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ryosmne · 3 years

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Special piece.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

I just had random thoughts about Sukuna, I mean the usual so here's this hope you enjoy reading. Also this is based on my Tattoo artist! Sukuna series here's the masterlist for that.

Warnings: Language, usage of the word babe that's all.

Consultations were always Sukuna's least favourite part of his job. Not only because some people took long to voice their ideas, but because some are way too indecisive, they either want too many things packed in a tattoo or they hover all over the place trying to chose from roses to skulls. Boring.

The girl that walked in five minutes ago was no different and even though she hadn't even been in his shop for that long she was already getting on his nerves not being able to choose a design for him to draw so he could get this over with, and much to Sukuna's dismay she also had a friend with her that stirred her away every time she came close to making a final decision.

Nanami had told him that she already had a very specific design in mind otherwise Sukuna wouldn't be wasting his time and maybe the fact that he woke up next to y/n again helped him enough not to give the girls his usual pissy attitude.

"How about a micro tattoo? It would look so good on you." The girls friend chirped up making Sukuna's eye twitch.

"I won't do that, pick something else, if you're having trouble I can just give you a flash book with my work and we can tweak something to make it different." Sukuna offered, his tone was very much bored and indifferent, all he wanted was for this to be over with.

"Yeah that would be nice." The girl infront of him said. She was around his age, early to mid twenties and by the looks of it she had lots of work done, her right arm was covered and she wanted to start her left too.

Sukuna momentarily left his booth to fetch the flash book from the reception and he was already planning to charge the girl, whose name he didn't really care to remember, extra just for annoying him.

Walking back to his booth, he found both girls staring at the pictures he had framed on his wall, specifically y/n's original sketch of the shrine she wanted. Sukuna still called her lines crooked all the time, especially when y/n and him eat lunch in his booth. The picture next to it was one of y/n's arm, by now not only the shrine and the fox covered it but lots more of his designs.

Y/n had always told him with a chuckle that having a picture of her arm was creepy, but Sukuna always justified it saying that it inspires him and he has a picture of them together on his desk cause he knows she's a bit on the shier side. Not to mention Gojo would give them hell had he seen that picture of them together hanging on the wall and both y/n and Sukuna didn't want to deal with him.

"That one, I want that one."

The girl confidently spoke and Sukuna's gears had already been grinding for a while.

"Not that one, here pick something else." He simply said, with a slightly more intimidating tone as he handed her the flash book.

"But I want that one, why can't I have it?"

Whining was his the worst thing to Sukuna pair it with an entitled costumer and you can see smoke coming out his ears.

"That was a piece for someone special, you can't have it, either pick something else or leave."

Y/n once again came through Domains front door, Nanami greeted her at the reception and as usual everyone was working since there was lots of buzzing in the shop.

"Hey Kento, I brought takeout for everyone, hope you guys like Thai food." She said with a smile, dropping the bags at the reception counter. "You shouldn't have y/n we could've ordered something in." Nanami was his usual self talking about paying her back and y/n only laughed.

"Oh come on, I wanted to, everyone's still working?"

"Yeah, everyone's tattooing, Sukuna's doing a consultation and it's not going that we-"

Before Nanami could finish his sentence some girls voice was heard saying

"Aren't you a tattoo artist? You're supposed to do what I ask you to."

And there was Sukuna, he had came out front having decided that even the extra charging he planned to do wouldn't help him deal with that headache of a client. His face said it all and y/n could tell he was done with whoever pressed him.

The two girls came to y/n's field of view and she was now wondering what they asked for that Sukuna was so pissed. She just gave him a smile telling him to hang in there in her own way and Sukuna's whole face lit up just by her presence.

"Just why won't you do it? That's the one I wanted." Ah, why must his moment be ruined that rudely.

"I already told you, now, out." His voice was as stern as ever, y/n didn't interfere, that was his business he can run it however he pleases.

The two girls let out an annoyed huff before one of them turned their attention to y/n

"Just go somewhere else, this guy won't do what you'd want anyway."

"Oh I'll do whatever she asks of me, now get the fuck out of here."

Finally some piece, just as the door closed, Nanami begun to laugh under his breath having heard all the commotion from before.

Sukuna took y/n under his arm giving her a quick kiss, his expression that previously looked like he would blow up any second, softened to a half smile his now lazy half lidded eyes that settled on y/n's face.

"How's your day dollface?"

"Pretty good, hopefully about to be better, how's yours?" That smile of hers never failed to make his insides melt away.

"Pretty shitty, untill you showed up."

Who knew that anyone could get Sukuna this warm and cuddly? Well if you asked his co workers they would've told you that there's no way in hell anyone can make Sukuna mellow with their presence, but y/n was probably the exception that justifies the rule.

"Babe, did you also get these red velvet cupcakes from the bakery downtown?"

Sukuna asked, eyes lit like a kid on Christmas.

"Have I ever forgotten? I got you the ones with the pink frosting you were eyeing too."

Y/n said her smile matching Sukuna's and her heart hummering like it always did when he smiled, that was the least she could do for all the perfect dates he's taken her and all the perfect food he's cooked for her not to mention the gorgeous work that he put on her body, his ink by now creeped up her shoulder.

"That's my girl!"

Sukuna said with a proud tone as his arm pulled her closer to his side.

"So, what did she ask for?"

Y/n pressed not having a clue what could've gotten him so riled up, but he just hummed and took another bite of his cupcake, like he always did after a meal.

"Was it watercolour?"

Sukuna shook his head no, making y/n more curious.

"Micro tattoo?"

Again same answer.

"Then how bad of an idea could it be?"

Y/n asked, her voice was playful as she genuinely wondered if someone asked for Jimmy neutron's head merged with a tiger again.

"She asked for your shrine, I'd never give someone your shitty lines." Sukuna answered half laughing, and y/n did too, that running joke always found its way back.

But y/n knew Sukuna considered all of the tattoos he'd given her one of a kind and an extension of herself, he wasn't about to hand what's hers to someone else no matter how much tweaking he did, these pieces were y/n's and y/n's only.

Bonus Domain shenanigans:

"Y/n brought food? I heard something about cupcakes too." Gojo spoke suspiciously looking at his co-workers. They all ate with y/n about an hour ago but he was too busy finishing up a piece of his, full colour new school takes time.

Sukuna warned them that if they told Gojo about the cupcakes, he would either fire them or tattoo them a stupid design he thought of. The second option sounded terrifying, so after exchanging a few looks Geto was the one to speak up.

"No man, she did bring Thai thought, maybe you misheared, here I left yours on Nanami's desk." The calmness in Geto's voice always helped him seem like he could never lie, making him the best to handle a very nosey Gojo.

All was good, Gojo didn't ask again and was stuffing his face with the food y/n brought, Sukuna should thank her for making his mouthy friend zip it for more than a minute.

That was untill..

"Y/N TOLD ME SHE BROUGHT RED VELVET CUPCAKES."

Yuuji bursting through the front door ruined everything.

"You liars"

Gojo said before racing to the fridge they kept sodas with Yuuji in toe.

"You lay a finger on MY cupcakes, I'll gut you both."

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk oneshot #au ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #sukuna #sukuna fluff #au sukuna #tattoo artist sukuna

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

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Cue and Call

Ch 1: Subtle as a Brick

Gavin hadn’t really thought about source checking the article when he saw the first one, or any of them really. He just skimmed over it while he was drinking his coffee in the morning. It made him think of Hank, he loved speculation pieces like this. It wasn’t that he necessarily believed them, he just enjoyed learning what people hoped would happen. He checked the time and then sent the article to Hank. He was on set right about now. He was six hours ahead so he probably would be able to look at it for a while. Gavin was fine with that. He just wanted Hank to know that he had been thought of. They weren’t a couple exactly. While they were interested in one another, Hank wanted to wait to try anything until both of their schedules calmed down. So for now it was text messages whenever one of them had the time, and if they were lucky maybe a phone call in the evening. Dodging the press was definitely the most exhausting part. They could only give so many evasive non-answers before the smartest of them began to suspect that something was up. Which would have been fine. Hank was great at being subtle; Gavin, on the other hand, was not. He felt like it was written all over his face whenever someone so much as mentioned Hank.

It wasn’t even that Gavin wanted people to know. They just didn’t want the press and thereby the rest of the world finding out until they were sure about whatever this was. There were some people on Gavin’s end that knew; his high school friends Chris and Tina; and Richard who had found out when Gavin had a little too much to drink and pilled his guts. They had all been sworn to secrecy of course. Hank got back to the states about three months after the first article had cropped up. They planned to meet for drinks that weekend before he and Hank were both whisked off to work on separate projects. Gavin’s was just a bit of voice work and then he would be off again. Hank hadn’t said what his next thing was. Gavin was looking forward to seeing him again. They didn’t get to see each other in person outside of work very often. On the Friday before they were going to meet up the plan changed. Hank decided he would rather join Gavin at his place than go out. Which was something Gavin could understand, being surrounded by people so soon after coming home could be exhausting. After being over seas with an entire filming crew Hank probably wanted something that was easy and quiet. There was also the added bonus of by staying in they wouldn’t run the risk of being seen. All Gavin had to do was decide if he wanted to cook or order takeout.

He decided to cook, it was something not many people knew he was good at. Spending Saturday morning grocery shopping made him regret that a little, but he could think of worse things he could be doing with his day. There was something about cooking for the people you cared about. Gavin was inclined to believe it was a love language of its own. Gavin had decided on lasagna. Both his mother and his grandmother taught him that is was a dish you made to welcome someone home. In the years since he had moved out he tweaked the family recipe for convenience sake in ways that would make his grandmother roll in her grave. Tonight though, he was using the one he had learned growing up. He had plenty of time today. Hank rang the door bell as Gavin was putting the lasagna in the oven. He set the timer and then answered the door despite the fact that his kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off and Gavin had been on of its unfortunate victims. Hank eyed him with an amused smile as he stepped inside. “You look like you’ve had an eventful day.” He said in way of a greeting.

“Yeah.” Gavin laughed, “As it turns out tomatoes will try and get revenge if you forget to put the lid on the food processor.” Hank stared at him as they made their way into the kitchen and Gavin wasn’t sure if his expression was one of amusement, disappointment, or both. “You forgot to put the lid on your food processor?” “Well yes and no.” He clarified as Hank sat at the bar, “I thought I could shave off a little time if I put the ingredients while the thing was running. So when I needed to put the garlic in I took the lid off and then didn’t put it back on.” Hank shook his head with a laugh, “I would have thought that you of all people would have invested in a food processor with an ingredient lid.” Gavin looked up from where he had been scrubbing at a particularly stubborn tomato stain, “With a what?” Hank took out his phone and after a few moments showed him a picture of a food processor that looked like it had a chimney shoot on the lid, “One of these.” “That’s the one I have, I just didn’t realize that was why the lid was so fucking weird.” He remarked.

That earned him another laugh from Hank, “Only you would buy something designed to make your life easier and still do things the hard way.” Gavin gestured like a showman to his warzone of a kitchen, “The one and only.” “So what made you decide to cook?” Hank asked, “The last time I got this sort of treatment from you was when you held me hostage after my car accident.” “You mean when I was making sure you were taking care of yourself.” He shot back, “You were gone for a long time, I figured you would want something home cooked.” He moved on from cleaning the counter to cleaning the stove, “How was filming?” That earned him a very dramatic groan, “If I never have to work with that director again it will be too soon. He refused to listen to any of us and fired anyone who questioned his decisions on the spot.” Gavin grimaced, “Yikes.” “The thing is probably going to flop anyway.” Hank continued, “By the end the crew was too small to make anything of quality. Which sucks because we started out with such a great team and a lot of potential, Then the director went and shot us all in the foot.” He gave an annoyed sigh, “It is what it is I suppose. Not like there is anything I can do about it now.”

“So what about the D:BH thing?” Gavin asked to change to a lighter subject, “How do you think that’s all going to pan out?” “Assuming that it’s real, I think it is going to do really well.” Hank replied, “They’ve got some pretty big promises to keep though.” “You’re excited then?” He asked as he finished cleaning the worst of the mess and came to sit behind Hank. “Oh fuck yeah.” Hank laughed, “I get to harass you and get paid for it.” Gavin rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.” They moved on to lighter topics after that. Gavin drank more than he probably should have should have at dinner, but it had been a long time since they had been able to do something like this. On top of that, Gavin had the tendency to lose track of himself with Hank. The conversations came easy and his carefully constructed walls crumbled like sand in the wind. Hank never seemed to mind, or if he had he hadn’t let on. Though come morning Gavin didn’t remember much after they had moved to the living room, so he couldn’t be sure if Hank had said anything or not. He woke up on his couch with good night and good morning texts from hank so he found it safe to assume he hadn’t done anything too out of line.

The next time he heard from Hank was when he called at ass-o-clock in the morning to tell him the show had been approved. Gavin had given a tired hum in response and had been back asleep before he could be given anymore details or properly hang up. Usually he was left in the dark because of his tendency to talk about the projects he was in online. Silas had been nice enough to add him to the group chat though, so that was fun. He was excited to see everyone again, but what he was looking forward to the most was getting to work along side Hank again. They would have to mind themselves around everyone else though. So this, whatever it was, would stay under wraps. It was going to be difficult, but Gavin was pretty sure he could handle it. He was alright with being subtle. “You’re staring.” Richard’s voice made him nearly jump out of his skin. “No I wasn’t.” He replied and made a point of looking anywhere but at Hank. “If you say so.” Then with that he was off to talk to Connor again. So maybe this was going to be more of a problem than he had thought. That was fine. He would figure something out, eventually.

#Cue and Call #CaC #Hankvin #dbh Hank #dbh Gavin #dbh fic #dbh

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geekygoddesss · 4 years

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The Boyfriend Tag [Calum Hood Edition]

Summary: an unfiltered interview featuring Calum Hood and his girlfriend.

Words: 4.7k

“Hello! I’m Calum Hood, from 5 seconds of summer” He greets to the camera.

“My name is (Y/n) and I am dating this guy. Today! we are going to be answering this tag thing” I answer in a more excited tone, as I point at the camera.

“The whole band has done it, it’s only fair I do it as well” He mentions “We’re currently at home, where we all should be” He says, looking at the surroundings of our sweet home “...so we have more than enough time to get to this”

I smile “And here it is”

_______

How did we first meet?

“Through friends” Calum explains shortly “it was nothing super special, sadly, she just happened to be friends with one of my friends and that’s how it happened” he shrugged.

There was really not much to tell, Our story simply happened in a very natural way.

“My friend invited me to LA and I met him in...If I’m not mistaken it was at a brunch party?” I explain.

“You’d be right” he nods “then a series of things happened and she ended up joining our team”

I smile to the camera “In case you didn’t know. I’m a music editor, I like producing and tweaking, so you could say we would see each other a lot” I shrug.

“And things happened, went on a couple of dates, did my magic…” he added, moved his fingers in front of the camera in a funky way and finished with a “...and here we are”.

Where was our first date?

“We went to a concert” I exclaimed, growing really excited at the memory “it was crazy, we literally started with a bang”

“Yep and it wasn’t planned at all” he laughs, rubbing his jaw with his hand as he spoke “I originally had the plan to go with Ashton to this Chainsmokers show, we wanted to take advantage of that to talk with Drew and Alex after, but Ashton got really sick and since I had the ticket and couldn’t just let it go to waste, I asked this beauty to go with me” he said, reaching over to squish my cheek.

I move away as an instinct, but I love it.

“It was awesome, those guys really put up a good show” I add, smiling as I spoke “I got really drunk that night”

Fun fact. I don’t know what came over to me the night of our first date, but for some reason, alcohol played a big part that night, it was embarrassing, but it was worth it. After all, we made a great memory out of it.

“Tell me about it” Calum said, rolling his eyes.

I blushed, but before he could say anything else, I swang over to him and covered his mouth “Shhh” I giggle, scotting over to his side “He kind of babysat me, sorry babe” I said, uncovering his mouth.

“Kind of?” he asked with a sarcastic tone “Geez, I can’t even answer to that. Next question, I don’t want to tell this story” he said, shaking his head.

I roll my eyes “Drama queen” I shrug “I got drunk and he had to take care of the rest, it was both fun and weird”.

“Next” he states, passing on to the next question.

What was your first impression of me?

I have to take a moment to answer this question, not because I don’t know what I like, but because I struggle remembering what exactly was that caught my attention. It only took me a few seconds to answer.

“My first impression of you was that you were really quite but still very present in the room” I speak first “it’s hard to explain, because we literally met in the middle of a conversation but basically” I try to explain, shifting a little in my place “I remember standing in one place and hearing stories from other people, I was completely not familiar with anything, I didn’t know any of them so everything they said was pretty much new, but you always had a fun insert to add, even though you barely spoken that was something that stood out for me a lot” I say, nodding towards him.

“Mine was more or less the same, actually” he says, acting surprised about my answer “because you’re always very quiet when being on a crowd and that stuff, you always stand back from having too much attention” he explain. “it’s funny because, the first day I met you I remember, I greeted you and all, we didn’t really talked to each other and I didn’t hear you talk either, however, when our food delivery came in the first thing I heard you say was ‘yo, I bet you can’t sniff of this paprika’” he says, a smile growing on his face, until full giggles starting coming out of his lips.

“Did you really had to say that on camera?” I sigh, acting annoyed, but I really wasn’t.

“It was hilarious” he says, still laughing.

I know this is a fact that kind of embarrass me, but watching laugh it off was completely priceless.

When did you meet my family?

“I met your family on the day you launched your third album” I start answering the question, as soon as he finishes reading. “it was such a big moment and you flew everyone in, it was the first time I ever got to interact with your mother and -well- everyone, as your girlfriend and not just a friend” I explain “also it was the first time I stayed over at your place for more than two nights”

“It was a extended pijama party” he mention, nodding at the camera with a serious look “no, uh, there’s a reason behind all that. When it came to this situations, I very much preferred for her to stay at mines while my family was in there than to have her alone at her apartment, so I took the chance” He shrugged, reaching over to pat my tight. “It was fun!”

“It was very fun” I nod agreeing “I love how your mom takes the lead in the kitchen and no matter what you say, she is the one in charge” I laugh, remembering all those discussion for who was the first cooking dinner at the house.

“Mom doesn’t love my cooking” Calum admits with a sigh.

I nod “I don’t know why, if I’m honest” I add“She makes some exceptional fish and chips though, it’s just...”

I have to close my eyes to add some drama into all these. I loved food, and that was definitely one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. I knew Cal’s mom loved to cook, and it was an honour for me to try her meals, they were heaven on earth.

“Yeah I know” he chuckles “How did I meet yours?” he asks to himself and sighs “I didn’t”

My jaw tenses a little, I don’t know how I didn’t see this coming but I didn’t care at all.

“I’m an orphan, don’t cry for me, I’m fine, I don’t need to talk about it” I state, moving over to his side and hugging him “you are my family”

He smiles softly at me. “Yes I am, baby” he says kissing my forehead. “Next”

Who said “I love you” first?

“Eh...I did” I admit, with a shy smile on my face “guilty” I add, raising my hand.

“She did” he seconds, pointing at him. “it was adorable”

That phrase made me cringe for some reason. Not that I denied it wasn’t adorable, it was just some awkward moment that I came out of me and I still feel unsure of. I am not often the one who speaks up, so doing this was pretty ballsy.

“Was it?” I ask, unsure “It was too soon, I dont know...”

“It was alright, really” he says, shaking his head and going over to rub on my arm a little “we were having one of our famous, drink and watch, where we watch movies and every time something specific happens, we drink a shot” he starts telling the story, also making the fun add on of our usual date nights.

“And I was like, woooh woooh” I say, trying to imitate that very moment. I lean over him, and leaning my head too close to his, I press my head on his cheek and whisper “I loaf you, Cayum” making it coming out as a loud muffled sound.

“God dammit” he giggles moving away just a little “I mean, it did sound like that, but it was cute and I said it back” he says, rounding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer.

