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cluelessnamelessao3 · 3 years

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It’s Raining Somewhere Else

The One with Puns Between Pals

The walk was relatively quiet, though you do attempt some small talk. Sans, for his part, seemed determined to keep his mouth shut. The air was still and crisp, the streets were mostly empty, aside from the occasional straggler returning home from a long day of work. You were feeling comfortable, wrapped up in Sans’ coat, as you walked beside him. You tried to relish the feeling of the heavy jacket and you felt reluctant to go home, knowing you would have to return it.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you tried again to make conversation.

“tibia bit honest, it is on my way.”

You smiled at the pun, “Is it? No, uh, fibula?”

He snickered, “your delivery could use some work, but nice one.”

“Well, I am sorry, but you still found it humerus. So, not sorry at all.”

You earned a chuckle from that one and it warmed your heart to hear his deep and gravelly laugh.

“guess you’re not such a bonehead after all.”

“To patella you the truth, I do feel a little bit like a knucklehead when it comes to the art of punnery.”

He really laughed at that one, you beamed with pride, “i’ve got your back, but i kneed you to know you’re talking to a pro.”

“I appreciate that a skeleton.”

While laughing, he responded “that’s a bone-us, then. to tell you the tooth, my brother doesn’t find my jokes very fibula-ous. he doesn’t appreciate a good ribbing.”

You were out of puns, so you helpfully provided, “uh, phalanges.”

This caused him to stop and look at you, something indiscernible in his eye sockets, before folding with laughter. You doubled over yourself, embarrassed at your lack of pun game, but happy that you could him to laugh so hard.

“phalanges?” he managed to choke out between laughs.

“I was at a loss for another good pun, I need to study some anatomy, I guess.”

At that, he went quiet, his skeletal cheeks glowing a light blue.

After a beat of silence, he resumed walking and you worried that somehow you offended him.

However, after another few moments, he mumbled out “s’all good, you did your best.”

You smiled, “well, I tried at least.”

“it’s the ulna thing i ask.”

“You’re too good, Sans, I can’t keep up. I’m—” you paused, unsure of if your next words will be taken the wrong way, but continued despite your hesitation, “I’m boned.”

You didn’t quite hear what he said next, but it almost sounded like “you could be.”

The rest of the walk back was finished in a companionable silence. You noticed that same blue tinge from earlier still dusting Sans’ cheeks as he stopped outside your apartment building.

Bravely, you asked “Do you want to come in?”

To your surprise, he answered “sure.”

As you walked down the hall to your small apartment, you fretted about the condition of your little abode. Would it be dirty? Did I remember to put my laundry away? Did Lampshade behave while I was gone?

These worries proved unnecessary as you opened the door to a small but relatively tidy little room. You placed your keys on the counter, digging your phone out of your purse to see a few text messages from your only other skeletal friend. He was inviting you to another get together, one with Undyne and another of their friends, named Alphys. You shoot back a quick response, accepting the invitation happily, before placing your phone on the mini table next to the couch in your cramped living room. It was an open floorplan, where the kitchen faces the living room, with one hallway shooting off into where your bedroom was. Thankfully, your door was closed, so there was really no need to worry about any mess or potentially embarrassing sights.

“Do you want a cup of tea… or, hold on, I might have something you’ll like.”

Sans was standing awkwardly in the foyer, seeming unsure of himself. Briefly, you wondered if he regretted accepting your invite. After a pause, though, he shook himself and crept into the living room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you called over your shoulder as you dug into the fridge, searching for one thing in particular. It was still there, and you grab it with some excitement, a little tub of homemade ketchup. You weren’t much of a chef, to be honest, but you did enjoy making your own food. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, let alone yourself, but after you had seen Sans’ love for ketchup, you decided to learn to make some, under the premise of ‘it’s probably cheaper to make myself’. It wasn’t. But you had fun.

Eagerly, you presented the container to Sans with a flourish. He looked amused and slightly confused, before opening it to take a sniff. You turned back to the kitchen and busy yourself with making a pot of tea while Sans dips a finger delicately into the condiment and takes a taste.

“ketchup?”

“Yeah, I don’t cook a lot, but I wanted to try making my own sauces to keep on hand… it’s homemade.”

“s’good.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering just the slightest at his small praise.

“Thanks, I can share the recipe sometime if you want. I can make you tea as well, I just thought you might like that since you always get ketchup at Grillby’s.”

“sure, thanks,” he replied coyly, “or, you could just make some more for me.”

“Oh! Yeah!” You were too eager, but you didn’t care. This was the most conversation you had had with Sans to this day. You would’ve agreed to pretty much anything if it kept the skeleton happy and chatty.

“my brother will probably want the recipe though. he’s a cool guy, learning to cook. maybe he’ll become a chef someday.”

“Well, if he does, tell me when and where so I can be his first customer.”

“heh. i bet you would like him.”

“What is he like?”

Just then, your phone dinged with a message alert. Sans glanced at it, looking at the sender with interest. You scrambled to get to your phone, seeing a reply from Papyrus. Without hesitation, you opened the message and sent a thumbs-up emoji as well as a little heart. It took a second before your phone was flooded with a few emojis and one gif of a skeleton dancing. The smile on your face was soft and sweet as you click the phone closed and place it back onto the table.

Sans remained quiet throughout the short exchange, just watching you with a contemplative look on his face.

Embarrassed and apologetic, you turned to him once more, “Sorry about that, making plans with some friends for this weekend.”

He nodded, still seeming to be thinking intently.

