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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

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1x20: Dead Man's Blood

Guys! We really wanted to save this VERY SPECIAL episode until the end, but it’s just SO special we couldn’t wait. It’s the episode that all mythology of the show balances on --John being a deadbeat on his own hunts, JENNY!!, and vampires (aka, the one thing Dean can’t kill and also something this family has never run into before so, you know, John could HAVE never described masked ones in his journal)

Fun fact: Jenny isn’t actually named in this episode (because woman don’t matter enough to name, silly!) Giving this character a name is the slowest burn storyline this entire show had!

Then:

John Winchester: Father of the Decade

Now:

Manning, Colorado

Mr. Elkins sits at a bar, pouring over his hunter journal. Some rowdy newcomers appear.

Mr. Elkins takes off for home --a run down cabin in the woods. One of the bar newcomers is waiting for him. Her eyes flash and he throws a knife into her torso. She pulls it out without issue and chases him. He runs to his safe and pulls out the Colt (do we know about the Colt yet? Whatever, spoiler!) but it’s too late, he’s attacked by a couple of other dudes that fly in from the ceiling. Dinner time for the monsters!

At a diner, Dean suggests they head east to find Sarah Blake again.

Sam dismisses such foolishness (because the idea of Sam ending up happy with a woman that we know and like is pure nonsense!!) and mentions the death of Daniel Elkins. Dean remembers that name from John’s journal. ‘

The brothers head to Colorado and check out Elkins’ home. Dean finds Elkins’ journal.

They also find the place torn apart --and weird scratches on the floor. Dean takes a rubbing and realizes that it’s a message for a post box. They head there next and find a note for ‘JW’ in the box.

Before they can open the letter, good ol’ John Winchester appears. He tells them that he saw them at Daniel’s place. Sam asks why he didn’t come in. “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed.” LISTEN, asshole, these two brothers are doing JUST FINE without you.

John tells the boys that he knew Daniel, but they had a falling out (Jesus, who didn’t you fight with back in the day, John?) John reads Daniel’s letter to him.

John asks if they saw a gun at Elkins’ place. Nope. John rushes out insistent on catching the things that killed Elkins. Sam and Dean ask what they are.

Vampires!

Sam and Dean are shocked that they’re real. John goes over the lore for this show.

We watch the vamps hunt for dinner. A couple is stopped by a body in the road, and while the dude goes to check it out, the woman calls 911. The dude doesn’t last long (and the lady probably doesn’t either.)

John hears the news on the police scanner. Without explanation, he tells his sons to follow him to find the vamps. John confirms that they’re on the right trail for the vampires but Sam wants proof.

He found a fang. They head out --but not before John gets a dig into Dean about how he takes care of his car.

While driving, Sam and Dean break down their mutual feelings about having John back. Dean’s the little soldier and Sam is not. (And Sam is driving, like Dean can’t even be in control and drive the car he loves so much because he can’t truly handle his father’s overbearing abuse?)

At an abandoned barn, the vamps party it up while the couple stay tied up and freaking out about their fate. Then the Keifer Sutherland of the group arrives, giving them permission to feed on the dude.

Kate tells Luther about Daniel Elkins, and he gets upset. More people will track them now. He then sees the Colt. “This is no ordinary gun.”

On the road, Dean tells Sam to pull over because John said so. Sam gets pissy and has a little drag race with pops. And that’s the last time Sam ever drove the Impala. Sam gets in John’s grill about the gun and what they’re doing.

Dean tries to play peacemaker, but it is REALLY TOUGH with these two. John accuses Sam of leaving. Sam accuses John of shutting him out. Dean just wants a HAPPY FAMILY.

Kate and Luther attack the lone surviving victim, Jenny, feeding her Kate’s blood. Somebody wrote on Tumblr recently about this scene and I had blocked it out. Pretty sure I’ve only seen this episode a few times and BELIEVE IT OR NOT Jenny’s fate just did not stick with me. I’d forgotten how highly sexualized they’d made this vampire scene, and then gone further and draped it in assault. Jenny “dies” terrified, victim of one of the few same-sex kisses (on screen) in this entire damn show. Excuse me while I stomp around for a while rending my hair and hurling curses!

Later outside the vampires’ lair, the Winchesters surveil the place. Vamps CAN walk in the sunshine and they do NOT sparkle. John reveals his intricate plan: just...walk into the barn while they’re asleep.

For Still Beautiful, Still Dean Winchester Science:

John fills them in FINALLY on the Colt. Samuel Colt made a gun on the same night as the Battle of the Alamo. Sorry. Just. This is such a random story detail that has literally nothing to do with the Colt? Anyway, Colt made the gun for a hunter and gave him thirteen bullets. The hunter disappeared with only half the bullets used up because the FIRST RULE of the elder wand - I mean, the Colt - is never to brag about the Colt, probably.

The kicker is that the Colt can purportedly kill anything! Like bigfoot! Or God! Or the legendary, rumored-to-be-extinct vampire! (Or, sure, the demon that killed Mary Winchester.) John is hinging their demon-killing success on getting the Colt. The potential vampire killing is just blood-red icing on the cake.

In the barn, John creeps up slowly on the sleeping Kate and Luther, eyes set on the Colt dangling on their bedpost. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean stop their search for the Colt when they realize that there are people trapped for food in the barn. (Good beans!) They work to set them free when Jenny wakes up. She immediately lets out an inhuman roar as soon as she sees Sam.

Luther wakes up and chucks John across the room. He shouts for them to split, and the Winchesters flee. “Once a vampire gets your scent, it’s for life,” John explains. [insert Benny/Dean joke here]

While Dean’s raiding a funeral home, John “bonds” with Sam in the motel. He reveals that he put $100 in a college fund for Sam and Dean when they were born. He did that up until Mary died, and then he shifted his focus to raising his boys to be soldiers. (So literally just $100 for Sam’s account, then.) “Somewhere along the line I stopped being your father.” NO SHIT, JOHN.

Sam tells John that he used to think they were different, but after Jess died he’s wholly in the fight. They bond over their twin quests for revenge and when John reveals that he spent his boys’ college funds on ammunition, Sam laughs. What a Hallmark moment! Dean returns with dead man’s blood, and they get to work.

That night, Dean gets dangled out as bait: the dude-in-distress bending over a “broken-down” Impala. I just. Can’t even. With this show.

Kate finds him and they trade witty banter. She also kisses him which…. Excuse me, I’m going to stare into the middle distance for a while, grinding my teeth.

Arrows thwack into the vampires’ chests just in time, I guess? The dead-man’s-blood soaked arrows start to leach into their system, slowing them down. The Winchesters capture Kate, and kill the second vampire.

Sam confronts John about his plan to get the Colt and then scuttle away from his sons again. “You can’t treat us like this. Like children.”

“That’s crap,” Dean calls out John. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can’t be that worried about keeping us safe.” John’s got to do the hunt ALONE! It’s the only way!

Back with the vamp family, Luther learns about the hunters who’ve captured Kate (and severed their first head).

Luther zeroes in on John’s truck, tearing down the highway. He can tell that Kate’s inside it. And sure enough, Kate starts to wake up next to John. The vamp squad pursues the truck.

At the barn, Sam and Dean break in to confront the lone, possibly drunk vampire. It’s time to go antiquing! ALSO Dean Winchester breaks out the blood prisoners. “I told you I’d come back!” Readers, I love him.

With the vamps, John demands a trade: the Colt for Kate. He almost gets the Colt, but Kate overpowers him, knocking him out. It looks like the end for John Winchester EXCEPT an arrow thwacks into a vampire out of nowhere. Cue triumphant music, for it’s Sam and Dean Winchester to the rescue! Sam gets captured in the fight, and John blows one of the Colt’s precious bullets right into Luther’s forehead. The vampire dies in slow motion dramatic glorious fashion.

Jenny takes off to - APPARENTLY - live on in infamy on the back end of the show. John tells his kids that they are, in fact, stronger as a family. It’s time to hunt the demon together! Aw, bonding time!

Buffy the Vampquote Slayer:

Vampires? I thought there was no such thing

Revenge isn't worth much if you end up dead

We’re stronger as a family

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #JENNY #spn 1x20 #dean man's blood #supernatural season 1

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sodalitefully · 4 years

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Enter freely and of your own will [GNR, Sluff AU]

I know, I know, I've written vampire AUs before… Several times. But I had to write something about what a nerd Slash is for vampire fiction! Mostly inspired by interviews Slash gave after gnr covered Sympathy For The Devil for Interview With A Vampire (so any digs at the movie adaptation are based on Slash’s opinion, not mine – I’ve never seen it!). Occasional mentions of blood and stuff, but not particularly graphic. This fic is expanding on an AU I originally drew here.

~~~~

In my mind, it all played out like the plot of a paranormal romance novel. I’ve gotten familiar with those lately, thanks to the collection hidden in the bottom shelves of Slash’s library, buried below the gothic horror classics, the crime thrillers, and about a mountain of nonfiction. Hell, I could probably write my own! “Tall blonde unexpectedly falls for rock and roll bad boy with a dark secret,” yeah, the readers would eat that up. Of course, our love story didn’t really start when the unsuspecting protagonist moved to a new city, or when the leather-clad love interest showed off his supernatural shredding skills. No, I’d say it started a couple years later, when I found out Slash’s other deep, dark, embarrassing secret.

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night… but it was a movie night at my place, a tradition for Slash and I. Whenever we needed a break from the so-called rockstar lifestyle, we’d get together for a night in, smoke some pot and put on a movie. Slash laid back on my couch while I dug through a cabinet packed with VHS tapes and listed off a few options:

“Let’s see, we have Jurassic Park, Alien, Interview With a Vampire – Uh, sorry, I guess that would be weird huh?” Slash made a sour face.

“Ugh. I hate that movie, it’s such a bad adaptation. Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, seriously?”

“Wait,” I dropped The Empire Strikes Back and Blazing Saddles onto the growing heap of tapes and sat back on my heels to look at Slash in surprise. "You’ve seen it before?”

“Uh…” Vampires may not be able to blush but I'd known Slash long enough to tell when he’s flustered.

“And you’ve read the book?”

“… Yes?” I laughed, Slash ducked and hid his face, obviously feeling self-conscious, but I didn’t mean to laugh at him. It was just…

I’d assumed that a real-life vampire would roll their eyes at the cliche, over-romanticized movie interpretations of their kind. Instead, I learned of Slash’s (nearly) indiscriminate love for all things vampire, anything from Carmilla to Buffy The Vampire Slayer. He was a sucker (hah, get it?) for dripping fangs, swishing capes, even those crazy accents, ever since he was a kid. And I can’t lie, it was pretty endearing. I wasn’t in love with him yet, but the more he told me about his obsession, the more warm and tingly I felt, charmed by how genuine he was – Hell, I barely even teased him about it! Somehow, that conversation felt even more personal than finding out he was a damn vampire. I was really touched that he felt comfortable sharing his interests with me, that he trusted me with his softer, nerdier, more romantic side.

I resisted the temptation to press for more details that night, but a month or so later, I caught him in the act! I remember waking up in the afternoon after crashing at his place so late it was early the night before. I wandered around his big, spooky house until I found Slash curled up in one of his fancy antique armchairs, his legs dangling over the armrest and a paperback book cradled in his lap. I couldn’t make out the curlicued script on the cover, but from the captivated look on his face it was a favorite – his eyes were bright as they darted across the page, and his lips curled into a warm, gentle smile.

I couldn’t stand to disturb him, so I snuck off before he noticed me in the doorway, and headed down the hall to the room he’d transformed into a tiny library – The man had a library in his house; between that and the subtly gothic decor it was hard to believe I never noticed that Slash was playing up the vampire aesthetic, consciously or not! Anyway, I poked around until I found where he hid his collection of vampire lit, and snatched a few that were, shall we say, not quite as acclaimed as Dracula or even The Vampire Chronicles. I don’t remember the titles, but there were a couple paperback romances and a horror novel with a badass-looking dude on the cover.

I had to see what all the fuss was about, you know? Yeah, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly up my alley, but Slash usually had good taste, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Plus, if it was important to Slash, I wanted to know about it! And not just the well-known classics either; I wanted the guilty pleasures, I wanted to see what it was that could make Slash smile like that when no one was watching.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t bad. I wasn’t a big reader at the time, but I raced through the horror novel in just two days, and trust me, I barely slept the night in between! The trashy romance was more enjoyable than I would ever admit; even with all the cliches and melodrama there was something compelling about unraveling the tangled web of forbidden love in a world full of the supernatural.

At this point, I was very cautiously beginning to entertain the idea that I might see Slash as more than just a buddy and a bandmate. As friends, were were closer than ever, hardly spent a day apart, and I was beginning to notice things that I hadn’t noticed before. Things like the way he always smiled at my lame jokes, the way he leaned on my shoulder when he was pretending to be drunk, the way he tossed his hair on stage… And I couldn’t help wondering whether Slash identified more with the heroine or the love interest. Did he want to be the cool, mysterious vampire lover, or the unsuspecting protagonist who gets drawn into an alluring new world?

I got my answer a couple months later, in town again after a leg on the road. It was a steaming hot summer day back in L.A., and Slash was dozing on his couch. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, Slash’s sleep schedule had been fucked for as long as I'd known him. No, what made this instance significant was that I was also on the couch, reclined with my feet over the armrest and Slash draped across my chest. Tales From The Crypt played at a murmur on a brand-new TV set, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

See, at this point I’d recently learned that, when Slash focused hard enough, he could hear a living person’s blood pulsing in their veins and detect changes in body temperature. And that had me wondering: Could he tell that my heart beat faster when he leaned against me on stage? Could he tell that my ears got warm every time he turned a smile my way?

Could he tell how much I was affected by his weight on top of me?

He was like a huge cat in my lap, relaxed from head to toe. If you paid attention, you could tell that he was breathing more slowly that an ordinary human should be and his bare skin was slightly cool. Other than that he looked completely normal… Except for his teeth. His mouth was slightly open, allowing his pointed, knife-sharp teeth to scrape against his lower lip.

To Slash’s chagrin, they weren't gleaming white, perfectly straight fangs; instead they more closely resembled a shark’s jaw, crowded with small flesh-tearing blades. It was rare to see them exposed, Slash was careful to limit himself to tight-lipped smiles and mumbled dialogue whenever his secret was at risk. Even in private he was self-conscious about it, and I considered myself lucky when he grinned openly in my presence.

“Hey, Slash?”

“…Hmm?” Languidly, he shifted until he was looking up at me. Midafternoon sun leaked through the blinds brightly enough for me to make out a hint of red in his eyes, the other (un)dead giveaway that was usually obscured by his sedately lidded gaze.

"You know how you said the other day that you have really strong senses? Well... I was wondering what other, uh, non-human traits you have. How true are the myths about vampires, really?”

“Well… Hm. My eyes are pretty sensitive to daylight. And technically I’m nocturnal. But I don’t have fangs, I don’t really look like a vampire and I don’t have superpowers.” I swear to god, he pouted a little. "All things considered I didn’t really get any of the cool stuff."

“No super-strength? Or mind reading? Can you shapeshift into a bat?”

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if I could turn into a bat? At least I don’t have any of those stupid weaknesses, I can be in the sun and eat garlic and whatever.” He paused ponderously. “…You know, I might be immortal, I was around a long time before Tony and Ola took me in. Guess I’ll find out in a few decades.”

“That would be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, maybe."

“So... do you enthrall your victims?” I prodded, in a spooky, menacing voice belied by my goofy grin.

Slash snorted a laugh and shook his head at my antics. “No, I can’t do that either. Well, I don’t know, do you feel enthralled?”

I laughed awkwardly and counted my blessings when Slash didn't notice that my unspoken answer was an empathetic Yes.

Slash chuckled with me, then sighed. “Fuck, I wish vampires like that were real, though…” he confessed softly.

“Like what?”

“You know, badass, seductive, awesome powers…” He waved a hand toward a pinup poster on the wall with a corset and fangs, then let his head fall back to my chest. He mumbled into my shirt, “Is it really so much to ask for a sexy vampire to come and sweep me off my feet?”

“Slash, I hate to tell you this, but…” I couldn’t make it through the sentence with a straight face.

He swatted my bicep – pretty hard too, was he sure he didn’t have super-strength? “Fuck you, Duff, you know what I mean."

And, yeah, dreaming of being wooed by a beautiful, badass, intelligent and darkly mysterious vampire? Who appeared in my life and changed it forever, who blew me away with his capability and his passion? Who could captivate me with just a look?

Yeah. Believe me, I could relate.

