#THIS STUPID JOKE TOOK ME LIKE THREE ISH MONTHS TO TELL OH MY GOD

[indilaras]

process of elimination

this is the kind of quality content that happens when you're an Alhaitham main with Cyno's sense of humor.

ID: an eight panel comic in grayscale, featuring Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Alhaitham from Genshin Impact. Panel 1. Cyno is sitting at a table with a cup of wine, one hand gesturing to the air. He is saying, "Why does Alhaitham say 'The process of elimination!' while performing his Elemental Burst? Because he eliminates enemies with it." Panel 2. Tighnari and Kaveh at the same table. Tighnari has his hands in front of his exasperated face, and he is sighing. Next to him is a cup of wine. Kaveh is looking somewhat anxious, sweating. He’s spilling his wine on the table just as he’s about to drink it. He says, “Uh… Cyno...." Panel 3. Alhaitham has a hand on the chair next to Cyno's, and is silent, expressed with ellipsis, as he looks at him. Cyno is facing the front and not him, saying "hm? what?" His cup is on the table, to his side. Panel 4. Alhaitham and Cyno now sit next to each other, and Alhaitham takes the cup. Cyno is facing him, asking, "Oh, Alhaitham. Did you hear my joke?" Panel 5. Alhaitham is holding up the cup, and says with a flat expression, "You mean my joke. You did a surface-level analysis of the multi-layered joke that I made. Unless... the noble General Mahamatra has resorted to blatant plagiarism?" Panel 6 is split into three reaction shots. Cyno has a sparkle in his eye, while Tighnari and Kaveh look shocked and bewildered. Narration/thought bubbles say, collectively, "He says that as a joke on purpose?" Panel 7. Alhaitham is sitting and drinking with a smirk, while Cyno stands up with his hands on the table, looking excited. Cyno: "Hah! Of course not." Alhaitham: "Uh-huh. Sure." Cyno: "And I'm well aware of the full complexity at play here." Alhaitham: "Oh, really?" Cyno: "Mmhmm." Alhaitham: "Why don't you explain it to me in great detail." Below that is a shouting speech bubble saying, in all-caps, "WAIT-- NO-- !!" and a smaller one with fox ears to imply Tighnari speaking, saying "augh". Panel 8. Alhaitham is smiling softly with flower effects around him as he looks at Cyno who is rambling about the joke with his eye sparkling. In front of them, looking away, is an annoyed Kaveh yelling, "BOSS! Another round for this table! and put it on hthm's (Alhaitham's) tab...!" Tighnari is next to him, hands on his folded ears, eyes closed, muttering, "Archons save us, there's two of them now...." End ID.

Also here's the unobscured joke ramble:

So I've gone over the 'elimination' as in eliminating enemies already. While simple, it is genius in how easily applicable it is in every fight, from Spectres exploding to Treasure Hoarders escaping. Other than that, the full phrase 'process of elimination' itself refers to a logical method to identify an entity of interest among several others by excluding all other entities; this is likely the obvious meaning that you want others to catch first. After all, you once went on about your strategy in combat being "finding the weakest link" before letting everything else resolve itself, so it seems like an obvious connection. Hence why I didn't start from there. We also can't forget the use of the word 'process' is also relevant, since typically you start the fight with your Burst, hence this line starting the process of eliminating your foes.

[stevesfuzzypinkslippers]

we’ll be alright-ish.

*for mills*

i get asked this all the time: would i make a good parent?

the correct answer: no. most definitely not.

but do i firmly believe that good parents exist in the world?

abso-fucking-lutely.

take my friends louis and harry for instance. they’ve been wanting a little knucklehead to call their own ever since they first met. both insanely, *insanely* good with kids. they’d been trying for three years. five surrogates, two that instantly turned them down because of god knows what, it wasn’t like they were providing a service to a pair of freak shows, although they definitely acted like it, apparently. one was reluctant to say yes, but got an abortion without them knowing. did it suck? yes. the fourth was more than willing, yet suffered a miscarriage at three months. the last one was probably the most shaky of them all. it was the only one that actually worked, true, but that poor woman had to have a c-section at ten months because that stubborn ass baby just *wouldn’t* come out. that whole time, you could tell they were in pain. you could see the evident emotion through them crying, harry more on the outside, louis more on the inside. did i mention that they love kids?

anyway, so one night my best girlfriend millie viktoria and i went over to their place to babysit their nine month old daughter elliott. cute as a button, every single feature of her, head to toe. harry was caressing her like i caress a pack of doritos after a long day at work. geez, they must have spent ten minutes saying goodbye to her. it was getting annoying, so i had to abruptly remind them of their 7:30 dinner reservation.

it’s funny, those two doofussy dorks swear left and right, but never around their kid. well, at least harry. i can’t say the same for louis, so i’ll just put it as very rarely. so i was expecting him to say “ah, shit,” but they just took off, louis wishing us luck in an obvious joking manner, apparently she was very easily to handle, at least, according to them. harry simply reminded us that there was a clearly organized checklist and other notes of what to do, how to properly care for her, all that fun (and by fun i mean booringg) technical stuff.

“mills, my love, can you read all that shit out to me?” i asked her as soon as the happy couple left. (and they were holding hands, gah! so cute!)

“it’s like… ten pages.” she was already on top of it.

“ten whole ass pages?! fuuuccckkk meeee.” i fake cried as i took a seat on the couch. “i’m hungry.”

“here,” millie came over to me, holding the precious child cargo thing that harry ever so delicately handed off to her. “you can hold ellie, and i will read up on what we need to do.”

“sounds like a plan.” i rolled my eyes before focusing them on… oh my god. she was beautiful.

“oh my god, aren’t you a sweetheart.” my voice dropped down considerably, i don’t know why.

but in my arms, she was quaking like i was when i watched gay porn for the first time.

“oh, you poor thing, you’re shivering.” i couldn’t have said that more deadpanned.

luckily there was a pale pink blanket next to me with white polka dots (or were they beige? i swore i wasn’t colorblind). jesus, harry the has a stupid thing for polka dots, the style diva that he is, it drives me nuts.

anyways, i wrapped elliott with the blanket, and rubbed her a bit so she’d warm up.

“there,” i smiled. “you look like a bean burrito that i could just eat up with some chimichurri.”

“ooh, that sounds delicious right about now.” millie came over licking her lips and sat down beside me, peeking over and waving to elliott.

“i know right. ugh, i’m starving.” with my free hand i rubbed my stomach. “i wonder what they got in the fridge.”

“rem, we can’t just rummage around in their fridge,” millie said to me as i got up with elliott in tow and went over to the fridge.

“hmm…” i looked around, searching for something. “red wine… ginger ale… should i make fun of them for that?” i glanced over at elliott, then back into the fridge, nodding to myself, “for sure.”

i found a slice of frozen pizza that had a couple of bite marks on the tip and the crust.

“rem, that’s not yours!” millie had appeared right beside me.

i shrugged. “well, now it is.” i finished the remainder of the slice in nineteen seconds flat.

“how was it?” millie asked as we sat back down on the couch.

“tastes like shit,” i remarked. “i bet louis made it.”

“shut up! louis is an amazing cook!”

“would he have the guts to appear on masterchef?” i shook my head. “don’t think so. wouldn’t dream of it.”

then i looked down at elliott. “would you like that? huh?” i took notice of how dead silent she was, and how she looked up at me with an eerily glazed (almost half-asleep) look in her pale turquoise eyes (the same gaze that i had when i salivated over that gay porn… alright i’ll stop.)

“you don’t really talk that much, do you?” i said to her.

“rem, she’s a baby, of course she can’t talk.”

“well, babies have their ways of communicating. babbling. cooing. burping. dumping in their diapers. the whole shebang.” i turned my attention to the quiet one. “you know what, what if i just squeezed the voice out of her?”

“gently! she’s a baby!”

so i took my thumbs and pressed down gENtLy on the lower portion of her rib cage, until…

“oh, i think that worked a little too well.”

“ya think?!” millie had this horrified expression that was present solely in her eyes, it was slightly hysterical.

because now came the tricky part, trying to get her to shut the hell up.

i could only imagine louis’ reaction…

“wot the bloody fuck did you do?!” in a tone of voice that could only scream unbridled rage.

i also knew that we’d most likely never get invited back to their place ever again.

and secretly, i liked this lil’ kid.

so talking to louis was definitely a no-go.

“call harry,” i told millie. “he’ll know what to do.”

“what?!”

“well, we can’t just leave this place and not have fixed this kid. what if they come home to this crying nightmare?! guess who they’re going to blame for it?! OBviously us!”

“rem, wait, just calm down for one second! i think harry said that playing some music soothes her more oft than not.”

i rolled my eyes. “of course he says that.

“i know harry has his guitar somewhere.”

“the one with the hand paint on it?”

millie nodded. “yeah.”

a smile formed on my lips. “i like that one. it’s very cool.” i looked around, seeing if it was within eyeshot. “i can’t see it anywhere, can you go find it for me?”

millie instantly shook her head. “how about you go find it. i believe it’s my turn to hold the baby.”

i sighed with a twinge of exasperation. “fiinne.” i passed elliott along to her and got up, millie following close behind with elliott.

after about ten minutes of searching, we eventually found it in their bedroom.

“holy crap, are we allowed to be in here?!”

millie laughed. “probably not.”

“i say we raid their drawers.”

“probably not a good idea.”

“why?!”

“because i know they’re very disorganized. probably.”

so we went over to the guitar, gazing down at it in sheer awe.

“i wanna touch it.”

“rem, wait.”

“i’m going to touch it.”

“well, i wanna touch it first!”

“too late.” i already had grabbed the guitar by the neck, running out of the room with it, millie walking as fast as she could behind me with elliott still in tow.

“hang on, there’s a crib in this spare room, i saw it out of the corner of my eye. i’m just gonna set her down there for a sec.”

i followed millie into the spare room and watched as she gently nestled elliott into her crib, adorned with so many things that i could only describe as a waste of valuable time, effort, and most importantly, money.

“okay, do you know how to play the guitar?” millie sat down in a rocking chair in the corner.

“fuck no, you?” i was twirling the guitar around like a tennis racket.

“i actually took lessons in primary school, so…” millie did that fruity hand flip thing that annoyed me so fucking much.

“well, i had the guitar first, so i should play it.”

“no, me.” millie got up and took hold of the lower portion of the guitar neck, trying to tug it away from me.

of course, you know this has to end well.

we kept playing tug of war with that damn guitar until we heard the high pitched twang sound of a guitar string snapping.

“oh, fuck.” i set the guitar down gently.

“harry will never forgive us.”

“nope.”

we looked at each other, petrified, horrified, you name it.

“what should we do?”

i shrugged. “we’re not calling him.”

“we basically just committed a heinous crime.”

“we should make a name for ourselves. rob a bank, commit a felony, commit a few felonies…”

“remy! now is not the time to joke around! this is serious!!!” millie was now pacing along this lavender colored silk rug that took up almost the entire floor. “we can’t just leave the place with not just a crying baby, but a broken guitar.”

“that’s two for the price of one,” i smirked.

“you’re not taking this seriously at all, are you?” millie’s voice had raised a bit.

i shrugged off her shoving me quite violently with trembling hands.

“alright! fine!” i rubbed one of my shoulder blades. “call harry then, see what he can do.”

“okay, maybe instead of being a stuck-up little bitch, maybe you can call him.” millie (rather aggressively) took the phone out of my pocket and shoved it in my face. it was probably the most passive-aggressive i’d seen and heard millie act in a long time, so i finally bit the bullet and took it upon myself to call harry.

“hey, what’s up?” i was expecting to hear noise in the background from the restaurant, but instead it was strangely quiet. he must have stepped outside to hear me better.

“i fully acknowledge that we’re the worst babysitters in the world,” i began to explain to him.

“what happened?” a split second later, a sense urgency clearly present in his tone.

so i took a deep breath and explained everything to him, saying the automatic “i’m really sorry,” after each sentence.

he took a considerably long pause, but i didn’t have to wait very long for his response. “guitar strings are replaceable, so no need to worry about that. i don’t mind any of you touching my guitar, but please try not to break it next time.” another pause. “you know that drawer right by my bedside, the third one down has all of my songs that i perform. hopefully millie still knows how to read sheet music, has all that in there.”

“yeah, i think i got it.” i hung up abruptly and went back into the bedroom. i then opened up the drawer, and caught sight of a stack of very neatly organized papers, each of them kept in an individual file with a label on each individual tab.

“which one would you think would calm down a screaming infant?” i shuffled through the tabs, my eyes immediately picking up on one that read medicine. “ah, medicine, that sounds enough like a healing remedy.”

millie tapped me on the shoulder, mouthing the word “no” quite frantically and making the motion of slitting her throat with her finger.

“what? why?” i shot her a questioning look.

“it’s about sex,” she mouthed to me.

“eh, teach ‘em young.”

suddenly i felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and when i saw harry’s name appear on the caller id, i gulped.

“shiiittt, what now?”

i answered the phone. “allo?”

“you hung up on me?” the quiet background noise (or lack thereof, i should say) was still there.

“oh, sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“i was gonna tell you what songs specifically to play. well, i guess si can just tell you my favorite. fourteenth file down is fine line. i play it and sing it to her, but you only have to strum the instrumentals, you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. works just the same.”

“fine line, eh?” i began shuffling through the files again.

“yes. when the surrogate would come to visit, i would get as close to her belly as i possibly could and play the song. i don’t know how, but i felt like she could hear it, cause like, whenever she was kicking or moving around or something, she’d immediately stop. so it like, kinda soothed her. even before she was born.”

“oh, that’s wonderful, thanks for sharing.” i couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic if i tried.

“let me know if you need anything else.”

i hung up, rolling my eyes.

“fine line it is then.”

“awww, that’s one of my favesss!” her voice sounded dreamlike, just like my voice when i described gay porn to my coworker for the first time (don’t ask).

“i still wish we could play medicine. i bet it’s a banging ass tune.” i probably sounded more dissapointed than i should have.

we went back into elliott’s room, only being met with piercing squeals even more deafening than before.

“fuck. this had better work.” i sat down on the floor while millie sat down in the rocking chair, reading over the sheet music before setting it down in front of her. and as she gently strummed the remaining chords on that guitar, she would occasionally look over, to make sure she was hitting the right notes and whatnot.

and very, very gradually, the wailing subsided.

phew.

“that was a close one,” i whispered.

millie set the guitar down on the floor and propped it up against the side of the rocking chair, going over to elliott, who was now fast asleep.

“she must have tuckered herself out while doing all that crying. takes up a lotta energy, y’know?” i got up and joined her, peering into the crib.

millie frowned and furrowed her brow. “she misses her dads, probably, poor thing.”

we left elliott’s room, millie leaving the nightlight on and the door slightly ajar, and headed back out into the living room.

i caught sight of a pile of papers that we’d abandoned on the kitchen, pointing them out to millie. “shit, we we supposed to do anything with that?”

she went over and picked them up, flipping through them. i peered over her shoulder and saw that everything was in cursive. how disgusting. nobody writes like that anymore. only old fashioned ass cronies. then again, i’m talking directly about harry.

“you know,” millie said, setting the papers down, “i think good parents go by a checklist like this. but the best parents… don’t even need one. they just learn as they go. that’s the best kind of parenting, i believe.”

i yawned and headed towards the front door. “fuck me, i’m getting an ice cream and calling it a night.”

this is garbage but i hope you still like it. @fiction-tastic hopefully to reprieve you from that somber-ish story i wrote the other day.

[phoenixyfriend]

Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

[mrskurono]

Happy Birthday Hanamaki || Hanamaki x fem!reader x Mattusun

Tags: fluff, poly relationship, domestic!au ish, timeskip, established relationships, househusband

Character(s): Takahiro Hanamaki (hq), Issei Matsukawa (hq)

a/n: it’s Hanamaki’s birthday and so here I go + I need fluff <3

Birthdays were a big deal between the three of you. 

Even back in high school and far before the three of you were together. Mattsun, Makki and yourself were always dead set on making the lucky individuals birthday extra special for them throughout the entire day. Twelve am to twelve pm. Nothing was off limits to make it a real all day event.

Always up first was Makki. He lead the charge with birthdays as he was a January baby. This being said you and Mattsun intended to make today extra incredibly for your spouse because how the last few months had been for him.

Middle of the previous year Makki had lost his job. Which, at first, was fine. He figured he could get one again quick when he needed to. Mattsun and you were doing well in your perspective fields and money wasn’t a concern. So all three of you agreed Makki could take his time and find something he wanted to do.