“So uh, your brother, what is he like? He likes to cook… and you mentioned one time that he enjoys a good bedtime story…”

Sans expression was indecipherable, but his tone carried an affectionate lilt as he talked about his brother. The details he gave were sparse, but you felt as though this mysterious brother sounded awfully familiar. Was it rude to think that Papyrus and Sans could be related? You weren’t sure if that was being presumptuous, did you only think they were related because they were both skeletons?

You were starting to feel too warm, when you remembered that you were still wearing Sans’ coat. Sheepishly, you took it off and offered it back to him.

“Thanks for letting me wear it, I would’ve been cold to the bone on that walk back. I need to start remembering to bring my own jacket.”

He took it and laid it on the couch beside him, “s’really not a problem.”

“You can take the rest of that ketchup with you, by the way. I can always make more… I’ll, uh, let you know the next time I do so you can grab some.”

“appreciate it.”

Lampshade took his opportunity to appear, having hidden from you upon seeing your company. Lightly, the cat leaped onto the couch back and gingerly sniffed Sans skull. Sans, to his credit, did not startle at the sudden appearance, although he did look somewhat uncomfortable.

“you have a cat?”

“Yeah, his name is Lampshade, but you can call him Shade, too.”

“nice to meet you, lampshade,” Sans said, watching the cat carefully.

For good reason, as Lampshade swatted at his head. You noticed he did not extend his claws, if anything, he seemed positively playful.

“you’ve cat to be kitten me,” Sans looked almost offended, but there was a light in his eye sockets as he regarded the little furry assailant.

“Meow, Shade, that is not how we greet our guests. You’re being… pawful.”

Sans chuckled, “it’s okay, i’ve got to get going anyway. you know the deal, brothers and bedtime stories.”

You nodded, your disappointment palpable, even to Sans.

“i’ll see ya around, kit,” as he stood to leave, he glanced once more at your phone, his expression unreadable. He grabbed the container of ketchup and waltzed out of your apartment. You closed the door behind him, before realising his jacket was still on your couch. When you opened the door to call after him, assuming he would still be making his way down the hall, he was already gone.

Huh. That was weird.

#undertale #it's raining somewhere else #undertale sans #sans fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #sans/reader #sans/female reader #chapter 7 it's raining somewhere else

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inactiive-shit · 4 years

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Electricity

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: references to past issues, intrusive thoughts, Remus-normal stuff

Pairings: Platonic Intruality, background romantic Royality

Words: 2,224

Summary: Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

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Remus is vibrating.

That’s not some weird metaphor for sex, he’s not alluding to anything that isn’t exactly what he means.

What he means is: his body is running about a million gigawatts through every single atom. How else would you explain the flailing arms, bouncing legs, loud screeching noise that is coming out of his mouth, or the white streak in his hair that he swears wasn’t there yesterday? No, there is no other explanation. Remus is being electrocuted enough to kill an elephant ten times over and he still has the unfortunate luck to not only be living through it but aware of it as well.

Which, really, depending on which Gods he’s currently worshipping, is deserved. Zeus would probably smite him, given half a chance. But that isn’t Remus’s problem until it actually happens, and this isn’t that.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This was one thousand - I’ll raise you two - I’ll raise you three thousand percent electricity made and controlled by Remus’s own brain because sometimes even his body is against him. He can’t always control the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, and sometimes he feels disconnected from his arms when they flail around and accidentally land a gnarly black eye, and do you really think he would keep bouncing a hole through the floor with his leg if he had the choice to just stop for a minute?

But he doesn’t, because things often don’t work out for Remus. It’s just what he’s come to expect. Stupid because he can’t do easy things, nonsensical because he can do hard ones. Confusing because he reads with music on, lying because he can hear your watch ticking from across the room and cannot do simple math with a distraction like that. Uncaring being so impulsive, wrong for trying to be considerate. Always, always, Remus is never enough.

Remus is like the clock that still has cogs. He does work. It is just a different kind of working than others are used to. Sometimes, he must be wound, sometimes his gears malfunction and he must be reset. Sometimes people ignore his face for the ones printed in pretty, glowing numbers.

He doesn’t know who the problem really belongs to, whether he is running too fast for everyone else’s day, so that he has twenty-eight hours for their twenty-four, or if they simply don’t know how to read the time on an analog clock, with it’s spinning hands and whirring parts. He figures there’s not much to figure out about all that, not really. At the end of the day, he is the one out-numbered, he is the one impulsive, he is the one with oxymorons that run like code through his system that works for him and no one else.

Remus is not the problem, he is their problem.

But right now, more specifically, he is Patton’s problem. Roman had left him alone in his house, assuring him that he’d be back in half an hour. Due to some crappy traffic, crashes, making a few other stops, and having his other friends require his help, Remus was still sitting - bouncing off the walls in his house alone when Roman’s fiance Patton got back.

In the twenty minutes proceeding, it’s all been downhill.

“Remus, please stop that,” Patton says, mouth twisted into a politely downturned smile most likely because it’s not the first time he’s said it. This is also not the first thing Remus has done that made Patton ask him to please stop. It doesn’t feel like as much of a win as it usually does with Patton’s genuine if nervous smile when he’d first seen Remus today.

Remus launches the bouncy ball at the wall again, snatching it out of the air before it can shoot away to break one of their overly expensive vases. He grins at Patton, lips pulling a little too wide, and does it one more time, then pockets the ball.

“So so so,” Remus sings, flipping himself upside down on the couch and staring at Patton. “What’s up with you, A-Pat-thy? Get it? Like apathy but-”

“But with my name, yeah,” Patton says. There’s almost a smile on his face, which is not the kind of reaction Remus’s nicknames usually get but he’s not objecting. “Wait here,” Patton says and leaves the living room. Remus takes the ball out of his pocket and puts it in his mouth instead. There’s not much reason to it, just rough and round and in mouth. It has no taste but it feels like stretchy sand, which Remus will make the second he gets the supplies he needs.

