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swlbarnes · 5 years

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Snap Crackle Pop - Castiel x Reader

Summary/Request: @previouslyforgotten requested- I know I gave you a request before. But I’m going to do it again because I have a better idea! Introducing cas to pop rocks. Where like the reader was eating them and cas could hear the sound it made and he becomes curious?

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: none! Just fluffy fluff!

A/N: okay so I know you sent in a request before this and I’m so sorry that’s not out yet, but I really loved this prompt and I had to get this out as soon as I was able to! I know it’s super duper short and I’m sorry about that, but I hope this is what you were wanting! If not let me know!

Life as a hunter didn’t have many high moments. Most of your time was spent either researching, being thrown around by various supernatural creatures, or downing as much alcohol as possible to stop thinking about the pain from your injuries of your last hunt. That’s why, when you got your hands on an old childhood treat, you were over the moon.

The crackling sensation paired with the sugary taste dancing over your tongue to create the perfect memory of life as a kid, downing as much of this substance as you could. As the snapping sound subsided, you picked up the little paper bag labelled as Pop Rocks and tipped another mouthful back to start the whole process over.

You let out a small giggle at the feeling of the sugar cracking against your tongue. You opened your mouth just slightly to let the sound out, allowing it to echo in the otherwise silent bunker library. Sam and Dean had gone out on a hunt of their own a couple hours away, insisting it would likely only take a day or two to complete. A simple salt and burn, they said, so you decided it was safe enough for you to stay back and keep an eye on the bunker. This, of course, was code for you lounging around in your PJs doing whatever happened to catch your fancy at the time. This time you remained absolutely enamored by the sweet treat clutched between your fingers.

Your teeth crunched down on the little remaining fizzy sugar coating your tongue in preparation of another round. Just as you shook out the last of the granules from the bottom of the bag, a familiar ruffle of wings sounded from behind you. You whirled around in your seat to face the raven haired angel that just appeared.

“Cas!” You cried joyously, the sound muffled by the mouthful of sugary candy crackling seemingly endlessly. The angel adjusted the lapels of his trench coat and fixed you with a signature head tilt.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he hummed out in his usual gravelly baritone. Castiel took a step towards you. Azure eyes bubbled with pure confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun!” You replied simply, picking up a new bag of Pop Rocks and shaking it to drive your point home. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, the crackling on your tongue grew louder, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the tickling sensation on your tongue.

None of this seemed to make the situation any clearer for the poor trench coat clad angel. He shuffled slightly closer as if to peer at the bag of candy held between your fingers, but instead he focused in on your face. “What’s that sound?” He questioned, voice slightly alarmed. “That cracking sound, what is that? Is that you? Are you okay? Is it a witch, did a witch put a curse on you?” His words picked up speed until they tumbled endlessly from his mouth in a flurry of confusion and worry. He reached his hands out and cupped your cheeks so he could easily tilt your head from side to side in search of any bodily harm. His calloused thumbs trailed over the corners of your mouth, brushing against some of the sugar stuck to your lips.

You tried to reply, but between the mouthful of candy and Cas’s palms pressing your cheeks together, it wasn’t particularly easy to speak. Instead you were only able to open your mouth a bit, releasing some of the sounds from the Pop Rocks candy.

The seraph’s eyes widened as the sound grew louder. He released his hold on your cheeks and instead held your chin with his pointer finger and thumb. He tugged your jaw open to examine the heap of sugar melting away in your mouth. “What… What is that?”

He reached up with his other hand, pointer finger held out prepared to poke at the substance. You noticed this just in time and were barely able to grab his wrist in your own hand. “It’s Pop Rocks, Cas,” you informed him, once more shaking the bag to grab his attention. Icy blue hued eyes flickered over to the little black paper bag in question.

“Is this dangerous?” He queried, still quite clearly concerned for your well being. He let your jaw go and instead reached out to take the bag from you, handling it with the utmost care.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at his naivety. “No, no Cas. It’s not dangerous at all. It’s just candy!”

“This is candy?”“Just candy.”His brows furrowed in confusion. Castiel used two fingers to peer inside at the sizzly suspect. “Then why does it make such a noise? And how?”

“It makes the noise because it’s fun. It feels cool. And don’t ask me how it works, I’m just a hunter. No scientist background here.” You plucked the package from his hands and poured out a good amount into the palm of your hand. “You know what? Here, hold out your hand.”

He cast you a suspicious look, but after a moment, conceded and held out his hand palm up. You raised the bag to him and tipped it to allow a bit of the candy to pool in the creases of his palm. You poured about half as much as you would usually pour for yourself, not wanting to overwhelm the poor seraphim. Once his portion was to your liking, you set the bag down on the library table and raised your cupped palm in the air in a mock toast. “Bon appetit!” You cheered with a smile before dumping the sugary concoction into your mouth once again. The buzz of the sugar was beginning to hit you now, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. A quick sugar rush with your favorite angel sounded quite nice, if you were being honest.

Castiel watched you expectantly, and as you motioned for him to follow suit, he was quick to comply. The Pop Rocks disappeared past his lips and instantly began crackling once they hit his tongue. His eyes widened at the sensation, and his face contorted in what seemed like shock. The muscles in his jaw worked relentlessly to shift the sugar about, never keeping it in one place too long as it continued to pop against his mouth.

You allowed a moment of only popping to pass before you spoke up. “So,” you began, voice once again muffled by the candy. “What do you think, angel?”

The tell tale sound of teeth crunching on sugar could be heard. Cas quickly chipmunked the remaining candy in his cheeks to reply. “I…” He paused to allow a smile to form on his lips. “I like this. This is quite… fun.”

Your face mirrored his in an instant. You hooked your foot around one of the legs of the chair next to you and tugged it out, patting the seat for Castiel. “Well, that’s great, because I bought all the Pop Rocks from the convenience store in town and I need someone to eat them with me so I don’t accidentally eat too many and explode.”

Castiel froze in place, one hand resting on the back of the chair you pulled out for him. “Is that possible?”

A smile and a laugh was all it seemed to take to release the tension from Castiel’s shoulders. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about that, angel. Just sit down and let’s have some fun before the brothers get back home, yeah?”

With that, the angel sat down by your side, and you indulged in two of your favorite, most simple of pleasures: nostalgic candy and quality time with one special angel.

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animosus-blog1 · 5 years

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is it too late for 'animal within'? :O

your animal within ( according to newt ) ❈ ― @circusglass

“ you make me think of an occamy. ” the comment is offhand, sounding nearly as casual as it does like the reasoning behind it should be OBVIOUS. the look on molly’s face when newt glances over a few seconds later, however, informs him that he may need to explain himself.

“ well--- you are both bright and colourful, very... beautiful. it’s what most will notice about you before anything else, especially as the eye tends to be DRAWN OVER by your flashiness.

“ and much like the occamy, there is far more to you than mere appearances. ...even if that’s where you seem to prefer to KEEP the focus. you aren’t as quick to defense as an occamy is, but you are incredibly aggressive when it’s required of you --- something that people don’t tend to anticipate, i think, simply by LOOKING at you. and, like how an occamy can shrink and grow to a size fitting of the available space, i’ve noticed that you’re able to do something rather similar with your personality. ” a pause, and he frowns, wondering if he’s managed to word his thoughts in a way that makes sense. “ ---i just mean... depending on circumstance, you’re able to dial back some of your more, erm... ostentatious traits? or even INFLATE them, should a situation call for it. ”

falling quiet then, the wizard continues preparing various meals for his creatures, toying with the idea of leaving his thoughts there. it’s certainly ENOUGH of the explanation to end it and be understandable, though it does lack the final detail. a detail that might be... sensitive. he isn’t sure.

“ occamies hatch from eggs of pure silver. most people only see the value in them for that, in... where they’ve come from. in their PAST. they fail to see that the occamy’s true value is within the creature itself, and NOT in the things it has unknowingly shed. ”

#circusglass #❇ ― 〈 owl post 〉 asks: ic.#ν ― 〈 from ministry to magizoology 〉 main: i.#me while writing this: have him call molly beautiful to throw her off the scent of the deeper shit #anyway that last bit is an attempt at referencing lucien and i hope that comes across?#i don't think newt knows much about That Whole Thing but i'd like to think he's at least aware #of molly's unique situation #tbh he doesn't care who molly was before he was molly. newt likes him the way he is now b y e #❇ ― 〈 worrying means you suffer twice 〉 queue.

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hopefulcovets-blog · 5 years

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@hopefulaspires || Tina

“ Tina. ” Newt’s fingers, SCRATCHED from his creatures ( one finger still bleeding through its wrap ), reach to touch her hand, then intertwining their fingers through each other. Her touche is so WARM, so gentle. When they are close like this, he feels as if he is HOME. But, now more than ever, he wants HER to feel like she’s home; safe. “ The nightmares you had last night ... I’m worried they’re getting worse. ”

#THREAD // HOPEFULASPIRES #WORRYING MEANS YOU SUFFER TWICE // NEWT SCAMANDER #WHY DON'T YOU JUST MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE (ANNOYING NOISE) // QUEUE

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scaramouche-bully · 3 years

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i hope this isn't rude to ask, but why do you write dark content topics like noncon and abuse? i'm a s/a and abuse survivor who had no problem with these things before my trauma but afterwards i became angry at people who made such content. now i'm trying to remember that people have different reasons for writing these things and i've been asking writers what their thoughts are. i've been following you for a while and i know you're kind and not ill intentioned in your writing, so i was wondering what your views are. this isn't meant to be hateful at all and i am just curious and want to understand. if this makes you uncomfortable feel free to delete it!

Hello anon,

Don't worry, this isn't rude to ask at all. I respect that you want to understand and this is from curiosity rather than being hateful (which I don't take your ask as such) and that you remember that there's a person behind the work. To be honest, I don't really know how to answer your question so I might go on a tangent. I hope you don't take my words as fact or my entire thought process but I just want to say:

I don't support rape or abuse. I don't want anyone to think that just because I write it, I fantasize about it or condone it in any way. I don't. I'm not trying to offend or make anyone angry, that's why I tag everything twice and add a read more. It's your choice whether to believe me or not, I just ask that you don't harass me under those assumptions.

To put it bluntly, it's just writing to me. When you see people write or do something really obscure or relating to dark content, you're completely right to assume it's because they're interested in those topics. But that's not necessarily the same for everything and everyone. I can't speak on the behalf of every single writer out there but personally, it's just something to explore from an omniscient point of view. I'm not going to bullshit you or sugarcoat my words, I'm not a survivor and the harassment and abuse that I have suffered aren't traumatic to me. That's why I can think that way and it's not because I have any ill-intent or I'm trying to undermine or pretend that those issues aren't serious. They are. Personally, I would get very upset as well because, in my mind, someone is taking something very personal and traumatic and doing what? Writing about it with fictional characters that they want to fuck? It feels insulting in a way. Naturally, I have no idea what you feel but that's how I would react.

But it's similar to any murder/mafia au or even yandere. Does that mean I like killing people or obsessive behaviour? No, absolutely not. When I write a character or direct a movie and someone is shooting someone, does that mean I'm into violence or condone guns? No, that was not the intention at all. We can say it's "not the same thing" and you're totally valid to think that way. But for me, it is. I'm not pretending as if murder or abuse doesn't exist or it's something to want. When it's in shows or books, no one really bats an eye to that. Maybe it's the stigma with fanfic authors that we're all 13-year old quotev writers/readers (I used to be one so I'm really just making fun of myself here) that we rightfully assume it's because we like those topics or we fantasize about being in those situations. Because why else would I want to read or write about x reader fics with those topics?

You don't need me to tell you that it's reasonable to be angry at people that make dark content. I myself, don't really like dark content that much either. I don't daydream about being used and I don't like feeling upset. Which I guess doesn't make sense especially for the type of fics I write. But when I actually write, there's a major disconnect between fiction and reality and I understand that it's not like that for everyone else. Writers pov compared to a reader's pov I feel is very different. I can be a selfish person and write this way because I've never been through it. But it's never from a place of disrespect and I apologize if it feels that way but I can't control what you feel. All I ask is that you read the tags and determine whether or not you want to associate with it. To me, it's just words on a paper and action queues I'm giving to imaginary characters. I'm not fantasizing about anything, I don't even like sex that much. I just think it's something to write that I feel like doing. For example, I don't care for Venti at all. He's cute I guess but I don't want to fuck him. But I still write for him and how I write makes it seem as if I actually look at Venti that way. I don't, it's just writing. I guess it's the same question as to why do you write in general. Because it's fun? I wouldn't really call it "fun" and more of a hobby that I like to do. This doesn't really make sense since people that do anything as a hobby naturally assume they have a passion or like it. In a sense, it's kind of like this: You enjoy drawing but if someone asked you to draw a monster, yes you could do it because you like to draw but it's not like you're putting your heart or deep emotional thoughts into it. It's just a drawing of a monster. You've never had an experience with a monster (in a fictional sense) so there's nothing for you to be traumatized with. There might be some aspects, spikes or tentacles, that make you uncomfortable, sure. And people can find deeper meanings in your work and make assumptions when there isn't, to you it's just an image.

