#and then for branch... he has a point but also. branch. buddy. you put everything aside to go on an adventure in wt

[razzle-zazzle]

6561 Words; Between AU, TBT, JD's arrival

AO3 ver

“All right, Rhonda, we’re here.”

John Dory stepped away from the wheel as his armadillo-bus and main companion came to a stop at the edge of what he really hoped was the main settlement of the Pop Trolls. With a grunt, John Dory opened the door and hopped out, giving Rhonda’s side a small pat before heading towards where the pods were thickest.

It had taken him weeks to properly track this place down, and even longer to actually work up the courage to visit. If it wasn’t for Floyd’s letter, John Dory probably would have kept traveling for years, only ever thinking about Pop Village—or was it Trollstopia?—as a place on his map he could visit someday.

But now John Dory was here on a mission. He had a brother to save, and to do that, he’d need to track down all the rest of his brothers. Might as well start with the easiest—all he had from Spruce were unmarked postcards, he’d heard nothing from Clay at all, and Floyd was the brother in need of rescuing. Which left Bitty B, who up until a few months ago John Dory had been pretty sure was dead—but now wasn’t the time to think about that. John Dory had a baby brother to find.

As he made his way past pods and Trolls, tail nervously lashing behind him, John Dory took in the sights and sounds of a place that was all too familiar and all too alien all at once. It brought him back to his days in the tree, even though the community here was much more spread out. And it wasn’t just pods—John Dory could see all kinds of Trolls walking about, could see Country housing and Funk spaceships and even lights coming from within the larger bodies of water scattered about. And ooo, there were even Rock and Classical! Not exactly John Dory’s style, as a Pop Troll through and through, but it wasn’t as unsettling to see as John Dory had feared.

John Dory came to a stop before a large mushroom serving as a central pavilion, looking around. How in the world was he going to find Bitty B from here? He supposed he could ask around, use his natural charms to get the answers he needed, but… there were so many Trolls, all around, so much color and life and music going on that John Dory wanted to retreat back to the calm of Rhonda.

John Dory shook his head, dispelling his anxieties. What was he thinking? He had this in the bag! He used to be the leader of Brozone, of course he could handle a crowd.

With a laugh, John Dory launched himself up onto the mushroom, opening his mouth to start calling out for his brother—

“Oh, you’re new!” Pink filled his vision, darting in and out of his line of sight as an excited blur circled around and looked him over. “I’ve never seen you before, which is weird because I thought I knew everybody who lived here! Which means you must be new which means we haven’t gotten to know each other yet which means we get to get to know each other and become friends if you’re okay with that and oh my hair I forgot to ask your name!” None of the words were registering, coming out so fast that they all blurred together into an aural sludge that went right in one ear and out the other.

John Dory reflexively stepped back from the deluge of sheer energy coming off of what resolved itself to be a Troll, bright pink and bouncing excitedly. Her tail was whipping back and forth with a frenetic energy as she bounced in place, holding out her paw.

“I’m Poppy!” Poppy introduced herself. “And you are?” There was something so bright in her eyes, an energy that John Dory could only remember seeing in the happiest of Pop Trolls. Wow, he really had been on his own for a while, hadn’t he?

John Dory held out his paw to return the pawshake, but the moment he opened his mouth Poppy squealed again as recognition hit her, her eyes alight with vicious glee.

“Oh! My! HAIR! You’re from—you’re from BROZONE!” Poppy squealed again, clasping her paws together in excitement. “Oooo, but which one?” She pondered, leaning in to examine John Dory more closely. “No, don’t tell me! I wanna guess!” She hummed contemplatively, walking a slow circle around John Dory.

“You’re not the Heartthrob,” Poppy commented, the words hitting harder than John Dory was expecting. He could be a heartthrob! “The Fun Boy? No, you seem kinda uptight…”

“Weird thing to say about someone you just met,” John Dory commented, but Poppy continued to theorize.

“Definitely not the Sensitive One…” Poppy’s face lit up, “Oh, I know!” She cheered, certainty in her voice. “You’re John Dory!”

John Dory nodded. “The Leader—”

“The Old One!” Poppy finished, hopping up and down in place. Her paws were clasped together in excitement. “So what brings you to Trollstopia?”

John Dory’s tail was flat against the floor. Sure, he was in his forties, but barely! He wasn’t old! He still had so many decades left in him! He was in his prime!

“I’m here to find my brothers.” He said. “It’s…” Did he want to confide in Poppy about Floyd’s imprisonment? She certainly felt trustworthy, but this was more of a family issue.

“You brothers… the rest of Brozone?!” Poppy lit up, grabbing John Dory’s paw in her own to drag him from the mushroom pavilion. “Well, you’re asking the right Troll! I know everyone here!” She ran along, leaving John Dory little choice but to be dragged in her wake.

“Wait.” She came to an abrupt halt, “I don’t…” Her demeanor turned sheepish as she turned back to John Dory. “I don’t know anyone by the names of Spruce, Clay, Floyd, or Bitty B.” She admitted.

Well, that was a bust. John Dory shrugged. “‘S okay.” He nodded, stretching his arms up above his head. “I already know that Spruce isn’t here, and I know where Floyd is.” Something about Poppy’s words hit him, and he frowned. “You said Bitty B.” He pointed out. “But… would you happen to know a Troll who goes by Branch?” They had never used Bitty B’s full name in promotional material—he was just a baby, after all. It was safer that way.

“Branch…” Poppy’s face lit up with recognition. “I do!” She leapt up, “He never told me he had other brothers!” She gasped, “HE NEVER TOLD ME HE WAS IN BROZONE! Ohhh, I can’t believe this!” She ran in a tiny circle, tail waving wildly as she gestured with her paws.

“So you know where I can find him?” Oh, thank Troll. Now all John Dory needed was to find Bitty B’s pod, say hello to Grandma, and then they’d set out to find the rest. Easy.

Poppy nodded. “Yep!” She grabbed John Dory’s paw again. “It’s a few days’ travel by critterbug, though. Or just one day if I can get a caterbus…” Her tail flicked as she considered the options. John Dory swore he even heard her mutter about wormholes at one point.

“That’s… far.” John Dory frowned. He thought Bitty B would be living with the rest of the Pop Trolls, here in Trollstopia, not… wherever he was.