“Let me ask you,” Patton says, returning with one hand held behind his back, “how fondue you find puns?” He presents Remus with fondue-covered bread. Remus jumps off the couch, clapping his hands.

“Oh, punderful!” he exclaims, accepting the bread for the olive branch it is. Remus may be a million things that other people have accused him of, but he’s never been dense - as much as Roman would have liked him to notice less. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

“That’s just too cheesy!” Patton says, really laughing.

“You better be bread-y because there’s more where that came from,” Remus says, pointing at Patton with his bread. He cackles.

“Well, well, well, you better just Skittle on out of here, because puns are my business and you are about to go bake-rupt,” Patton says. He makes finger guns at Remus and Remus collapses back onto the couch, clutching his wounds gravely.

“Oh no, the Sheriff of Punnery has yeasted me again.” Patton wrinkles his nose. “On bested?” Remus asks. He refrains from saying his buns were just too powerful because that can carry connotations and this is his brother’s fiance; he doesn’t want to make things too weird when he actually kind of does want Patton to not-hate him.

“It’s passable,” Patton says. “But I think I out-punned you this round.” They both laugh at the last, unexpected pun of their duel, and Remus has to concede defeat here. He nods acceptingly.

“I must agree. My brother has picked a worthy adversary.” Remus’s leg starts bouncing again now that he’s sitting down, and the electricity is coming back full force so that the air around his skin is crackling with energy he can’t touch. It’s arcing through his veins like molten rocks, leaving behind a desire to jump and scream and move, but his leg bounces and he picks at his nails and chews his lips and tries not to be any more obnoxious than he has to be.

“I have some spaghetti I was going to heat up for dinner,” Patton says. “It’s nothing special, and if I’d known you were coming I would have made something better, but we can split it.”

“That sounds pasta-tively delicious,” Remus says. “I can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti.” Patton laughs and goes back to the kitchen - which, from Remus’s limited understanding of their life, is where Patton lives. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure Patton is some kind of human-sized brownie that enjoys cooking. Is it technically bestiality that Roman is going to marry him?

Remus is still musing over Patton’s perilous status as human and rubbing the carpet bare with the ball of his foot when Patton returns with two plates of spaghetti. He sits on the couch next to Remus, which is strange. Not many people sit next to Remus if they can help it. He doesn’t say anything though. As much as he’d like to make a crude innuendo or pun (as much as they’re clawing up his throat to be voiced), he will not mess this up. They’ve only just decided to be brothers again, and he won’t fuck up like last time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks, jolting Remus. He nods hurriedly.

“It tastes better than any gourmet rat I’ve ever had,” he says, shoving another handful in his mouth. Patton’s face twists up again, but Remus can’t and won’t just not talk. “You know, there are a lot less rats in dumpsters than you’d expect to find. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s totally functional that people just throw away. It’s crazy. The world would quit working without trashmen. They can make or break an entire neighborhood. Once, when Roman and I were kids, there was a huge storm on garbage night, ended up with trash all up and down the streets. I don’t know who cleaned it up, but it wasn’t us.” Remus keeps talking until he’s forced to stop to breathe at which point Patton interjects.

“I noticed that you move around a lot.” Remus immediately stops all movement before it picks back up and the intensity increases. “Which is fine,” Patton continues hurriedly, “but I was just wondering if you had heard of something called pressure stimming? It helps me when I start to get restless. I just thought of it because fidgeting that much makes me tired.”

“I have never not ever heard of such a thing,” Remus says, speaking quickly. He flutters a hand through the air and it looks kind of like a drunk hummingbird. Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight? Remus adds it to his to-do list. “What does it entail?”

“You just apply pressure to yourself, like sitting on your legs or something. Or you can do it with another person on a larger scale.”

Remus doesn’t say doing it, huh? How forward of you despite that being the loudest thought in his head for approximately five seconds. “You mean punching people.” Remus nods wisely. Punching is a good way to calm down.

“No!” Patton cries. “Nothing violent! Like cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Remus says slowly, “I have no idea what you mean.” He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly and shoves another handful of spaghetti into his mouth. But then his plate is lifted out of his lap and he looks up into Patton’s eyes, much closer now than he had been a few seconds ago.

“What’re you doing?” Remus whines, watching his plate leave him with all the regret he can summon.

“Can we cuddle?” Patton asks. “Like, platonically?”

“Uhm, sure?” Remus says. Patton pushes him so that he’s laying down flat on the couch. Remus turns his head to look at the wall and wonders what on earth his brother’s fiance is about to do. If something goes bad here, if Patton does something Remus didn’t ask for, Roman will still believe Patton over him.

Remus can’t lose his brother again. Not so soon after getting him back.

“What are you,” Remus starts and begins to sit up, but then Patton is flopping carefully on top of him. Remus’s back is pressed firmly into the couch. Patton makes a comforting weight on his chest that almost lets him drown out the stupid voice in his head yelling chew his hair and pull the threads so his shirt comes undone and he’s in eye-poking range.

“Take a deep breath,” Patton says. Remus does as he’s told without thinking about it first - not always a good thing to do - and immediately feels like he’s settled exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the couch firm under him and Patton solid above. He’s content.

He hasn’t felt like that in a long, long time.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He reaches up hesitantly to rub his eyes, almost afraid that if he moves this apparition will evaporate (it wouldn’t be the first time.) “It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad,” Patton says. He pauses for a moment and Remus wonders what thing he’s not saying, what Remus is doing that is wrong and bad and loathed-

“You’re not fidgeting as much,” he says quietly, which is definitely not what Remus had been expecting. “Do you feel calmer?”