I know this is an incredibly shitty way to explain why I write dark content because it sounds like I don't care or I think abuse/noncon subjects don't matter because it's "just words on a paper". I get it, in movies when the protagonist is abused or has been a survivor of rape and that doesn't go anywhere. That it's just a way for the movie to pity the main character or to explain why they act a certain way, it feels cheap and manufactured and I hate it. But I always believe that as long as you aren't doing anything illegal or endangering yourself + others, I don't care what you do. When I see topics that I personally find disgusting or don't like, I just move on. They aren't hurting me in any way and they're allowed to write what they want to write. I know that isn't the same for everyone and that kind of thinking is very romanticized but I like to think that I'm smart enough to know when that thinking breaks or isn't acceptable.

Sorry that I keep drawing comparisons, it's just how I like to explain things and it's easier for me to explain my thoughts that way. My writing is like a snow globe. Sure it has some real connotations with the snow that comes from nature, but it's not real snow. It's an overly pretty, dream-like world, that can never be cold and doesn't show how awful living with a lot of snow does to you. People that have never seen snow, they'll love it because it doesn't remind them of actual snow since they've never experienced it. But I have, I live in NA. Except I understand that it's just a snow globe. Sure it might make someone uncomfortable for any reason, but it doesn't for me and at the end of the day, it's just an object to me. You can take that as a very selfish way of thinking but I'm not going to throw my snowglobe in the trash just because someone doesn't like it. I know for a fact that anything I write isn't meant to trigger or make anyone upset, I write it because I want to explore those topics. I don't think it's hot, I don't think it's okay, and I don't condone it in real life. But it's just writing to me, it's just fiction, it's a way for me to explore those topics in a way that I am comfortable. If you don't like it and it triggers you, that is completely okay and understandable, but that wasn't my intention and I'm not going to stop.

I hope that answers your question and gives you a bit of insight into my views. I know my way of thinking isn't for everyone and you're allowed to disagree with it. Dark content is a very thin line that a lot of people aren't comfortable with and I acknowledge that. I don't even like dark content that much but I'm not going to stop writing about it. I'll tag everything, crop away topics that trigger people, and to be honest, I don't find myself writing about dark content ever unless an anon asks for it. But if you don't like me or disagree with what I've said, the block button is right there.

- 🐑

#tw dark content #sheep talks #anon ask

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aethylas · 3 years

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For anonymous: a series of answers/clarifications/amendments on The Goldenrod Revisions! (I've answered these all in one post just to make it easier). Thank you so much for the asks, this helped me a) clarify my thoughts b) solve some canon continuity issues so I really appreciate them!

THANK U for agreeing to answer my questions! I'll have to ask them separately so they're not in 1 super-long impossible-to-read ask. I have 3 about 15x19, 1 about 15x20, 2 about 15x21, 2 about 15x22, and 2 about 15x23. quick disclaimer: i don't mean any offense at all by my question count! I didn't even notice these oddities the first time I read this; once I read it and accepted it as the true canon, I took a closer look and then noticed. but plz don't think these made your fic any less great!!

No worries anon! It is literally my pleasure to answer them and I am VERY very happy to find discrepancies with canon in the fic - then I can hopefully fix them and make the fic better :) Also I really appreciate the very systematic way you laid all these out, it really helped me reply, and also subsequently make a couple of edits to the fic!

For 15x19:

1. Why did Chuck trust Michael with the task of killing Jack? As God he should know Michael betrayed him in 15.08; did he expect Michael to disobey him again?

I think in this case we're/Chuck is relying on knowledge from the canon 15.19, i.e. Chuck would assume the outcome predicted by the show - that Michael WOULD betray the Winchesters/the world in order to please his father. So God assumed Michael would act the way he did in Inherit The Earth. But additionally, Chuck isn't actually very keyed-in to his own characters' motivations (esp. when love is involved) or very attached to certain results - he basically sends Michael and Lucifer to kill Jack because he figures it will entertain him no matter what happens - whether Michael and Lucifer kill each other, whether they kill the Winchesters/Jack, etc. - either Jack dies this way or Chuck will think of another way to do it.

2. How was Sam able to kill Lucifer? It was said only an archangel could kill another archangel with the archangel blade; was this a total lie or could Sam do it since he's Lucifer's true vessel? (plz don't change it to have Michael kill him; Sam being the one to do it was perfect, I just wanna understand how he could do it).

So glad you raised this because I honestly totally forgot! But now that you have, I have corrected that lore continuity with a line about biblical metaphors.

3. How is Rowena alive? She said she was dead in 15.08, so I initially assumed as a witch and the Queen of Hell she found a way to travel between Hell and Earth despite being dead. But then Sam says "Michael could've killed you" and then Chuck kills her twice in 15.21, both of which indicate she's alive here - does this mean Michael resurrected her when she summoned him?

God okay this is like - please call me out if this is incorrect or still confusing - but it's kind of like, based on the very inconsistent and confusing lore of the SPN afterlife that I assume Rowena is 'dead' but also 'alive' in the sense that Crowley was 'alive' and is now 'dead'. Does that make sense? She's not 'alive' as a human but rather as a demon (or something like it). So as Queen of Hell and a presumably demonic-adjacent entity, when she's 'killed' she gets sent to the Empty now vs. being 'killed' as a human and going to Heaven/Hell. (Based on when we see her in Hell, I assume she possesses her own body? Unclear. Just go with it. They've never been great with what it means to show vessels in Heaven/Hell etc.)

4. I thought asked all I wanted to know about Goldenrod but I just thought of 1 more thing: I don’t get why some dialogue implies Michael was dead? He mentions how he “found himself back on Earth” and tells the Empty it couldn’t stop Chuck from resurrecting him & Lucifer, but prior to 15.19 we last saw Michael leaving the bunker with Adam alive and well in 15.08, and it seemed like he was gonna stay on Earth for Adam’s sake. So what happened to him?

Oh that's a great point! I think that is actually just a confusing choice on my part that Chuck killed absolutely everyone including Michael/Adam in 15.18 Despair and THEN chose to resurrect Michael (but not Adam) alongside Lucifer when he was bored/wanting to kill Jack. I made some slight adjustments in-text to hopefully make it less confusing because I know that's different to the lore of canon 15.19 Inherit the Earth.

For 15x20:

1. How did the angels and demons in the Empty wake up? Did Michael use the last of his grace to wake everyone up? Were they already awake thanks to Jack blowing up in 15x18 or did they somehow sleep through that? (Not expanding on the Empty's claim that "you made it loud" is one of countless things I'll never forgive the actual show for, so THANK YOU for taking the show back to the Empty in the first place; I was just curious about this one element.)

So the Empty was already 'loud' according to canon, but since canon is vague on what exactly that means (thank you writers!...) I got the impression it meant the Empty wasn't 'peaceful' anymore but still powerful enough to suppress the beings inside, like the beings in there were awake and suffering but unable to rebel. Sort of what we see with Cas in this version of 15.20. Maybe like, additional suffering in sleep paralysis? Regardless, Michael does expend his grace to weaken the Empty enough that other beings wake up and/or are able to fight back and exist outside their own personal nightmare chamber. So whatever your impression of 'loud' is with regards to the other beings in there, assume Michael was able to free them from the Empty's control.

For 15x21:

1. Having Jack & Amara take out Hell & Purgatory was a BRILLIANT idea; I love that they ended all the places of suffering and changed the system. I just wonder - what happened to the souls and the demons still in Hell at that point, and the Leviathans and other monsters still in Purgatory? Were they just wiped out completely and sent to the Empty? Or did Jack turn them human and add them to the cycle? (I don't think the show clarified whether or not Leviathans have souls, so...)

No matter whether they were monster or demon or even angel, they would eventually be given human life. I broke it down to 'human enough souls' vs. 'not human enough souls'. Human-enough were immediately brought to life with memories and versions of their original bodies, and not-human-enough were sent to the Soul Queue to be born as infants. I assume Leviathan and most demons fall into 'not human enough', therefore, whatever tiny microbe of personality/soul they had was added to the cycle of rebirth and would be translated to a new human soul. Of course this might have a WILDLY different impact on the world depending on how many people go to hell in this system, how many people were 'human enough', etc.... But we're basically fudging those numbers a bit one way or another just to give certain characters the revival they deserve haha.

2. Did Cas drown and die after Chuck threw him in the lake and Jack left their limbo-dream world? If so, did he go through the same question-&-answer situation with Death that Sam & Dean did? Or was he with Jack & Amara when they rebuilt the world?

Cas was already dead/dying even when he was talking to Jack, he was sort of in a different version of the 'Veil' per se. VERY wishy-washy, but basically he and Jack were on a different dream-plane that they were jolted to in the chaos of the disorganised no-Death world.

I think Cas, Rowena, Lucifer, Michael, etc. as beings who were killed after the snap is a bit ambiguous. Rowena and Lucifer, I think, as entities who were demonic-dead or Empty-level-dead pre-Snap probably went through the reincarnation Yes/No Death questionnaire. Cas and Michael might not have since they were technically 'alive' and human before the Snap. Regardless, I think they probably wouldn't remember the interaction even if they had it.

The reason the question happened to the Winchesters AND that they remember it is Main Character Syndrome... they were the only people left alive when Jack and Amara did a hard reset, and that honestly Death took time to chill/exposition at them because he likes them. Really. Despite all appearances. Or respects them enough to let them know what's gone down, anyway.

Metatextually, it was really just to reaffirm to the audience that Dean (and Sam) want to live, in contrast to 15.20 Carry On 😅

3. Did all the snapped people (Eileen, Adam, the Waywards, etc.) also go through the Death question-&-answer process but not remember it, or did Jack & Amara just send them back?

Snapped people were reset automatically! Normally the new-humans also wouldn't remember their interactions with Death/reapers, just like in canon lore when someone like Dean has a near-death experience.

I realise this whole section and various other lore reformation parts of the fic aren't SUPER clear on specific logistics but on some occasions I'm like, I've done enough info-dumping, I don't want to overwrite exposition. But if you think it's worth clarifying certain points let me know and I can try to do so!

For 15x22:

1. The twenty something blonde guy in sunglasses getting hot tea, is that Belphegor? sure sounds like it but I wanted to confirm.

Yep!

2. Since Death mentioned that Jack only resurrected the angels, demons, and monsters from the Empty who had enough of a soul, and since all the human souls from the Veil went to Heaven as confirmed by Kevin's presence, how exactly are Anna's human parents and Bela alive now?

Great question - 1) I SOMEHOW FORGOT ANNA'S PARENTS DIED? Complete screw up on my part, I don't know how that happened. I fixed this so it's her grandparents now. 2) Bela was sent to Hell as part of her deal, so I was assuming she was a demon by this point in canon (since it would be... MANY Hell-years since she died.) Therefore she had a 'human' enough demon soul to be put back as a human.

3. Oh, and the tall woman with the flyer in 15.22; who is this supposed to be? Hannah I’m guessing?

To be honest I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for that scene; it was kind of a catch-all for missing characters like, it COULD be Hannah. It could be Raphael. Hell, it could be Abbadon. I didn't want to do a full shot of every single person missing from the cast who had died (esp since like - we wouldn't know who they were anyway! Their bodies would be different). So this one is literally just fill-in-the-blank. But if I had to assign a character there I'd say it would probably be one of the more arrogant angels like Raphael or Uriel.

For 15x23:

1. How is Bobby in the Roadhouse with the gang? 10x17 seemed to imply the angels were about to throw him in the dungeons to punish him for helping Cas; did Ash hack him out of prison, or was he never imprisoned at all? Also, is Jack not surprised to see another Bobby in Heaven because the boys already told him there was another Bobby besides the one he knows from Apocalypseverse? (I was half-expecting him to comment about that and confuse Bobby).

Oh that's a great point! I think that's another sort of fill in the blank since it's been five years since 10.17... even if he was in prison of some kind, I think it's likely either Ash helped him get out in the same way he helped everyone else, and since the angels were extremely short-staffed I doubt getting Bobby suitably imprisoned/punished was their top priority. But honestly I'm not super clear on how the angels intended to punish Bobby, I don't think canon is clear either... like, We Just Don't Know.

Finally I'd like to know, has Sam proposed to Eileen yet by the end of the final episode? The script doesn't mention a ring on her finger, and as Sam's fiancee, I'd assume she'd also have carved her name on the table. Sam mentions the innuendos Dean has said "in the past year," so it's been a while since Jack's prayer scene, yet Cas says Dean & Claire's argument was the last time they spoke, and it doesn't seem likely to me that Dean wouldn't call Claire in a year given how close they are...

Nope! I think Sam is saying 'I'm going to marry her' as a declaration of certainty of his feelings and faith in the future, not neccessarily as something that immediately happens. With regards to 'in the past year', that referred to the period when Eileen was alive during s15 as well! I assume Dean did teasing off-screen (and I mean, he did plenty on-screen too.)

I honestly think that Sam and Dean are just very very busy in the aftermath of the events of the 15.20 reset, like they have to deal with the new world AND try to wrangle all these hunters into this new system of collaboration. I didn't put Eileen on the table because she isn't there in the finale and because I do think the Sam/Dean/Cas/Jack family unit was a bit more central and important to the show, but maybe they add her (and any possible kids, if they have any) later on. God, imagine generations of hunters and/or Winchesters carving on that table. Sacred Artefact...