In the mean while though he began picking up most of the housework. First joking he was your guys house husband. But soon it stuck and Makki was taking care of things during the week days without either of you lifting a finger. To have his days off on the weekends because you and Mattsun insisted after he took care of everything during the week and it was the least you two could do. 

Whatever reason though as his birthday rolled around. Makki’s normal excitement for your traditional over the top bash was dwindling. Mentioning his birthday only when you or Mattsun brought it up. Neither of you noticed his melancholy attitude about the day until it rolled around and he didn’t want to get off the couch.

“What are you doing?” You and Mattsun stood in front of him and blocked his view of the tv.

“Did you not see the tower of creampuffs we made you?” Mattsun’s brow went up. The stack was pretty impressive of his partner’s favorite food. You had both been proud of it’s size this year.

A sigh with a little of a shrug. Makki didn’t look up at you both, “Yeah...I guess...I don’t know it doesn’t feel like a birthday.”

“That’s because you didn’t eat any duh,” Mattsun stalked off to get some of the creampuffs.

Leaving you to sit down next to him with a huffy frown, “What’s wrong? You threw up the puff tower last year.”

Makki’s eyes shifted up to Mattsun coming back into the room with almost a dozen cream puffs in tow, “...I don’t know. I guess I just feel bad. For not working or getting a job.”

“You have a job?” Mattsun looked at him confused.

“What?”

“You have a job,” You echo Mattsun’s words.

About to open his mouth Makki got shut up when Mattsun interrupted him with a creampuff in his mouth and spoke up, “You are really good at getting the embalming smell out of my work clothes. I don’t get how you do that the rags at work always stink.”

“The way you boil eggs for breakfast is amazing.” You nod over at Mattsun, “But the curry.”

“God yes your curry,” Mattsun shoved another creampuff in Makki’s mouth the second he finished the first one.

“Give me one of those.” You reach over Makki’s lap to get two of the birthday creampuffs in your hand, “Your creampuffs? Much better than these but you know how we cook. Why do you even love us?”

“I can’t cook.” Mattsun admitted the fact.

“I hate cleaning,” You shudder at the thought of the toilet you haven’t had to touch in months, “Even period blood you’re so good at it.”

“That’s gross.” Mattsun remarks.

“Well I can’t help it or aim it!” You retort.

This goes back and forth a little bit. Before both of you realize Makki is smiling at the both of you and the self deprecation that has been going on. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back into your lap. Forcing the man to lay back on you and giving you the perfect angle to kiss the side of his head while you hug him tight.

“Your work sucks.” You mumble against his temple as you hold him close.

Mattsun leans forward to lean against the back of the couch so Makki is wedged between the two of you, “Commute is good though.”

“Oh yeah your right commute can’t be beat.” One of the creampuffs in your grasp get put into Makki’s mouth. 

Of course he eats it.

Leaning forward Mattsun kisses the other side of his head as you do the same to his other temple. You both hug him tight until you feel a little laugh leave Makki.

“Ok ok ok,” Makki knew where you two were going with this, “I get it. I work. But- Don’t you guys want me to get a job? I’m not making any money or-”

You and Mattsun look at each other for a few seconds. Then bust a gut laughing even as Makki frowns.

Finally when you both stop laughing, you rest your chin on his shoulder, “Are you happy?”

There was a moment Makki thinking hard about it. When in reality the past few months where he could just putter around the house was probably the best thing he’d done yet, “...yes.”

“Then that’s all that counts,” Mattsun popped a creampuff in his mouth, “We just want you to be happy.”

Makki tipped his head back to look at you. Getting a smile and a nod, “I love having a house husband, I’m the richest woman at work when I tell them what I come home to.”

Flattery working to make him blush a little. Makki looked down at the few remaining creampuffs Mattsun had brought in. He felt stupid for being upset about this to even start with. Clearly lost in his thoughts. You turn his face up towards you and steal a long kiss from him. Breaking Makki’s train of thought. It stayed broken as Mattsun turned his face to him as well. Getting in on a birthday kiss from the birthday boy.

“You guys...” Makki’s face flushed after the creampuff flavored kisses.

You and Mattsun snicker just to hug him tighter, “Happy birthday to the best house husband there is.”

[whorefordean]

lover x e.d

song fic based on the song lover by taylor swift

wc: 2.4k

pairing: ethan dolan x reader 

warnings: a few cuss words and a dirty(ish) joke 

requested: yes 

a/n I would like to sincerely apologize for not posting a fic or anything in months!! I have so many requests from June/July and I’m so sorry!  I promise I am going to try to write some more soon!! Anyways, enjoy!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

We could leave the christmas lights up ‘til january

This is our place, we make the rules

You were struggling with Ethan.  You had been begging him for months to do it.  But ever since you and Ethan got your own place, he had always talked about how your home needed character.  Which is why you were trying to force him to get up now.  

“Ethan c’mon.  We have to take them down today!” You scolded while pulling Ethan’s arm, trying to get him off the couch.  

“Why can’t we leave them up?” Ethan whined, not budging from his spot.  You groaned.  

“For how much longer, Eth?” You questioned.  

“Til January,” Ethan shrugged.  You laughed loudly, dropping his arm to cross yours across your chest.  

“It’s July, Ethan,” You pointed out.  

“We make the rules, babe,” Ethan smirked.  

You sighed and flopped back down beside your boyfriend.  

“I can’t believe you,” You mumbled out.  

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Ethan wasn’t always like that, though.  Before you guys had gotten close, and into a relationship, Ethan was more lowkey about expressing himself.  It was alluring, really.  He was so mysterious and closed off when you met him at the beach one night.  

“Shit, sorry,” he said.  You just laughed and shrugged.  The guy laughed awkwardly, trying to recovers from the trip he had just taken into your side.  

“It’s cool.  We haven’t even met, and you’re already falling for me,” you teased the boy in front of you.  He laughed nervously, and you were quick to notice the blush across his face.  

“Y/n,” you introduced, extending your hand out for him to shake.  

“Ethan,” the boy smiled, shaking your hand gently.  

The two of you talked for hours that night.  You watched the sunrise together.  

“Can I tell you something, but you can’t laugh at me?” Ethan asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that settled over the two of you.  

“Already in love with me, E?  I just met you a few hours ago,” you teased.  Ethan laughed softly.  

“Wow, you really do know everything about me now, don’t you?” Ethan joked back.  

The two of you laughed together for a moment.  

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, y/n,” Ethan confessed as you settled down.  

“Ditto.” 

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?  

“Wanna hang out?” you asked Ethan through the phone.  

“I have to run errands today,” Ethan responded.  You could hear the gloom in his voice, and your shoulders slumped.  

“Can I come with?” You asked hesitantly.  You waited in silence for a few seconds.  Just as you were about to shut down your own idea, Ethan answered.  

“I’ll be there in ten.”  

So, ten minutes later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car on the way to the grocery store.  

You both spent an hour annoying each other and trying to embarrass the other in the store.  After nearly getting kicked out, you and Ethan were walking back to the car with a buggy full of bags.  

“Can we always be like this?  This close, I mean?” You asked.

“Always,” Ethan smiled.  

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

You laughed quietly into Ethan’s chest as he pulled you closer.  

“Why are you laughing at me?” Ethan asked playfully.  

“When you asked me out this is not what I was expecting,” you let out between giggles.  

Ethan had finally asked you out on a date after months of flirting.  You were ecstatic when he asked, and you were sure he knew that with how quickly you answered before he even finished the question.  

Your date had started off pretty normal.  Ethan took you to dinner, then the two of you decided to skip the movie and go for a walk in the park.  What neither one of you expected was getting stuck in the piss pouring rain.  And, better yet, Ethan decided it was the perfect time for dancing.  

You couldn’t be too mad, though.  Ethan looked so young and carefree as he laughed while spinning you around in the middle of the empty park.  

And Ethan couldn’t be bothered to care that his car would be soaked, and you’d both likely end up with colds.  He couldn’t be bothered to care about those things when your cheeks flushed red as he whispered sweet compliments into your ear.  He watched in aw as you threw your head back, laughing at some stupid joke he had executed so horrendously.  

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

“How did you manage to drag me into this?” You questioned your boyfriend as you dragged him into the kitchen away from the thumping bass in the living room.  

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked, playing dumb.  Honestly, you weren’t even sure he was playing.  

“Everybody’s drunk, E.”

“Okay?”

“How are they getting home?” 

“You really are the mom of the friend group, y/n.”

“Ethan, be serious.”

“I am.”

You huffed at the man standing in front of you.  You crossed your arms in front of your chest, causing Ethan to mock you and do the same.  

“What are we supposed to do, Ethan?” You begged for an answer.  Ethan thought for a moment.  

“They can sleep in the living room!” Ethan responded like it was some grand idea.  

“There’s no way you’re being serious,” you shook your head.  Ethan just smiled at you and nodded.  

“It’s our house.  We can let fifteen people sleep in our living room if we want,” Ethan shrugged.  You sighed.  

“You’re making the pallet.”

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

“You can’t seriously be mad at me, babe,” Ethan laughed as you walked into your shared home.  

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Ethan,” you huffed out while kicking your shoes off at the door and flinging your purse onto the table beside the door.  

You were irritated, to say the least.  You and Ethan had decided to go to your favorite diner down the street after having a rough week at work, and the waitress was getting a little too flirty with Ethan. 

“It’s really not a big deal, honey,” Ethan reassured you as he pulled you into his chest.  

“You didn’t see the way she looked at you, E.  She was practically drooling onto my fries,” you mumbled into Ethan’s chest while wrapping your arms around him.  

“I only have eyes for you, honey.  I’ve only had eyes for you for three years,” Ethan whispered the last part into your ear softly.  

“Good, cause I want ‘em all,” you whispered back.  

“You’ll have them all,” Ethan smiled while twisting the engagement ring that had recently been slipped onto your finger by the man himself.  

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my lover

“Cam, please just let me go see him,” you had begged the older Dolan standing in front of you.  

“Y/n, I am not letting you sneak off to see, Ethan.  It’s bad luck to see your groom before the wedding.  Plus, it’s only one night.  I think you’ll survive,” Cameron teased you.  You groaned causing her to laugh at you.  

“We don’t have to tell anybody,” you huffed under your breath.  Cameron rolled her eyes and shook her head.  

You flopped onto yours and Ethan’s shared bed and sighed.  

“Cam, I’m always with him.  I miss him,” you admitted.  Your eyes had begun to water as a wave of emptiness settled over you.  It felt wrong to lay in your bed without Ethan there beside you.  The two of you truly had been connected at the hip since you met.  

“Hey, y/n, it’s okay.  It’s just one night.  Then, you’ll never have to spend another night without him,” Cam comforted you.  

“I’m such a crybaby, holy shit,” you laughed at yourself as you wiped your eyes.  

“If it makes you feel better, Gray texted me and said Ethan has been whiney all day,” Cam grinned, nudging your shoulder.  

“Can I at least call him?” you gave Cameron your best puppy dog eyes, knowing she’d cave.  

“Fine, but no FaceTime,” she groaned.  

You sat up way too fast, shaking the dizziness off as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand.  You clicked Ethan’s contact as fast as you could, and after two short rings, the call connected.  

“Oh, thank god,” Ethan sighed, “I thought I was gonna go crazy.”  

“Cam finally caved,” you giggled as Cameron rolled her eyes beside you, a soft smile resting on her lips.  In all honesty, she loved how in love you and Ethan are.  

“I was fully convinced I would murder Grayson if I didn’t talk to you tonight,” Ethan confessed.  

You laughed at Ethan.  The two of you talked for hours.  Eventually, Cameron had fallen asleep in the guest room, and you settled into Ethan’s side of the bed.  

“Can we always be this close, Ethan?” you asked, barely audible.  

“Always,” Ethan replied before telling you to sleep well.  

“Big day tomorrow,” he’d remind you, sending a smile to your face, knowing that the same time the next night you’d be Mrs. Dolan.  

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

“It’s not too late to back out,” Ethan whispered into your ear as the priest started the ceremony.  

“Ethan, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” you teased back.  You could never be scared of Ethan leaving you at the altar.  The two of you had talked about marriage for years.  There’s no way you’d ever leave each other.  

“Y/n, do you take Ethan Grant Dolan to be your lawfully wedded…” the priest continued.  You smiled at the thought of spending the rest of your life with the man standing in front of you.  Ethan was grinning at you with small tears rolling down his face.  

“I do,” you whispered, only loud enough for Ethan to hear.  

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest spoke cheerfully, stepping away from you and Ethan slightly.  

Ethan quickly grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you in close.  Your hands were wrapped gently around Ethan’s wrists as he kissed you passionately.  Time seemed to stop and the loud roars were drowned out with the love coursing through you as you and Ethan kissed.  

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

You and Ethan laid in the dark in your shared bed.  It was well past 3 am, and you could feel your eyes getting heavy.  Ethan was holding your hands in his, slowly tracing shapes onto the back of your hand.  You smiled as he drew a small circle on your hand.  

“Endless.  Like my love for you,” Ethan whispered softly.  

“You’re so cheesy, E,” you smiled at him in the dark, burying your face into his shoulder and breathing him in.  

“Just don’t wanna lose you.  Don’t wanna hurt again,” Ethan mumbled.  

“Never gonna lose me, love,” you reassured Ethan while pressing slow kisses to his shoulder.  

“Promise?” Ethan asked.  

“Am I not dramatic enough for you?  Do I not express my love well enough?” you playfully teased your husband.  

“Please, you could be an actress with your theatricals,” Ethan snorted.  

“Must I shout my love for you from the rooftops?” you continued.  

“Oh, please, y/n, not again,” Ethan groaned as you pulled yourself out of Ethan’s embrace and onto your feet.  

Ethan tried to grab you, but you were too quick.  Already halfway down the hall before Ethan made his way out of your room.  

“Y/n, people are sleeping! We have neighbors!” Ethan scolded as you slipped through the guest bedroom window and heaved yourself onto the roof.  You walked cautiously, waiting for Ethan to get up there with you.  

“I am in love with Ethan Dolan!” you shouted as loud as you could.  Ethan blushed and quickly pushed his hand against your mouth.  

You watched as a light from the house across the street flickered on.  

“Oh shit,” you whispered, causing Ethan to snort.  

“Again, y/n?” your neighbor, Mrs. Dott, the sweet old lady who baked you cookies every Friday, called out to you.  You giggled softly at her teasing words.  

“Always,” you called out in response to her.  

“Young love,” you heard her mumbled faintly before turning around and going back inside.  

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

“Ethan, it’s not gonna fit,” you huffed out.  

“You know we always make it fit,” Ethan smirked and grabbed your hips.  

“Now is not the time for your dirty jokes, Ethan,” you huffed, still trying to adjust the  Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.  

“But I love watching you blush,” Ethan teased while poking your cheeks and leaving a few kisses down your neck.  

“Not now.  We have to set everything up,” you scolded.  Ethan raised his hands in defense and helped you with the decorations.  

“Why did you wait so long to start decorating?” Ethan asked.  

“It’s a magical thing called procrastination, Ethan,” you mumbled back.  

A few days later, Grayson, Lisa, and Cameron were talking in your living room as you and Ethan quickly finished cooking dinner.  

“Dinner’s done,” you called out to the three guests with a warm smile.  You and Ethan placed the dishes on the table.  You scooted the chair beside you an inch closer and slid it out enough for Ethan to sit down.  

Ethan smiled at you and placed a kiss to your forehead while tracing a circle onto your thigh.  You smiled back at him and gestured for everyone to begin eating.  

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

[relenafanel]

Squats For Thots - Geralt/Jaskier | PG-13.

This is mostly one long dick joke I wrote as an excuse to use “Squats for Thots” as a title. It’s also mostly foolish men with crushes objectifying each other’s asses. #whoops. 

“The Countess likes her men a little more thicc, you know?” Jaskier said, burning through the starting set Geralt had given him surprisingly well. Well enough that he continued talking, though Geralt wasn’t sure the man ever stopped. “Likes something to hold on to.”

Most of the men Geralt saw at the private club thought targeted exercises were a quick way to improve what they considered to be small problem areas, like there was a cheat sheet to looking like a Hemsworth that wasn’t partially genes. Most of them thought they were a personal trainer away from movie-star abs, and Geralt wasn’t there to disabuse them of the notion.

“I figured,” Jaskier continued, breathing through his final 20, “if I found the trainer with the best ass in the place they’d be the person to show me how to turn this slab into fab.”

“Do you ride?” Geralt asked, making a note to make Thursday’s session more intense.

 “Yeah,” Jaskier said, finally sounding out of breath. He batted his eyelashes and Geralt also made a note to recommend the man invest in a sweatband if it was going to make him blink like that, especially since Jaskier didn’t seem to be perspiring hard yet.