“At first I felt weird because I thought I shouldn’t have said it right there at that moment, but if I’m honest” I add “I was fine”

“We were fine” he continues, leaning in to kiss my temple “more than fine”

What dressing do I always wear?

I look at him up and down. It’s kind of funny, because with this whole situation, we both happen to be in our pajamas, so our dressing code has been turned around for the moment. My vision of what he could be wearing on the daily has been distorted.

“Pfff” I sigh “I don’t know, I really don’t” I confess. “You are very weird with fashion, I must say, I don’t think you often wear the same thing” I say, looking over at him.

“I sure do, I can think of a couple things” He says, smiling at me with a teasing smile, silently encouraging me to think.

“Well, you do wear hoodies often, at home mostly” I say, being the first thing I can think of

“Like this one, actually, it’s like your morning hoodie” I giggle, reaching over to tug on the hood.

He was wearing that very soft white hoodie he would reach over to every morning, if there was a little bit of a breeze out there. She loved it, it was a nice piece of clothing to hug him in.

“There you go, see?” He chuckles, shaking his head “Mine is easy because every day of your life you wear socks that reach your ankles and beyond” He smiles, looking down at my feet and staring at my socks.

“Ding ding ding!” I celebrate, smiling at him “You are so right!” I laugh.

He nods, he knows he was right.

“Show the public, please” he suggests, giving me the honours.

“I have pineapples today” I say, lifting my foot as much as I can and holding it up to the camera. “Yesterday I had dogs and I have all kind of patterns, I love collecting socks” I smile, looking down at the pretty pattern and admiring it.

“It’s a fun thing to collect, I like it a lot actually” He admits, staring at it too “Do you have your 5SOS socks already?” he asks, as I lower my leg to its previous position.

I roll my eyes “Oh, shut it” I groan, he breaks to laugh and he knows why. “you didn’t let me design socks for your merch, now I don’t want anything” I say, scooting away from him

“Right” he laughs, shaking his head and laughing “Next question”.

Weird habit of each other?

“I know one of yours” he says before I can even answer. He turns to me, looking at me with a mysterious smile. “I’m going to leave it at your choice, should I tell or should I not?”

I look at him with the same look he gives to me, trying to see in him what he had in mind. I might have some weird habits, I was just hoping he wouldn’t pull out the worst.

“Shoot” I say, glaring at him.

“Everything you do, you find a way to relate it to a meme” he says, looking straight at me and laughing as he speaks “I don’t even know how you do it, you just do”

“Oh man! that’s not that bad, but I wasn’t expecting that at all” I laugh as well, finding it kind of funny that we went in with this one “I don’t think you have a bad habit, but, if I must say one, I would say your silence” I say slowly, not really sure if that even count. “you are one quite soul, Cal” I add, bumping our shoulders together

“Am I?” He says, raising an eyebrow up as he spoke.

I nod “It’s like, sometimes I ask you something and you just do this” I explain, resting my head over my chin and looking straight at him, saying nothing but still saying much. “I’m not a mind reader, pal” I mumble, still looking at him.

He leans over and touches my forehead with his, looking at me straight in the eyes and mumbling. “You should know what it means”

I roll my eyes. “Uh huh”

He would never admit his silence was weird, but that’s okay, it was something of him that I really liked.

How long have we been together?

“Almost two years” Calum says, his voice sounding sort of surprised as he spoke.

“It doesn’t feel like two years, how scary” I add, leaning my head on his shoulder “I feel like time really flies lately, these past two years between working with you, having all these changes and moving to this city, I felt like it’s only been a couple months” I mention, reflecting about all of the little things that have led us to this moment.

“That happens when you’re having fun baby”

I smile, bumping my shoulder to his “It’s been the best two years, I hope you know that”

What was our first road trip?

“Here’s the thing” he says, taking the lead “We often do small road trips to little parts of the city, so I would dare to say our first road trip together was... Mexico?” he says, looking at me in doubt.

“I think so, I’m not sure” I say, thinking about it as well. “but I think our most special trip was not even a road trip, it was a full on trip, remember?”

He frowns a little, turning to look at me looking for more clues. I didn’t gave more information away, if he knows, he knows.

“Which one?” He asks, still thinking about it.

“The first trip we did together, we were around 8 months, I would say” I say, still maintaining the mystery, until I decided to drop it. “We went to Australia, made a stop for three days and then New Zealand” I explain.

“Oh that’s right! yeah, you are right” he nods energetically at my answer. “We went visiting my family and exploring, it was a whole deal” he explain, now with a smile on his face.

“I think that even counts as a road trip, we used your uncle’s jeep, visited some awesome places” I say, smiling as well “I loved it, I always wanted to go to Auckland and having the chance of exploring the city was the best thing ever”

He nods, agreeing with me. That particular trip was the first trip we ever did together as a couple and it was worth every second.

“I had fun too, it was a very special time” He agrees. “Fun fact, a song came out of that trip, and you would never guess which one, but if you do, let me know and I might tell a story” He states, pointing at the camera, and looking at it with a completely serious look.

“Please do, guess” I chuckle at that statement “That story is going to fuck me up”

First thing you noticed about me?

“Now this is a question I like a lot” Calum states, sitting up straight and getting excited about his answer “Here’s the thing, the first time I met you was on this brunch thing and it was... a private event” he starts “it was interesting because in this event they had like a whole dancing thing, musicians, a DJ... the thing is, there was a particular moment of the event where they were playing jazz and the way she lost it while listening to that... that was priceless” he noticed, smiling at me “the way you lose yourself with music it’s something I won’t ever get tired of” he said in honest words.

That statement made my heart warm up. Those were one of the most adorable things he had ever said to me.

“Thank you” I said, with a hand on my chest. “The first thing I noticed about you is how good you are with words” I said, as part of my answer “I think some people, especially guys, sometimes come out as assholes when they want to cause a good impression, but surprisingly, he was the first guy who when he first came up to me, I felt comfortable” I shrug, looking at the camera and smiling softly.

There was really not much to say, I felt like my answer said a lot.

Calum smiled softly at me and reached my place, and while he caught me in his arms he mumbled “Come here”.

And then we fall onto the floor, as we washes me in kisses.

Tell us a fun fact about you

We both stare blankly at different points as we think of an answer. It should be easier than this, but for some reason, it is being more difficult than we thought to come up with a good answer to fill in this question. We could say so many things, but none of them would be the most appropriate one for this.

“Fun fact” I start, after our moment of silence “the first time we kissed, very first time, I was really drunk, but I would say, it wasn’t that noticeable or at least that’s what I thought”

I see Calum notices what I am saying right away, because once I start my story, his face goes from a frown to a surprised expression very quickly. Suddenly everything taking a bit of sense for him.

“I know where you’re going” he says, shaking his head.

“He asked me how it felt, like the kiss, how I felt about it” I continue “and I said ‘Ew’”

I wish I could help it, but everytime I tell a story like this, I can’t help but breaking to laugh, without having enough control over myself. I almost have to lay back, because I am laughing so much I can hardly sit still, but I don’t do that, I just hold on to my boyfriend and do my thing. I was such a fun story, the embarrassing part of it worn off completely by how funny it was.

“That was the most discouraging moment of my life” He explains, joining as well into my little laughing fit and shaking his head.

“I know, I’m sorry” I said, cleaning a small tear off my eye “I didn’t mean it! I was drunk, plus, I think I say ew and ouch out of its context more times that I could count” I mention.

“Now, that is very true” he says, laughing as well as he turns his look back at the camera and mumbles “Next question”

Tell us a secret

“No” Calum says.

So we move on to the next question.

What am I good at?

“She’s excellent at cooking the best things in the worst times” Calum explains as soon as he’s given the chance “and what I mean by this is that, most of the time when there’s a storm or, just like a month ago, we were confined and she would do deserts like everyday, It was so good I would forget for a second about what was surrounding me” He admitted, looking at me for a second before going back at the camera.

“I’m glad you like it” I smile, suddenly feeling very excited. “I do instagram lives every time I cook, It’s a lot of fun” I add.

He nods “You see me in the back, like, ‘what’s that white spongy thing?’” he mentions, making a weird voice just for laughs.

I giggle. “What’s that white dust on the table?” I follow, completely being aware of the double-sense.

“Is that mint? Or cilantro?” He adds.

“Oh geez” I laugh, at that last one. “People roast me in the comments all the time, because I make stuff like, burritos, or maybe chicken teriyaki, and then you come over and can’t eat anything” I roll my eyes, shaking my head at the camera.

He presses his lips together at my mention and nods.

“I don’t eat meat” he mentions, shrugging “but I don’t mind at all, I don’t care if you eat meat”

I nod “I always prepare like one ratio and leave some for if you wanna try, but…” I shrug “I wouldn’t tease you into it”

“I know babe” He says, going to reach my cheek and pinch it.

I move away from his touch as I say “I’m not even going to answer this so… next!”

Favorite feature about each other?

“His face is the stretchiest ever” I say with excitement in my voice.

Without a doubt, I get up and walk right behind him, because I just need to do something. It's a necessity, this is something I do on the daily, showing the public was something I wanted to do so badly.

“Look at this” I said, placing my hands on his cheeks and squishing them…stretching… squishing… stretching… squishing… I had so much fun.

“I have so much fun doing this, it’s like playdough in my hands” I say, caressing my boyfriends face.

“Okay, alright” he laughs, taking my hands away from his face. “My favourite thing is this” he says, still holding onto my hands and suddenly tugging on them hard.

Before I even noticed, he was grabbing both of my arms together, and with great skill, he pulled my whole body over his shoulders, and as he got up from his seat and walked back.

“What?!” I yelled loudly “Put me down!”

He does as I said, and as he walked to the back of the room, he let me down right beside him.

“She’s so tiny” he laughed, ruffling my hair playfully “I can carry her in my bag”

I rolled my eyes “No, I’m not” I whined “Stop”

He laughed again, and as he lifted his arm, and rested his elbow on my head. “See this (Y/n) to Calum ratio” he mocks “I’m half a person”

“Perfect size” I giggle, pushing him aside playfully. “Now that you’ve exposed my height, can we keep going please?” I say, almost begging.

If we kept going with this, I could easily turn from funny to not so funny anymore.

What do we argue about the most?

Once again, we stay quiet for a good second, but not because we don’t know, it’s because there was really not an specific answer we could give. I don’t we even knew what to say.

“I would say, the majority of times, we argue for the most dumb things you could imagine” I say, answering for the both of us “But about serious things, it’s something very rare” I shrug.

“I think our trending topic when discussing about something, it’s about me misspelling words when writing, and her losing it” he says, pointing at us and totally throwing me a look.

“Dude” I sigh “Because then people will read and take it the wrong way, not cool” I argue.

“It doesn’t matter, you just explain” he shrugs, completely not caring.

“You need to listen, that’s what you need to do” I roll my eyes “Read a book, punk” I let out.

His eyes widen at my answer. “Oh is that it?” He says looking at me directly.

I crack a smile, going to hug him, before he thought I was serious about this. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” I let him know.

I would never tell him something like that on purpose.

Nicknames for each other?

I sigh. “Sadly, I don’t have anything other than Cal, and all the regular sappy nicknames” I shrug “I know I’m terrible, sue me, I don’t care”

I speak honestly, all super creative nicknames were over thought and they could be weird sometimes. I was too classy to use anything overly new.

“That’s mean, because I do have a couple of names for you” he mentions “Sweetie pie, Baby… The others I can’t reveal” he says slowly, patting my thigh with his hand.

my nose scrunches “Why?” I ask.

“They’re very confidential, you should know that” he says, shaking his head.

I shrug. “If I’m honest, I don’t know” I giggle “But I’ll keep the secret if that’s what you want”

He smiles, and leaving kiss on my cheek, we move on to the next question.

Complete this sentence “You’re my……..”?

“Oh, this is the famous question” he says after reading the question out loud. A smile cracking on his face as he looked at me.

“Was there a famous question?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“All the guys were talking about this one, I’m sure you guys are enjoying this” he smiled at the camera and pointing at It. “Luke’s girl cried” he mentioned to me.

My eyes widen “Did she?” I say, my mouth forming a pout “Oh man, I haven’t seen that” I sigh “You first”

He nods, already knowing that he would be the one taking the lead first.

“You are my saviour” he says, going to grab my hand. “I know it might sound sappy and you hate it, but it’s the truth. Before you I was a lonely guy, even when I had friends, I still felt pretty lonely, and I really appreciate the fact that I found someone who I can talk to, share moments… someone who I can lean on, It’s something that really gets me thinking… If it wasn’t for you, I would be sad” he says, pressing his lips together as he looked at me.

“Really?” I asked in a whisper. He nods. “Cal…”

I wish I could keep it together, but hearing him say something like this… I’m front of a camera. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, we’ve been in these kinds of situations before, but right now, it felt different, and it felt special.

“No, baby, don’t” he chuckles when sees my eyes starting to Glow. “See?” He tells the camera with a smile.

“I don’t even know what to say…” I sigh, shaking my head “You’re my partner” I say smiling. “Probably sounds weird, because it’s obvious, but I mean it, you’re my best friend, I love spending time with you, I always look forward to be with you and have you by my side, I can tell you everything and I trust you more than anyone, I think being with you is without a doubt, the best decision I have ever taken in my life” I admit.

The grin on his face is a real one, and once I finish with my words, he gives a squeeze to my hands, and leaves a kiss in both of them.

“Come here, baby” he whispers, pulling my into his arms. “I love you, I love you, I love you” he says, kissing my cheek a lot.

“You’re squishing me” I laugh “I love you so much, a million times, more than you do”

And more than he could imagine…

_____

“So, this was our version of the girlfriend and boyfriend tag, I hope you enjoyed” I say first, as I smiled to the camera.

“We also hope this brought you enough entertainment during this time, we for sure had a good time doing it” He continues for me, waving at the camera. “Until the next time, and remember to stay safe, bye!”

With this, we both lift our hands, and wave energetically at the camera, we turn of the camera, and our version of this tag was completed.

It was a wrap!.

#calum hood imagines #calum hood blurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood x reader #luke hemmings imagines #michael clifford imagines #ashton irwin imagines #luke hemmings blurbs #ashton irwin blurbs #michael clifford blurbs #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years

Text

Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned?

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did.

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies).

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more.

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee.

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee.

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious!

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period.

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid.

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts.

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry.

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

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nilim · 4 years

Note

How would someone start to get into LARPing? I've always thought it sounded interesting but I have no idea where to start.

Oh boy, both a very easy and a very complicated question, because it depends on where you live and what you want. Also I haven’t been to that many different LARPs, so I will keep this mostly general…. This got long, so tips under the cut:

I’m very much a ‘jumped in the deep end without any preparation and see where I end up’ kinda person. I first started LARPing when I was 18. It was a ‘smaller’ LARP and it was at a place where my brother also LARPed at, although I didn’t see him for the entire weekend so I was pretty much alone. It was also an ‘adult’ LARP, so 16+ only. It was also the most I laughed in a 3-day stretch of time and absolutely delightful.

Basically, anyone can get into LARPing, you just have to keep an open mind when going into these things. Here’s a disclaimer though: I’m an easy person, I don’t have any disabilities, was in a mentally healthy state and I’m very used to camping outdoors, so I could put up with a lot - there was nothing that really ‘scared’ me about going except the whole ‘oh no strangers’ and mild social anxiety thing. Therefore, I didn’t do a lot of research beforehand about which LARP I wanted to attend - I attended my first LARP because it was relatively close to where my parents lived and I knew my brother LARPed there. That’s it.

However, that was more than 10 years ago and I’ve since grown a little more socially anxious and also a little more socially aware, so I would advise you to scout out different LARPs in your area. Almost all LARP events I know of have an online presence, through twitter or facebook groups, websites, etc. Just have a look what players are saying on those pages - you can usually judge the general feel of a LARP by the type of discussions players are having.

Also, ask questions if you’re unsure about something. In general I’ve found that LARPers are very eager to bring people into their hobby, and are very helpful and honest when answering questions. Check whether there is a code of conduct. Check whether there are confidential counselors present if anything were to happen. Check whether there are rules about harassment etc. If you’re unsure about something, ask the players on those social media pages what their experiences have been. Usually they will be honest, because they are ‘customers’ of the LARP much like you will be. Treat it like you’re shopping around for a hotel or holiday! Weigh the pros and cons.

As for the LARPs themselves, there are many different kinds of LARPs. I’ve only done high fantasy LARPs so far, and pretty large ones as well. Conquest of Mythodea is the largest LARP in the world, and it can be overwhelming for some people. But I also find them very calming in a way? When there’s so many people around there is almost no direct pressure on me to do anything. The story will continue regardless of what I do. With small LARPS or ‘parlor’ LARPs, which usually consist of a very limited group in a much smaller area, there can be more pressure on you to ‘perform’ your role. However, the upside of these LARPs is that you get some very deep RP and your character is important to the story. The game leaders will make sure to focus on you, and that can be very exciting!

I’ve also only attended LARPs where I would stay overnight. My first LARP lasted 3 days (Friday-Sunday), and Conquest of Mythodea lasts 5 (Wednesday -Sunday night). If you’re unsure about immediately going for such a commitment, maybe try out shorter or smaller LARPs first to see if you like it? Also, almost all LARPs have out-of-character areas, so if things get too overwhelming you can retreat from the game and just chill. Usually there are dedicated areas in the game, as well as your personal areas (e.g. people’s personal tents are completely off limits in Conquest, and nobody may enter them except for you. They may also not demand that you come out, etc).

Once you’ve settled on a LARP you want to attend, but don’t want to do it alone, you can ask around to see if there are any groups that might interest you in joining. Most LARPs have many different factions that you could join, and a lot of larger LARPs also have newbie groups that are specifically designed to teach you the ropes of the game. We joined the banner of explorers in Conquest of Mythodea and people were very friendly with explaining rules and such to us. However, they also usually let you go off and do your own thing if you’re not interested in participating or being forced into performing faction-related things. It was real nice. Again, ask around, see which groups of people can take you under their wing - usually there’s a lot of people willing to help you! A lot of this asking around you can do online before you even attend the LARP.

Once you’ve chosen a LARP and/or even a faction, make sure to read up on the rules of the LARP. Sometimes there’s a lot. Nobody is expecting you to know everything by heart, but it’s appreciated to take a little bit of effort so you know the general rules, especially around OOC vs IC gameplay, and the concept to roleplay with other people. LARPing is very much a “Yes and…” kind of experience, much like D&D. Prevent shutting down other people’s RP moments just because you want to do something cooler. (Note: Absolutely shut down somebody’s RP moment if it is making you uncomfortable. You are more important than RP!). Read up on combat rules, if you’re planning on taking part in combat. Make sure never to just hit people on the head, never carry sharp objects on you, make sure to know the rules about touching and grabbing other people, some LARPs don’t allow it.

Now you just need a character. Many LARPs have you build a character much in the same way like you would build a D&D character; you have a number of skill points that you can assign to different skills, such as thievery, magic or hitpoints. Read up on the rules and do whatever you think would be fun. In my general experience, these skill points are way less important than you think. 99% of LARP is just hanging around and talking to people, and you don’t need skill points for that. Additionally, realize that nobody actually knows your character (unless you’re playing a small parlor LARP), so you can usually tweak your character while you’re playing. So far I’ve always tried to play shady thief characters or dumb fighter characters, but I always instantly get sucked in when there’s puzzles and mysteries to solve, so I often let the ‘stoic person who doesn’t care about books’ thing go as soon as the game presents me with secret puzzles and coded texts. And that’s fine. Just make sure that once you’ve settled as a character after some time IC, and people know you as that character, you roleplay somewhat consistently or otherwise it gets confusing.