~~~~

Happy Halloween!

#don’t think too hard about the timeline in this au #my sincerest apologies to any of you who is sick to death of my vampire aus #hell I’M not even that into vampires #I’m just into slash being into vampires…#slash #saul hudson #duff mckagan #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #halloween #gnr fanfic #guns n roses fanfic #sodafics

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penguin-writes-books · 4 years

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our own little corner of the world

you got it buddy (it’s a secret relationship fic babey)

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

@tea-j-kippen

Heavy bass thrummed through Cece’s house, running through Cyrus’s veins as he nursed a cup of some nondescript (probably off-brand) brown soda. His legs dangled off the countertop he was sitting on.

In the living room, TJ was weaving through clusters of people, doing his best not to shove people or step on their feet as he sidestepped past them. He locked eyes with Cyrus through the archway to the kitchen, grinning even as he tripped on the way out of the crowd. The cup of fake Sprite (Sprint, as it were) in his hand sloshed slightly, spilling over the edge of the plastic cup and onto the carpet.

He stepped over the Sprint stain and onto the tile in the kitchen. He was automatically in front of Cyrus. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Cyrus said, looking past TJ and dodging a kiss from him. “Not here, dummy.”

TJ seemed to take this as something of a challenge, taking Cyrus’s hand in his and tugging him off the counter. Cyrus squealed, dropping his soda in the sink as he was hauled over his boyfriend’s shoulder and carried out of the kitchen.

“TJ!” he hissed. “This is the polar opposite of inconspicuous.” TJ brushed past the ‘DON’T YOU DARE GO UPSTAIRS’ sign, assuming Andi wouldn’t mind him exploring a house he knew like the back of his own hand.

“Nah. Just two guys bein’ dudes,” he rebutted, pulling Cyrus off his shoulder as he reached the top of the stairwell. Cyrus was tugged down a dark hallway and crowded into a corner.

TJ ducked down into a kiss, letting his boyfriend’s hands tangle their way into his hair. “Have you ever considered-”

“-Not right now, Teej. We can talk about your conspiracy theories later, babe.”

“No, no.” TJ pulled back from him, smiling like a cartoon character. “That’s not - I meant us, Cy. Have you ever considered telling people?”

“Yeah, of course. If I hadn’t considered it, I probably would have told people without thinking about it.”

“Yes, but what do you think about it?”

“I think Andi would be thrilled, Jonah wouldn’t get it, Buffy would give you the shovel talk with an actual, literal shovel, and Marty would clap you on the back and ruffle my hair like some kind of weird older brother.”

“I’m failing to see the bad in this scenario.”

“The bad is that then it stops being our thing, Teej. We don’t get to keep it to ourselves anymore. It’s the whole world’s business, then. Not just ours,” Cyrus responded.

“Well, then,” TJ murmured, catching Cyrus in another kiss. “I guess you and me get to stay in our own little corner of the world for a little longer.

#Andi Mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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romanticheartbreakprince · 5 years

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@theobligatedklutz suggested a short prompt to me where TJ pushes Cyrus into a pool at a pool party because "he is a little shit"

So, from my hotel room in Vegas, here is that short story for you guys. Hope you enjoy!

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TJ watched as the sun began to fall in the afternoon sky as he stood on the Goodmans porch. The sweet scent of their potted orchids filled his lungs and for a second he was in an overwhelming state of ease. Every time he came over he was tempted to just grab one of them and run, but he knew that Cyrus' mother cared for those more than she did her own son. So he figured he wouldn't take the chance risking his own life and just came over more often to compromise.

He heard the front door creak open as the light footsteps of his boyfriend sounded from behind him.

"Mom, I'm leaving now!" Cyrus shouted into his house, as he closed the door behind him.

TJ spun around, looking right into his mocha brown eyes and glowing smile. "Hey! You ready?"

"You know it! I've been waiting all summer for this!"

"Cool." He smiled. "Let's go."

He grabbed Cyrus' hand and intertwined their fingers as they headed down the porch and made their way over to TJ's.

Every summer TJ holds a pool party for all of his closest friends as a final hoorah to summer, before they have to return and add one more year onto the total of years they lost to education. Or that's how TJ words it, anyways.

Tonight was no different, except for the fact that this was the first year that the two of them were a couple instead of just friends so for some reason TJ was a little more nervous. He just wanted to make sure that everything was as perfect as can be for Cyrus, so despite the fact that he was just a few houses down he still went out of his way to walk with him.

"You know you really didnt have to come get me, right? I can handle walking there by myself." Cyrus laughed, bumping into TJ.

"I know" he smiled. "I just like spending as much time with you as I can." He turned his head to look at Cyrus. "Plus, you never know when a bear could charge in here and attack!"

"I really dont think there are bears around here. But I appreciate your concern"

"Hey, you can never be too careful" he winked.

"Whatever, Thelonious." He snorts.

TJ hurriedly checked their surroundings "Cyrus, I told you that name could never see the light of day and -" he used his free hand to gesture to their obvious surroundings. "I still see plenty of light."

"Well I for one find your name adorable, and also know for a fact that nobody is around, so relax, okay?" He felt Cyrus squeeze his hand tightly, helping to ease some of his stress.

"Okay, okay." He breathed "I'm sorry."

"Its alright, okay Teej? You're safe with me, I promise."

He looked down to see Cyrus giving him one of the most genuine, and gentle smiles he had ever seen from the boy, and at that moment any remaining doubts he had vanished. God he really loved his boy and how amazing he was. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky.

TJ finally dropped Cyrus' hand as they approached the gate into his back yard. He opened it, allowing Cyrus to enter first, and closely followed behind him as the gate swung shut with a loud clang.

The rest of their friends had already arrived before TJ had left to get Cyrus so now the gang was all here.

He made his way back over to his chair next to Marty as Cyrus ran off to join Buffy and Andi.

He sat down with a sigh, kicking his feet up to make sure he could relax as best as possible. That was until Marty cleared his throat as obnoxiously as possible.

"Can I help you?" He turned to glare at him.

"I'll give you $5 to push Cyrus in the pool."

"What?"

"Okay, okay. What about $10?"

"Dude, I'll do it for free."

"Alright fine $15- wait seriously?"

"Sure, why not?"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, I'm being serious."

He watched as Marty eyed him suspiciously. "I dont know what your game is here Kippen, but I'm all for it."

"No game." He laughed "It's just nice to have a little fun with him every now and again."

"So you're really telling me you're just going to push your boyfriend into a pool because I asked you to?"

"Yep." He said, popping the 'p' sound at the end.

"That's crazy man...." Marty shook his head. "Go for it"

"Alright, fine" he frowned, getting up from his seat.

He walked over towards where Cyrus and the girls were sitting. He noticed they were in a deep conversation. Cyrus and Andi seemed to be laughing at something Buffy had said.

He turned back to look at Marty who was giving him a thumbs up, and then turned back, calling Cyrus over.

He stood there, with part of his foot hanging over the edge watching as Cyrus excused himself from his conversation and ran over.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked, smile on his face.

"Nothin'." TJ lied "I just wanted to see your pretty face" he grabbed onto Cyrus' hands and gently swung them back and forth.

"Well, here it is." He laughed. "Was that really all you wanted me over here for?

"I mean... I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a little swim?" He smiled hopefully.

"Yeah, sure that sounds fun."

"Cool! Where's your phone by the way?"

"Oh it's over by Buffy do you want me to-"

"Good." He interrupted. He removed his hands from Cyrus' as he reached up and placed both hands on his right shoulder. With all his might he pushed him sideways into the pool, clothes and all.

Ahead of him, he heard the horrific screams from the girls as Cyrus hit the water.

Behind him was the ravenous cackling of Marty.

"Cyrus!" Buffy yelled. "TJ, what the hell was that?!"

"Relax." He replied as he shifted his body weight towards his foot that was dangling off the edge. He kept going until he couldn't balance himself any longer and plummeted into the water right behind Cyrus.

He floated to the top to find Cyrus coughing out the water as he tried to regain his balance and breath.

TJ waded his way over until he was right in front of Cyrus. Using his thumbs, he whiped the water from Cyrus' eyes so he could see again and was instantly met with a glare.

"You know, when I said I wanted to swim I kind of meant in my swimsuit." He snapped.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, using his finger to carefully move the hair out of Cyrus' face. "I just wanted to have a little fun. Plus you're cute when you're mad."

"This is not funny, TJ! My clothes are soaked! I can't believe you right now."

TJ went behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rested his head on his wet shoulder.

"Thelonious is sorry." He said.

"TJ." He whispered. "I'm pretty sure they can hear you."

"Thelonious Jagger Kippen is sorry!" He yelled out. "I don't care if they know anymore. As long as you forgive me."

"I- I mean I wasn't *that* mad. You didnt have to tell them your name. Plus I'm still a little irritated but I guess... that was very sweet of you. In a weird way."

"Cyrus, if you pushed me into a pool I'd be pretty irritated. I just didnt want you to be mad at me for the rest of the night."

"Alright, I get it. Just- can you wait till I'm actually in my swimsuit next time?"

"Yeah." He laughed. "I promise"

"Good. Now can we get out of the pool?"

"I suppose that would be a good idea."

They climbed out of the pool and carried on with their night. And while Cyrus still had a little bit of a grudge against TJ, it didnt stop him from getting payback by pushing him into the pool later that night as they were cleaning up.

#andi mack #tyrus #tyrus fanfic

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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (7)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.5k (this chapter), 23.2k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

“Why don't we just use the door?” Dan hisses, arms wrapped around themself to make up for their thin denim jacket. “It's unlocked.”

“This is the way Mar and I always did it,” Phil hums, watching Sophie move the loose boards away from the window. She's perched on PJ's shoulders like a little bird.

“It's more fun,” Chris offers.

“Plus, entering houses by the door is the quickest way to alert ghouls and neighbours to your arrival,” says PJ.

“I think Martyn just liked showing off. Don't think it was that deep.”

“Done,” says Sophie, patting the top of PJ's head. “You can put me down now.”

With much more care and grace than Phil knows he would have been able to manage, PJ helps Sophie off his shoulders. Phil has dropped all of his friends at least once, so he isn't allowed to be the boost anymore.

Phil hands his bags over to Chris while they're figuring that out. They'd left their laptop bags in the car so they had less to carry - except Dan, whose messenger bag is across their chest like they're prepared to make a quick getaway. Phil can't really blame them, since it's not like they signed up for this the way the rest of them have.

“Wait,” says PJ. He digs around in his jacket pockets until he comes out with a Sharpie marker that he probably stole from Martyn's bedroom. “Give me your arm.”

“You know I was joking about the protection sigils,” Phil says, but he rolls up his sleeve for PJ anyway.

“Well, I sure as fuck wasn’t,” says PJ. He looks at something on his phone before he takes Phil by the elbow and starts drawing something bubbly and almost cute. Phil figures that he’s planned these out, or at the very least had some letters picked out, so he watches the design bloom in fascination.

“What does this one mean?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t work,” says PJ, pressing one last dot right above the circular shape before he moves on and grabs at Chris’ arm without warning. Chris doesn’t seem to mind, he just lets PJ shove his sleeve up while he looks up at the boarded windows of the townhouse.

“That tickles,” Chris says, but he doesn’t try to take his arm back.

“Shut up, you big baby,” PJ murmurs.

It’s a different symbol that’s coming together on Chris’ skin, and Phil wonders why. Did PJ really make them unique protection sigils? That’s kind of cute and kind of hilarious. He watches Dan out of the corner of his eye as PJ finishes Chris’ sigil and moves on to Sophie’s. Dan’s brows are furrowed and they’re gripping at their own elbows from some combination of cool air and nervousness.

“Dan,” Phil says, shifting closer so they don’t get the whole peanut gallery involved. “You don’t have to be here. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Dan says with much less conviction than they’d had in the coffee shop.

Phil pretends to believe them. “But it’s okay if you are.”

The way Dan’s eyes fix on Phil’s makes him feel frozen in place, like Dan can somehow see into his soul. Their eyes are so warm and their lashes are so, so long that Phil feels certain that he won’t be the one to look away first.

“Are you scared?” Dan asks quietly.

Phil is terrified, but that has absolutely nothing to do with the house they’re breaking into. He shrugs, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and twisting them anxiously.

“This is a pretty normal day for me,” he says. “But I don’t always have a Scooby gang with me.”

The lines around Dan’s mouth deepen before their lips actually curve up, like a tell. Phil is fully prepared to wrestle with the instinct he’s got to stare at Dan’s lips some more, but he doesn’t have to.

“Are you fucking talking about Buffy again?” PJ hisses, bumping his elbow against Phil’s as he joins them. He reaches like he’s going to grab at Dan the same way he’s grabbed at the rest of them, but he hesitates with his hand outstretched. “Er, Dan, can I draw on you, too? I know you don’t believe in this stuff, but it’ll make me feel a lot better.”

“Go nuts,” Dan says, holding out their hand like PJ is a lord who ought to kiss it. PJ, of course, just starts drawing a new shape on the back of it, because that’s the logical conclusion. They watch the lines form shapes with a sort of vague interest.

“I wasn’t talking about Buffy,” Phil feels the need to clarify. “I’m not always talking about Buffy.”

“That’s news to me,” says PJ.

Dan grins, looking a lot more at ease now that the atmosphere is all banter and no ghost stories. “He wasn’t, I can vouch for him. Think he was making a classic Scoob refer-ino.”

“Ah, the ancient texts,” PJ says, his own shoulders going loose as he grins back at Dan. “Wait ‘til he has to take his contacts out later. It’s not as funny hearing someone shout that they can’t see without their glasses when that person is the one in charge.”

“I’m right here,” Phil reminds them. “And Velma was in charge.”

“All set,” PJ says like Phil hasn’t spoken, adding a flourishing tail to the edge of Dan’s sigil.

“Great,” Dan says, dry. “Glad I have my protection from things that are definitely not real. Now what’s keeping me safe from the very real possibility of a human being attacking us?”

“Phil’s crowbar.”

“Oh, sure, that makes me feel loads better.”

“Are you lot coming or what?” Chris hisses, hefting one of the sleeping bags over his shoulder.

Phil breaks away from the conversation with a strange fluttering in his gut that’s completely unrelated to the rush of adrenaline he still gets when he lets Chris and PJ boost him to an unlocked window. He’s not very graceful at the best of times, so he’s glad that he doesn’t do anything stupid like fall flat on his face in front of Dan. He sits on the windowsill and lets the weird vibes from the Wilkins house wash over him again, raising goosebumps down his arms even under his thick jacket. He frowns into the dim kitchen, looking for any sign of life.

“Pass me the bar,” he murmurs, letting a hand dangle without looking back at his friends. It feels like something was waiting for them; there’s an air of anticipation in the very real sensation of being watched.

The cold metal placed in his palm makes Phil feel better, even if he can’t actually do anything with it. He murmurs a thanks and slips into the kitchen, eyes roving over all the shadows and nooks in the old house. He hears Sophie clamber in behind him but he doesn’t turn to look. It feels like turning his back on the darkness will end badly for him.

“Oh, don’t like that,” Sophie whispers. Phil feels her brush against his arm and hears the camera click on as Chris and PJ start the familiar train of passing bags through the window.

“Feels weird, right?” Phil agrees, matching her volume.

He moves further into the house, knowing that his friends will catch up. Sophie stays at his side, pointing the camera into every corner like she, too, is trying to find the source of the invisible eyes that feel glued to them. They’ve done this together fairly often, and Phil has done this by himself even more often, but something about this place, tonight, makes him feel like they’re green again.

Phil tenses when he feels something grip at the back of his jacket, but then the something speaks with Dan’s voice.

“Okay, why don’t we turn on the lights?” Dan whispers, right in Phil’s ear. Phil shivers. Some new goosebumps might rise, as well, but there’s no real way to know for sure. He isn’t about to roll up his sleeves and check.

“Why would we do that?” Phil asks. He doesn’t tell Dan to let go of him, and they don’t. Dan keeps hold of the back of his jacket even as he leads the way to the lounge, and Phil spares a moment to consider how weird this is going to look if Sophie is getting it on camera. Like he’s Dan’s guide dog or something.

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Dan, “so we can see?”

“It’s not really that dark in here,” Phil says with a little huff of a laugh. “And we’ve got torches.”