 “How many times a week and for how long?” 

 Jaskier opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked flustered and then flummoxed, though Geralt pretended he didn’t notice since he couldn’t figure out why. Then Jaskier laughed. “Ohh, you mean a horse,” he said. “Not often, not since adolescence, though I can still manage a decent seat when needed. Why? Should it be part of my training? I can’t say I’ve noticed all equestrians have a juicy booty but I don’t know if I’ve been looking for the trend.”

 “Hm,” Geralt answered, aware it wasn’t an answer at all. “My job today is determining your limits.”

 “Yeah,” Jaskier agreed, probably because they’d already been over this before starting. There was also that flirtatious lilt to it that Geralt was realizing he should have been able to identify from the start. 

 Fuck.

 Jaskier was one of those people who stopped by the club a few times a month and spent more time off to the side drinking smoothies and watching the people around him than he did exercising. It was a surprise he was able to keep up with the exercises Geralt had designed to easily break him. “Your lower body is better developed than I assumed.”

 “Thank you for the compliment, even though I think what you really mean is you assumed my fitness level is the same as a 3 year coma patient and tested me accordingly. I don’t think I’m even insulted by that. Though we could have saved some wasted time if you’d ever seen me naked.”

 Geralt leveled him with an unimpressed expression designed to ask ‘why would I want to do that?’

 Jaskier flushed but didn’t look particularly embarrassed or emasculated, which was maybe the first thing he’d done in his favour. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, “why does anyone?”

 ****

 “I hear you’ve taken on the Viscount de Lettenhove as a client,” Lambert said, looking far too relaxed against the bar. 

 Geralt shrugged. He had six new clients since the last time he’d spoken with Lambert and the name didn’t sound familiar.

 “Lord Julian?” Lambert continued. “Has a reputation for being very generous in bed, both generally and -“ he made a vague gesture to his dick. “A good third of the people at the club have either already had sex with him, want to have sex with him, or a combination of both. During your session last week, Rodgie said Lettenhove fucked him so well he thought he was gay for another three months, like he’d gone temporarily blind to the charms of women it was so good.”

 Geralt scowled. 

 “I’m just repeating what he said. Don’t pretend you’re beyond gossiping about this.”

 “I can’t place the name,” he admitted instead of answering that. Beyond gossip? Apparently not. Seeking it out? No. Especially about someone referred to as Lord Julian.

 “Really? Tall-ish. Handsome-ish. Good with his hands. Treadmill squad can’t seem to take their eyes off him. Was in on Thursday.”

 New client. Thursday. “Jaskier?”

 “Yes,” Lambert agreed with a snap of his fingers. “That’s the name he uses. Rich people, eh?”

 Jaskier?

 Lambert shook his head. “I can’t tell if you just don’t notice people or if you genuinely aren’t into dick, sometimes.”

 ****

 Geralt was into dick.

 Sometimes.

 ****

 He noticed. 

 Not anything different about Jaskier. The man still talked his way through whatever exercises Geralt threw at him, far too flirtatious for comfort, and never really seemed to notice that he was being openly appraised by almost every single person on exercise machines. 

 But Geralt did. 

 ****

 It wasn’t that Geralt noticed Jaskier, it was just that Jaskier was standing at the smoothie bar on a day they weren’t scheduled to work together and he noticed the incongruity of seeing Jaskier on a Friday morning.

 Wearing shorts.

 It wasn’t really the shorts that kept his attention, it was the same thing about Jaskier that he’d noticed from the first moment they’d started working together - Jaskier’s damn legs and those calves that told of a less sedentary lifestyle than Jaskier pretended.  Geralt didn’t understand why someone would stop by the gym in a health club only to lounge around doing nothing if they obviously spent a lot of time working out their legs (at least).

 It took him a bit longer than it should have to realize he was gawking just as badly as Jaskier’s damn treadmill fanclub. He turned his back and pretended he was very interested in something else. Anything else.

 “Hey,” Jaskier said, handing Geralt the second smoothie in his hands. Geralt was sure the person overdoing it on the rowing machine wilted in jealousy. “Are you in a session?”

 “Technically,” Geralt said and took a sip of the smoothie. It tasted like summer. 

 Jaskier grinned at him. “No show?”

 “Sauna.”

 “That’s an option?” Jaskier asked, but looked more amused than anything. “And here I’ve been exercising like a chump”

 “It’s an option.”

 “Of course, I wouldn’t leave you out here fully clothed. Seems like a waste.” He grinned at Geralt, sly in a way that included Geralt in the joke.  “Maybe you could advise me on the best ways to steam it up.”

 “It’s an option,” Geralt repeated.

 “I…” Jaskier started to say and then closed his mouth.  “Really?”

 “But if you do, you won’t make any progress.”

 “In my butt or with you?” he blurted out.  “And yes, I can hear that sentence is one finished thought away from a dirty joke but I’m going to be the bigger man here.”

 Geralt seriously doubted that.

 “Oh my god. Are you one finished thought from making that into a dick joke?” Jaskier looked delighted.  “Yass, Geralt.”

 The sauna door opened, and Geralt prepared himself to finish the last five minutes of the hour, which consisted of making sure his client was hydrated before sending him on his way, rather than continuing this conversation with Jaskier.  

 “Wait,” Jaskier said, with a hand on Geralt’s arm. “Is there something I can make progress on?”

 Geralt shrugged.  There wasn’t NOT something, which he knew wasn’t an answer either. 

 “Ok, so, that’s not a no. I acknowledge it’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no, and you’re not someone who has trouble with the word no. So.” Jaskier waved his hand, spraying smoothie from the top of his straw.  “That’s cool.”

 That’s cool, Geralt repeated in his head as he walked away. He probably should have said no just to save himself the pain of hearing that’s cool.

 ****

 “There’s a rumour you’re about to get laid,” Lambert said on their bi-weekly meet up for beer. 

 “That’s cool,” Geralt said with a shrug.

 Which, honestly, was worth it just for the look on Lambert’s face.

 ****

 “Ok,” Jaskier said on Monday, which also wasn’t one of their scheduled meetings. He showed up like some kind of annoyance mirage wearing a brightly coloured shirt and shoes meant for lounging. Geralt was in the middle of helping the Earl of Something’s second son work off his weekend bender. The man had run off to puke twice already and Jaskier’s shirt wasn’t helping any. Neither was the way Jaskier snapped his fingers in front of his clammy face. “Off you go, you’re looking a little peaked.”

 “Thank you!”

 Jaskier rolled a yoga ball over with his foot and perched on it, crossing his legs. It occurred to Geralt that Jaskier was like a male peacock posturing, with his vibrant clothes and stupid pose. It also occurred to Geralt that he shouldn’t be into it.  “We should go out for coffee and stuff.”

 “Fine.”

 “What?” Jaskier said, losing his balance and almost falling on the floor.

 “Coffee and stuff. Fine. Let’s go out.”

 “I…” Jaskier opened his mouth. Closed it.  “Expected more of an argument and to maybe leave disappointed.”

 Geralt shrugged.  “Why?”

 “I don’t know!” Jaskier threw up his hands and then stood.  His movements had an ease to them that they wouldn’t if he didn’t fucking exercise somewhere. Geralt was going to figure it out because he was pretty sure if he asked anyone they’d say it was from sex and life didn’t work that way. “Because you asked me if I ride and meant a horse!”

 “You stop by the smoothie bar, grab a lounge chair for a few hours, and take a nap whenever you come in.  Something needed to account for your legs.”

 Jaskier started laughing.

 “Don’t say it,” Geralt told him with annoyance.

 “You noticed,” Jaskier stressed. 

 ****

 “I hate that I know why you look so relaxed,” Lambert grumbled.

[ofallthethingsinlife]

Lucifer Morningstar x Suicidal!Reader

Word count: 1391

WARNINGS: suicidal behavior, heights, happy(ish) ending though

If you are having suicidal thoughts or considering hurting yourself, please reach out to somebody or at least call a hotline. You are loved.

It was a long walk up to the top of the building. Twenty-three floors, to be exact. I decided against the elevator for several reasons; one, interacting with other people wasn't really my forte, especially at the moment. Two, I mean, come on.. who wants to be trapped in a little metal box? And three, on top of it all, they play that horrendous music that drives anybody who has to go up or down more then a few floors absolutely crazy.

Anyways, I made it up to the roof of the building (the home of one of LA's many all-powerful corporations, to be honest I don't remember its name anymore. That is, if I ever bothered to learn it in the first place.) And if there had been any doubt in my mind about what I was about to do it was far gone now, if only because there is no way in hell I was walking back down those twenty-three flights of stairs.

Hell. I wonder if I'll go there, when this was all over. I sure hope not, but I might deserve it. I've never been the religious or faithful type, but a recent string of events made it clear that the burning place was, in fact, real. I've always found it odd though, even before I knew lucifer, what a bad rep the devil has. I mean he punishes the nasty people who go to hell, which makes him good, right? He just ended up being the poor bloke who got assigned the job.

A loud honk from far below shocked me out of my thoughts. I'd been up here, leaning against the door I entered the empty roof of the building through, way longer than I thought.

"Shit, somebody might notice that I'm missing soon," I mumbled to myself after glancing at my watch, it was nearly seven-thirty. I internally cursed myself for losing track of time, though it was one of my bad habits, and I should have expected it. What I did not expect, though, was somebody replying to the words I spoke to myself.

"Too late darling, I already did. Playing hooky to watch the sunset, are we?"

I just about had a heart attack as I spun towards my previously unnoticed companion, who was leaning against the waist high ledge that ran along the edge of the building. I recognized him instantly.

The definition of tall, dark, and handsome, he was finely dressed in a well fitting suit that would have cost at least three months of my wages. The slightly flirtatious twinkle in his eyes was ever-present, but if I didn't know better I would almost say there is a hint of concern on his face. But this is Lucifer Morningstar we're talking about here, so that's absolutely ridiculous.

"For fuck's sake, you scared the shit out of me Luci!" I said, running a hand over my face and trying to calm my racing heart. I met Lucifer, the owner of one of LA's most fabulously sinful clubs, Lux, several years ago. An idiot at the club drugged my strawberry martini, but Lucifer caught him as he tried to sneak me out the back. We'd been friends ever since, and about six months after that first encounter I accidentally found out that the man was, indeed, the literal devil.

"If you must know, I just had a bit of a rough day and way taking some time for myself," I fibbed.

Lucifer gasped, looking at me incredulously, "You naughty thing! Did you just lie to me?"

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks and tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"I don't- I don't know what you're talking about," I sputtered as I walked to stand a few meters away from him, looking over the edge of the roof.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" Lucifer said, standing up from his perch, "You just did it again!"

"I did not!" I hissed, as my temper started to rise. I huffed and hopped up to sit on the meter wide ledge, crossing my arms in frustration. "Would you just mind your own business and leave!?" I snapped, my voice beginning to rise. The wind started to pick up, blowing my hair into my face. The sky had begun to darken with clouds a few minutes ago, and it looked as if it might rain.

"How about you come down from up there, darling?" Lucifer said, the concern now evident in his voice. "We can go back to the club. Talk. Or maybe moan. Something to get your spirits up," he continued, but his jokes didn't have their usual effect.

"What? Come down from here!?" I yell as I rise to my feet on top of the ledge.

"Darling, please-" Lucifer started, panic flashing across his face.

"What?" I snarled, "are you afraid I'm a little too close to the edge? Am I seeming a little unstable, luci?"

"Please, just come down from there pet," Lucifer hushed as he reached for me, his hands trembling slightly.

"No!" I yelled as a took a step away from him, an inch of my left heel now over nothing but twenty-three stories of polluted LA air. "I.. I just want this all to be over now. I need it to be over. I'm just so tired." I sighed, suddenly unable to find the energy to prevent tears from streaming down my face. As if on cue, the sky began to spit, coating the lenses of my glasses in tiny droplets.

"Darling, look at me." Lucifer demanded gently.

It took all of my energy to drag my eyes off of the broken concrete of the roof and up onto his face.

"Talk to me. What on earth could cause you to make this idiotic decision? Just tell me, and I'll fix whatever mess you're in. I promise."

"I can't, Lucifer," I cried hysterically, "I just can't! You can't fix it! Nobody can fix it! It's just me, and there's nothing that you or anybody else can do!" My knees threatened to give out under me as a sobbed, causing me to sway in the increasingly temperamental wind.

"Well, if that turns out to be true you can always just pop on back up here, can't you?" Lucifer said, trying to reason with me, "what's the harm in living a little while longer, just in the odd case that things improve?"

I've never thought about it like that before. I mulled internally, it would indeed be a shame if things were about to start looking up but I just offed myself. I guess I could come back later. The sky began to open up, the wind whipping the rain across my face so forcefully it stung.

I was interrupted from my thoughts when, before I could react, lucifer took advantage of absent-mindedness and quickly took those last few steps until he was close enough to grab me by my shoulders.

"It's time to come down from there, darling," Lucifer sighed, his grip gentle but firm on my upper arms, "Come on down."

Before I knew it I was off the ledge, safe on the cold, wet concrete of the roof. Lucifer pulled me into his lap, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades as I sobbed.

"You bloody idiot," he scolded gently, "you scared the hell out of me, and since I'm the devil that's really saying something."

I chuckled weakly at his joke, sniffling and wipping at my nose.

"I'm sorry for all this Lucifer," I said, exhausted and shivering from the rain and cold.

"Oh hush now. Nothing to be sorry for, well, besides ruining this fabulously expensive suit," Lucifer teased, pulling me tight against his chest. His hair was plastered across his forehead from the rain, and his expensive suit jacket was soaking wet. "I think it's about time to go home now though, darling, before we freeze out here."

Lucifer scooped me up gently into his arms, carrying my damp, tired form bridal style. Between the utter exhaustion plaguing my body and the comforting smell of Lucifer's now quite wet shirt, I don't think we even made it into the elevator before I conked out in him arms. Thank God too, because I don't think I could have stood listening to that stupid elevator music.

[whats-the-story-tc]

13th-15th of May, 2020

"The One Where the Mask Drops"

[INCREDIBLY LONG SORRY]

Hey, I'm not dead! And to show you how incredibly not dead I am, let me tell you a story.

It's around 2 AM that Wednesday, I'm going to sleep. God knows I'm incredibly exhausted, but there's one last thing I needed to write into my diary. One last thing I couldn't go to sleep without.

"please be good to me today"

I went to sleep hoping that finally, after two weeks of feeling like shit when I thought about us, the tide would turn.

That morning, it rained. I immediately remembered a rainy Wednesday morning just like this two months ago, when the rain brought V back to me. I got very excited. Things were going to change for the better again, I felt it. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for class.

8:30 AM that morning, I'm getting ready for my 9 AM class. Google Classroom–notif. V. Private message. Uh-oh, I thought. The make-or-break moment, and not a minute too soon.

V: Thank you very much for your work!

I almost laughed out loud. "Wow, [Name], don't strain yourself!" I remember saying as I read it.

One infuriatingly boring English (as a foreign language) class later, it was time for V's class. I was ready five minutes in advance, but as I went on The Platform That Shall Not Be Named... no one was there. I found it odd. Usually, there are a couple of us by now. Anyway, I didn't enter the voice channel. I waited five minutes in solitude outside for someone to show up.

Well, V did. And I wasn't very well going to leave her alone, now, was I?

She greeted me 0.1 second after I joined. I tried not to be awkward about it just being the two of us, I immediately stroke up a conversation. I told her how I was already waiting, all the stuff you guys already know, and she asked if we had any lessons prior. I told her about one third of us having had English just now. We spent about two minutes alone together, as I rambled about the awkward and unfortunate situation and she listened, mostly in silence.

She was very audibly tired, and said very little, that much was to be expected from a 10 AM class. But... I might just be overthinking it, but I heard something there that concerned me. Something crushed and disappointed, something that told me she wasn't expecting only one person to show. There was something painfully lonely in that voice.

Bookworm Friend joined, about 3-ish minutes into class, and Debate Friend a minute or two later, but they were both muted, so I carried on. I asked V to tell us what happened in school in the past two days, what we missed out on, enthusiastically replying to everything I could, so she wouldn't feel like she was speaking into the abyss, so she'd know I was trying my hardest to be there for her. Then she brought up the tests she was correcting at the moment, even naming a really stupid mistake she encountered with a little laugh. But what really smacked me in the gut was when I brought up the small attendance, and she said: "There's nothing we can do." in this very melancholy voice, like she was giving up. She even texted the class group chat that she's waiting.