As for preparation for going to an actual LARP: There’s a lot of good resources out there on the internet! Just google things like ‘essential items for a LARP’ or ‘packing list LARP’, especially if you’re planning on camping. There’s also a huge amount of online stores that cater to LARP outfits, LARP weapons, and adjacent fantasy setting camping items. If you’re on a budget, don’t worry about it - nobody is going to be snobby about your outfit if you don’t look as cool as the next guy. However, please do try to keep it setting-compliant. Don’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt to a fantasy LARP. Even on a budget, it’s relatively easy to find some second-hand clothes at a thrift store or flea market (that’s where I get half my LARP clothes). Much like many hobbies, this one too requires a little bit of investment on your part before you go. Please don’t splurge on equipment before you’ve even attended a LARP though – maybe you won’t like it, and then you’ve invested all that effort already. Just take it easy and test out the waters a little bit.

And in-game? What if you’re unsure about how to get into the game? First you have to realize that everything is game. Even just sitting around the campfire enjoying some bard songs is game. There’s no right or wrong way to play in a LARP. But if you want to get into more plot-related stuff: Talk to others. Ask questions, about everything. During our 5 days at Mythodea this summer we did literally nothing but walk up to random places or events, tapping random people on the shoulder and going ‘what’s happening here?’. And people will do it a lot with you too, we’ve had so many people asking us who someone was, or what was going on, even though we didn’t know. Be not afraid to ask questions. It’s the quickest way to make new connections and get new friends and to get involved in the plot. Usually there’s NPCs around that you can ask for quests. Try to find out where stuff is happening. Or make your own quests, if you enjoy making that kind of character. It can be a lot of fun to send out other players to do things for you. Player characters come in all kinds of flavours. Maybe you just want a character that hangs out in the camp and cooks for people. That’s fine too! Like I said before, there’s no right or wrong to play.

If you want to fight undead and smash people with a foam sword, there’s LARPs for that. If you want to solve a murder mystery in a haunted mansion, there’s LARPs for that. If you want to be a wizard and attend magic school, there’s LARPs for that. If you want to sneak around and steal people’s valuables, there’s LARPs for that. It’s great! Just look around and see what kind of LARP and what kind of character suits your style. And it’s also fine to have your first LARP be a run-of-the-mill fantasy setting where you just walk around and observe other people and don’t get involved in the plot at all, which is mostly what I did during my first LARP.

Anyway, this got very long, sorry. But I hope these tips help you out!

#LARP #Anonymous

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meditatemoremedicateless · 5 years

Text

Gold Can Stay: The First Of Many (epilogue)

Art by @nerdylazorz

Summary: Max, Chloe, and Rachel reach the end of their journey in LA, but their lives together are just beginning.

In tribute to @raycats and @loveisstrange-vn.

Part 8 of 8 Read the full story on Ao3 or ff.net.

My first time seeing L.A. is . . . not impressive.

We arrive about half an hour before rush hour, but even so, there is traffic into and throughout the city. We drive by an untold number of small businesses and chains until the whole city sort of blurs together. It was like this for me in Seattle too, at first, but without a place to get settled, the feeling never quite fades. The plan is to sleep parked near the beach somewhere tonight, so the three of us agree to eat something and make our way to Santa Monica Pier.

The Pier has all sorts of stuff - a small amusement park and an arcade, for starters - but we don't have much time before closing. Around sunset, Rachel grabs my hand and waves at Chloe, dragging me along swiftly to the Ferris Wheel.

It is sunset by the time the ride starts, and Rachel wastes no time taking my hand and resting her head against my shoulder.

"Tired?"

She nods, nuzzling me. "All this driving's got me wiped. If there's one thing Arcadia Bay's got up on LA it's got to be the time spent cooking in a pickup truck waiting for the car ahead of you to move ten feet."

I let go of her hand so I can wrap my arm around her instead.

"Yeah, you're right. That's the only thing Arcadia Bay's got going for it."

"Yep," Rachel replies, nodding even more emphatically. "Only thing."

I stroke her hair and she leans on me even more, like a cat pressing against my leg.

I ask her, "So, what's it like being back in LA? Is your strength returning? Do you like Fallout Boy again?"

"1) Yes and 2) I never stopped."

She sits up straight, though still so close to me I can keep my arm around her. We're at the height of the wheel and her face turns wistful.

She says, "It's like . . . watching a movie trailer. Being back here on an adventure is more fun than it will really be when I move here, I know that. It's going to be really hard, even with a job to get me started. But all the same, I can't help but be excited to return. To be back home."

Even though I've never lived in L.A., I know what she means. Home is waiting for us here - both the new and different, and the intimately familiar. It's the future.

"I can't wait for a holiday to come and visit you," I say, squeezing her shoulder.

Rachel laughs, warm and sweet. "I haven't even left yet!" she giggles, waving it off. After a beat, though, she says, "By the way, I'm going to get a queen-sized bed, so when you do visit, we can sleep together comfortably. I'm looking forward to more motel-style comfort instead of fighting you for my covers."

I dodge the taunt with an, "Aww, you're sweet," and kiss her cheek. She turns to me for another kiss, long and gentle, and her giggling softens to silence.

A minute later, our foreheads resting together, I say softly, "Be my girlfriend." I had planned to ask, and ask all cute like 'Can I be your girlfriend,' but in the moment I just want to have her, to know that she's choosing me like I'm choosing her.

"Okay," she whispers back, and the instant I see her crack a smile, I kiss her again.

The kissing continues for a long time, my self-consciousness gradually fading away to press kisses to her neck and collarbone. Once we finally pull away to take a breather, I feel the need to blurt out, "Just so, um, you know - I've always wanted to have sex on a Ferris wheel. Not this one specifically, but, um -"

My sentence quickly mutates into meaningless mumbling as Rachel's hand slides from my knee along the inside of my thigh. That draws out a smirk on her face, and she leans close to me like she's going to start kissing my neck. I'm steeling myself against turning into just a puddle of a person when she whispers, strangely husky, "Oh yeah?" right against my ear.

I'm still racing to figure out how to deal with very suddenly wanting to have sex on this Ferris Wheel when the ride stops with us half-way down. The ride is over. It's time to get off go.

Rachel kisses my cheek and leans back as if we were just casually avoiding the ride. "I'll have to bring you back here sometime then, huh?"

I don't think I manage a coherent response before it's time to get off the ride.

We spend most of the next day at a tattoo parlor. Even though I promised Rachel that this is what I wanted to do to celebrate, I hadn't been all that into tattoos until I moved back to Arcadia Bay. Plus, it hasn't even been a month since it became legal for me to get a tattoo!

Despite all of that, I'm the first one to decide on a design I like. I'd been sketching out different deer over the past week, but after I do a few tweaks, I show it to the artist and she assures me it'll be easy enough to do.

I barely bleed, which I take to be a good sign, even if it hurts like hell. I get a small doe on my right shoulder blade, looking up at three stars in the sky. If Chloe and Rachel get why I added the stars, at least they don't say anything about it. Even I think it's a little cheesy.

Chloe's much faster about making up a design than Rachel, and she's in right after me. She shows three designs to the artist, but after mulling it over (and being egged on by Rachel), she decides to get all three design on her forearm - a raven, a blue jay, and a butterfly. She insists she has a good reason for each of them but refuses to explain to anyone 'who isn't her wife' so Rachel and I are just left googling them to get an idea.

Typical of Chloe, the designs are interwoven and complex, so she only gets the outline done, but even that takes long enough that Rachel is finally able to get an idea of what she wants.

Rachel had a bunch of different designs to start with, but once things got narrowed down to animal themes, she started getting creative. She didn't show us the final design (that she pulled off the internet) and insisted we'd just have to find out once it was taking shape.

I don't know why, but I kind of assumed Rachel would be stoic when getting her tattoo - the dragon wrapped around her calf was so large, I figured she must just be immune to the needle. But as it turns out, she's actually a baby about it. A few minutes after they start work on her shoulder, though, she asks me to sit next to her and hold her hand so she'll stay still. She practically crushes my hand over the next hour, but I can't say I mind being relied on for something like this. For a first date as girlfriends . . . it's pretty nice.

Chloe and I take guesses every few minutes at what the design is as soon as we see it has a wing, but since we both wouldn't stop guessing 'Sphinx' we totally missed the griffin until the head was complete.

We emerge that evening from the parlor looking like we got the shit beat out of us and with so little money I need to text my Mom to make sure we'll have food on the trip back to Arcadia Bay, but it's worth it.

I run into Victoria for the first time the day after we arrive home in the shower room before classes start. She spits toothpaste out in the sink and wipes her mouth the second she sees me, and I brace myself for whatever stinging witticism she has ready for me.

She just says, "You burn really bad, Caulfield."

That's . . . fair. I shrug. "I wasn't really born with the sun in mind, I guess."

I'm not really used to seeing her this early, before all the makeup and styled hair. She looks gaunt, but softer. Almost approachable. Almost.

"How was your trip?"

I smile as best I can this early in the morning, scratching the back of my head. I should have brought my bracelets so I'd have something to fidget with during a conversation.

"It was a great time, I think. I got a lot of really great photos and, I mean, it was my first time in California for anything but a stop in LAX. It's beautiful down there."

She shrugs. "If you like the semi-desert, I guess." If it's meant to be cutting, she doesn't put the usual amount of work into making it sound harsh. So much of her usual spite looks drained away - that, or I'm just really off-guard seeing her without makeup.

I'm waiting to go into the shower and she's waiting to leave, but neither of us actually moves to end the conversation. Instead, we stand there in awkward silence for a moment.

Finally, she says, "I actually . . . saw some of what you posted on Instagram. They were, in fact, great shots. Even the candid ones," she rolls her eyes on the word 'candid', but I think she just means 'pictures of Rachel.'

"Thanks," I reply, smile coming a little easier this time. "Have you heard back about your submission to that gallery?"

"Not yet," she says, shaking her head. Then, settling her stare on me, "But don't get too comfortable. Even if I don't make this one, there will be another. I'm going to come out on top once all is said and done this year."

Even if she's trying to be intimidating, the whole thing feels a little too shonen for me to be cowed. "We'll see about that," I reply.

Satisfaction coats her face, and she finally grabs her shower caddy and goes to leave. Just as she reaches the door, she gives a little back-handed wave and says, "Mazel tov, by the way," and is gone before I can say anything back.

There are many firsts on Tuesday, December 24, when Rachel and I sneak off before a Christmas party with her dad and buddies from his band. It's a crisp, cold afternoon, sunset already fast approaching before it's even hit 5pm, and I hope I'll at least have a few minutes of light for photos by the time we reach the light house.

Rachel pauses when we reach the top of the path, and she drops my hand as I pull away.

"How . . . how did that get here?" She asks, pointing at the lighthouse door where my guitar case sits.

"Trickery," I offer, and she follows me cautiously.

"I thought we were here to take photos," Rachel says, eyes narrows with suspicion, arms crossed over her body. She takes a seat on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and I sit across from her, pulling my guitar from the case.

"Oh, we are. I just didn't say what of."

"What of, then?" Rachel asks, even more suspicious now.

"You. But I have something for you first."

"What is it?" she asks, edging into playful hostility. "Some sort of . . . romantic trick? A sneak attack? 'Hey there Delilah?'"

"Close, and don't think I didn't consider playing that song. But no. I, uh. I wrote something for you."

Rachel's face drops into sudden horror. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Max," she whines, "that's way too good of a gift. I'll - I don't know, cry or something."

"Babe," I begin. It works like a charm, leaving her doe-eyed, if still grumpy. "Please let me play my song for you."

She pouts, pulling her legs up close to her torso so she can rest her hands and head on her knees. "Fine."

She looks nervous, and it makes me want to kiss her, but I can't give in yet. Rachel's so beautiful and sweet that it's hard to ignore, but at the very least, I can channel my frustration at not touching her this very instant into playing.

I strum the keys and tune the guitar one last time, and then begin.

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round World upside down I know I know

Home a distant time Smoke ore clearer skies Everybody lies I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

She sits eerily still, eyes trained on me. There's no smile or anything like I expected, but soon she buries her face into her legs with her eyes closed. I don't know what to make of that, but I keep playing.

I will play the game I will take the blame I will break the same I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round I will let you down I know I know

In every pause you knew Take my breath away, you do And life is so strange it's true But so are you

It's not until the song is over that I can finally hear what I was missing. Softly, softly Rachel cries, and as soon as I hear it, I drop the guitar along the side of a rock. She looks up as I approach, wiping the tears off her face.

"Baby - baby what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Rachel looks up at me, taking a few seconds while she struggles for words. After a second, she forfeits even that, and reaches up, cupping my face with her hands, pulling me down into a kiss.

"I - I told you I'd cry, dammit." She sniffles as we rest our heads together.

A feeling of awe fills my chest, warm and radiant. Not as energetic as electricity, but just as intense. Something new.

"I love you," she whispers.

It's the first time. And not for a second do I doubt it.

It's the first time, and I'm shaking. The cold wind from the light house makes a good excuse, but just the process of peeling off my clothes in front of her is what really makes me tremble. I haven't been topless in front of someone since I was a child, and the feeling of Rachel's hands on my sides are something totally new. She strokes my back while we kiss until the shivering stops, although it comes back in bursts every time she finds a sensitive spot on my skin with her hands or mouth.

That feeling of wonder refuses to leave, and I'm enveloped in it. I've never had what I'd call a 'religious experience,' but if I were to imagine a feeling of holiness, it would be this.

I don't know how many times I say 'I love you,' but it's too many to count.

The weeks after Rachel leaves are the loneliest I've had since I moved to Seattle, and Chloe is right there with me. We try to keep up our regular hang-outs, and when that fails, we try reverting to old habits. After about an hour of doodling on scraps of paper (and Chloe's bedroom floor) with songs autoplaying from her computer, a familiar track comes on. She sighs seconds into the song and rolls onto her back, and I follow suit a moment after.

"Rachel's alarm?"

She nods, "Yeah," patting at her vest pocket for a second. "God that makes me want a cigarette."

"Out?" I ask, reaching up towards the ceiling. The bracelet Rachel made for me isn't as brilliant in the dark of Chloe's room, but it's still pretty.

Rachel lifts her hand up as well. She's wearing a blue and white bracelet I feel like I haven't seen in a long time, or like I've only seen it in old photographs.

"I'm trying to quit, actually."

"Oh, for real?" I roll on my side, and Chloe drops her hand back onto her chest.

"Yeah. I mean, that stuff will kill ya, you know."

I place my hand on top of hers, more than a little happy and very lonely. "Proud of you."

Chloe doesn't respond; all she does is close her eyes and smile, waiting for the song to finish playing.

Anon asked: if youre cis why are you talking about trans issues on the internet. these arent about you. stop being a transphobe and shut the fuck up.

Every part of that makes my blood boil, and I'm not entirely sure why. I just know to the core of my being that they're wrong, even though I've expressed similar sentiments before. I don't particularly care what cis people have to say about trans issues online. But I've thought about this so much, I know it's not just something I made up on the spot. Is that what's really pissing me off, or is it . . .

noirangel: look, I get that you have good intentions behind being mean to me on Tumblr, but I'm going to need you to stop. I provided sources where I could, and drew from the experiences of trans people I know, including myself, wherever I couldn't. I'm not shutting up because these are my real, lived experiences, as well as those of people around me, and I don't appreciate this shit in my ask box just because you want me to be quiet. Please fuck off.

Holy shit. I said it. I really said it.

I'm not sure what to do next. I just typed it out online - can I just leave it like that? Does saying it one time make it true? How do I really know I'm trans?

This deteriorates quickly while I rapidly refresh my blog, waiting to see if there's any reaction to what I said. The first response I get is just a like, but even that feels like a breath of fresh air. The first person to see this, at least, didn't reject me. That's something. But there's someone I'm a little more concerned about than random people on the internet.

Max: hey hon, i've got kind of a weird question. Max: do you think you would still be interested in me even if I weren't a girl?

I expect a lengthy pause, maybe lots of suspicious questions.

Instead, Rachel responds after about thirty seconds with:

Rachel: yeah babe lol Rachel: ur hot and i love you Rachel: why?

God. God, I love her.

Max: haha I was just wondering. Max: I love you too ^^

I drop my phone onto my chest and let out a sigh of relief. That's not quite coming out just yet, but the security for one day is all I need right now.

Our first fight wasn't something I expected at all - I hadn't even realized at first we were having it. It clicked right around,

Me: Do you seriously think I'm cheating on you? Chloe and I are your best friends Rachel, we wouldn't just choose to blow everything up just because you're living away.

Rachel: I know, and I'm not saying that. And it's not like I think you would have chose to do anything, but things happen, you know? Maybe just one time when she was drunk or - or something.

Me: But we seriously didn't.

Rachel: I - o-okay. Fine. If you say so.

Me: Rachel.

Rachel: What, Max?

Me: Look, I get where you're coming from, but I'm seriously capable of making choices around these things. I don't just fall into romantic or sexual situations by pure accident - it doesn't really work for me that way. And if I thought something were going to happen between me and Chloe, I'd talk to you about it. Because I seriously, really wouldn't want to blow up our relationship because my relationship with Chloe has been changing.

Rachel: Has it?

Me: What?

Rachel: . . . been changing.

Me: Oh my god! No! Because I made conscious decisions against it. Please trust me.

Rachel:

Rachel: . . . you're right

Me: Hon, are you crying?

Rachel: Um . . . yeah, sorry, a little. It just, um.

Rachel: Sorry. I just realized none of this shit is about you, exactly. I'm expecting a lot of my own mistakes out of you and that's - that's not fair.

Me: What do you mean?

Rachel: I don't think I've ever been very . . . uh . . . forthcoming with you about what my and Chloe's relationship was like before you came back to Arcadia Bay.

Rachel: We, um . . . so. We were dating, I guess. We never made it super clear, but it was definitely a romantic thing.

Rachel: I loved her.

Me: I know.

Rachel: Did Chloe tell you?

Me: No. Do you remember that night in the motel in San Francisco, right before we started dating?

Rachel: No? Wait, yeah. Shit. Did you hear us talking?

Me: Yep.

Rachel: Well, fuck.

Rachel: Well, yeah. We were together. But we weren't very good at it. I know Chloe blames herself a lot for how it all fell apart, but if we're being honest, I think I was sabotaging it from the start. Chloe loved me so much and it really scared me - like I wasn't worthy of it or I'd mess it all up. Or something. So I made . . . sure of it. And I cheated on her. A lot. And I'd tell myself it was accidental, or that we weren't officially together so it didn't really count, and, just, stupid stuff like that.

Me: That's . . . pretty messed up, sweetie. But I think I get it.

Rachel: Yeah . . . you remember Frank?

Me: Your ex?

Rachel: Yeah. I started seeing him while Chloe and I were still together. She never actually figured out who I was with, but once she realized I'd cheated on her, she blew up. And things were a total mess for a while, until I stopped seeing Frank and put things back together. And that's . . . right around when you moved back. And . . . we just never really talked out everything that happened.

Me: That . . . makes my first year back make a lot more sense.

Rachel: Yeah.

Me: And to be clear, I think you really messed up.

Rachel: I know.

Me: But I know Chloe doesn't hate you for it, and I don't hate you for it. But I know she's confused and hurt, still. She loves you.

Rachel: I know.

Me: I love you, too.

Rachel: I love you, too, hon. And . . . I. I miss you.

Me: I miss you, too.

Rachel: I miss Chloe too. Not just right now but . . . these past two years. Ever since you came back, it's felt like she's had eyes only for you, and I've been stupid jealous. It made being friends with you complicated, in the beginning. For a lot of reasons.

Me: I can definitely understand that. I'm not mad. We found our own rhythm - eventually.

Rachel: Ha! Just in time, too.

Rachel: Please don't tell Chloe that I miss her. I want to work things out, but it's still too . . .

Rachel: I'm still not ready.

Me: I won't say anything, I swear.

Rachel: You swear?

Me: I swear! I just said so.

Rachel: Okay. I love you. I'm sorry I dragged you down into all of my feelings like this. You're not me.

Me: I love you too. And you're not who you used to be either, Rachel.

Me: Let's . . . in the future, when something like this comes up, let's just talk, okay? I know things between the three of us are complicated, but I think we can make it work. I super believe in us.