“I know the way, though.” Poppy assured him. “Just give me a little bit to get some things in order, and I can get you there!” Her tail curled behind her as she turned—

John Dory grabbed Poppy’s tail just below the hair. She froze, and he hurriedly let go. “No, wait, you said a few days by critterbug, right?” He laced his hands together and stretched his arms out in front of him, tail stretching behind him. “Rhonda could probably cover the same distance in an hour or two, tops.” Really, all he needed was the destination. He appreciated Poppy’s offer to come with, but, well—it was a family matter.

But Poppy kept following along as John Dory made his way back to his armadillo-bus. “Rhonda? Who’s that?”

John Dory picked up the pace. Poppy kept up easily.

“She must be really fast…” Poppy was theorizing, tapping her chin as she skipped along. “Oh! I bet she’s a bird, right? Birds can cover big distances fast!”

John Dory chuckled as he came to a stop. “Not quite.” He gestured to the armadillo-bus in question, patiently waiting in the underbrush. His most trusted companion, means of getting around, and beloved home: Rhonda.

Poppy squealed, bouncing over to Rhonda in excited delight. Her enthusiasm was infectious; John Dory couldn’t help the chuckle building in his throat as Rhonda greeted Poppy back with similar enthusiasm.

“Whoa!” John Dory called out, as Poppy made her way over to Rhonda’s door. “I appreciate the help, but you don’t need to come with.” It was a family matter, after all—

“Eh, I’ve been meaning to visit Branch again soon.” Poppy waved off. She paused. “But if you really don’t want me coming with—”

John Dory shrugged, and hopped up into Rhonda. “If you really want to.” He had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to stop Poppy, if she really put her mind to accompanying him. He’d only known her for half an hour at most, and she was already rocketing up his regard through her sheer energy and excitement. So John Dory shrugged, happy to have some company for once.

“Alright, Popster.” He sat down in the driver’s seat as Rhonda started to move, “Get me to Branch.”

+=+=+=+=+

Poppy’s enthusiasm, John Dory was finding, was infectious. Maybe it was the Pop Troll in him, maybe Poppy really did have so much energy that she couldn’t help spreading it everywhere—either way, John Dory couldn’t resist the amusement starting to dance in his chest as she took the wheel, going on and on about the adventures she had had with Branch. She had mostly focused on the Rockpocalypse, as that was where most of John Dory’s questions focused on—but even then she had a lot to say.

John Dory wondered how Poppy and Bitty B knew each other. They must be childhood friends, he figured, with how well they worked together in Poppy’s retelling. Maybe they were even closer—would John Dory find himself with a little sister in Poppy, someday? He sure hoped so—Poppy was a delight.

“So why’re you looking for Branch, anyway?” Poppy asked, as Rhonda made her way from the underbrush to a dirt path.

“Well, I’m looking for all my brothers,” John Dory began. “Because Floyd is in trouble.” He didn’t know if he should say more—he’d rather be telling all of this to Bitty B, if only so he wouldn’t have to tell the story more than needed.

“So you’re getting the band back together to rescue him?” Poppy asked, paw pressed to her face. “Aww, that’s so sweet! And exciting!” She smiled, big and bright. “I know I’m not really family, but if you need any help then you can count on me!”

John Dory chuckled. “Just helping me find Branch is more than enough.” He really wanted to show her the baby pictures—but Poppy was busy driving, directing Rhonda in following the trail as it shifted from dirt to cobbled stones. Rhonda jolted slightly at the terrain shift, but quickly adapted, following Poppy’s driving even as the surrounding forest thinned out to a yellowed field.

John Dory looked out the windshield, watching as the field gave way to an imposing metal fence, far too large to have been made by Trolls. There was something familiar about the looming structures, some distinct feeling of foreboding beginning to curdle in John Dory’s gut.

At once, recognition hit John Dory like a bucket of ice. “This is—this is Bergentown.” He nearly growled, his knuckles paling as he gripped the back of the seat. He leaned forwards to correct the course, or to demand to know what was going on—

“Yeah.” Poppy agreed, her voice firm and quiet. It was such a change from her sugary energy that John Dory hesitated, and she turned to him, expression gentle. “I guess I should have thought about how scary that’d be…” She shook her head. “But we made peace with the Bergens more than a year ago. And I promised I’d get you to Branch.” She urged Rhonda forwards, the armadillo-bus weaving around the streets under her direction. “I just need you to trust me for a little bit longer, okay?”

“I…” John Dory looked out the windshield, fighting down the urge to haul the young Troll from the driver’s seat and turn Rhonda around. He could see Bergens out and about on the streets, looking content—no, happy. That… John Dory’s intuition really didn’t like that. The last time he’d been here, it had been to find the tree withered and empty and the few Bergens he could spot looking absolutely miserable. It didn’t matter what Poppy said—if Bergens were walking around with uplifted spirits, then Trolls were clearly back on the menu.

But Poppy pulled Rhonda up to the central plaza with nary a care in the world, and none of the Bergens harassed or otherwise waylaid the armadillo-bus as she picked her way through the town. As Rhonda came to a halt in the grass, John Dory finally took in the state of what had been his home for the first twenty years of his life.

The cage was gone, and the tree looked even more colorful than John Dory remembered it. He could still see blackened bits on the trunk and branches, and some of the pods were as dull as last he’d seen them, but—

There were Trolls happily going about their business. As Poppy slipped out the side door, John Dory watched as the nearby Trolls noticed her, and started to rush over.

Slowly, goggles firmly over his eyes, John Dory exited Rhonda, keeping his back to her side as he shuffled as far away from the safety she represented as he dared. He could make out the conversation going on towards the base of the tree, and that was enough—if things got ugly, he could probably snag Poppy with his hair from here.

“Well, Branch did make his usual rounds this morning.” A green Troll with pink hair was saying, Poppy listening with rapt attention. “But he left a while ago.” They shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, I can’t tell you more than that.”

“Oh, no problems!” Poppy waved off. “Thanks for the help!” She bounced back over to John Dory and Rhonda, a pep in her step despite the fact that they were still in Bergentown. She slowed down as she came close, holding her paw to her face contemplatively.

“Hmmm, where would Branch be at this time of day? He’s got a pretty set schedule, but with his brother’s wedding coming up…” Her voice dissolved off into mutterings, but John Dory’s brain snagged on the words “brother” and “wedding” and everything after that failed to register.

“Wedding?” He grabbed Poppy by the shoulders. “Clay’s here, too?” He couldn’t possibly imagine Clay of all people getting married—but when he knew that Spruce was elsewhere and Floyd was being held captive, there was only one brother left.

