a spy" - Cisco said

- "Julian mentioned he had a girldriend...but i thought it was just for the excuse" - Barry said

- "nope, alive and in the flesh"

- you announced his upcoming birthday in a week and asked for help

- they were all instantly in

- same day, Barry got 'late'

- the captain gave them a case in the far abandoned aide of town, Caitlin was in the car with him, non stop talking, how Ciaco and HR are unbarable. Iris and Barry...

- he wasn't paying attention at this point

- the building looked suapicious

- they entered, only to see the whole Team Flash, including Dr. Wells and Jessie, holding a cake, with this so familiar red sugar you have been buying lately

- he knew your surprise will pop up eventually

- you knew he was late after work, no more metahumans hate, but you nevwr poked the subject

- "no one told her" - Barry reasured

- "she is overworking today, and instructed us, quoting 'get his ass the cake, or i will end you!', she is scary for a librarian" - Iris noted

- "she certanly is"

- all laugh

- "candles blowing in abandoned and possibly dangeroys area, great"

- all laughing again

- *insert Julian's sarcastic remarcs*

- "people skills, Julian"

- A fot Ain't even trying at this point

- afterwork party at the park

- Julian being soft

- Caitlin being low key jealous

- romantic dances under the stars

- you wearing a long mid transparent nightgown and his "explorer hat"

- *insert adult content here*

# Logan Maine:

*AU where they woke up the passangers a week before artiving at Thea, notjing hit the ship*

/haven't yet finished the tv series, so some info might not be true/

- after Mia, Logan didn't plan on having friends, or being close to someone

- not that he planned to befrend Mia...

- aftee several days of you being sweet carring and maybe a bit rude, and an epileptic episode later, he was tolerating you

- maybe more than toleraring, but he wasn't gonna admit it

- he was astonishing cook to start with

- you tried making cake, when you found out

- failed!

- but the unhealthy ammount of chocolate syrop on it, fixed it

- him dipping fries in the chocilate...

- *Logan what?!*

- walking around the 'garden'

- him pushing you towards the spraying water

- trying to name the plants only to end up with: "if it's not weed..." - he laughed

- "you are failing at being horrible"

- "trying to be, but that smile of yours isn't helping"

- marker writing on the station windows, connecting stars in odd shapes

- sneaking on others

- "is Baum a perv, or just a perv"

- "Shun and Lana are totally a thing"

- low key stealing extra pills for his epilepsy

- who'll suspect the cool sweet kid's teacher

- stealing food from your supervisor's cabim, after you went asking her, what Logan liked, so you can make a romantic dinner

- she didn't gave you much info, but the odd plastic half liquid sweets you stole definwtly tasted good

- "the A woman stealing? Your crush on me is ruining your good name"

- "maybe i am tired of a good name"

- "don't tell me you go to another planet to be a criminal"

- "lools like i might have the best teacher"

- "only om small crimes, like stealing a pretty girl's heart"

- his odd winks

- that smirk

- kisses in the dark

- he "found" some extra blankets

- 2 burritos on a way after midnight open space gazing

- Shun may have cought you drawing the odd funny shapes, but told no one - you were holding hands, giggling drawing one ovee another, was way too cute to tell on

# Draco Lucius Malfoy:

/Around 6th-ish year maybe.../

- how you pick a present for someone who has everything, literally everuthing

- bargins with Pansy for info

- Theo gives it all free

- Blaize asked for unknown favor

- no one actually gave you smth to work with

- Draco was bitter

- even the good fight with Potter didn't lift his spirit

- nor the -10 points

- you even owled Narcisaa, but nothing

- difficult problems require simple solution

- his favourire clothes of yours

- your Gucci pefulme on his scarf

- this beyond ordenary way you bite off from his green apple

- the thing with the shy eyes and devil smile you love pulling on him

- touching his hair

- scratching his hands with your long nails gives him the good chills

- changing in that gorgeous emerald green dress he bought you for the Christmas ball

- pinky hand holding

- getting cold, so he can give you his coat

- him and his long coat

- messy pearl hair

- stolen kissed under his tree

- brushing your nose in his cheek

- teasing each other

- in your own bubble in aftwenoon class

- again -10 points... each

- professor Lupin felt the pain of ceperating the lovely sight you were, so he can continue his lesson

- party at the boy's bedroom

- eating the cake his mom send you, instead of dinner

- whole friends group having pure childish fun, sharing silly stories

- levitating around in pretend swim manner

- cake

- *coughs* wine *cougs*

- late night walk to the astronomy tower

- him showing you the stars

- the Dragon again, because you can never place it right

- him knowing you pretend not to know, so he can have an excuse to give you silly shoulder kisses

- you tip toeing to reach him

- passionate kisses under the stars

______________

@diyunho @lovermrjokerr @darthjokerisyourfather @littlebeautifly

Whoever enjoys it as well 😛

#birthday story #tom felton #thomas andrew felton #erich blunt #murder in the first #julian albert #julian albert desmond #the flash #logan mine #origin 2018 #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter

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simp-for-spencer-reid · 3 years

Text

Sugar with a Side of Coffee- Ch. 1: The Chance Encounter

Chapter 1: The Chance Encounter Series Masterlist

Cate tied her yellow apron around her waist as she prepared for her first day at the mobile coffee cart. The Empty Mug was a small, family-owned coffee shop located in the midst of a busy Quantico, Virginia. They had decided a new way to increase business would be to take it to the streets, with a coffee cart. The shop was starting to hit its busiest hour of the morning, the pre-work rush.

“Oh, thank God!” gasped Marta, daughter of the owner of the shop. “You’re just in time!” Marta quickly handed a customer their change and hustled to the backroom where Cate was fixing her name badge on her chest.

“Couldn’t miss my first day manning the new cart.” Cate smiled at her favorite coworker. The two girls hauled the cart out of the storage closet, which proved to be a feat in itself as it came with a lofty umbrella, the same yellow as their aprons. As they neared the storefront door, a customer on their way in held the door. “Thanks.” Cate pushed out, she couldn’t wait to get the cart outside where she could just wheel it.

Once on the sidewalk, Marta wished Cate goodluck and hurried back into her parent’s coffee shop, to tend to the rest of the customers. Cate shoved the large umbrella into a socket on the top of the cart, and began to set up her station along the busy road.

Despite being surrounded by enormous buildings and skyscrapers, the streets and sidewalks were still quite sunny. Cate wished she hadn’t forgotten her sunglasses in her car. She felt like she was squinting at each customer as they gave her their orders. The umbrella did little to help with the sun, but Cate still had it up anyway, she found that the big yellow parasol attracted more customers.

Cate saw a variety of people along her street. Many people in suits briskly walked by, some stopping for their morning coffee, it was more convenient to stop at the cart than actually inside for some. Most of these people in suits would be simultaneously talking to their bluetooth ear pieces or their cell phones while they ordered from Cate.

The only people who hadn’t been on the phone while placing their order were young interns grabbing their office’s coffees for the morning. Her most common intern was Brooke, who was punctual with an order of four drinks: a latte, a hot black, an espresso, and a decaf. Upon her arrival at exactly 8:45, Cate had her orders ready in a tray. Brooke smiled a thanks.

“I’d stay and chat, but there’s a new project we’re working on and our graphic design team really needs this.” She gave a company card to pay and plopped a five in Cate’s tip jar. “Catch ya on my break!” And with that, Brooke just about jogged off, taking care not to spill any of the coffees on her way to her building.