How do I know that she wasn't just simply tired, and that's why she sounded like that, so worn and discouraged, especially at first? Because as soon as the others, who don't belong in my friends' circle, started showing up, her voice and entire behaviour did a 180°, as if she suddenly woke up. But she didn't. I know for a fact she didn't. Nobody just wakes up that suddenly.

It took me until that afternoon to realise that I'd just spent 5 minutes with the real V, the same V I spoke to in early December, who didn't try to hide her emotions. Not from me.

If you only heard the next thirty minutes of class, you could never tell she was feeling sad to begin with. And there was a LOT to be heard. Starting with how she mispronounced "cheat somebody out of sth" as "EAT somebody out", which is... well... all I'm saying is, I fell on my knees and tried to laugh as silently as I could. Prime moment.

She said something along the lines of "We're all very sober here", after which I just texted my friends:

S: "Darling, you tell us drinking stories every two weeks, would you mind if I didn't believe you?"

and sometime after, this text was also sent, for which I will not be offering context:

S: "[Name], that was enough sex for 10 AM, I'm gonna pass out"

And, of course, after all that went down, V saying "you can't satisfy everyone" sounded VERY different.

At some point, I attempted to joke around, but as she was reading a message in the chat that was sent at the same time, I got quite the half-assed response. But what happened in the last five minutes? Oh, that changed everything.

Art Friend knew how upset I was that V didn't reply at all to my assignment, and I told her I wanted to talk to V about it. During class, she texted me if I still wanted it, and I told her no, because I'm no longer upset with her. And what does this madwoman do? SHE ASKS ABOUT THE ASSIGNMENTS.

V is absolutely enthusiastic, she goes on about how much she liked what she saw and how creative we were. Art Friend asks about hers. Then comes my leap of faith. It's now, or never.

"I hope I didn't go too far..." I said, a bit nervous, not knowing how she'd react. She never did like me trying to undermine myself. And you guys... she chuckled. Incredibly soft and warm and just what I needed to feel at ease. That already threw me off, but then, she followed it up with: "No, I really-really liked it." I could tell she was smiling on the other side of the screen and that she was completely honest. I had to sit down after that, because I just couldn't believe what I heard. That I really just witnessed all that, that I got a reaction I couldn't overthink and/or misinterpret, because I heard it with my own two ears, in real time. I felt like I could do anything in the world.

And yet, the next day, I didn't do my usual notes for her test. Because what did Specs do all evening instead? I was fucking singing. I couldn't deny being a goddamn theatre kid if I tried.

Friday. The day of the test. I'm restlessly taking notes in the morning, but I don't have the time to get into the analytics of poems, only the basics of the dude's life and works. It makes me incredibly frightened, because V's tests are only easy if you come prepared — if you have no clue what she's talking about, abandon all hope. I had absolutely everything open for cheating that I could open, and you guys? I lucked out. Most of the test was just "Explain what [insert quote] means in 2-3 sentences", and if there's something I excel at, as you've probably noticed, it's talking. It was easy as could be.

The only thing making me anxious were my classmates. They were all trying to ask for help, constant questions and begging, everyone is hopeless, because they couldn't give two shits about preparing beforehand. They were all assured some loser was gonna give them the answers. And the some loser was me. I gave it to them, everything except for the final, longer essay. That was private, only meant for V to read. After all, how was I supposed to show them my essay, that ends like this?:

"Even if our existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness."

And yes, yes it is. Always. Look at me. I powered through weeks of a shitstorm, where every single day felt like years, where I no longer knew or cared what was going to happen. And let me tell you, the sun always shines beyond the clouds. You just can't see it yet. But GOD, you will. You will.

I needed time to write this. There's loads going on at the moment, not necessarily V-related, and I'm trying to work my way through it gently enough that I can make it the end sane and healthy. Currently, it's three weeks since all this happened. One and a half weeks left until school ends. I might get to see V in person again, but we'll see how it goes. All I know is that whatever happens, I can do it. Because even if my existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[jinxthequeergirl]

149 days & The Grieving Stage

Steve harrington x hopper!reader

Summary: things hurt but luckily you have people to help.