Rachel: We're star-crossed, huh?

Me: Totally, actually bound by celestial forces.

Rachel: Even if we weren't, I'd still choose you, you know.

Me: You sap. I love you.

Rachel: I love you, too.

Our graduation is out on the football field across from the main school buildings, with about 100 chairs set out for students and faculty while families sit on the bleachers. It's uncomfortably hot, and most of the students are actively shading themselves with their mortarboard if they think they can get away from it.

Principal Wells clears his throat and says, "And now, we'll be hearing from our Salutatorian, Kate Marsh."

Kate graduates as our Salutatorian thanks to her taking 1 less AP class than Warren, and her speech is the one I'm really interested in hearing. Not that Warren's wasn't good exactly, it's just that he had me look it over a half-dozen times because "you're good at English" even though I scraped by the minimum GPA for college acceptance. Kate has been guarding the content of her speech carefully for months, but knowing her, she probably outlined its entire structure and theme months ahead of time before submitting a totally different speech a few weeks ago.

Kate walks slowly up to the podium, although she and the other students giving speeches are seated only a few paces back from it. She takes a few seconds to look at the paper with her speech, looks up at the audience, takes a deep breath, and smiles.

"I'd first like to say thank you - thank you to Blackwell Academy's staff and faculty, for the exceptional education and facilities you provided to us as students; thank you to my classmates for making this school the most challenging and rewarding year of my life; thank you to my family for supporting me this year and every year until now; and thank you to my friends for making Blackwell my home away from home.

I would like to speak frankly about my high school career. When I say it was challenging and rewarding, I do not mean that just intellectually, or, as those of you who have been through high school might say, socially. I've suffered from depression for many years, most acutely since I entered high school. It wasn't that I was bullied or had exceptional struggles in my life; my brain just ticks a little differently than others. When I came to Blackwell Academy, I lost the familiar things that kept me standing, and even with the excellent instruction available to me here, I couldn't imagine getting through this school year. I guess you could say it was a dark time for me.

But there was light here, and it reached me. My teachers were a light - they treated me with kindness and dignity, and helped me continue my work even when there were days I couldn't make it out of bed. My friends were a light - they stood by me, listened to me, supported me, and loved me. My faith, which had never connected closely with my school life before I came here, was a light I shared with many people, some of whom had the same background as me, but most did not. All of these lights showed me the way forward, even when it was slow and stumbling."

Kate pauses, as her voice is shaking too much to speak coherently. She takes two deep breaths, and continues.

"The kindness I was shown as a student at Blackwell was the most meaningful thing I found here. It gave me hope. Hope not necessarily that I would get better - I do not know if I will ever simply 'get better' from depression - but hope in kindness's power to shine a light, to cast out the dark. To make the world better, even on the smallest scale.

I cannot guarantee that this is what we all found here - our senior years were nothing if not messy, complicated, and different. But I know that this light is precious, and that I will take it with me from this place. It will continue to guide me forward, and I hope that I can be a light for others through kindness and compassion. I want to help make a world where there is always a light there - that if you reach out, there will be happiness waiting for you. I won't be alone for trying. I know that, at least. And a few other things, as I did manage to do pretty OK in school by the end."

Victoria is sitting two seats down from me, and I think she's the only person who doesn't laugh at that. She's made-up, flawless, and sad. We never really became close, and right now, I regret that. I think it's easy to regret the things you did or could have done at the end of the year.

I wonder what Victoria regrets.

"This really has been the most rewarding year of my life, but I think the best one is still to come. Thank you."

Kate bows her head for a moment at the audience as the class and families erupt into applause, then walks away from the podium.

It's some time still until we all throw our hats in the air to conclude the ceremony, but no sooner has mine gone flying than I'm out of the row of chairs and running straight towards her.

"KATE!"

"MAX!"

She holds her arms open and just sinks the impact as I barrel into her, doing my best to crush her with a hug. Luckily for us both, my upper body strength is pretty pathetic.

"You're amazing!"

"No, you're amazing!" she yells right back even though we're 0 inches apart. "And thank you!"

"NO, THANK YOU! That was such a good speech and-"

She shakes her head. "No, come on, weren't you listening?" She drops her hands from around me and takes my hands. "Thank you. Seriously. I love you."

I beam, and squeeze her hands. "Am I your light?"

"Yeah," she answers without hesitation, and I blush.

"Oh, shit, um, I was teasing you, I thought you would say something witty and now I'm, uh-"

She's pleased, wiggling a little bit at my discomfort. "C'mon, say you love me back; I'm like, super anxious right now."

"I love you. You're the best." It feels so good to say that, but I'm doing my best to not fall in love with her at such an inopportune moment.

"Second best, but I think that's probably good enough," she says, pulling me back into a hug. "Stay in touch, okay? No getting so distracted with LA you forget about me."

"I could never, Kate Marsh."

It's some months later that I come home from class to find Chloe sitting on the couch at our new apartment, watching How It's Made with the volume about as low as it can go while still being audible.

"Hey Chloe," I greet her, dumping my backpack near the door.

She turns and waves, only mouthing a 'hello.' Curious, I walk over to find Rachel asleep on the couch with her head in Chloe's lap, curled up so she can fit.

"Oh, there's my beautiful girl," I croon, crouching down in front of them and stroking Rachel's hair. She stirs at the touch, but does not wake up.

"She fell asleep like an hour ago; I've been too scared to move her, like a cat," Chloe whispers.

"I understand."

A minute passes while I pet Rachel and Chloe idly strokes her arm with her thumb, and even though I'm exhausted from the day, I feel light.

"I'm so fucking happy." I sit cross-legged in front of the couch, no intentions of stopping what I'm doing anytime soon.

"Good day at class?"

I shake my head. "Mediocre day. But my life is . . . well. I kind of love it."

Chloe doesn't say anything, only closes her eyes and smiles. For a second, I think I see Rachel smiling, too, but she only nuzzles my hand before falling back asleep.

Art by @cahlart

#gold can stay #life is strange #love is strange #max caulfield #chloe price #rachel amber #pricefield #amberfield #amberprice #amberpricefield #polyamory #fluff #happy ending #long post #fan fiction #ben writes stuff

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littlebookmermaid · 5 years

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I enjoyed writing down my headcanons to what I believe happens after httyd3 so I wanted to make a second one (I’ll try to make it more happy this time haha)(again; grammar mistakes and spoilers below!)

→ Two years after the dragons left; Valka, Gobber and Astrid decides that Hiccup needs a ”vacation” to clear his head. He has been working non stop to make New Berk a fantastic place to live, while being a chief and trying to keep up with his family and friends. But Hiccup is Hiccup and they can all see that he needs some time away to chase new adventures. Hiccup and Astrid leave Valka and Snotlout in charge and sails away.

→ (Un)fortunately they end up staying away longer than expected because the ship takes them to America.

→ They have some sort of adventure and when they return to New Berk; their eyes sparkles and their cheeks are all rosy. Valka decides that they should get away more often.

→ No one questions Zephyr as heir (because she’s a girl) because Berk has never shown that boys are preferable for that title.

→ However, a chief from another tribe comes to visit and insults both Zephyr and Astrid by claiming, not so subtly, that women can’t rule. Astrid takes out her axe and Hiccup tries to stop her. (the marriage episode in rtte guys) He then calmly, yet sternly, demands the man to leave his island for insulting his family.

→ Astrid wants to cut a hole in his sail but decides against it when she realizes that Zephyr is right behind her. She starts up a conversation with her about what happened and Zephyr understands and proclaims that she’s gonna be “just like her mom” when she’s chief - “then no one will mess with her.” Hiccup agrees and Astrid has never felt so loved and moved in her entire life.

→ Fishlegs favorite animal is a little sheep he found once. She was hurt and he nursed her back to health. He asks Tuffnut what to call her and he immediately responds with “Sheep.” (Like Chicken)

→ Nuffink’s middle name is Finn after Astrid’s uncle.

→ Snotlout’s wife agreed to marry him because she loves his loyalty and she thinks he’s hilarious. But she doesn’t like his beard.

→ When Zephyr is older she always follows Hiccup on meetings (voluntarily) and her parents don’t understand why. One day Hiccup asks her and she says that she’s always done it and she likes that it’s something they do together. Hiccup melts and asks her to every meeting after that.

→ Zephyr loves when her mother braids her hair and tries her best to practice braids on her little brother.

→ One time Hiccup got really sick and ”missed” when he was suppose to go back to Toothless. The dragon, however, appeared outside his hut because he was afraid something had happened to his best friend. When Hiccup recovered Toothless gave him a look before he left as of saying “never do that again.”

→ Astrid never learns how to cook and she’s not that broken up about it. Every year she tries to prefect her yaknog recipe though but there’s really no luck with that either, only Nuffink loves it.

→ When Nuffink receives a tiny little axe, Hiccup wonders if he’s gonna practice with it or use it as a paperweight like he did. After a while they have to take it away from him because he throws it everywhere. “You’re just like your mom.”

→ When Hiccup realizes that he needs a new prosthetic leg, he goes through a phase where he wonders if he should change the design since it doesn’t have to fit Toothless’ fin anymore. But after a few tries and they way his heart clenches every time he tries another one on- he decides against a new design and keeps his old one, with a few Hiccup-y tweaks.

#HTTYD 3 #HTTYD 3 spoilers #HTTYD3 spoilers #HTTYD the hidden world spoilers #Astrid #Hiccup #Dragons #headcanons #HTTYD #See I managed to make it happier!

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themurphyzone · 5 years

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Dooferella Ch 1

Summary: Heinz has to read to children at the local library as community service, but things go awry when Heinz uses a Fairy Tale-inator to spice up the story of Cinderella. Unfortunately, something malfunctions and Heinz is transported into a strange fairy tale world! Now Dooferella, he’s stuck with a long list of chores for his parents and goody two shoes brother until a summons from the kingdom’s headquarters arrives….

Ch 1: Once Upon a Time in the Danville Public Library

Musical cliptastic countdowns were not a viable way to knock out two hundred hours of community service. Monogram’s contract had been rewritten to include a Will Not Ever Co-Host with Heinz Doofenshmirtz clause, and Perry refused to cheat and add more hours onto the community service form, though he made a small concession and factored in the ten minutes of commercial breaks.

Heinz still had a grand total of 199 hours and 30 minutes of community service left.

Well, 198 hours and 30 minutes after this reading gig at the library.

Reading to children was something an upstanding citizen might do, but no evil scientist worth their salt would be doing something considered beneficial and good to society in such a public area.

Heinz’s evil street cred was taking a nosedive, though he didn’t have much to begin with.

“CAN I PICK THE STORY, DAD?” Norm asked. “I’VE BEEN BRUSHING UP ON POPULAR CHILDREN’S BOOKS.”

“I’m not your dad,” Heinz snapped. “I really gotta fix whatever bug is causing you to say that. Besides, the story-picking privileges belong solely to the storyteller, which is me. Last I checked, the Mother Goose Corner isn’t a democracy. Not that it would matter, since kids can’t vote and stuff.”

Norm crashed through the library wall, leaving a giant gaping hole and massive amount of rubble where the entrance used to be. The head librarian made several furious shushing motions in Norm and Heinz’s direction, but didn’t look up from the thick tome she was reading.

“CAN WE READ THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD?” Norm asked as they headed to the Mother Goose Corner. “I THINK IT’S A VERY INSPIRING STORY ABOUT OVERCOMING HARDSHIP AND-“

“Last time I read you that story, you repeated ‘I think I can’ ad nauseam and prevented Perry the Platypus from hearing my spiel on the Banana Peel-inator!” Heinz retorted. “I’ll be picking the books from here, because chances are you’ll wind up stealing a catchphrase or mantra and I’ll be the one dealing with the copyright issues that come out of that…actually, making copyrights could make a good evil scheme one day. Doof-patented self-destruct buttons, bratwurst brands, and evil! I should definitely copyright evil. And suing and forcing people to shoulder their own attorney fees is also evil, so that’s a bonus! And with that kind of monopoly, I can take over and rule the ENTIRE! TRI! STATE! AREA!”

He cackled evilly, though the moment was rudely cut off when a group of middle-aged women shushed him. Heinz scowled. Their shushing was at a way higher decibel level than his cackling. At least his brand of evil laughter didn’t threaten to destroy people’s eardrums. Besides, the drummer from Love Handel was always rhythmically stamping books at the check-in and nobody complained about that.

The Mother Goose Corner was mercifully secluded from the rest of the library. A blue curtain decorated with waterfowl separated the small room from any prying eyes.

“Perry the Platypus would love this curtain. Remind me to ask someone where I can buy one of these things. Probably wrap it up and make it this year’s Christmas present. Alongside another vase. He liked the last one I sent him,” Heinz said.

“HI, MY NAME IS NORM. I LIKE SQUIRRELS AND EVERYTHING ELSE LITTLE BOYS ENJOY,” Norm greeted a young boy with a green baseball cap. The other kids quickly flocked to the edges of the mat to avoid getting crushed by Norm’s titanium posterior.

“I’m Balthazar Horowitz, but I’m trying to legally change it to Ballpit Kid!” the boy exclaimed.

“MY DAD IS TODAY’S STORYTELLER,” Norm declared. “I’M VERY PARTIAL TO THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD. HINT HINT.”

“Real subtle, Norm,” Heinz muttered. “And for the millionth time, I’m not your dad!”

Someone tugged on his lab coat, and Heinz glanced down. A little girl with puffy blonde pigtails stared back at him, rocking back and forth on her heels cutely. “Excuse me, but may I pick today’s story?” she giggled.

She was adorable, but it was the calculating sort of adorable.

When Vanessa was little, she pulled the innocent look if she wanted something. Heinz’s resolve crumbled every time.

But since this girl was a total stranger to him, it was going to be way easier to resist.

“Nope, doesn’t matter how cute and innocent you make yourself,” Heinz said as he turned away from the girl and leafed through the stack of books by the storyteller’s chair. Thankfully, The Little Engine That Could wasn’t among their choices. “I already told Norm that I was picking today’s book and I’m not budging on the matter. Ugh, not that any of these options are any better. I don’t get how books on overeating caterpillars or uncreative ursine parents who can’t come up with better names for their kids than Brother and Sister can be engaging to kids nowadays.”

Heinz rejected five books before a tiny black shoe stomped on his hand. A pudgy hand grabbed the front of his turtleneck, and he found himself face to face with the cute little girl.

“Look, I’ll cut you some slack since you’re obviously new to the Mother Goose Corner,” the girl said casually. “But I’m going to warn you once and only once. This is my turf and I pick the stories. And don’t bother warning anyone else. The other kids won’t squeal on me. Nobody outside this room will ever believe you. Except for maybe Candace, but I have my own methods of discrediting her. Capiche?”

“Alright!” Heinz yelped, throwing up his hands in surrender. Pint-sized powerhouses were dangerous to push around, but at least Perry the Platypus was firmly on the good side. He was definitely not messing with a kid whose evil stare put the entirety of LOVEMUFFIN to shame. “You win! Just let a guy earn his community service hours in peace, kid!”

Satisfied, the girl shoved her preferred book into his face, then claimed a bean bag chair for herself. “Yay, Cinderella!” she exclaimed, as if she hadn’t just threatened him five seconds ago.

The other kids muttered among themselves, giving Suzy a wide berth as they settled on the far edge of the mat.

“Rule number one of the Mother Goose Corner,” Ballpit Kid murmured to Norm. “Little Suzy Johnson always gets her way.”

“WOW, DAD GOT FOILED AND THIS ISN’T EVEN PART OF AN EVIL SCHEME,” Norm replied.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s laugh at the soon-to-be dictator’s expense. Cause that’s gonna bode well for you in the future,” Heinz snapped as he sat down in the storyteller’s chair. “You like Cinderella, huh?”

In Heinz’s opinion, the book’s cover painted a really misleading picture of the protagonist. It contained the image of a smiling girl in a silvery ballgown, surrounded by smiling woodland critters with the Fairy Godmother and Prince Charming standing in the background.

The Drusselsteinian Cinderella was a lot bleaker, considering that the Fairy Godmother didn’t exist and Cinderella spent most of her time sobbing her eyes out over her mother’s grave. It wasn’t common knowledge that the Brothers Grimm version was adapted from the Drusselsteinian story, though they changed the ending so that the evil stepsisters were punished. The original ending stated that the evil stepsisters poisoned Cinderella at the banquet after her wedding to the prince.

In hindsight, Drusselstein fairy tales were usually designed to crush children’s dreams and traumatize them for life.

But these kids didn’t need to know that.

“She always picks Cinderella,” another girl mumbled. “We all know how it goes.”

By the time Heinz had finished the obligatory once upon a time introduction, most of the kids’ eyes glazed over. Only Norm and Suzy were paying attention.

Well, it was hard to tell if Norm was paying attention since he didn’t have facial expressions.

“Cinderella washed the dishes, fed the animals, tended the garden, swept the floor, dusted the furniture, and cooked for her stepmother and stepsisters every day and…well, you get the picture,” Heinz yawned and flipped the page, deciding to skip over the full list of chores since he was pretty sure the kids had a good understanding of Cinderella’s daily chores. “Honestly, her family isn’t even the good type of evil. They’re just jerks.”

While Heinz didn’t know of any versions of Cinderella where she was forced to pull lawn gnome duty on cold nights with only a balloon to keep her company, he didn’t think it was out of character for the stepmom.

“HER EVIL STEPSISTERS NAMED HER CINDERELLA BECAUSE SHE WAS FORCED TO SLEEP IN A FIREPLACE AMONG THE CINDERS,” Norm supplied.

“No, she doesn’t. She sleeps in a tower,” Ballpit Kid said.

“That’s too mean!” a girl wailed. “How come we call her Cinderella if it’s insulting?”

“COULD WE GET BACK TO THE STORY ALREADY?” Suzy roared, shutting up the other kids. She flopped against her beanbag chair. “Keep going, please!”

But Heinz was already getting an idea. He put the book down and brought out the Parked Car Away-inator he kept in his lab coat. Since he’d finished this device yesterday, he hadn’t encountered a parking problem where it was needed yet. But with a few minor alterations, he could easily tweak it into something that would be more useful for this situation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you might be onto something, Norm,” Heinz said as he switched the positions of a blue and orange wire.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I SAID, BUT I’M GLAD I HELPED. IF I HAD A CARDIOVASCULAR AND INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM, I WOULD BE BLUSHING.”

“We just need a more interesting medium. Cause happily ever afters get cliché once you’ve heard them a million times before. Granted, it usually ends up a happy ending for Cinderella, except in Drusselstein, but that place doesn’t lend itself well to happy endings anyway. Ah, there we go. Voila!” Heinz triumphantly held up his modified inator. “Behold! The Fairy Tale-inator!”

The Fairy Tale-inator was slightly slimmer than the Parked Car Away-inator and much easier to maneuver.

“This’ll give us a more engaging and realistic experience and make it way more interesting for all parties involved!” Heinz declared. “Besides, I forgot to bring a water bottle. I don’t want my throat to get dry while reading. I gotta keep it in good condition for my evil monologues.”

He blasted the book with his inator. A glowing blue residue clung to the cover as the beam died away. Heinz set the Fairy Tale-inator on his chair and picked up the book.

“Is that safe?” Ballpit Kid asked. “Television taught me that unnatural glows around objects aren’t a good sign.”

“Don’t worry. It shouldn’t be radioactive. You guys ready for an immersive experience?” Heinz grinned as he flipped to the first page. But instead of the moving illustrations he expected, he came face to face with a swirling blue portal. “You know, I don’t remember any portals in Cinderella. Kind of anachronistic for whatever ambiguous time period this story’s supposed to be in.”

A wind picked up from somewhere, and Heinz tucked his arms closer to his body as he shivered from the sudden chill.

“Hey, did it just get drafty in here or something? Does anyone know where the air conditioning unit is?” Heinz asked.