One of Cate’s favorite things to do was memorize her usual customers’ orders. She took pride that she could have a customer’s coffee prepared as she saw them in line. Cate estimated that she knew about twenty different customer’s orders since she started a few months back. Working in The Empty Mug was something that Cate not only enjoyed, but also made great tips from, especially if she put up with some flirting from businessmen. That in itself is partially the reason she memorized orders; to rush the flirtatious businessmen along and keep their interactions short and sweet.

Cate watched as a short, stout blonde walked up to the cart with her thick, red rimmed, cat-eye glasses. She had a cell phone in hand but was starting to read a large order to Cate.

“Okay, hi, I have a lot of orders so I hope you’re ready for it!” the blonde started. She took in a big breath, “I need a cappuccino, and macchiato, a latte with dairy free milk, a large hot with extra extra extra sugar, a medium hot regular, an espresso, and a medium hot black.” She exhaled.

“Coming right up,” Cate smiled. “Do you need those labeled?” Cate grabbed a marker, just in case.

“Oh, yes please,” She smiled graciously. “The cappuccino needs to be PG, the macchiato EP, the latte JJ, the large extra is SR, the regular is AH, the espresso is CT and the black is DR. Thank you very much!” Cate pushed buttons on her register.

“Your total comes to 14.68.” Cate was handed a twenty and the blonde insisted on putting the change into her tip jar. “Thank you, I like your glasses.” Cate smiled.

“Thanks! Bought them on the web.” Cate handed the blonde customer two drink trays and watched as the blonde carried one on top of the other.

“If you spill those on your way, just come see me and I can make you new ones.” Cate said nervously. She wasn’t supposed to do that, but it was a lot to carry for one person.

“Noted,” the blonde smiled, and bustled off to whatever job she was off to.

Penelope just about flew out of the elevator and into the bullpen. Emily helped set the top tray of coffees down onto the desk next to the copying machine.

“They’re all labeled with your initials!” Penelope exclaimed. “From the new coffee cart station, part of The Empty Mug.” Emily was twisting the cups, looking for her initials.

“CT?” Emily questioned.

“Chocolate Thunder.” Penelope huskily replied, passing it to Derek, who had walked up to retrieve his order. Spencer quickly approached the desk, and plucked the biggest cup from the tray, knowing he had the largest order of the bunch.

“This coffee might just be the best I’ve had.” Emily said after she took a sip of her macchiato. “We should try to order from here more often.”

J.J. was walking in and grabbed hers before beelining to Hotchner’s office. Hotch called a meeting to discuss the next case, and just like that the unit sat around the round table drinking their coffees from their new favorite shop.

It was just about 1:30, a half hour before Cate was meant to close her cart and head back to the shop to finish her shift. She tied her hair up into a ponytail at the back of her head, instead of half up like before. The sun was making it hot standing on the busy street. She moved around to the front of her cart to put away the chalkboard menu sign. She twisted a lid back onto her tip jar and knelt to check her stock of creamers, and sugars and flavors on a shelf. Cate would have to make a note to restock her sugar jar. Between all the typical sugar in a coffee and that large coffee which might as well have been a cup of straight sugar, her typical supply had been depleted.

“You know the cart was very convenient.” Brooke mentioned to Cate, scaring her in the process. “The line was a lot shorter than going into the shop.” Brooke smiled, leaning her elbows onto the cart. Cate stood up, adjusting her apron and pushing her hair out of her face.

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” Cate was still fussing with the different coffee pots on her cart shelves.

“Need help bringing this bad boy back to the shop?” Brooke was already grabbing one side of the cart.

“Yes, please!” Cate exhaled.

Cate came home with almost one hundred dollars in tips, her half of the split tips between her and Marta. She just about ripped her shoes off at the door, letting them thud to the ground as she greeted her small, light orange cat. Changing out of her uniform, and into some leggings and her college sweatshirt, Cate could take a quick nap before cleaning her apartment.

As soon as Cate had laid down on her couch, her phone chimed, alerting her of a text message.

Marta: tell me you don’t have plans friday night

Cate sighed before typing her response, I should finish up my lesson plan project, but I have a feeling you want to go out.

Marta: it’s like you can read my mind… let’s go down to the pub and celebrate the new cart :)

Cate’s phone beeped again.

Marta: Pleeeeeeeease??

Cate laughed to herself before typing back, You’re lucky I love you.

Cate stretched as she woke up for another early day working The Empty Mug’s coffee cart. Her little orange cat, Shrimp, stood by her side, watching her intently with his green eyes.

“Let me guess,” Cate pet Shrimp’s head, “Your bowl is empty.” Shrimp mewed up at her, and jumped off the bed and scurried to his food in the kitchen. Cate followed her little cat to the kitchen. “What would I do without my personal, fuzzy alarm?” Shrimp impatiently rubbed his head against Cate’s ankles. Cate grabbed his cat food from her cabinet, and put three scoops into his bowl.

Cate let Shrimp crunch away as she walked back to her bedroom. She pulled out her usual uniform, which consisted of a white button up, her choice of black or tan pants, and the signature yellow apron. Taking this pile of clothes into the bathroom, Cate ran the hot water to the shower and brushed her teeth.

After a refreshing shower and changing into her uniform, Cate grabbed her purse and put her shoes on in the makeshift mudroom bench in the hallway of her apartment. Making a quick run to her kitchen to grab an apple from her fruit bowl, she snatched her keys from the counter and was out the door.

Typically, Cate would take the stairs from her third floor apartment, but decided to take the elevator today. There was something in the air today that made Cate feel unusually on edge. The walk to The Empty Mug went by faster than normal, most likely due to Cate’s quick pace. Upon her entry to the shop, Marta gave Cate her usual smile.

“Ready for your second day?” Marta said cheerily. No customers had entered the store yet, so Cate and Marta could take their time bringing the cart from the back of the shop.

“I’ve had a weird feeling this morning.” Cate confessed. “I can’t shake it.” She pushed the cart through the door.

“Oh,” Marta furrowed her brows. “Want to switch? I’ll take the cart and you can have the shop?”

“No, no. That’s okay.” Cate sighed. “I got it.” She forced a smile. Suddenly, she remembered, “Shit, I need to refill the sugar before I go out!” Cate ran behind the counter and grabbed an unopened canister to refill the jar once at the location.

“Alright, well, text me if you need me.” Marta shrugged. The girls successfully got the cart and umbrella out of the front door before any customers managed to come by.

“Yes, captain!” Cate laughed and made her way down the street to the spot designated for the cart. She set up the umbrella, positioned her chalk menu- not before jotting a coffee pun on it- and knelt to refill her sugar behind the cart.

People jostled by and before she knew it, Cate was in the middle of the morning rush just as she was the day before. As she was behind the countertop of the cart, she heard a man’s voice.

“Are you open yet?” he sounded in a rush. When Cate peeked up from behind the cart, the man was looking at his phone, fingers typing away on some text or email, she guessed.

“Yes sir,” Cate brushed her hands on the sides of her apron. “What can I get for you?” She smiled, even though the man hadn’t bothered to look up from his phone.

“A large regular, and a danish” he spoke, nose still in his phone.

“You got it!” Cate said in the most unnaturally cheery voice. She prepped his coffee, and pulled his danish from under a glass cover. “Comes up to 4.18” Cate pushed buttons on her register. The man shoved a five at her and walked away without his change. Cate put it into her tip jar, hoping the rest of her day would be filled with better customers.

Today’s shift was getting better and better. Brooke stopped by earlier with the same promise of stopping by later on her break. Customers had overall been tipping well, Cate’s jar was getting fuller and fuller. The line of customers would deplete as Cate took their orders, but as soon as it dwindled, more people lined up. On the lower end of a swell of customers, Cate had a few new faces. Next up, was a kid in his late teens. His fingers jittered along the counter top as he rested his hands on the cart.