“I-uh.” Remus chokes and he flutters a hand in the air before trapping it at his side. He’s surprised to realize that he doesn’t really feel that electricity burning through his synapses, telling him to pick his hand back up and fling it around like a badminton racquet when the shuttlecock has gone out of range. How strange.

Remus’s eyes flutter shut before he can stop it and he sighs heavily, giving himself fully over to the comfort of the moment. “Yeah. I feel calmer.” His fingers trace patterns against his pants and his leg shifts. Patton moves slightly and Remus holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t done anything to make Patton mad at him, but he only adjusts himself to Remus’s new position and stays where he is.

Patton hums on top of him, and while the otherwise silent house is a bit too much for Remus, this noise isn’t entirely unpleasant. He finds himself slipping away, feeling so tired and okay and really, actually safe here that he shuts off before he can stop it. His last solid thought is wondering if Patton is like a lightning rod, attracting the electricity out of Remus so that Remus can finally relax. His brother really did fall in love with someone good. Despite everything, Remus is glad that he’ll have that.

He falls asleep without electricity snapping against his skin. It is a singularly amazing experience.

#sanders sides #ts remus sanders #ts patton sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #ts remus #ts pattton #ts dark creativity #ts morality #fanfic #my writing #electricity #intruality #platonic intruality

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jootsmcgoots · 4 years

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The Bright Side, Chapter 1: Bloom Effect (Abbacchio x GN!Reader) SFW

This was the 2nd fic I wrote, and in a way it was kind of a continuation of my first Abbacchio fic. However, I ended up choosing to make it a gender neutral reader instead of a female reader because I ended up noticing that I never did use pronouns in this fic.

So my rationale was like “Hey if I don’t use pronouns, I may as well make it a GN fic because then anyone can enjoy it.”

However this of course does not exempt anyone from the punnery LMAO

Anyways. I wrote this one because my friends were like “hey wouldn’t it be great if abbacchio were also good at puns because he seems like the sharp type”

and i was like “holy fuck i’d just fall in love with him even more. i’d have to propose on the spot.”

And so I wrote this LOL

This is a two-parter, so I’ll post the second chapter in a hot minute.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Genre: Fluff (with a pinch of spice)

Word count: 1962

Summary: Abbacchio constantly calls your jokes stupid, but it turns out he has a talent for them too.

And really, when your (overly serious) significant other can rattle out some real dumb jokes at the same rate (if not faster than) you do, how can you NOT fall deeper in love with them?

Chapters: 1 / 2

Chapter 1: Bloom Effect

AO3 Link!

“Leo---”

“No.”

“But I haven’t ev---”

“No.”

The two of you had been laying together on your shared bed. Set to a low volume, music was playing on the radio in the background as you both just enjoyed your day together, no missions or any gang business going on. You had been propped up against Abbacchio’s chest and idly reading a book and just enjoying his quiet company while he would occasionally read over your shoulder and make a comment about the story, prompting some conversation before you both settled back into reading quietly. You both liked it like this; even if you were the more talkative and outgoing of the two, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy quiet time, especially when it was with him.

But of course, that didn’t stop you from being a little shit with him. Like the joke you had just made about him “taking a page from your book” (which earned a groan), and then telling him you knew he’d react like that because you could “read him like a book” (which in turn elicited a disgruntled “Really?” while you snickered in amusement).

After he had cut you off for the second time, you made a pouting noise and puffed your cheeks out as you rolled onto your stomach to face him. “You’re no fun.” You said that, but it was no secret that you loved his reactions (after all, why would you bother him so often?), as your face displayed a sunny, shit-eating grin.

“And you’re always so grumpy,” you added. At that, you sat up and began to poke at his face, using your index fingers to push the corners of his lips into a forced smile, pressing his cheeks higher up on his face. “Lighten up!” You giggled at the sight of his mouth being pulled into such an exaggeratedly happy expression, while his eyes and brow both communicated sullen annoyance. If it had been anyone else, Abbacchio may have swatted their fingers off of his face, much less even let them touch him like this. For you, he tolerated the gesture.

And anyways, it was no secret that he loved your smile.

He took your wrists into his hands and removed your fingers from his face. “I can be plenty of fun,” he replied in that gruff tone of his. “It’s just that your jokes are always so stupid.”

“You love them.”

“I don’t.”

“You love me.”

He removed his hands from your wrists and into your hands, holding them gently.

“I do.”

You flushed slightly and chuckled fondly as you settled fully onto his lap. “I knew it.”

“Don’t push it.”

But now he was smiling, even if just a tiny bit, and you knew you had won. You laughed softly and pressed your forehead against his. Abbacchio closed his eyes into the gesture, a more prominent smile forming on his features. You lifted away from his forehead, then leaned back in to press a little kiss to his cheek once, then twice. Moving from his cheek, you gave him a peck on his nose that earned you a pleased hum. Then, slowly, your lips captured his in a gentle kiss that he reciprocated with a contented sigh that was so soft that you almost didn’t notice it.

Once you separated from him, you couldn’t help but give him a small but cheeky smile. “Even so, you really could stand to lighten up, you know…” you said, trying to get a rise out of him. “You’re still such a grump.” You pressed another kiss to his cheek. “But don’t worry. I still love you.”

Abbacchio ‘hmph’-ed before locking eyes with you. You blinked and chuckled, tilting your head at him. “What? You gonna throw me somewhere again?”

He shook his head ‘no’. Instead, he gathered up the crumpled blanket from the foot of the bed and tossed it onto you as you squawked in surprise as you were suddenly enveloped in cotton and down. “My apologies for being such a wet blanket.”