Poppy’s face scrunched in confusion. “...Clay?” Her voice was void of any recognition, then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, right, you mean Brozone Clay!” She shook her head, already skipping off to Rhonda. “No, it’s not him—before you showed up, I didn’t even know that Branch had older brothers!”

John Dory followed Poppy back into Rhonda, his head spinning. “But you said brother?” He pushed his goggles back up, forehead creasing as he tried to work out what the hair Poppy meant.

“His younger brother, duh!” Poppy waved off, already directing Rhonda away from the tree. She said it so casually, like it wasn’t the most out-of-pocket statement John Dory had ever heard. And he was quickly approaching forty-three—he’d heard a lot of insane shit.

“Younger—” John Dory was right up next to the wheel, now, not even caring that Poppy was directing Rhonda down streets alongside Bergens like it was nothing. “Explain?” Mom and Dad were both out of the picture before Branch’s egg even hatched—how in the name of all that was Trolly would Branch ever have a younger brother? It made no sense.

“Well, Gristle and Branch are adoptive brothers,” Poppy clarified, “But that still counts! They pretty much grew up together, from what I know.” She brought Rhonda to a stop, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just brought John Dory’s world to a screeching halt. It hit John Dory like a sack of bricks, how long he had really been gone—Bitty B had found himself a family. Branch had found himself a family, and John Dory had no idea.

With a start, John Dory realized that Poppy had already exited Rhonda, the door flipping shut behind her and leaving him all alone. And while he certainly felt safe inside his dearest companion, John Dory didn’t fancy letting sweet young Poppy walk around Bergentown alone.

Yeah, that was it. That he was barrelling out of Rhonda to catch up with Poppy was purely over concerns about her safety, and not at all because he felt unsafe. Not at all.

Poppy had parked Rhonda near a nondescript… boutique? And had already slipped in through a Troll-sized cutout in the door proper. With a deep breath, John Dory pushed his goggles back down over his eyes, and followed.

Inside, he looked around—there! Poppy had made her way up onto a clothing rack, walking along a strip of metal wide enough for three Trolls. She was face to face with—John Dory stopped in his tracks, deciding to come up to the top of the rack through the clothes. He did not fancy being the subject of a Bergen’s attention! As he slowly made his way up, he caught the conversation Poppy was having with—with the Bergen—

Ohhhhh, John Dory did not like this, nor what it might imply about his baby brother.

“The wedding’s not for four more days.” The Bergen commented, as John Dory finally hauled himself up onto one of the clothing hangers. “Did Bridget need help with some last-minute planning?”

Okay, John Dory was officially lost. Just what had happened in the time he’d been gone? It had only been twelve years since he last came to Bergentown!

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Poppy waved off. “I just wanted to visit Branch, that’s all.” Her tail flirted back and forth as she spoke, not an ounce of fear in her body despite how close she was to the Bergen’s massive teeth. John Dory only found himself growing more concerned about the safety of his people—was Poppy simply insane?

The Bergen chuckled, a low rumble that had John Dory discovering he could tense up even further. “I see.” She commented. “Well, I couldn’t say for sure where he is right now,” She held a massive claw up to her chin as she hummed contemplatively. “You know how he gets when he’s stressed; always finding more work to do and people to yell at.”

Poppy nodded, looking contemplative. “Well, thanks for the help anyway, Bernice.” She turned to where John Dory was balanced on a hanger, tail curled around the metal, but not before waving to the Bergen one last time. “See you at the wedding!”

The Bergen—Bernice? Bernice?—smiled, shaking her head. “Always nice to see you, Poppy!”

John Dory let Poppy take him by the paw and lead him out of the boutique and back to Rhonda. If his head was spinning before, it barely even felt attached now. Was this a fever dream? Oh, god, he must have taken a wrong turn on his way to Pop Village and crashed Rhonda, and all of this was just some weird coma dream his brain had come up with to torment him—

“Right!” Poppy was saying, as Rhonda got up and ready to move again. “We’ll check the castle next, I think—and if he’s not there, we start looking for King Gristle.” With that decided, she directed towards Rhonda towards the castle in question.

John Dory didn’t even have words with which to protest, at this point. With a resigned sigh, he watched as Poppy guided Rhonda up the steps of the castle. His nerves were shot, every fiber of his being frayed with anxiety, but there was no persuading Poppy to turn back. There was little he could do at this point but let Poppy lead him around, Rhonda coasting down the halls easily. John Dory’s thoughts turned inwards, following the same cycle of fear and self-loathing that he’d been avoiding for decades, and it kept coming back to one thought:

Just what had happened to Bitty B in his absence? Living in Bergentown? It had to—it had to have been something recent—Poppy had mentioned making peace with the Bergens, after all, and that must be when Bitty B took up residence in this wretched place, but—

But why? John Dory still wasn’t clear on how, exactly, peace could exist between Trolls and a species hellbent on eating them all. With the way the Bergens he had seen today carried themselves, there was no doubt in his mind that Trolls were on the menu—was it some kind of deal, some kind of willing sacrifice on the Trolls’ part in order to appease the Bergens? But that made no sense, who in their right minds would ever—

Rhonda came to a stop, and John Dory followed as Poppy disembarked. His goggles were still firmly over his eyes, and he had no intentions of removing them. So Bitty B had moved to Bergentown—overseeing the peace, maybe? Sacrificing himself in place of some other Troll?

John Dory shook his head as he followed Poppy in using his hair to launch himself up the wall. No, he refused to think about that. Poppy said Bitty B was okay, and John Dory had agreed to trust her. Maybe her definition of okay was different—

No. John Dory followed Poppy along what could only be described as a path along the wall, perfectly sized for Trolls to run along. He was not going to think about that. Floyd’s life was still on the line—John Dory could figure out what the hair was going on with Bergentown once he had all his brothers back.

Rhonda followed along as the pair made their way through the halls, seemingly unbothered by the occasional Bergen that passed through the halls. The Bergens in question all seemed to recognize Poppy, and she returned their greetings in kind.

Just as John Dory was sure he would implode—

“BRANCH!” Poppy took off along the pathway with a speed that made John Dory’s knees ache just watching, her tail whipping behind her as she bounded over to a Troll a short distance away. The Troll in question turned from the pair of half-sized Bergens he had been talking to, processed the pink blur that was barreling at him, and yelped as Poppy knocked him over with the force of her hug.