“I’ll have a medium cold brew with an almond swirl. Can I also get a slice of banana bread?” Cate smiled and nodded. When Cate turned her back to make the coffee, the teen made a grab for the tip jar and began running off.

“He’s got your tip jar!” the next woman in line yelled. Cate didn’t know what to do, this had never happened before. Her hands began to shake and she felt tears of frustration build in her eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought.

There was another man behind the woman who leapt into action and started chasing the thief. Cate watched as they ran through the opposite direction of the current of people on the street. The man in pursuit shouted.

“FBI, stop running!” The thief’s gait faltered. This gave the agent just enough of a stride to grab the thief by the collar of his jacket. “Drop the jar, and I’ll pretend I never saw anything.” the agent ordered. The thief shoved the jar into the agent’s hand and took off running.

Cate swiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand before the agent could approach her cart. She was shaken up and didn’t know what to do or say.

“I believe this is yours.” the agent handed Cate her glass jar filled with money. He was tall, with long hair. Cate gently took the jar and placed it behind her counter. No amount of money was worth risking that again.

“Uh, thanks” Cate said shakily. “You really saved my ass, there.” Cate tried to joke. The agent pursed his lips together and went back to his spot in line. The woman before him thankfully had a short and sweet order, allowing Cate to relax her racing heart and thoughts. The agent stepped up next in line. “What can I get for you? It’s on the house.” Cate smiled at him. “Can I, uh, get a medium hot black but can you put it in a large sized cup so I can put my own sugar in it?” He looked nervous for requesting such an odd order. “Of course, not a problem” Cate got to work filling a large hot cup about three quarters full. She handed the agent his coffee and also the sugar dispenser. In the same exchange, he passed her a ten dollar bill. “For the wasted order, and a tip.” He smiled nervously at her. Cate placed the ten in her register, and watched as he poured about half of the sugar into his coffee. “I remember your order.” Cate spoke before she realized she thought out loud. “Pardon?” he looked quizzically at Cate.“Sorry, yesterday someone came by and ordered a large hot with an insane amount of sugar, I just refilled today and you’ve already gone through half of it. You might as well just order a cup of sugar with a side of coffee.” Cate rambled with a smile. “Um,” he paused, lost for words. “Sorry.” he came up with.“It’s fine. It’s meant to be used, right?” Cate felt herself blush. So that’s S.R. she thought to herself.