(1) Ok that's all the questions I have. Again, so sorry to blow up your inbox - I really appreciate your willingness to clarify these things! If there are some things you'd rather not explain and leave ambiguous, I totally get that. And in spite of these aforementioned confusing parts, I still ADORE your fic and will continue to read it whenever I feel like re-"watching" how Supernatural really ended! Thank you so much!! .... (2) I’m SO sorry to overload u! I know I asked a lot and I didn’t mean to sound like a hater saying “none of ur story makes sense”; that’s not what I meant at all! If this was a regular good ol fix it fic I wouldn’t have said anything but since u said u wanted it to wrap up the show as replacement canon, I thought maybe I should point out places that didn’t line up. But take as MUCH time as you need! Good for you working to meet your deadlines; I hope you succeeded!! And again I really appreciate you taking the time to answer whenever you have time—absolutely no rush!! Have a GREAT Memorial Day Weekend!!!

Anon thank you SO SO much for all these questions, as you can see it really helped me identify problems or straight up errors in my work wrt continuity and I'm so happy that means I can improve it. If any of the answers weren't clear or you think I should modify the fic to make certain things clearer than they are right now (other than the things I said I'd fix in-text for sure) let me know! It's really been a pleasure answering them too, I'm sorry it took me so long to get around to it, I actually went back and proofed/edited the whole fic as part of adding some of these corrections in (and that took like... three weeks...) and as you said, it's very important to me to get it as true to canon as possible so - yeah, just, once again, thank you!! You're wonderful! ♥♥♥

#my fic #anonymous #ask #I should make fic-specific tags. someone remind me to go back and re-tag this blog with those sigh #every time I post on this blog I say that every single time #on round like. 20 of corrections now for this fic #post-posting #'goldenrod' revisions. laughable #we're easily on second cherry revisions now #the goldenrod revisions #my meta

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chasebeasts · 5 years

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❝ please tell me i don’t have to stay here for much longer. ❞ newt was becoming restless by the minute , eyes wide as he waited for the young redhead to give him an answer. if only he could move a little more & at least leave his wretched bed , but the burn wound he received on his left side only stung worse when he tried. not to mention , the nasty scratch he received on his right , etching a permanent mark onto his skin.

when visiting hungary to study the hungarian horntail , newt was well aware of the risks that he would face. of course , when coming across a young baby dragon who’s tail was injured from a nasty fall , the magizoologist rushed over & attended to it without question. the mother of course , didn’t understand that what newt was doing was for the benefit of the baby & well , here we are ------ trapped in st. mungo’s for a considerable time. he couldn’t stand it. ❝ merlin’s beard , lily , i'm not meant to sit still for this long. ❞

@doeeyeful / starter call !

#doeeyeful #💼* ﾟ╯「 caution in the field 」/ ( ic )#💼* ﾟ╯「 v: something wild calls you home 」/ ( traveling years )#💼* ﾟ╯「 worrying means queue suffer twice ! 」/ ( queue )#( yes pls shut him up lily )#( men are such babies xD )

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moodyoranged · 3 years

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camryn & austin

big spoon/little spoon: austin unless he takes too long to take initiative then in an impatient fit camryn just goes for it. she just wants to cuddle.

favorite non-sexual activity: they like to take little day trips <3 they like hiking or going out to the lake or that cabin in the family to just hang out and be out in nature. camryn's been trying to take him on more little trips out to the city, just to try and show austin see how much fun we could have if we lived here....

who uses all the hot water: camryn. she just likes to take her time doing all her little womanly things and getting nice and clean and soft. i don’t think austin’s shy about hitting the hot water but she’s definitely worse.

most trivial thing they fight over: i just don’t think they sweat the little stuff. like idk austin is a) nonconfrontational and b) flexible so like if anything i think something that would but camryn is just worrying that he feels like passively about their relationship but that’s not really trivial.

what has a season pass on their dvr/who controls the netflix queue: camryn. austin is agreeable ( aka: zones in and out when they’re sitting around watching stuff anyway ) and lets her turn on whatever she wants. i think she does try a lot of the time to find something they’d both enjoy though and takes it as a victory when he snaps out of whatever train of thought he’s enraptured in to chuckle at whatever short lived 2010s sitcom she’s trying to introduce him too.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: camryn. she’s just better on the phone that’s all.

who steals the blankets: camryn but again she does also love to wallow him so i don’t think he’d suffer too much because of it. just instead of a blanket on him he gets an adult woman who is also wrapped in a bunch of blankets.

who leaves their stuff around: austin. not excessively he’s just forgetful. he doesn’t mean to leave multiple half-filled glasses of water out all over it just happens. i think camryn makes a mess while she’s in the middle of something but she does pretty good at cleaning it up when she’s done.

who remembers to buy the milk: austin but after camryn reminds him twice before he goes to work and texts him at the end of the day. but you know what? that’s still his win.

who cooks normally?: camryn. she tried to be the kind of cute girl who gets her boyfriend to help her in the kitchen but ultimately she’s a bit of a control freak about food so he’s more than welcome to sit at the counter and enjoy a nice cold beer, keep her company and all that, but she’s cooking. they do have like planned takeout nights though fridays they usually order from some favorite local places ( even if the foodie in camryn is so tempted to try new things from some of the fancy new joins that are coming with ballard’s expansion ). then sundays they order pizza <3

how often do they fight?: not often. i think like as they get ready to enter like a Real Long-Term Potentially Marriage relationship place they’re having like more conversations about their future which is testing but they’re not really fighting it’s just like a long conversation where they’re sorting some stuff out.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: they are not away from each other. but if they are it’s a nightly check in kind of deal unless they have like something specific to say during the day. just a quick little love you/goodnight/miss you moment and they’d be the type to just wait and like really debrief/talk about what happened while they were apart when they’re together again

nicknames for each other?: nothing too out of the blue. baby/babe probably most common, camryn likes to throw in a handsome/good-looking kind of moment here and there. i don’t know how like creative austin would get but her family throws around cam/cammy and i think he’d pick up on that

what would they get each other for gifts?: i think they’re both pretty basic gift givers. camryn would kind of keep in the vein of outdoorsy stuff for him, maybe like clothes knowing that he’s into like north face, or some band merch for the man bands he’s into. austin i think always has like classic gifts for ur gf to fall back on like jewelry and flowers and stuff but then there’s also little kitchen gadgets or things like Nice Knives that she’s impressed with. i think for big stuff they’d also be the type to do like an experience in place of a gift like a little weekend getaway together somewhere fun or a concert or something lame even like couple’s wine tasting thing.

who kissed who first?: camryn she was simply much less in her head about such a thing and just went for it.

who made the first move?: austin. and i think that was very brave of him.

who remembers things?: camryn. it’s not that austin’s forgetful ( even if maybe he is a little ) but she just picks up on more to then remember.

who cusses more?: austin probably.

#austin & camryn.#meme reply.#loveback

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marriedthedark · 5 years

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Ladybug Week: Day 2 - Bedtime Stories

Modern AU, 1.4k words

Ruby blindly groped the surface of her bed for the box of tissues she was currently mowing through. Her nose seemed to be a never ending stream of snot and suffering as she cracked open her eyes to stare hopelessly at the ceiling fan above.

No doubt about it. She was sick.

"Hhnnhng," she groaned as she blew her nose for what must have been the thousandth time that evening. It was just her luck that she would come down with something the same day Yang had left for a road trip with her fiancé, Weiss.

She couldn't call her. Knowing Yang she would turn the car around the moment she got the message and go back to take care of her. Even if she did decide to stay on the road, Ruby knew she would remain an anxious mess for the remainder of the trip knowing her sister was home alone with nobody to take care of her. She was going to have to face a long evening with nothing but a growing pile of used tissues and the gentle whirr of the ceiling fan to keep her company.

Unless...

Only her hand moved as Ruby again groped around the bed; this time for her cellphone. She squinted in protest at the bright light emitting from the screen as she began thumbing through her contacts in the otherwise dark room.

"Hey, Blake? I don't mean to bug you, but I think I got the flu, and Yang already left with Weiss. Do you think you can, oh I don't know, make sure I don't die. Or something."

About an hour later soft knock on the door stirred Ruby out of her light slumber. She knew Blake was coming and yet the hour of mental preparation did nothing to ease her into leaving the warm confines of her bed.

”Coming,” she managed to garble out as she began hobbling to the entryway of the apartment. Sure enough Blake was waiting on the other side of the door, a rather large paper bag hanging from her arm.

”I’m sorry I took so long. I made a couple stops on the way here.”

”Oh don’t worry about it,” Ruby drawled out as she sniffed back another onslaught of mucus from pouring out of her nose. “I think I’m just gonna go back to b-bed.”

“Do you need any help? You sound awful.” Blake moved to the kitchen where she began removing a container of fresh chicken soup from her bag.

“Oh, that came out a little harsher than I intended,” she lightly scolded herself.

”No no no you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re here, Blake. Cause if you weren’t then Yang might have come back to a corpse in the bed surrounded by a wall of tissues."

The corners of Blake’s mouth turned up slightly in a small smile.

"That won’t happen as long as I’m around. Remember, I’m the same person who had to take care of Yang during one of her infamous hangovers."

Now it was Ruby’s turn to smile. “Yeah well I can’t really blame her for last time, with Weiss accepting her proposal and all."

Blake laughed at the memory of a loopy Yang gushing to her about how Weiss was practically crying when she pulled the ring out of her pocket.

“Agreed. I’m really happy for them.”

With that, Blake began to walk towards the bedroom, a steaming hot bowl of soup balanced between her hands.

“You should try and eat something. I hope this diner’s soup is good.”

Soon after the two girls made their way to the bedroom. As Ruby enjoyed her soup, Blake sat on the foot of the bed with a novel on her lap.

Once she had her fill, Ruby placed the bowl on her nightstand.

”Hey Blake, can you do me a teensy, tiny favor?”

“Of course.”

”Would it be stupid if I asked you to read me a bedtime story?” There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Blake felt the tips of her ears warm at the request. While she adored reading in her own free time, she had never really read aloud to someone before. Still, the sight of a wide-eyed, runny-nosed Ruby was one that could not be resisted.

“Um, sure. I think I have some nice short stories saved on my phone.”

She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket as she began navigating her list of saved stories.

“What are you in the mood for? Action? Romance?”

“Something happy. I’m doing enough of the sad depressing stuff already.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed affectionately at Ruby’s joke. Even when she was sick she still managed to say the cutest things.

“How does ‘The Girl and the Beast’ sound?”

Ruby’s face visibly brightened at the mention of the title.

"It sound’s great! Please tell it to me!”

Blake grinned at Ruby’s elated reaction. God, this girl was so adorable. After dramatically clearing her throat, she began her narration

“Long ago there lived a girl named Mirana…”

As Blake told the tale of a young Mirana, a human princess who ran away in order to escape her royal duties and live alongside her white tiger, Bestia, she found herself becoming quite immersed in her narration duties. She donned on different voices for the characters and even acted out certain scenes she felt were “necessary.” Ruby couldn’t believe how much Blake was enjoying herself, and her heart fluttered in her chest at the notion that she was responsible for this joyful experience.

Further in the story, Mirana was soon cornered by the royal guards. Their mission was to return the defiant princess back to her family to assume her duties as heir. With her faithful pet at her side, Mirana and Bestia fought valiantly in an attempt to flee from their pursuers.

“Bestia reared on her hindlegs,” Blake described, “desperate to protect her princess from the selfish men who dare threaten her. But as she lunged towards Lord Segan…”

Blake’s voice halted in her throat as she was met with a startling realization. She remembered reading this story before, and the ending was the very opposite of happy. She recalled how Bestia soon dies from the arrow of a guard hiding among the tree tops, forcing Mirana to surrender to the royal guard and be dragged back to her palace. This time without her dear pet.

“Blake, you ok?” Ruby’s weak voice interrupted her inner turmoil. “I wanna know what happens."

“Y-yes. Sorry, I just lost my place is all.”

Blake straightened her posture. There was no way she was going to disappoint Ruby with this tragic story. There was only one thing she thought she could do.

Well, lets hope my improv skills are as good as my narrating skills.

“Bestia tackled him, growling mere inches from the Lord’s petrified face…”

To Blake’s surprise (and relief) she found her own version of the story coming to her quite easily. Rather than being captured, Mirana managed to mount Bestia and fight her way out of the ambush. Soon the duo made their way deeper into the forest and were met with a family of manticores. Moved by Bestia and Mirana’s acts of selfless bravery to protect the other, the manticores blessed Bestia with her own pair of wings so that they may have an easier time fleeing from unwanted intruders.

“…With her new pair of wings, Bestia and Mirana flew off together, free to travel the world where none may spy on them. And they both lived long, happy lives. The end."

Blake glanced up from her phone to see Ruby’s reaction, only to be met with soft snores and a sleeping form, complete with a trail of drool connecting Ruby’s mouth to her red pillowcase.

Blake covered her mouth as she tried to stifle a laugh. She couldn’t have imagined a more “Ruby” way of falling asleep no matter how hard she tried. She figured however, this was her queue to move out to the sofa out in the living room.