You blinked from underneath the blanket. Did Abbacchio make…a pun? Peeking your head out from underneath your soft and downy prison, disbelief painted your features as you blinked a couple of more times before starting to smile widely. The grin on Abbacchio’s face was smug, quite gratified that he had managed to shut you up.

“Best cover up your mouth, amore. You’ll let flies in.” He punctuated his point by bringing up a corner of the blanket over your mouth.

“Ha! Haha! Oh my God!” You practically jumped up and squealed in delight, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “That’s hilarious! I had no idea you were capable of such punnery! Leone! Holy shit!” Giggling, you clapped your hands in pure mirth as you began to sit up on your knees.

Abbacchio quirked his eyebrow at you, expression neutral again, and said in a completely serious and even tone, “Don’t you mean holy sheet?”

If you had thought it was impossible for your expression to become even more shocked (while still entirely delighted), you were quickly proven wrong as you felt your mouth gape further. “Pff! Hehe…! Ahaha!” You had thrown your head back and started laughing uncontrollably, feeling tears forming in your eyes. At this point, your stomach had hurt from all the laughing and you doubled over with a soft thump onto the bed, still rolling around and convulsing with laughter.

You weren’t quite sure what was funnier: the fact that Abbacchio was delivering these jokes with the same solemn expressions he wore during meetings or mission briefings, the speed at which he came up with these puns, or the very fact that it was Leone Abbacchio, big angry serious goth man with a stick up his ass so big that it may as well have been a tree, making silly, stupid puns with you.

And God did you love him all the more for it.

Once you had caught your breath and wiped the tears from your eyes, you peered up at him from your laying position, the blanket snugly wrapped around you. “Whew…haha! I can’t believe you came up with those so quickly! That was great! You’re just great! I swear, I find something about you that makes me love you more and more every day.” A realization seemed to cross your face as you looked up at him with what seemed like reverence. “Oh man, Leone, I love you. Aha! Holy shit, I love you so much! Did you know that?” You gave a breathy kind of laugh as you rolled onto your side. “Let me show you just how much! If you know what I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him and proceeded to wiggle around in the blanket, having entrapped yourself further during your fits of laughter. “Just. Just gimme a second.”

Your advances made Abbacchio snort out a short laugh that he couldn’t repress. You weren’t really the definition of “sultry” and “seductive” at the moment, all rolled up in a blanket like a human burrito. It would be the first time he was ever propositioned by what looked like a sentient cannolo. One that threw him bedroom eyes and looked at him like he was the answer to all of life’s questions and beheld him as such.

Your boyfriend just watched you as you tried to worm your way out of the blankets and your pants simultaneously. He was about to comment that it might be easier if you tackled one problem at a time, but by then you had managed to roll right off of the bed and you hit the ground with a muted thump and an “oof!” that was soon followed by some startled laughter.

He shook his head at the sight and sighed out, “You’re such an idiot. How you made it this long is beyond me.” Resting his elbow on his knee and bringing his knuckles against his lips, Abbacchio remained sitting on the bed as he observed you trying to recollect yourself, struggling a bit on the floor to no avail. Though he knew you were too busy fighting the blanket to see him properly, he still chose to hide the rather large grin and fast-growing blush that was forming on his face. At your ungraceful but earnest outburst of love, his heart swelled in a way that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He could feel not only his cheeks but also his ears burning up with a flush that betrayed his attempts to bite back the sappy and equally-in-love grin on his face.

Leone Abbacchio’s heart did not flutter or other silly things like that; he was no longer some inexperienced greenhorn, no longer a bright-eyed young man with glittering eyes. No, he was a grown man, hardened and embittered by the darkness in the world around him, dammit! There was no way he was feeling like a schoolboy who had received his first love letter! And yet here he was, with his heart pounding against his chest at a thunderous tempo that was absolutely impossible to ignore and a warmth that was so hot and bright that he felt like he was going to explode from sheer happiness.

You loved him. You loved him to the point of bursting. He could hear it in the unspoken quality of your words, see it in the flashes of light in your eyes, and felt it from the bottom of his heart in the upward curve of your smile.

A deeper, buried part of Abbacchio hoped you knew that he loved you that much too. Maybe even more so. He really, really hoped you knew. For now, though…

“There! I’m---WHOA!” The moment you freed yourself from your fleecy confines, you found yourself entangled in yet another set of confines. Abbacchio had gotten to his feet and hoisted you up and into his arms. Finding yourself underneath his intense stare and suddenly so close, you squirmed a little as a familiar heat stirred within you. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to this sort of closeness; he just had a look on his face like he was ready to devour you whole.

As if to make good on your assessment, Abbacchio caught your lips in a kiss that started out chaste enough before it began to deepen, a sweep of his tongue over yours turning the words on your lips into soft, unintentional moans. He pulled back to look into your eyes, now half-lidded and entranced, and smiled at you with a vulnerability he reserved only for a select few.

And then he dropped you back onto the bed. A noise of surprise left your mouth as you landed on the mattress, bouncing slightly. Regaining your bearings, you chuckled, “And here I thought you were going to throw me anywhere today.”

“I didn’t throw you this time.”

You rolled your eyes and were about to retort, when you were greeted with the sight of Abbacchio pulling his shirt off of himself. As his long hair fell back into place, you drew a breath at the sight of the silver threads settling over his toned shoulders and chest. Light filtering in from the crack in the curtains made him seem all the more ethereal and mesmerizing to you in this moment. Catching you staring, Abbacchio smirked in a way that seemed equal parts loving and wolfish. “Well, cara? Weren’t you going to show me just how much you love me?”