Song choice: Ease my mind by Ben platt

Warning: swearing/ angst

I also kinda wanted to make this a part of "unseen things" but I'm obviously probably not gonna work on that cause it sucked but enjoy this anyways

~~~~~

You and El both tumbled out of the car as quickly as you could and raced to your friends.

You where especially excited to see Steve again. He wrapped you in a hug and supn you around. "Hey dingus, don't hog her!" you grinned pulling away to met robin. "You've been keeping an eye on him?" you mumbled into her hair, you could feel her chuckle as he pulled you away holding you out at arms reach.

"There isn't really much to keep an eye on...you know he's crazy about you, plus he's awful at the flirting thing." You both laughed and could feel Steve come up beside you taking you from her grasp.

"Be careful steve, she's miss steal your girl." you joked leaning into him. He simply rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around you.

"Watch where you put your hands on my daughter, Harrington!" you both turned and spotted hopper pull up in his car.

"Holy shit..." you breathed you freed yourself from Steve's hold and watched el run towards him. Tears welled in your eyes as you watched them hug.

And from the back of your head you instantly remembered everything you where trying so hard to forget About that night. The overall fear and pain from that night, waiting in the ambulance with El and steve, waiting and hoping that by any sort of mirical it would be over and hopper and Joyce would make there way back to so everything would be normal.

But instead you got Joyce who gave you and your sister both a look from over wills shoulder that took all that hope and crushed it.

And now here he was. That stupid patterned shirt he insisted on calling "cutting edge", a huge smile, one you had to admit you hadn't seen in a while. And all you could do was stand there and stare at him. El pulled away looking back at you with the same excited grin and moved away a little making room for you.

And within an instatant you went racing towards him collapsing in his arms, so much so he stumbled a bit upon catching you in his arms before falling to your knees. You instantly felt your self sob into his shoulder murrmering things that you didn't even understand. You chocked out more tears as his hold on you tightened a little, finding hard to keep any sort of breath do your wheezing.

"Kid, kid, it's ok, everything is fine, deep breaths." You pulled your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He cupped your face in his hand rubing away tears with his thumb. "I...I...though...thought...thought You where...where..." you couldn't even mutter out the last sours before you coughed out another cry. He only nodded in response giving you a sympathetic look.

"I know...it's ok...it's all over now..." you wrapped your arms around him again. "Its all over...you can live life again." You nodded into his shoulder blinking away tears until you finally shut your eyes and relaxing in his hold.

You blinked your eyes again suddenly feeling the loss of warmth around you, you opened your eyes full taking in everthing around you and sighing lightly.

The moonlight filled your new room do to not owning any curtains yet. Or maybe Joyce had some and they hadn't been unpacked yet. Your bed was pushed up against one of the wall's with a small night stand that held a few things, a dresser was pushed against the opposite wall, really it wasn't much yet. You stared at the ceiling taking note of the glow in the dark stars the previous owner of the room had left.

Do to the moon light they wheren't doing much, but they still kept your mind off of what had just happened. Until finally they didn't and you broke.

You let a real sob wrack through your body and tears spill as you did your hardest to bite your lip and keep quiet making sure not to wake the other four members in the house.

You brought your fists to your eyes and held them there until explostions of color where the only thing you saw behind your eye lids, you could feel the mattress beneath you along with your cheeks and chin become soked as tears scilently continued to fall.

After what had felt like hours of tossing and turning in bed, crying off and on again. You finally sat up on the edge taking one of the two blankets on your bed and wrapping yourself up in it before crossing the room to the dresser.

Your eyes hurt and your feet where now cold from the wooden floor under you. You grabbed the phone from onto of it ignoring the picture frame you had purposefully facing down and sat in the little book in your window, you cracked it open inorder to obtain fresh air and started dialing the number.

You sat there for a few moments letting it ring, and ring, and ring, you stared out the window into the moonlit backyard.

Joyce told you when you moved in that maybe the three of you girls could go to the local garden center and pick out a few plants and stuff to start a garden back there.

You where suddenly yanked from the thought as a clearly exhausted voice filled your ear. "Hello?"

You took a shaky breath and turned from the window to look down at the phone cord. "Hey Harrington..." you finally breathed.

"Y/n? Are you ok? What happened?" you could hear the sleep in his voice vanish with every question along with the shuffle of bedsheets. "I..." you stopped to clear your throat. "I'm just holding you to that promise you made before we left...it's not to late is it?"

Before you moved steve made the promise that no matter the time, the issue, the want he would answer the phone and be there for you.

That was the same day you missed your chance to tell him you loved him. And that you had since God knows when. Instead you cried barrelly able to get a "I'll miss you." out.

You reached over to your night stand and grabbed the alarm clock to check the time in the light. 1:40.

You mentally cursed yourself as you set it back down and leaned back. "No not at all what's up?"

"Just...just a nightmare..." You combed a finger through your hair and sighed. "I'm sorry...was it about-"

"No it..it was different this time..."

He humme. "Care to talk about it?"

"I..it's late I just wanted a little comfo-"

"No, no, hey I'm up now so you have to tell me." you chuckled and took a breath.

"Y/n?" you licked your lips before answering. "I saw...him..."

"Who?"

"My...my dad." you croaked looking back out the window.

"Shit...y/n I'm so sorry...I..." he trailed off attempting to find the words to comfort you. You only laughed when you realised it. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing...nothing. Just you always where just the worst at these kinda things."

He gasped a little and you could only imagine him placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Wow no matter how far away you still manage to hurt me y/n." You laughed again.

"It's times like these I wonder-"

"Why the hell I'm your friend?" you asked do ishing his scentence.

"Yea." he replied. Steve sat at the edge of his bed, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear all the while he held a photo he stole from your photo album.

His heart swelled a little just looking at it. You where happy, happier than you have been lately. And he looked at you in that picture with the same goofy grin he was wearing now.

"Steve?" he jumped at the voice instantly putting the photo down. "Did you fall asleep over there?"

He lied back down. "No...not at all...I wouldn't dream of it."

You smiled softly. "How are the kids?...and robin?.." you asked.

"The little shit's are fine...they miss the three of you a hell of a lot, speaking of which you should be gettinging something in the mail soon."

"Oh?"

"Yea...you've been gone a month and we decided to wip something up for you guys."

"What is it? You asked curiously."

"Can't say...don't wanna spoil the surprise."

"Right I forgot Mr. Steve "the surprise king" Harrington."

He rolled his eyes but mustered a smile. "Whatever."

There was a beat of scilents Before you spoke again. "I miss you Steve..."

"Hey, I miss you too....but you'll be here for Christmas soon enough."

"Steve that's so long..."

"No...149 days to be exact...it'll fly by and before you know it you'll be back in Hawkins."

"You've been counting?"

"Of course I have." you hummed and again went quiet for a moment.

"Listen there's something...something I've been meaning to tell you.."

"Oh yea?" you opened your mouth but the words refused to come out.

How difficult was it to just say it? Why no matter what the words never fully formed on your tounge. You sighed. "You know what never mind...it can wait.."

"How long?" he asked clearly anxious. "149 days to be exact...it's better if i tell you then."

"Oh c'mon at least give me a hint?" You shook your head with a smile. "No...I wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise." you joked. He laughed making your heart jump." just swear to not find someone to replace me within that time frame."

"I swear. No one would even come close to you." You smiled softly. "Uh listen thanks for taking my mind off of things....you should probably get some sleep....I promise to call in the morning if anything happens."

"Just call no matter what."

"Ok...goodnight shit head."

"Night loser."

You hung up the phone and sat there for a while. Letting things pan over in your head.

Your mind was finally off of your dad for a little bit. And you though about how you said you would tell him at Christmas and wondered of you even meant that, you wondered if he really meant the last thing he said about not finding anyone else.

"Knock knock..." you looked over to your door and found Joyce peeking in.

"Hey...what are you doing up?" you asked turning so your feet touched the cold floor.

"I could ask you the same...another nightmare?"

"Yea...something like that.." she let her self in shutting the door and leaned against the dresser. "How do you not...not have nightmares?...I mean you where right there..."

"Well I never said I didn't..." She said picking up the picture frame and looking at it.

"How do you keep it together then?"

She glanced at you but kept her eyes on the picture for a moment. "Someone's gotta be strong for You kids..." she took the picture and made her way over to you sitting down.

"You don't have to be all the time."

She nodded. "I know...but life had been so rough on you guys already...it helps." You leaned your head on her shoulder and looked at the picture frame in her hands.

"I don't remember these." she said looking at it with you. In the frame was a photo of you do and your dad, tucked outside of it was a picture of you Steve and robin.

You smiled pointing to the one of you and hopper. "The night me and el went to the snow ball...I told him it was an important night for all of us and we had to remember it. He fought me on it but eventually gave in."

She smiled.

"What about this?"

"That was the day we moved...johnathan wanted to make sure I had something good to remember them both by...I miss them all so..so much..." you mumbled.

"I know..."

"Will it ever...not hurt?" you asked sniffiling.

"No...not Right away...just give it a little time..." she placed the picture frame on the bed stand.

"I think you should get some sleep...sleep in extra long if you need."

She kissed your forhead before you got up and walked over to your bed. "Y/n..." you and Joyce both looked up and saw El come in with puffy red eyes that matched your own. You opened your blankets and she quickly made her way over and fell into bed next to you.

"Hey it's ok...it was just a dream..." you kissed her head and Joyce quietly left the room letting you two get some sleep.

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Future Looks Good

Ben Barnes x Female Reader

A/N: This week has been really tough on me. I’m bloody submerged with clients’ requests, journalists’ requests, and on top of that everybody seems to think I’ve got a magical solution to all of their problems...  Whatever. All of that to tell @benbarnesescape that i’ve only survived all this shit because I kept reading her Ben Barnes’ stories every night before I went to sleep. Thank you for the inspiration, darling, because I’ve been dealing with some serious writer’s block lately... Go check out her works, you won’t regret it! 

Word count : 1417

Warnings : none

God I’m such a sucker for that Billy Russo look. Goddamn. 

Ben friggin Barnes. Was he ever going to stop leaving you speechless everytime you thought it was a good idea to watch a movie he starred in? In your defense, you’d only seen two : and that’s because you weren’t given much of a choice. As much as you would rather go grab a couple of Spritz’es with your friends on Friday night, movie premiers were an obligation. Especially when your face – and body – took 80% of all the screening time.

Your apartment was glowing on the inside, Annick Goutal candles emanating warmth and woodish smell. Here and there you could spot a pillow, a wool blanket and a couple of soft furs scattered on the carpented floors. Britt had left early tonight – she had an early exposition tomorrow at the gallery, which you were thankful for, to be honest.

Five episodes of the Punisher were frankly a lot more than you could handle.

It all started quite innocently, when you thought about it. Britt came over with a nice bottle of Chardonnay and stories to spill about her ex. Indeed, it has been three weeks since she became single and you both had been enjoying it to the fullest – as a matter of fact, this was so far the only evening you decided to stay in. Once your sushi order had been devoured and the second bottle of wine had been opened – Cabernet d’Anjou this time – you were stupid enough to ask what Britt wanted for dessert.

‘Eye-candy, obviously,’ she smiled at you mischeviously, already switching from some random music channel to Netflix. Your entire body had literally gone cold at her statement.

‘Britt,’ you began warningly. ‘We are not watching the Punisher’.

‘Fuck yes we do’,  she exclaimed, a happy smile blooming on her lips. Seeing you wince slightly, she sighed. ‘Oh come on Y/N. You have no idea what you’ve been missing. This is like the greatest rave you’ve been invited to and for some reason you choose to ignore the invitation!’

Raising your eyebrows at her quite picturesque metaphore, you glanced at the screen, where Netflix offered you to stare at your friend Benjamin Barnes until you couldn’t bear seeing his sinfully handsome face anymore.

‘You know I don’t watch movies with my friends in them,’ you finally said. ‘Especially where my friends play murderers or bastards.’

‘Barnes is a bastard alright. Being that hot should be illegal,’ Britt smirked at you, pushing the red play button. You groaned, serving yourself another glass of wine. This was bound to be a long night.

You weren’t wrong. The clock just struck three in the morning, yet you still stared at your MacBook’s screen massaging your temples.

Just as you predicted, none of this little TV series binging was going to do you any good.

As soon as you met Ben for the first time, you promised yourself you were never going to fall for him. You guys had hit it off right away, getting along like a house on fire. Your chemistry on the screen was indeniable, and since you were extremely comfortable with each other, you accepted to act out a romantic relationship in a couple of steamy movies, including David Robert Mitchell’s new Bonnie and Clyde narrative. If you were going to be honest with yourself, it was right around that time that you realized you might have crossed that dangerous line. Without even noticing at first, you started falling for the man, admiring those beautiful sparks in his chocolate eyes, his easy and heartwarming smile, the way he cared for you in all those little ways, bringing you coffee, running back to his trailer to fetch you a sweater, taking you out for dinner when you learned that you failed an important audition.

Luckily, just when you realized how fucked up your feelings towards your best friend were, he was casted in the next big gig of Patty Jenkins. You had to temporarily part ways and you haven’t seen him for more than five months now.

This was doing your crazed heart so much good you started to think straight like a normal person again.

Until this fucking Punisher movie night.

So now, circling the rim of your glass with your pinky absentmindedly, you stared at Ben’s twitter page. You didn’t even know what brought you here, but you also knew you’d been staring at it for an hour now. Your dizzy mind, filled with flashing images of Billy Russo shagging that beautiful actress, begged for some stupid, irrevocable action.

Exhaling slowly, you clicked tweet. You fingers tapped the words against your better judgement, and it wasn’t long before you hit send.

Staring at the screen, your heart beating double time, you watched your tweet hit a hundreds of likes, retweets and ‘ahhh’ comments per minute, the sentiment of terror growing in your chest.

Scanning the tweet that you wrote, you gulped down the remainders of white wine from your glass. Had you just singlehandedly undermined the future of your friendship with Ben?...

Y/N-Y/L/N @y/n_y/l/n 2 min

I know I’m late to the party and all that but… #holyshit @benbarnes, who is that hot guy named Billy Russo that you’ve been hiding from me for so long? When are you going to introduce us to each other?

By the time you finished re-reading your tweet, it spread like plague, judging from the number of retweets. Your home fell silent, nothing perturbing the heavy atmosphere, but the sound of your computer cooling down.

Biting your bottom lip so hard it hurt, you clicked back to Ben’s twitter page, mentally cursing yourself for being so stupid. Damn Britt and damn her eye-candy cravings…

And then your heart dropped. 1 new tweet, was all it took for you to start sweating profusely. Barely remembering how to breath – God you were pathetic – you clicked on the notification.

Was it his answer to you? If it was, was it as poignant and mocking as you knew Ben could be sometimes?

Sweet baby Jesus, what have you gotten yourself into?

Your lips raw and blood-red by now, you braced yourself for the worst…

Ben Barnes @benbarnes 1 min

Oh thank God, @y/n_y/l/n, the pretty boy has been bragging about you for months now. How does tomorrow sound? He said he’d pick you up around seven-ish. He also says its a date.

You blinked, dumbfounded, re-reading his answer again. And again. And again.

Jesus Holy Christ on a bicycle! Ben friggin Barnes had just asked you out?!

Hold your horses, Y/N, you commanded to yourself, feeling your cheeks turn red. This must be some kind of joke… He wasn’t even in New York these days!

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach starting to grow, bitterness making its home on your tongue.

You should have known better than to put yourself out there like that. This was worse than any mockery Ben could have come up with, this playing along for the public image thing…

If only he knew how much you ached for him all along…

Your attention switched back to your computer, your screen going alight. Another tweet on Ben’s page. Telling yourself nothing could be worse than what you were going through right now, you clicked on the notification – again.

Ben Barnes @benbarnes 1 min

What do you want me to tell him, @y/n_y/l/n? I ought to say, he’s looking pretty threatening with this gun he’s aimed at me, but I know you can turn him into a kitten just by saying yes. Don’t tell him that though, he’s afraid of showing his soft side.

A lump in your throat was hard to ignore as you laughed quietly, covering your mouth. Was Ben serious? Your best friend Ben, your partner in crime Benito Barnsoia, is actually asking you out on a date, being all nervous and basically telling you you’re the one?!

Excited smile quickly becoming a part of your normal  physique, you typed an answer, short and simple.

Y/N-Y/L/N @y/n_y/l/n  just now

@benbarnes, I am a sucker for guns. And kittens. But don’t tell him that. Seven sharp. My place. It’s a date.

Your laughter broke the silence of the room, resonating in its walls. Slamming your computer shut, you put your elbows on its surface, staring into the dimness of the room, you heart beating softly.

A date with pretty boy Billy Russo.

If he was your future, than damn it looked good.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Cursed Communication

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: You’re going to assassinate an archangel for his assertion over your anatomical authority. Prompt: For @gabriel-monthly-challenge’s December Prompt: Rev’s Ridiculous and Random (p)Rompt: “This month’s prompts are brought to you by the letter R! Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to include the following words in your fic/art/other creation: Robotics, Recalcitrant, Rhubarb, Regular, Raining.”

(Yeah I’m not joking. Those words are in here, in the same sentence. You Cannot Miss It.) Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader Warnings: Alliteration, crack-ish in part, fluff Words: 1622

A/N: I was actually hesitant to tag @gabriel-monthly-challenge  for this because when I first read through it I thought ‘that’s a silly prompt. I’m in!’ but when I went back and re-read it…I don’t actually know if it counts as its own prompt or if it’s supposed to be worked into one of the other (actual) prompts? But what the hell; I wrote a thing off their idea and even if this doesn’t count for the monthly round-up I feel like I should credit GMC (and @revwinchester) specifically because it is sort of, technically, completely their fault. Even if I didn’t do it right. SO. There’s that. But anyway; this week has been a complete fail for me every step of the way so I wrote something for an idea that made me laugh. Hopefully it amuses you too. I was gonna try to do a straight crack fic but I couldn’t help but make it fluffy, I guess. It’s my thing~. In any case, please enjoy.

    How did it all go so wrong?

You thought (‘thought,’ as in past tense) that you and Gabriel had a good thing going. You’ve been friendly almost since you first met, and absolutely flirty since then– much to the annoyance of Sam and Dean, the latter of whom actually took a swing at Gabriel to…defend your honor, you guess. It was funny, and Gabriel had good humor, and you liked him.

Liked. Again, past tense.

Because after that first meeting, things mellowed out enough that Sam and Dean forgave his little ‘not-as-dead-as-you-thought-I-was’ act and he started hanging around more and more. And the flirting turned up more and more– but never went past that. Because as much as you liked him, you weren't completely sure he liked you.

Now, you’re pretty sure you made the right call.

“Gabriel!” you snap, trying to be courteous to the sleeping library occupant just down the hall.

However Sam walks in, yawning, and runs a hand through his hair, bringing it from ‘mussed’ to ‘model’ in seconds. He has a line on his face from where he fell asleep on his book. It’s the only thing that keeps you from hating his ability to literally roll out of bed (or worse) looking like that. “What’s wrong?” he asks you and looks around.