#sugar with a side of coffee fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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weirdponytail · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story {most of the stories posted en masse today are my earlier stories that I’ve built upon}, so I have changed a bit of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy the story.)

~~~

"Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?" Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn't the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. "It's one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking." She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom's upper pocket. "Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside."

"I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?"

"It's ten extra Crowns." The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk's clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn't react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. "We'll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don't have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse." Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. "Thank you."

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. "How's Arya going to–"

"Shut up. Not here." Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It's little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

"Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?" The boy asked, stretching tiredly. "Don't tell me she's going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us."

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, "Open that."

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. "Well hello."

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. "How the hell did you just–"

"Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it." Eragon backed away from the window as the woman 'hopped' into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. "Don't gape. I parkoured most of it. It's forty bloody feet up, even we can't do that."

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. "Did anyone see you?"

Arya shook her head. "No. If they did, it was at a distance."

"Good thing we had you switch clothes." The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, great. I'll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I'll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I'll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still."

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. "I might have an idea." He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. "We're pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag."

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn't want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. "Here! This could at least cover your ears. It's not perfect, but it'll be good in a pinch."

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, "Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies." And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

"Who wants to shower first?" Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. "Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done."

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. "Ah, I don't care. I'll go first if you don't want it, Brom."

"All yours." The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. "Feel free to shave. There's a razor in there, fuzz face." Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. "Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you're at least out of easy sight."

"Was planning on sleeping there anyway." She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. "Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. "You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one." She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. "So, um...you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don't they know you're an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can't you just go as is?"

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. "They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional...remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur's crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second." Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. "So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave."

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don't trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?' He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you, though? You're helping them, and you've fought for them. Don't they respect that? Haven't you at least tried change their minds?"

Arya leveled her gaze with his. "Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I'm sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves." She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. "Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can't let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I'm okay with that."

"Don't give the boy any ideas." Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. "And no getting him drunk. Unless I'm there. Then, well...we'll see."

Arya waved him off. "I know, I know."

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. "Alright, who's next?" He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

"You're up, kid." Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya's arm. "When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I'm putting that lightly."

The elf chuckled. "Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I've gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It's been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point."

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. "Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!" He lifted his head slightly. "Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room."

"I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda." Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

"–nds the economic report. Here's Karl Yorgisson with the day's news."

Brom snorted. "Told you."

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. "Shush, I want to hear this."

"Thanks, Jason." Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. "Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–"

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. "Well, that's good. They're not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can't inform the general public about us or why they're searching for us."

"Attacked Gil'ead my arse." Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. "I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don't need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period."

"Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can't cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion." Arya pointed out. "Besides, they'll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. "Wait…. You're telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?"

"Never happened?" The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. "Of course they never happened! We don't send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there." She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. "Honestly! It's too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!"

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. "Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?"

"That is different." Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. "We weren't attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I'd prefer it if you didn't make quips about it."

"I apologize." Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. "It was in bad taste."

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. "Apology accepted. I shouldn't have snapped."

Murtagh shrugged. "Eh. Natural response." The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon's off key humming, and country music. Then, "What's a frin br… fyrn bri…."

"Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language." Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. "Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term." He jerked his chin in Arya's direction. "If I'm not mistaken, that is."

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. "Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Arya's jaw tightened slightly. "Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory." She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

'Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.' Murtagh's heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he'd probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.' The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

"Oi. Don't sleep yet. You have to do laundry." Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn't even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, "Then wake me up when it's ready to be done." and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

"I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep." She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man's reaction.

"Can't have you wandering around out there." Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. "If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast."

"So I'm pretty much useless at this point in time?" Arya asked dryly. "Dear me, I'm in a room where I can't leave. Out of one jail and into another."

"Don't get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh's and maybe the angst will wear off." The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. "Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?"

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. "Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?"

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, "Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. "I'll be done in a minute!"

"Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!"

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. "He's a teenage boy. He needs his alone time." She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. "Better he do that in there than when he thinks we're all asleep."

"He should have thought of 'alone time' before he left Carvahall." Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. "And trust me, you don't get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind."

"Poor Saphira!"

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"You could have just told me to hurry up." The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, but then you wouldn't have actually gotten out right when I asked."

"Well, I wasn't–" His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. "I wouldn't do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?" Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything." Arya put her hands up. "What you do in the shower is none of my business."

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. "You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh's."

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn't seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

"You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to." She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon's general direction. "If you...um...if you don't want to sleep on the floor we could...you know, split sheet."

Eragon's ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout." The Rider mumbled a 'good point' and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf's dark eyes. "Is Saphira doing alright out there?"