Your blinked, his words calling you back into the very beautiful reality in front of you, and then you grinned widely at him. Bringing your hand to your forehead in a mock salute, you chirped eagerly, “Si, signore!”

#niko writes #my writing #my fic #my fanfiction #fluff #fluffy #sfw #reader insert #gn pronouns #leone abbacchio #vento aureo #pinch of spice #suggestive #slightly suggestive #punnery #puns #god we just got puns up the butt today yall

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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years

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Dean & Cas Are In Love

A hopefully one day conclusive study of these assholes, hopefully told as briefly as I can.

Written for the people in the fandom who care but sometimes need a pick me up on this, and not written to prove a point to anyone who doesn't already care. <3

Dean needs Cas to get Dick

... They boned him together.

Slightly less visually erotic and more punnery innuendo-y parallel of Sam and Dean killing Ruby together in 4x22 >.>

Anyways.

Season 7 ends, and this episode is dependant on the journey Dean and Cas go through to make amends. There is no formal goodbye or even good luck between Sam and Dean - their last conversation is about Bobby, and the funeral scene is their last real shared scene; after that it’s Dean n Cas paired together until the end.

But let’s start at the top :D

While Carver era isn’t utterly devoid of barbs like this, I’m honestly struggling to think of one that is so overt aside from the deleted 10x14 scene than Meg’s “he was your boyfriend first” line. I feel like this is the end of the really on the nose teasing and jabbing at them as if being in love is an insult, and the beginning of a more nuanced handling - and don’t worry, deleted scenes are on my to-do list as we get deeper into Wonderland >.>

Through Cas’s return, Meg has acted as a block and a romantic rival, in both overt and not so overt ways. She shows up to get between Dean n Cas having more private reconciliation and then seems to “win” who gets Cas, while admitting freely it’s a power grab and for her own protection against Crowley. By 7x23 she shows up fed up with Cas and unable to deal with him, handing him off to Dean to talk to and try and reason with him. Considering the ownership battle she conjured on her end, it has the feeling of conceding ground, and in this case she frames it in the romantic terms of Cas having been Dean’s boyfriend first. She treats it as if it were a fling and she is resigning from the competition to bag Cas as a boyfriend, and returning him to Dean. While she hangs around and helps some more, for the rest of the episode, she no longer hits on Cas or does more than look at him a few times, while Dean is left to deal with him.

The moment where Dean goes to talk to Cas in the car, I like that moment where Dean takes a breath... Those top two gifs have been thrown around fandom a lot out of context or for fun, but there’s serious stuff going on in them - as often with this show and/or fandom, the funny things have a real story to them. I like that Dean is still struggling to face Cas, but he will make the effort in a way that Meg clearly won’t, and talks him to come inside with gentle, friendly persuasion. But like with 7x21 before he goes to talk to him in the day room, he needs a moment to face Cas in this state, as he finds it saddening and troublesome to talk to him, though, unlike Meg, he makes an effort.

Then, we have their ongoing argument which builds up over the course of the episode, but by this point bubbles over about WHY they need Cas to get Dick. And why Cas has been resisting the entire time. His self-worth from the whole betrayal and Godstiel thing is obviously his most prominent, painful trauma. He has to spell out for Dean why he won't help, but this is the most clarity he shows in a while, and in this episode Gamble writes his non-sequiturs as very clearly labelled avoidance of questions or thinking about his problems. In 8x08 we'll get another look into his head when he talks about avoiding going back to Heaven with Dean, and I suspect that's based on the intention with how he was feeling during this time as well.

Dean responds by bubbling over with his own shit; this is for both sides of the argument, their stuff in 7x21 finally reaching its conclusion, and of course both are mis-handling it in some ways, through avoidance or anger, and are not at their optimal harmony... To be delicate about it >.> It's harsh to watch, but Dean's anger about Cas is not (just) selfish or motivated to save them - we see multiple times his own pain at seeing Cas in this state, and lines which betray how much it hurts and how he wants Cas back to how he was because, you know, Cas is his friend and he cares a lot about him. Translated into anger, he lashes out with his pain in the situation, the unfairness that Cas can avoid and refuse to help when he caused all that harm, and even to this day is something where Cas still feels bound to make amends for things that he broke - season 13 finally returning to the theme of how much damage he did to Heaven. Dean telling Cas this so harshly is the painful shock that pokes at Cas's guilt, but also betrays Dean's own pain and investment in Cas's situation.

As with moments when they physically attack each other, obviously emotional lashing out betrays care but shouldn't be like... romanticised and stuff. Just, taking this in a fictional story setting etc.

Anyways, after this, Cas goes into a defensive full denial mode for a bit, and they turn to doing Bobby's passing on; at the end of this scene, the camera dramatically pans to Cas with rising dramatic music, and it turns out he watched the whole scene. Of course though he was not a part of his, his presence is necessary and important, because he cared for Bobby too, and Bobby died fighting the leviathans, which Cas unleashed. This is part of his "mess" as Dean put it, and something he confronts, silently, on his terms. There's no camera work to suggest Dean sees Cas watching but I like to think that he does, as he was facing the right way, and between Dean yelling at Cas, and him going to him in peace, this is the only thing that happens. I think Cas's remorse is very important even though it may be silent, as is bridges these moments, giving Cas honest reflection which he can't divert from - seeing Bobby, someone he cared about a great deal, as a ghost that they're forcing to move on. And Dean knowing that Cas came and watched this and was a part of the family scene despite his current withdrawal from helping them.

Dean approaching Cas is wonderful because finally he doesn't demand Cas help them, but finds a peaceful middle ground of something Cas can do to help but that doesn't involve violence, meaning that despite all of Dean's anger, he wants to help Cas find a way to help them, to clean up his mess, but to do it on terms which Cas can handle. This peace also allows Cas to think about it in non-confrontational terms, and to face up to what sending Dean in to fight Dick alone will mean if he doesn't help.