The noise Dan makes is unhappy, but they don’t protest. Phil shakes his head, directing his smile at the unlit fireplace so Sophie can’t pick it up.

“Fuck this,” Chris’ voice comes from the hallway, much too loudly.

Phil and Sophie sigh in harmony.

“What’s he doing?” Dan hisses, and Phil turns to give them a longsuffering sort of look.

“Chris doesn’t like this part,” says Phil. He doesn’t bother whispering, because Chris is already knocking things against walls and shouting nonsense. “Being sneaky doesn’t come naturally to him, so he prefers to just announce that we’re here and ruin my shots. I usually edit this out.”

As ridiculous as Chris’ methods are, Phil feels the weight of invisible eyes on them lift. He should probably be annoyed at Chris for scaring the presence away or antagonizing it, but it feels like he can breathe again, like they truly are alone in this room, and he’s got to give Chris the credit for that.

When Chris joins them, an irritated PJ at his shoulder, he looks altogether too proud of himself. Both of them glance at Dan’s hand, still gripping onto Phil.

“Thanks for that,” Phil says dryly, stopping any commentary before it starts.

“Welcome,” says Chris, bright. “Shall we upstairs?”

The Wilkins place isn’t all that scary now that the weird vibes are gone, it’s just creaky and dark and dusty. Phil is fine with that - the place he lives is all of those things, too - but every small noise under their feet makes Dan twitch. They’ve shifted to tugging on Phil’s sleeve instead, sticking so close to Phil’s side that he can feel their body heat.

PJ leads the way to the attic, talking a mile a minute to the camera about the way he’d felt the first time he was here, and Phil pulls Dan to a stop a few feet from the rest of the group.

“You seem a little stressed,” Phil says, trying to hide a grin. He doesn’t want Dan to think he’s mocking them, but it’s just a little cute.

Dan’s eyes are wide and their bottom lip is extra chapped from how many times they’ve dug their teeth into it, but they still manage to scoff. “I’m not stressed,” they insist. “And I’m not scared. I’ve been here before, y’know.”

“You’ve been here for parties,” says Phil. “It’s a bit of a different vibe.”

“Little bit,” Dan admits.

“I’m not making fun of you,” says Phil. He pats Dan’s arm with his crowbar-less hand. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“You’re not scared.”

“I’ve been doing this a really long time,” Phil reminds them. It’s the sort of thing that Dan must objectively know, but they look a little sheepish like maybe they’d forgotten.

“It’s not that I’m scared of, like, ghosts or something stupid like that,” Dan says, letting go of Phil’s sleeve and scratching the back of their neck. He feels a bit bereft for it. “I just don’t really like the dark, y’know, and maybe I get freaked out sometimes just watching your videos, and I kind of expected it to be less scary IRL but it’s actually way worse so I don’t really know what to do with that.”

The number of words they can fit into one breath is truly incredible to Phil. He smiles at them and watches redness blossom in patches across their cheeks as they realise how much they’re talking without saying anything at all.

“That’s cute,” Phil blurts out.

Dan bites their lip again, smiling a bit. Before they can say anything, though, there’s a sort of crashing noise from the general direction of PJ and Chris. Phil is very used to this.

“Fuck,” Dan breathes, gripping onto the strap of their messenger bag and flinching when a follow-up bang echoes through the hall. “Why are they like this?”

“I ask myself that question every day,” Phil sighs.

“Boys,” Sophie calls over in her soft, amused voice. “The idiots have got the ladder down. You coming?”

Dan laughs and nods, but Phil takes hold of their arm before they can go too far.

“Hey,” he says. “I can tell her not to call you that.”

The soft look he gets for it, laughter still scrunching Dan’s eyes and showing off their dimples, makes Phil’s chest kind of cave in on itself. They shrug, pulling Phil along the way Phil guided them earlier. “I don’t mind. It’s not inaccurate.”

Phil swallows hard. “It’s not?”

“It’s also not accurate,” Dan says, that softness still all over their face. “We’ll talk about it later if you want to. Just trust me that I’ll say something if one of you makes me uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay,” Phil agrees, letting himself be dragged instead of letting go.

The floorboards in the attic are dirty and covered in marker, but Sophie finds a nice warm corner to set their sleeping bags up in. Chris is dealing with the camera and voice recorder, checking batteries on all their gadgets while PJ interrogates Dan on where they got their boots.

Phil tunes them all out and starts looking at the different sigils, taking photos and trying to figure out what somebody would possibly need from doing magic in a house that’s been empty for decades. Surely there are better places to open a veil like that. Phil doesn’t know a lot about magic, if it’s even a real thing, but he has a whole heap of assumptions and absolutely none of those point to a townhouse in Rusholme with working electricity.

When his eyes start to feel dry, Phil grabs his rucksack. “Be back in a sec,” he says, dropping the ladder down.

“What?” Dan asks, their voice pitching a little higher. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” says Phil. He hands his crowbar to Dan, because he feels somewhat certain that he won’t need it. “Can’t take my contacts out without washing my hands. I won’t be long, okay? Just hang onto this and don’t listen to anything Chris tells you.”

“I resent that,” Chris chimes in, stretching out on one of the sleeping bags. “See if I let you crawl into bed with me later.”

“When have I ever wanted that?” Phil sighs. He never knows how to react to Chris flirting with him, but it’s so much more awkward when Dan is blinking between them like they’re wondering if they’ve missed something. Whatever Dan is missing, Phil is pretty sure he’s missing it, too. “Like I said, don’t listen to Chris.”

Dan still looks nervous and a little confused, but all Phil can do is give them a reassuring smile before heading back downstairs.

The house is quiet and dim, streetlights streaming through the boarded windows and giving Phil enough vision to find a bathroom. It’s pretty gross, but the tap works and that’s all Phil really needs. He’s got anti-bacterial wipes and a travel-sized hand sanitizer, so that’ll have to substitute for the lack of soap.

Phil never feels more vulnerable than he does when his sight is impaired and no matter how much he blinks, his reflection doesn’t come into focus. In this moment, trying to get his contacts in their pot without incident because he does not trust this countertop, the lights above the mirror turn on. Phil freezes. Blinks. The lights go back off.

Slowly, he reaches for his glasses case. He can’t hear the click of a lightswitch when the lights keep flickering, which rules out his first suspicion of his friends messing with him.

As soon as Phil has his glasses on his nose, it stops. He blinks at himself in the mirror and waits for the lights to turn back off on their own, but they don’t. His hands are shaking a bit as he digs for his pills. With a deep breath, Phil runs the tap again to drink out of his cupped hands.

“If you’re toying with me,” Phil says to the empty bathroom, “then stop, but if you’re trying to communicate with me... do it again.”

Nothing happens. Phil isn’t sure if he should be relieved or not.

Everything gets shoved back into his rucksack with no ceremony, because Phil needs to be out of this small room as soon as possible. He slings it over his shoulder and heads back to the attic with careful steps, his heart pounding in his ears.

Phil doesn’t tell his friends what happened with the lights. It’s such a small thing, could have even been a coincidence, so it doesn’t make much sense to tell them now instead of when they’re all comfortable at the coffee shop again. There’s no point in freaking PJ and Dan out further when they both look like they’re about to crash. They and Sophie are all yawning where they’re curled up on the sleeping bags, in any case, and Phil meets Chris’ eye.

Neither of them are good at sleeping in the best of situations. They always take first watch, and sometimes they don’t end up sleeping at all.

Chris winks and passes Phil a flask. When Phil takes a cautious sip, warm coffee hits his tongue and he hums, wondering when Chris filled this up. It’s good coffee and isn’t making Phil’s heart race, so it’s most likely decaf.

They don’t talk, because PJ is already snoring lightly and Sophie’s head is pillowed on Chris’ thigh. Phil’s friends can fall asleep anywhere. It’s something he’s always been a bit jealous of. He looks down at Dan and feels his heart jump when Dan’s eyes are open and already looking back at him. The red patch on Dan’s cheek appears again, and Phil watches it in fascination.

Dan is pretty. There’s no real denying that one. They give Phil a sheepish little smile at being caught staring and close their eyes, curling close enough that Phil could reach down and smooth the curls off their forehead if he was stupid enough to do so.

He’s not that stupid. He hands Chris’ flask back to him and pulls out his phone instead. It’s looking like it’s going to be a quiet night after all, he can probably get a few more levels of Candy Crush out of the way. As much as Sophie makes fun of him for still playing it in 2019, it’s Phil’s favourite time-waster.

When he looks at Dan again, six levels later, Dan’s eyes are open. They aren’t looking up at Phil anymore, though, they’re just staring blankly at the attic wall and breathing shakily.

“Dan?” Phil murmurs, putting his hand on Dan’s shoulder. Dan doesn’t react. “Er, Dan?”

Dan’s body is so tense and their eyes are so wide, but they don’t say anything. They don’t even twitch. Phil looks over at Chris, who frowns and checks on Sophie in his lap. She’s stiff as a board, Phil suddenly notices - and so is PJ, whose unblinking stare is fixed on the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” Chris asks, tapping Sophie’s face lightly.

“I think this is the sleep paralysis,” says Phil. He gives into the urge to brush Dan’s curls out of their eyes, giving them a small comfort from whatever they’re seeing right now.

“How do we fix it?”

Chris doesn’t panic, because he doesn’t do that, but he looks unsettled in a way that Phil hasn’t seen him before. Phil finds himself wondering, not for the first or the last time, what these people mean to each other for this to rattle Chris so visibly.

“I don’t think we can,” Phil says, pulling his knees to his chest and continuing to run his fingers through Dan’s hair. He’ll apologise if he has to, but he likes to think that he’s helping in some small way. “When Dan told me about this happening, they said that nobody was able to wake the others up. I think we just have to wait it out.”

“I hate that,” says Chris. He laughs humourlessly and cups Sophie’s chin, tilting her face from side to side. “Fuck. It’s like she isn’t even home.”

Phil looks at Dan’s eyes again. They’re the same colour and shape as they’ve been all night, but the warmth and sparkle are completely gone. A shiver runs through Phil at the sight, and he bites his own lip. “Yeah. Yeah, I hate it, too.”

#quiet on widow's peak #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #phan #words words words

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ettadunham · 5 years

Text

A Buffy rewatch 6x19 Seeing Red

aka dick move joss

Welcome to this dailyish (weekly? bi-weekly?) text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And after today’s episode, who’s ready to get drunk and do some math? *points to self* It me. I’m drunk.

Seeing Red has not one, but TWO of the show’s most controversial scenes in the entire series, so that’s a distinction I guess. One that I should probably be talking about, but… you know. Turns out that when you drink the rest of your apple liquor in one sitting, your ability to form critical thought exponentially deteriorates with each and every second.

But math? Math is easy. You can do math drunk while walking on your hands. So let’s do math.

So, did you guys know that Amber Benson appeared in the most Buffy episodes per season while not being in the credits? It’s true. I made a very detailed excel sheet.

(Yes, these are all the actors who appeared at least 14 episodes of the show. I didn’t really need to include all of them to prove my point, but I did it anyway.)

Those purple highlights you see? Those are for actors who appeared at least 70% of the episodes while not being part of the main cast in a season. Apart from a few special cases where someone has been promoted to the main cast during a season (like Michelle Trachtenberg after one episode in season 5 or Marc Blucas following the first 10 episodes of season 4), the only ones this applies for is Kristine Sutherland and Amber Benson. And the latter’s 18 appearance during season 5 (aka 82% of the season) is our biggest outlier among those even.

Now, to be fair, actors who are part of the main cast never actually go below 83% in their own respective season appearances on Buffy (see the blue highlights that show the two instances that goes below 90% even), but like… Appearing in 16-18 episodes of at least two 22-episode seasons in a major capacity is still a fucking lot by any TV standards.

So the fact that neither of these actors have been promoted to regular status during their run is kind of weird. Maybe Joyce was often forced into the background, but Kristine Sutherland was a huge presence in season 5 in particular. Up until Joyce’s death in The Body, she appeared in all episodes, and had a cameo later in The Weight of the World. She should’ve been in the credits for that period, imo.

Similarly, if you look at other characters who occupied a comparable role to Tara – so, basically characters who were introduced as love interests to one of the Scoobies –, each and every one of them have been promoted to the main cast by their 3rd year at the very least. And Emma Caulfield, who was one of those third year joiners, only appeared in 5 episodes in her first season. Seth Green, who with his 10/22 appearance is much closer to Amber Benson’s 12/22 in their respective debut seasons, was part of the credits by his second year on the show.

In conclusion what I’m saying is that fuck you Joss for pulling that opening credits shit on us. No. This should’ve happened two seasons ago, and now you’re using it to play on the audience’s attachment to this character, dangling that promise of having more of her on the show just to take it away.

Not cool, my dude. So very not cool.

In other bad news, making that excel sheet sobered me up a bit (damn you, math), and now I’m just kinda tired and sad. It’s starting to dawn on me that this is the last I’ll see of Tara during this rewatch.

Maybe I should just start over from Hush? There’s an idea…

There’s also a reason why this episode is cited as such an egregious example of the Bury Your Gays trope even after almost two decades. With the show having been limited on what they can show of Willow and Tara’s relationship early on, the inclusion of the many sexual moments in this episode especially jumps out. Having that precede Tara’s death somehow manages to maximize the negative impact of it even more, reinforcing pre-existing harmful associations in the audience.

But then again, would it have been better to not have these moments at all? I don’t know the answer to that.

In any case, when I talked about character deaths earlier on this show, I mentioned that there are two criteria that I judge those: story impact and social impact. Meaning on one hand, that when you kill off a character, you want that to have a meaningful impact on your story and characters. It needs to have a purpose and long-lasting effects for it to satisfy your audience’s emotional needs. And on the other hand, there’s also the bigger media and societal landscape to consider. Especially when you’re killing off a character, who’s already part of an underrepresented group.

I think I probably already alluded to how I consider Tara’s death to be well-executed story-wise, despite being extremely poorly done in the latter regard. There are arguments to be made of course about how maybe the show could’ve killed a different character to achieve the same effect in the story, etc. – but I find the following arc captivating as it is regardless.

Then again, I also love Tara, and definitely wouldn’t have complained if the show just randomly brought her back from the death, story be damned. Unbury your gays, you cowards.

I guess I’ll also need to touch on the other controversial scene in the episode, huh? Well, I don’t want to.

But fine.

Hot take, but I just don’t connect to Spike. Not during this rewatch. And looking back at my feelings on it, I think that part of that is the very association that’s textualized here.

See, vampires are giant rape metaphors. Well, they can be metaphors for a lot of things, this is Buffy after all, but that’s definitely a big part of them. And the show’s been playing up this aspect with Spike in the past – usually it’s just been done for comedy.

Think about his scenes with Willow in Lovers Walk or The Initiative. The latter is especially chilling with the way he attacks Willow on her bed and turns up the music, right before we cut to black… and then we find out that Spike’s “impotent” and can’t bite her, and suddenly she’s comforting him? And it’s a comedy?

That scene is super weird. And uncomfortable. And that was probably part of its purpose, but it also means that I’m just not shocked by what he almost does here.

Spike’s a romantic, but he’s also a soulless vampire who can’t differentiate between love, death, sex and violence. He tells Buffy in a previous episode that he wouldn’t hurt her, but while he may believe that, it’s not true exactly. He doesn’t understand what Buffy needs. They share an understanding, but in this, he’s unable to empathize with Buffy beyond a certain level.

Afterwards though, he does seem to understand what he’s done, and given what we know of vampires, that’s pretty fascinating. He finally realizes that he can’t love Buffy without that empathy. And he can’t be the monster he used to be with these conflicts. So he’s off to rectify that.

Meanwhile Buffy’s out there, fighting superpowered nerds right after that fucking traumatic experience. Which… don’t get me wrong, I can definitely see how beating up Warren can be therapeutic, but there is also something to be said about the show not giving Buffy enough space to process certain traumas, and focusing more on Spike’s development instead.

Again though, it’s not that I don’t get it. Spike’s an intriguing character, and I can definitely see how a lot of people connect with him. His more negative traits are balanced out by his vulnerability, and his ability to self-reflect and grow. Just because I have a hard time relating to him, doesn’t mean that others shouldn’t enjoy his character. God knows that I have plenty of problematic faves...

Oh yeah, and Xander and Buffy share a nice scene by the end of the episode. Still, I guess I wanted a bit more out of it? Like Xander acknowledging how putting Buffy on a pedestal leads to him judging her more harshly, and how it’s something he should be working on in order to be a better friend to Buffy? Maybe I just want too much.