As Blake gathered her things, her eyes once again fell on Ruby’s sleeping form. A strange, fuzzy feeling welled up inside her as she continued to gaze at the adorable (albeit snotty) girl in front of her.

Before she gave herself the chance to think twice about it, Blake made her way over to Ruby’s side, brushing aside her mess of red hair in order to place a gentle kiss against her temple.

“Sweet dreams, Ruby."

A/N: Sorry this is so late askldfnkjsabf I really wanted to get this out before the day ended uwu

#rwby #ladybugweek2k19 #rwby ladybug #blake belladonna #ruby rose #ladybug #my writing

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hyakunana · 5 years

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Day 7: Free Day!

Did I ever mention about a fic draft I had since October? Because about that... 8)

Kisses

Summary: The first was an accident, the second an experiment, the third a challenge, and he kept track of all of them.

Words: 2345

Notes:

Special thanks to @nemirutami for editing this fic! <3

I wanted to post it on ao3 too, but I don’t have an account and my email is on queue to get an invitation, so I’ll be late there. orz

I hope you like it!

Their first kiss was an accident.

Tuesday was supposed to be just another afternoon exploring Mementos. It had become routine already, no big threats, a lot of bumps, a few treasure chests, some requests to fulfill, shadows blocking their way… just another day.

Until a badly executed curve abruptly threw everyone to one side of the car. And the two guys in the backseat just happened to be facing each other in that one instant.

It had almost gone by unnoticed, since the girls were too busy complaining about the driver and Mona to mind them. But for some cursed reason, their minds decided to register the very moment their lips clashed.

It was too fast to process any taste, too light because their masks were in the way - and it hurt -, but the mortified expression from the punk was printed in the painter’s memory, and that touch alone would disturb the both of them for the following nights to come.

Their second kiss was an experiment.

What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii. Or so they say.

It was with that thought that the blond invited his eccentric friend for a walk around the city. No one they knew was around. Everybody seemed too excited to make the last day on beach count, since it was unlikely for another chance like this one to appear.

Perhaps the fact that the boys were so different and distant, yet managed to become teammates and friends, was what allowed them to trust each other enough to conceal their doubts and curiosity.

That wouldn’t be their first time together.

The kiss was chaste, but now, deliberated. Their moist lips pressed lightly against the other, chilly on their flushed skin and warm breaths. Gawky fingers mindlessly brushed against tender palms, looking for some small ounce of support. It only took a second, but the turmoil they had been feeling inside was dissolved, like butterflies fluttering away.

They promised to not talk about it again and forget what happened. But the smile the vulgar boy had on his lips proved impossible to ignore.

That promise was doomed to be broken.

Their third kiss was a challenge.

It was like a silent, secretive game the two teens were playing, and the reward was the jolts of satisfaction whenever they exchanged affection without anyone else noticing. Every glance was a calling for the other, each time the troublemaker bit his lower lip, he meant “wait a minute, I’m coming.”, and in reply, the taller brushed his dark hair behind the ear, “I am waiting.”.

They stood next to each other more frequently, and the closer they got, the more they teased. A hand hovered on the other, a leg leaned against another under the table, shoulders nudged for attention, wishing for some contact, and small murmurs were exchanged in whispers.

It happened in Mementos again - a moment of distraction when the group found a locked treasure chest - when Skull tugged Fox’s sleeve and took a chance. It was as fast as they expected it to be; more like a face clumsily pushing against another as quickly as possible, and it wasn’t enough to cease their desires.

But it was something Ryuji was proud of stealing.

* Their fourth kiss was an answer.

The two friends could keep pretending they didn’t know the meaning behind their caressing exchanges, feeding their needs with small hidden touches and excuses to stay close, fooling themselves that what they did was nothing more than curiosity and self-satisfaction. It was a fun game for them, and a somewhat comfortable one.

But they would never learn how it felt to have more than that.

Instead, Yusuke found himself holding Ryuji’s hand, leaning against the diner’s narrow corridor wall as they watched a sudden storm strike down right when they were about to leave.

They still agreed on keeping their exchanges a secret from others to avoid unnecessary attention, but when a cold wind blew into the corridor, the idea of being discreet escaped their minds. The athlete instinctively jumped in front of him, using his free arm to block the rain. Drops of water ran down Ryuji’s trembling chin as he laughed and looked up at his boyfriend to close the distance, humming.

“Not the ideal first date, huh?”

* Their seventh kiss was a step forward.

They hadn’t been alone like that since the diner, and the safety of Ryuji’s home gave them the freedom to experiment to their heart's content. It was just a matter of time until little teases and caresses became more intimate. They took it slow, letting lips meet again, relaxing as their touches became more familiar, and tasting the flavor of the beverages they both had just minutes ago. Warm tea coated lips brushed softly against cool coke coated ones, pecking them a few times while Yusuke’s slender fingers stroked the blond’s face, and then slipped behind his head to pull him closer and kiss him even deeper.

Soon, lips weren’t enough, and they pulled each other into embraces and new stirring touches. Naughty hands slid down their bodies, exploring the other’s skin and tracing muscles, provoking gasps and more kisses. Noses and teeth got in the way, and the teens laughed when it happened. But they kept going, and they got better.

Their kiss couldn’t go on forever though. At some point, both had to pull back to catch their breath. It was only then that Ryuji realized the current situation: He was lying on the couch, with Yusuke straddling on his lap. The mangas they were reading before were scattered on the floor, the sketchbook that was carefully placed on the couch’s arm got kicked away…

and he heard his mother arriving home.

“Ah! Sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.” Haru squeaked when she caught their twelfth kiss.

Maybe they really should stop trying their luck, now that the group got bigger. Just maybe.

At least she kept it secret from the rest.

As if the others had never noticed it.

Their twenty-sixth kiss was a lull.

Yusuke sensed distress in his partner. He was even louder than usual. He tapped his foot and shrugged more often, he leaned against his chair so much he almost fell down twice, he read the same manga page three times over before proceeding, he made up excuses to just touch his boyfriend even more even if his hands were sweating cold.

He kissed Ryuji to shut him up, caressing his cheek to calm him down, and held his hand to give him some reassurance. It took a while to feel the torment inside the other slowly subside, his tense lips finally relaxing and his face tilting against Yusuke’s soft palm. When their lips parted, he gently leaned on the shorter’s forehead to confess one thing.

“I’m scared as well.”

Their thirty-seventh kiss was eager.

Tomorrow was the big day. Their target had been called out publicly, thus there was no turning back - not that they’d ever do it. However, as much as they prepared for it, no confidence could calm down their anxiety.

They could feel it in every touch, how rough hands quivered, grabbing the other fiercely to steady them, how Yusuke wrapped tight his arms and legs around the toned body, seeking safety, how Ryuji swore more often and louder under his breath, and how he instantly relaxed after humming his lover’s name.

The smell of the rainy breeze mixed with their steamy puffs, and the drops hitting the window didn’t match the sound of hearts drumming in their chests. Desirous lips smacked ferociously, getting side tracked to trail smooches across the jaw and neck to recover some air.

Their presence gave them some peace of mind, but restlessness only became stronger.

At some point, Yusuke broke the kiss again for another breath, and took this moment to gaze at Ryuji, admiring the way the dim light from the city illuminated his partner - he wanted to memorize everything, his short messy hair, the glossy brown eyes, the red spots on his neck down to collarbone, his flushed smile, and how his lips moved to form the phrase the artist heard for the first time.

“I love you, Yusuke.”

Their thirty-ninth kiss tasted like salt and fear.

Yusuke could feel his teammates around, shouting worried and powerless. One voice called out Ryuji’s stupidity and recklessness. A quiet mumble regretted the decision of going this far, another yelled in frustration, blaming and cursing their target, while someone else called an emergency. He also could feel a hand stroking his back, an attempt to soothe his mind, in vain.

The painter couldn’t focus on anything except his lover’s unconscious body. Faltering arms enveloped and carefully pulled Ryuji closer, nesting the blond head on his chest, and hoping for this to be just some cognition or a bad taste prank. He pecked his forehead, cheeks, lips, ear, whispered comfort, love words, asking to wake up and not abandon him, that they all needed him, anything to get some reaction.

But there was nothing.

On the following days, their kisses tasted like paper and memories.

The last kiss was followed by a goodbye.

It was a simple, fast, but tender touch, enough to recall all the sensations that it brought back. The taste of his skin, the breath against his cheek, the smacking sound of their lips parting, the soft squeeze in his hand, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach…

Yusuke missed it. He missed it so much, he missed him too much. The thought of losing someone again was too dreadful, and no one could guess the kind of damage his mind had suffered, or if it left any brain damage.

But Ryuji was here, looking up with the most loving gaze and his always cheerful smile. A vision the painter wished to witness forever. “See you tomorrow, babe.”

And for now, that was all that mattered.

“Is this for me…?” Ryuji held his present with a care, something that was rare coming from him.

“Yes. I want you to have it.” Yusuke explained, gently. “It’s not much. Most of them are quick sketches, but I drew them thinking of you.”

“What do you mean ‘not much’!? You filled the whole notebook!!”

“Not entirely. I ripped out the pages I was unsatisfied with.”

“Oh, so there was MORE!?”

The punk flushed as he leafed through the sketchbook, noticing that all of them were indeed scribbled. He could see himself clearly in some pages, smiling, posing or fighting, and recognize places they’d visited together before. Leblanc, the Diner, Okiburo, his house, even Mementos appeared a couple of times. A few of them depicted only hands touching in different ways, others depicted… things, like a curious sketch of a cup of tea and a glass of coke.

As much as he loved Yusuke, understanding his artistic views was a challenge. Still, even in the most confusing sketches, he could sense some familiarity, as if they were tickling his memories and making him giggle. Perhaps it was just the fact the artist mentioned before that those sketches were all done thinking of him.

Another page made him stop and burst into laughter.

“Hahahaha!!! What!? Damn! Is this Haru!? Why is she here!? Did she see it!?”

“Yes, she did.” The companion chuckled, amused by his reaction. “I drew this on the day she caught us. You could say it’s a small token of appreciation for not calling us out.”

“Hahaha! Yeah, true. That’s a good one, thou-” a sudden realization crossed his mind. “Wait a minute. These sketches… did you draw all of these since we started dating…?”

“I believe even before that.” Yusuke rubbed his shoulder, averting his eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you since our first incident in Mementos. It was bothersome.” He didn’t hear his boyfriend wowing, offended. “So I began to draw it to relieve my mind, and I found myself enjoying picturing you. You have an energy and passion that I wanted to replicate in my art, and a distinct beauty that is… hard to see at first glance. But once I opened my eyes and accepted it, I was captivated. In no time, I had fallen for you.”

The bedridden lost his words, cheeks flushing even redder than before, and soon he was laughing again. They had been dating for just a few months, but the way the painter’s thoughts were spoken was so charming and honest that it always struck him by surprise.

Ryuji flipped back to the first page again, this time, imagining a flustered Yusuke sketching it, probably fighting against his own heart rather than the shadows, and creating that chaotic first piece. Yes, that was definitely Mementos. Is that a skull silhouette?

“T-That’s effin’ cheesy, man!”

“You don’t like it…?”

“I loved it!! Hahahahahahaha!!”

In a certain way, the troublemaker related with those feelings. He remembered how disturbing those nights after the Mementos incident were, when his dreams only recalled that kiss and reimagined how it could be if they kept going. The more he tried to avoid thinking about it, the worse his dreams became. Little did his past self know how far they would go, and how happy they were because of it.

His laugh slowly fades, and brown eyes rest on his lover again, contemplating the present. His body didn’t have a notion of how long he slept, but it felt like an eternity.

“You know… Thanks…” the blond offered his hand to Yusuke, who gently took it so he could place a kiss on his knuckles. “Anyway, I’m guessin’ you got a fresh new sketchbook, now that you’re givin’ me this?”

“You guessed right. I just bought it before coming here.”

Ryuji brushed Yusuke's hair back behind his ear, hands caressing his face on their way down his cheek. A cheeky grin was drawn on his pale, pink lips.

“So… Do you wanna start fillin’ it in now?”

#persona 5 #ryuji sakamoto #yusuke kitagawa #ryukita #ryukitaweek2019 #p5 #persona #fanart #fanfic #warning: super cheesy bullshit fhodsifhos #also it has been months and i still piss myself on 'is a step forward' fjgsids #ok now that im on tags and only the chosen ones will actually read them #I. AM. RLY. NOT. USED. ON. WRITING. SO I RLY RLY RLY HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT BC I HAVE ZERO CONFIDENCE FDOGJDO #i prefer making comics than fics bc im terrible doing descriptions #so i prefer drawing them than all the effort of writing lmao #the reason this one became a fic is exactly bc i had this idea that i couldn't just translate into a comic #it's not one well constructed scene but a bunch of not detailed ones in a timeline that crossed my mind

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seonfhwa · 5 years

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💞💕💞💝 i was waiting for the test to begin and i was texting my friend because i was hella nervous and if i'm not talking to someone before tests i usually get overly stressed and then she sent me that picture of the newt quote ya know worrying means you suffer twice and it's my fave quote like ever and she said she saw it on your blog so thank you for being there for me in my time of need even if it was indirect afwgej 💕

you’re meaning to tell ne my all time favorite quote by the most charming man in all of the harry potter series helped you get through your test? you know, it may have been indirectly, but i’m glad my queue dumped that out today. you deserve it, and i’m glad you saw it and were thinking of me 😊💕

#answered #anett 🍥#lbr im always thinking of you #im rlly glad it helped tho!!