The wind grew stronger, sucking Heinz’s right arm into the portal like a vacuum. Heinz grabbed the edge of the book with his free hand and tried to yank it off, but only succeeded in getting his other arm stuck in the portal as well.

“Yeah, this looks and feels just about the same amount of awkward,” Heinz muttered, trying not to gasp as some unseen force tugged on his wrists insistently. “Norm, can you call Perry the Platypus for me and let him know I might be running late for the scheme tonight? Oh, and tell him there’s leftover shrimp pasta in the fridge if he’s feeling hungry. Thwarting’s not fun on an empty stomach.”

“SHOULD I SEND A DISTRESS ALERT TOO?”

Heinz scowled. “What do you mean distressed? I’m not distressed! Do I look like a damsel to you?”

Figures that the portal decided to suck Heinz’s legs and torso as well. Heinz had to crane his neck all the way back to see Norm.

His neck was gonna be really sore tomorrow.

“Alright, so I’m a little distressed,” Heinz admitted. “Looks like storytime’s over now. Man, they better let this count as part of my community service.”

Then the world spun around him in a dizzying swirl of blue and green. Heinz screamed as the wind battered him around like a rag doll, pushing him in every direction imaginable. His surroundings blurred together, becoming an indistinguishable mess of colors with no shape or form

He was pushed, pulled, tugged, yanked, and all the other synonyms that Heinz couldn’t think of because his brain wasn’t registering things properly. The sensations couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like an eternity.

To add insult to injury, the universe decided to plop him face-first into the leftover dust and ashes of a poorly maintained fireplace.

#dooferella fanfiction #phineas and ferb #fanfiction #heinz doofenshmirtz

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scripted-dalliances · 5 years

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Rest In Peace: Chapter Nine

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 9

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

A/N: This chapter introduces more Egyptian gods, which now really divides it from Season Two. So I guess now they are just my interpretations, and they will be tweaked with accordingly.

“It always ends, that's what gives it value.” Neil Gaiman

As it happens, they seek death but it's death that finds them, sitting in the shade of a roadside attraction as Sweeney attempts to get Horus to eat something other than peanuts and chips. So far, the young man has only eaten his fries and nibbled incrementally on the edges of a burger.

“Maybe he's a vegetarian?” Laura questions.

“He was a hawk, Not a fucking rabbit, he is just being picky because its cooked. Which he'll have to learn to love. Seeing how he is a real boy again.”Mad Sweeney says pointedly at the young god beside him.

Horus pouts, he is dressed in what they could find on the way here, mostly from gas stations. Cheap black flats, ugly bright orange beach shorts. A too-large t-shirt that was a horrible masterpiece of three photo shopped wolves all howling at a neon colored moon.

Laura elbows Sweeney in the gut and gestures with her face to change the young god's expression. The leprechaun huffs angrily, but in the end trades the last of his fries for the hardly touched burger.

“He will have to learn some day, dead girl. Someone catches him snatching mice with his bare hands and trying to gobble them up and that will be the end of that.”

“He has never been much of a fan of eating cow, ” Says a new voice, filled with undue mirth. “You should have started with cooked fish.”

It turns out to be a woman, tall as nearly Sweeney himself with flawless dark skin. She looks beautiful, in that kind of way that holds your gaze, with her cat like gold eyes and sensual full lips. She looks like she should be a model, spread across glossy magazines and plastered on bill boards for all to see, just that unreal and perfect.

At once, Horus is leaping up and hooting with joy to greet her. The new woman smiles gently and opens her arms to capture him up in a hug. Pulling him close to her chest and raining down kisses on his cheeks with tenderness only allowed for a lost love one. Its a warm reunion.

Finally, after a few more softy whispered exchanges the woman looks up to the pair watching them.

“Horus has been lost to us for many years, and it has always been difficult to keep him human for long. So, thank you.”

“We just gave him a lift.” Laura explains. It wasn’t even a long one considering. Maybe a state line.

“You provide a safe journey, and returned him home. Kept him human longer than he has been in decades, that’s no easy task.” The beautiful woman explains gently. There is a musical quality to her voice, that makes it impossible for Laura to fight. Its so soothing she can do nothing but accept the thanks

“Nephthys.” Mad Sweeney says. “I didn’t think you lived near these parts.” Last time he had checked on the gods here, she had been rumored to have left for New York, she dealt with grief and mourning. Perhaps a different her was more involved in the death part of things, but like most she had to cut and learn to live off the lean meats of faith she could obtain.

Nephthys, winds her fingers with Horus long claw like digits and joins to sit with them. With her designer dress and heels, she looks out of place at the dirty burger joint but none of that matters. She radiates such a calm energy that Laura likes instinctively. A rare thing that she questions just a little, deep down.

“I was called home, and was on my way when I felt Horus. There is concern about the coming war…among other things. Perhaps you felt the pull of home too, nephew?” She directs this to Horus who nods.

“Even the winds are changing.”

She nods like this makes sense and continues, “There are only a few of us left, and many have all but lost our powers, but when war comes we have always stood together. This is no different.”

Laura frowns, “I thought you guys were staying out of it.”

“We do not fear the end, nor do we have any urge renew ourselves to previous grandeur. Not at the expense of justice and order. It makes it hard to manipulate us.”

“You think that’s what this was, a manipulation?” Sweeney interjects, tone just shy of angry. He had joined the war efforts after all, had for a brief -insane- moment believed in it. Things had changed, grew more complicated but he hates to be played the fool. “Grimnir was a right cunt, but there is no denying the other side ain't much better. War between our sides was going to come sooner or later.”

“I think it's awfully convenient for a disused war god to lead a war of gods. Old against new, for ownership of a future that isn’t ours to choose. Time changes all things. Even belief, and once upon a time even the oldest of us was considered new. Odin was only selling what those who fear death feel the need to buy. A place in the world, that lasts forever, high above the end of all things.” She smiled sadly. “And you don't have to be a god to know that sounds too good to be true. All things must eventually end. To challenge that, ruins the whole point. Of life, death and after.” Nephthys looks Mad Sweeney in the eyes, “Mess with the natural order too much and it tends to mess with you back.”

He nods and accepts her words, she isn't wrong and deep down Sweeney admits he really only joined Grimnir and his stupid war for the chance of a end. A good one, that he could sneak into without losing too much.

He was done running and playing a coward from his own death, so what leg did he have to stand on? Fucking none. The only reason he wasn't trying his all to get back into the game was because he owed Laura too much and that would have to come first.

“Since we did you a favor, mind giving us one in return?” He questions bluntly. Nephthys nods, and he continues. “We need to find the brothers. Anubis and Ibris. Dead girl here has some questions about the after life, or lack of it.”

For a second, her gold eyes light up with amusement, but then Horus whispers into her ear and the look fades into carefully poised seriousness. “I can give their address, it's not far from here, but...if I may be so bold, Laura Moon. I don't think they can help you.”

“What? Why?”

“My kin knows a great deal about death, of bone and tissue, of preserving it past it's prime. Of dealing with the spirit that is cage within it, but neither of them will know what to do with you. You are much more than just dead. If you want answers, you'll have to look else where.”

Sweeney doesn't need eyes in his head to feel the anger flow off Laura's tiny form next to him. It echoes like a siren, warning him that if he doesn't intervene things are going to get nasty very quickly. Instead of trying to pacify Laura -only a mad man would try that route, and he's not as mad as he used to be- he puts himself forward to the goddess.

“Are you going to tell us where to look, or to just fuck off? -because I don't suggest the latter. She might look like a tiny thing, but she's got my coin in her belly and recently beheaded a god with nothing but her own anger and a stolen sword. That's luck and balls, and it's a winning combination if there ever was one.”

Nepnthys throws back her head and laughs, it's a nice one.

“Oh. I know.” She tells them with evident joy, “She won't stop talking about it. There have been those who seek life after death before, Laura Moon. Many have tried, few succeed.” She tilts her head, reading something written invisible on the face of the dead girl and amends her words. “Laura McCabe. Christians have their Lazarus, the Greeks have Orpheus, all of them share a certain seed of an old story. And that's what you are seeking, yes? A mortal death, a return to mortal life.”

“I'm not asking for much. Just what is owed.”

The goddess bestows her a smile, kind in gesture but never the less just a little sad.

“You are owed more than that, and my sister has every intention of helping you get it.”

Laura doesn't understand the context of Nepnthys's words but Sweeney fucking does. Ice sinks into his veins, nearly stopping his heart. There are rumors, there always have been, about the really old ones. What they've done to survive this new world, where they hide and who keeps their faith for them in secret. Most are lies, tales spun for the sake of giving the rest of them some hope.

Then there are the ones, like Isis who make the rest of them look like fucking children.

“Fuck me.” Mad Sweeney says under his breath. Fuck.

“Want to explain what's got you so spooked?” Laura questions as soon as she can. Nephthys and Horus are getting comfortable in the back of the car. Who had been invited by the latter to join them. Laura herself didn’t mind and Sweeney had been mutely polite since it turned out that the ancient Egyptian goddess accepted the claim of shot gun seriously.

Now she has the chance to question that silent while the two of them pump gas and grab snacks for the rest of the trip.

“This is good right? Far as I can tell, she's not a dick and bird boy ain't exactly all there enough to lie so whats got your panties in a bunch? This could get me my life back and your coin in your hands within a weeks time. Why are you acting like you're scared of her.”

Mad Sweeney tucks his hands into the soft joints of her elbows with forced tenderness, and yet she still feels a burst of hungry heat. Clawing up her veins and nerves, consuming her in a flash of burning that makes her shiver with the desire of more.

“That's why.” He says, pulling off his touch quickly and making her want to wage violence to get it back. It's only the insanity of that thought that keeps her from doing so. “Neph ain't a bad lass, always had a weak spot for the dying and dead. As far as guides go, you could have worse, lemme tell ya, but it ain't her I'm shaking in my boots about.”

“Her sister. Isis.”

He nods, “Heavy hitter if there ever was one, and she knows about you and what you did to Odin.”

Laura picks up on what he's trying not to say out loud. He thinks this could be a trap.

“And the touch thing?” She he questions and then nearly falls back. She has shit vision these days, what with her eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets and maggots threatening to make homes in the cavities, but she would bet with the golden coin that she just saw him blush. “Oh, okay, you are going to explain what that reaction was. Right now. Spill it.”

“Fuck you.” He retorts, a knee gut reaction to anything she says these days, “Fuck you, this is all your fault. This is what you wanted, alright?” Sweeney hisses, offended as he is embarrassed by his own racing heart. “An equal little give and take, remember? I believe, you believe and we both get what we want.”

She blinks at him, “Yeah, and?”

“Put it together dead girl.” When she doesn't, he hangs his head and curses. Then stomps. Then sighs and eventually says, “Remember...remember the story of your mum and the local minister?”

“Uh, yeah. The story about my mother having an affair,” She crosses her arms, anger rising. “Didn't really ever forget. What the fuck does that have to do with anything.”

“Recall that crack I made, that it was her, offering herself up to her god of choice?”

“Yeah-” She starts, but then stops because oh holy fucking hell. “You are fucking kidding me.”

“Wish I was. Except, you ain't just been believing in me, have you Laura.” He says, voice wavering like the wind across the plains, “You saved my life, you hold all my luck. Everything that I am, you've got, and that ain't just some bullshit thing a casual follower or a believer does. That...that's some other level shit. The likes of my kind don't come down for the mountains to dance with your lot, one on one for a fuckin’ reason. It's dangerous. Addicting. Every touch is playing with fire, with magic. Growing and twisting us together. Could wreck us both if we aren't careful...once or twice, we might be able to get away with. Might be tricky, but it's been done before. Keep fuckin’ about with it and who knows.”

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything!”

In an instant, he's there. Towering above her, with a heaving chest and furious gaze, ready to spit in her face. “Because what the fuck was I going to say? By the way, cunt who likes to punch me thrice a day and twice as much on Sunday, guess what? You're tied to me forever, because you don't know how to just believe in something. You had to know it, didn't you? All my secrets and then some, had to dig between my ribs and take my heart too.” In any other context, between two different people this would be a romantic speech. But he doesn't say it with passionate affection, he says it between gritted teeth and resentment. “And you opened yourself up to hide it. So now your blood heats and rushes for me because it sings for my touch and mine does the same, dead girl because we are two sides of the same spinning coin now. Of believer and belief.”

The confession drains her, she feels the earth spin under her feet.

“I believe in you, you believe in me.” She whispers.

“Aye, and now because neither of us do things by halves, we've fucked ourselves good and proper. Binding the likes of these rarely end pretty, something always gives. Nothing ever ends without a lesson. Like I'll get me coin back but lose my hands. You’ll get your shit life back complete with Mr.Moon and the next day you'll choke on your poptart.” He chances a glance over her shoulder to the back of the car. He can't see them, but he knows the gods are watching. “If things go sour, they will so faster if they know. So keep your hands to yourself and I'll do the same.” Sweeney tells her, putting his best authoritative voice on.

She only just keeps herself from breaking his hand out of resentment.

“Some how, I think I'll be able to control myself.” Laura replies with venom, turning from him and heading back to the car. Wrenching the driver's side open with such force that the metal whines like a broken beast before she slams it shut loud and hard enough to make him wince in sympathy.

Fuck.

This was going to be a fun car ride.

#madwife #mad wife #mad wife fic #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 6 years

Text

desire (kinds of love)

Tony Stark x Reader

Part Two of the Kinds of Love Series

Summary: prequel to ‘affection’. you moved into the avengers facility shortly after the events of civil war. tony is, for the most part, tony, but you can’t stop seeing that haunted expression in his eyes. your friendship grows as the two of you spend more time together, until one night he finally admits to you what happened in siberia, and everything between you changes.

Characters/Pairings: tony stark x reader

Warnings: fluff, then angst. smut. explicit language. a hint of dom!tony tbh.

Word Count: 4,539

Prequel - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 -

MARVEL MASTERLIST

“Tony?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is there a reason you’re in my lap?”

It had been a bit more than a month since you’d packed up the cramped little dorm room at N.Y.U. you’d been calling home for the last three years and had moved into a considerably more spacious bedroom at the Avengers facility outside of the city. You were still trying to accustom yourself to having a room all your own, let alone one of its size, not to mention the private en suite and walk-in wardrobe. You still found it strange to walk into the latter and see your battle suit hanging up in plain sight, ready and waiting just in case. But in all the time you’d spent in the facility, you hadn’t had to wear it. And you hadn’t actually seen very much at all of Tony Stark.

Sometimes, you attended the same sessions of Rhodey’s physical therapy – but you usually took a back seat in conversation then, as Tony tweaked the harness he’d designed to better work with Rhodes – and occasionally you’d cross each other in the hall late at night on your way to the fridge. Otherwise, though, it often felt like you weren’t even living in the same building.

The only real hint you got that he was always around was given to you when you cooked. You made dinner almost every night, cooking enough to feed everyone else as well. Rhodey and Happy would often join you for dinner, and even Vision would occasionally keep you company (even though you were yet to see him actually eat anything), but Tony never did. Still, every night you filled the Tupperware you’d labelled with his name and set it in the fridge, and it was always empty and in the sink by lunch time the next day. Even if all you’d made was pasta and sauce from a jar or scrambled eggs.

You weren’t actively trying to take care of Tony; you knew it would only insult him if you tried. But he was letting you have free run of a high-tech, million-dollar facility that came complete with an entertainment center, indoor pool and a state-of-the-art gym, and you didn’t even have to pay rent. The least you could do was leave him leftover sausages and mashed potatoes.

So, after weeks of little communication with a man who seemed like a shell of his former self, it was surprising to say the least when he’d come strolling in while you were watching a movie and flopped onto the couch beside you with a sigh, his head falling to rest in your lap. His eyes had gone straight to the screen in front of you, and he hadn’t looked up at you yet.

“So, what are we watching?”

You smirked at the collective; you hadn’t planned on having company, but you weren’t going to complain now that you did. You liked Tony a lot; he was witty, clever and easy to talk to even if you hadn’t spent much time with him in the past, aside from missions. You’d mentioned one night to Vision that you were worried that you were imposing and that was why he wasn’t around, but he’d assured you that Tony was happy you were there. He’d even suggested that your shared stance on the Accords and your standing alongside him against your friends had endeared you to him considerably.

“You should know, it’s your movie collection,” you pointed out, letting your question drop. You weren’t going to get a straight answer as to why you were being used as a cushion, and you didn’t really have an issue with it. He was warm and comfortable, and his easy demeanor relaxed you. The others were friendly enough, but Happy and Rhodey both tended to treat you like a kid, even if they didn’t mean to. “How’s the lab work going?”

“It’s boring.” He shrugged, his shoulders bumping gently against your thigh. “How’s the study?”

“I’m all studied out, to be honest.”

“Excellent.”

“How is that excellent, exactly?”

He smiled, eyes still on the television. “Means you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You snickered, shaking your head. “And how do you know I don’t just want to be alone right now?”

He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, meeting your eyes with his chocolate-brown ones, his lips curved in one of his patented, self-satisfied smirks. “Because about two minutes ago you started playing with my hair.”

Your eyes flickered to your hand in surprise; your fingers were curled in his dark locks and you had absolutely no idea why you’d started doing it. You withdrew your hand quickly.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Y/N,” he teased, poking you in the belly with his finger. “You’re not alone. The Iron Man fan site lists my hair as my fourth most attractive feature.”

“Only you would spend time on your own fan site,” you snarked. “What are the other three?”

“Smile. Ass. Goatee.” He counted them out on his fingers proudly, and you scoffed. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted to see what everyone thinks of the mighty Barricade?”

“I’m a girl who had, upon occasion, walked down the street in downtown New York. I hear that a lot.” You replied drily. “And don’t get all excited, Tone. I wasn’t even thinking about your hair.”

“Then what were you thinking about? The other three?”

Snickering, you poked his temple lightly. “Nah. Maybe I just wish I had a cat.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you put your hand back in my hair and I’ll buy you a hundred of them.”

You scoffed at that, but you relented as you looked down at him. After weeks of seeing Tony tired and withdrawn, it was nice to see him looking so relaxed and to have a part in that. You slid your fingers back through his hair, ruffling it as your fingertips grazed gently against his scalp. It was surprisingly soft against your skin – no doubt thanks to whatever overly expensive products he used – and you took up a soothing rhythm as you returned your attention to the movie.

Your free hand dithered for a moment, unsure of where to rest, and he rolled his eyes and grabbed it, pulling it down to rest on his chest. You could feel the faint line of the scar left behind by the arc reactor under his t-shirt. He sighed contentedly, settling back into your lap more comfortably. You shook your head in amusement. “You are so weird, Tone.”

“Shhh,” he hushed you teasingly. “I’m watching a movie.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

“Which makes it so much harder to understand what’s happening when I can’t hear it.” He broke out in a grin as you laughed. You fell into comfortable silence for a while, fingers still massaging idly away at his scalp.

“Tony?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

He shrugged again. “Not a problem. Room was set up for you when this place was built.”

“I know, FRIDAY told me,” you replied. You’d been uncomfortable with the idea of moving into one of the other member’s rooms, but the AI had assured you that yours was designed specifically for you, and that the others’ rooms were all closed off by Tony once he’d gotten back from Siberia. “I meant… just… thanks.”

His lip curled in the hint of another smile. “It’s fine. I’ve been enjoying the foray into student food.”

You smacked his chest lightly, and he laughed.

“…Tony?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “What happened in Siberia?”

Tony stiffened against you, and exhaled. He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should get back to work.”

“Tone, I—”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

He walked out without looking at you, leaving a hollow feeling in your chest.

****************************************************************************************************

You smirked to yourself as you glanced up from your work, not turning around from the desk. “Can I help you with something, Tony?”

“How’d you know I was here?”

Your smile widened as you returned your eyes to your textbook. “I can see your reflection in the computer screen.”

“Very sneaky, kid. Romanoff would be proud.”