A character who was just perfect in this episode though? Dawn. Actual picture of Dawn Summers looking at Tara and Willow.

Same, Dawn. Same.

The last three minutes of Seeing Red? I don’t know her.

#buffy rewatch 2k19 #btvs talk #btvs

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kippenscore · 5 years

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Tell me with flowers - Flower shop/Tattoo Parlor AU

((English is not my first language so writing this has been a lot more difficult than I expected, tbh. If you see any mistakes feel free to tell me!))

TJ’s favorite shifts in the flower shop are the afternoon ones. The owner is usually out and about, which means that he can do whatever he wants when there are no clients in the shop, the golden light of the setting sun enters through the big windows, and the shop smells like jasmine flowers and soil from the newly potted plants.

It’s practically heaven on earth, while the morning shifts are a lot busier, his boss usually makes him run errands and deliver orders, and it also means that he has to deal with Buffy working the same shift.

So there has to be a reason as to why he has changed all his shifts to the morning, right?

“TJ, stop looking through the window and help me with this, for God’s sake”

TJ snaps out of his trance and grabs one of the bags full of potting soil that Buffy is carrying with difficulty from the backroom.

“Are you losing strength, Driscoll?” he smirks, leaving the bag on the table and starting to organize the different flowers they have to plant.

Buffys scoffs and doesn’t even try to dignify that question with a response. She starts filling up the pots with potting soil skillfully, not even looking at him.

Buffy and TJ, they have a weird relationship. They had a bad start, Buffy tolerating no bullshit and TJ being a little shit sometimes, but they have managed to make peace and somehow bond over shared interests. They are not the best of friends, and their relationship consists of making fun of each other most of the time, but they make it work.

“You know, it would be nice if you stopped acting like a wife waiting for his husband to return from war and worked sometime”

“I’m not acting like anything” TJ says, not as eloquently as he would have liked. Buffy stops what she was doing to look at him with an eyebrow raised. TJ just rolls his eyes and starts filling flowerpots, a lot less gracefully than Buffy.

“Sure” she says, shrugging. Then, TJ can see a devilish smile appear on her face “That is why you keep looking at the door with longing”

TJ shakes his head, pointedly not looking at Buffy “I don’t know what you are talking about”

“I’m talking about you blushing like a peony every time that guy comes by”

“Oh, blushing like a peony?” TJ says, removing one lily from the flowerpot with a little too much force “Nice choice of words, very fitting”

“You are deflecting” Buffy points at him “And try not to kill the plants, you brute”

TJ huffs. Of course he is deflecting. The last thing he needs is Buffy making fun of him for his obvious crush on the cute boy that comes by some mornings to buy flowers.

He is the reason he has changed all of his shifts, he had to make sure that he had an opportunity to see him again.

Not that it matters. Every time the guy looks at him he leaves TJ like a stuttering, blushing mess, and he doesn’t dare to talk to him more than the necessary in case he makes an idiot of himself.

Don’t judge him, it’s not his fault that the guy is cute, and polite and really well-dressed. He has these really big brown eyes, and a shy smile that could light up a room, and he always wears cardigans and asks him how he is doing before asking for the flowers he wants.

Of course TJ is crushing hard on him. Come on, who wouldn’t?

“You still here, TJ?” Buffy waves a hand in front of his face

“Huh?” TJ lets go of the plant that he has been holding for a while and cleans his hand on his apron.

Buffy looks at him, exasperated, but her face changes suddenly to an expression that TJ is incapable to read.

“You know what?” she says, taking off her apron “I think I’m taking my break now”

“What?” he says, and gesticulates to all the plants and flowers that they still have to plant out “And you are leaving me with all of this?”

Buffy shrugs, a little smile dangling on her lips “You’ll live, Kippen”

And TJ, eyes wide with incredulity, sees her hang her apron, open the door and just leave like that. He can’t believe that she would leave him with all the work to go flirt with the bakery guy. Because that’s where she is going. Buffy knows it, TJ knows it, even Marty, the guy from the bakery, knows it.

He clicks his tongue loudly, thinking about how he will get revenge for this, when the bell over the door rings again. TJ turns around.

It’s the cute boy.

“Hi, good morning” he says, stepping into the shop “How are you?”

In TJ’s defense, he thought Buffy had forgotten something and was the one entering the shop, so he had a pretty snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t expect cute boy.

TJ fumbles with the pot he was holding, nearly letting it fall from his hands. Finally, he places it in the table, trying his best to act natural.

“Hi” TJ says, cleaning his hands on his apron nervously. His voice sounds really high-pitched and he cringes internally “How, eh, can I help you?”

“Hm, I’m not sure. I don’t even know if I want a bouquet or a potted flower, to be honest” Cute guy says, smiling warmly at him “Any recommendation?”

“Well, I could fix you a bouquet with the camellias we’ve received this morning” TJ says, and gestures to at all the potted plants they have currently on the shop “And we have all of these and also primroses on the back”

“I can’t live without you”

His voice is barely a whisper, but TJ turns around at the speed of light. Did he just say what he has heard? He feels his face warm up, and he is sure that he looks as red as the roses they have outside the shop.

“The meaning” Cute guy says, eyes widening. His face has started to redden too and he is avoiding his eyes. “The meaning of primroses is `I can’t live without you´. You know, the language of flowers and, well- eh, yeah”

TJ heart rate starts slowing down again “Oh, yes, of course”

God, he is so stupid. He seriously needs to stop acting like a middle-schooler with a crush. He is supposed to be an adult.

“I’ll take one of the primroses” Cute guy says quickly, still avoiding looking at him.

TJ just nods, heading to the backroom where they have all the primroses potted to look for one to give to Cute guy. He really needs to stop calling him Cute guy, but it’s not like he knows his name. He could ask, sure, but TJ doesn’t trust himself enough for that, he would mess it up somehow.

“Do you like this one?” TJ shows him one of the flowers they have in the back. They are actually quite beautiful and well maintained, Buffy has done a good job with them.

Cute guy nods, and the next transactions are all done in silence. While he pays, TJ is trying his best to come up with something to say, something that won’t sound awkward, but his brain is not collaborating.

When TJ gives him his change, their hands brush and TJ could swear that cute guy blushed a little bit, but he is quick to grab his plant and head to the door.

“Thank you” Cute guy says, while opening the door “Have a nice day”

“You too” it’s the only thing that TJ manages to say before the door closes.

He throws himself on the chair behind the cash register and hides his face on his hands. God, why is he incapable to have a normal conversation with a cute guy. He could have asked his name, he could have flirted a little, but no, the only thing he did was blush like a kid with a crush.

The bell over the door chimes again, and TJ looks in between his fingers. Buffy stands in front of him, at the other side of the cash register.

“I guess it didn’t go well?”

TJ just groans, letting his head fall on the counter with a loud thud.

TJ is regretting a lot changing all of his shifts to the morning. First of all, because he blowed any chance he had with Cute guy, and second of all, because he has been running errands and delivering orders to the customers all morning and he is exhausted.

His feet are aching and he can barely see where he is going because he is carrying a giant flowerpot full of yellow tulips.

He stops in front of a tattoo parlor, thankfully not far from the flower shop, and sets the pot down on the sidewalk. The windows of the place are tinted, making it hard for him to see inside, and there is a big neon sign above the door that reads “GHC”, whatever that means. According to google maps here is where he is supposed to deliver the flowers.

He checks google again, confused. It doesn’t look like the typical place where they usually deliver flowers, so he is starting to suspect that he might have the wrong address, but there is only one way to know.

He picks up the giant flowerpot again and rings the doorbell with his elbow. When the door opens he basically stumbles inside the tattoo parlor.

“Hi” A confused voice says, and in between the tulips TJ can see a girl with short hair looking at him “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m in the wrong place” TJ tries his best to hold the flowerpot with only one hand to be able to see the girl he is talking to but fails miserably “There’s a Cyrus Goodman here?”

“Yes, he works here” She says, stepping forward. The girl takes the flowerpot from his hands and sets it down on the front counter.

“He asked for the flowers to be delivered here” TJ runs a hand through his hair, trying to make it look at least decent. He pulls the pad of papers from his back pocket and leafs through it trying to find the correct one.

Then, a guy comes out from one of the rooms in the back where TJ supposes they tattoo people. He doesn’t seem to have any tattoo, at least that TJ can see, but he is wearing a lot of piercings all around his face.

“Hey, are these Cyrus’ flowers?” he asks, and the girl nods in his direction. The guy with the piercings turns around and knocks the door of one of the rooms “Cy, your flowers are here”

TJ rips the correct piece of paper and gives it to the girl “If you could sign here, please”

“Yes, of course” The girl takes the paper and slips behind the front counter, scribbling her name down before passing it back to him.

TJ is ready to go when another guy coming out from one of the rooms in the back grabs his attention. TJ’s heart skips a beat.

It’s the cute guy from the shop. He is there, with his shy smile and his doe eyes, and only wearing a t-shirt instead of his usual cardigans. Which is a surprise, because it means TJ can see both his arms are full of tattoos.

TJ is pretty sure he looks like an idiot, standing there without saying anything, but his brain is short-circuiting and he can’t stop looking at him, trying to reconcile the image he had of Cute-guy from the image of Also-cute-but-heavily-tattooed guy he has in front of him.

“Oh” Cute guy says, stopping dead on his tracks. He looks at TJ, and a little smile grows on his lips “Hi”

The piercing guy looks at both of them “You know each other?”

“He works on the flower shop” Cute guy says. TJ should stop calling him cute guy in his mind, apparently he is called Cyrus.

“Oh, he works in the flower shop?” The girl says, with a particular inflection on her voice, like she is trying to imply something that TJ doesn’t catch. Cyrus looks at her and they seem to maintain a silent conversation just with their eyes.

“You really go a lot to that flower shop” The guy with the piercings says distractedly while looking through some papers.

“They have nice flowers, Jonah” Cyrus says quickly, gesticulating with his gloved hands. Then he looks at TJ, apologetically “I keep telling them, just because it’s a tattoo parlor it doesn’t need to be all black and gloomy, we are not goths, you know?”

TJ nods, still completely speechless.

“So that’s why I keep buying flowers and yours are really good and-” Cyrus continues, and TJ is not sure if he is talking to him or that Jonah guy “Sorry, I’m rambling”

“No, no. It’s okay” TJ says. He points lightly at the flowerpot in the front counter “So, are these the tulips you ordered?”

TJ feels a little bit awkward standing there, with his jeans and his hoodie that look too plain in comparison to their clothes and with dirt under his nails that look totally out of place in the extremely clean parlor.

“Yes, yellow tulips” Cyrus removes his gloves and steps towards the front counter to examine the flowers “Thank you so much for bringing this here”

TJ can’t take his eyes out of Cyrus’ arms. His tattoos are beautiful. It’s an intricate design of a flowers stretching across his arms, bursting with color. They are so detailed that he is sure that he could spend hours looking at them,

No wonder he knows about the language of flowers.

“What do they mean?” He finds himself asking, without really thinking “The yellow tulips”

Cyrus looks back at him and smiles, warm and wide, making TJ’s mouth go dry and the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering again.

“Shouldn’t he know? He is the florist” Jonah whispers, but the girl shushes him quickly.

“There is sunshine in your smile” Cyrus says simply, ignoring his coworkers, and TJ can feel his heart go wild on his chest.

“They suit you, then” he says, and there is a second when the world stops, and TJ wants to take back his words but he can’t. Then, Cyrus smiles, and TJ lets go the breath he didn’t notice he was holding and the Earth starts spinning again.

“Oh” Cyrus blushes profusely but holds his gaze, eyes sparkling with something TJ can’t describe. Recognition, maybe; something more, he hopes. TJ could get lost in his eyes.

“Ok, I have a question” The girl says, snapping TJ out of his trance. “How would you say in the language of flowers `Please, ask each other on a date so we don’t have to watch you flirt with each other anymore´?”

“Andi!” Cyrus exclaims, his cheeks blushing even redder. He hides his face in his hands, and TJ can’t help but laugh, a warm feeling deep in his stomach.

Cyrus looks at him in between his fingers, cheeks still red. TJ doesn’t know what to say, so he just smiles at him, sure that he is also blushing but not caring at all. Cyrus smiles back at him.

And TJ can only think about how true it is that he has sunshine on his smile.

(On their first date, Cyrus brings him daffodils. New beginnings, he tells him. TJ gives him thornless roses, but doesn’t dare tell him the meaning. He is pretty sure Cyrus knows either way)

#andi mack #tyrus #god this is baaaaad #sorry if there are mistakes my english is quite limited #also i know cyrus with tattoos is quite ooc #but i got the idea and couldnt let it go lol #TyrusAUChallenge #my writing #mine

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seriestrash · 6 years

Text

The List - Chapter Eleven

- 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 -

Summary: It’s summer vacation and TJ and Cyrus fill their days checking things of Cyrus�� list.

Read on AO3

Chapter Eleven: Four talks and a fight

Word Count: 5334

After realising his feelings for TJ during the firework display, Cyrus panics and quickly finds an excuse to go home even though Marty offered for everyone to stay at his house.

Cyrus went home alone and has a restless nights sleep as he was too busy stressing over this sudden and confusing realisation. Cyrus lays awake trying to make sense of his crush on TJ. At quarter to five in the morning, Cyrus is still wide awake and the faint ticks of the second hand from his wall clock were slowly driving him insane. Cyrus springs out of bed and changes into some casual clothes and he was far too frantic to perfectly craft his outfit like he usually would.

Cyrus makes his way out of the house and even though it’s only 5am, the sun has begun to rise since it’s summer. Cyrus power walks down the street with no real destination in mind but somewhere along the way he becomes set on a single idea and with that crazed thought in mind, Cyrus makes his way to the Shadyside pier.

Once at the seaside, Cyrus marches down the old wooden pier on a mission. As the end of the pier got closer, Cyrus’ strides became slower and shorter, even with fear and panic beginning to kick in, Cyrus forces himself to the edge. With a deep breath Cyrus leans forward to look at the water bellow. The water was calm, not at all mirroring how Cyrus currently felt.

Do it, Cyrus internally yells at himself, it’s just a little jump... and then a whole lot of ocean... As Cyrus is leaning forward and staring into the ocean trying to force himself off the pier, his cell slips out of his pocket and splashes into water bellow.

“No no no!” Cyrus whines as he watches it sink until it is no longer visible. “Just my stinking luck.”

“Are you talking to the fish, boy?” A mans voice startles Cyrus and he was lucky he didn’t fall off the edge of the pier when he jumped in fright.

“I dropped my phone.” Cyrus says defensively like he was in trouble. When Cyrus turns around he finds the man the voice belonged to. Just shy of the end of the pier was an old man fishing. Cyrus looks at him for a second and then realisation crosses his face, he knew this man. This was the old man Cyrus and TJ had spoken to at the beginning of summer, one half of the elderly couple TJ had asked to pick a number when they were beginning the list.

“I know you.” Cyrus says. “I met you briefly at the beginning of summer.”

The old man looks confused, “I forget things a lot these days, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Cyrus wears a sympathetic and sad smile, “You were with your wife of 60 years.”

This makes the man grin from ear to ear. “Would you like to sit down?” He motions to the space beside him. Cyrus didn't know why but he accepts the mans invitation and very nervously sits himself down, although Cyrus was too frightened to let his feet dangle over the edge so instead he sits a small distance back to be safe.

“My name is William, what’s yours?” He introduces.

“Cyrus. Nice to officially meet you.” Cyrus smiles politely.

“What seems to be troubling you, Cyrus?” William asks.

“It’s a long and complicated story,” Cyrus shakes his head, “So complicated I’m not sure I even understand it.”

“I’ve got time,” William gently shakes his fishing rod.

Cyrus is quiet for a second. Was he really going to open up to a complete stranger? Cyrus lets out a loud exhale and figures why not? “I think I have feelings for my friend..” Cyrus chooses to be vague.

“You think?” William gives Cyrus a questioning look.

“All signs are pointing that way and I have no idea how it happened.” Cyrus sighs, “We’ve been friends for the good part of a year now and somewhere along the way I ‘allegedly’,” Cyrus dramatically uses are quotes, “developed feelings for hi- them.”

The old man pauses in thought like he was wracking his memories for something in particular, then he nods with a smile.

“I remember you now.” William says, “You and your friend were at the diner, playing with your food.”