The "I'd rather have you, cursed or not" line has been picked over a lot, both positively on gifsets and general squeeing, and negatively about its connotations that it can still carry a suggestion that Dean only wants Cas to help them because he's the only one who WILL help them, at this stage, and they know that they need him. I like the line after it better, as it's the much more personal appeal, the sense of them being in it together, and that it's not just anything - this is something that Dean feels as a connection between them. The less emotional pep talk and more personal nonsense the line, the more it really means, as he's not saying this in the same tone of voice as rallying Cas, just pointing out that they're all in shit creek together.

Cas understands what Dean's getting :D

I should have giffed as well, but no room and I have to make cuts somewhere, Cas asking about what the plan was - because the plan involves Cas being brought along PEACEFULLY, only for Dick identification, while Dean was supposed to be the one to fight Dick alone, Cas at his side, but the expectation was that Cas had one role and Dean had the other.

In the end, they tag-team him. :')

Also: Dean's absolute trust that Cas knows Dick when he sees him, and Cas defending Dean from Dick advancing on him, after all that stuff about not fighting, once again as with deflecting Hester away from Dean, he steps in to protect Dean, and even grabs Dick from behind so Dean gets his clean second shot at him that does the job.

Of all season finales, 7x23 really floors me for how embedded the Destiel narrative is in it, when this isn't even a majorly Destiel season for obvious reasons, and I never felt like Gamble wanted much to do with them in that sense. Whether it's just because of leading into Carver era or what, or the need to make amends both in the writing for Cas and in the meta level for the writers, once Cas was back this story was oh so very much about and for him, as he was the one responsible, and he had both emotional damage with Sam and Dean, and plot damage to handle. If he was to return as a main character next season and have even halfway a reboot back to a regular Cas, he needed a full redemption in the narrative, and to be brought back into play alongside Dean and back in his rightful place at his side. And this is the set up to get them there, from the awful mess left at the beginning of the season. :D

#Dean and Cas are in love #destiel #my stuff #lizbob gifs #7x01 #queue

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ayellowbirds · 6 years

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Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 6: "What The Hex Is Going On?"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 6)

AKA "The Gang Is Totally Cool With Dead Bodies"

As the episode opens, a voice repeatedly intones, "come... come!!!", and the view moves from an old mansion, to a nearby graveyard. A bat flies past a mausoleum, and can be heard as an aged man walks through the night, arms outstretched.

The thing is, the guy is drawn with his mouth open in such a way that i thought at first that he was the one chanting the eerie command. And then, without the bat on screen any more, it seems like he’s the one screeching.

Meanwhile, the gang come to visit their friend Sharon Wetherby, who has invited them up to her family estate for the weekend. On their drive up, they catch sight of the old man, and wonder about what he’s up to... but continue on their way.

Now that’s some good Southern New England Wherever-The-Fuck Gothic. Look at that decayed gateway sign with the family name obscured by hanging moss. On their arrival, Sharon and her father mention that “Uncle Stuart” has gone missing, and when they go to investigate the old “Kingston Mansion” where the gang saw him, they find him hidden in the shadows near the entrance, aged at least twenty years.

Stu recalls a “ghostly voice” calling him out in a trance to enter the mansion, where he encounters...

THE GHOST OF ELIAS KINGSTON!

Elias always seemed one of the most iconic Scooby villain designs to me. As he delivers a warning demanding the Wetherby fortune as his right, he transforms Stuart with a mere gesture.

I say “mere”, but it’s one of the most character-laden and dramatic movements in the entire run of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You—completely unlike the fading transition used to age Stuart immediately after it. I think the episode’s entire animation budget went into Elias posing dramatically.

This haint has style. Look at that oilcloth duster, the inhuman blue tones and yellow eyes. The gesturing.

Mr. Wetherby tries to call the sheriff, but finds the phone line dead. The gang suggest he drive out to get the sheriff in-person while they take turns standing guard, boasting Scooby’s “keen sense of hearing”. Scooby’s having none of it, and pretends to need an ear trumpet.

Zoinks, don’t put that in your ear, Scoob! You don’t know where it’s been!

As the gang slack off on guarding Uncle Stuart, the voice of Elias Kingston calls to him again. Scooby awakens from a nap to alert the others, and they realize that both Stuart and Sharon are missing.

In a bit of cowardly foresight that also saves a little on the animation budget lovingly devoted to Elias, Shaggy joins the others not in walking through the abandoned Kingston mansion, but rolling on skates. It proves his undoing when Elias sneaks up on him and sends him careening into a bathroom, resulting in another iconic scene:

This isn’t about scaring anyone, Elias just can’t stand filthy hippies and thought Shaggy needed a shower.

Meanwhile, Scooby tries to raid the kitchen, where he encounters an angry bulldog that seems to follow Elias’s directions.

The gang identify this as their first clue, reasoning that a ghost wouldn’t need a watchdog. But really, don’t even the dead deserve canine companionship? Of course, like last episode’s infatuated stray, this dog is never seen again in the episode after the sequence in which he first appears. The gang return to the mansion later on, and there’s no sign of him.

All the same, they reckon it’s a good clue, but it doesn’t tell them where Uncle Stuart got to... until Shaggy notices someone dressed like him. A significantly older someone.

Those of you who are coming here after watching the Scoobynatural crossover may recall it being made into a gag that the gang kind of just... shrug off the presence of dead bodies.

It’s not the first time they’ve done that.

Scooby even laughs at Velma’s line in the screencap above, though Elias arrives to issue a warning that he’ll do the same to everyone else in the Wetherby household and properly scares him.