“Queen Poppy!” The Troll—Branch, John Dory realized, those blue eyes unmistakable—wheezed, prying himself from Poppy’s grasp. He hurriedly straightened his cape before bowing, silver crown glinting in the light. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.”

The Bergen with the gold crown and red cape smiled similarly. “Hey Poppy.”

Poppy turned to the Bergen and waved. “Hey Gristle! Good to see you!” She and the other Bergen launched into a much more energetic greeting, trading nicknames back and forth. But John Dory wasn’t paying attention to that anymore, pushing his goggles back up to fully drink in the sight of his baby brother. There he was, standing tall and proud, watching Poppy fondly…

A rush of pride crashed into John Dory’s chest. He rushed forwards, shoving his still-frayed nerves to the side. “BABY BRANCH!” His brother! His baby brother! Little Bitty B!

Branch yelped as John Dory scooped him up—or rather, as John Dory tried to scoop Branch up. “Ohhhhh you’ve grown—wow! Charlie horse!”

“Put me down!” Branch kicked and flailed until, gracelessly, the both of them tumbled to the floor. John Dory was slower to get up, joints creaking with the motion. Branch was already brushing off his cape and fussing with his crown, his face a mix between annoyance and something John Dory couldn’t decipher.

The crowned Bergen—Gristle, Poppy had called him—sidled over to look up towards Poppy. “Should I leave…?”

The other Bergen—Bridget? Was that what John Dory had heard her called? Why was he bothering to remember Bergen names—shook her head. “I wanna see where this goes, babe.”

“Who—” Branch backed away, face scrunching in what might have been recognition. “Oh. You.” Not the enthusiastic greeting John Dory imagined, but that didn’t stop him in the slightest.

“Branch, c’mon,” John Dory urged, “It’s me! John Dory! Your brother!” He stepped forwards, but Branch only narrowed his eyes and stepped back.

“Brother—” Gristle gasped, leaning forwards. Bridget had a hand over her mouth, eyes alight with curious excitement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Branch sniffed, arms crossed. “I have a brother, and he’s right there.” He nodded his head towards Gristle, who nodded in satisfaction.

John Dory wanted to scream. The Bergen? The Bergen was Branch’s brother? Branch had—but—

“So you weren’t in Brozone?” Poppy asked, tail starting to droop.

“Of course he was!” John Dory interjected. Okay, so he’d been thrown for a solid loop, real funny. But he was on a mission, dammit! He turned his attention back onto Branch, “You were Bitty B!”

“Brozone?” Gristle asked, peering at Branch suspiciously.

Poppy gasped. “You don’t know about Brozone?” She bounced in place, flapping her paws. “Brozone was only the boyband, like, ever! Even now their music is super popular, and the band broke up before I was even born!” She turned her attention onto Branch, almost launching herself at him in her fervor. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that you were in BROZONE?!”

As Branch hurriedly tried to fend off Poppy’s excitement, Gristle and Bridget turned their attention onto Branch. “You were in a band?” Gristle asked, voice tinted with incredulity.

“I can kinda see it.” Bridget commented, squinting. “It would have been during your years in the Troll Tree, right? Before the Great Escape.” She leaned in a little further, brow drawn in contemplation. “You do kinda look like you’d be related to them.”

Everyone looked at Bridget in surprise. “What?” She shrugged. “I pay attention when Poppy and I share music and hot goss. She got ‘Baby Baby Girl’ stuck in my head for weeks.”

“I dunno,” Gristle interjected, turning his scrutiny to Branch. “Were you really in a band as a baby?”

“Barely.” Branch snorted. “It was only a few songs and one live show.” There was something bitter in his tone, some hidden accusation that flew over John Dory’s head entirely.

“So you were Bitty B!” Poppy confirmed, grabbing Branch by the shoulders. “Oh my Troll!! You can’t just—I can’t believe you never told me!”

“We’ve only known each other for a year…” Branch commented quietly. He turned to John Dory, back on the defensive. “Why are you even here? No, wait—” He pressed his paws to his temples with a groan. “You’re here because you need something, aren’t you?”

“I do need something.” John Dory nodded.

Branch groaned. “Of course you are.”

Unfazed, John Dory barreled on. “It’s about Floyd.” He continued, letting his words spill out. The letter, the trip into Mount Rageous, the state of their brother in that awful diamond prison—it all spilled out in a rush before John Dory was fully processing each word. The more he spoke, the less his nerves about being right next to a pair of Bergens ebbed away, until his mind was lost in the task set before him.

By the time he finished, Poppy’s expression was one of quiet horror, her paws over her mouth. Even Gristle and Bridget looked upset, and Branch—

Branch’s expression was unreadable, his paws clenching and unclenching rhythmically. There was something stormy in those blue eyes, some deep reminder of the years spent apart.

“And why do you need me?” Branch asked.

John Dory almost laughed. What a silly question! “If we’re gonna pull off the Perfect Family Harmony, we’ll need to get the whole band back together. And since Floyd is trapped in a diamond prison, the only way to save him is with the Perfect Family Harmony.” He frowned at Branch. “It’s not complicated, Bitty B.”

“Yeah!” Poppy added. “You’ll get to see your brothers again! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Not a chance.”

John Dory stumbled back at Branch’s words. “What?” That… there must be something wrong with his ears. He must have misheard. There was no way that Bitty B would—

“You heard me.” Branch’s voice was eerily calm, almost detached.

A growl started to build in John Dory’s throat. “Bitty B—”

“Don’t call me that.” Branch snapped. He stepped forwards, “You leave me behind for more than two decades, without a single note, and then when you return you expect me to just act like nothing happened?” Branch’s voice rose in pitch with his incredulity, his paws gesturing wildly as he spoke. “I have a kingdom to help run, my brother’s wedding is in four days, and you want me to toss that all aside to go on an adventure for some Trolls I barely know?” He leaned forwards, teeth bared in a snarl. “Not. A. Chance.”

John Dory gasped, affronted. Yeah, okay, so he’d been gone a while. But he was back! And Floyd was in danger! What in the world was Branch thinking?

“He’s your brother!” Poppy protested, dragging Branch several paces down the path. “You of all people should get how important that is, Branch. I mean, if Cooper, the best little brother in the whole world—no offense, Gristle—”

“Some offense taken.” Gristle responded, though he was smiling.

“—was the one in danger, I would stop at nothing to help him. “ Poppy continued. “And I know you’d do the same for Gristle.”