Cyrus laughs, “Yeah that's my friend TJ.”

“An this is the same friend you have feelings for?” William questions and Cyrus gives a sheepish nod as he had no idea how the man would react to Cyrus’ feelings being for a boy.

“Are you sure you didn’t like him back then?” William asks.

“That’s the point,” Cyrus sighs again, “I didn’t know I liked him until last night, who knows when these so called feelings developed?”

“And why are you out here on the pier so early in the morning and not talking to your friend about how you feel?”

“Because I don’t know how I feel.” Cyrus stresses. “And I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“If it’s a good friendship there’s nothing you could say to ruin it.” William says like a wise old man. “Even putting feelings out in the open.”

It’s a nice idea but Cyrus knew that unrequited feelings definitely could make things difficult between them. “I want to talk to him but I’m scared.”

“How does being on the pier help that?” William questions.

Cyrus quickly summarises the list and how they’ve been working through it all summer. “I came to the pier with the intent to jump off it. This is supposed to be the thing I’m most scared of on the list… If I could do this maybe I could face what I’m actually afraid of.”

“Which are your feelings for your friend?” William asks.

“My feelings in general.” Cyrus frowns, “Ever since I realised I was different I’ve avoided thinking about it. I don’t know what I am.”

William is quiet for a moment. “You like a boy?”

“I liked a boy, past tense, but even that was more of a weird infatuation.” Cyrus knits his brows, “My current feelings are to be determined. Maybe I’m just having a break down and TJ is being roped into that... Not that TJ isn’t likeable, I mean he’s always been so kind and supportive and tall-” Cyrus stops abruptly and shakes his head.

“Cyrus,” William chuckles and his old man laugh was comforting to Cyrus in a weird way, “Are you worried about liking this boy or what liking two boys means?”

“Both.” Cyrus shrugs. “I guess deep down, I know I like boys... exclusively…” Cyrus says with a squinted expression that makes it sound more like a question he wanted answered.

“I think they have a word for that, son.” The old man says with a quiet laugh.

"Okay, so I’m gay,” Cyrus says out loud for the first time ever and it was honestly a such a relief to admit it to himself more than anything, “That doesn’t mean I like, TJ…” Cyrus folds his arms with a huff and this causes William to laugh again.

“You’re going to be okay, son.” William says and for some reason that was extremely comforting to hear, even from a perfect stranger.

Cyrus stays with William for over an hour. Cyrus was still too stressed to entertain the idea of liking TJ so he instead asks William about his marriage. Eventually Cyrus parts ways with William, he thanks the man for their conversation and makes his way home and even though admitting he was gay out loud for the first time was quite the relief, he still was no more certain about his feelings for TJ than he was last night.

Cyrus enters his house and closes the front door beside himself.

“Cyrus is that you?” Todd, Cyrus’ stepfathers, voice calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Cyrus calls back and makes his way to the kitchen where his voice was coming from.

“You disappeared early this morning and you weren’t answering your phone.” Todd frowns.

Cyrus lets out a groan, “I’m sorry, I went for a walk and I lost my phone.”

“You lost it?” Todd looks a little upset by this.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus frowns and he decides to not get into the full story.

Todd softens after noticing Cyrus’ glum expression, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m just really missing my friends.” Cyrus says and this was an honest answer, it might not have been the whole truth but now more than ever, Cyrus wished he had the comfort of his best friends.

“Well there’s a little something in your room that might cheer you up.” Todd says with a smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll talk to your mom about the phone.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus mumbles and he was doubtful anything could change his current mood but still he forces a smile for his stepdad’s benefit. Cyrus sulks down the hall towards his bedroom. He pushes open his bedroom door and is speechless at the surprise waiting on the other side of it. Standing in his room with cheerful expressions was Andi, Buffy and Jonah and they all shout a joyful, “Surprise!”

“You guys are back?” Cyrus’ mouth hangs agape, “You’re not supposed to be back for three more days!”

“We came home early to surprise you.” Buffy says through a smile.

“Are you going to stand there the whole time or can we have a hug?” Andi asks with her arms out wide. A group embrace follows and Cyrus had to try very hard to stop himself from crying, having his best friends back at a time when he needed them most was absolutely overwhelming.

“Tell us about your summer,” Andi says, “I want to know everything.”

“Me too.” Buffy says, “I need you to explain to me again how you ended up becoming best pals with Walker and Marty of all people?”

“And TJ.” Jonah adds.

“We all already knew he liked, TJ.” Buffy chuckles.

“You did?” Cyrus asks frantically.

“Yeah, Cyrus, you were friends before summer.” Buffy laughs.

“Right.” Cyrus shakes his head. She means as friends. Of course she does.

“I don’t want to talk about my summer, tell me about your summer, I’ve missed you guys so much!” Cyrus tries to avoid thinking about TJ or making anyone suspicious about what was going on. “Andi how was the road trip? Buffy, Jonah, how was camp?” Cyrus asks.

The three sit around and all get reaqiunted, although they had surprised Cyrus, they had all been separated from each other this summer. Even though Cyrus was ecstatic to have his friends home and genuinely interested in hearing about their adventures he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to his confusion over his feelings for TJ.

“Is everything okay, Cy-Guy?” Jonah questions.

“Totally.” Cyrus nods. “I just missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too.” Andi says with a loving smile and she and Cyrus exchange a lovey dovey look.

“I think I’m going to go home and unpack my bag, hang out with my dad for a bit,” Jonah gets up, “I’ll let the good hair crew catch up.”

“You don’t have to leave.” Andi frowns.

“It’s okay. You guys should talk.” Jonah smiles, “But we should all go to The Spoon tomorrow?”

“I’ve missed their baby taters and milkshakes so much.” Buffy rubs her stomach.

“Count me in.” Andi says softly with a nod.

Once Jonah leaves, Cyrus could feel the mood in the room flip completely. Both girls were pointing quizzical looks at Cyrus and he felt like he was being interrogated.

“Are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Buffy asks.

“Nothing is wrong.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“You love talking about yourself,” Buffy jokes with a soft laugh, “How come every time someone asked you about summer you’ve deflected?”

“Did something happen?” Andi questions, “You seemed to be having a blast with the ‘bouncy boys’-”

“Still not okay that you started a new crew.” Buffy interjects.

“What happened?” Andi finishes her sentence.

Cyrus lets out a frustrated groan as he knew there was no hiding from his two best friends. “I have a crush on TJ and I don’t want to talk about it.” Cyrus folds his arms across his chest.

Buffy blinks with a blank expression for a moment whilst Andi is smiling.

“You two aren't acting surprised, why aren’t you acting surprised?” Cyrus questions.

“We’re not surprised.” Buffy states.

“So you’re telling me you you knew and didn’t tell me?” Cyrus is offended.

“You didn’t know?” Andi laughs softly. “We just thought you didn’t want to tell us yet.”

“I didn’t even know that I liked him. Allegedly.” Cyrus points his finger in the air. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I want to talk about it.” Andi says.

“That’s all I want to talk about.” Buffy agrees.

“I wasn’t exactly sure you liked him, but hearing you talk about your summer over the phone made me think that maybe it was possible.” Andi explains.

“The thought crossed my mind while we were still at school.” Buffy shares.

“Really?” Cyrus questions.

“I thought you liked Jonah?” Andi questions, “Do you like both of them?”

“No, his crush on Jonah is gone.” Buffy shakes her head and then an idea crosses her face, “Did it go away because you like TJ?”

“You don’t like Jonah anymore?” Andi questions, “Why didnt you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Cyrus says. “And I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t bring something up and then not talk about it.” Buffy states, “It’s a good hair crew rule.”

“You broke that rule when you refused to tell me who your secret crush was.” Cyrus retorts.

“Cyrus!” Buffy whines.

“You have a secret crush?” Andi questions, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Buffy shrugs.

“Is it someone I know?” Andi continues her questioning. “Would I be hurt by your crush?”

“No!” Buffy insists.

“Then why can’t you tell me?” Andi frowns. “Why do you guys not tell me stuff anymore?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to tell me I told me so.” Buffy huffs.

“Why would I say that?” Andi asks.

“Because her crush is on Marty…” Cyrus says as it clicked in his brain.

“Marty?” Andi asks. “From the party? As in the Marty that you virtually dated but for real turned down?”

“See!” Buffy says, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I knew you liked him back when you fake dated.” Andi eyes Buffy.

“Whatever.” Buffy folds her arms, “It doesn’t matter now because Marty has a girlfriend and nothing is ever going to come of my stupid crush.”

“Marty broke up with his girlfriend at the end of the school year,” Cyrus informs her, “Did I forget to mention that?”

“Yes.” Buffy says, “But it still doesn’t matter.”

“It definitely matters!” Cyrus says excitedly, “Marty st-“ Cyrus stops himself. As much as he wanted to speculate about Marty’s obvious intrest in Buffy still, Cyrus didn’t want to do that to a friend.

“Marty what?” Buffy questions.

“Marty is a great guy.” Cyrus smiles.

“What about you, Andi?” Buffy turns the attention on someone else. “How was it seeing Jonah again?”

“Weird?” Andi shrugs, “I don’t know. I’m happy to see him but it’s been so long apart.”

“Maybe you should stop by his house tonight and talk alone?” Buffy suggests.

“That can wait until tomorrow.” Andi says. “I want to stay here with you guys.”

“And I want to know how my sweet and innocent best friend could like a toad like TJ Kippen.” Buffy turns her head Cyrus.

“Buffy!” Cyrus frowns.

“Fine, since we’re friends now I can be nicer,” Buffy sighs, “He’s a total frog, how could you like him?”

Cyrus jumps up from his desk chair with a groan, Andi and Buffy who are sitting at the end of Cyrus’ bed eye him for this outburst.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Cyrus repeats. “I’m too confused. I have no idea when I began to like him... I thought maybe it was when he helped me with the muffin but then I’m pretty sure I was just surprised that he was being nice to me because he was a scary guy.” Cyrus begins pacing around the room whist the two girls follow him with their eyes, “Then I thought it could have been our first time on the swings because that was a really nice moment, it was the first time we really talked but I’m pretty sure I was just intrigued by his softer side, I don’t know if I like liked him back then.” Cyrus stops dead in his tracks and scrunches up his face, “Was it his apology rap?” Cyrus begins his pacing again, “Please don’t be there rap, of all the moments we’ve shared, it couldn’t possibly be the rap.. Could it?”

“For someone who doesn’t want to talk about it you sure have a lot to say.” Andi lets out a quiet laugh and Buffy nods with a knowing smile too.

“What I want and need are clearly two different things.” Cyrus sighs and he flops down on the bed between them. “I don’t even know if I have a crush on him at all. Maybe I just like how nice he’s been to me this summer and I’m misplacing my feelings,” Cyrus stares at the ceiling as he talks. “When I liked Jonah I was nervous around him all the time, I couldn’t think straight, I was so obsessed with him liking me or thinking I was cool but it’s not like that with TJ. Since the swings I’ve only ever been comfortable with him… I mean sure there is my surface level anxiety present but that’s always there… Other than that, being around TJ is easy. I’m not worried about him liking me because he’s only ever encouraged me to be myself…”

Andi and Buffy both lay back beside Cyrus, their shoulders all brushing together.

"You totally like him.” Andi says with a smile pointed to the ceiling.

“You like, like him.” Buffy nudges Cyrus with a giggle.

“I know.” Cyrus exhales with a frown. “What am I going to do?”

“You could tell him how you feel?” Andi suggests.

“Absolutely not.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“You could lay here and avoid your feelings forever?” Buffy jokes.

“I like that idea, let’s do that.” Cyrus is hopeful.

Buffy rolls onto her side and looks at Cyrus, “I think TJ could like you back.”

Cyrus sits up and gives her an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

“I’m being serious, Cyrus. Maybe it’s wrong for me to speculate but I think it’s possible...” Buffy says. “I could go see him and try and work it out-”

“No way.” Cyrus shuts that idea down.

“You can’t just suppress your feelings for the rest of your life, Cyrus.” Buffy coaxes her head.

“Are you going to tell Marty how you feel?” Cyrus challenges. “Or Andi, are you going to face the awkwardness between you and Jonah?

“Hey, don’t drag me into this, I’m not pressuring you.” Andi is still laying down as she whines.

Buffy lays back down too, “Problem avoiding, party of three.”

Cyrus rejoins them with a small smile, “I really missed you guys.”

The next day the four friends meet for an early lunch. Although Cyrus was still quietly obsessing over the TJ of it all, he was very much enjoying having Andi, Buffy and Jonah with him.

They’re still catching up about their individual summer escapades when the food arrives. Cyrus is only one baby tater in when the bell on the door chimes and the person entering sends him into a spiral. Both TJ and Marty enter.

“Oh my god, hi?” TJ is surprised to see who Cyrus was seated with. “I didn’t think you got back for two days.”

“We missed each other so much we decided to come home early.” Andi says with a sweet smile.

“And I already beat everyone at everything at camp,” Buffy wears a smug grin, “It was boring.”

Marty smiles at this but doesn’t directly comment. Buffy notably grows sheepish.

“Are you guys going to sit down?” Jonah asks as the two boys were just hovering by the table.

Marty pushes TJ to squish into the booth on Cyrus’ side and he pulls over a chair and sits at the end of the table.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were back?” TJ looks to Cyrus as he sits down. Cyrus can only offer up a shrug and goes back to eating his baby taters.

As time passes things only got more awkward. Cyrus was closed off completely and not contributing to the conversation unless directly called upon. To make it worse he felt like he was being analysed by Buffy and Andi as they were interested to see the dynamic between Cyrus and TJ. Marty was acting strange like he had been for a few days now and Cyrus wanted nothing more than to bail.

After everyone is finished eating they were all just lingering around to chat. Cyrus spent five minutes mentally trying to find an excuse to leave. Before he can offer up an obvious lie, Jonah says he’s got to go and asked if Cyrus wanted to walk him home as his mother said she missed him. Cyrus jumps on the opportunity to escape and leaves without really saying goodbye properly.

Once outside the two begin walking and Jonah appeared to be in thought, like he was trying to figure out what to say.

“My mom didn’t really say she missed you.” Jonah says and Cyrus looks hurt by this, Jonah lets out nervous laugh, “I’m sure she does miss you, it just looked like you needed an excuse to leave.”

“Was it that obvious?” Cyrus questions.

“Did something happen between you guys?” Jonah questions. “Is this why you seemed kinda down yesterday?”

Cyrus frowns to himself, this conversation was flaring up his anxiety greatly. He couldn’t talk to Jonah, not about this. “It’s nothing,” Cyrus shakes his head, “I can’t talk about it.”

“But you can,” Jonah says, “If you want...”

Cyrus felt Jonah’s side stare and he stops in his tracks causing Jonah to as well. Cyrus studies Jonah’s expression and knits his brows in response, “You know?”

“That you like TJ?” Jonah asks softly. “Yeah.” He nods.

“How did you-” Cyrus can’t even finish his question, he just looks at Jonah in a state of shock.

“I know I’m kind of oblivious sometimes,” Jonah laughs at his own expense, “But I roomed with this kid at camp, he opened my eyes up to a lot of stuff going on around me that I missed.”

“He did?” Cyrus asks nervously.

“For like three whole months I thought you had a crush on Buffy.” Jonah laughs. “I was very wrong about that.”

“On Buffy?” Cyrus chokes on his own laugh. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you wanted to fix her TJ problem-” Jonah shakes his head embarrassed, “I don’t know what I was thinking okay.”

Cyrus laughs at this and he couldn’t believe he was having a discussion with Jonah Beck about his feelings.

“Then he suggested you might have wanted to fix things between them for another reason.” Jonah says.

“I think I need to meet his guy, it sounds like he’s got all my confusing feelings worked out,” Cyrus jokes.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” Jonah says.

“I don’t want to talk right now, I kind of want to avoid my problems until it all blows up in my face.” Cyrus says.

“But when it all blows up?” Jonah asks in a lightly joking manner.

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer to talk.” Cyrus smiles. “So you’re okay with me being gay?” He said it out loud for the second time, it still felt strange but it was getting easier.

“Of course.” Jonah says genuinely, “You’re the best, Cyrus, nothing could change that.”

Cyrus can’t help but smile at this, he was terrified of Jonah finding out his feelings in the past and he clearly had no reason to. Whilst Cyrus had no intention of bringing up his past crush with Jonah he did think that maybe one day he would be able to laugh about it with him.