The gang sneak about and catch sight of the “ghost” making his way into the Kingston mausoleum, wondering what he’s doing there. Gee, i dunno. What would a dead person be doing in their own family’s mausoleum? In any case, the gang dust the door for prints, and find them. They figure a real ghost wouldn’t leave fingerprints, and Fred tries to bribe Scooby to investigate further with an offer of a Scooby Snack.

It won’t do the trick, and as Fred ups the ante from one, to two, three, and finally four, there’s a cute little bit of animation cost-cutting where he uses sleight of hand to produce the Snacks... instead of being animated pulling them from a box or pocket.

Sleight of hand, trap-making skills, and a van full of tools for breaking and entering... where exactly did Freddie pick up this skill set? If this was a Dungeons and Dragons party, he’d have levels in Rogue.

While Scooby is willing at this point, Shaggy snatches up the snacks once again, happily gobbling down literal dog food and volunteering himself in Scooby’s place, even uttering a “Scooby-Dooby-Doo!” of his own.

Roo rastard, Scooby seems to think. I rusted roo rike a rother.

Alone in the mausoleum, Shaggy confesses to himself, “there’s times I’ll do anything for a Scooby Snack.” This episode is dark.

Inside the crypt, the gang discovers a book on Crystalomancy, which fantasy nerds might guess is the art of divination by means of—

Wait, no. It’s Crystalomacy, no N. The gang clearly read it as such, and Shaggy mistakes it for a name, “Crystal O’Macy”. The joke only works with the typo, and since Velma identifies it as the use of crystal balls, someone must have looked it up and either drawn on a source full of typos, or else deliberately misspelled these spells.

The crypt door slams shut, and the gang, having recently left a corpse behind without a care, are locked in a dusty old mausoleum. Like i said, this episode is dark. But Fred Jones is not to be thrown by things such as this, and suggests they start tapping on the walls to see if they can find a secret exit.

Sure enough, they find one, and a few seconds of revolving door gags later, they’re free. The scene transitions to them speeding down the street in the Mystery Machine, apparently having forgotten that they were seeking their kidnapped friend Sharon or that Sharon’s dad was on his way back with the police, having entrusted the care of his relatives to them.

Instead, Fred leads the gang to seek an answer at a “Swami place” mentioned on discovery of the book of Crystalospellingerror. Apparently this is a 1960s take on a fortune-teller’s place of operations and a brief glimpse even reveals a lampshade decorated with a zodiac motif.

The place is empty except for the contents of a storage closet that “danger-prone” Daphne spills onto Scooby and Shaggy, when the dog fails to hide properly as a customer enters, the gang decide to have Scooby let on the role of the “swami” as she mistakes the turban and robe that fell onto him for genuine mystical garb.

I will take a moment to point out that this scene involves nothing whatsoever related to the actual meaning of the title Swami, and instead seems to be some more of that old-fashioned racism from last episode. This time, it’s south Asian culture (or more broadly, the exotified whole of Asia) being treated as a place from which strange mysteries of the occult originate.

We’re treated once again to Shaggy’s voice-throwing ventriloquism, and some punnery when the customer demands her “palm read”. Scooby pulls out a bucket of paint to make her “palm red”.

Why was there a bucket of red paint sitting there? Is the “real” swami (implied to be Elias, or whomever is disguised as him) just as big a lover of wordplay, or is Scooby simply showing more of his strange reality-warping powers by conjuring a can of paint and a brush? In any case, the customer is scared out, and the ghost of Elias Kingston appears in the crystal ball to menace the gang once more by causing the table to fly about the building, chasing them...

...until it hits Scooby, and he manages to crash it into the ground, revealing what was making it fly.

An eight-inch-wide fan powered by two D-cells. I’m increasingly convinced gravity works differently in the Scoobyverse.

Along with this, the gang discover several other clues: a professional makeup kit, and a portable camera for television... that somehow connects wirelessly to a TV monitor inside the crystal ball.

This is not technology that was available at the time, but instead of marveling at these wonders of media, the gang hatch a plan to trick the “ghost”.

The ghost of Elias does love him some wordplay, and i actually feel kind of sorry for him as the gang turn the tables on him with his own camera and projector gimmicks to make him think the mansion is really haunted.

Immediately after this scene, Sharon Wetherby appears in frame with the gang. where Daphne been standing in the shot just before it. This doesn’t seem to be an error per se, as Fred addresses her by name, and Sharon mentions the hidden room where Elias had her tied up all this time. Exactly how or when she escaped is left for the viewer to guess at, but the gang apparently had the time to put the skeletal remains of “Uncle Stuart” in the room, spooking the unliving daylights out of Elias. As he flees, the gang—with Daphne back in her place where Sharon had been—drop a net on him from the balcony, and that’s that.

It’s revealed that “Elias” was Uncle Stuart all along, having used his skill in makeup and recordings of ghostly chanting to fool the others. Sharon explains that she was nabbed because she saw his bald-wig “blow off”, forcing him to capture her. The “swami” is explained as the best way “for a swindler to disappear”, but Stuart’s keeping quiet, and when Sharon wonders why he did it, her father simply says it can wait for the sheriff’s arrival.

The sheriff.

Who Mr. Wetherby was supposed to be bringing back with him, all this time.

...and for that matter, isn’t it kind of obvious why Stuart did it? I mean, the money, right?

But that doesn’t matter to the plot, because Mr. Wetherby says it’s time to eat.

Too bad Scooby has already consumed the entire turkey dinner intended for no less than seven people, by himself.

I guess conjuring cans of paint burns a lot of calories?

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

#scooby doo #KRAOSD

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