“Poppy.” Branch held up a paw, putting a pause on her impassioned speech. “I see where you’re coming from. Really, I do. But…” He sighed, heavy and tired, dragging a paw down his face. “All of my brothers left when I was two. Not once, in the near twenty-three years that they’ve been gone, have I so much as received the slightest indication that they’re even alive.”

“But they’re here now…” Poppy started. “At least, John Dory is.”

Branch shook his head. “That’s not the point.” He said. “The point is that I don’t know them. They were in my life for the first two years and then they were gone.” He glanced past Poppy to where John Dory was trying not to watch too obviously, several paces away and close to the wall. “Twenty-three years, Poppy. Anyone can become a totally new person in less than half that.” He shrugged, turning his gaze away to a particularly interesting torch-holder across the hall. “I’m not risking my neck for a couple of strangers, Poppy. Not when there’s so much already on my plate.”

“But—” Poppy started, “They’re your brothers.”

“No, they’re not.” Branch’s voice rose as he spoke, and he breathed deeply, paws clenching and unclenching.

Poppy gasped. “That’s not how blood works, Branch!”

“Blood isn’t everything, Queen Poppy.” Branch murmured. He turned away fully, idly waving a paw as he spoke. “You and your… guest have full access to the castle, as usual. I have business to attend to in the Eastern Quarter.” And with that, he walked away, cape swinging slowly with each step.

John Dory stepped forwards, paws clenching into fists. “Branch—” He stopped, staring down at the bright pink paw thrown out in front of him.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Gristle sighed, turning to follow after Branch.

The two of them turned the corner, Gristle’s exasperated exclamation quickly fading as they went out of hearing range. John Dory watched the two of them go numbly, barely even aware of Poppy and Bridget talking to each other.

This was supposed to be so simple. Branch was supposed to be the easiest brother to find and pick up. Just go to Pop Village and find Bitty B. Simple. Easy. The perfect way to start the onerous task of bringing them all together for Floyd.

How had it gone so wrong?

+=+=+=+=+

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Branch picked up the pace, his shoulders hunching as he ignored Gristle’s question. Anger buzzed in his veins while new worries joined the constant flow of concerns in his mind, his paws clenching and unclenching as he walked towards the castle doors. Branch really did have business to attend to out in town; he hadn’t been lying about that. There was always something that needed to be done, as Prince of Bergentown.

“Hey!” And there was Branch’s big-little brother, matching pace with him easily. “I know you can hear me!”

Branch broke out into a run. Undignified? Yeah. Obvious? That too. But Branch didn’t care. He couldn’t let himself care—there were too many other things he needed to care and worry and think about, he didn’t have the time or energy for this—

“Are you…” Gristle panted, still keeping pace with Branch. “Are you just going to keep running? You’ll run out of castle, dude.”

Branch slowed down, if only so he could properly glare at his obnoxious big-little brother. “Shut up.” As far as retorts went, it wasn’t his best—but what else was he supposed to do? Pull a witty comment from his ass?

Gristle rolled his eyes. “Real clever.” The two of them came to a halt—there was no point in running around; Branch wasn’t going to shake Gristle. “But really, Branch, what’s going on with you?”

Branch crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huffed, turning his head to the side.

Gristle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Berg give me patience…” He muttered. Why was dealing with Branch in a mood always worse than trimming claws?

“When Dad died,” Gristle started, “When his body was falling apart from illness…” He had to pause, here, the memory heavy on his shoulders. “He was suffering, right there in front of me, and I was helpless to do anything about it.” His hands trembled, gaze firmly locked on the floor.

“Your point being?” Branch refused to be swayed by a sob story. He was as much a Bergen as a Troll, after all.

“It sucks to lose someone.” Gristle growled. “You know that as well as I do.”

“It sucks to lose someone close to you.” Branch snarled back. “Grandma was everything to me. Your Father was everything to you. But my former brothers are nothing to me.”

“Okay.” Gristle shrugged. He fixed Branch with a steady gaze. “But when your older brother dies on Mount Rageous, slowly and painfully…” He waved his hand dismissively, “I’d say I hope it doesn’t haunt you, but we both know it will.”

Branch’s shoulders hunched, his paws clenching and unclenching.

At Branch’s lack of response, Gristle cleared his throat. He walked over to the corner of the hall and pulled one of the colored cords, ringing a bell. A moment later, one of the serving staff—Hilda—arrived, bowing in greeting. “Your Majesty. Your Highness.”

Gristle spoke, “Inform Groth and Bernice that they have the remaining days before the wedding off. Paid leave.” Hilda nodded once and rushed off with her orders.

“What?” Branch’s eyes widened as he realized what his brother’s play was. “You did not just—”

“Branch.” Gristle’s voice was imploring. “You actually have the chance to help. To save your family.” Gristle clenched his hand into a fist, gaze resolute. “I’m not letting you waste this.”

“You—” Branch swallowed. His paws clenched and unclenched, and he wrested his gaze away from his big-little brother. After a long, drawn out moment, he threw his head back and sighed.

“I hate you so much.”

Gristle waved it off. “Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now go save your brother!”

+=+=+=+=+

John Dory stared at the album cover in his hands. He had always been more of a doer than a thinker—sitting around doing nothing only ever let in the thoughts he didn’t want, the thoughts that crept up his brain and haunted him for decades.

He, Rhonda, Poppy, and Bridget had moved to one of the castle’s two drawing rooms, the plush couches and craft-covered coffee table oddly Troll-like in design. Rhonda was curled up in Bridget’s lap—she’d taken a shine to the Bergen, which John Dory refused to acknowledge. Him and Poppy were both sitting atop Rhonda’s carapace, Poppy and Bridget talking about the upcoming wedding in a rapid-fire deluge of words that John Dory wasn’t processing.

Every inch of John Dory wanted to burst into action, to track down Bitty B and make him understand what was at stake here. But he didn’t feel ready to wander the castle halls alone with Rhonda, for all that Bridget had become less and less of an immediate threat in his mind.

“Okay, fine.” Branch’s voice cut through the room, and John Dory looked up to see his brother padding across the floor towards them. He launched himself onto the table with his hair. “Let’s go save Floyd.”

Branch had swapped the fur-lined cape for one made of a tougher fabric—well, no, this one was more of a cloak, actually, covering his shoulders fully. There were two clasps, one at his neck and one slightly lower—only the belled upper clasp was closed. Under the cloak, Branch had swapped his shirt for a leaf vest that John Dory vaguely recognized. It was an ensemble that screamed travel, even with the embroidered gray swirls lining the hem of the cloak.