Cyrus does stop by Jonah’s house for a while to say hello to the Beck’s before returning home. Cyrus’ surprise chat with Jonah about his sexuality was enough for Cyrus to distract himself from obsessing over TJ.

Cyrus returns to find his mom cooking dinner and he offers to help. Cyrus’ mother hums along to the radio that’s lightly playing in the background whilst Cyrus remains quiet in thought. The door bell rings and interrupts them both.

“Keep an eye on that pot on the stove while I get the door.” Leslie quickly bounces off towards the front of their house.

Cyrus stops chopping the vegetables and goes over to stir the pot. As he pops the lid back over the pot on the stove he hears his mother greet someone at the door in very welcoming way.

“TJ, honey, hello.” Leslie says and Cyrus tenses up. “We haven’t seen you in while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been sick this past week but I’m fine now.” TJ replies and Cyrus is hiding in the kitchen in a panic.

“That’s good, come in. Cy is in the kitchen helping me with dinner.” Leslie invites him in.

Cyrus seriously considered bailing, just leaving out the back door and never returning but Leslie had accompanied TJ into the kitchen before Cyrus could execute his escape plan.

“Hey, Cy.” TJ says gently as he hovers by the kitchen counter.

Cyrus pretends he was still stirring the pot on the stove, “Hey, TJ.” He says casually without turning around.

“You boys go off into your room, Cy. I’ll finish up with dinner,” Leslie says as she pries the wooden spoon from Cyrus’ hand. “TJ you’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

“Thanks.” TJ smiles, “You know I love your cooking.”

Great, he’s being charming, Cyrus thinks to himself with a frown. Without a word Cyrus sets off down the hall in the direction of his room. TJ is a step behind him and playfully steps on the back of Cyrus’ shoe because he knew it annoyed the shorter boy but instead of reacting with an amusing sulky expression like TJ had expected, Cyrus just ignores him and continues on.

Cyrus hovers in his room whilst TJ takes a seat at the edge of Cyrus’ bed, he picks up the tiny stuffed frog Cyrus had won and twirls it in his hand. Cyrus plants himself in the desk chair in the opposite corner of the room. An awkward second that felt like an eternity to Cyrus passes.

“So..” Cyrus says nervously. “Is something up?”

“No,” TJ shrugs a shoulder “ I just thought we could hang.”

“We just saw each other for lunch at the Spoon.” Cyrus states.

“It’s not like we haven’t hung out twice in a day before.” TJ acknowledges. “But if you’re going to be weird about it, I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to go.” Cyrus says unconvingly and TJ still gets up to leave.

“The real reason I came here was to ask why you’re being so weird with me.” TJ says

“I’m not being weird.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“Yes you are, I was worried I did something at the carnival-“

“You haven’t don’t anything wrong.” Cyrus interrupts.

“So why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me the past two days?” TJ frowns.

“I’m not avoiding you.” Cyrus tries to look casual and not as anxious as he felt.

“You bailed straight after fireworks, you ignored my texts all day yesterday, you didn’t tell me that “Buffy, Andi and Jonah were back and you clearly didn’t want me at The Spoon”

“That’s not true and I dropped my phone off the pier so I couldn’t message you.” Cyrus explains.

TJ wears a confused look and Cyrus just sighs and says it’s a long story.

“Why are we fighting? This is kind of stupid.” TJ tries to defuse things with a laugh but it felt forced.

“Maybe we’ve hung out so much this summer we’ve started to annoy each other,” Cyrus spins the desk chair slightly and starts fiddling with something on his desk, his body angled away from TJ as he says, “Maybe it’s a good thing if we hang out with other people.”

“So I spend all summer helping you with your stupid list but the second your other friends come home you’re ready to bail?” TJ looks hurt by Cyrus’ suggestion.

“So now my list is stupid?”

“All the sudden I’m annoying for helping you?” TJ retorts.

“That’s not what I meant.” Cyrus frowns.

“That’s what it sounded like.” TJ says, “Don’t worry, Cyrus, I’ll just do the pier jump with Walker and Marty instead. “You have fun with your real friends now they’re home.”

Cyrus wanted to stop TJ and explain why he’s being so weird but he couldn’t bring himself to. He thought maybe it was best if TJ and him weren’t as close anymore. He felt guilty for this whole summer and now that Cyrus was aware of his feelings, it just felt wrong for them to be so close without TJ knowing the truth. Cyrus felt like a bad person, how could they ever have a sleepover again, or even have a harmless piggyback without feeling like he was doing something wrong. Cyrus never felt like this with Jonah but they were also new friends at the peak of his crush, they weren’t really best friends until his feelings went away.

After TJ storms out in a huff, Cyrus goes over to the bed and picks up his little frog from the carnival that TJ dropped before exiting. Cyrus holds it in his hands as he flops down on his back. A short moment later Leslie is in Cyrus’ doorway with a concerned expression.

“I saw TJ leave, he seemed upset,” Leslie frowns, “Is everything alright?”

Cyrus thought about brushing it off. Smiling and telling his mother that everything was great but even after all the comforting chats he’s had the past two days all he wanted to do was talk to his mom about it. Especially after this fight with TJ.

Before Cyrus could get any words out he starts crying. Within a second Leslie is by her sons side on the bed and she wraps her arms around him with a comforting embrace.

Eventually Cyrus manages to stifle his sobs long enough to tell his mom everything. About his crush on Jonah, his confusion about being gay, his new crush on TJ and how he’s pushed him away because he feels like he’s being a bad person. Leslie wipes tears from her sons damp cheeks and assures him he has nothing to feel guilty for.

“TJ hates me now.” Cyrus says sadly.

“Oh cookie, he doesn’t hate you, I can assure you of this much.” Leslie says with a small smile, “You obviously mean a lot to him too so pushing him away wouldn’t feel the best. He’s just upset and doesn’t understand why.”

“I don’t even understand why.” Cyrus frowns and he felt the urge to start crying again. Leslie comforted Cyrus as long as he wanted her to. She didn’t say “oh I already knew” or anything that made him feel like she had pre diagnosed him, nor did she say or do anything that made Cyrus feel like he was currently being analysed. It didn’t feel like a therapy session between a doctor and her patient, it felt like the comforting motherly love Cyrus didnt know he needed until she was giving it.

End Notes: The next chapter is the last one!!!! There will be an epilogue and a bonus chapter after that. But as for what to expect next: the list is over. Is it complete? Scrapped? We shall see…

** New notes *** I wrote this prior to season 3 beginning so obviously we ignore facts like Buffy’s crush being on Walker (my muffy heart can’t allow it sorry) and obviously the fact that Cyrus was in London for the summer lol.

[Next Chapter]

#tyrus #tyrus au #tyrus fic #the list fic #andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman

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nightlyarrows · 5 years

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your father always told you how SPECIAL you were. he told you the legends and myths of those that came before you. a supernatural connection he called it, one that made you stand out from the others. you couldn’t tell them though. your own stepmother thought you were INSANE when you told her you felt the bird’s death, that someone was hunting around your house when they shouldn’t. your father was the one that stopped her from getting you a therapist, the one who kept you sane all of those years. you weren’t normal, but who was? you wanted to have HOPE for people, that they weren’t all like her. young and naive some would call it, those like your father couldn’t protect you forever. you didn’t listen, you couldn’t listen, you should’ve listened.

growing up your favorite shows all had some element of a secret life. charmed and buffy the vampire slayer. not only did they each have something mystical to them, but you could relate to them on some level. prue halliwell was STRONG and INDEPENDENT. she took shit from no one and how badly you wanted to be her. you wanted to have her confidence even if she didn’t really accept the truth about her powers right away. willow was HUNGRY for more knowledge once she found out she was a witch. she had a girlfriend and didn’t run away from any of it. maybe lgbt+ characters could have a happy ending. everyone was better off for what these two did, what all the other characters did.

as special as they were, as close to them as you felt, they still hid a part of their lives from the people that they cared about the most. prue didn’t till andy she was a witch until the end and then he DIED. buffy felt like she dragged her friends into the supernatural world and was HESITANT. yet they all had their happy endings eventually. you might have been young, but who was to say that you couldn’t have your own happy ending already? you might not have lived yet, you weren’t even old enough to get into an r-rated movie alone, but you had PASSION and HOPE. isabella was your best friend since kindergarten, nine years and counting, she would have understood.

both of you laid down within the same tree. you were higher than her back that was because this was your home, you were taller and more adventurous than her. there was a small pause as the sun was setting down, the moon already in the sky, and you wondered about your next steps. ❛ hey isa? ❜ your legs dangled on each side of the thick branch, you pushed yourself up so you were no longer laying down and looked down at her. your bottom lip had teeth marks on it, clearly you were chewing on it for a couple of minutes while you contemplated your next steps. ❛ do you ever feel like your special? like more than whatever the heck everyone else is. ❜ you had no choice but to feel that way. it was how your father described you, how he explained your need to be outside late at night, your dyslexia, and your adhd. being special was the only thing you had constant in your life.

❛ my dad says that there are these legends of people being descendants of gods or spirits. how mytstical connections can actually be real and you have a higher purpose. ❜ mr. falco was always vague, but you had done a lot of research. you read a lot of books and narrowed it down to nyx or artemis in greek mythology. one of them had to be your mother, there was no other way. she wouldn’t leave you unless she had a good reason. your father wouldn’t emphasize secrets and how special you were unless it was one of them. god this was driving you mad and you just had to talk to someone about it. ❛ i know i’m not entirely normal… that’s what i’m trying to say i guess. i think my mom is a goddess! how cool would that be? ❜ lips curved out into a wide smile as you looked down at your best friend of nine years.

hope quickly vanished from your face as you saw her reaction. she was laughing so hard that the sound traveled through the woods. ❛ a goddess!? ❜ she couldn’t look at you straight in the face. as she was speaking, she fell down from the tree because she was laughing so hard. ❛ dude, your mom left you, you don’t have to make up a weird story about who she was. maybe you were just a product of a one night stand. ❜ your blood boiled as you peered down at her. she was just like your stepmother, a nonbeliever who thought that you were crazy. tears started to well in your eyes but you were high enough that she couldn’t see them. tiny hands curled into fists as you wiped away the tears with the sleeve of your hoodie. ❛ get out. ❜ you couldn’t handle this. you’ve watched enough shows by now to know how this was going to end. they were going to ridicule you in front of everyone, but thankfully it was already over. you had all graduated and the one friend you thought you were going to keep had no exited out of your life.

you climb down from the tree, demeanor colder than it was before. you would keep your secret like your father said, never echo another word of this, but what she said about your mother was unforgivable. ❛ call your mom and tell her you’re not staying over anymore. i don’t care if you have to wait in the curb of the street, get out of my house. ❜ your face was expressionless, but your heart was breaking into a million pieces. in a matter of minutes you became more calculating and observant than you ever were before. this is how you were going to have to be in order to survive, in order to not get your heart broken. you wouldn’t be cold right off of the bat, you’d still be nice and warm, but if they ever disrespected your name like that you would never stand for it. better to lose a best friend than gain a life full of heartbreak.

her expression changed right away, it was as blank as can be after she finally stopped laughing about your claim. ❛ fine, i didn’t know you were this weird anyway. ❜ she shrugged slightly, blonde hair almost slapping you in the face as she turned on her heel and walked back inside to get her things. oh how you wish you could hit her, be the lion that tore her to shreds with your bare teeth. you didn’t know where this anger came from, but you didn’t like to be treated like a FREAK.

you went back into the woods, spending at least another hour there. your father came looking for you when isabella left and asked what had happened. he found your crying against the bark of a tree, a rabbit in your lap trying to comfort you. all you did when he came was just look up, tears dripping from your chin, and hold the animal even closer to you. ❛ you were right dad, people suck. from now on this secret is staying between the both of us and no one else. they won’t understand. ❜ except for the animals. aside from never having more than a dog as a pet they seemed to understand you, another part of the connection that people wouldn’t get.

#listen i'll probs write something some other time #about how his s/o reacted #cause i feel like that would be more gut wrenching #but lmao here have this #i hate isabella

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whiteroseisendgame · 5 years

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RWBY the Vampire Slayer

I’m really bored at home for Christmas goings-on, so I made this abomination a reality. I watched this classic music video and things spiralled from there. Here’s a smattering of other edgy songs I threw together to listen to while I finished it off.

“Seriously, don’t.” Yang cowered in the corner of the room, hands outstretched, begging her teammates to stop approaching. Her eyes were a deep red, but she was in no state to have her semblance active. The urges were clawing at her even now. Just a bite, it’s all you need! Almost like another voice was arguing with her sanity. “Yang, are you…?” Ruby asked, hesitantly. “Check. My. Aura.” Yang wrestled the words out, watching their shocked expressions.

“Y-you’re dead! H-how-?” Weiss shivered, her nerves surfacing. “I’m… A vampire.” The blonde reached towards her scarf, pulling it loose and revealing two pin-like marks on her neck. It’d been a week since she was turned, and the need to eat was slowly overpowering any rationality. Hissing and baring fangs, the three of them agreed they needed to get her some blood before trying to work anything else out.

Alone in the dark room, Yang sat across from the mirror hung over the fireplace, a constant reminder of her current state. Skin much paler than even Ruby’s, and cold to the touch. And an acquired taste for human blood. Without anyone nearby, her mind cleared almost instantly, able to hide her fangs and relax into the chair. “Vampire, huh?” Blake shouted across the room, throwing a plastic bag of crimson fluid onto Yang’s lap. Without hesitation, she tore into it, almost dissociating as her body drank. “I’m s-sorry, guys. One of them got to me on our last mission. Told me this was punishment for us hunting so many. I did my best to control it, to ignore the hunger. But it’s impossible to think properly after a few days.” Their friend was back in almost full control, it seemed. After hearing her out, the team filed back into the room, sitting a fair distance away, save for Blake, who took the other half of the sofa the vampire was curled up on. “We’re supposed to be vampire hunters, Yang. How are we going to do that with one of our own being turned?” Weiss accused, seemingly the most annoyed at the development. “Weiss, that’s not fair. I’ve asked Uncle Qrow to come, he says he might have a solution.” Ruby explained, doing her best to reduce the tension in the room. “So, heheh, did you… Get all those cool vampire powers? Do people find you irresistibly attractive? Can you turn into a bat? Are you even stronger than you already were?” “Really!? I get turned and you ask if I get cool powers. No ‘we’ll have to kill you’ or anything?” Even as a vampire, her voice still cracked as she mentioned the possibility. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Weiss interrupted, dismissing the notion entirely. “We’re not getting rid of you. And you have started looking kinda hot recently, right Blake?” “Uhhh, yeah, sure. Recently.” Her ears lowered a little as she mumbled her response, only to perk up again thanks to a knock at the door.

Qrow shook his cloak off his shoulders where it had acted as meagre protection from the rain. Carrying a leather briefcase with him, he placed it onto table in the middle of the room before crouching to examine Yang. She winced as he edged closer, his eyes widening when it dawned on him that the silver cross was still dangling from his neck. Deliberately hanging it as far away as possible, he turned back to address his nieces and their friends. “Well, even without the eyes, that reaction is enough proof. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Yang. I’ve been working on a concoction that should keep her as-is. I can bring you more blood and holy water when you run out, but mix the stuff in the case together and it should work.” Despite his mostly deadpan tone, his concern for Yang was still audible. Watching her friends grow old while she remained like that. He could tell when Ruby asked him to come over that they didn’t care she was turned. They just hated seeing her suffer. And this was the best he could do to prevent it happening. Once he left, the team practically spent an eternity in silence before someone finally spoke up. “I… Want you to turn me, as well.” Blake requested, sounding almost selfish. “Blake…?” Yang responded, her voice tinged with anger and confusion. “Turn me. I-if you don’t, you’ll lose all of us. I can’t let that happen!” The faunus pulled the neck of her top down, exposing bare flesh and flinching. Even as the tears fell, no one moved to stop her. She was right. “I can’t.” “You can. I need you to.” Her teammate tensed up as she closed the remaining distance on the sofa, grabbing the scared girl’s hands. “I’m not watching this. Come on, Ruby.” Qrow piped up again, a mixture of resignation and understanding to his words. Ruby was already following him out of the door when Weiss stopped them leaving. “How can you both just let this happen? You’re letting another of your best friends turn into a monster!?” Tears welled in the snow queen’s eyes as she tried desperately to convince the others. “Weiss, she’s made her choice. And she has a point. Uncle Qrow, is there anything we can do to help them?” Ruby asked, still wanting to help. “Be there for them once she’s changed completely. Hell, maybe you’ll be even better at hunting them now.” He flashed an awkward smile, trying to make the best of a bad situation as he ushered the pair out.