You can only seethe. “Gabriel,” you hiss as Cas and Dean (dear absent god why him) walk into the room.

Sam frowns. “‘Gabriel’ what?”

You point at your mouth.

“Gabriel…cursed you?”

You nod.

“That’s…not possible,” Cas says, perplexed. You glare at him. Semantics are not your biggest concern right now.

“What did he curse you with?” Dean prompts.

You rub the space between your eyes. You don’t want to say. Or rather, you don’t want to find out what you're going to say. It’s really a crapshoot at this point. But Sam says your name seriously, and you sig– exhale heavily.

“Alliteration…always assures annihilation.”

They all blink in unison. It’s a little creepy.

“Uh…what?” Sam asks.

You aim your glare at him. He flinches, so that at least is satisfying. “I am cursed to continue this conundrum with my communication,” you say through grit teeth.

Dean snorts. You look at him and he’s smiling in a way that suggests he’s holding back laughter. He holds his hands up in mocking surrender but he can barely keep his lips together.

“Ah…alliteration?” Sam guesses.

You nod. Sam’s mouth twitches, and within seconds both he and Dean are laughing raucously. Cas remains impressively stone-faced but you bet he’s laughing inside. You cross your arms and glower at New Mortal Enemy Numbers Two and Three. Number One, of course, being a certain archangel. Who you had liked– up until he took your mouth hostage.

“Well, at least now you know how it feels to get fucked over by Gabriel,” Dean says and pats your shoulder before leaving. Asshole.

“I’ll see what I can find in the library but, uh, I’m not sure what anyone can do about finicky archangels,” Sam says, smiling, and leaves. Bastard.

“I’m sure it will be over in a day or so,” Cas says, awkwardly mimics Dean’s pat, and goes. Dick.

You glare up at the ceiling and think about how you can get through this without saying one single syllabl–

If this alliteration thing spreads to your thoughts you don’t care what it takes you will find Gabriel and pluck him like a dead chicken.

 You run out of your room and slam the door shut. “Gabriel I will WASTE YOUR WORTHLESS–!” You shut your mouth and start breathing through your nose. The thudding and beeping on the other side of the door continues and you stomp away, towards the bunker exit, and almost get there when Dean, Cas, and Sam all come out of the library and block your way.

“What now?” Dean asks but he jolts when he sees your face. You’re barely holding back tears, so you can only imagine how you look. Having someone take over your main outlet for communication is decidedly not fun.

You point your finger back towards your room so quick you pull something in your arm. You don’t care. “It’s raining rhubarb on the regular and there are recalcitrant robotics running around like rascal–” You clamp your hands over your mouth and scream into them. “GABRIEL!”

“You rang?” Gabriel says, appearing on the nearest desk and grinning. It’s all you can do not to grab a sharp object and just start stabbing. “Oh come on! I’m giving you a lot of material to work with.”

You’re shaking. Cas looks concerned. If he wants to keep his brother, he should be.

“Uh, Gabriel?” Dean, of all people, sounds worried. “Unless you want to die for real you should probably stop.”

Gabriel is about to say something but when he looks at you, really looks at you, he actually blanches. Apparently the murderous rage-waves floating off your body manage to get to him, because he snaps his fingers and the weight on your tongue vanishes.

“Talking…I can just…talk normal…say things that don’t…” The test works and you let out a huge sigh. The relief of having your mouth back under your complete control is so great that you actually sink to your knees.

“Gabriel, wai–” Cas sighs and you look up to see the archangel is gone. You shake your head but let it be. You need the space to cool down before you find out what the hell is going on.

 Gabriel, apparently, needs more space than you do. You’ve been trying to contact him for hours and gotten nowhere. So you go to the library where Dean sits on one side of the table with the laptop and Cas sits on the other side with a book. Sam is absent, but that’s all right– you only need the angel.

As if sensing that, Cas looks up on your approach. “Hey. Can you do me a favor?” you ask, and then launch into it. “Gabriel’s ignoring me. Can you tell him to come by; that I just want to apologize?”

“I will relay your message,” Cas says confi–…with assurance.

“Thanks,” you say and pull on your jacket.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asks, looking up over the computer.

“Just out back to get some air.” And privacy, in case Gabriel does decide to swing by.

There’s a small table and some crappy old folding chairs out there. You pick the most stable of the lot and squint at the darkness. Despite the uncomfortable seating and cold air, you resolve to wait a while, and pull out your phone so you’re not quite so bored.

A blanket is dumped in your lap and you jolt up, but Gabriel plops into the chair next to you and huffs. “What’s wrong with your room?”

“Nothing. At least, not anymore,” you say and pull up the blanket. Gabriel winces, but you put your phone away and look at him. He looks anywhere else. You sigh. “I’m sorry I got…that upset. It was probably an overreaction on my part. I just– I’m sorry for whatever I did. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Gabriel says vehemently, eyes snapping up at you as he sits up straight. “We’re actually–!”

You can practically feel Gabriel pulling the handbrake on that one, and after a few seconds you decide to fill the silence. “So what was the point of that?”

Gabriel looks at you again. It’s a small victory, but a victory still. “The point?”

“You don’t…do stuff like that without trying to make a point,” you say. “Teach lessons. Or get revenge on Dean, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat your sandwich.”

Gabriel snorts. “No. No lesson. No revenge. Just…I thought you’d find it funny. We were talking about alliteration a few days ago.”

You do remember that. Joking around that started out verbal and then devolved into playful shoving, but what you remember the most is when he accidentally wrapped his arms around you and–

You think you might get it. And you’re afraid of what Gabriel might do next if you don’t broach the topic. Like a grown-up. “Gabriel,” you say. “Were you…pulling my pigtails?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s a legitimate expression,” you say. “And don’t dodge the question.”

He huffs and mutters, “Yes.”

You can’t help but smile. “Gabriel. You idiot.” And then you grab the back of his head and pull him in for a firm kiss before he can do anything else stupid. He doesn’t resist– in fact, he yields, and it’s up to you to pull away while he remains where you put him. You brush a bit of his hair away from his forehead. “All you had to do was say something.”

He smiles up at you. In an instant you’re draped across his lap, blanket and all, and the chair feels suspiciously sturdy. “I’m not so good at that. However…I am pretty good with my mouth in other ways.”

It’s the dumbest pick-up you’ve heard in a long while. It’s also perfectly Gabriel. You smile and lean in– only to stop a few centimeters from his mouth. “If I ever lose any amount of control over any part of my body ever again because of you I will end you. I’m guessing you’ve never been compelled but having experienced it twice now I can tell you, even just a small bit of it is not fun.”

“Understood,” Gabriel says quickly. He grins. “Completely clear and coherent my cupc–”

You press your lips to Gabriel’s and hope he really is good with his mouth in other ways.

He is.

[reddiesaltedcrisps]

New Years Reunion - Part One Finn Wolfhard x Reader

Word Count: 1,750 (ish)

Triggers: I don't think any, unless you take offense from your mum jokes then I’m so sorry

Gender of Reader: Fem.

Summary: Y/N get’s a visit from her best friend and fellow IT co-star, Finn. Y/N thinks that her and Finn’s friendships purely platonic, but could all that change when they both stay at Wyatt’s house for New Year along with the fellow IT cast?

Writers Note: Okay, so I only started my blog this morning so it’s my first time writing an imagine like this. I’m so sorry if it’s bad! If any part of you slightly enjoys it - or just pities me - please show it some love by donating a couple notes. Hope you enjoy!

Edit: Your girl messed up and now has #&157 on like every line and can’t fix it so please just ignore that lol

You stared up at your bedroom ceiling, deep in a swirling pool of thoughts.

You’d had a busy year, your movie “IT” had been released a few months ago, you’d moved to Canada, and you’d recently started a new school.

IT had been an extremely fun experience where you’d made lifelong friends, such as Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Chosen Jacobs, Jaeden Lieberher, Sophia Lillis, and of course Finn Wolfhard.

These kids had all become your closest friends, working on set didn’t even feel like working. You would always all constantly hang out and see each other, but since the hype of IT died down you didn’t get a chance too spend as much time together. No interviews, no photoshoots, no talk shows. Of course, this didn’t mean any of you were any less close, it was just hard not seeing each other as regularly anymore - especially Finn.

You were close with all the IT kids, but for some reason, you and Finn were glued at the hip. Whenever you hung out you’d feel this connection you’d never experienced with anyone else. You had the exact same sense of humour, exact same music taste and the exact same mind set.

Despite living in the same city, both of you were often busy and struggled to find time to see each other. Whenever it’d been a while since you’d met up, there’d always be a crazy reunion moment when you’d give each other “run hugs” whilst screaming. 

Whenever he texted or facetimed you, you’d feel the same reoccurring sensation in your stomach, it would flip like you’d just drove over a dip in the road and your whole body would radiate with warmth. Even when he smiled, you’d feel an aching pain in your chest.

However, you knew this was just because you loved him so much as a friend. This is what you’d both tell everyone, so often that they didn’t even sound like real words anymore.

“We’re just friends. Just friends.” You’d try convincing the interviewers, fans and even your friends. Yet still, no one believed it. None of your IT friends believed it either, they’d all constantly tease you both, and try and make you admit your, non-existent, feelings. The fans would also go crazy, creating edits of you guys shipped together, making compilation videos of you both with Ed Sheeran singing about love in the background, and commenting on all your posts together saying just how “cute” you guys were.

We are just friends, you thought to yourself, squinting your eyes slightly at the ceiling, just really, really, good friends.

Your phone vibrated, snapping you out of your thoughts. You checked your lockscreen, and right on cue, your stomach fluttered.

Finn:   Hey, remember me? Honestly, you probably don’t since its been that long. Anyways, feel free to reject me on this, but would it be alright if I came over. You know, it’s casual though, I just happened to be in the neighbourhood :)

A smile spread across your face. It had been nearly two months since you’d seen Finn as you’d been back in the UK visiting family.

You swiped to reply.

Y/N:   Miss me that much, huh? And of course, you can absolutely come in, how long will you be?

He replied in an instant, causing your mind to race.

Finn:   Well, hopefully not much longer as I’m freezing to death out here. Also, I really like the snowman you built. I mean, it’s kind of small but I guess that way it portrays a more realistic image of you.

You rushed to your bedroom window, dropping your phone along the way. There, standing outside at the bottom of your driveway was Finn. You opened your window, the freezing air causing an array of goose bumps to spread all down your arms.

    “How long have you been down there?” You shouted below to a rather cold looking Finn.

    “Long enough for my body to shrivel back into itself!” He called back up, smiling far too much for only wearing a grey sweater when it was negative five degrees (Celsius) outside.

You ran downstairs to unlock the front door and opened it, only to release a thousand flips loose in your stomach.

    “Y/N!” He said through a wide smile, engulfing you in a hug and spinning you round. “Its been far too long. I’ve missed you!” It was a good thing he said that when your head was resting on his shoulder, otherwise he would’ve caught how red your face was, even though you couldn’t understand why you were blushing.

    “I’ve missed you too, Frog.” You replied with a giggle, his arms still wrapped firmly round you. He laughed and began to take his shoes off, while you asked him about his birthday.

    “Crazy isn’t it, fifteen now, that means we have nine months of being the same age before you turn sixteen.” He winked after making this comment, to which you playfully pushed him.

    “You’ve spent too much time around Jack, you’re beginning to sound like him.” You said as he pretended to react like he was offended, dropping his jaw. This caused you to laugh, he always knew how to make you smile.

    “Speaking of Jack himself,” He began, “We might be seeing him soon.” Your smile grew wider.

    “How come?” You replied in excitement. You hadn’t seen any of the IT cast, besides Finn, in three months.

    “Well,” Finn continued, “Nothings official yet, but there’s talk of the IT gang staying over at Wyatt’s for New Year. He still has to fully convince his mom, but the plan is for her to go visit family for a week or so while the eight of us get Wyatt’s place to ourselves.” He finished triumphantly.

Your face ached from smiling by now, “That such an amazing idea! I miss them all so much.”

    “Me too,” Finn agreed, “Also it would be quite convenient for me, as my family have gone up North for a couple weeks and I need a place to crash, hence why I‘ve turned up at your door.” He replied with a smile, gesturing to his suitcase, that up until now you hadn’t even noticed. He read the surprised expression on your face. “My moms checked it’s okay with your mom,” He continued, “Besides, if we are going to Wyatt’s then I’ll only be staying here for tonight, and I guess the same applies for you.” He finished, beaming down at you.

    “Wow,” You exhaled, “My moms kept this a complete secret from me.” Finn laughed softly.

    “I hope you’re okay with it. God, if I’m being honest Y/N, I don’t think you’ll ever realise just how much I’ve missed you. Nothings nearly as fun without you.” You gazed up into his swimming brown eyes, you felt waves of warmth float from your head to your toes.

    “It’s more than okay Finn, I’ve missed you loads too.” You replied. His cheeks were toned red, but you thought it must’ve just been from the cold.

    “You know who I’ve missed even more though,” His face spread into a smile as he continued, “Your mom.” You laughed, his jokes were terrible, but your humour had low standards.

    “Way to ruin and emotional moment, Tozier!” You retorted while ruffling up his hair, “Can’t say the same about your mom though, as I spent last night with her.” Finn’s mouth opened wide before stretching out into a burst of laughter. 

    “Oh, you are so dead Y/S/N!” He shouted as you began to make a run for it. He chased after you.

You ran down your hall and took a right, only to find yourself cornered by him in the living room. You made a dive for the couch and landed spread along it, using a cushion as a shield for extra protection. The two of you were still in fits of laughter as he also made a dive for the couch, landing on top of you, pretending to attack you. Neither of you could breathe properly, both out of breath from running and laughing. Once you’d both calmed down, you realised the awkward position you were both in. Finn was lying on top of you with his arms draped around your neck, while your arms were wrapped around his back. For a second, you thought both your faces were moving closer together, until almost touching, but you must’ve imagined it. You were both interrupted anyway by your mother calling you.

    “Y/N, honey, it’s time to get ready for bed! You too Finn!” She called from the kitchen. Finns face was bright red, yours felt like it’d been set on fire. Finn edged off you, your heart sank.

    “Um, we should get ready for bed, I guess...” He trailed off. You moved off the couch.

    “Er, um yeah, yeah, good um, idea.” You couldn’t think straight, had you too nearly kissed or had you just imagined it?

 You lay in the darkness, staring up at your bedroom ceiling, only this time Finn was sleeping on the floor next to you.

I wouldn’t have wanted to kiss him anyway, you thought to yourself, I don’t like him like that, plus I imagined it anyway, he’d never be interested in me. Your thoughts were disrupted.

    “You know, this might sound kind of weird and creepy, but we’re actually meant to be staying over at Wyatt’s tonight. The New Years plan is happening, everyone arrived at his this afternoon, they’re all already there.” You sat up, listening carefully, he continued, “I just didn’t really want to tell you because you know...” He inhaled sharply, “I knew then we’d have to leave today, and we wouldn’t get to spend any time together just the two of us. I told the others we’d be late. You’re my best friend Y/N, I can’t not be around you.” He paused, “It was a stupid idea though.”

    “No,” You replied, “It was a great idea.” Your pulse was high, you could feel heat burning from your face. You were Finn’s best friend. Even though part of you for some reason hoped for that moment you - nearly - shared on the couch to be real, you were just happy that you and Finn were so close.

You fell asleep smiling, little did you know, so did Finn.

Writers note: Okay, this isn’t my best work but I've planned out the next parts and when they arrive at Wyatt’s in part two it gets a lot better, this was me just setting the scene.

Also, if you read this far then have a lovely safe day :)

[avocadean]

A Short Break

A/N: I worked on this last night. I am trying to work on my angst, so I figured I’ll eventually (hopefully) build it up and cause pain. Pain? Sorry, I meant... entertainment.

If you want to be tagged in my work, just let me know! 

Title: A Short Break

Pairings: Dean x Sam x OlderSister!reader with light hints of Reader x Cas

Warnings: The usual. Light descriptions of pain, fluff, and pixie dust.

Words: 2040 ish (Don’t let the number fool you. It's quantity over quality).

Tags: @graceb200371

The heavy metal door closed behind you, letting your brothers know that you were back. Slowly, you crept down the stairs.

No one was in the war room, so you looked further. But, the library was empty too.

A wave of pain came, which took a breath with it when it left. You were hunched over, the back of a chair supporting you. At the sound of footsteps, your head raised. Bits of hair that had fallen from the hair-tie, and had clung to your dampened face, and others strayed as they pleased.

“Hey Y/N. How was the hunt in… Montana…?” Dean looked at you with a hopeful look, hoping he got it right.

“Colorado, Dean. She always takes cases from there.” you nodded at Sam, letting them know that Dean, was in fact, wrong. Again.

“...Whatever,” Dean looked like a toddler who’d been told ‘no’, “... anyone want a beer.”

Usually, you’d say something along the lines of ‘hell yeah!’. This time, though, you groaned in pain. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam and Dean.

They looked at you in worry, and before one of them could even ask, you sat on the floor before you could fall. Both rushed to your side.

“Where are you hurt?” Dean was in full on parent-mode, determined to fix the problem.

A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, which was followed by another groan of pain. “I wish I could tell you, little bro,” you looked up at him and Sam, a bead of sweat forming on your forehead, “...but this one ‘aint ‘gonna be fixed with some stitches and whiskey.”

“Y/N, what the hell happened.” Dean was more assertive, but a slight tremor was in his voice. He wanted to help his big sister. He needed to help his big sister.

Another wave of pain. “A freakin’- ah!” you were breathing deep and unsteadily, the pain increasing by the minute. Once you caught your breath, you continued, “...A stupid witch. I think-” another wave of pain, “Ah, ooh, that hurts. Phew. I think it was one of Rowena’s students or something- holy crap this isn’t cool.”

You curled into yourself, hoping it’d subdue some of the pain. It didn’t.

“Dean, I think there are ‘a hundred little goblins- ow -playing Russian roulette in my body.” This caused Sam to chuckle, which caused you to look up at him. With difficulty, “So are you numbskulls just gonna sit there, watch me slowly die-”

“You are not dying.”

“Dean, I’m probably dying.”

Sam butted in, expressing his concern and clearly not finding your humorous tone appropriate, “Y/N, shut up. And yes, we will carry you to your bed. The floor is for black-out-drunk nights only,” he added with a slight playfulness.

Your littlest brother read your mind perfectly, saving you some breath. They were very careful to not jostle you too much, but it didn’t do much good. The pain was searing, and you couldn’t even believe that you weren’t screaming out in pain.

And though you weren’t expressing your ailing vocally, your brothers could see it as plain as day.

“Sammy, I’m gonna stay with her. Try calling Cas, and tell him to get his feathered ass here.”

“On it.” he walked out.

Your body betrayed your want to not show any more signs of pain by starting to shake. Another sheen of sweat formed on your skin, leaving you a little chilly.

Dean was sitting on the side of your bed, facing your laid-down body. You were on your side, and staring at Dean.

“Funny, huh? I thought I’d be the last one to go. You know, first one out, last one out.”

“Y/N, stop. You aren’t going anywhere. You aren’t dying.”

You shifted your body slightly, regretting it the moment a shock of pain ran up and down it. “You never know. I could be.”

Dean looked like he was getting annoyed, but you knew he was just a little scared. “Y/N, shut up. Don’t talk like that.”

You huffed partly in annoyance and pain, “I’m just trying to make a joke- ooh that hurts,” he quickly reached out to hold your hand, “...You know me, I have to have some kind of drama.”

He shook his head and looked down at the bed sheet, then back to your face. You were pale, and looking weaker by the second.

“Y/N, seriously, don’t die.”

“Hey, Dean, calm down,” you reached up with your other hand, and cupped his cheek, “Cas is gonna get here and fix me up. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to crack a few jokes in,” your voice got a little weaker, almost undetectable, ”I hate to worry you two. My job is the opposite. My job is to protect you boys-”

“And my job is to protect you. I’m your brother.”

You looked at your brother in admiration, and awe. Proud of the man he grew up to be. “Dean, you’re my little brother.”