The crown was still the same, though—same silver ring of leaves encircling Branch’s head. John Dory wondered if Bitty B ever parted with it. How long he had it.

Poppy was already moving, already on the table by the time John Dory was even standing. “I knew you’d come around! Oh, you’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back—”

Branch held up a paw. “Why would I do that? You’re coming with.” He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, to him.

“Fine by me.” John Dory stretched before sliding down Rhonda’s side to her open door. Poppy had grown on him like moss on a stone—having her and her energy along would be great.

Poppy squealed. “Oh my hair! Yes! Yes yes yes!” She grabbed Branch’s wrist, yanking him over to Rhonda with ease. “Brozone 2.0! Brozone Reunion! Brozone, Here We Bro Again! Brozone, Where’d They Bro? I don’t know, WE’RE GONNA FIND THEM!”

“Have fun!” Bridget called out as Rhonda sped out the room. “Don’t die!”

John Dory grinned as Rhonda made her way down the castle steps. Finally, time to get this show on the road!

[carlsdarling]

Could you write something where carl has always been super in love with the reader but she only starts paying attention to him after Beth’s death also can you include some smut once they get to Alexandria?

New friends & benefits

After losing your best friend Beth, you and Carl finally get closer and you show him your affection... Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving)

Beth had been your best friend, you literally shared everything; you had been inseparable - especially during your time in prison. Your cells were next to each other, and you stayed up late chatting together. Sometimes you told each other creepy stories, or you played cards, you put make-up on each other and did each other's hair.

Carl kept trying to join you, but you always sent him away. Sometimes you were pretty mean to him, but he got on your nerves. He was a little younger than the two of you, and you didn't know what to do with him. Plus, he was always gawking at you and peeping at you, whatever you were doing.

Beth often made fun of that. "Carl has a crush on you, Y/N. He literally adores you," she giggled. She was probably right about that, but it wasn't something you were proud of.

Then the day came when the prison fell, Hershel died, and you fled to all points of the compass. Not only had Beth and you been lost to each other; you found yourself completely alone in the wilderness, fleeing from a pack of walkers that the Governor had let loose before he died.

For weeks you wandered around, lonely, starving and thirsty; you were not used to being alone. Shortly after the apocalypse started, you had ended up on Hershel's farm, following the death of your parents, and he had taken you in. The farm had been a relatively sheltered place. And now he was dead, and you had no idea where Beth had ended up. Or the others.

Finally, Daryl and Carol found you on the bank of a river, and you fell weeping into Carol's arms. You learned from Daryl that he had been with Beth for a while until she disappeared. Kidnapped. That's what he said, anyway. They were going to free her.

And then the horrible thing happened. Beth was killed, shot to death. You were paralyzed with grief when Carol told you, and you didn't really realize that you had found Rick's group again. You and Maggie shared your sorrow and your loss, you missed Beth and Hershel so terribly, and for a long time you shut yourself off from everyone else.

One evening, when Maggie was already asleep, you were sitting by the campfire, and Carl surprisingly joined you. You looked at him in amazement. It had been perhaps half a year since you had been separated, but you hardly recognized him. He had grown so much, tall and lanky he had become, and he had developed some beard growth. "I'm so sorry about Beth, Y/N," he said sympathetically, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I liked her, too. Even though you two never liked me." He laughed humorlessly.

"That's hardly true, Carl," you replied, "Thank you. It's just... you were so young. How old are you again?"

"Seventeen," he replied, tossing a branch into the fire. "No longer a child," he pointed out, eyeing you. When you didn't respond, he said goodbye and went to sleep.

One year later

A lot had happened in the interim. You had gotten to Alexandria, and Carl and you had become close buddies. You were really starting to like him. Then Carl lost his eye and tried to push you away; he withdrew from everyone, but you wouldn't let him throw away your friendship and persisted in seeking his company, even though he kept saying mean things to force you away. "I've already lost Beth," you said heatedly, picking up the plate and the ham sandwich. Carl had slammed both against the wall and yelled for you to leave, that he didn't want you around. "I'm not going to lose you, too, Carl. No way," you vowed.

"Look at me, Y/N!" he yelled. "I look terrible! I'm not worth it!" The bullet wound hadn't completely healed and his bandage was still a little bloody.

"How can you say such a thing?" you said, affected. "I don't give a damn what you look like. You are, and will always be, my best friend. Period."

Carl sadly fiddled with a pillow. "And... and what if I still want to be more than besties?" he mumbled, barely audible, avoiding eye contact with you. "You know I've always had a little bit of a crush on you."

You held your breath. Several times over the last few months you had imagined that there could be more between you and Carl, you never thought it possible, but you had fallen a tad in love with him, which embarrassed you, especially because you had rejected him for years. So you didn’t admit it to him, and you also thought he had lost interest in you. He seemed to get along well with Enid, too well. Carl‘s accident didn't change your feelings at all, you only cared about him even more. "I'd be happy about that, Carl," you said, gathering all your courage.

He stared at you. Carl possessed such beautiful eyes - or, rather, a beautiful eye. "Are you kidding me? Before the accident you didn't want to be with me, why now? I do not believe you.“

You decided to prove it to him, and just pressed your lips to his. He flinched, taken aback, but then awkwardly returned the kiss. You embraced each other and continued your caresses. You were careful not to hurt Carl or touch the bandage. Carl was all tense from all the stress and suffering, his neck muscles felt rock hard. "Lie down on your back," you whispered in his ear, gently kissing his neck.

"What are you up to?" he wondered, but obeyed.

"Just let me do it. Relax," you commanded, shoving his shirt up a little and starting to kiss his stomach. Carl gasped excitedly. You played with his belly button with your tongue and licked along the line of soft dark hair leading way down, then undid his belt and jeans. Carl was already hard, and whimpering with arousal, he squirmed under you. "Lift your hips," you said, and he did, and you pulled his jeans and boxers down so that his cock was exposed. "Not bad, it's bigger than I thought," you teased, taking him in your hand and kissing the already slightly wet, reddened tip before sliding his shaft into your mouth. You massaged it with your lips and sucked gently on it, and Carl almost lost his mind. He moaned, thrusted vigorously into your mouth and tugged on your hair.

"I've dreamed of this for so long, Y/N," he confessed, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, his eye closed. Tenderly you continued to suck Carl off. After a short while, he became fidgety. "I, I think I, I'm about to cum," he stuttered nervously. „Where? Y/N, I…“ Apparently he was apprehensive about cumming in your mouth.