“You know this will hurt.” Yang explained, solemnly. “If I thought it was easy, I’d have told the others to stay.” Blake’s dark sarcasm still extracted a chuckle from her partner. “I love you.” The blonde, taken aback by the confession, briefly relented before realising. That was exactly why Blake wanted to join her. She thought she’d be able to come to terms with it, eventually. Her love could be twisted into a fierce desire to protect in her mind, given time. Like it wouldn’t kill her every day when she was finally gone. In some weird, crazy, fucked up way, she wanted to do this too. Was it the right choice? Did that question even matter? The answer, of course, was no, to both. When you’re staring at eternity, the best shot you get at staying sane is to have someone right there with you. Blake’s top joined her jacket on the floor, grabbing Yang’s icy shoulder and turning her attention away from the window, back onto the faunus. It didn’t hurt. Not really. Even as the taller girl’s fingers scraped and clawed into her back. Then the numbness started stretching from her hands and feet. Her arms wrapped tightly around the blonde’s frame, pulling her in, ignorant to the shakes and twitches. Then nothing. It felt like she wasn’t going to turn. Yang backed away, tearful, placing the arm of the record player down before extending her own towards Blake. And oh boy did they dance. Yang took the lead, gracefully spinning and throwing her partner as the song built to its first crescendo. The excitement dulled the burning sensation that crept from her neck, something Yang never had the luxury of doing, their eyes locked at all times. In one blink, her eyes changed colour to match her partner’s. Feeling drained, the pair were reduced to slow dancing as the transition raced through her body. Yang could feel the heat disappearing from her hands, but save for her eyes, you couldn’t have convinced anyone she was different. Smiling, laughing, even. A pair of crazy girls, deciding to spend forever together. Inseparable. “See you on the other side, Belladonna.” To Blake, the voice was faint, but distinctly affectionate.

She gasped, bolt upright, a few hours later. The rest of her team had returned, and she was most definitely dead, if her pulse was anything to go by. Yang pressed a mug of Qrow’s tincture into her hands before sitting behind her torso with her own, letting the new vampire lean backwards onto her as she drank. The holy water gave it a burn, almost like vodka, but the blood was tasteless. “It’s animal blood, Qrow said it won’t taste like the human stuff does to you guys.” Ruby chimed in, picking up on Blake’s reaction. Were it not for the couple drinking something so strange, you’d be forgiven for thinking nothing had changed. Reaching behind her, the faunus grabbed Yang’s free hand and lay back down onto her lap, still not used to the eerie motionlessness of her own body. “Are we still-?” Blake started, slightly dreading the answer. “We’re still a hunting team. We just have two extra-super-powered members now.” Weiss joked, in a better mood than earlier. Before they could settle in for the night, a distressed knock drew their attention to the door, an exasperated voice calling from outside. “W-w-w-we f-found a c-c-camp of them!” The stranger yelled, with the girls leaping to action. Ruby pulled a large sniper rifle off the wall and loaded a magazine of silver bullets, the rifle itself modified with a large scythe blade by the barrel. Weiss drew a silver sabre from a scabbard on her belt, with Blake producing a silver katana, the base of the blade wrapped with cloth to prevent her touching it. Yang strapped a set of elaborate, miniature trebuchets onto her wrists, loading them with wooden stakes that jutted out past her fists. “Let’s go, Team RWBY!”

Insert cheesy 90s Buffy-style intro here

#rwby #bumbleby #bmblb #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #qrow branwen #writeroseisendgame #i was tempted to put a twilight sex scene #not gonna lie

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brothersapart · 5 years

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Ok weird question here, if the boys (Sam, Dean, Jacob, and Bowman) were made to live through and help each other face their worst fear, what would each fear be and how would the others react/help (this would be the absolute worst fear beyond what was already experienced in Jacob in Wonderland.) I was rewatching the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where they had to experience everyone’s worst nightmare, but nothing that happened was permanent at the end of the day and it made me curious.

Sam’s worst fear: Clowns

No matter what size Sam is, his honest-to-God worst fear will always be CLOWNS. He freezes up when he sees them, gets stuck in his head, and certainly isn’t going to like them anymore when he’s only a few inches tall!

(Hint: Do not take Sam to see the new IT movie)

Dean might screw up and tease Sam about it before realizing how serious it still bothers him. Sam might not even come out of the pocket he’s in if they’re around clowns or clown-like objects.

Dean’s worst fear: Heights

Unlike Sam, Dean is often forced to confront his fear of heights head-on when he’s cursed. He’s only 3.8 inches tall, everything is high! Including his friends/brother!

Dangling him is a terrible way to tease him, he’ll absolutely freak out and panic, and until he’s adjusted to spending time around giants, he’s leery of how high up a shoulder perch is. Don’t be surprised if you find him plastered to someone’s neck or completely hidden in a collar so he can’t look out. Pockets are welcome.

Bowman’s worst fear: Losing his wings

Bowman’s wings are his pride and joy. He’s worked so hard to build his skill and talent with flying, and it’s his ultimate catharsis. There’s almost no bad feeling that can’t be cured by going for a flight. If he lost that, he’d be stuck on the ground, looking up and remembering what he used to have. He’s fussy and meticulous about wing care so this doesn’t happen.

Jacob’s worst fear: Forgetting his dad

Jacob is aware that time is healing his grief, and he’s moved on and become the zen guy he is today after the death of his father (he was 8 at the time). However, he wants to keep honoring the man he was, and remembering him is part of that. Jacob is terrified of losing those memories, either by them becoming to hazy over time or by losing sight of himself. His dad inspired much of his current personality.

#anonymous #ask #fear of heights #fear #greatest fear #fear of clowns #heights #clowns #sam winchester #dean winchester #jacob andris #bowman leafwing #losing his wings #forgetting his dad

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forestwater87 · 6 years

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Gwenvid Week Day 5

Day 5: Community Appreciation / Favorite AU

To celebrate the amazing Gwenvid community, I took the really fascinating Ghoul AU that @color-theorist (or @color-theorist-art ) created, which has no explicit Gwenvid as of yet, and then somehow accidentally created several pages of momgwen with very little Gwenvid in it. Oops. And probably fucked up the lore. Double oops. Oh well, I hope y’all have fun anyway! :)

It wasn’t anything like Buffy, was the first thing Gwen realized about fighting monsters.

For one thing, it was a lot less fighting -- she wasn’t exactly built for dealing out pain -- and a lot more researching. And not in weathered tomes blanketed with a thick layer of dust with crinkled pages full of secrets. Sure, there was some of that, but ghouls in particular seemed to be a relatively new phenomenon, or were just so uninteresting to the ancients that they didn’t bother writing about them. Mostly it involved trawling internet forums and trying to arrange interviews with the leads who seemed the most promising. Which in itself required a great deal of convincing paranoid heroin addicts that she was neither a ghoul intent on devouring their flesh or a member of the government who would haul them off to Super Guantanamo. All that work, only to have her work dismissed by every publisher she’d recommended it to, and a pointed recommendation by the History Department chair that it would be best for her career at Sleepy Peak Community College if she found another subject to focus her studies on.

“‘It’s really all about the branding,’” she mimicked quietly, shifting her weight in a futile attempt to get comfortable. ”’Just call it “folklore.”’ That’s academically dis-fucking-honest, Mr. Bishop.” Gwen grabbed her bag from where it was dangling off the arm of a marble angel and hauled out a binder and a flashlight. “I’m the only professor under thirty who hasn’t gotten the fuck out of here after three months, Mr. Bishop. This shitty school wouldn’t even have a goddamn newspaper if it wasn’t for me, Mr. Bishop. Fuck, this is cold,” she muttered, glaring down at the polished granite with distaste before sliding down onto the grass, leaning back against the tombstone she’d just climbed off of. “I’m doing important work, here.”

Gwen opened the binder, eyeing the hand-drawn map of the Long Sleep Cemetery and tracing the scraggly line of bright red X’s that marked out fourteen ravaged graves, then flipping to a map of the entire city, which was covered in yellow dates around the church, hospital, and veterinary clinic. She glanced from these to the mausoleum she was staking out, like the ghoul would just appear there if she looked hard enough.

“Come on, asshole,” she said, flopping back against the tombstone and turning off the flashlight. “I know I did this right, so just show up where you’re supposed to.”

It was crazy, she knew all that. Knew her meticulous tracking of local robberies and vandalism looked from the outside like the scribblings of a madwoman fraying her last nerve. It was why she took so much care in repackaging every piece of evidence into a series of respectable, ponderous, academic -- boring, if she was being perfectly honest with herself -- books.

A series of respectable, academic, unpublished books.

Because this was all crazy. Believing in undead monsters that needed to consume the living (or recently-dead) was crazy. Objectively, she was probably rather crazy.

The thing was, she was right.

She just had to find a way to prove it.

“You’re not good at this, are you?”

Gwen jumped at the voice and whipped around, brandishing her flashlight in one hand and her binder in the other -- before she overbalanced and had to drop both, catching herself before she fell flat on her back in the dew-drenched grass. “Whaatherfucke --”

So. Not much like Buffy at all.

Her attacker was thin, stretched out and lanky like a very short Slenderman. As he stepped around the gravestone and moved towards her, his eyes reflected the light from a nearby streetlamp like a cat’s, gleaming out from underneath the dark hoodie that obscured most of his features.

Human eyes don’t glow like that.

She snatched up her flashlight and flicked it back on; she tried not to shine it in his face, but he flinched away from it anyway, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. The light revealed a narrow brown face that was sickly yellow underneath the eyes and nearly gray in the hollows of his cheekbones. “Kids aren’t supposed to be out after ten pm,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She took in the teenager’s slouchy grace, the way he walked as though every movement was both naturally easy and indescribably exhausting.

“No one’s supposed to be in the graveyard after it closes, but that didn’t stop you,” he replied, slumping against the marble angel and watching her with those unnerving catlike eyes.

She’d found her ghoul.

Gwen drew herself up, standing so she could look down at him. “I have permission,” she lied. “I’m conducting research on the series of grave-robbings in the last few wee --”

“My dad’s a cop with really shitty password protection. You don’t have permission for shit.” He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re one of those nuts who wants to hunt vampires.”

“Ghouls aren’t vampires,” she corrected before she could stop herself, the pedantic need to be right temporarily overpowering her common sense. “Blood is evidently not an essential component of their diet, and -- you know what, this is a stupid conversation and I’m not having it.” She settled back against her tombstone and turned her gaze to the mausoleum her ghoul was supposed to be raiding instead of making snide comments about her profession. “Go get your dead person snack.”

The kid jolted, and she watched his look of horror out of the corner of her eye. “How the fuck --” He shook his head, a shock of floppy black hair escaping the hoodie and falling over one of his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She pulled her binder back into her lap with a small grunt of effort. Christ, this thing was getting heavy. “Whoever’s been raiding the cemetery’s been really smart about it,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “Always hits it just as the attention is beginning to die down -- pardon the pun -- and always far enough from the others that the area is totally isolated. But they do it without making it look like a pattern.” She glanced up at him, a little gratified to see him leaning over her map curiously. So this was what validation felt like! “I’d been wondering how they knew when to sneak back in here, but . . . having a dad in the police force might do it, if the cop was dumb enough.” She turned to another section of her notes, an alphabetical list of everyone in the SPPD. “I knew I should’ve paid more attention to their families,” she mumbled, flipping through the officers. “Which of you is the idiot with an undead son?”

“Hey, fuck you!” he snapped, stepping away from the binder and back to the marble angel. “You can’t just go around calling people monsters because they’re wandering around a graveyard. Hell, that makes you sound just as much like one of those things as me.”

Gwen ticked off on her fingers without looking up from the police directory: “Alarmingly thin, glowing eyes, a bit of a nasty undead pallor -- bet people are constantly asking if you’re sick --”

“Again, fuck you.”

“-- and a tricky-but-predictable pattern of raiding cemeteries, morgues, and . . . have you been eating dead animals?” She glanced up at him then with a frown. “I didn’t know ghouls could do that.”

“They can’t,” he muttered, kicking at the grass, “but it was worth a shot.”

She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. This was her first legitimate monster sighting! She wasn’t crazy! “It’s all circumstantial, of course. You never really know if you’ve got a ghoul or just someone with, like, lupus. But the cat-eye thing was a big tip off. Also, you know, hanging out in the cemetery when no one in their right minds would go anywhere near the place.” He looked at her for a long moment, and she cringed. “Yes, fine, I heard it.”

“So you’re like an expert in useless information no one gives a shit about, huh?”

She thought about getting offended, but he was kind of right. At least, a boatload of publishers would agree with him. “Yeah . . .”

He looked back over at the mausoleum thoughtfully, and she couldn’t help but be curious. “Does it taste good when it’s been dead for a while?” she asked. She was sorely tempted to grab her pencil and notebook, but that might scare the kid off. “I’ve read it’s not supposed to be as . . .” Nutritious just felt gross, in this context, so she let the sentence trail off.

He shrugged. “A little bland, but I kinda like it better. Got this weird kind of . . . cheesy aftertaste? Not like I’ve had cheese since I was a kid, but like that really smelly stuff rich people put on everything.”

“That’s pretty disgusting.” She couldn’t quite keep the note of appreciation out of her voice. (She’d always been a sucker for gory movies.) “So what’s with the change?”

“What’re you talking about?”

That was in her other binder. Gwen rustled through her backpack until she found the right one and opened it up to a spread of newspaper clippings. “All the killings. Two this week, three in the last two months. I haven’t put a map together yet --” and god, she already felt tired thinking about it, “-- but they don’t seem to have any sort of pattern. I figure it can’t be you because, well, all my research suggests that if you were eating fresh kills you’d be a lot more . . .” She gestured vaguely at him. “Alive-looking.”

He bared his teeth, and if they were sharper-looking than normal she was almost positive that was just her imagination. “You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”

She didn’t, but that was beside the point. “So do you know who’s doing this?” she asked, scrambling to her knees and finally giving in to the urge to grab her pen. “Can you tell me? I interned as a police sketch artist, so even if you just describe them I bet I could --”

“You expect me to narc?”

“They’re killing people!”

“Eh, I --”

“Max?”

They were both blinded; squinting past the flashlight, Gwen could barely make out a male figure. The newcomer lowered the light, stepping forward. His eyebrows drew together as he took in the scene: a kid lounging on a tombstone, having a conversation with a woman kneeling in the damp grass surrounded by open books and binders. “What are you doing out here? You know it’s past curfew!”

The ghoul -- Max, it seemed -- rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s not like you’re gonna arrest me. I just saw this weird lady sneaking into the graveyard and wanted to see what she was doing.”

As surreptitiously as she could, Gwen glanced down at the list of police officers in her lap, comparing the smiling photos to the grim-faced man shaking his head at Max. Officer David E. Greenwood. On the force for about ten years. According to some gossip she’d scribbled in the margin, he’d turned down the opportunity to become a detective a few years ago, holding onto his lower-paying desk job for the sake of his --

His son.

“Miss?” Greenwood waved the flashlight, dragging her attention back to the conversation. “I’m going to need to ask you to leave the --”

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled, shoving her work back into her bag. “You know, I should get a special pass or something for doing research,” she said, more to herself than to the officer.

He cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like a big puppy wearing a police badge. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t do anything like that, but I’d be very interested in learning what you’re researching!” He frowned. “Actually, you look familiar . . .”

“I used to be the department intern,” she said with a shrug. She was a little older than Greenwood, so it wasn’t like he’d have been working there to remember --

“Oh, Gwen! Yes, of course I’ve heard all about you!” He took a step forward, like he was about to wrap her up in a hug, before his smile dimmed a bit and he coughed lightly into his fist. “Mr. Campbell speaks very highly of you! He’s been saying he wishes more people would be willing to work for no money, but I’m sure he just meant that you did such a fantastic job! You work at the college now, right? You know, I’ve been meaning to take some classes but I just haven’t had the time --”

“Dad,” Max interrupted, “it’s cold as fuck. Can we just go?”

“Right! Sorry, Max.” He shot his son -- though they really looked nothing alike -- an apologetic grin before turning the smile toward her. “If you’ll just follow me, ma’am. Goodness, isn’t it lovely out here at night? Sometimes I wish . . .”