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lookingforodysseus · 6 years

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The Usual

A/N: SO, I usually don’t post stuff like this, but the wonderful @startrekkingaroundasgard had a 2K writing challenge about tropes and no one had taken the coffee shop AU yet, which I thought was a shame and a disaster, so here we go. Hope you enjoy :D

Tony had always thought he would despise working in the service industry. Given the amount everyone around him complained about it, he had expected he would be trying to commit harakiri with a milk frother within the week, since whatever Hades had in store for him would be less bad than dealing with one more person who pronounced cappuccino wrong.

And yet, now that he's here, he's enjoying himself. The coffee shop, called Impresso Espresso (insert forced laughter here), is across from a college campus, so most of his customers are caffeine-addicted students, hands shaking and eyes wide open from either too much Redbull or too much cocaine (it's a toss up at this age, really) and their professors, with under-eye bags so large they can put all the assignments they still have to mark in them, leaving their hands free for a carton cup with seven shots of espresso. Tony enjoys winking at all of them and trying to make them laugh, every smile a reward better than the free coffee that comes with the job.

During the classic afternoon lull, when the students are in bed and the professors in class, Tony puts the mechanics degree that put him deep in debt but didn't provide him with a job due to his well-meaning but obnoxious demeanour to good use by upgrading the ancient coffee machines, that were apparently purchased in the late seventies, max- or maybe modern technology just isn't as great as people often make it out to be.

Tony's manager, Matt, captain of the American football team who likes his coffee like he likes his math problems, simple, watches this thirty-something man become increasingly comfortable in a coffee shop populated mostly by those ten years younger or older than him with a mix between amazement and amusement. Besides, the coffee machines, that previously took ten minutes of gentle conversation with an increasingly impatient customer to create something as simple as a cup of tea, can now whip up a doppio in a record-holding 17.8 seconds, according to Tony. To Matt, it just feels like approximately 20 seconds, but, apparently, the exact time is of great importance to Tony, who, one night during midterms season when the coffee shop is open 24/7 to accommodate all the students pulling all-nighters, calls Matt at 3 am to announce he has shortened this time to 17.7 seconds. Apart from that hiccup, though, Tony is a good employee and Matt is satisfied.

On a dreary Thursday in February, one of the other baristas asks Matt: "Have you seen the professor around, lately? I feel like it's been awhile since we've had a queue of 20+ people- do you think he's ill?"

Matt smiles. "Don't worry about him, he's at a conference. He told me about it last time he was here, right before he told me off about not stirring his coffee correctly, or putting too much syrup in it. I'm not sure what it was that time, but it was clear he wasn't happy."

The barista laughs. "Is he ever?"

Tony, who is leaning on the counter, watching the students run by, text books over their head, more concerned with protecting their haircut than the $200 the book cost them, hears the comment. "Who are you talking about?" he asks, intrigued.

"Just this crazy customer who comes here a lot," Matt says. "He teaches something very scientific and complicated, and his order is absolutely ridiculous. You should be glad you're first month here has coincided with a four-week conference in Silicon Valley he had to go to. He's a nightmare."

Tony laughs. "Oh come one, he can't be that bad."

Matt rolls his eyes at the other barista, pulling off her apron now that her shift has ended. She waves at the two men behind the bar before exiting the coffee shop, the door being held open for her by a customer just about the enter the shop.

The customer enters the cafe, his eyes gliding over the neon Impresso Espresso sign behind the counter like he is disappointed still no one has realised what a horrible idea it was to put it there. Behind Tony, Matt sighs. "That'll teach me to speak of the devil. That's him, the professor. You take him, you've never had to suffer through his demands."

Tony steps up to the register just as the man reaches the counter. He is wearing thick, black glasses that almost completely hide his grey eyes. The top button of his checkered shirt is undone, but it doesn't look on purpose, more like he just forgot there was another button before he finished dressing himself. His large, black cardigan is wrapped around his body like a blanket. He is younger than Tony expected, for a professor being invited to month-long conferences. He also doesn't look like someone who has an order complicated enough to make his colleagues this bitter (pun intended).

When the man opens his mouth to place his order, Tony expects the other employees to have pulled a prank on him, expects the man to just order a black coffee, and maybe, maybe, make a joke about the colour of his soul. Instead, he hits Tony with this beauty of a coffee order: "I would like a latte, but instead of only milk, I would like half milk half hot water. The milk should be equal parts almond and coconut, with an extra dash of soy. Stir that exactly two and a half times clockwise. Then, add in a full glass of skimmed milk, that has been frothed for exactly 12.5 seconds, shake it up with ice, pour half of the drink out, and heat the other half up again, which needs to be stirred twelve times anti-clockwise at a temperature of 63 Celsius or 145.4 Fahrenheit. Take it off the heat at 98.7 Celsius or 209.67 Fahrenheit. I would like three and a quarter pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, seven packets of sugar, two pumps of caramel syrup, make sure to add that in after the sugar, otherwise you ruin the taste, and .4 pump of hazelnut. Then, I would like some cocoa powder, pour the coffee in with ice and shake it up again. I would also like whipped cream on top, but then please shave it off again, so there's only a little bit of whipped cream left. Pay with card, please."

Tony's mouth falls open. "You're kidding!" he exclaims. Behind him, he hears Matt snicker. The man begins to explain the importance of each individual step to the flavour of the beverage, but Tony interrupts him: "That's my order!"

A smile forms on the man's face, grey eyes sparkling. "Finally, someone with good taste around here," he says, giving Matt, whose jaw has slammed through the floor of the coffee shop and is currently making its way to the centre of the earth, a side eye. "You'll know the crucial timing of the stirring, then."

Tony nods. "Of course, of course," he says, with a stern face, fully aware of how important these things are. One of the reasons he had decided to start working in a coffee shop was that he would finally be able to make this order perfectly for himself. He can't believe another person with a brain as small as a human's has been smart enough to realise this order is the only way coffee is anything near drinkable. "Name?"

"Bruce," the man answers, and Tony hits the buttons on the register to allow the man to pay for his drink, even though he believes that thinking like that should be rewarded with a free coffee, before writing Bruce on the cup in his squiggly handwriting.

A solid twenty minutes and 27 grumbling people in line behind Bruce later, Tony presents the coffee with a flourish Shakespearean actors would be jealous of, putting a lid on the take-away cup before sliding it across the counter towards Bruce. "Oh, I don't need a lid," Bruce says, and pulls on the lid. However, in his enthusiasm, Tony has pressed down a bit harder than was fully necessary, and, no matter how much Bruce pulls, the lid is not giving way.

Tony snickers. "Well, someone's got muscles that would give the Hulk a run for his money."

Bruce laughs, too, and pushes the cup back towards Tony. "Can you do it?" Tony easily takes of the lid and slides the now lidless cup to Bruce. With a smile and a nod of his head, Bruce exits the coffee shop.

Over the next week, Bruce comes back twice a day, once in the early morning, and once for a pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon. Tony learns his schedule quickly enough, and ensures he arrives a bit too early and leaves a bit too late for his shifts, so he can be there to make Bruce's coffee. He doesn't ask for the man's name anymore, instead scribbling Hulk, No Lid on his cup, something that amuses Bruce, which is only indicated by the sparkle in his eyes when he reads it. Most of Bruce's emotions seems to be conveyed through his eyes, and Tony starts making subtle alterations to his order depending on the look in them- an extra shot of coffee if they're especially tired, some more syrup when he's looking down, and some extra milk when Bruce's eyes are dull, in replacement for Tony's wish to put his hand on his stubbled cheek and his lips against his forehead to soften the pain he sees hiding behind the grey clouds in Bruce's irises. He knows Bruce notices, when his eyes regain some of the sparkle Tony had seen that first time they had met after he takes his first sip, thanking Tony with a simple nod of the head and a half-smile, which Tony cherishes more than the few coins Bruce drops in the tip jar whenever he visits the shop.

They talk every time, sharing jabs and ideas, words and looks, until Matt has had enough of it. One particularly rainy afternoon in March, he punches Tony's arm in a way that's soft for a quarterback such as Matt, but hard for a skinny 5'9 guy like Tony, and he has to take a side step to prevent himself from falling against one of the coffee machines.

"When are you finally gonna do something about that, man?" Matt asks. Tony raises an eyebrow, innocence painted on his face. It's as much of a forgery as most of Da Vinci's paintings, though, and Matt knows it. "You kids have been flirting under my nose for over a month now," he continues, ignoring the fact that both of the men he's talking about are at least ten years older than he is. "You need to make a move, dude. Now!"

Tony gestures at the window, where Bruce can be seen crossing the street to the college campus, coffee in his hand. "He's gone, Matt," he says. "What do you want me to do? Go after him?"

Matt nods enthusiastically. "That's exactly what you should do! Run after him, ask him out! Don't be such a wimp!" He pulls Tony's apron over his head and pushes him towards the door.

Tony struggles against Matt's indisputably superior physical strength. "I never took you to be such a romantic," he says. "Might harm that cool image you've got going on."

Matt snickers. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Tony," he says, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tony through it with the other. "Now, go!"

With not much other choice, Tony runs across the road, waving at the sleek black car that almost hit him, driven by an extremely annoyed-looking red haired woman who seems to have half a mind to simply step on the gas and run him over. He makes it across the street in one piece though, and yells: "Bruce!"

The other man is so shocked by someone yelling his name that he promptly drops his coffee cup. He spins around, hands risen next to his head as if showing he has no weapons. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and his navy blazer darkens where the rain hits him, since he isn't wearing a coat. Neither is Tony himself, he realizes, now that the rain is making his white T-shirt quickly turn see-through. "It's just me," Tony says.

"Oh, yes. Did I forget something?" Bruce pets the pockets of his blazer.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I eh… I…" He has always been a man of words, but now, faced with a nervous, drenched professor whose coffee is spilling all over the pavement between their feet, he doesn't know what to say. "Can I buy you a new coffee?" he asks, hating the clenched way his voice comes out of his mouth. "Maybe we could, you know, talk. Somewhere else than in there." He gestures at Impresso Espresso, where Matt is grinning broadly behind the windows. "Somewhere he can't see us."

Bruce smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, and Tony has to resist the urge to run back and high-five Matt. "That would be nice. There's a decent place just up the road." He gestures in a vague direction, and Tony isn't sure which road he's indicating, but he doesn't care. He would follow this man to a coffee shop three cities over, if he really had to.

When they walk into the shop, water forms small pools by their feet, and a single, bored barista is leaning over the counter. The neon sign behind her reads Cool Beans Coffee Bar. Bruce sighs. "Do all coffee shops have those?"

Tony laughs. "Federal law requires it. That's top secret, though, don't tell anyone."

Bruce mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, and, grinning, the two men step up to the counter. Tony eyes the other man. "The usual?"

Bruce nods. "The usual."

#nicolas2k #the avengers #tony stark #bruce banner #fanfiction

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animosus-blog1 · 5 years

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!!! grey the amount of love and understanding you have for newt is outstanding and honestly your portrayal has made me fall in love with this nerd even more than i already was. you delve deeper into who he is and how he works, and the fact that your hcs are only backed by canon further proves that you're incredible and i love writing with you across my way too many blogs

beep beep ❈ ― @seapromised

this is what kills the grey

hi i’ve gotten really emotional every time i’ve looked at this since you sent it and i just wanna say thank you sm bc god... this is really encouraging ;u; ♡

#seapromised #❇ ― 〈 owl post 〉 asks: ooc.#❇ ― 〈 like gold to a niffler 〉 saved.#'across my way too many blogs'#binch do u think i have room to judge #lmfao gohan i love u sm ♡♡♡#❇ ― 〈 worrying means you suffer twice 〉 queue.

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fandomflail · 7 years

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title: Recognition (6/8)

rating: M

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: *screams at Tumblr* I queued this for Friday 10 pm but the queue at my post! Sorry for the delay, you guys.

Past Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) or AO3

RECOGNITION CHAPTER 6

Killian Aearinön had lived a life of strife, despite being Noble born. Of course, his older and wiser brother, William Beriothien, would often comment that said strife was a result of his own actions and self-recrimination. Liam, as Killian called him, wasn’t wrong.

“What was the instruction?” his brother asked, brow furrowed with worry.

Liam worried too much. Between his bride, Elsa Arendelle, and Liam’s own tendency for anxiety and worry, it was a wonder the two functioned at all. Unlike the humans, who suffered more from physical maladies than psychological ones, elves were far, far more susceptible to injuries of the brain.

If they weren’t dying of childbirth, Killian mused, they were running Nightlock into their blood for a quick death.

“Killian!”

Giving his brother his focus, Killian said, “For her own safety, I delivered the instruction as The Sukrasa said. Remain human to those who know her as human, reveal her as an elf to society, with the story that she was simply living in secret. No mention of halves.”

Liam strode closer, blue-grey eyes delivering a piercing gaze. “And she can be trusted?”