"It's okay, Carl," you assured him, kissing him on the lips. "Just let go. Let yourself go." Again you took his dick in your mouth and sucked and licked on it, Carl was beyond close, he just sighed and whimpered, then his cum filled your mouth. A load squirted, then a second one and a third. You swallowed it all and waited until Carl was finally done with his load before you let his now softened cock slip out of your mouth, licking him clean and lay down next to him.

Carl snuggled up to you, his pants still pulled down, he was all sweaty and sticky. He glanced at you in love. "I didn't know you felt that way about me, Y/N," he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, I do," you clarified, tugging the blanket over both of you and playing with Carl’s hair.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, if your open to it

Anything with Brainstorm from mtmte. It's criminal how little fanfiction there is of this little shit.

It could be romantic, like Buddy is just pining, and Brainstorm is just oblivious until someone points it out.

It could be familial, like Buddy is Brainstorm's sibling.

Or just some good ol platonic shit, just two chaotic idiots being pals.

We just need more of this mad scientist fuck and in this Ted talk I will-

I have been waiting to get to this one for a while! You're right too about Brainstorm not having too much content out there. It was hard trying to choose just one of the options so by the power of random finger pointing, we got the prompt.

Hope you enjoy!

Brainstorm having Twin sibling

SFW, platonic, familial, Cybertronian/ Bot reader, injuries mentioned

MTMTE/LL

Buddy’s alt-mode is a car, and they have a book nerd personality.

Comparing Buddy to Brainstorm was one of the funnier things to do.

Brainstorm the ever-talented scientist.

Buddy the archivist.

To totally different fields of work and yet they made things work. Brainstorm wasn’t too experienced in Buddy’s field and Buddy wasn’t too into the science field despite Brainstorm trying multiple times to get them into it. Buddy just didn’t seem to have the science touch like Brainstorm did.

“What do I do now Brainstorm?”--Buddy

“See that green wire?”--Brainstorm

“Yeah.” --Buddy

Snip

“Don’t cut that one.”--Brainstorm

“…What happens if I do, in a hypothetical situation?”--Buddy

“Then I suggest you run in the opposite direction NOW!”--Brainstorm

The war was already on its way when the two were around. While Brainstorm opted to become a triple agent, Buddy saw fit in communications and records sectors.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t move stations. Its such a pain to travel between stations and breaks are way too short!”--Brainstorm

“Stormy, I love you and all but you’re forgetting some key facts.”--Buddy

“What?”--Brainstorm

“One, I don’t belong in the science branch, especially nowhere near Project Solar storm.”--Buddy

“True I guess…”--Brainstorm

“And the second reason, I need to do my job Stormy. These messages aren’t going to deliver themselves.”--Buddy

“…”--Brainstorm

“Stop frowning Brainstorm. I always come back on time.”--Buddy

“I’m not frowning. You can’t even tell, I have the mask on!”--Brainstorm

“Stormy, I know when you have the frowny face.”--Buddy

Buddy is one of the few bots that can see through his façade in an instance. They also developed a sixth sense where they can tell if Brainstorm was making a new and possible dangerous invention. Which was almost every time.

Brainstorm putting together a highly unstable and dangerous weapon.

Ping!

Brainstorm answers his comm.

“Hello?”--Brainstorm

“Don’t. Even. Think about it Brainstorm.”--Buddy

“What—”--Brainstorm

“I know what you’re doing is probably not sanctioned, so drop it.”--Buddy

“…buzz kill…”--Brainstorm

“What was that?”--Buddy

“Love you too Buddy!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm himself wanted to know if this was some sort of outlier ability.

“Brainstorm I swear—stick that prod into my joints ONE MORE TIME!”--Buddy

“This would be easier if you would just stay still!”--Brainstorm

“NO!”--Buddy

It wasn’t.

Brainstorm is constantly asking for Buddy whenever he has free time. It’s already bad enough that Buddy can’t be with him all the time, but they have a completely different schedule than he does and work so far away.

He hates having so much distance between them.

It’s a couple more years of these short communications when all lines go dead. Brainstorm was panicking inside. Buddy designation gets added on the MIA list after the sector had been ambushed by a Decepticon attack.

Brainstorm went on to create the Buddy finding machine. A machine that would detect where Buddy was nearby

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Work you machine!”--Brainstorm

“Results: No Buddy.”

“AAARRRRGGHHHHH!”--Brainstorm

Time skip after the time travel incident.

Brainstorm was recovering from everything.

From the trial.

From Quark.

From Buddy.

He made a detour while doing his time travel mess to at least see Buddy one more time in case he accidentally erased himself from existence. He was so tempted in reaching out for Buddy and to warn them of their fate… but he ultimately knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.

He let them go.

But things were getting better. The crew had stopped at a nearby planet after receiving a distress signal.

The ship was buzzing with noise when the crew came back and with someone with them.

“What’s going on?”--Brainstorm

“The away group came back with an injured bot.”--Nightbeat

“Oh?”--Brainstorm

“Yeah, heard the poor bot’s legs where chewed off.”--Skids

“Chewed off?”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm tried to see them but the crowd was too thick and opted in seeing the visitor later. Brainstorm was going back the lab as the crowd dispersed.

He didn’t make it far as Chromedome was hot on his tailpipe.

“Brainstorm! Brainstorm slow down!”--Chromedome

“Chromdome? What are—HEY!”--Brainstorm

“No time to explain! You’ll thank me later!”--Chromedome

He just grabbed his hand and went to the med bay.

“Chromdome what happened?! Is it Rewind?”--Brainstorm

“Domey! You guys are here!”--Rewind

“Guess not. Wait is it Perceptor? Is he hurt?!”--Brainstorm

“Why would I be hurt?”--Perceptor

“PERCY! You can’t just scare a bot like that!”--Brainstorm

“My apologies. Chromedome, does he know?”—Perceptor

“Do I know what?”--Brainstorm

“Not yet, I just hauled him over here. Kind of wanted to surprise him.”--Chromedome

“Surprise me?”--Brainstorm

“Well Nautica has been keeping them company since they came back online.”--Rewind

“Who came back online?”--Brainstorm

“Should we leave when he sees them?”--Rewind

“No, anyways he might faint, someone needs to catch him.”--Chromedome

“I am standing right here! And why in Primus’s name would I faint? Who’s with Nautica? Who came back online?”--Brainstorm

“I spoke with First Aid—”--Perecptor

“WILL SOMEONE PLEASE--!”--Brainstorm

“We’re clear! Good luck Brainstorm!”--Rewind

“… sometimes I wonder why you are my best friend.”--Brainstorm

“Same here now go.”--Chromedome

Brainstorm shrugged the animosity and walked in half expecting Ratchet to throw a wrench in his faceplate after he used the anti-gravity gun on Ambulon last week. And to be on the record that was on voluntary grounds, sure he didn’t explain that this was only his third time testing it and how was he supposed to know he’d be stuck in alt mode too?