"Yeah. She's asleep." Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. "I think she's a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she's been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night."

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya's lips as she turned another page. "I think we've all earned a little rest."

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira's sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. "Yeah." He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. "G'night, Arya."

"Good night, kid."

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh's bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

"Take as long as you want." Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. "I'm sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep."

"I'll try not to destroy the entire hotel's hot water supply." Arya grinned wryly as she stood. "I'll wake you if anything concerning happens."

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

"Heads up." Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. "Good night, Arya."

"'Night, Murtagh." The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph' of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon's left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh's borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. "From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they're setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak."

Murtagh's muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. "Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–"

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. "What's the alarm about then?" He checked that Zar'roc's hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

"They're trying to lure us to the emergency exit." Brom growled. "Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her."

'There won't be anything to see if I eat them all.' The dragon hissed in response. Eragon's jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I'll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.'

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh's swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. "How are we getting out?" The younger Rider asked. "We can't go out and we can't go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can't carry four people."

"Theta Rescue." Arya grabbed Eragon's backpack before he could pick it up. "Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.'" She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

"Only if you're up for it." Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. "It's quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won't help."

"No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets." Her head cocked to the side. "They're sweeping the floor below us."

"Theta it is." Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. "Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh."

"Wait, what's happening?" Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. "What are you doing?"

Arya flashed him a grin that didn't reach her now flinty eyes. "Don't worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don't wiggle."

"Wigg–" Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman's carry. He only had time to spit out a quick "Oh Sweet Sara–" before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?' She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.' Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I'm going to hear about this later, aren't I?'

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You're just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.' With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.'

'Yes ma'am.' Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse's hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance story #arya #brom #murtagh #saphira #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #old mic story #tbh this was and still is one of my favorites #i'd love to find a way to rewrite it while keeping the original spirit intact

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creativerogues · 4 years

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A Great Big Guide to Minis, Grids and Combat (WARNING: REALLY FREAKIN’ LONG!)

Part 1: Minis

Finding the right Miniature for what you want can be a monumental task, and because there's so many types of Mini out there, I'm breaking this section down in the hopes that it'll help...

Metal Minis

I'm just gonna say it right now, Metal Minis are hard to find. Wizards of the Coast don't do them any more: They're chunky and heavy, but also extremely durable.

If you're looking for Metal Minis in your area, you can find a lot of Metal Minis at old Wargaming Stores and Hobby Shops, and often at a pretty great price because they're so old and badly painted because they're from the 80's.

I know people that have bought Solid Lead Minis from Wargames from the 60's and they look pretty great even today (I mean the paint is a little faded and chipped, but still...), which is a testament to just how durable these things are...

Metal Minis are great if you want Minis that are durable and will last for your whole campaign and beyond, and you can easily order and buy Metal Minis online from companies like Reaper Miniatures and their "Metal Fantasy" Collection, and with Services like HeroForge Minis, you can even make your own Metal Minis, albeit a little bit more expensive than your average Mini.

Plastic Minis

Plastic Minis are pretty much the standard for Minis. You can find both painted and unpainted Plastic Minis in almost every D&D Store and you can often buy them in bulk online or buy individual minis in store for great prices.

Wizards of the Coast (The People that make D&D) have their own lines of both Painted and Unpainted Plastic Miniatures available online, and you can often find individual Plastic Miniatures available in your Local D&D Store, online through things like Amazon, eBay or Miniature Market, or just buy them in bulk through places like the Wizards of the Coast Products Page.

And while these Plastic Miniatures are cheaper than the Metal Minis, they sacrifice durability for cost, and these Minis can often break at the worst of times...

But, as the standard for most D&D games, and available almost anywhere, Plastic Miniatures are your best bet for finding 3D Minis to use in your Game.

Paper Minis

Paper Minis are two-sided Minis that go on little stands, and the art for them is absolutely beautiful...

Most of these are extremely cheap, and some even give you the chance to use your own Printer to create dozens of amazing looking D&D Minis.

Most Paper Minis come as Downloadable Content that lets you print everything at home, while some come on Cardstock that you can pop out and place in their stands.

Paper Minis are absolutely perfect for play, and even when bulk-buying the Paper Minis printed on Cardstock, you can get literally hundreds of Paper Minis for almost no significant cost.

And while yeah, they're not exactly "durable", they're great for saving money, and they're still beautiful to look at.

Pre-Painted Minis

Pre-Painted Minis are almost as standard as Plastic Minis, and they often go hand-in-hand.

Wizards of the Coast Minis almost always have some variety of Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures, while their Nolzur's Marvellous Miniatures Line of Unpainted Plastic Miniatures are there for those that want to paint their own.

There are well over 2,000+ Individual Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures out there that are available to purchase from pretty much anywhere, and while Pre-Painted Metal Minis are rare, and the paint jobs are often kinda old, they are available...

But I will give a fair warning that Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures can come with faults: Some break in transit, some have bent swords and spears, some are painted so strangely that characters and monsters can have crazy eyes and look a little too silly on close inspection…

But Pre-Painted Plastic Minis are still great to use, pretty cheap to buy, and it's only in rare cases that you'll be unsatisfied with what you get...

Painting Your Own Minis...

Like I've said, the Nolzur's Marvellous Miniatures Line of Unpainted Plastic Miniatures are there for the Dungeon Masters that want to paint their own minis.

This line of Minis is Plastic, and come already covered in a Grey Primer and are pretty much ready to paint right out of the box.

However, while the Unpainted Plastic Minis cost just a tad less than the Pre-Painted Plastic Minis, getting into painting Minis can be an expensive hobby, as you often end up buying dozens of different paints, brushes, and more just to paint a single mini.

But don't be dissuaded from doing it, you can find Paints for Minis on the Wizards of the Coast Products Page and Online where available...

Commissions: There are People out there that you can Commission to paint your Minis for you, and most services are pretty cheap, so ask your Local D&D Store if they can paint your Minis for you, or if they hold classes in painting Minis...

Learning to Paint: Painting Minis takes time and patience, but can be very rewarding in the end, and starting out can be just as easy as looking up a tutorial video or signing up for mini painting classes at your Local D&D Store.

And while your first few self-painted Minis might not look great, overtime you'll become a great painter, and can save a bit of cash over time by buying Unpainted Plastic Minis and painting then yourself, so double win!

Where To Find Good Minis...

There are a LOT of places to find Miniatures, from Metal to Plastic to Paper to Painted to Unpainted, so I'll break it down for you.

Metal Minis: Metal Minis are hard to come by, but can be found online being sold as Individual Minis.

Most old Metal Minis come Pre-Painted but might need a new lick of paint, while some are entirely unpainted.

You can find most Metal Minis at your Local D&D Store, as well as online at the usual places of eBay and Amazon.

If you're looking for Custom Metal Minis, I'd suggest taking a look at HeroForge Minis, and while they might be a little expensive to some people, I think having a custom mini that's pretty darn durable is worth the price.

Plastic Minis: You can find Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures in almost every D&D Store and pretty much anywhere online. You can buy in bulk and get full sets of minis, or buy them individually (and normally for a cheaper price) at your Local D&D Store.

I'd recommend places like Miniature Market and Amazon when looking for Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures, and for Unpainted Plastic Minis, not only can you find those Online and in your friendly neighbourhood D&D Store, but there are plenty of great companies out there that produce some absolutely stunning custom minis for you to paint.

Painted & Unpainted Minis: You can find the Nolzur's Marvellous Miniatures Line of Unpainted Plastic Miniatures both online and in-store, as well as the Icons of the Realms Line of Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures for those people that want them.

There are also companies out there that do Custom Unpainted Plastic Minis, like Reaper Miniatures or Gale Force 9, and I'll be sure to leave a Comment with as many Links as I can find...

Paper Miniatures: My personal favourite place for Paper Minis is Printable Heroes. They have a whole selection of Free Downloadable Content that you can print off at home.

But, if you're looking for Paper Minis that aren't just D&D, Paizo makes a line of Cardboard Cutout Miniatures called Pathfinder Pawns.

Cheap Alternatives to Minis...