Killian felt his temper rise. “Of course she can!”

“You don’t actually know her, brother. A consummation does not a soulmate make,” he said, pacing the length of the mahogany table that stood as the centerpiece.

“I know enough to know she can be trusted. As can the other three.”

“You have no idea what sort of danger you’ll unleash if word gets out, I mean it, Killian. This is serious. For once, please take this seriously.”

“I know that! I’m not a youngling, Liam. Stop treating me like one.”

“Perhaps if you —“ his brother cut himself off, swallowing whatever insulting thing he had been about to say, and said instead, “I am glad you’re back to high society. Things have changed, and they have not. You’ve lived with humans for a total of what? 150 years now? You’ve adopted some of their…mannerisms, and not in a flattering way.”

“Yes, like when people annoy them, they tell them to bugger off.”

“Now that’s just rude.”

Killian flipped him an obscene human hand motion.

“You’ve been tight-lipped about this Emma. If she’s a lost child, her parents are sure to be looking for her.”

He nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. “I checked; there was no missing report of an elven girl matching her age or appearance.”

“Hmm. Come to think of it, that makes sense. If she’s a hybrid, they’d have wanted it kept hush. Plus, she’s Nysnian; it’s not like those elves have ever trusted us.”

“I don’t know if she even wants to find them. This whole thing has been overwhelming for her; she’s been using the ignore-it-until-it-goes-away strategy. With her heritage, with me.”

Killian was unsuccessful in keeping the bitterness out of his voice. He dropped his gaze to the little decorative windmill on the table, spinning its blades to distract himself.

“Well, she’s still coming later, isn’t she? That’s a start.”

“Only to the Embassy. I don’t want her meeting the serpent. Who knows what she’d say to her. Wait does she even know that I Recognized…”

“Stop calling her that. Of course she does. It’s just within the family, you’re safe.”

“That’s a relief, though who knows who she’s hissssssssed to.”

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, I’ll be there.”

“What???”

“Oh yes, you really think I’d miss meeting your soulmate? My little brother’s Recognized half?” Liam’s smirk was unbearable, his posture so casual he could only be faking it.

“You’re the worst elf in the history of elves, I hope you know.”

“Stop being dramatic. I invited Belle, to make Emma and her son feel comfortable. Belle is the human equivalent of a library, and she is Head of the B.E.A.S.T. I can truly think of no one else as perfect to fill in the blanks about our culture.”

“This was supposed to be a quiet tea,” Killian huffed.

Liam shook his head, no doubt judging Killian as a child, despite the fact that their age gap was a mere 10 years. A single petal difference in a forest bloom, but to hear Liam tell it, one would think Killian was an infant human, and Liam a wise old sage. It was maddening.

“Do you think this could work?” Liam asked after pouring himself a cup of fresh honey tea.

His perpetually concerned face was soft, curly blonde hair kept in place by the ice-inspired circlet he often wore to honor Elsa. Maddening though he may be, Liam was the best brother an elf could ask for. The look on his face mirrored the look he had when Killian had fallen out of a tree, breaking his bones in three places; as if this whole endeavor was the same sort of dangerous recklessness he’d exhibited as a youngling.

“I believe so. I chose to live as a human for Milah. I loved her. I always will. But Emma, Emma is different. This is different.”

“Killian…I’m sorry to suggest this but… do you suppose this thing with Emma is simply a matter of chemistry, rather than a matter of heart?”

There was an almost visceral need to defend his feelings, an anger so swift he could’ve wrung his hands around his brother’s neck. He fought the impulse, forcing himself to truly consider his brother’s question. After all, he had, in those early hours, had the same questions.

It felt like a betrayal to confess his heart, especially about the first few hours following his introduction with soulmate, but this was Liam. Who could he truly trust, if not him?

“I hated it, at first. She ran, twice that day. She made it clear that her actions were the effect of the Recognition, and not for any real desire to know me. She didn’t seem as affected as I did. I thought…I thought maybe I hallucinated it.”

“You checked with The Sukrasa,” Liam reminded him.

“I know. But a half-elf? That’s a myth and propaganda people like Her Highness, Snake Queen Consort, tell to fear-monger elves about the Bad Things That Happen When We Mix With Humans.”

“Killian,” Liam warned, tone infused with a world of warning. He ignored the rebuke about their step-mother.

“You know that’s what she thinks, even if she isn’t forthright about it. Anyway, it was highly possible that they had mixed her blood and Henry’s. Full or half elf, I thought I was going crazy, except it’s impossible to ignore that feeling.”

“What was it like?”

“I told you, remember, when you said we should just put the Trace on her and be done with it.”

“Actually, what you told me was, and I quote, I’m dying Liam, I’m dying. Hardly descriptive.”

Killian rolled his eyes, moving to swipe his brother’s mug for a sip.

“It’s a burning sensation, like the skin under your skin is on fire. You can’t scratch it. Your throat feels like you’ve been screaming for years, but no amount of water quenches it.”

Liam watched him with wide eyes. For the first time, Killian felt like he was being taken seriously. Figured.

“There’s a ringing in your ears, like you’ve stood next to a gong after it’s gone off. And the worst thing is�� well, you can relieve yourself as much as you want, but it hurts. The humans have a term for it, though I’m not sure why they use the color blue to describe it. Nor do I think they understand what exactly, it means for one to have ‘Blue Balls’”.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Yes, well.”

“So you can be happy with her? And her human child?”

“It would be too easy to fall in love with Emma Swan, Liam. Just wait till you meet her.”

“Sure, can’t wait.”

Killian ignored the slight sarcasm. His brother was a damn worrier.

* * *

Emma eyed the silver pears, Asiménia, a delicacy of the Nobles. While she usually, genuinely, enjoyed elvish food, this was awful. She did her best to school her expression, but she knew she was kidding no one.

Henry, through sheer teenage obstinacy, was scarfing down his food as though he liked the taste. No doubt, she thought wryly, because Gracie seemed to be genuinely enjoying it.

Across from her, Killian’s ears twitched in effort to choke down his laughter.

“So Emma,” Prince Liam said, lips tilted upwards in a smug smile, “how do you like the food?”

“It’s…” she said, grappling for the right word and coming up short, “interesting. Different from the ones served during the ball.”

“Oh yes,” Prince Liam said, while Killian glared at his brother, “this is a family delicacy. We’ve never had a Nysnian elf who has ever taken to it.”

“Oh, oh my, are you Nysnian, Emma?” Belle pipped up excitedly from her seat next to Henry.

Henry and Belle seemed to get on like a house on fire, going through hundreds of years of world history in the span of the few hours they had talked.

“Yes?” she replied, unsure why this was an issue. Her gaze landed on Killian, suddenly feeling like maybe this was a thing about herself she should know.

“Oh. I see it now, you have that dent in your chin and everything,” Belle said, craning her head to study Emma.

She squirmed under everyone’s attention, bringing another spoonful of Asiménia to her mouth, only to instantly regret it.

Elsa, the quiet blonde next to Liam, laughed. She had barely spoken to any of them, so Emma was a little surprised to find such open emotion from the elf.

“Truth be told, Asiménia is truly an acquired taste, don’t feel bad, Emma,” Elsa said.

“And it apparently tastes like this berry in Nysno, Marjaga, which is poisonous. Maybe that’s just your genetics that makes you dislike it,” Belle said, the petite human a seemingly endless sprout of knowledge.

“Belle,” Gracie cut in, seated primly across Henry and in-between Killian and her father, “will you tutor me in history?”

Jefferson’s head snapped up to his daughter, who was ignoring him in favor of staring down Belle.

Belle lit up like a Yule lantern, eyes rounding wide as Henry interjected “Me too!” and then remembering his manners, added on softly, “Please.”

“Of course. Oh, it would be such an honor. I would love the opportunity to hear you recite poetry as you did earlier. And sing. You have such a gift for it.”

“Thank you,” Gracie said with a smile, preening under the praise.

* * *

It was decided that they would stay for dinner, so the party adjourned to the study to continue their discussions.

Killian looked to be completely taken by Gracie.

His eyes kept darting to Emma, and she wondered if he was musing the same thing as her. Had it taken? She was in no ways prepared to be a mother, not like this, but watching Killian interact with the blonde haired, green-eyed elf child made picturing a future too easy.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted it. Having to deal with a situation like that would drive her into a panic. But until then, she figured she could allow herself to indulge in a little daydream.

Killian was seated on the lush carpet on the floor resting lightly by her knees, while Emma sat on the couch. She was tempted to run her fingers through his hair, but managed to stay the impulse. Next to him, Belle, Henry and Gracie made up the rest of the circle on the floor, while the other adults had left for something or other.

Despite her initial anxiety, and Prince Liam’s somewhat cool response to her, the day had been nice. In fact, seated where she was, Emma was feeling particularly content.

While Belle and Killian took turns to regale the children with tales of history and famous adventurous elves and humans, Emma found herself only half-listening.

The content wasn’t boring. On the contrary, she was learning a great deal about elves, but her full stomach and calm proximity to Killian made her rather sleepy. They had her full attention, however, when Henry asked why elves who were hundreds of years old looked like humans of 30 years.

“We develop slowly, lad,” Killian said, gesturing with his hand for Belle to interject with the prolix answer they all knew she had.

“You see, elvish biochemistry is very different from ours. Hormones are created slowly, the mechanisms more complex, the telomeres longer, much longer than ours.”

It was clear she was losing Henry, who hadn’t quite reached that chapter in school, but Belle continued, “They age pretty fast as younglings, which is why Gracie and you seem to be growing up at the same rate, but once she hits about 30, everything slows down. It’s also why parent-child relationships don’t have the same dynamic as human ones.”

“Aye,” Killian said, rubbing his jaw, “that’s true. You see, you could technically have a child at 30, but because both you and your child have an average lifespan of 800 years, you’re pretty much peers. But say, you have a child when you’re 350, and well, that’s a more similar human parent-child dynamic.”

“What if you Recognize when one person is 300 and the other is 30?” Henry asked.

Emma felt her face flame. Adopted though he may be, he was just as blunt and sly as she was.

Both Belle and Killian flushed, clearly under no pretense as to why the question was asked. `

“I’ll leave this one to you,” Belle said, looking at Killian, while Gracie giggled.

“Uh… um… well. Recognition is different. It’s two souls meeting as one. You will learn from each other of course, but as long as you respect each other, like any other healthy relationship, there should be no problem.”

“Good answer,” Henry praised, making Killian blush red.

“Henry!” Emma hissed.

Suddenly, she was struck with a thought of what he’d just said.

“Oh my god,” Emma gasped, as the realization hit her.

All of them turned as one to look at her.

“What is it, Emma?”

Heart beating rapidly in horror, she asked, “How long do elves have periods for? Because I’m not going to lie, I was looking forward to menopause. Now you’re saying I have to go through this torture for hundreds of years?”

“Oh ewww, mum, come on!”

“It’s part of life, Henry, I told you that,” she told her son distractedly as her gaze remained on Killian.

“Yeah, but that’s for when I’m like older. I don’t need to know that now.”

“Don’t even talk to me about you getting old,” she warned. Henry shut his mouth abruptly, no doubt remembering her breakdown about her outliving him still fresh in his mind from the week before.

Killian looked flustered, so it was Gracie who answered.

“We’ve evolved not to need that, actually.”

“ELVES DON’T HAVE PERIODS?!” Emma shrieked indignantly.

“I mean, we do,” Gracie corrected, brow furrowing, “it’s just, it’s not the same. You bleed once every 3 to 5 years, until you hit about 250. Then the body sets itself into what is called Henig Amatúlië. It’s basic epigenetics. And Recognition can trigger it later on. Like an on and off switch.”

“What she said,” Killian mumbled.

With an eyebrow arched, Gracie asked, “How do you not know this, Your Highness?”

“Just Killian, lass. And I do. I mean, not in as much detail as you do, of course.”

“Okay, can we change the topic now, please?” Henry begged.

Emma met Gracie’s gaze, the young elf rolling her eyes as if to say, men, no matter the species, all the same. Belle laughed, clearly entertained, as she diverted the conversation into some random fact.

* * *

Emma excused herself to freshen up a little while before dinner, only to be followed by Killian just as she reached the day room for guests.

“You’ve made it hard for me to get you alone,” he said, closing the door with a soft click.

“I was doing no such thing.”

“You’re simultaneously an enigma and an open book, my love,” he said.

Killian had a habit of dropping saccharine endearments into their conversations, and she didn’t know how seriously to take him. While it was hard to stop the warmth that stirred in her belly every time he used one on her, she told herself that perhaps, it was simply how he spoke, and did it to everyone. So she ignored it.

“How so?” she challenged.

“Our messages have gotten a little brazen, wouldn’t you say? Yet here you stand before me, skittish as a doe. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re only brave to admit to your desire when you have a distance.”

“Wow, that’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“Hardly, Swan,” he scoffed, “I think it’s right on the mark. You’re scared of me, scared I’ll let you down.”

“Just what the hell have you been speaking about with my son?”

“I didn’t have to ask Henry any of this to know it, Emma. Give me some credit. I didn’t pry.”

“You think you know me so well then? What about you?”

“What about me?”