When they were outside, Max broke through Greenwood’s stream of pleasantries. “Hey, can I talk to her for a second before we go?” When they both shot him a confused, surprised look, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, hunching his shoulders defensively. “What? We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Greenwood hummed thoughtfully, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gwen.” He shook her hand enthusiastically.

“You too, officer.”

“Please, call me David!” He winked, then strolled along the outer cemetery wall until he was well out of earshot, his hands clasped behind his back like a military at-ease. Max scuffed his shoe along the asphalt; Gwen had dealt with enough students to know not to push him, so she watched the clouds slide like molasses along the sky and waited.

“You know a lot about this stuff, huh? Like, it’s useless, but you still have a lot of research.” She nodded, watching curiosity wage war with misanthropy across his face. Finally he blurted out, “So can I read some of it sometime? I mean, it’s probably mostly bullshit, but . . .”

She’d given up on carrying copies of her books around with her, on the off chance that someone might be interested if it came up in conversation. “I’m usually on campus at noon,” she said. “Stop by my office. I’ve got a couple things you could borrow.” She fought to keep the eagerness out of her voice, but the thought of her self-bound books actually being read by someone was way too exciting.

Even if that someone was a moody undead kid with the most improbable home life she’d ever heard of.

He nodded, a little awkwardly, and started to walk away before she put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you gonna be all right without eating?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t the first time.”

Gwen hesitated. It could get so so fired, but . . . “Listen, I work some nights at the hospital morgue. Just like, processing bodies and stuff.”

“I thought you were a professor.”

She sighed. “Adjunct,” she admitted. “Only part time. Anyway, I can’t always . . . like obviously we’d have to be really careful, and there’s no real good way to . . . but if there’s actual murderous ghouls around you probably shouldn’t be so hungry they’ll kick your ass or something --”

“How did you make offering help come out so insulting?” Max sounded impressed. He glanced over his shoulder at David, then raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “We’ll work something out, yeah. Beats digging up coffins all night.”

David meandered back in their direction. “Would you like to be walked home, Miss Gwen? It’s not safe to be out alone at this time of night.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure.”

She knew how dangerous it was. Had written hundreds of pages on the subject, in fact.

But it was nice, for the first time in her life, to feel like she’d actually accomplished something useful.

“Dad wants you to come over for dinner again.”

Gwen jumped; Max had an infuriating tendency to just appear in doorways without a sound, usually when she was deep in concentration doing something else. She thought maybe he enjoyed scaring her. “I have class tonight,” she said, taking the book he held out, “but tell him thanks.”

Max slouched into the chair on the other side of her desk, watching her dig through her books for the next one in the series. Over the past few weeks he’d been going through her research, and while his habit of writing corrections or commentary in the margins -- with pen, no less! -- was unbelievably annoying, she was making more progress in two months than she had in years. “Second time this week,” he observed.

It took her a second to realize what he was saying. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I appreciate it. Seriously, make sure you thank him for me.” Dinners with Max and David were a little awkward, mostly because only David seemed to really want to be there, but it certainly beat microwave dinners in front of her computer.

“I think he likes you.”

She made a dismissive noise. “He likes everyone,” she said. In fact, she’d made it a personal goal to hear him say something unkind about somebody. It was unsuccessful so far, but she had faith. She handed him the next book, watching him turn it over in his hands appraisingly with something almost like nervousness. It was one thing to have someone read your life’s work -- it was quite another when the person reading your work was also literally the subject of it.

“So you’re gonna stop by after class, right?”

“I -- no?” Sure, sometimes Gwen did, if she’d forgotten to give Max something or if David’s texts had seemed especially plaintive; she got the sense that his life wasn’t as sunshine-and-rainbows as he tried to make it seem, and watching TV or sitting out on the porch after Max had disappeared into his room wasn’t much of a sacrifice. But it wasn’t a habit or anything. “Maybe I have shit to do.”

He snorted. “No you don’t.”

She didn’t, but she didn’t need to be reminded of the life she didn’t have by an obnoxious kid who literally had no life.

When she didn’t respond he stood up, tucking her book under his arm. “So I’ll tell Dad you’ll be by after class. And I’m gonna be at Neil’s tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Ugh, don’t make me say it. It’s fucking gross.”

Gwen watched Max lope out of her office, wondering if he was aware that he’d just told her his father was lonely. And that it worried him.

“For fuck’s sake, just go out already!”

Her pen jerked a scraggly line across the paper, jagged and uneven like the sudden spike in her heart rate. “Why can’t you knock, you shitty excuse for a Halloween monster?” she growled, shoving her notebook aside and glaring up at him.

He set her book on her desk with surprising gentleness for someone who reportedly didn’t care about anything. “First, Dad is so goddamn annoying, and if I have to hear him talk about how ‘sweet that Miss Gwen is, don’t you think so, Max?’ one more time I’m gonna eat him. Second, it’d probably be easier to sneak me food if you were dating, since it’d be less weird for me to hang out with my stepmom.”

“I’m not going to ask David out so it’s easier for you to feed,” she said, bristling at “stepmom.”

“No, you’re gonna do it because you keep staring at him like a creep whenever you think he’s not looking. That’s third, by the way,” he continued, holding up three fingers. “The only thing more annoying than him being all moony and stupid is you being all moony and stupid.”

“That . . .” is not true was on the tip of her tongue, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. The problem was, she’d gotten accustomed to spending more evenings a week at the Greenwoods’ house than her own, and had started to find it more comforting. Which didn’t mean that she was interested in David, of course, but she’d been . . . surprised, by him.

By his genuine interest in her, and his support of her research even though it clearly made him uneasy. (Which was fair; “hey I think those murders you’re investigating are undead monsters” was a pretty uncomfortable thing to talk about, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to listen.)

By how he remembered stupid little things, like her favorite foods, and how even when he was thoughtless and absent-minded it never seemed to piss her off the way it should.

By his horrible sense of humor and his worse taste in TV shows. By how his eyelashes were longer than hers, and framed his eyes so prettily. By the freckles she could only see when they were sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, or when he pulled her in for a goodnight hug. By --

Well, fuck.

“Everyone I know is a fucking idiot,” Max groaned, tugging her out of her heart-attack-inciting epiphany. He ran his hands through his hair -- glossy and sleek because he’d eaten last night; everything about him was glowing and lively compared to usual, making him look almost human -- and stood. “Don’t even bother getting me the next book. You can drop it off with Dad tonight.”

“But he didn’t invite me to dinn --” She cut herself off at the look of pure exasperation he gave her, one that implied he couldn’t even deign that with a response.

“Fucking idiots,” he muttered, slipping out of her office.

“Okay, I know I basically made this happen because you’re both too dumb to function, but I’m hating every second of this. I take it all back.”

David practically leapt out of Gwen’s chair, almost knocking her out of his lap and face-first into a concussion courtesy of the corner of her desk. “M-Max! What are you doing here?!”

She just sighed, adjusting her position so she wasn’t in danger of falling and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “He does this.”

“I’m a student, Dad. I belong here.” He held up the binder -- Gwen’s most recent book in the making -- with a sharp, sarcastic grin. He was looking a little gray and drawn, and she made a mental note to grab him some intestines or something that wouldn’t be missed at work that night. When he was looking sick like this, his inhumanness stood out in stark relief, like the crisp lines of his teeth that were too big and too pointy for his supposedly-human mouth.

“In high school! Why aren’t you in class?”

He shrugged. “Lunch break,” he said. Gwen and David exchanged a look, because neither of them knew if that was true. It’d been a while since either of them had been students, after all. Dropping the binder on Gwen’s desk, he retreated to the door like he was afraid to coming too close to them. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Um . . . lunch break,” David replied weakly, his face flushing.

Gwen picked up a stress ball and lightly tossed it at Max’s head. “Get out of here, you little shit.”

“I hate you both. See you at dinner,” he said casually, ducking out of the office and letting the door bang shut behind him.

David sighed, shaking his head. “Do you think he looks sick, Gwen? I’m worried he’s coming down with something.”

She winced. “Probably a 24-hour bug. Bet he’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said, ducking her face into the crook of his neck and kissing behind his ear. Sometimes she couldn’t fathom how someone who knew about ghouls could miss the fact that his own son was one.

But then again, David wasn’t an academic, and he certainly wasn’t trained in this kind of thing. And he had a tendency to ignore red flags when it came to people he cared about.

It was one of the things she loved most about him.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2018 #cc gwen #cc max #dadvid #momgwen #christ this is awful #and that ending is very half assed bc I got worn out #but uhhhh #sorry ct #you deserve better #but have this instead

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

2018 fic roundup

Buffyverse

well tell her that I miss our little talks So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again) Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened

MCU

But A Walking Shadow Out of the Frying Pan Hand in Hand, Side by Side to walk to where you are sleeping To The Neighborhood Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? By Those Who Show Up Stitch Together In Spirit of the Season Childhood Friends

Veronica Mars

not just about being new (it’s about a change)

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?:

Still not predicting, but probably around the predictable amount? I've gotten a little longer, I think, but I'm writing fewer stories overall, and I've really fallen into a few specific fandom categories - haven't added a new one in a while.

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?:

Dick/OC. Dick/anyone was a surprise. I'm generally frustrated and uninterested in Dick, so taking him on as a main character - when typically he's been a side role in my fic at best - is unexpected. I was just really drawn to the prompt.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

I'm really proud of To The Neighborhood. I like the POV, I think the character flowed well, it has a particular tone throughout, and everything is built using small details without info dumps. And I'm always a big fan of domesticity too - sweet, settled life is always a joy for me to write!

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

It's weird to say at this point, but I think I've been playing around with AUs a little too much. Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) and Hand in Hand, Side by Side are really prime examples of this: they aren't just timeline changes or ways of placing the characters in similar roles in non supernatural settings, they are way, way big and entire AUs. I really like them conceptually - ya girl loves a good (or not good!) romcom - but they are really quite out of the ordinary. I guess I learned that I kinda don't care - I wrote it because I liked it, and I had fun with it!

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Nah. I finished my Woman Borne sequel, which was the goal I had set at the beginning of last year, and I'm probably just going to resign my work on my too ambitious Chase/Cameron fic, so I'm good.

6. From my past year of writing, what was…

Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe:

But A Walking Shadow. I'm not afraid to say how sad I am about this. I'm really, intensely proud of this story: the writing is good, the characters are good, it's lengthy (for me), it's chapter fic, it's part of a universe I've already worked on, there's action instead of just Emotional Talking - it felt like I did everything right, and it still didn't make a difference.

Most Fun:

Hand in Hand, Side by Side probably - I like Steve/Peggy and a Virtue/Moir AU for them was a blast to write. But I actually had a lot of fun with a bunch of them!

Most Disappointing:

By Those Who Show Up is a little too liberal wonky - too much political talk, not quite enough emotional buildup. To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened is also a little exhausting and repetitive in concept and would have probably been better if there were more substance between the little stories, but I really like the title, so that helps it out.

Most Sexy:

Steve and Peggy end up in a bed and kiss there in Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? so ha ha ha, that is extremely sexy!

Hardest to Write:

They kinda ended up in either the "it took four days from beginning to final edit" category, or the "I'm afraid I might just be writing this for the next several years" one this time around. I took a lot of care with But A Walking Shadow, and I stopped writing Childhood Friends for a while to work on other stuff and there was a point where I couldn't make In Spirit of the Season not incredibly depressing and a piece of Peggy character assassination, but most of my Buffy fics were like this (well tell her that I miss our little talks was the exception - that's why it's listed as posted like three weeks before the rest of them).

Most Unintentionally Telling:

As I was writing In Spirit of the Season, I literally said aloud, "I think I might have something weird going on internally with motherhood."

Choice Lines:

From But A Walking Shadow:

The force of her fingers, the directness of her gaze: for a moment he fears that she is about to kiss his mouth with the desperate confidence he’d felt before he’d boarded Schmidt’s plane. But instead, she leans up and presses her lips beneath his ear. He shivers; he always does, there, and she knows that.

He just can’t think of the noise and the flames, the collapse, when his mind and heart and guts weigh so human inside him.

The anger is worn and so tired inside of him.

"I don’t want to kill you,” says the man, pushing the words out. The soldier's arm, built to last, built to kill, shakes at the thought that he will die gasping. “And I don’t want to die. And I can’t bring you to meet my family like this.” His frame trembles. His eyes are magnified, wide as the stars.

There is such future and fragility in yet.

He remembers the way she fit in two hands the first time he held her, how she sometimes trips downstairs and curls up sleepily in his lap when he comes back from a run early in the morning. He loves her so much. Finally, he hugs her. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he says, and lets her go.

From to walk to where you are sleeping:

“Enough is enough,” she tells herself most mornings, when she wakes up gritty-eyed and already teary from dreaming. “Enough is enough,” when she wants to tell Steve about her day, when she spots hair like his from the corner of her eye, when she has another lonely cup of tea at her table, when she wants just a bit of his optimism to drive her onward. “It was two years out of more than twenty, it is time to be done with mourning, enough is enough.” And then one night she opens her eyes into the darkness of her bedroom and tells herself, “Enough.”

He is here, he is here: what fragile and disturbing joy.

She watched so many good people die - not just Steve, not just her brother, but the boys who came from her home village, and the sweet air force pilot she’d kissed on the New Year of 1940, and the lady who’d sold ice cream through the Blitz and been suffocated by an improperly constructed Anderson shelter - and perhaps she doesn’t have to turn her grief out of doors and lock herself up.

From To The Neighborhood:

For a moment, she regrets not having one of those emergency call buttons that her daughter Joan (Dr. Oglethorpe hasn’t been allowed to call her Joanie in years) recommends when she makes her monthly call from Columbus, or at least a cellular phone.

From Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling?:

Steve rests his hands on her wrists, so gentle, and she wants to cry. “Peg,” he says quietly, “can you maybe track me down a pair of pants? I know my legs aren’t really working yet, but I’ve had enough of showing off in a hospital gown for one lifetime.”

From By Those Who Show Up:

“Hell yeah,” says Bucky. “I was over there ten years and only lost an arm. Six months of doing this with you and I’ve basically lost my life.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinning up top, Steve, I swear to God.”

From well tell her that I miss our little talks:

(Note to self: start organizing things on the kitchen calendar. Note to self: get a kitchen calendar.)

There's basically cartoony whistling sound, like her optimism is Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff.

She hugged a pillow against her chest. She’d sign him up for a couple of community college mailing lists; maybe sitting in the back of some dense philosophy class would remind him why college wasn’t for everyone, or at least distract him. Her luck: he’d get all nerdy enthusi-Angel and just double down on the college fun talk. She really missed him. “Anyway,” she recalled herself. “I’m thinking maybe going all in on the spick and span could have something to do with you turning the dial up to Angel on the Broodometer.”

"....You’re allowed to think that you’re worth more than him, even if he was the one with the pulse.”

From So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again):

Also, Angel has to be worried about being ‘busted, and not just in the Dust way.

How glad she is for him, knowing what he’s been through, knowing for herself how frightening it is to dangle unsupported and exhaust yourself hoping for a loving hand.

When Willow is like this, firm steps and a commanding voice, closed eyes as she puts a hand on the last sorcerer's shoulder, it’s hard for Buffy to hold in her mind Willow shy and sweet at sixteen. But then Will nods to Buffy, and without a thought, Buffy fells the robed woman. They’ve both changed. Neither of them will ever be sixteen again.

From Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?):

“No. I’m counting on you to do the right thing for everyone, even if it might happen to include you.”

From To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened:

“He was younger than I am now, and older than you would want to be.”

From Childhood Friends:

Peggy, who had spent the afternoon she received the letter holding the hand of a boy - and he had been a boy - as he screamed and screamed toward death, had delayed replying, as she had not been able to summon a response to such grievances for nearly a week.

That she had spent her childhood at this very house with her dresses in a hopeless muddle and her knees insistently grass-stained, and that Steve had recently seen her in both a wrinkled nurse’s uniform after a night shift and indifferent mourning crepe below a tear-stained face, made her only more determined to put her best foot forward in this encounter.

...and Peggy concentrated on the feeling of his hand in hers, on the heat of him through his jacket, and felt despair and grave hope.

But her husband, who remembered a similar expression on his own mother’s face when he had professed his intention to marry Amanda, upon hearing whose surname even Charles II would have replied “Whom?” pulled her toward himself once more and said only, “Let them dance.”

#the only thing i still post on livejournal #my fic reflections for the year

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