If you unfortunately can’t afford to spend money on Minis, there are plenty of really fun and really cheap alternatives to Minis.

Tokens from other Tabletop and Board Games, Lego Pieces, even a bunch of colourful M&Ms can still be used to show where your heroes and monsters stand…

Part 2: Terrain

I'm going to break this Section down just like the Minis Section, because there's just as many options for creating Dungeons and Maps as there are for Miniatures and Monsters.

Markers, Maps & Gaming Paper

You can buy Markers pretty cheap from pretty much anywhere, and basic blank Maps that you can draw on and erase with relative ease.

And some advice: Check the Markers you're using on your dry-erase or wet-erase maps, because you don't want to draw in permanent marker by accident and suddenly have that one "Permanent Dungeon Room"...

You can find entire rolls of Blank Maps that you can draw on from places like GamingPaper.com and Chessex.com, as well as Online from Amazon (because Amazon is our overlord, provider of all!), and these Maps come with Hexagonal Grids and Square Grids that suit whatever kind of game you want to play.

Flexible Battle Mats

From my own experience, this has been the most common type of terrain I use: They're flat maps, sometimes a variant of vinyl, sometimes just straight up fancy cloth, but they're the most available thing I can find, and have always been available to me through my Local D&D Store as well as Online in the usual places.

I call these "Flexible" because you can fold them and roll them and they won't warp or bend, and none of the Markers I use smudge or stain these maps in anyway compared to the cheaper options that might not last as long.

These maps are often just a single depiction of a generic area: A map of the woods, some mountains, the dock of a port city...

And some can get pretty weird if you look in the right places. I found a Map for a Githyanki Warship floating over an Ocean, and I've used that specific map about 4 times already!

You can find these types of Maps in your Local D&D Store for pretty cheap prices, and since most of them are maps of forests or mountains or underground caverns, they're gonna see a lot of use…

Dungeon Tiles

A lot of Companies produce modular dungeon tiles that are essentially dry-erase boards that clip together, and I personally think these are the coolest!

You can draw a dungeon room on each tile, and slowly piece them together as the Players explore the Dungeon, and really evoke a sense of exploration and "Fog of War".

You can buy these Dungeon Tiles Online, Wizards of the Coast even produces a line of Generic Dungeon Tiles, but I'd recommend Tac-Tiles with their dry-erase Dungeon Tiles, and again, check that the Markers you want to use don't stain or smudge when drawing lines…

3D Terrain

3D Terrain is great for keeping the sense of immersion during combat, and many times has the word of DwarvenForge been spoken to me as something from the sacred texts.

You can buy modular 3D Terrain Tiles from DwarvenForge, yes, but don't forget that there are plenty of other companies that produce 3D Terrain that's just as good.

You can buy Cut-and-Assemble Papercraft Terrain, buy Terrain that's been sculpted using moulds, resin and plaster, you can buy Miniatures from Wizards of the Coast themselves that are pieces of Terrain like Wagons, Carts, Stalactites and Stalagmites, and all of these are relatively cheap compared to buying hundreds of pieces of DwarvenForge.

But trust me when I say DwarvenForge is BADASS, their stuff is practically indestructible, and it lights up, and it even has a square grid on it too!

You can find all sorts of all kinds of 3D Terrain to enhance your experience of D&D, and you can typically find it in the usual places, but I'll put a whole bunch of links in this Post to help guide those that are looking...

Cheap Alternatives: Wrapping Paper

The other side of Wrapping Paper often has a square grid on it that's normally used for measuring and cutting paper, but I've seen and even used the other side of Wrapping Paper as a cheap and disposable alternative to a battle map, and it even comes with it's own square grid that you can draw on!

Yes, it does bleed and smear a lot when you use Markers, but it's so cheap and disposable that I can hardly complain…

And the best part, you can buy rolls and rolls of Wrapping Paper for ridiculously cheap prices and those rolls can last you a long, long time...

Part 3: Status Markers

What are Status Markers? Why do you need them?

Well, Status Markers are colourful little things you place on Minis to show that the Mini is under some sort of condition or spell effect. Status Markers are great for helping Players and the DM remember Spells and Conditions affecting multiple Creatures over multiple rounds of combat.

And these Status Markers can be anything from old plastic milk carton rings to professional 3D Printed Rings with every condition and spell effect accounted for.

If you're looking for professional status markers for your Minis, you can buy them by the butt-load from eBay, Amazon, and my personal favourite, Dakota Irish, who make some beautiful Status Markers designed to fit your D&D Minis, and they come in a variety of colors to suit your style…

Part 4: Initiative Trackers

An Initiative Tracker let's both the DM and the Players visually track the Initiatives of all the DM's Monsters and the Player's Characters.

And you can place all of them directly in front of you and the rest of the group, letting Players know "Hey, I'm up next!" or "Oh sh*t! It's almost that Bad Guy's turn!".

Many a time have I said "It's your go, what do you do?" and their response is "Oh sh*t! It's my go already?"

With this system, both myself and all my Players can see whose turn it is and who is next up...

My personal recommendations for Initiative Trackers are the 25 Piece Dungeon Master Set from Dakota Irish, and the Initiative Trackers by AxenShield that let you write your Party Member's Name or the Name of your Monster on one of the 8 flags, and flip the flag to the opposite side as turns are taken.

Are Initiative Trackers needed for Fun Combat? No.

Are they fancy as heck and help forgetful Players? Definitely.

Part 5: Combat Risers & Combat Pillars

These Combat Risers (also called "Combat Pillars" or “Combat Tiers”) give you the ability to show elevation and create a 3-Dimensional Space for your Miniature Combat.

It also gives you the chance to have combat at different heights with a series of combat stage platforms, and it's great for aerial combat. And trust me I say it makes underwater combats so much easier, just because it lets you accurately represent three dimensional combat on a map.

You can find multi-coloured and clear transparent Combat Risers on Amazon (like everything else here) and from some of the sites and places I've already mentioned, such as the Combat Risers Clear Mithril Set from AxenShield.

Part 6: Spell Effect Miniatures & Spell Effect Overlays

Spell Effect Miniatures

Spell Effect Miniatures are just like Monster and Hero Miniatures. These Spell Effect Miniatures are often Pre-Painted Plastic Miniatures that represent some of the bigger spells like Bigby's Hand or Spiritual Weapon.

Wizards of the Coast have their own line of Spell Effect Miniatures as part of their Icons of the Realms Line of Dungeons and Dragons Miniatures, with a Set for Spells like Wall of Fire and Wall of Ice, as well as a Box Set called "Arcane Fury and Divine Might", which contains several different Spell Effect Miniatures.

And there's more Spell Effect Miniatures to come! With Wizards of the Coast releasing a new Spell Effect Miniatures Box Set called "Mighty Conjurations", with Spell Effect Miniatures for Flaming Sphere, Forcecage, Guardian of Faith and more!

Also releasing in Early 2020 is Halaster's Tumultuous Templates, a set of Wizards of the Coast Branded Spell Templates that represent a bunch of different Spells, from Burning Hands to Moonbeam to everyone's favourite: Fireball.

You can find these Spell Effect Miniatures as Box Sets in your Local D&D Store, as well as online in the usual places like Amazon and eBay.

Spell Effect Templates & Spell Effect Overlays

Spell Effect Overlays let you as a Dungeon Master check the Range of a Spell, whether the Creature is in Line of Sight with the Caster, and help you as a DM (or a Player) remember Spells affecting an area or Spells affecting multiple Creatures over multiple rounds of combat.

My personal favourites are the Spell Effect Overlays from Arcknight, with Spell Effect Overlays for Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Web, Cone of Cold, Burning Hands, Fear, Dragon Breath, Faerie Fire, Moonbeam, Tidal Wave, Wall of Fire, Thunderwave and More, as well Buff Tokens, Inspiration Tokens, Monster Summoning tokens and so much more that I can't even fit here…

Every template comes on a die cut transparent plastic that's printed on both sides: With cool graphics on one side and notes on the spells effects on the other.

But if you're looking for a simpler template, AxenShield provide Spell Effect Templates and Overlays in various colours, with grids etched on to show the range and area of effect for each spell.

And, like always, you can always take a look on Amazon and eBay and everywhere else on the Internet for alternatives...

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imnotcreativeenoughtomakegoodurl · 4 years

Text

Dean X cop! Reader: Soulmate AU - Part 1

Genre: Dean X Reader, fluff (??), soulmate AU, slight angst/whump (if you squint)

Warnings: Description of injury/blood (let me know if I missed any) Summary:

Summary: This is based on the soulmate AU where any unnatural markings or blemishes (cuts, bruises, stains, marker, ect…) on your body will show up on your soulmate’s body. You got the short straw with whoever your soulmate was-This crazy bastard was always getting the holy hell beat out of him. Waking up in the dead of night feeling like a truck had just run you over went from terrifying to extremely annoying as time went on, but you always did your best to stay safe after one of those nights. However, being a homicide detective, “safe” wasn’t a word you got to use often.

“Back again?” The doctor asked, flipping through the clipboard Janice had left on the door.

“Don’t worry Dan, Janice has already patched me up and just wanted you to check me over before discharge in case this is anything like last time.” You explained, casually rolling up your shirt to show Dan your several bruised ribs and what once was a deep gash in your side.

You were in and out of the hospital so often that you were on a first-name basis with the majority of the staff and even friends with several. It was almost routine for you to walk- or even be carried in at least once a week with an assortment of bruises, open wounds and the occasional broken bone. They often joked that once you met your soulmate they would thank him or her for giving them such a dedicated customer, that is if your soulmate didn’t get themselves or you killed anytime soon. There have been several times when your soulmate must’ve made the choice to fight a bear or something because more than once, you’ve come in half dead.

"Looks all good to me, (Y/N)," Dan said and you rolled your shirt back down.

He signed your discharge form while you gingerly slipped on your coat and detective badge. Dan indiscreetly watched the detective badge glinting on your belt disapprovingly as he walked you to the front desk.

"Hey, you gave me the all-clear, doc. Besides, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” You said as you slid the paper across to the desk for Oliver to look over.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work? Right now, today? I mean, I discharged you but that doesn’t mean you should pass up some bed rest.” Dan advises.