She paused, considering him. Somewhere during their conversation, they had moved closer. It was like a disease, a constant pull towards him whenever they occupied the same space. She wanted, when he was nearby.

And while he seemed to read her easily, she couldn’t quite figure him out. That in itself, was scary. He was unpredictable, an unknown entity that already had too much hold on her heart. An elf who understood her and had ingrained himself in her family. He was too much.

“I’d say you’re scared too. I just don’t know what about.”

He shrugged, slowly bringing his hands to grasp hers.

“Well, if we’re going to be scared anyway, doesn’t make sense to do it alone, yes?”

“Killian…”

“Why are you making this so hard, Emma?”

She bit her lip, eyes roving across his face as she considered how truthful to be. He was beautiful, that was easy to see, but throughout the weeks, he had proven to be everything she had ever looked for in a man. Elf. Man. Same thing.

Sure, there were inklings of a temper and jealousy that she could see there, and perhaps he was more reserved and secretive than she was, but he had shown himself to be kind, considerate, funny and above all, had taken a genuine interest in her life and Henry’s.

He had gotten lunch delivered to her when she had complained about having to work over her break hour due to Ashley’s mess up; had tutored Henry on math via hologram the day before an exam; made her smile by sharing articles and pictures of cute animals with silly captions throughout the day; in short, he had stuck around, with no pressure for more, as promised.

He kept promises. She hoped that was true. She wanted to believe that.

“How would this even work?”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re an elf prince. You live in a royal place in Irska.”

“Actually,” he cut in, “I live in Alamané. In a penthouse overlooking the river. I write music and paint, and I sometimes sell those paintings.”

“Your brother hates me.”

“What? No. Liam is wary of you, but he is wary of everything.”

“No, pretty sure he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“Emma,” Killian said, looking at her in concern, “I’m not sure what the idiot did to give such an impression, but I promise you that is not it. Liam’s issues are with my choices, not you. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have launched an inquiry about your parents.”

She pulled her hands away from his.

“He did what?!”

Killian looked like he deeply regretted revealing that. Emma glared at him.

“The Sukrasa are… they are the guardians of the elves. Everyone has a file. Since that first night, they’ve been building yours. Liam looked at it. I didn’t. Told him he was overstepping.”

“Fucking right that’s overstepping,” she growled, crossing her arms.

“Yes, well, he’s got a different idea on what constitutes as help. Liam is big on family. It’s why he tolerates the mad witch.”

“The mad witch?”

“Father’s consort, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed sardonically.

“Liam may know a fact or two, but he doesn’t know the stories. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll get on with Elsa.”

“She seems rather frosty.”

“She’s the nicest. Too nice for my idiot brother, honestly. She just takes a little time to warm up.”

“Did they Recognize too?” she asked, uncrossing her arms.

“No. They chose each other.”

“What happens if they Recognize with someone else?”

“They still have the choice to keep choosing each other. Besides, elves aren’t nearly as prudish as humans. We’re a polyamorous species, which makes sense when you think about how long we live.”

“I don’t share,” Emma said, the words rushing out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Good,” he said, taking the passion behind her words as an invitation to step into her space, “because neither do I.”

Emma gulped, suddenly feeling short of breath. Killian kissed her forehead, lips lingering between her brows as he breathed her in.

“Are we doing this, then?” he whispered, arms coming around her to caress her sides.

“I…I just… I’ve got to do something first.”

He sighed, pulling back. “Fine, but don’t tell me you’re not avoiding this, us, me.”

He looked as if he was fighting his frustration, biting his lip and shifting his foot.

It shouldn’t have been, but was, terribly endearing. Running on instinct, Emma leaned in, going for a kiss.

Killian’s reaction was instantaneous; his lips parted, deepening the kiss, derailing the chaste peck she had been aiming for. She indulged in it for a moment, breathing him in, before pulling back.

“Be patient, Killian.”

“Sure, what’s another 300 years?” he muttered. His cheeks were a ruddy red.

“Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Liam’s enquiry…did…”

“No. Not yet. If there is, I’ll let you know.”

She placed another quick, tender kiss on his cheek and then turned and walked to the water-closet, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She heard a faint murmuring, not being able to catch his words, as she washed her face and took in her own flushed complexion.

You’ve played yourself, Swan.

* * *

In hindsight, staying for dinner had been them, overstaying their welcome. They’d barely finished the hors d’oeuvres when the Sukrasa announced Her Highness, Queen Consort Coraline was to be joining them.

The easy flow of the room vanished instantaneously, as Liam, Elsa and Killian sat up straight as if a tree branch had been inserted down their spines. Jefferson, who generally stayed away from elvish politics, looked discomforted by the prospect of the queen joining the table.

Gracie and Henry, clearly neither oblivious nor stupid, picked up on the change of demeanor of the adults and quietened down. Emma could think of no good reason why the queen would join them for a simple occasion of tea and dinner.

Beside her, Killian gripped her wrist. Emma had given up resisting him while she was in his presence, the need to connect and touch too strong to ignore for the sake of pride. They’d been discreetly hand-holding under the table for a while now, though neither had said a word about it.

The doors opened, and everyone stood. Killian dropped his hands from hers abruptly, as an elf in a blood red ballgown with dark hair in an up-do practically glided into the room.

Aside from the fact that she was over-dressed for the occasion, there was a sense of superiority about her that set Emma’s teeth on edge.

“Really, Killian, I must find out from the help that you’re hosting a dinner with someone who could potentially be joining the family?”

Her voice was clear and sharp, and despite the concern in her tone, Emma could tell it was more a reprimand than a desire to be included. She didn’t care about his response as her eyes zeroed in on Emma, who despite wearing an elvish-style dress, felt like she had been judged and came up lacking.

“Well, she’s pretty, at least. Small mercies. What is your name?” the queen demanded.

“Emma,” she answered, matching the no-nonsense tone.

The queen made a tsk. “I hear you’ve lived as a human your whole life, what a pity. But that’s no excuse for lack of propriety, my dear. I suppose we’ll have to see to your lessons about elvish court.”

She heard Liam cough, and saw Killian’s ears flush red.

“I think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Your Highness,” she said, looking the woman in the eye. “We’re here to honor Gracie, after all.”

“Yes, there’s really no need to be inundating the Lady Swan, is there, Queen-Consort?”

Clearly irritated by the title, her eyes flashed to Killian. She moved to the head of the table, sitting down and beckoning them to do the same.

“I told you, son,” she replied, tone saccharine sweet, “no need for such titles when you could call me mother.”

“Not a damn chance, thanks, Your Highness,” Killian answered with a smile.

God, this was exhausting. Killian, with teeth still bared at his step-mother, turned to Gracie.

“Gracie love, I present to you Her Highness, Queen Consort Cora. You should tell her all about your assignment about human-elf integration, I’m sure she would love to hear it. You and Henry make a great research team.”

Emma wondered who she ought to kill first - the Queen, if she made a disparaging remark about her son, or Killian, for bringing attention to him. It was sure to be a fun dinner.

* * *

It wasn’t a fun dinner.

As soon as it was polite, Jefferson excused himself and Gracie, with a look to Emma. Needing no impetus, she also excused herself, receiving no resistance from Henry, who had been asked twice what sort of history they studied in human schools.

The queen seemed to adore Gracie, constantly comparing her knowledge to that of Henry, making sure to note the differences in standards. Emma was two seconds away from throwing a fork through her eyes, but Gracie seemed to diffuse tension with the kind of grace befitting her name.

“Of course, it’s late. I would like a word alone with Miss Swan” the queen said, eyes glinting.

“Your Highness,” Liam interjected smoothly, “I’m afraid Miss Swan isn’t quite privy to all the protocols of court. Perhaps when we’ve—“

“I’m well aware, William. Now, my request stands. Please leave us.”

Jefferson, Henry and Gracie stood. Emma waved them off.

“Go on, Henry. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m staying,” Killian said, tipping his chair in an insouciant move. Emma ignored him. This power play was a family issue, and she did not want to be anyone’s pawn.

“Am man theled?” Queen Cora said to him in Elvish, leaving Emma clueless as Elsa and Liam rose.

“I am staying,” Killian repeated, clearly having no wish to explain his reasons.

Liam looked like he was about to say something, but Killian flashed him a look, posture screaming for this fight to be his. Liam said nothing, giving the queen a hard look before walking out and slamming the door.

“So hot headed, your brother. Just as you are,” she said, switching back to the common tongue. She shook her head at him disappointedly.

Having had more than she could bear, Emma snapped. “Fine, Your Highness,” she said, the title dripping like ooze, “I’m here. What did you want to say?”

“Very well, straight to business. You’re to remain discreet, Miss Swan. The less anyone sees and knows you, the better. You’re not to talk about your suspected parentage to anyone. And…” she pulled out a bottle from her pocket, “if you happen to find yourself with a…problem in your belly, this tea will solve it.”

Killian had grown progressively more irate as the woman had spoken. At her last words however, he growled, standing so abruptly the chair crashed to the floor.

“How dare you—“ he sputtered, stalking to her.

“Killian,” Emma called out sharply, never taking her eyes of the queen who seemed to be enjoying the bonus of watching her stepson rage, “this is my conversation.”

“As you pointed out, I’m uncultured in your bullshit rules of court. So let me tell you right now, that I don’t give a flying snapdragon about what you think of me. I sat down here and played nice while you barely tolerated my son, and now you’re asking me to abort a child I might have? I see why they call you a serpent, but it seems like a damn insult to the snakes.”

“How dare you speak to me that way, you insolent brat! You have truly no idea who you’re speaking to. No idea how I’m helping you. This is your one and only show of mercy, Miss Swan. Test me again, and you will deeply, deeply, regret it.”

Nostrils flaring, the queen strode away, the anger radiating from her an ancient thing. Perhaps if she had been anyone else, Emma might have been cowed, but she felt nothing but anger.

Just as she reached the door, she turned, eyes finding Killian.

“Ask your brother, he knows why I only meant to help,” she said, and then walked out through the antechamber. The door was shut heavily behind her.

“Amarth faeg! That fucking, no good, lousy viper! Pe-channas!” he snarled, picking a bowl and flinging it across the room. It shattered into dust, the fine glass completely disintegrated from the force.

“I should slit her throat where she sleeps.”

“Okay, whoah, calm down, Killian. I’m pissed too, but calm down with the murder.”

“Slitting her throat would be too merciful for someone like her,” he said darkly.

“What did she mean about ask your brother?” Emma asked, moving to pick up the vial she’d left behind.

Killian was shaking, his face red. He looked two seconds from throwing another bowl.

“Who knows? Probably something said to sow seeds of distrust.”

She held the vial of clear liquid up to her eye, swirling it this way and that. “No, she wasn’t lying. I could tell.”

“What are you doing with that?” he asked her instead, ignoring her remark.

“I don’t know.”

“Throw that away. Perhaps you should throw it there,” he said, indicating to where a dust of white lay to their right, “where it belongs.”

“Does it do what she said?”

His mouth dropped open, the look in his eyes one of betrayal. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t think I would. But I should have a choice!” She tossed the vial in the air and caught it.

“You do have a choice, but what am I? Does my opinion count for nothing?”

“Not if it’s my life on the line!” She growled at him.

“That’s fair, Emma, look I’ll respect your choice. But at least let us talk about it if it comes to that. And for the love of the universe, not by her methods. Who knows what poison is actually in that.”

Without a word, Emma swung her arm back, releasing the vial against the wall. It shattered, the liquid running down the sides of the wall.

“That felt good,” she said, grinning. “I pictured hitting the back of her head.”

Killian blinked at her, an unreadable look on his face, before he surged, crossing the distance and grabbing her by the waist. He kissed her soundly, pulling greedy kisses from her lips. She responded enthusiastically, channeling all her irritation and emotion into passion.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

“You’re a marvel, Emma Swan.”

“And you have some serious anger issues, but it’s also very, very sexy.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“That’s sweet, Killian, but I can fight my own battles.”

He smiled against her lips, kissing it briefly before pressing his nose to hers. “I don’t doubt it, but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I keep telling you.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

She pulled back far enough to look him in the eye.

“Henry told me an old saying. We’re only as strong as we are united.”

“Smart lad.”

“Yeah. I missed you. I could feel that…emptiness. I thought it was an after-effect of all that Recognition stuff…maybe it is, but I guess… I mean you asked why make this harder than it needs to be, and well, maybe you’re right.”

“I know exactly what you mean, my love. I’d rather not live like that, considering I now know what its like to have you in my arms. My heart no longer needs be empty. I know it won’t be easy, but we don’t have to get involved in any of the snake’s politics, we can just… be. Away from here. Work on this, us, together. Would you like that?”

“I suppose it’s good as any plan.”

He laughed, tweaking her nose. “That’s hardly a plan, but we’ll work on one. Henry is probably getting really impatient outside this door.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised he hasn’t barged in yet. Gracie is really good for his manners.”

Killian kissed her softly, a gentle peck of the lips, before reaching to grasp her fingers with his hand.