“So? I can still kick someone’s ass.”

“Oh, I never- hmm wow, pain is a thing,” Dean gazed on in worry, but you continued, “I never said you couldn’t.”

“So that mean’s I need to step up to the brother role-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You will always be the toddler who tapioca pudding all over himself for the hell of it. So just shut up.”

All you wanted to do was to reach up to your brother and give him a big hug, but the fading of your vision took over. Your body went limp.

“Y/N?” Dean quickly tried to wake you. “No. No no no. No, Y/N. It's you, me, and snot-nosed Sammy ‘till the end. It has always been us three. You’re not going to change that. Not now.”

He shouted for Sam, who came back within seconds, his cell phone still in hand.

“Where’s Cas?”

Sam was staring at your body. It was still. “He didn’t… he didn’t answer…”

“Godammit. Cas! Get your ass down here, so help me God I will literally pluck your feathers out one by one.” He was crying. Not sobbing, but enough to show that he was in peril, “It’s Y/N, Sammy. I don't- Cas should be here. He always knows when something isn’t right with her he-” the subtle sound of feathers flapping filled the room, causing both boys to whip their heads to the source.

Cas ignored the angry shouts from Dean. He was looking at you.

He was looking at the broken body that housed your soul. “Oh no,” Cas said to himself. He wasn’t ready for this. None of them were. He briskly walked over to your still body and placed his palm on your sticky forehead.

“What did this to her?” Cas was suddenly seething, trying desperately to bring you back. A soft glow came from his hand and was cast upon your body.

Dean answered, “She said it was a witch.”

“Of course.”

“What?”

“Y/N has magic in her body. My powers… they aren’t working right because of it.”

“Wha- what do you mean ‘they aren’t working right’! You gotta bring her back Cas!”

“Dean, I will do the best I can,” he looked at his friend and Sam and promised, “I’ll try my best.”

It was months since then. You had long been dead. And of course, Sam and Dean didn’t burn your body, They were hopfuly in getting you back. You were their big sister. They needed you.

Dean had been drinking himself into a rut, and Sam was constantly working out. They both tried to distract themselves, but it never ended up working for too long.

They had eventually tracked down the witch and killed her, and felt that they ‘avenged’ a part of you. But that still wasn’t enough for them. Sam and Dean were hurting, and neither of them knew how to make the hurt go away.

Sam lazily strolled into the library where Dean sat and leaned against one of the columns. He was covered in sweat and his muscles were tense. He watched Dean after catching his breath, and spoke, “Hey, do you- maybe later on -want to go into town and pick up some food with me? I could kill for a burger.”

Dean grunted in response, his nose buried in a lore book with a new bottle of Jack on his right.

“You know, I could kill for a burger. Extra cheese, tomato- oh, you look worried, fellas,” you finished with a smirk. Your brothers looked at you as if they were seeing a ghost.

They might have been. Dean was the first to react, grabbing his gun and setting his face even more. Sam was next, and quickly grabbed a silver flask of holy water. Both brothers were ready for a fight that they never wanted.

“Oh, thanks, Sam, I’m parched.” You walked over to him, took the flask, and drank. A sour look made its way to your face, “Bleh. We really need to change the water in those more often. It tastes like dirt.”

Once you handed the flask back to a very stunned Sam, you looked at your boys. “My god, guys. You look awful.” Sam scuffed, and Dean was still standing with his gun in his hands, still in hunter mode.

“Dean, it’s her. It’s Y/N.” Sammy tried to convince him. Instead of taking his word for it, he fished a silver knife out of his boot and promptly held it out to you.

“My god, let's add another scar to the list…” you slowly made a shallow slice on the underside of your arm. Before you even had the chance to look up, Dean was clinging on to you for dear life. You clung back. Sam joined soon after.

After a while, the three of you broke from your moment, and just looked at each other. Dean started to talk but was stopped.

“Don’t ask me how. All I know is that I was dead- I think -and then I’m waking up in my bed.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We buried you.” You looked at Sam, a little shocked at his confession.

“You idiots buried me?! Why didn’t you burn my body?” your patience was wearing thin, but then it dawned on you, “I woke up in my bed though. Not in a box.”

Sam was as confused as you were, “That one is still a mystery.”

Dean huffed, “Y/N if we did that, you wouldn’t-”

“Yes, I know Dean. I know I wouldn’t be here, but we promised each other! We said that if one of us dies-”

“We burn the body,” he finished in a lighter manner.

“Yes. So, why didn’t you.”

“Because Cas told me not to.”

You looked at him in confusion. “What?”

Sam joined in, “He told us to not burn your body. He said something about making this right.”

“So you listened to him?” You were fuming, “Yes, I’m so happy to see you guys, but seriously? You listened to Cas?”

“He said he would bring you back, Y/N, and he did! I’m sorry that we cared about getting our sister back.” Dean started raising his voice, his emotions finally coming out, “You died! You are the one person I look up to- who I’ve always looked up to. So if there was a slight chance in hell of getting you back, you’re damn right that I’ll take that chance!”

With each word he spoke, your heart broke. “Dean… Look, I’m sorry-”

“Y/N, you don’t have to apologize,” Sam said sincerely.

“No, Sammy, Dean’s right,” you looked at him, gave him a slight nod, and continued, “...I can’t be the one to talk because I’d do the same thing.” Sam shuffled his feet and looked down, bits of hair falling in his face.

“And you would too. We are always going to be in a constant cycle of this… of saving each other and I can’t get mad at you guys for not burning my body.” You brothers nodded along in agreement, faces seemingly set in stone.

“This does not mean I’m not pissed because I am. And Cas better get his ass here and-”

“Hello, Y/N.”

And the whole argument happened again.

[vagrantblvrd]

Begin to Howl (1/1)

Summary: If Geoff thinks Ryan's going to be a stabilizing influence on his favorite group of lunatics, he's a goddamn fool.

Notes: This started out as a Battle Buddies AU and mutated on me. /o\

AO3

If Geoff thinks Ryan's going to be a stabilizing influence on his favorite group of lunatics, he's a goddamn fool.

“Hey, Ryan,” Geoff says, off-hand and super casual. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and studies the dossiers Geoff's thrown down in front of him. Jones, Free, and the newest Lost Boy to make it to the agency, Dooley.

“Look,” Ryan says, kicking back in his chair to look Geoff right in his beady little eyes. “I'm just telling you the truth.”

He's worked for Geoff going on years now. Handling a lot of the behind the scenes shit Jack doesn't have the time to deal with on top of his own duties, and Geoff just straight out lacks the patience or skills for.

Things no one likes doing but still needs to be done if they want things running smoothly. Or you know. Smooth-ish.

Ryan hasn't been in the field for a while now, but he keeps up with his certifications because he's not an idiot and they've all made enemies over the years. Have reasons why getting sloppy, becoming complacent with their lot in life is liable to get them killed messily sooner or later.

And now Geoff wants him to become team leader for three of his most unpredictable people who have a tendency to land the more problematic missions.

Whether it's because Control thinks they're the most qualified agents to tackle said missions or are taking bets as to how long their luck can hold out, even Ryan isn't sure.

Lunatics or not, they're some of the most adaptable bastards Ryan's seen walk through the agency's doors in a long time. Between Michael's solid performance and ability to keep a level head in the worst situations despite the occasional...flareup where his temper is concerned. Gavin's...unique way of looking at the world, and Jeremy's combination of skills and sheer determination they make a solid team.

Unfortunately, their special blend of skills and personalities have forged them into a unit most team leaders aren't prepared to handle. They've gone through several senior agents in the past year, ever since Geoff pulled himself from field duty citing personal issues after a mission went wrong and nearly got them all killed. Moved up into an administrative role in the agency that's killing him by inches.

Geoff loves those idiots, and he's not willing to send them into the kind of missions they're suited for unless he knows they have a team leader he can trust them with. Someone who won't try to stifle them, force them to operate by the book when they're hardly what you'd call model agents. Not the sort to stick to the plan when a better option makes itself available.

“Michael's mellowed with time,” Geoff says, ticking factors off his fingers he thinks will sway Ryan to his side. “Gavin's...well. Gavin's learned a new appreciation for not being a complete dumbass, and Jeremy - “

Ryan steeples his hands as he leans back in his chair. Smiles, big and wide and waits for Geoff to finish that sentence in a way that doesn't make Jeremy sound like the agency's up-and-coming head maniac.

Geoff sighs, dropping his hand and looking the very picture of a broken man leading a tiny army of the disturbingly unhinged.

“He fucking reminds me of you,” Geoff says, and they both know that's a bad thing. A very bad thing because Ryan had been a great agent, back in the day, if a bit...creative about the way he'd interpret orders. “Makes me wish I still drank.”

Ryan levels a look at Geoff, who makes a face in return. Eyes rolling as he drops into the chair across from Ryan.

“Fuck you, fine. I don't, but goddamn that kid. Being on a team with Gavin just makes things worse.”

And that -

Yeah, no.

Gavin's a bad influence on just about anyone he comes into contact with. Part of the reason he'd been partnered with Michael almost from the get-go.

Geoff had taken one look at that gawky, scrawny kid fresh off a plane from England and realized he was trouble. Thought pairing him with someone like Michael who showed the kind of basic common sense the agency lacked in spades would be a good idea.

Five years on and they're inseparable. Michael's snapping and snarling and yelling now tinged with overwhelming fondness and affection instead of raw anger. Gavin willingly letting Michael take the lead, all too often a quiet little shadow at his back with sharp eyes and such a clever, clever mind.

Goddamn instigator, and always Michael there to step in if (when) he gets in over his head, and now there's Jeremy. Good-natured and more than capable of keeping up with both of them, and Ryan knows for a fact he's the brains behind half the messes those idiots get themselves into lately.

And now Geoff wants him to take charge of these little bastards, lead them into hostile situations and get them back home again in one piece or as close to it as he can manage. Thinks Ryan could – not bring them to heel, God no - but at least fake it well enough the bureaucrats would be appeased.

Lord knows the agency isn't exactly known for their restraint, but they're valuable to the right people and so far those people have managed to stay in power. Protecting them from people who have no idea what it's like all the way down here where things get messy, ugly.

“Fuck you, no,” Ryan says with feeling. “I've done my time out there, same as you, Geoff. Like hell you're getting me out there with those idiots under my command.”

Ryan says the words with confidence, so, so certain, but Geoff.

Geoff gives him this tired little smile. The same one he'd given Ryan all those months ago when Ryan asked him if he was sure retiring from fieldwork was what he really wanted.

And Ryan -

“Give it a month,” Geoff says, and it's like some bizarre role-reversal going on here that sparks a bit of genuine anger deep down in Ryan because they're Geoff's team, not his. Not Ryan's in any way that matters, and Geoff knows it. “See what happens.”

========

The hell of it is, Ryan knows them, Geoff's idiots.

He was there when each of them came to the agency. Was still taking part in missions with his own team, going out there and doing a little bit of good in between all the wrong.

Coming back to HQ to debrief. Seeing the agency shrinks and bleeding out all the ugly things he'd seen and done on the floor of their pristine offices and feeling like he never got it all out. That there was always something that clung on, sinking its hooks into him and refusing to let go until he asked (all but begged) to be pulled from field duty.

Found himself a desk down in one of the sub-basements and set up shop, built himself a little kingdom down there that had feelers in every department of the agency. Fed him intel on every little thing that happened within its walls and gave it all over to Geoff and Jack because they were the only ones he's ever trusted with any of it.

Ryan was there when Jack and Geoff brought Michael in. This quiet, watchful kid putting up with no-one's bullshit, and it had made him a few enemies in the early days. Morons who didn't last long at the agency through their own idiocy and small-mindedness.

He took note of Gavin when he came in on Burnie's heels, wide-eyed and full of questions. Always poking and prodding and everywhere all the goddamn time. Making friends and enemies all in the same breath, and seemingly unaware of the effect he had on people.

Ryan never heard the full story concerning Jeremy. Just remembers seeing him almost literally stumble through the agency's doors pulled along by Gavin with Geoff strolling just ahead of them, this look on Geoff's face like he knew something no one else did about this quiet, surprisingly well-mannered kid.

And, oh, hadn't he shaken things up, Jeremy.

Looked like a quiet one, eyes sharp and inquisitive. Friendly enough smile on his face, and always ready with a joke or some terrible pun. Self-deprecating and something endearing in that humble-aw-shucks way he has to him, but it was as much of an act as Gavin's stupidity.

Hid the way that mind of his worked, slick and tricky as Gavin's – worse, sometimes – and the kind of skills and abilities to back all of that up. Solidness to him that Gavin lacked, feet planted firmly on the ground and eyes looking skyward, little smirk pulling at his lips.

Ryan knows them, has seen the shit they get up to when they're around HQ too long without a mission to burn that restless energy out of them. (May have, although there's no surviving proof, lent a hand a time or two over the years.)

He feels their focus snap to him the moment he walks into the briefing room set aside for their use.

Sees the way Michael's eyes narrow ever so slightly. The way Gavin looks up from his phone, head cocked, faint smile playing on his lips. Jeremy lifting his head, feet kicked up in front of him on the briefing room able, Aviators hiding his eyes from sight.

Like walking up to a pack of half-feral dogs, wary and suspicious and ready to tear into him the moment he makes a wrong move.

Geoff Ramsey's boys, his Lads.

Three of the most terrifying agents to work for the agency since its inception a decade and a half ago. Since fucking Geoff Ramsey and his original team, back in the day.

“What the hell did you do to Senior Agent Marshall?” Ryan asks, because he's met nothing but dead-ends every time he goes searching for answers.

And that's not something that should happen, given what happened to the bastard. (Every little bit deserved because Marshall had been the worst kind of agent, but that's not the kind of sentiment Ryan should have according to the agency's handbook.)

Marshall had been lazy and arrogant, giving the kinds of orders that would have gotten lesser agents killed and just smart enough to hide his incompetence from his superiors. The people who should have caught it before it went as far as it did.

Before it landed Michael and Jeremy in the infirmary with broken bones and holes in them the size and shape of bullets. Gavin the only one of them still standing (on a technicality) with Control scrambling to figure out what had gone wrong. Geoff and Jack both in DC for budgetary meetings, and Marshall trying to pin the blame on the Lads. Citing their past track records, tendency to go off-book, throw a little flair in there, their collective penchant for fiery explosions.

In retrospect, Marshall's luckier than he knows to have gotten off so lightly, considering.

Gavin's got a mean streak in him that doesn't surface all that often, but when someone threatens what's important to him? You'd better pray to whatever higher being you hold dear someone can rein him in. (Unfortunate for Marshall, then, that his incompetence had removed his two best bets of getting out of the situation unscathed. So very, very unfortunate.)

Michael settles back in his chair, slow smirk pulling at his mouth. Gavin's eyes brightening as he sets his phone down and sits up, and Jeremy barks out a laugh as he pulls the Aviators off, smirk on his face to mirror Michael's.

“I don't know what you're on about,” Michael says in that atrocious parody of a British accent he tends to adopt from time to time, taking the lead on this the way he always does.

Ryan locks eyes with him, and Michael just looks back. This sort of vicious satisfaction in his eyes, and Ryan finds he can't fault him for it. Not when Marshall had put his entire team at risk, and if it's one thing the Lads are, it's loyal.

To their team first, the agency second, everyone else never.

Ryan sighs, feels that strange tug of affection for these idiots he's always felt somewhere in the vicinity where his heart should be. (Rumors says he lost it years ago on a mission gone bad. Defective body armor, and the lucky shot that heralded the rise of the Mad King with his little kingdom down on sub-basement D because the agency's rumor mill is ever so creative.)

“Sure, okay,” Ryan says, and tosses down mission folders on the table by Jeremy's feet. Flips a little USB drive over to Gavin who plucks it neatly out of the air. “We've got a mission.”

Ryan pauses, looking at each of them in turn. Highly trained and skilled agents who have years of field experience under their belts.

“It would be nice,” he says, “if I knew you trusted me, but I'll settle for knowing you'll listen to me out there.”

He likes these idiots, doesn't want to be the one leading them to their deaths.

Michael cracks his neck, eyes sliding towards Gavin who looks down at the USB drive in his hands. Turning it over and over as he thinks. Jeremy drops his feet to the floor and sits up, shoulders squared, and Ryan?

He waits.

Waits, because Michael's the one to take the lead when someone comes in to challenge the order of things here. The way things work with this team since Geoff retired from fieldwork. To put himself out there, loud and brash and stubborn down to his core.

Gavin, though.

He handles things like this, brokers little deals. Arrangements and understandings.

This odd mix of harmlessness and a charming sort of enthusiasm to him that pulls people’s eyes away from Michael and Jeremy to focus on him. Have them making the mistake of thinking the Lads are anything but dangerous.

After a moment Gavin looks up at Ryan and smiles, small and crooked and real.

“I think if anyone's earned that much here aside from Geoff and Jack, Ryan, it's you,” he says.

Ryan looks at him. At Michael and Jeremy and it's -

Well, it's not quite like being kicked in the ribs because Ryan knows that feeling a little too well, but it's close enough. Realizes, seeing the way these idiots are willing to put what little trust they have to give over these days to him, Geoff knew exactly what he was doing when he went to Ryan.

========

Unsurprisingly, their first mission in the field as a team doesn't go exactly as planned.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan says, staring in awe at the flaming wreckage that used to be a nice little  mountain villa belonging to the head of a drug cartel.

”Mission accomplished,” Michael says flatly, Jeremy's delighted laughter in the background. ”We could use a pick-up.”

Ryan slides a look towards Gavin sitting in the pilot's seat of their borrowed helicopter and isn't all that surprised by the manic grin on his face.

“You heard him,” Ryan says, wondering how the hell he's supposed to explain this to Control.

This was supposed to be a nice little shakedown mission for them, figure out how to work as a team. Get to know one another's quirks and idiosyncrasies, and -

Technically – technically – it's working because Ryan is now well acquainted with the fact that sending Michael and Jeremy off on their own is a bad idea. Probably shouldn't have done it, but God knows what would have happened if he'd sent Gavin with Michael or Jeremy.

Gavin coos as something explodes on the east side of the villa belonging to the cartel leader. Michael and Jeremy were supposed to take out quietly while Ryan and Gavin dealt with the cargo planes at the little airstrip hidden up in the mountains.

It's pretty as all hell, so Ryan will give him that, but it's also just a wee bit noticeable.

There's already chatter on cartel's radio frequency they're tapped into, and it's going to be a challenge getting out of here in one piece.

And Ryan.

He tried, to get Geoff to see reason when he handed the Lads over to him expecting Ryan to be a stabilizing influence on them, he really did, because – well.

There's a significant part of Ryan that's duly impressed with Michael and Jeremy for wreaking more havoc than he and Gavin did, and they're in a gunship kitted out with a gatling gun firing explosive rounds.

Incredible, really.

========

“Congratulations,” Geoff says, kicking back in the chair across from Ryan. Smug as hell and radiating this exhausting sort of glee. “I heard the mission was a success.”

Ryan scowls at Geoff and wishes for a brief, fleeting moment he actually drank.

“Sometimes I really don’t like you.”

Geoff cackles that goddamn hyena laugh of his as he sets down a six-pack of Diet Coke on Ryan's desk.

“Shut the fuck up, you love me,” he says, making gimme gestures for Ryan's laptop and the report he's been working on for half the night. “Now let me show you how to bullshit Control when it comes to what those little bastards do in the field.”

Ryan looks at Geoff, thinks I'm never going to make it a month with these lunatics, and hands his laptop over because Geoff knows him too damn well. Knows Ryan's been waiting on a team like this.

“Fucking seriously, Geoff,” Ryan says, reaching for a can of Diet Coke, something settling in him at Geoff's crooked grin. “Sometimes I really don't like you.”

Continents

[lorainelaneyblog]

This is God, this is God, this is God, this is God, Loraine Laney is visiting, in Ottawa, with her parents, and this is what the staff at the Superstore thought about her expression.