“I really don’t think there’s a point, Doctor.” Oliver sighs, handing you back some papers.

“I’m sorry but, Oliver’s right, Dan.” You feign an over apologetic tone, slipping the papers into your bag while walking backwards “There’s been more of those creepy homicides and the PD needs all hands on deck. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh, that’s bull and we all know it.” Oliver calls out, making Dan snort.

“Hey, whose side are you on, Oliver?” You demand. But halfway out the door you turn back and joke “Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful. My soulmate really doesn’t need another injury!”

When you make it to the precinct no one needs to ask why you’re late. Your soulmate problems are a well-known routine here as well. You slide into your desk but before you can even begin to crack the surface of the mountain of files before you, your secondary rushes over, brimming with enthusiasm.

“So primary, what’s the plan for today? Check-in at the crime scene? Take a look at those corpses firsthand? Interview suspects? Well, I suppose we should properly look over the security footage we just got-“

You have to grab Natasha's arm to get her to stop bouncing around. “Let’s tackle one question at a time. I know this is your first homicide case as a detective and it’s starting to get pretty damn interesting, but we need to keep our heads clear.”

You look Natasha in the eye and half expect to see her pupils vibrating out of excitement. When they don’t and she just nods so hard that her blonde ponytail almost flops over her head, you sit her down and continue; “So, what do we know about the killer, Palmer?”

You’ve barely finished your question before Natasha starts chattering away “Again, you can just call me Tasha, I’m not big on formalities. It’s so weird y’know-“

“Tasha?”

“Right, the killer. They first struck a week ago and killed Patricia Davids and Brian Lee We know their MO is to kill a man and a woman within twenty-four hours by stabbing the victim’s brain through the eye sockets. The man and woman are usually involved romantically in some way, so we’re thinking that the motivation is love and the killer is someone with a vendetta against romance. Have you found out anything else on this lead?”

And once again, before you can respond Natasha gets sidetracked "This works so well! This whole call and response thing where we bounce clues around is never something I got to do as a cop! I-“

“Well I’m glad you enjoy this tactic, Tasha, but it’d kind of dead in the water if only you get to respond.” You explain, feeling slightly guilty when she sagged a little at getting shut down for the second time.

You leaned in conspiratorially and as expected, Tasha’s excitement came flooding back as she leaned in to listen like a schoolgirl being let in on a secret “I went and checked out each victim's itineraries leading up to the homicides and got a connection: The last time each couple was seen together was at Vicci’s Diner. I was thinkin-“

“What’s so special about Vicci’s Diner?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind you.

Slightly ticked at the fact that more reporters wanted info on the murders, you put on your best passive-aggressive smile and turned.

Two men you guessed to be in their early to mid-thirties, wearing layered overclothes and muted colours looked down at you. The taller one had a longer hair and slouched a little, almost like he didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his height. The shorter one had green eyes that were fixed on Natasha and you could’ve sensed from miles away that he was about to hit on her.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean.” The taller one introduces “We’d like to ask some questions about the Davids and Lee case.”

“I’m sorry, but as I’ve told the several other reporters; we’ve already had all the information we’re allowed to disclose published so you can go and check that source.” You said through a gritted smile before turning your back on them.

“Well, can’t you tell us again? We want to hear it straight from the source.” Dean says a little too automatically, giving away that they had coaxed info out of people one too many times.

“What was the crime scene like?” Sam asks, hot on Dean’s tail “Did it maybe smell odd? Did things not add up? Any weird patterns?”

Tasha opens her mouth eagerly to answer but you didn't trust Sam's bizarre questioning and their rundown attire showed that they weren’t reporting for anything too serious.

“Well it’s a murder scene so things did smell a bit fishy and if things added up we would’ve found the killer- I’m sorry but I didn’t catch what news publishers you were reporting for.” You pointed out, watching the men’s eyes meet and Dean crosses his arms across his chest to seem more authoritarian as he prepares to deliver what you know is going to be a lie.

“Who’s the primary?” Sam asks, now addressing the two of you and dodging the question.

“Oh, it's not me.” Tasha answers placing her hands proudly on your shoulders from behind “It’s detective (Y/N) (L/N).”

Dean looks almost surprised, as most people do when they find out that someone like you is a high-ranking detective. For some reason, it ticked you off more when Dean didn’t think that you were one to solve double homicides than it did anyone else.

Great now the lack of sleep from bleeding all night was making you seek approval from a total stranger.

“Damn okay, I was expecting your pretty lookn’ partner to bee the primary but I can see how you could’ve fought your way to the top.” Dean smoothly dishes out a compliment with a smirk and once again you can tell that this is something he did often.

Sam elbows Dean and resumes the one-sided questioning “Could you tell us something about Vicci’s Diner maybe? Has anything like this ever happened before in this city?” You sigh and stand up from your desk.

Placing a hand on each of their backs you turn the boys around and guide them to the exit “Vicci’s Diner is a really nice place downtown that had some great soup and occasionally carters to the homeless. Personally, I would recommend their grilled cheese and I would also like to work on the case so I actually have some new information to give you ‘reporters’.”

You gently nudge them out the precinct doors and scribble your address and number onto a scrap piece of paper “Now I don’t know who you guy actually work for but if you really are that desperate for a firsthand account swing by at night and you guys can help me finish my pie while we talk.”

The door closes in the Winchester’s face and you hurry back to your desk, massaging your temples.

Did I really just give two complete strangers my address? God, what is wrong with me today?

Outside the precinct, Dean memorizes (Y/N)’s address before pocketing it. “Quit pacing Sammy, we got an address, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, we know where there’s a connection, but the detective didn’t give us any clues on whether or not it’s supernatural.” Sam opens the Impala doors and awkwardly clambers in. “Maybe we would’ve if you didn’t scare (Y/N) off with your questions. You might as well have been screaming “hey do you think a ghost killed those lovebirds?’”

Dean starts the engine and the loud banging of a drum solo fills the car. Sam can barely hear Dean when he waves the address in his face and says triumphantly “And I wasn’t talking about the diner’s address; I just got the address of a cute cop who just invited me over for pie because I gave one compliment. What do you think I could get if I bought them a couple of drinks?"

"A restraining order," Sam mutters as the car takes off.

The break room in your precinct had been transformed in the last few hours into a mess of loose papers and gruesome pictures connected by thread beautiful mind style. The cuff of your shirt was indefinitely stained with dry erase marker from the frustrated wiping blank of the whiteboard every time a lead didn’t pan out.

You took a swig of room temperature coffee as you reread the ME’s report but the words seemed to have lost all meaning in the 2AM stupor you were currently swimming in. You absent-mindedly run your hands over the puckered line on your skin where your soulmate’s gash had been patched up in your stress and sigh deeply.

“What are you still doing here?” One of the night shift detectives asked, poking their head through the crack in the breakroom door “Go home, you look like a mess- and so does your workspace.”

“Thanks, Nosellla.” You snap, picking your way across the cluttered room to shut the door and other distractions out.

Nosella wasn’t wrong though; you had bitten your nailbeds into raw oblivion and had to band-aid a few fingers. Your hair stuck up at the front and became an impenetrable net at the back from all the times you had run fingers through it and you didn’t even need a mirror to know that you had some killer bags under your bloodshot eyes.

Between your soulmate’s antics and this impossible case, you would be lucky to have gotten twelve hours of sleep in the last week. Maybe it was the stress or sleep deprivation or just delusions in general but you rolled up your sleeve and stood by the sink with a washable marker.

When you were a kid, you and your soulmate would hold little conversations by writing messages on your arm for the other to see and washing it off to leave room for a response.

You wouldn’t be surprised if you were called in to do a psych eval tomorrow for leaning over a running sink with a red marked poised against your forearm. The mess around you must not help your case either but what the hell-you were desperate. The paranoia sent you down a spiral of wondering if your soulmate- one of the only sure things in your life right now- was out there and alive. He had stopped responding when the beatings started getting really bad and you hadn’t “talked” in decades.

“Hey guess who?” you scribbled and instantly dunked your arm under the water like one would toss away a phone after sending a risqué text.

“I was starting to think that you’d disappeared until it felt like someone was trying to rip off my fingernails today. Are you okay?”

Your heart soared and you let out a breath you’ve been holding since the marker first touched your skin.

You washed off his black ink and wrote in place: “I’m fine, just stressed. Since I have you “talking” I have a question for you actually.”

"Shoot," He wrote

“I know you wouldn’t tell me when we were kids because you said it was dangerous but we’ve both gotta be adults now, right? I mean you wouldn’t even want to get close to me as we grew up because apparently any connection at all could be dangerous. I kinda want to know who on earth my soulmate is yknow. All I know is that you’re an adult male who has a habit of getting the shit beat out of them. I want to meet you one day, hopefully soon?”

It takes him much longer to respond this time and the letters appear haltingly, without the usual ‘no looking back’ penmanship that you were used to. “Listen meeting my soulmate sounds great but look at the hell I’m putting you through without even meeting you. I could never put you through what I have to do every day and people who I talk to have a habit of getting hurt.”

Your heart clenches for him but you must resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I already go through everything you go through if that hasn’t toughened me up then my job certainly has. If what you go through is hell than what kind of soulmate am I to just stand here and live in blissful ignorance?”

You can feel that he’s pressing the pen harder into his skin as he rushes to finish his statement in his annoyance “It’s complicated, what do you think this is a fairy tale? You can’t just rush into my life like a knight in shining armour and expect to come out in one piece.”