‘Later’ had turned out to be while you were preparing dinner two days after your conversation on the couch. Tony had come wandering in and offered a wine pairing for the curry you were cooking. To your surprise, he’d joined you and Rhodey that night, and almost every night since, even when Rhodey and Happy had other plans. On those nights, the two of you would find some terrible movie or painful reality show to make fun of, and would sit there long after your plates were empty. He even helped you with clean-up, and you had to admit, there was something endearing about seeing billionaire Tony Stark with soapy hands or packing a dishwasher.

He tilted his head to the side. “You know, I always thought ‘studying’ was a euphemism. No one actually studies this much.”

“Not all of us are in the genius class,” you replied. You spun your chair around, eyebrow raised in amusement. “What did you think I was doing?”

“Is it wrong to say it was something blush-worthy?” he grinned teasingly, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Why, Tony Stark, I do declare!” you said, affecting a Southern accent and fanning yourself with your hand. You were used to seeing Tony flirt, even occasionally with you, and you knew not to take him seriously. He chuckled, sauntering across the carpet to your side. You turned back to the desk and he leaned over your shoulder, one hand braced on the armrest, the other resting on the back of the chair.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” you aid, returning dutifully to your book. “Although I’m kind of scared to ask what you’ve been imagining it is.”

“You should try living a little dangerously, then, Y/N.” he replied softly, and you felt his warm breath fan against your neck.

“We’re Avengers, Tone. We already do.” You watched the reflection of his jaw tense for a moment, and you sighed. “Or we did, at least.”

Tony pulled the book out of your hands and tossed it on the floor behind him.

“Hey!”

He caught the chair by the armrests as you turned, caging you in and leaning over you. You were a little taken aback by how close his face was to yours, so you gave up and leaned back in the chair again. “You need a break.”

You sighed, “Tony, if you’re hungry, just say so. But I was just—”

“I am capable of feeding myself, you know.” He told you, smirk on his lips and shining in his eyes. “And you’re not cooking tonight.”

“I’m not?”

“Like I said, you need a break.”

“That’s what the girls at the dorms used to say when they were trying to convince me to come out and either get blind drunk or laid,” you said drily.

Mischief sparkled in the look he gave you. “Did it work?”

“For the first part? Sure, I’m not an animal.” You replied nonchalantly, and he laughed. Your tone turned a little coy as you continued. Always best to keep Stark on his toes. “Getting laid? I didn’t really need their help.”

He snorted at that, and you stuck your tongue out at him petulantly.

“So, what am I doing tonight, then, Astro Boy?”

“’Astro Boy’?”

You shrugged, folding your arms across your chest. “Metal, rocket boots, hero-type. Seemed like a fair comparison.”

“Huh. Fair enough.”

“You gonna answer my question?”

“Nope. Now, get your ass up, Y/N. Dinner will be here in ten minutes.”

****************************************************************************************************

“So, it turns out you’re actually a sorority girl, after all,” you mocked, holding up your half-gone drink in a toast. Tony tapped his glass against yours, and you both tossed them back easily. His idea of a break had turned out to be another night on the couch, this time with a sinful amount of food and a pitcher of apple martinis waiting for you. You were already halfway through it, a happy buzz settling in your brain. Instead of the usual bad T.V. he had music playing when you’d walked into the entertainment center; the low sounds of classic rock providing the soundtrack for your evening.

“Oh, please tell me you were in a sorority,” he shot back, leaning forward to refill both your glasses. You were sitting side by side on the couch, shoulders barely brushing. His legs were loosely crossed, his knee resting on yours. Your fingers brushed against his as you accepted your glass from him again. “The idea of you wearing a cute little sorority sweater over your mission outfit is just too good.”

“God, no.” you scoffed, stealing the last bite of his potato gratin with your fork. His mouth dropped open in mock-offence, and you grinned at him as you popped it into your mouth. “You really didn’t have to order so much, Tony.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t sure what you felt like. Besides, the chef at Le Cirque is a friend of mine.”

“Le Cirque? Now I feel way underdressed,” you joked, gesturing at your jean shorts and your oversized sweater. “Seriously, Tony, that place is so expensive. I would have been happy with P.F. Chang’s.”

“You take another bite of that lobster risotto and tell me that.”

“I can’t.” you admitted, pursing your lips to hide your smile. “I finished it already.”

“Dessert, then?” he offered enticingly, finishing his drink. You followed suit. “There’s crème brulee in the fridge.”

“Mr. Stark, you spoil me,” you replied, grabbing his knee to stop him from rising. “Uh-uh. You stay. I’ll get it.”

Standing quickly before he could object, you swayed slightly when the alcohol rushed to your head. You felt Tony’s hands on your waist, steadying you, and amusement colored his voice when he spoke. “Easy there, sweetheart. I got you.”

Your hands covered his for a moment as you regained your balance, and you felt them ghost briefly down your thighs as he released you, letting you step away. Goosebumps erupted along your bare skin in their wake.

“Want me to make another pitcher?” he called out as you dug spoons out of the drawer, pouring the last of the cocktail into your glasses.

“Nah,” you replied, handing him his dessert and sitting back down. You slung your legs across his lap, back resting against the armrest, and smiled back at him when he looked at you with a mix of amusement and surprise. You held up a bottle of scotch you’d snagged from the bar. “Got you covered.”

***

You hummed happily, throwing back another mouthful of scotch. It was incredibly smooth, barely burning as it hit your tongue. Between the two of you, you were halfway through the bottle, dessert long finished. You tilted your head to the side. “I like this song.”

“Yeah?” Your legs were still thrown over his lap, and his hand slid up your calf at a glacial pace, his eyes following it as if he was committing your skin to memory. You weren’t entirely sure when he’d started doing it, but it felt nice, the warmth and surprising softness of his palm soothing you.

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a lazy smile. His hand reached your knee, and it slowly made its way back down again. “You like it too, right? You play it a lot. I hear it from my room.”

“You’re one of the few people who haven’t complained about that,” he said wryly, eyes still on his hand.

“I like being able to hear your music,” you admitted with a shrug. “Let’s me know you’re around.”

Tony smiled at you, accepting the bottle when you tilted it towards him. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he took a sip, and you felt a shiver settle in the small of your back.

“I like having you around, too.” He passed it back, his fingertips grazing over your knee to the bottom of your thigh and back down again. “Makes this place a little more lively.”

“Do you miss the others?” you asked before you could think it through, and you bit your lip. He exhaled shakily, bowing his head. You leaned forwards, hands on your knees. His fingertips brushed against yours the next time he reached the top of your calf. “Tony, it’s okay to miss them. I do.”

“It’s not that easy…”

You frowned, hesitating. His hand froze on your leg, and your scooted closer to his side, your knees bending. “Tony? What happened in Siberia?” He groaned, his other hand running through his hair. When he didn’t speak, you tried again, your voice almost a whisper. “Tony, please?”

“He killed them.” He said, his voice thick. He was staring at some invisible point on the wall, and the hollow look you kept catching when you’d pas him in the hall late at night was in his eyes again. “Buc—” he shook his head. “The Winter Soldier killed my parents.”

“Oh my God…” you murmured, stricken. “Did… did Steve…”

“Rogers knew.” His voice hardened to almost a growl. “Rogers knew the whole goddamn time.”

“Tony—”

“He fucking knew it, Y/N.” Tony turned to you, and there was a kind of heartbroken desperation in his eyes. Tears burned in them, and you felt them begin to well up in your own. “My dad loved him, thought he was a hero. And all this time Rogers fucking knew what he did. He slept in my house and worked on my team and he let me call him a friend and this whole time he knew what happened… he knew what that piece of shit did to them.”

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” you could feel the tears building in your throat. Your hand closed around his, and he squeezed it back so tightly it hurt. “I’m so, so, sorry…”

“I don’t know who I can trust anymore, Y/N.” he whispered, and those words broke your heart.

You cupped his cheek with your free hand, turning him to face you again. The hand not clasped around yours squeezed your calf, as if he was trying to anchor you to him. His gaze met yours, and you brushed your thumb against his cheek, wiping away an escaped tear. “You can trust me, Tony. I promise. You can trust me.”

His gaze bore into yours for what felt like forever, burning into you to the point where you almost felt like you had to turn away. But you didn’t, staring back at him with fierce earnest in your eyes, your hand gripping his own. The hand on your leg moved again, and you could feel it shaking slightly as it rose up your leg and to your hip; your sweater rose with it, and your breath caught slightly as his fingertips brushed against the bare skin of your waist.

“Y/N…” he murmured, and there was something anxious in his voice, different from before. Something that made you bite your lip and slide the hand on his cheek around to rest on his neck, your thumb brushing against his ear.

“You can trust me, Tony.”

The hand on your waist pulled you towards him, and he closed what little distance between you was left, his lips meeting yours in a fierce kiss. You gasped against his mouth, surprised, but found yourself gripping at the hair at the nape of his neck and answering in kind. His hand tightened on your waist; the other one releasing your hand to glide up your arm and tangle in your hair, his grip on it flirting with the edge of painful. Your hands moved to his chest, twisting in the fabric of his t-shirt, tugging him closer.

His lips were soft despite the aggression in his kiss, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip. You felt his tongue swipe against it, and you parted your lips, meeting it with your own with a whimper. His forehead rested against yours when he broke away to catch his breath, his hand still in your hair, and you slid your arms from his chest to wrap around his neck, suddenly desperate for his touch.

You hadn’t imagined your night to go this way – you hadn’t even fully admitted your attraction to Tony to yourself, but now you felt like you could drown in it.

You encouraged him to kiss you again, and you felt his hand brush against the side of your throat and down your side, whispering past the curve of your breast and down your ribs to rest on your hip, mirroring his other one. Your surprised squeal was muffled by his mouth as he lifted you and stood unexpectedly easily, gripping the bare flesh of your thighs and guiding your legs around his waist.

You felt your back meet the wall of the hallway as he carried you god knows where, and you gasped again once you felt his lips press roughly just below the angle of your jaw. Your fingers tensed on his shoulders, and you braced yourself against them to press yourself against his crotch. He groaned at the sensation, his teeth scraping against your throat, and then his lips found yours again, somehow more eager than before.

Your hand ran through his hair, disheveling it, and you giggled against his lips as he kicked open the door to his room, crossed the floor and dropped you on the bed. You felt your belly tighten as he stood over you, his eyes dark, his expression almost possessive. There was no smart-ass smirk or self-satisfied quip, just an aura of desperate need that rolled over you like a wave and made your thighs clench. You pushed yourself up the bed until you reached the pillows, legs parting slightly in invitation.

Tony pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, and unfastened his jeans, and you wet your lips as he crawled up the bed towards you. He paused long enough to push your sweater up slightly and press a kiss to your hip in a surprisingly affectionate moment before his lips were on yours again and he was running a hand over your thigh.

You broke away long enough to remove your sweater, desperate to feel his skin against your own, and you were immediately rewarded when his hand moved from your thigh to grip your waist, pinning you to the mattress. His lips moved over your neck in a teasing combination of teeth and tongue to your collarbone and then to your breast, sucking at the skin at the edge of your bra. He answered your moan with one of his own, and you struggled to unclip it. His mouth found your nipple as soon as the lace was pushed away, teeth grazing against the hardening point. Everything was rough and almost careless, and you reveled in the feeling of Tony’s hold on you.

He repeated the actions on your other breast until you were breathless, and he kissed your sternum before sitting back and tugging your shorts and underwear down your legs. You kicked them off, squeaking as Tony’s hands pushed your thighs roughly apart. His body covered yours again as you felt his hand ghost over your folds, and you pushed awkwardly at the waistband of his jeans, urging them down his thighs. He pushed them off, fingers teasing over your clit for a moment before you felt him push his cock into you, all the way to the hilt.

You gasped at the sensation, clinging to his shoulders, and he gave you both a moment to adjust, his forehead resting on your shoulder, and his breathing heavy. You wrapped your legs around him and urged him closer, and his lips found yours again as his hips took up an almost punishing pace. The room filled with the sounds of your hips meeting, your breathy moans and his muttered curses; your name fell from his lips and you moved your hips to meet his, encouraging him to say it again.

“Oh, fuck… Tony…” you moaned as your head fell back, and his lips found your neck again. He felt so good, that coil in your belly ever-tightening as he filled you. One of his hands gripped at your breast, and your nails scored against his shoulders, making him hiss. “Fuck…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. He angled his hips until you keened, brushing against that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. You leaned up to kiss his neck, scoring his throat with open-mouthed kisses. You felt him shiver against you as you ran your tongue over the shell of his ear, and you caught his earlobe between your teeth, drunk on the sound of his moan. “I got you…”

His fingers ghosted over your belly down to rub circles over your clit, and you felt yourself tighten around him. Your hand clamped over his, holding it in place and he increased the pressure obediently; your eyes rolled back, your thighs shaking. “Oh, God, Tony, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear, his teeth teasing the shell of it. “Fucking come for me.”

The coil broke in you and you came with an almost pornographic moan of his name, drawing his lips back to yours for a kiss. He followed you soon after as you clenched around him, groaning against your lips as he spilled himself inside you. You slowly unwrapped your legs from his waist and he fell against you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his hands on your hips. He touched a gentle kiss to the side of your throat before rolling off you, and you clenched your thighs at the empty feeling between them.

You looked over at him as you felt his hand take yours, and he intertwined your fingers, bringing them up to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Come here.”

He tugged you over to him, and you curled into his side, letting his arm settle around you to rest his hand on your hip. You slid a leg over his, your hand alighting on his chest. He covered it with his own.

“…Guess you really are just like the girls I go to school with,” you said, and smiled as he rewarded you with a quiet laugh. You ran your fingers over the scar left behind by the arc reactor carefully.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” his voice was a whisper, an echo of his confession earlier. I don’t know who I can trust anymore.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me, Tone,” you replied, tugging the blankets up over the both of you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He gave a soft sigh of contentment, tangling his fingers with yours on his chest. You closed your eyes and listened to his heart, feeling his lips press softly against your hair.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @kileybird @sebbystanlover-vk @moistpotatobear @pelicanbelly @dannydevitodevoted @tonystarkxreader @wittyforachange @eurusholmmes @writing-journeyx @capsironunderoos

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years

Text

Fic: A Time for Family

Summary: It’s the annual Lab Nights ‘verse Christmas fic! At some point I will have to stop writing these but this year is not that year. You can read previous years’ instalments here.

The Gold family gather for Christmas alongside all their friends from the hospital, and welcome Emma into their celebrations for the first time. Set four years after last year’s fic, with bonus Sea Devil and Swanfire!

As a reminder, this AU is set in the UK.

Rated: G

=====

A Time for Family

“So, tell me again who’s going to be at this Christmas party? I don’t want to get confused.”

Bae racked his brains to remember. It was the first time in several years that none of the extended hospital family were working on Christmas Day, and to celebrate such a momentous occasion, Aunt Elvira had decided to host a huge Christmas dinner, with everyone invited.

“My dad and step-mum, my half-sister, my great-aunt, my godmother and her girlfriend, my dad’s best friend and her girlfriend, and the cat. Oh, and you and me, of course.” He paused. “It’s not too late to back out if you want to. I’m sure that somewhere will be open and we can get a last-minute turkey. Or Chinese.”

Emma shook her head, the antlers on her headband waving wildly as she put her coat on. “No way. I’m looking forward to a traditional family Christmas.”

“It’s not exactly traditional. I’m fairly sure that most families don’t have quite so many unrelated lesbians around the table. Dad and I are going to be completely outnumbered by women. Even the cat’s a girl!”

Emma gave a snort of laughter and kissed his cheek before they stepped out into the biting cold December air. It was his fourth Christmas in a committed relationship with Emma, and their second Christmas of living together. Knowing that Emma had no family of her own to spend the holidays with, they’d spent last year alone together, celebrating finding an apartment that they didn’t have to share with roommates. This year, though, Emma had wanted to accept Aunt Elvira’s invitation and experience a large family Christmas, since the Golds had more or less adopted her with open arms as one of their own – especially Elvira, who was never happier than when she had someone else to cook for.

“So, they all work in medicine?” she asked.

“Yes. Well, Ursula’s a marine veterinarian so I’m not sure she counts. And Rosie’s only just started school. And the cat, obviously. We’ve got two nurses, one retired nurse, two pathologists and an NHS financial manager.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “How the hell did you end up becoming an architect?”

“Belle, sweetheart, there’s really no need to be nervous.”

Belle did not stop her pacing up and down the dining room, occasionally twitching a napkin or adjusting a place setting, and Rum sighed.

“Look, you’ve met Emma plenty of times before, it’s not like you have to make a good first impression.”

“I know, but this is different.”

“How?”

“This is Emma’s first big family Christmas, and it’s got to be perfect.”

“Belle, if there’s one thing that I’ve learned during my time on this earth, it’s that there is no such thing as a perfect Christmas. The sooner you accept that, the easier today is going to be. Something is bound to go wrong, but that’s all part of Christmas, and no-one will mind, and everyone will have a good laugh about it.”

Belle finally came to a stop, her shoulders slumping. Rum came over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said. “I promise. There is no perfect family Christmas. There’s only our family Christmas, which in its very nature will be perfect. Now, I think I can hear Ella and Ursula arguing in the driveway, so let’s go and let them in, and check that Rosie hasn’t accidentally poisoned us all in her efforts to help Aunt Elvira make the Christmas dinner.”

They left the dining room, where they had escaped to for a few minutes’ peace and quiet after the chaos of Rosie opening her first few Christmas presents and before the guests arrived for lunch. It was time for Christmas to really begin.

“You can’t be serious. Eggnog is the most disgusting concoction ever to be concocted and you want to make it even worse by adding gin?”

“Gin improves everything, darling.” Ella checked her make-up in her compact mirror as she waited for the door to be opened, paying no attention to her partner’s despairing looks.

Ursula sniffed. “It’s a waste of perfectly good gin if you ask me.”

“Well, you’re designated driver for today, so you don’t have to worry, do you?” Ella smiled sweetly and Ursula rolled her eyes. Thankfully, at that moment the door opened. There was a bit of a kerfuffle when it came to actually getting through the door and into the house, because Rosie had bene the one to greet their guests and she’d had to get a step-stool in order to reach the latch; in the end Belle had to rush to the rescue to prevent the hallway turning into an obstacle course.

“Hello ladies,” she said eventually, once everyone was inside and divesting themselves of coats. “Can I get you a drink to warm you up?”

Ella grinned broadly at the prospect. “Is there any possibility of a G&T?”

Belle gave her a look. “Aunt Elvira lives here. We are always plentifully supplied with G&T.”

They made their way into the dining room and Belle set about mixing drinks. Just as everyone had a glass in their hand and they were about to raise a toast, the doorbell went again and Regina and Mal were welcomed into the fray.

Sipping her gin, after exchanging greetings of the season with the newcomers, Ella wondered just how they had all ended up becoming such good friends. They’d all been working at the same hospital together for longer than Ella cared to remember, but she’d never really known how they’d managed to find each other and stay so close. Mal and Gold obviously worked in the same department, and Ella and Mal had dated briefly once upon a time before deciding that they were better off as friends, and now they were one big happy family.

Rosie was darting in and out of the adults’ legs, as excited as any self-respecting four-year-old ought to be on Christmas Day, and after the third time she’d scrambled up onto the window seat and tweaked back the voile modesty curtains, Ella realised that she was looking out for Bae and Emma.

Ursula caught the direction that she was looking in and gave her a stern look.

“You’re not going to embarrass Emma,” she warned.

“I entertained no thoughts of doing anything of the sort!” Ella exclaimed with mock hurt. Although, that said, she was probably going to have to tone down her sense of humour a bit. It was all right when it was just the hospital family group – everyone was used to each other’s ribbing and everyone had been on the receiving end of Ella’s wicked tongue more than once. She knew that once they all got together, they could be lethal to the outsider. She remembered Belle’s reaction the first time that she’d been in a room with Gold, Ella, Ursula, Regina and Mal, and she really didn’t want to sabotage what was likely Bae’s future marriage because she couldn’t keep her double entendres under wraps for one evening.