‘Loraine, you look so put upon that you’d like to kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself, and that’s it, and that’s it, and that’s it. To answer your question, [ ], Loraine Laney, as we like to call her, as, even her, Loraine, is a fan, we are all, all, all, fans in here, she is so nice, all the time, once she even talked to a client who talks to no one, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, even the staff, because, and this is what came to light, Loraine, this is what came to light, Loraine, over, and this is what gives us motivation to live, Loraine, the little things, the little victories, when you illuminated him to the presence of the halogen “incandescent” bulb, he bought four. And he, not that day, but he was so, so, so, excited about the price that we, we, we, all of us, here, felt proud of the price, Loraine.’

‘Seventy four cents,’ says her [ ]. 

‘And he has been in lighting his entire life, and even he could not believe the price, Loraine.’

‘How did you come to talk to him?’ asks her [ ].

‘Excited,’ says God, ‘she was about the lighting. She knows a bit about lighting because of her [ ],’ he says. ‘He taught her that there were four types of lighting, and so, she knew right away that this lighting was unorthodox, an “incandescent bulb” with a halogen light inside. Seventy four cents,’ says God. ‘When this lighting emerged, people ignored it, but not Loraine, because, despite her rampant migraines, and, it is known that halogen lights cause migraines. she knows what she prefers in lighting and that is halogen and incandescent, not fluorescent and LCD. She knows about high pressure sodium too. The yellow light. She wanted to go for a nice dinner, but they ate fast food the entire time, well twice, they had eggs at the hotel and they had a bun at Tim Horton’s. She begged off,’ says God. ‘She hates to eat fast food because it makes her sick for hours, that one sandwich which was only a plain croissant plus some melted cheddar cheese, she wanted an egg but there is no all day breakfast at Tim Horton’s yet, even though it is a simple matter to make an egg, but they don’t have it, so she spent, which annoyed your [ ], Loraine, to no end, that it took ten full minutes and two staff to explain a melted cheese croissant to the cashier, who is new, who is always new, and knows nothing about anything Canadian. Nothing, Loraine. Nothing, Loraine. Nothing, Loraine. Nothing, Loraine. The grilled cheese sandwich is quintessentially Canadian, Loraine, and the items on the menu are not, not, not, fixed, they will help you choose something, as she was trying to do, and she is not, not, not, stupid, but she realized who you were and that you were, due to your parents, on the fucking edge, Loraine. Her [ ] actually forgot that she was even there. And that’s that. And that’s that. And that’s that. The staff at Sushi 168 would love, love, love, to see you again, Loraine. You were polite, you were sweet, and you paid handsomely for a lunch for one.’

‘That’s her problem. I eat wherever. Nothing fancy. And I don’t pay. And that’s it.’

‘Loraine didn’t vomit. Do you know how often your [ ] vomits, Loraine? Often, from the shit at Tim Horton’s, and he tells no one, and his wife is sworn to secrecy. Loraine does not eat poorly, as you are fond of saying. She eats better than you, and despite the fact that she has been sick, from poisons, intentionally administered by evils, she is healthier than you. Healthier. So, [ ], up for three months, upon his daughter’s arrival as a famed individual, because, Loraine, he did not want to get left behind by you, stick that in your pipe and smoke it. And as for [ ], this is what I have to say about [ ], Loraine, she is no seven, let me tell you, though she is fond of saying it, do you know that woman you criticized because you jumped on the critical bandwagon with them?’

‘Yes. I said her little toe fell out of her shoe with every step.’

‘She knew, she realized, that you saw her toe, and she was so embarrassed, she thought she would die, and, right at that moment, she made up her mind, never to wear those stupid shoes again, because they don’t fit, they don’t, they don’t, they don’t, so, despite that you were to criticize her breasts, and you were, Loraine, believe it or not, those beautiful things are real on her.’

‘Whoa.’

‘That’s right, Loraine, beautiful. And everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, thinks they’re fake, everyone, and they, they, they, including gossipy [ ], are wrong, are wrong, are wrong, and I didn’t give them to her, her mother did.’

‘What was so great about them?’ asks 50 Cent.’

‘A narrow chest.’

‘Large cup.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Was she old?’

‘Yes. Ish.’

‘How old? Because I bet she is still pulling with those tits, and that’s why she does her hair like that. Was it dumb?’

‘No, curly, coiffed.’

‘I know the type. Was she pretty?’

‘Yes, quite.’

‘That’s her. They never say die. And good for them. Good for them.’

‘Why are you not married?’ I ask.

‘I just fucked up, Loraine. I put my “career,” in, will you believe, fucking retail, before my love life.’

‘What retail?’

‘Women’s fashions.’

‘Were there many and what do you mean exactly?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What fucking career in retail?’

‘Oh, I see. I became a supervisor, and, would you believe, that seven people, men, asked me, asked me, asked me, even begged me, to leave that stupid, fucking, poor, bullshit income, job, begged, Loraine, begged, Loraine. And I, idiot that I was, thought that I should be self sufficient, and I want to ask you now, have you ever had such opportunities?’

‘Never.’

‘She hasn’t. The men in Vancouver chose the Chinese and that is what they did, and that is it. The end. Ask her no more. Please. This is Ontario. The men are higher.’

‘Higher how? They were poor too.’

‘Sexually,’ says 50 Cent. ‘And, furthermore, they probably realized that you were not going to make it in that business in any significant way.’

‘They did. They told me that all the time, that there was no future in retail, just sales, and that’s it.’

‘What did you think would happen?’ ask 50 Cent and Loraine Laney, at the same time.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

‘[ ] [ ] wants to say something. Buyers and window decorators.’

‘Designers, they’re called,’ says 50 Cent.

‘Fuck you, 50 Cent, fuck you, 50 Cent, fuck you, 50 Cent,’ she says.

‘Okay.’

‘Fuck you. We all, we all, we all, we all, we all, to a last idiot, thought we could overcome a lack of education. The window designers, as you call them now, were educated in the arts, yes, they were, yes, they were, and we were idiots, so. the. fuck. what? I have herpes because I thought I could screw my way to the top, because everyone was doing it. And that’s it.’

‘What do you mean everyone was doing it?’ We ask at the same time.

‘Screwing, Loraine, window designers, for jobs.’

‘Oh. Neat.’

‘Yeah. Cool.’

‘What do your video vixens do?’

‘I pick them out of a catalogue, and then they solicit me for prostitution for an extra ten thousand was the worst, Loraine and [ ] [ ], whoever you are. Who is she, Loraine, that’s quite a name.’

‘I’m a [ ], but it was cool to have a boy’s name in the seventies.’

‘I did not know that.’

‘Fuck you, 50 Cent.’

‘We worked together in the coin room. Her man was rich and lost money.’

‘In the recession, Loraine, I was no idiot, and I had millions, and gambled too much in business, hoping, Loraine, for more. Never, never, never, follow the rule, never gamble more than half. Never. We were poor for awhile, and she worked while I tried to live in a small condo and pull it together businesswise and the economy improved, and, as much as she hates the development which is due to the Chinese--’

‘It’s immigration money. The development is their business,’ says 50 Cent.

‘Fuck you, 50 Cent. He’s right, Loraine. He’s right, Loraine. He’s right, Loraine. The recession ended in 1986. They splashed out and sold Vancouver to Hong Kong in one summer, they had to escape the environmental hell that they, almost singlehandedly, had created.’

‘You knew what I was dealing with.’

‘You told us, [ ]. He had a million dollars left.’

‘That’s what it was. And we both had herpes, Loraine. And I don’t care about this blog, I don’t. I have been living in hell, in a quiet, private, hell, for years, Loraine, and everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, in the sex world, knows I have herpes. I was a horn dog, Loraine, a horn dog, Loraine. I did anyone.’

‘What is she, Lord?’

‘What do you think?’

‘She’s not a group woman?’

‘She is a group woman, Loraine, and contrary to their men, they are much, much, much, much, much, much, hornier.’

‘Some of them are very pretty?’ she asks.

‘Most, as far as I can see, and delicate, slim.’

‘I’m not delicate.’

‘You’re not not delicate.’

‘Really?’

‘Some are, some are, some are, some are, some are, very, very, very, I’m kidding, [ ], some are bigger, and some of the group men are both bigger, more handsome and taller, and Loraine can sometimes identify them, and many, many, many, have remained counterculture. And Loraine saw one, a cute red head--’

‘Big? Because I don’t like the small red heads,’ she says. ‘But the big ones smell good,’ she says.

‘She knows that Neil Smith, as he is called around here,’ says God, ‘and he is one of your husbands, Loraine, and he is from football, as you requested, and he is lovely, Loraine, and even [ ] would like him.’

‘I like them smaller.’

‘And yours are smaller.’

‘And how tall is she, Loraine? Can I sleep with her?’

‘I told you I have herpes.’

‘We’re circumventing that with a new condom, and I am not joking, because I am, I am, I am, impressed with your transformation, and that’s all, all, all, I wanted to convey.’

‘What new condom?’

‘A boy short.’

‘I wear hot pants. I love it. There are, I’m still pretty--’

‘How pretty is she?’ asks 50 Cent.

‘Very. She was already in her thirties.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘She would discuss her straight blond hair.’

‘I would.’

‘And her expression was such--’

‘That she looked like a dumb blond.’

‘Exactly. A seventies blond, a groupies type, but she wasn’t, she was a bar girl, and that’s it. She loved to meet men. And she would pick the fat girl and the uglier girl--’

‘Fuck you, Loraine.’

‘You did. And they would ask for her.’

‘Oh, I see. Okay. I don’t exactly know the type. I do, Loraine.’

‘You know the Jim Morrison movie?’

‘I do.’

‘Like that is what you picture.’

‘Wasn’t that Meg Ryan?’

‘Umm, no.’

‘Let’s look.’

‘She loved Jim Morrison, I remember that. She even read the book.’

‘That was during then?’

‘Yes, Loraine.’

‘Oh. I loved The Doors. I loved The fucking Doors.’ Looks it up. ‘You’re right, 50!’

‘Meg Ryan.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re also a fan.’

‘Yes, she died.’

‘Fuck you, Loraine.’

‘What happened to you?’

‘Men happened to me. You, Loraine,’ says Meg Ryan, ‘say you stopped going to the beach, Wreck Beach, ten years before your own, fucking, fucking, fucking, father, thought you did. Same, Loraine. Same, Loraine.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘I stopped dating, Loraine. I was too cute. They all, all, all, wanted to screw me, all. And I know you think I went sideways with that piercing, I know you did--’

‘It was a nose stud, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s what it was. And everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, thought I went sideways.’

‘Why did you say you’re moving downtown?’

‘Because downtown was where the conservative sexuals were.’

‘You said it pruriently.’

‘Fuck you, Loraine. I didn’t mean it pruriently. I meant it, oh fuck. I hated my life, Loraine, and downtown was space for me, away from the suburban, rich, screwing, fuck heads. The rich were the worst, Loraine, and if you, idiot, think you are going to get rich and meet nice men in restaurants, you have another, another, another, another, thing coming.’

‘She hasn’t read your book, Loraine, She knows this, Meg Ryan,’ says God.

‘Like now.’

‘Fuck you, Loraine,’ says God. ‘You are never, never, never, never, going to meet anyone like 50 Cent in a fucking restaurant, and Meg Ryan never has either. So let’s leave it at that. I’m done.’

[multimonk]

Project M.O.N.K, Audio logs of one DR.Vee(Super duper background for Monk story)

Under the cut due to length!

Day 1, Orientation. “So day one... What is there to say? The on-site doctor/therapist says I should keep these audio logs for my own wellbeing, while locked away in this compound... I see no harm I suppose, gives me a break from work.”

-Low sigh-

“The facilities are alright to start with, with more equipment promised if specimens and experiments on said specimens give promising results. Whoever is paying for this better understand all my ‘scientist mumbo jumbo’ on my reports, unlike the meatheads they replaced half my staff with. If their intention is to spy on my work to make sure I keep working hard, they are not being very subtle.”

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Day 10, Preparations. “We’ve finally set up everything we need. The chemicals are working as expected and the first few samples of what we’re working towards have started to grow. It’s not exactly what I’d call a fetus, but it’s a start... We have to make sure all the clashing DNA ‘sticks together’ as one of the morons put it.”

“Side note, order MUCH more coffee and painkillers in the next shipment.”

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Day 58, First failure. “Well, I didn’t expect the first few months to go as smoothly as they did without SOME setbacks. Half of the specimens died, and the remaining half... Well, they show promise, but their genetic structure is somewhat weaker. They want tough skin and some other, dare I say, impossible features... So, that wont do.”

The good doctor has been kind enough to listen to my worries so I wont stress myself out by repeating them here, but... He did tell me to talk about my children. It seems to give me some strength. I do miss little Jess and Nate... I hope they are eating right. Knowing mom, probably not.” -Chuckle-

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Day 72, Success? “I will avoid false optimism, but more and more samples are surviving. Some even formed a limb or two. We may have a real living creature within two years at this rate!”

“Putting that aside, some of the meatheads aren’t that bad now that they’ve forgotten about their mission to ‘guard me’. Aki, Henry and Neni are actually pretty nice people... Makes living in a damn cube in the middle of a jungle bearable at least.”

-Groaning-

“Why can’t secret bases ever be on a beach, or some other nice location?”

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Day 100, Party. “I refused, initially. Wasting time to celebrate with whiskey and swing music every 100 days, who does that in a scientific research facility? Bbuuuuuut I will admit, once I got to the swing of things(Pun not entirely intended), it was nice to let loose and just have some fun. I might have drunk a bit too much though...”

-Light snoring-

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Day 198, SUCCESS! “REAL success! We have our first real babies! Granted half of them have died and that’s taken a toll on many of the people in my team. I TOLD them not to name the blasted monsters. Getting attached to something that only wears a human face is not a good idea and if I might add, highly unprofessional.”

-Loud sigh-

“Alright... I don’t really record these as often as I did in the beginning, but looks like I’ll have even less time soon. If we can get even one live... Thing, we can start testing to see if they can be trained, imprinted or... Well, this is HIGHLY optimistic, but I like to think we could teach them during the 5 years it ‘should’ take for them to mature.”

“Optimism. Baad baaaad optimism.”

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Day 200 “HUNGOVER. That is all.”

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Day 300, Sparta “That joke has been made to death by someone who saw a stupid, unrealistic movie once. If I get one more email with that video...” “I am not allowed to talk about too much detail in the audio logs, but I will say this to keep it in mind. The specimens with more unsteady structure seem to survive better than those with the big, bulky ones our employer wants. I-”

-You got mail-

-Loud blaring of a remix of “This is Sparta”-

“Kill. Me.”

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Day 487, Finally! “My intuition was right! We managed to make a few specimens survive outside their containment tanks with alterations to... Well, anyway. The staff insisted on naming them Don and Monk. Take a damn guess which one that dumbass Rico named? Monk, right. Well, at least the thing will remember which project gave it life... If it lives past a week.”

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Day 496, no title ideas “Don and Monk have taken their first steps. Don walks on two quite fine, but Monk has some form of deformation in its… His, knees and back, I need to look into it.”

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Day 500, No party “Don died. Funnily enough, not because of any error on our part... While physically more capable, Don was unfortunately as dumb as a toddler and making no progress, so he tried to eat a knife, despite the bleeding and pain... I assume, can they feel pain?”

-Door opens suddenly-

-Male voice- “DR.Vee, come quick! The other one is sick or something!” “WHAT??”

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Day 520, Worst is over. “Monk is still alive. Weird enough, he’s not so much deformed as he is... Strange in structure. He’s missing some ribs, but he has so many more vertebra in his neck and back than a human. ALL functional! I still can’t fathom how he lives, but... He has no trouble moving on all fours, he eats... BOY does he eat!”

“Called Jessica and Nathan today, introduced them to my team. They’re already in junior high... I missed them graduating elementary. Mother of the year award goes to... Someone else.”

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Day 523 “Monk got his horns stuck in a wall and continued to whine loudly about it for ten minutes. We took pictures and video, for... Science.”

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Day 565, Baby steps “I’ve put away all the training they wanted me to teach him. I need to treat him like the child he is until we can figure out how to imprint information and training directly onto the brains of the specimens. Speaking of, we have been unable to make new ones that live past the month. We keep them separate from Monk of course. He still keeps looking for Don... It’s sad to watch.”

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Day 600 “Monk joined the party today! Well, the start of the party. We gave him some cake and let him curl up to watch us drink and be merry. He’s still too small to actually take part in anything more active than eating and wobbling around, but maybe one day.”

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Day 1000, sorry. “God, it’s been.. Jeesh. So long since I’ve made the last one huh? Okay, so, summary. Monk is doing well. He is reaching what I would call the age of 9 or so. These things grow fast, but I have no idea how long he will actually live. Will he stop aging at the point we hoped? We’ll see.”

“Anyway.”

“I’ve been teaching him to speak and well... Unsurprisingly, ‘food’ ‘treat’, his own name and ‘hello’ in various different forms have stuck the most. I also gave him some crayons to practice his motor skills a bit... Thank god our purpose is not to create the ultimate artist, unless someone really likes stick figures.”

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Day 1050, more progress “Another growth spurt, he’s maybe 15 ish now? He’s in a bit of pain from growing so fast, but we give him painkillers to he can sleep at least. He’s started to call me ‘mum’. It’s not what you think! I tried to get him to address me as ‘ma’am’, but apparently that is too hard for him to say.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

“... Wonder how Jess and Nate are doing.”

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Day 1068-1090, Annoying “CONSTANT threats for more progress or less funds, really. I know we’ve made great strides in the past two-three years, I mean, we DID create LIFE in the first year! But now the big hats upstairs have gotten used to the fast pace and want more, the greedy MOTHERFU-Mmhhh... Okay.”

-Deep breath in-

-Loud sigh-

“Monk has a good personality, very obedient when he likes you, but he has entered a rebellious phase... Teenagers right?”

“Not like I’d know, I didn’t get to see my kids turn from kids to pre-teens.”

“What employer doesn’t give vacation days?? Regardless, the sooner we duplicate the success with Monk, the better. Though...” “Well, this is just a thought, but what if instead of an army, we just create an entirely new species? Creator of an entire species of people, wouldn’t that be the same as being a god?”

“Or a really, REALLY productive mother.”

“...”

“Okay ew, horrible mental image.”

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Day 1329, Troublesome thoughts “I can’t keep the thought out of my head. What if I just recreate Monk EXACTLY and just change the gender, and then repeat the process a few thousand times? I could... Hm.”

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Last log, partially corrupted -Hasty footsteps and sounds of many doors being opened on the way-

“MONK!”

“Shhh darling, I know that’s your name, and I know you like telling me, but you have to be quiet now okay?”

-Whispered- “Monk.”

“Haa haa, clever.”

-Happy squeaking-

“I’ve decided to take Monk and just... Go. There’s no future for him here. They called, said my funding is officially over and they will ‘get rid’ of all evidence. That’s a fine word for killing all my specimens and Monk...! Those bastards will not touch him. I’m taking him, starting my own lab and continuing my work elsewhere! I’ll show them, I can do this. I can start an entirely new species, I can-”

-Sounds of gunfire and explosions-

“OH SHI-” -Explosion-

“Dr.Vee? That wouldn’t be my investment you’re running off with would it? “You’re...? Never mind, I don’t care. If I stop here, all my work will be for nothing! Just let me continue my work, or get out of my way!”

“I am afraid we can’t do that Dr.Vee. You see... When I said I am getting rid of all the evidence, I did of course mean you as well.”

“You-” -Shocked gasp, sound of gun being loaded-

“However, I would like that thing back. As a live specimen, it is VERY valuable for continued perfection of your work, without your failures... Namely yourself and your sentimentality.”

“Over my dead body you asshole!” “... Aight sure, why not?” -Sudden explosion, sounds of wildlife outside and the sound of scuttling bare feet on the floor-

“Monk no! You don’t know what’s out there, you won’t survive without me! MONK! MONK LISTEN TO ME, COME BACK, MO-”

-End of recording-