Your phone pings and you check it one-handed as you run your other arm under the tap. The stakeout crew that you had stationed by Vicci’s with Tasha had just texted you about a suspicious car that had parked across the street behind the diner but stayed stationary with the engine idling and no one entering or exiting.

“Haha, yes!!” You exclaim out loud at the news of a concrete lead and possible suspects.

You quickly text the team to take photo evidence but not to engage until you got there and end the unfulfilling conversation with your still nameless soulmate: “I’m still here aren’t I? Trust me when I say I do have field experience with getting near-fatal injuries. Speaking of my job, duty calls but please consider trusting me. We are soulmates and I’d hate for you to actually die one day without me even knowing your name.”

“Who said anything about me dying?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

Under a shadowed overpass you tap on the window of the stakeout car and it whirs down to reveal Tasha’s always grinning face. “You took long enough, (Y/N).” She whispers.

“Sorry.” You apologize glancing around for eavesdroppers before continuing: “ So what’s the deal?”

“Well, they know what they’re doing.” Tasha says with an edge to her whispers “They parked somewhere dark so we couldn’t really get their profiles or see what kind of guns they pulled out of their trunk. But it looked like this wasn’t their first time going into a dinner heavily armed.”

“Good to know.” You say, eyeing the suddenly sinister diner “Tasha vest on and with me. We’ll go in and split up and you two be ready to call for backup on my call.” You order the team in the car.

You slip on the familiar weight of your Kevlar vest and draw your firearm. Tasha grins at you and gives you a manicured thumbs up and you smile tensely and nod.

This could be the day you make the biggest break of your career, but despite this, you think back to your soulmate. You think of the hell he refuses to put you through, wherever he is right now, while you’re hunting down a pair of potential serial killers, and you change your mind. This could be the day you prove to your soulmate that you have the balls to walk through hell with him.

It’s now or never; You quietly push aside the yellow tape barring off the retro diner door and step into the dark reception area. You almost gasp when your eyes adjust to the dark and see an enormous silhouette no more than a few feet from the nearest booth. You barely have time to load your gun when:

“SAM DOWN!”

A click, a flash and a bang and you’re blown off your feet as the shot hits you square in the chest.

#supernatural #fanfiction #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #snp fanfic #supernatrual fanfic #x reader fanfic #dean x reader #dean x reader soulmate AU #soulmate AU #dean x cop! reader #angst #fluff #whump #dean x reader fluff #supernatrual series #dean x gender neutral reader

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tracingdreams · 4 years

Text

Daiya no Ace: The Dramas #8 Kanemaru, Kane Nai!

An explanation… To keep my brain from rusting I started a project to translate the drama tracks that came with the character song CDs and other stuff relating to Daiya no Ace (because I love them and they’re all hilarious). My disclaimer - I am not a native speaker of Japanese, but I will do my best!

Character Song CD 12 Kanemaru Shinji Drama 01 featuring Kanemaru, Toujou, Sawamura.

Scene: It’s the end of school and Kanemaru is trying to hurry Sawamura up to get to practice in good time. But Sawamura has to go get a new notebook for English, so he can do his English translation homework. Kanemaru, being a long-suffering victim of good friend to Sawamura’s education-related problems, decides to go with him. And, ultimately, regrets it.

Translator’s Note: Japanese stationery stores/departments are, actually, quite hypnotising with their insane range of stuff. I may have brought an unnecessary amount of pens and pencils back with me. I feel Sawamura on this one. Don’t judge.

(The school chime sounds)

Kanemaru: Yosh, today’s classes are over. Oi, Sawamura, let’s go to afternoon practice!

Sawamura: Ah, wait a minute, Kanemaru!

Kanemaru: What’s up? We first years have to get to practice early and set up before the senpai arrive, remember?

Sawamura: Just a short few moments will do. Let me go to the school store first, huh?

Kanemaru: The school store?

Sawamura: I have something I desperately need to buy! My English class notebook has reached the last page!

Kanemaru: Ah, now you mention it, we have translation homework for English, don’t we?

Sawamura: We have class again tomorrow, too, so I need to do it tonight.

Kanemaru: I guess in that case you really do need to buy a notebook now, huh? Ok, let’s go quickly.

Sawamura: Yeah!

(they head to the school store, which obviously sells stationery but also sells lunch food and other things.)

Sawamura: Hey, look, Kanemaru! There’s still bread left! (Translator’s note – he literally said bread, but in this context, he means sandwiches or baguette type things, and probably not cake type things).

Kanemaru: Ah, so there is. That’s unusual.

Sawamura: Right, Kanemaru! Let’s fill our stomachs before afternoon training!

Kanemaru: Oi oi, If we eat now we won’t be able to move properly during practice…

Sawamura: (not listening): Excuse me! I’d like a yakisoba bread and a croquet sandwich! And that big long thing with a sausage stuck in it!

Kanemaru: That’s a hot dog…and hey, listen to what I’m saying, will you?

Sawamura: You can’t go to war on an empty stomach!

Kanemaru: Well, if it has a bad effect on you, don’t blame me, okay?

(At that point, Toujou appears).

Toujou: What are you guys doing? Shinji? Sawamura?

Sawamura: Toujou!

Kanemaru: Sawamura said he needed to buy a notebook, so I came along with him.

Sawamura: Did you have something to buy too, Toujou?

Toujou: Yeah, I thought I’d buy a new ball pen. Look, this one. It’s really easy to write with. Here, give it a try.

Sawamura: Let’s see…(he tries it out). Ah, it really is! It flows really nicely!

Kanemaru: It looks really nice to write with.

Sawamura: And you have blue and green [ink]!

Kanemaru: Well, there are folk who do that – write notes in multiple different colours.

Toujou: There are. Well, they are mostly the kids with good grades, mind you…

Sawamura: WHAT!!! To think there existed something in this place to make studying easier!? I’ll buy one of these four colour ink ball pens!

Toujou: Hey, Sawamura, if you want lots of colours, there are also these ones…

Sawamura: (distracted by all the colours on what is clearly one of those really big multicolour biro pens): Hrm? One, two, three, four, five, roku….there are TEN colours here! AMAZING!

Kanemaru: Would you really use that, though?

Sawamura: If I only had this pen, I would definitely raise my class rank next time! Hahahaha!

Toujou: He’s…really not listening, is he?

Kanemaru: Unsurprisingly. Oi, more importantly, Sawamura! What about your notebook?

Sawamura: Huh? (He’s forgotten).

Kanemaru: Notebook! Isn’t that what you came here to buy?

Sawamura: Ah! I forgot about that!

Toujou: Even if you buy a pen, you need something to write notes in, after all.

Sawamura: Let’s see…there’s the normal type and the type with ring binding. There’s a lot of variety. Which should I get?

Kanemaru: Just get the same as you usually do? Look, this one here. (He hands over a book).

Sawamura: Ah! This one…

Toujou: You know pretty well what kind he uses, huh, Shinji?

Kanemaru: (grudgingly) Well, I help him with his studying enough. I kind of picked up that information even though I don’t really need it.

Sawamura: But, however! I feel like maybe I want to try using a different kind of notebook!

Toujou: In that case, what about this ring-bound one?

Sawamura: I could completely change things up and go with that kind of loose leaf system!

Kanemaru (getting impatient): We’re running out of time, so just buy both of them, huh? You’re always going to need another notebook at some point – it doesn’t matter how many you have, right?

Sawamura: Kanemaaaru, you are correct! I’ll go buy them!

(He scoots off).

Kanemaru: (Sighs) Finally, huh.

Toujou: You don’t need anything, Shinji?

Kanemaru: Ah, that reminds me, I think I’m about to run out of pencil lead.

Toujou: Since you’re here, you might as well buy some.

Kanemaru: Yeah, I’ll do that.

Sawamura (From across the school store) Kanemaru! Toujou! Hurry, come quickly!

Kanemaru: Huh?

Toujou: What’s up, Sawamura?

(They head over to join him. He’s got distracted again).

Sawamura: Look at this ball pen! You can write a line like this and then…look, look, it vanishes! It’s like a writing revolution!

Kanemaru: Yeah, it’s an erasable ink pen.

Toujou: A lot of people use them, I think.

Sawamura: *Gasp* To think that such a thing would already be spread around! I must buy one!......Huh? And what’s this? Bookmarks? Woow! Page markers to keep track of where you are in a book when you turn the page! (Translator note: I think these may be of either the clip or stick in page marker variety).

Kanemaru: Ah, useful stuff, that. Even if you forget to put in a proper bookmark, you’re still covered.

Toujou: Sawamura, you often read books, so it’s a good chance to get some?

Sawamura: I’ll buy them! And then…

Kanemaru: (lost patience now): Oh, just go buy them already. We have no time for this!

Sawamura: Right! (to the checkout person) I’d like these please! (off he goes to pay. Again).

Kanemaru: At last, he’s finally gone to pay. Are we going to make it on time?

Toujou: We’re just about okay, but it’s cutting it a bit fine.

Kanemaru: So long as there are no more problems…

Sawamura (yelling from across the store): Kanemaaaru!

Kanemaru: NOW WHAT?!

Sawamura: I HAVE NO MONEY!

Kanemaru: WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!

Sawamura: When I looked I only had loose change in my pocket…

Toujou: Which means, Sawamura…you didn’t bring any money down with you?

Kanemaru: If you don’t have any with you, then I guess there’s no other option. I’ll pay for it for now.

Sawamura: *sparkly eyes* Oooh! Kanemaru!

Kanemaru: Make sure you pay me back!

Sawamura: Of course I will! (There is the sound of the cash register, then) Yosh, I’ve bought them!

Toujou: Come on, Shinji, you should buy your stuff too.

Kanemaru: Ah, yeah, that’s true. I…huh?

Toujou: What’s up?

Kanemaru: I don’t have enough.

Toujou: Eeeh?

Kanemaru: I don’t have enough money!

Sawamura: (laughing): What, Kanemaru, don’t tell me you didn’t bring enough down with you either?

Kanemaru: SHUT UP!!! I don’t have any because I PAID YOUR SHARE AS WELL already! What the hell are you going to use all of that stationery for anyway? And you bought a bunch of bread as well!

Toujou: Hey, Shinji, it’s okay. I’ll settle the cost for you.

Kanemaru: Thanks, Toujou.

Sawamura: Toujou is a great guy! Hey, hey, let’s hurry, Kanemaru! If we first years are late to afternoon practice, we’ll get it in the neck!

Kanemaru: SHUT UP BAKAMURA! Are you happy now, idiot?

Sawamura: Don’t call me an idiot!

Kanemaru, SHUT UP IDIOT.

Toujou: Hey, both of you! If we don’t hurry we really won’t make it!

Kanemaru: Ah, crap, let’s run!

Sawamura: If we’re running, I won’t be beaten! (and he’s off.)

Kanemaru: Wait, you jerk! You can’t cause all that trouble and then run away from me like that! Ah, dammit, wait for me, BAKAMURAAAA!

#Daiya no Ace #Ace of Diamond #Character Song CD #Drama CD #Kanemaru Shinji #Toujou Hideaki #Sawamura Eijun #Translation #Drama Translation #Stationery in Japan is cool #Bakamura strikes again

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