“Bae’s here!” Rosie squealed as a taxi pulled up outside the house, and she rushed off to gather the step stool and let her beloved older brother into the house.

“Excellent, everyone’s here now.” Elvira bustled into the dining room, waving her tea towel. “The turkey was about to be overdone.”

Bae and Emma were shown into the room with enthusiastic fanfare from Rosie, and through no fault of her own, Ella found herself being seconded into helping Belle and Elvira carry dishes of food through from the kitchen to the dining room. Ella’s stomach was growling just from the smell of it. She’d known for years that Aunt Elvira was a fantastic cook, back from the very first time that she’d sampled her Christmas cake when Gold had smuggled some into the hospital.

Everything made it to the table in one piece, despite Elvira almost tripping over Patches the cat, who was hanging around in the doorway hoping that the turkey would fall off its tray and she could have the entire thing to herself. At last, everyone was seated, steam rising off the dishes.

In her customary place at the head of the table, the matriarch of their extended and unconventional family, Elvira paused with the carving knife and fork in her hands, ready to plunge them into the ridiculously large turkey with all the precision of the surgeons.

“Before we begin, I want to say a couple of words,” she said. “It’s so rare for everyone to be here, together, at Christmas time. I want to say welcome to Emma, and I hope you enjoy what will, hopefully, be the first of many Christmases to come here. We’ve all been through so much in the time that we’ve known each other, but as long as I see you all around my table at Christmas, I know that everything that’s happened has been worth it to bring us all together. So, Nollaig Chridheil to you all, and let’s eat.”

“Nollaig Chridheil,” Gold echoed. Ella didn’t even try; she’d mangled Gaelic enough times during her friendship with Gold that she knew not to attempt it on a stomach empty of anything except gin. She remembered a New Year’s Eve in the pathology department, her and Gold and Mal sitting in the break room drinking non-alcoholic eggnog and singing Auld Lang Syne. She was never usually one for being sentimental, but the memory always made her smile. Elvira was right. They’d known each other for so long and seen so much, and the addition of Christmas cheer always made everything better.

The evening was drawing to a close. It had been a riotous afternoon of present-opening, but ultimately, it had been a success. Rosie was already in bed, sound asleep, the adrenaline kick of Christmas finally worn off. Regina and Mal had departed, ready for Mal to start work at half past six in the morning, and the living room was feeling like slightly less of a squeeze. Even though there were spare seats now, Belle was still sitting on Rum’s lap. She liked it there, he had a very comfortable lap, and he had made no indication that he wanted her to move.

Belle glanced over at Emma and Bae. Although she had gone out of her way to try and make Emma feel welcome and part of the family – at this stage Emma was part of the family, whether she realised it or not – Belle had been worried that she’d feel left out in amongst all the in-jokes between the people who had known each other for a lot longer. Ella had managed to mostly behave herself, and luckily all Elvira’s scandalous tales of Christmases gone by had involved making fun of Rum for the drunken exploits he’d gotten up to whilst he was still a medical student.

Emma gave as good as she got, though, and if her grin was anything to go by, then she seemed to be enjoying herself. She hadn’t taken off her antlers all day, which had made her a huge hit with Rosie who then needed to be firmly persuaded to take off her own in order to go to bed.

Soon enough, though, it was time for Bae and Emma to take their leave. Belle was on the verge of asking them to stay, they had a spare room after all, but she appreciated that they were bright young things and they needed their own space and some time to themselves after a day spent around older friends and relatives who were trying and occasionally failing to be on their best behaviour in front of the newbie.

Belle and Rum escorted them to the door as their taxi pulled up.

“I hope you had a good time,” she said to Emma. “I know that Ella and Mal and Rum can be a bit much when you get them all in the same room together.”

“Oh no, it was brilliant. Thanks so much for inviting me. And thank Aunt Elvira for the food as well, it was amazing.” She smiled. “I’ve gone from having no family to having more family than I know what to do with, and whilst it’s going to take a bit of getting used to, I’d rather have it this way.”

“You’re always very welcome for Christmas. Or any other time of year, of course.”

“Thanks, Belle.”

They said their goodbyes, and Belle gave a happy little sigh as they shut the door on the cold winter’s night and she leaned back against it.

“See, that wasn’t so nerve-wracking, was it?” Rum asked lightly. There was a little smirk at the corner of his mouth, and Belle raised an eyebrow.

“No, it wasn’t.” She paused. “You know, we should probably go back into the living room. We have guests after all.”

“I’m sure that Ella and Ursula can entertain themselves for a little while.” Rum leaned on the door, penning her in with his arms, and Belle hooked her own around his neck. “I mean, with all our visitors and with Rosie waking us up at the crack of dawn to open her presents, we’ve barely had a moment to ourselves all day.”

Belle grinned and leaned in for a kiss. Rum tasted of whisky and Christmas pudding, and she remembered the very first time that she had kissed him, eight years ago today in this very hallway. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was still so very fresh in her mind, and she still felt the same thrill.

“Ahem.”

A cough from the living room doorway had them breaking apart like guilty teenagers, which had also happened the first time that they’d kissed. Elvira was standing there, arms folded, looking stern but with that twinkle in her eye that betrayed her true feelings.

“Young love,” she muttered. “Bae and Emma I’d understand, but you two are supposed to be sedate and responsible, not necking in the hallway.”

“Aunt Elvira, if the tales you were telling of my college days were anything to go by, then you’ll know full well that I have never been sedate and responsible,” Rum retorted.

“Well, that’s true. Are you coming back in here or not?”

Rum looked at Belle grinned, and shook his head.

“Not just yet, Aunt Elvira.”

She rolled her eyes and went back into the living room, closing the door firmly behind her. Belle giggled and pulled her husband in for another kiss.

God, she loved this family.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #festive fic #fluff #Lab Nights and Christmas Lights #bonus swanfire #bonus sea devil #Aunt Elvira being her usual self

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sabraeal · 6 years

Note

#51 sounds really cute! :D

#51: things you said as we danced in our socks

Set a few weeks before graduation

Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Horns rattle from the tinny speaker, and thebriefest bass guitar, before abruptly cutting off. Shirayuki frowns as shescoops up her phone, flicking the screen on – that clip is so unsatisfying, she reallyneeds to fix it –

r u done?im doneim dooooooonnnnne

She glances up from the mixer whirring away, catching the bookbagslumped against the wall of the vestibule, abandoned the moment she walkedthrough the door.

I just got backObi still has one more though

ugh ofctell him hes an overachiever and he should b ashamed

(He’s been sitting like that for almost fifteen minute,pointer hovering over Add Class, hisdesignated selection time bleeding out, only fifteen more before the juniorsgets to start picking their classes too –

“I shouldn’t bother,” he says, toneless. “You have to applyfor it.”

She tucks into his side, laying her head on his shoulder. “Sodoes everyone else. You have just as good a chance as anyone.”

“You’re not doing it.”

She blinks, tilting her head up. “I’m not the one interestedin informatics.”

“It’ll be over my credit load,” he tries instead. “I’d need permissionfrom the dean –”

She tweaks his elbow, just hard enough to make him squirm. “Good thinghe’ll be your graduate advisor.”

It takes a bit for him to blush – or at least for her to see it – but there’s pink just under bronze on his ears, and that’s enough. “That’s not – that’sonly if Admissions all goes temporarily batshit and lets me in.”

His chest shakes, breath coming quick, and she slides her hand down,covering his. “You should do it,” she says, studiedly casual. “What’s the worstthat can happen? They say no?”

His breath steadies, but not easily. “Right. Yeah.”

The click is less than a second. “Fuck ‘em, right?”)

i don’t think i’ll tell him that

FINELAMEsuzus been done since yesterday bcuz hes a slackerwhen obi is done we should celebratelike unreal amts of booze celebrate

It’s – it’s not that her heart pounds, it’s just – quiet,now that the mixer is off. Everything is more – noticeable. Now that she – she’s –

She’s thinking about the last time they got drunk at Yuzuri’sbehest, looming over them as she poured more and more shots, tellingthem it’s a celebration, everyone has todrink –

– I don’t think you’dbe so hard to figure out, darlin’. Obi’s drawl is liquid in her memory,pouring over her like honey. Just have toknow where to touch –

uh sureI guess?

u guess?is there some sort of problem?

She thinks of Obi, chest heaving,slack-jawed, eyes wide – if I capsize inyour thighs, high tide – of what he’dlook like with swollen lips, panting down her body, spreading her legs –

Ugh. She shakes her head. Thewhole thing is just – just – a pop-up she can’t shake, an ad that keepsplaying over her day at odd intervals, only instead of it being for somethinglike experimental allergy medication or Cialis, it’s for Obi, like she suddenly needs to be reminded every few minutes thathe’s attractive and also experienced, like maybe she should consider –

no!everything is fine!

It will pass. It always does.

…whatever the ideas r percolating ill let u know what we decide but like def booze

This isn’t – it isn’t a problem. Everything is fine – very fine, the most fine.

All her papers are written, revised, and already sitting in drop-boxes, her only final is a multiple choice test about European History, most of which she learned just from living with Kiki for a year. If anything, she is set, living her best life –

“God.”

Her whole body flushes, toe-tip to hairline, and she’s so busy trying not to think of skin under her lips, of hearing that in an entirely new context, that she nearly misses the slam of the door.

Obi tilts a long-suffering look toward her as he leans against the wall, toeing his shoes into the tray. “I’m glad that’s fucking done.”

There isn’t a problem, because whatever this is, it’s just a phase. Something that will definitely pass.

It just never takes this long.

“Did your test go well?” she asks, clearing her throat, like it might expel the images her mind is supplying as he saunters around the corner, shirt already pulling up taut torso, sun-bronzed abs on display.

“Hope so,” he sighs, balling his T-shirt up in his hand. “Otherwise Lata’s going to give me a few more of these for putting off our action plan.”

It takes her a whole minute to realize what he’s pointing at, to see the thick silver sprawl of scars across his back and not the way his muscles ripple beneath the skin, the way his shoulder blades make his whole back look like an anatomy model.

She frowns. “Professor Forenzo would never –”

“I know, I know,” he says, waving a hand at her as he crosses into his room. “Gimme a minute, I gotta get out of these clothes. It’s killer out there.”

“Right,” she replies, faint, definitely not noticing the way his hands settle on his waistband, definitely not thinking about his skin shining with sweat –

She doesn’t have a problem, it’s just – just that she hasn’t figured out a way to get him back, to close out this prank so she can – can stop thinking about that stupid song, and capsizing on thighs and what it might feel like if he –

plans decidedwe gonna go C L U B B I N G

Shirayuki’s teeth grit down, her hands bracing against the counter. This is fine. They’ve gone before, a nice little place above a bar in downtown Wilant; it’d been all 80s songs and they’d all had a little more than they’d bargain for, and Obi –

– you’re a squeezing hips, neck-kissing girl, aren’t you, darlin’? –

Ah, maybe she…shouldn’t think about that. He didn’t even remember it in the morning.

“You all right, Doc?”

She jolts, watching Obi settle on the couch, bare feet kicked up on the coffee table, arms sprawled out over the back, remote in hand. Her hands tighten on the counter, trying to ground herself, trying not to have her knees go weak as she traces the delicate bones in his feet, the strain of his t-shirt over his biceps –

if obi gives u shit tell him its obligatorythis is the price of fucking friendship okay

“You might not want to get too c-comfortable,” she stammers, stacking cookies, trying to look like she’s doing something in the kitchen, and not just – ogling him. “Yuzuri says we need to go out and celebrate.”

His head turns toward her, just slightly. “Celebrate what?”

“Being done with, you know…school.” It sounds weak, even to her own ears, and the grunt that comes from him tells her he agrees.

“We’re all going to grad school,” he huffs out. “We’re not going to be done with school for the next decade, if Lata has anything to say about it.”

“Well, it’s the end of undergrad,” she presses, feeling flushed. “And the end of our thesis work –”

“And just what is this version of celebrating going to entail?” he asks with a sigh. “I already have my sweat pants on.”

I’ve noticed is not the right thing to say. Neither is dumbly standing there, thinking how good he makes them look. “Yuzuri says we’re going clubbing.”

“Oh, no,” he says, firm. “No. I don’t dance.”

“She wants me to tell you it’s a non-optional social convention.”

“Is that how she’s getting Suzu to go?”

“Probably.” Her shoulders twitch in a shrug. “You know how she feels about this sort of thing.”

His eyebrows lift. “That there’s no better way to celebrated scientific achievement than to get trashed and grind on strangers?”

“Yes.” Not quit how she would have put it. “That.”

His look turns incredulous. “And you went for that?”

“It’s what she wants to do,” Shirayuki insists, because – because it’s not like she cares. It’s not like she’s thinking about the way he was dancing with anyone who showed interest the last time, wondering if he might –“She’s been here longer. Maybe this is the best way to celebrate. When in Rome, you know?”

“That is the exactopposite of an attitude you should have in Florida. Never do what people inFlorida do.” He rolls his head along the back of the couch to give her a flatlook. “It’s like you’ve never seenthe internet.”

She returns itwith a look of equal flatness. “We made it so the Olin maris can be bred in captivity. We’ve saved an entire species.We can spend one night doing what Yuzuri wants to do.”

“Yuzuri wants toget sloppy drunk and see if she can get Suzu to breed in captivity.”

“And we should support that.” She sighs at his incredulous look, padding out to put the plate of cookies in front of him. “Besides, I’ve seen you dance. You seemed – fine.”

That is definitely a word. That she can use. Safely.

“We danced at a gala,” he protests, “I wore a suit. Youstepped on my feet. That is not this. This is – swampy club dancing. It’s acircle of hell, not an activity.”

She refrains from mentioning the other time; she doesn’t think he’d appreciate remembering just how good he dances drunk to Come On Eileen, no matter how impressive it was.

“I think you just need to get excited.” She’s too used to his stare to shrivel under it. “You know, uh – get pumped.”

“Are you evenplanning on drinking?”

She grimaces.“No.”

“That is such awaste, you can’t even drive.”

She frowns. “Ihave my license now.”

He gives her apointed look. “You can’t even drive.”

She stares at himfor what must be a full minute before it hits her, grin breaking out across her face. “I have just thething to get you in the mood.”

“Aw, c’mon,” hemoans as she pulls him upright. “I’ve got so many Cutthroat Kitchens to watch. On this one, theycook spaghetti and meatballs and someone takes some lady’s garlic.”

“Look, you alreadyknow what happens!” She grins at him. “So now you can do my thing instead.”

He grimaces when she pulls out her phone, when he sees her bring up her music library, pleading, “No, don’t –”

“Why do you build me up –”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he mumbles over the tinny piano. “Do you know what kind of music they play in clubs?”

“–Buttercup, baby–”

“This is to pump you up!” she tells him, trying to guide him into a bobbing two-step, one he follows with the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows. “Get your blood flowing!”

“Oh my god,” he sighs. “Of course. This is your pump up music. Motown.”

“It’s uplifting.”

“You listen to Angel of the Morning when you get up, don’t you?”

Her mouth pulls thin. “That’s not Motown –”

“That’s not a no.”

“See,” she tries instead, “you’re getting more lively already!”

There’s a flash of teeth behind his lips, but he hides it in his shoulder. “Whatever, the song is ending. How about you put on an actual club song?”

Her finger hovers over her screen.

“This decade.”

“Fine,” she sighs, scrolling past her collection of 80s music. “I can do that.”

“Uh-huh, I’m–”

“Shawty had those Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur –”

He stares. “All right, I’m concerned you don’t know what year it is.”

“They still play this!” she insists, starting to bop to the beat. “It’s on plenty of club mixes.”

“All right,” he sighs, taking her hands. “This is physically painful, Doc. No one dances like that at a club.”

“Plenty of people do,” she insists, leaving out that most of her club experience is seeing them on CSI reruns. She’s got a feeling he already knows.

“Come here,” he guides her closer, until their hips are almost touching. “Let me just – show you. End the embarrassment.”

“I’m not –” Embarrassing gets swallowed along with her tongue, because his hand hooks over her hips, her own right beneath, guiding her into a slower swing that barely involves feet moving at all. He’s not – not touching her anywhere else, but he’s so close he might as well be, and she’s just – aware. Of all of him.

He smells nice.

“Oh is this – grinding?” she squeaks. “I’ve heard about that before –”

“No.” His voice is entirely too deep. “This would be grinding.”

His hands tug on her, yanking her forward until his knee is between her legs, until every shift on her body brings her right down on his thigh and –

Oh, that is – that’s not –

Okay, maybe this is a problem.

“Oh,” she breathes, jolting away, right back into the wall. That should be it, end of moment, but she – she doesn’t let go of his hands, and then he’s crashing into her, just catching himself on the wall, her hands still twined in his –

“Sorry.” He swallows; she’s so close she can hear it. She can see it too, and the way his eyes are all dark, mostly pupil with a thin rim of gold. His leg is still between hers, and her hands press up by her shoulder, and he’s just – so, so tall –

If he’d just bend down a little, maybe she could –

“Eep!” she yelps, pocket buzzing. “That’s just – I think Yuzuri –”

“Oh,” he breathes, pulling back. “Right. Her clubbing thing.”

r u guys gonna be ready soon?i wanna b drinking already

Obi’s already wandered away, back to the couch, and she –

i think our night is already spoken forobi wants to stay inbut let’s do breakfast tomorrow

boobut i get to pick the place

#Anonymous #The Wide Florida Bay #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #my fic #ans #Obi is one of those guys who is like #your extremely attractive friend #and Shirayuki is not like...NEW to thinking about stuff nebulously involving him #but between here and the dinner her struggle is really...#that this is longer and much more sober period than she ever managed before #and stuff with Zen is weird #and so she can't just...start thinking about how her life is all planned out #two years at lyrias and then a PhD and everything is all set!#that's apparently a plan Zen forgot about #and now Obi's attractiveness is OMNIPRESENT #a constant companion #and she doesn't know how to DEAL with real attraction #it's not until the dinner that she finally puts together that OH HUH #she wants to be his GIRLFRIEND #and obv she's telling Yuzuri nothing #because Yuzuri would be like PLEASE JUST BANG AND GET MARRIED ALREADY and she knows it

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captainsaku · 6 years

Text

Distractions

This is part two of my @masseffectholidaycheer present for @continuousspec! I’m so sorry for the wait, I’ve had a really busy month, but I hope you like it!!

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Female Ryder/Vetra Nyx Characters: Juniper Ryder, Vetra Nyx Tags: Romance, Fluff AO3 link: Here! Word count: 809

Summary: Ryder had a date with Vetra... and she forgot.

“If I could just improve the output here to decrease overheating…” Juniper’s brow furrowed as she leaned over the pieces of her dismantled turret on her desk, tongue probing the corner of her mouth. She’d finally discovered how to shave down Lilypad–her turret’s–cooldown time, and only needed to make a few more tweaks...

“Hey, Ryder?”

Vetra’s voice made her jump; she hadn’t heard the door slide open. “Ow! I bit my tongue!” She turned a half-accusatory look on her partner, though there was no heat in the expression.

“Sorry.” Vetra inclined her head with a quick twitch of her mandibles, gold-green eyes on Juniper’s. “We still on for… well, now? I tried pinging you, but you’ve not been answering my messages.”

Ryder cursed loudly. How long had she been working?

“If it’s a bad time–”

“No!” She cut Vetra off before she could finish, dropping the tool she was holding. “Vetra, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

“It’s fine. I just… wasn’t sure you still wanted to–”

“I do!” There was alarm in Juniper’s tone, pitched an octave higher than usual in the sudden panic that overcame her. “I do,” she repeated, softly this time. “I’m really sorry. I got carried away. Let me change into something more comfortable and I’ll be right with you.”

“You sure? We can reschedule if you’re busy.”

“Positive. I want to spend time with you.”

Vetra seemed to relax visibly; her mandibles flicked in a smile. “Catch you in a bit… Juniper.”