“And you’re really good for me. Come.”

please track tag ‘cs ff recognition’ for future updates:

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Shoutout to @mysecondmountain and @galadriel26 for all the comments and reblogs and for reading past fics and commenting on that too. You guys are rockstars ILU

#cs ff #cs fic #cs ff recognition #cs soulmate au #cs au #cs recognition

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hysterialevi · 7 years

Text

In the Smoke pt. 16 (Cobblebats)

From Bruce’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Waking up to the sound of birds chirping, I found myself bundled up in a tangle of blankets as I rubbed my eyes, blearily gazing around the dim room. It was only eight in the morning, and judging by the empty, cold spot next to me, Oz had taken his leave while I was asleep. I wasn’t surprised, exactly, but I had to admit that I was still a little disappointed.

And to be honest, Oz seemed a lot more...different...last night. I didn’t know if just dreamt the whole thing, or if it actually happened, but something about him was significantly more caring than usual. Like he was truly concerned for my safety. It wasn’t very often that I got to see his more human side, and the fact that he so openly showed it to me made me think something bad occurred. Well, whatever it was, I just hoped that Oz was all right.

Dragging myself out of bed, I trudged over to the wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt I grabbed before sluggishly making my way downstairs, the sound of the TV quietly breaking the silence. It was a cold and crisp morning, and after getting some well-needed rest, I felt much better compared to yesterday, even though some minor symptoms of the drug lingered.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I saw no sign of my father or Alfred--and actually--it looked rather empty in the manor at the moment. There was no light in the slim gap underneath the door to my father’s office, and I didn’t hear any other voices besides the ones coming from the TV. I guessed no one was home.

Well, maybe not no one.

Entering the living room, I found a man relaxing in the plush couch as he watched the TV, holding an all-too-familiar silver pistol in his hand.

“...Oz?” I called out. His head snapped towards me.

“Ah,” Oz stood up from his seat, placing the pistol on the coffee table, “g’morning, sleeping beauty.”

“You stayed.” I happily said, earning a somewhat bashful smile from him.

“Not for the whole night,” he quickly replied, almost like he didn’t want to admit that he was being kind for once. “I left for a second to see Lady Arkham after you fell asleep, but, uh...yeah. I came back. Didn’t want you to wake up alone, and all that.”

I looked around the manor. “What about my dad? And Alfred? They didn’t see you?”

He shrugged. “No one was here to see me when I returned. Though, I did overhear your dad talkin’ on the phone with someone before he left. Somethin’ to do with Falcone. Maybe they went to see him.”

I crossed my arms, scowling slightly. “He would, wouldn’t he? Even after telling me he wants to help this city.”

Oz solemnly brought his eyes to the family portrait. “And even after what happened with your mum, too.” He let out a sigh. “Some men never change, Bruce. No matter what. They just live out the rest of their lives as the same person, doing the same things, around the same people. Those men are dangerous.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. My father’s living proof of that. So are his ‘colleagues.”

Oz walked closer to me, holding my hand. “Well, they won’t be living proof for long. Lady Arkham’s told me that she has a new job for you. Something a lot bigger than what you did at the debate.”

I scoffed playfully. “You mean bigger than murdering Gotham’s mayor?”

Oz leaned in, grinning mischievously. “Better, too. You’re gonna help me take down Falcone. For good. I’ll give you the details later, back at HQ. Lady Arkham wants to discuss the plan personally with us. For now, let’s just enjoy the peace and quiet while we still can--”

As if on queue, the doorbell suddenly rang, causing Oz’s expression to flatten. I chuckled.

“You were saying?”

He gestured to a nearby hallway, starting to wander off. “I’ll be hiding there. You go on and greet your guest.”

Once Oz was completely out of sight, I hurried over to the front door, taking a second to straighten my shirt and wake up a bit before opening it, only to find the last person I wanted to see at the moment.

Harvey.

Shit. I mentally groaned. Why now? Out of all times to visit, why now?

“Harvey?” I said out of surprise, putting on my best fake smile.

The mayor was out of his typical, formal attire today, and wore a casual sweater instead, holding a small, paper bag in his hand along with a cup of coffee in the other.

“Hey,” Harvey replied shyly, blushing. “I--I brought breakfast. Can I come in?”

I worriedly glanced over my shoulder at Oz’s hiding spot.

“I, ah...don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Just for a minute,” he gently persisted. “I really need to talk to you. If you still want me to go, I’ll go. But I just have to get this out.”

I mindlessly bit my lip nervously, hesitantly letting Harvey inside. “...s-sure. Erm, thanks for the breakfast.”

“No problem,” Harvey placed the bag on the dining table. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

Purposely standing in front of the hallway Oz was hiding in, I tried to keep Harvey distracted.

“So um, what did you want to talk about?”

He exhaled tiredly. “Nothing too particular, actually. I’ve just been a bit...stressed out recently. Needed to see a friendly face, you know?” Harvey frowned a little. “I’ve also been a tad paranoid about...you.”

I quirked a brow. “Me?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of stupid, to be honest, but I guess I’m just worried that this,” Harvey gestured to his face, “might scare you off.”

I titled my head slightly, giving him an empathetic look. “I’m not gonna leave you because of one, little burn, Harv.”

He laughed softly. “It’s not really ‘little,’ but I still appreciate the thought--”

The man abruptly paused mid-sentence, his eyes gradually widening with every second as he stared behind me, frozen.

“Uh, Harvey?” I checked, dumbfounded. “You...you okay?”

He held out a shaky hand, pointing at the coffee table as I followed his line of sight. He was looking at Oz’s pistol.

“T-that gun,” Harvey breathed out. “I...I recognize it. I saw it at the debate. It belongs to Penguin!” He flicked his eyes back to me, bewildered. “Why do you have Penguin’s gun, Bruce? What is it doing here? Is he around!?”

Harvey’s more paranoid side jumped out again, just like when I spoke with him at City Hall, and he began pacing around the living room in fear, holding his head in his hands.

“No no no, no,” he rambled frantically, “not again, not again. Oh god, not again.”

I cautiously approached him, carefully laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Harvey, it’s all right,” I reassured. “You’re safe--”

“--Safe!?” He suddenly roared at me, his voice much lower and raspier than before. “I’m not an idiot, Wayne. Not like Harvey. I know Penguin’s here! And no one’s safe when he’s around! Where is that masked lunatic!? Tell me! I’ll rip him to shreds!”

“Harvey,” I repeated, “you need to calm--”

He violently snatched me by the collar, yanking me towards him until our faces were mere inches apart.

“TELL ME!”

“Hey!” Oz aggressively called out from the hallway, emerging from his hiding spot as he joined the scene. “Get your hands off him.”

Practically throwing me to the floor, Harvey averted all his attention to Oz as if I weren’t even there, smiling maniacally.

“Ah, and there he is,” Harvey began to prowl towards him. “Oswald. Cobblepot. The notorious Penguin. I should’ve known it was you. It all makes sense now. You’re going to suffer for everything you’ve done.”

Oz stood his ground. “You’d better get outta here, Dent,” he warned. “And fast.”

“Or what?” Harvey fired back. “Harvey won’t be pushed around anymore. No, he’s gonna make them pay! Everyone who thought they could hurt him and get away with it! Starting. With. You.”

I quickly got back on my feet, grabbing the bigger man by the arm in an attempt to restrain him.

“Harvey, don’t!”

Out of reflex, he carelessly swatted me away, slamming his fist directly into my face as blood trickled down my nose. That seemed to snap him out of it for a second.

“Bruce!” He apologetically exclaimed, digging his fingers into his hair. “I’m...I-I’m sorry.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped.

“Up until now, Harvey’s been weak,” he growled, falling back into insanity. “He’s been afraid.” Removing the prosthetic, he revealed the horrific burn behind it as Oz let out a gasp.

“Holy shit.” He whispered.

“This...this is the monster they all know that you are,” Harvey continued scolding himself as he circled around the room, stopping at the family portrait. “Embrace it!” He threw a punch at the painting, shattering the frame’s glass.

“No, no!” Harvey hissed, tearing himself away from the damage he’d just dealt as he turned to me and Oz. “Oh, god. This is what you wanted to see, isn’t it, huh? The freak!”

“Harvey...” I said sorrowfully, unsure of what else to do.

Before Oz or I could react however, Harvey had torn the portrait off the wall with an enraged shout and hurled it towards Oz, fortunately missing him but harming the frame even further.

“Jesus, Harvey!” I yelped, frightened at the vicious change in his personality. All traces of his original self had all but disappeared, and right now, it seemed like there was no breaking him out of this psychotic episode. He slipped out a coin from his pocket.

“Of course, gotta be fair about this,” Harvey snarled, twirling it between his fingers. “Can’t play favorites. They both deserve it. One way or another. How about we flip for it?”

I shook my head. “This isn’t funny!”

“No...” he ignored, “no...it really isn’t.” Tossing the coin into the air, a wicked smile came to his wretched face once he saw the result.

“Bruce,” Harvey announced. “Looks like you’re first!”

Like an angry bull, he suddenly charged towards me with a ferocity I’d never seen, letting out a madman’s yell as I stayed paralyzed in place like a deer in headlights, unable to move.

Before Harvey could even touch me though, Oz had already thrown himself in front of the mayor and tackled him onto a nearby table, restraining him with a surprising amount of ease.

“Always getting in the middle of things...!” Harvey taunted, forcefully shoving Oz off as he returned his attention to me and prepared to attack.

Hastily grabbing the closest object, I held it defensively at him, backing away slowly.

“Stay the hell away from me!” I shouted. He closed the distance between us, his shadow towering over mine.

“The call’s already been made!”

Once again, Oz intervened and pulled Harvey backwards, only to receive a fist to the face. As a result, the mayor wagged his head as if he were trying to shake the voices out, coming back to reality for a moment.

“No...! I...I don’t want to hurt you...this isn’t...!” He wandered into the kitchen, resting his hands on a counter for a second as he eyeballed a steak knife, eventually picking it up.

“Harvey, put the knife down!” I exclaimed, but to no avail. He turned around, raising the weapon with a devilish grin. Oz protectively bolted in front of me.

“Bruce!”

Switching back to his other side, a pang of realization hit Harvey as he buried his face in his hands, staring at the knife with uncertainty until he flung it into a wall, almost tearing his own hair out.

“He’s gonna hurt someone!” Oz said to me. “You know we can take him out.” He glared at the mayor. “Have you lost your bloody mind!?”

Even though I knew it was a risky decision, I voted against fighting Harvey and attempted to take a more gentle approach, my heart thumping in my chest as I tried to bring his temper down.

“Harvey,” I looked him directly in the eye. “You need. To calm down!”

“What are you doing?” Oz blurted out.

Unfortunately, my attempt failed, and Harvey simply continued his rampage, staring at me with dagger eyes and clenching his fists. “No going back now.”

He threw a number of punches at me, his knuckles just barely missing my face as I stepped away from him, trying to avoid the attacks.

“C’mon, Harvey! That’s enough!”

Completely disregarding me, the mayor heavily lurched at me again, causing both me and Oz to leap out of the way as he collapsed onto the table, awkwardly splitting it in half under his weight. He didn’t get back up.

For a while, Oz and I just stood there in shock, gaping at the wreckage around us and at the man who caused it all, both of us at a loss for words while Harvey remained on the floor.

“Oh...god...” the mayor finally said, sniffling. He gazed up at me in desperation, tears flooding his eyes. “...please,” he begged. “I don’t wanna be alone, Bruce.” Harvey fell to my feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please, not with him...! I can’t...oh, god, I can’t listen to him!”

Exchanging looks with Oz, I tentatively knelt beside Harvey, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not alone. I’m right here. Okay?”

“I am. I am...I am...” He got up from the floor, heading for the front door in defeat. “My fault. All my fault.”

“Harvey, don’t.” I tried to block him, only to be pushed away.

“Bruce,” Oz said as the mayor skulked off, “I--I don’t think we can help him. Not on our own. He needs a professional.”

“He’s my friend, Oz. I won’t abandon him.”

Harvey opened the door, glancing back at me. “It’s okay, Bruce...I’ll go...I don’t deserve your help. Or your love.”

His voice returned to a growl. “...Go off with your tail between your legs.” His eyes widened at the abrupt change. “I’m sorry...”, Harvey cried, “I’m so sorry.”

“Harvey!” I called after him, but he was already gone.

Standing in the middle of the broken living room, my eyes fell to the floor in despondency as Oz caressed the side of my arm, wiping the blood from my face.

“You all right, Bruce?”

I gulped, afraid that if I uttered even one word, I would burst into tears.

“I don’t wanna turn into that, Oz.” I whimpered, staring at my blue veins. “I don’t wanna become like that. But it’s gonna happen anyways, isn’t it? I’m gonna go crazy. I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Without saying a word, Oz pulled me into a tight embrace, never letting go.

“You’re a good man, Bruce. Good just like your mum was. And no matter how much the drug damages you, I won’t forget that. Your descent into madness may be inevitable, but we still have time to make things right before that happens.”

Looking up at Oz, my sorrow slowly grew into a hungry desire for vengeance, wanting to destroy everything my father had built over the years and everything he created, including that goddamned drug. It had harmed enough people already, including Esther, Harvey, and even myself. It was high time he got a taste of his own medicine, and I was more than happy to be the one to deliver it.

“Then let’s get to work,” I said. “Falcone won’t live to see the end of this week. Whether he’s ready or not.”

#cobblebats #batman telltale #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #harvey dent #fanfic #story

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