Ryder felt herself flush, soft pink creeping up her neck and cheeks. Vetra rarely used her given name, and it made her heart beat all the louder when she did. That sultry, two-toned voice seemed to soften audibly when her name rolled off her tongue, awkward in its foreignness, but full of affection and warmth. Juniper loved that about her. She loved the way her eyes seemed to gleam and melt into warm honey when they came to rest on her, loved the affectionate twitch of her mandibles she couldn’t seem to hide, loved the low rumble of her subvocals and the strange ring they added to her voice. In short, she loved Vetra Nyx. Vetra, who had been there with her almost since day one. Vetra, who had been–understandably–guarded about her feelings until she was sure that they were returned. Vetra, who showed she cared in small yet meaningful ways, and tried hard to make her happy. Vetra, who had a soft, gentle, caring side to her under that tough merc exterior. Vetra. Her Vetra.

Tonight was supposed to be all about them, about spending some quality time together, learning about each other, cuddling, kissing… and cooking. And she was late.

The door swished shut as Vetra left and Juniper jumped up off her chair, almost knocking it over in her haste to change and make a run for the door. Inwardly, she thanked the Tempest’s design crew for placing the galley so close to her quarters.

Ten minutes later, she skidded to a halt outside the galley in her scramble to get inside. Unsurprisingly, Vetra was already there, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, eyes bright with amusement; she could have sworn Vetra was smirking, though her mouthplates could not quite make that expression the way a human mouth did. Guilt washed over Juniper like a massive wave, and she dropped her eyes to her feet. “I’m sorry, Vetra. I was so caught up with Lilypad… I lost track of time. Didn’t mean to stand you up.”

Vetra pushed herself off the counter with ease and closed the short space between them in a stride. She gathered Ryder in her arms, holding her close. “It’s almost like you’re married to your constructs,” she teased, nuzzling her head affectionately.

Juniper slumped against her with a huff. “You’re mean.”

“Love you too, Ryder. Ready to cook?”

Juniper let out a laugh and pulled back just enough to look her partner in the eyes. “Ready to teach you, more like.”

“Ouch. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“You can do better than that steak. You’ll see. Besides, I’d probably do a terrible job with your food too.” She tugged her down by the cowl and stole a kiss. “We can do this.”

“Cook for each other? Yeah. We can try.”

“Let’s not burn anything this time, though.”

“Kallo will have our heads if we do.”

Juniper giggled and kissed her partner once more, then hummed as Vetra followed up with yet another kiss. “You keep that up and the last thing we’ll do is cook.”

The turian responded with a low, dangerous laugh. “I’m counting on it.”

Oh. The door locked behind her as her partner pushed her back into it, kissing her as they went.

The cooking would have to wait.

#masseffectholidaycheer #continuousspec #Mass Effect #Mass Effect Andromeda #Female Ryder x Vetra Nyx #My writing

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

Text

A Hot Day in July

Peaches Hot House’s fried chicken packaged to-go

15 gallons of cocktails. 180 ramekins of aioli. How one Brooklyn hotspot has turned itself into a successful fast-casual restaurant during the pandemic

Before the pandemic, eating dinner at Brooklyn restaurant Peaches Hot House meant writing a name on a whiteboard in the vestibule and waiting to be called for a table in a packed dining room. The staff would point guests to the bar while they waited, and despite the fact that it takes up about a third of the room, it was almost as difficult to snag a seat there as it was at a table.

Today the seatless bar has a few menus strewn across it, the whiteboard reads “takeout and delivery,” and the furniture is stacked to one side of the dining room. A bench that used to provide seating for four people now serves as a barrier between the six-foot square of masking tape on the floor — the designated ordering zone — and the bar and kitchen. But despite of all of this, Peaches Hot House is busier than ever. On Thursday, July 2, the day’s sales are 64 percent higher than they were a year ago around this time.

“Even if it’s a busy night, you can only seat so many people,” says Damian Laverty-McDowell, the company chef for B + C Restaurants, the group that owns Peaches Hot House. Since the pandemic began, B + C added Grubhub and Door Dash delivery services on top of its existing relationship with Caviar. “There was a finite ceiling. When you add three new delivery service revenue streams, and you compound that by the fact that nobody can go out to eat, it flips all that right on its head. Now it is infinite.”

“Triple-batch everything.”

As the pandemic took hold, restaurateurs scrambled to figure out how to adapt their businesses to an industry that was being dealt unprecedented changes on a daily basis. “At that point, we didn’t know how many people we were going to be able to keep on,” Craig Samuel, one of the owners, says. “We didn’t know if [a Payment Protection Program loan] was going to be available, or if it was going to be available to us.” The owners of B + C devised a plan to furlough the majority of their staff, temporarily closing the other Hot House location, in Brooklyn’s Fort Greene neighborhood, and funneling business and the remaining employees to the location in Bed-Stuy. “It was a decision that was made based on trying to remain a viable business,” Samuel says. “When [New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio] said that delivery and takeout were still available, we figured we’d be able to make it at at least some of the locations with that.”

The plan worked, but required restructuring Hot House into a fast-casual version of itself. The transformation is evident from before the restaurant opens at 11 on July 2. Norma Hunt, the restaurant’s operations manager, tells the staff to scale up their side work of portioning barbecue aioli and pre-batching cocktails. “Triple-batch everything,” she instructs. “So the work flow isn’t so bad tomorrow.” Claudia, a bartender who has worked at the restaurant for a week, mixes the restaurant’s four cocktails in buckets usually used to ship and store pickles. By the time the gate is rolled up, she has mixed 15 gallons of tequila, fresh watermelon, and lime juices, which will go into the frozen drink machine and become the Back Up Dancer cocktail. The Peaches Hot House beverage program has always focused on cocktails, according to Hunt, but since the shift to delivery and takeout, it has been streamlined to essentials: three drinks, bottled in three sizes, plus the Back Up Dancer (which is only available for pickup because it doesn’t travel well).

Staff who used to wait tables, now help package delivery and takeout orders.

The food has been pared down to the most resilient essentials. The updated menu, which Hot House has been serving since April, is two-thirds the size of the one before the pandemic. “I looked at all the numbers of what we were selling through each platform, and we narrowed down what people were actually eating,” Laverty-McDowell says. The burger and grilled broccoli are now the only items cooked to order. Everything else is made in larger quantities, with tweaks like replacing sauteed kale with braised collard greens, which can stay warm in a steam table without falling apart. The restaurant’s best-sellers, its Nashville-style hot chicken plate and fried chicken sandwich, are still there, and it sells a lot more of them.

The front-of-house staff, who used to ping-pong across the floor during service, are much more stationary now. Christina, who worked as a server and bartender at Hot House before the pandemic, spends the morning working the expediter position in the kitchen. When guests sat at tables in the dining room, an expediter worked with cooks to ensure that food coming off the line made it to tables at the right pace, tidying plates and occasionally running them out to the dining room. Today, her shift mostly consists of packing food into paper bags, bringing them out to what used to be the service bar, and stocking up for the dinner rush.

As she fills sleeves of to-go ramekins of barbecue aioli, she tells me how she has used her new position wrangling nearly 100 orders at a time as a means to also work on a personal goal that she set after being furloughed. “When I got let go, I was like, okay, I’m going to take this time to see if I can try to make myself better,” she explains. She says coming back to work the expo station has instead forced her to be more comfortable asking for help, which she didn’t ever do while working behind the bar in the old days. The new work has also resulted in physical changes: “I definitely dropped 20 pounds since coming back to work,” she says. “I used to struggle with one of [the cocktail] buckets; now I can hold two with no issues.” But she misses her old job and likens her new one to working in fast food, before adding that here at least she still gets to talk to guests when they pick up their orders. After 15 minutes, she has filled one fish tub full of about 60 ramekins. She needs to fill three more before the dinner crew gets in, but first she places an order of fried green tomatoes and a shrimp sandwich into a bag, staples the ticket to the front, and brings it to the dining room.

The lion’s share of Hot House’s orders come from delivery apps, and the combined sales from all three services — Grubhub, Door Dash, and Caviar — are 12 times what the restaurant sold on delivery apps on the Thursday before the Fourth of July in 2019.

Each app operates from its own tablet and interface, and prints its own order tickets (all of which look different from the tickets the restaurant’s point-of-sale system prints out for orders). Hunt notes that while the transition from table service to takeout has required adjustment for the staff, she has also noticed the impact on regulars, who have called the restaurant feeling frazzled after trying to order delivery from apps. “On day two [of the city on pause], I was helping someone set up an account,” Hunt says. “I’ve also been emotional support — I’ll stay on the phone while they place the order and confirm that they got it.”

Because 80 percent of the staff were laid off at the start of the pandemic, Hunt frequently worked as the only front-of-house employee while also ordering all the food, alcohol, and to-go boxes, as well as writing the schedule. The restaurant received a Paycheck Protection Program loan, allowing it to start to rehire employees in mid-May, and providing Hunt some reprieve from 70-hour work weeks.

As lunch dies down past 3 p.m., the dinner cooks, Ruben and Antonio, arrive. Chicken fries from before the restaurant opens at noon until just shy of 9 p.m., and hotel pans of cornbread laid out to cool on kitchen shelves are replaced with bundt cakes throughout the day. Yarel, who works the dinner expo shift, displays laser focus in organizing her station before the rush starts. It doesn’t take long for the printers to start churning, filling the pass in front of her with tickets, and the bartop with bagged orders.

Peaches Hot House is selling more fried chicken these days.

On the sidewalk out front, couriers wait on electric bikes, glued to their phones. One, holding the collar of his shirt over his mouth, walks past the sign on the door asking everyone to wear a mask. He is one of 26 people who come in flagrantly disregarding the sign that day. After a handful of confrontations with guests and couriers over mask use, Hunt approaches each instance on a case-by-case basis. “I try to figure out the safest way to handle a situation so that I’m not putting any of my staff at risk,” she says. For some regulars, that means ribbing them into wearing one. For others, it can mean simply trying to get them out as quickly as possible, or offering them disposable masks. “I acknowledge the privilege in access to PPE,” Hunt says, “and this neighborhood has a dramatic schism there.”

Hot House’s role as a neighborhood mainstay has worked to its benefit, according to Samuel. With the pandemic disrupting professional and personal routines, the residents of Bed-Stuy found themselves at home, not taking Ubers or dining out. Many sought to soothe themselves with comfort food from a neighborhood staple. The murder of George Floyd and ensuing civil unrest also contributed to an uptick in business. “We definitely had a huge bump because of it,” he says. “We were on everyone’s list of Black-owned businesses in Brooklyn.”

Much of Hunt’s night is spent bouncing between greeting regulars and answering questions about the menu. This isn’t unlike her role in the pre-pandemic days, except now she is also making sure the space doesn’t become overcrowded. She occasionally clears the room, raising her voice and asking everyone who isn’t placing an order to please wait outside.

Toward the end of the night, a man with a 5-month-old parrot on his shoulder yells an order for fried chicken and fried catfish through the open door. The parrot’s name is Leila, and her owner goes by Hot Sauce Mike. Neither entree is for the bird, who mostly eats seeds, but enjoys sugar as a treat.

“The way that everything had shifted actually ended up benefiting us.”

By Hunt’s assessment, it was a moderately busy service, but much more tranquil than some of the days she has worked in the past few months. Samuel is quick to point out that the boost in sales notwithstanding, Hot House is far from financial security. The increase in business is offset by delivery fees from apps, extra paper goods to facilitate serving all orders to go, and other increases in the cost of doing business that the restaurant has absorbed without raising prices. It also contends with struggles the industry has faced since before the pandemic, like rent hikes and increased labor costs.

In mid-July, Hot House added tables in front of the restaurant and started full-service outdoor dining, offering the closest thing it can to the pre-pandemic experience (as well as an extra revenue stream). Still, Samuel says that delivery orders are sustaining the business, and having weathered the first few months of the pandemic likely bodes well for the future of Hot House.

The worst is almost certainly behind Samuel. As the city and state governments were ramping up to ban indoor dining in mid-March, and he and his partners were trying to decide how to navigate the situation, he was also sick with COVID-19. His condition rapidly worsened, putting him in the hospital. “The next thing I know, I’m in a coma. I woke up, and found out that 25,000 people died. I was in a hospital without my phone, without contact, and [I] couldn’t call anyone. I was lying there thinking we’re dead. My career is over,” he says. “Later, I got in contact with my wife and talked to my partner. I realized that the way that everything had shifted actually ended up benefiting us.”

Ian Browning is a writer, skateboarder, and occasional bartender based in New York City. Clay Williams is a Brooklyn-based photographer.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2Q2u2nr https://ift.tt/3iGdkXg

Peaches Hot House’s fried chicken packaged to-go

15 gallons of cocktails. 180 ramekins of aioli. How one Brooklyn hotspot has turned itself into a successful fast-casual restaurant during the pandemic

“Triple-batch everything.”

Staff who used to wait tables, now help package delivery and takeout orders.

Peaches Hot House is selling more fried chicken these days.

“The way that everything had shifted actually ended up benefiting us.”

Ian Browning is a writer, skateboarder, and occasional bartender based in New York City. Clay Williams is a Brooklyn-based photographer.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2Q2u2nr via Blogger https://ift.tt/30Rjz4d

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sonatanotwo · 7 years

Text

*BLUE SCREEN OF DEAAAATH*

An error has occurred. Please stand by while Virgil-mun reboots.

EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE 00:32 ATTACKED.

........WELL SHIT.

I mean. I think the more I let this soak in... I’m kinda okay with it??? In a I LOVED MY HEADCANONS SO MUCH BUT. Like. I could go either way in TOS. But it DID kinda feel like things were pointed differently in TAG??? X__x

But.

WHELP.

GUESS I GOT SOME HEADCANONS TO UH... TWEAK.

So many headcanons... and fic plans… and so much artwork...

Rest in pieces.

｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡

lol I just. Oh man.

No single episode has ever thrown our world quite so upside down, much less ONE WORD. XD

BUT LIKE. I’ve been thinking as it’s been soaking in... standing back with a bit more objectivity...

I think the writing was KINDA on the wall? ^.^a

The way Scott and Virgil interact certainly pointed this way? Like. Bro pointed out Slingshot. John came down... and Scott and Virgil are both reassuring him. He’s very insecure there and Scott and Virgil very much take the role of two big bros. And there really is... just a vibe between them when they tease and jib each other and talk on missions. It’s hard to quite explain but. Yeah. And then just... Recharge. Recharge. All of it. I’m sure there’s other things, I’m just pulling these off top of my head. lol but yeah. We really can't say signs haven't been there, ya know? XD

And another thing that is easy to forget... many of the TAG! creative team were fans of the original. I think a lot of many casual fans (in that they didn’t have all the annuals and what not XD) I think did generally assume Virgil was second. Heck, if I’d only rewatched TOS and then TAG! without falling into wikis and fan fic, I’d probably have assumed Virgil was second too. lol :) And also... like.. 40? ish? years publications and stuff did put Virg 2nd. A lot of fans would have seen that long before Carlton and Bentley’s book changed everything in 2000 on. So. The possibility was always very strongly there this is how they’d go.

BUT. On the other hand, to be fair, there have certainly been mixed signals. The way Virgil and Gordon interact very much does feel like it was Virgil->Gordon. And in Breakdown a lot of the way Virgil and John bounced off each other did have a vibe to it... especially asking about ‘the big book of rescues’. Virgil being more experienced, you’d think he’d know before John. And just. In animation TALL to SMALL tends to reflect ages. XDDD Animation likes to be really that ridiculously obvious, because they think the visual cues are things kids need. lol

So it was entirely fair we went down this path. It was a nice path and things fit together well. I adored my headcanons. ;A; ...But. Perhaps we overlooked the more obvious a bit?? =Oa lol XD

This is going to take awhile to process and rework headcanons, gosh. XD Like. Trying to parse and it’s just...my brain... so bluescreened. XD Where to START. lolol I’ve been rping Virg over 2 years now? XD lol I mean, I could totally choose to ignore this, but... I always try to adhere to canon. I've always known there could be a risk John or Virgil would one day say something like this. XD I DID know. SO... I can’t really say I’m actually surprised.

LIKE, JUST, WOW, DID NOT EXPECT THAT TODAY. LOOOL

AT LEAST, I THINK this should lock everyone in order wise? Cause oh gosh, rewatching one of the interviews with David and Rasmus, David specifically says “both Alan and Gordon--even though they’re the youngest and sort of the jokers of the pack” and then Ras does vague mention ‘the two oldest’ (which I realize I do recall sorta wondering...Oldest? Scott and WHO?) then moment later does speak about Scott (having the weight of the world) and… Virgil being normally relaxed (and David speaks up all, but he’s the emotional caretaker.) ..Scott and Virgil. Oh gosh, it seems so obvious now. HAHA OOPS. XD

ANYHOO. RIGHT. SO.

How about the other 21:28 of the episode.... XDDD (I really thought this entire post would be just entirely OMG, GRANDMA AND VIRG SO ADORBS. LOLOLOLOL)

BUT YEAH. SO. ....STILL, OMG, GRANDMA AND VIRG SO ADORBS!!!1!!! Gosh, Virgil loves his Grandma, especially to take her shopping, I guess. XDDD He’s so patient with her. XD

DICE. lolol They didn’t seem very Virg to me, but then Bro found info that apparently pilots would hang dice for good luck? especially showing the number 7? One point I think 5 and 2 are upwards. And like when Grandma baps them, they show 4 2 and 1 XDDD I GUESS HE NEEDED LUCK FOR GRANDMA SHOPPING. XDDDD Must not be too attached to em’ since gave em’ away though.

SCOTT is the one who is especially all about his hair. HAHAHAHA XDDD (Also Grandma called him SCOTTY :D)

Virgil just. GOSH. So worried about her. Like. I said it about that clip. No he’s SO not talking to Grandma to take care of TB2, it’s to TB2 to take care of his Grandma. He’s really not so worried about TB2, it’s entirely Grandma he’s worried about in this episode. Totes. :|b

GRANDMA FLEW AROUND THE WORLD. She was like. FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS. A;sdjoasia Met her husband and had a son. (...one son? ...oops. WELL. So much for that bit of sorta TOS semi-Canon XD That’s the extra materials for ya. lol Although... Designated Drive Parker said your father and his brothers? Though coulda been a throw-away for the joke? Hum. XD ) They liked exploring too?! (I guess that’d explain the compass…) This doesn’t entirely nix out the Kansas setting I think, but gosh. HRM.

Grandma... has a name.

Grandma has a name, guys. (...WELL, yes, obviously she did, but wow didn’t expect to actually get TOLD it.)

And it's not Ruth. (...WELL, obviously it was never gonna be cause that was %100 fanfiction created fanon, but.)

I just. a;sidj a;sidja ;aosjida

WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT THIS EPISODE EITHER. WELL THEN.

Sally Tracy :D

Gosh what else. Lololol Grandma’s shopping list is a hoot. Even Virgil looks so like oh god this list what, when he’s reading it at the end. I also sense many creative team injokes on it. XD Oh guess know it is a snooker table now. (...why… do they need new cues? XDa Maybe a show injoke? Maybe those tiny ones break a lot? HRM XD) Lemon squeezer loooool.

I like even though cooking did come up, it was like… not oh god cooking jokes.

I just. GOSH.

There is so much to think about. I’m still kinda stuck on 00:32 muchless the rest. XD

ANYHOO. I think I’m going to make another post to ramble in about headcanons. Got so much to now try and sort out in my brain. Cause as much as it doesn’t change everything it does still change things.

#Thunderbirds Are Go #TAG Spoilers #Episode: Grandma Tourismo #THIS IS A VERY LONG POST #as you might expect XD #...too long really #I'm RAMBLING SORRY XD #MAN this episode was nearly everything I hoped for #and everything I NEVER EXPECTED #good GOSH #yeah this is going to take me awhile to figure out in my head #UGH I can't believe even this happened right after that ask other day I replied #prolly jinxed myself or something looool #man I'm screaming but man this affects #like... all the bros save really Alan? lol #gosh @__@#~order change

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