He heard giggling and some hushed whispers; he went to find the source to find Nautica and some other bot on the med bay chatting away.

“And as an apology, Brainstorm gave me this multi-purpose wrench!”--Nautica

“You have to show me the button though.”--Bot

“Of course—Oh, look who’s here!”--Nautica

The bot in question spots him and goes quiet, Nautica took notice and looked at Brainstorm quickly moving out of the way so he could have a full view of the bot.

The bot was all scratched up, in desperate need of a new paint job, two legs missing and had a huge dent on the left side of their helm.

“Hey Brainstorm.”--Bot

“…Ummm… Do I know you?”--Brainstorm

He nearly regretted saying that after seeing the crushed look on their faceplate. Nautica and Chromdome were ready to knock some literal sensing into him.

“So… how that data pad of random poems going?”--Buddy

“What did you say?...”—Brainstorm

“The data pad of all the random poems? You know?”--Buddy

“…Buddy?”--Brainstorm

 “We were reading them every other cycle?”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Brainstorm

 Wait, did you throw it away? I told you—”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”—Brainstorm

Brainstorm is hit by the reality brick when he realizes the bot was Buddy.

He squeals and practically jumps on top of them trapping them in a fierce hug that was sure to cause more dents.

He’d suffer Ratchet’s wrath later; he was sobbing up a storm as Buddy reciprocated the hug.

The others took this moment as a time to leave.

Brainstorm did in fact suffer Ratchet’s wrath later.

Brainstorm tried to scold Buddy in going on the mission, but he stops and begins asking where in Primus’s name where they this whole time.

As it turned out Buddy had managed to escape the ambush because they left the base a few minutes earlier. Why did they do it? They don’t know but they were glad they did.

After that they just ended up on the run after a few drones managed to find them. Buddy managed to run fast enough to make it to a jump ship and randomly punched in some coordinates before the rest caught up to them.

The ship then crashed into the planet below which conveniently knocked them into a stasis pod which only now reopened after a few rouge Insecticons began tearing the wreckage apart and one was very interested in their pedes and took them.

Brainstorm makes a mental note to find the Insecticon later. Brainstorm then gets Buddy up to speed with other things going on with the ship as Nautica gave them a brief rundown.

He wants to make Buddy’s new legs with built in guns.

Ratchet and most of everyone on board says otherwise. Brainstorm is glued to Buddy’s side during and after recovery.

He refuses to leave their side at all.

Buddy has to put up some boundaries to keep him from doing more dramatic things.

Aka blackmail.

Primus forbids someone having a crush on Buddy, brainstorm already has a questionnaire and 4 exams for them to complete for them to even begin to think about dating.

“Oh, you think you can just have them?”--Brainstorm

“Umm… yes?”—Random Bot

“Well, if your miniscule processor can get through these measly exams, then maybe you’ll have a chance with them.”--Brainstorm

[peach-fiz]

I actually didn't even bother watching the second season of Loki because of the cheap marketing and inconsistent storytelling.

It just felt like the plot was lifted off somewhere it would have made sense, and a character with a similar ego was replaced with Loki and goes through an arc that might have made sense for a blank slate character, but not someone who already has a backstory.

Loki doesn't even feel like Loki after three episodes in S1. The whole point of having a show like that just seems to be about the TVA and Sylvie.

Also the whole genderfluid thing. They 'confirmed' it in the promo and had a line in the script that went completely against anything they just said.

I knew at once that the writers, directors and other parts of production were really just pulling it in different directions and it would probably sound like a jazz trumpeter and a metal guitarist trying to improvise after knowing each other for 15 minutes.

I've been meaning to watch it just so I can have educated opinions on all of it but it's just,, so hard to get into. I definitely agree the marketing was cheap, they did with the 80s McDonald's like they did DB Cooper!Loki and made it centric to the advertising because McDonalds was also getting something out of it which is kinda ass seeing as realistically Loki Laufeyson would burn 6 of them down before he ate in one 😭

I personally don't like either of the major ships in the show but the forced Sylki shit in season 1 really got to me. Like not only did she completely replace him as the main character in HIS show, she's also a variant of him who he wants to make out with and overall it just reads as lazy writing and it's extremely disappointing that Mike Waldron has been put in charge of Multiverse of Madness and The Kang Dynasty since, due to the popularity of the Loki TV show. I was talking to my boyfriend about this last night but it kinda reminds me of the complaints people had ab the last Indiana Jones movie but opposite? Like everyone complained his best friend's daughter was gonna replace him bc she's a Mary Sue and she rlly isnt, she's more reminiscent of Marion in Raiders of the Lost Ark she just doesn't wanna fuck him. But the difference is Indy is a character who's majorly blank for little boys to project themselves onto. Which is great!! It works for those kind of movies, but they're not character development centric like the individual mcu movies tend to be. Loki is characterized in a way that he's drowning in identity issues and family problems and he experiences growth in every installment whether it be positive or negative. It doesn't make sense to take the formula of an Indidna Jones movie where he meets up with a woman who's typically a love interest and has her own issues that are only slightly touched on because that's not the focus, and they go do the plot.

Sylvie is not an Indy Girl, they straight up are trying to replace Loki with Sylvie. And you can tell the character wasn't supposed to have as much importance as she does in the show bc the character was worked on more after the actress they chose was buddies with a producer ( and this is no hate to the actress I'm sure she's delightful everything I've seen her in in terms of interviews has been lovely ).

I also absolutely agree they should've just made a tva mini series to introduce the tva rather than bringing back a dead character who soon will not make much sense anyway because Tom Hiddleston is getting older (and also he deserves to branch out in his career).

The genderfluid thing was a cash grab and it sucks ass, they just want money for acknowledging things already canon in the comics, same with confirming him as bisexual.

My boyfriend is actually writing a fic on ao3 called Find Me that's rlly good if you want Loki content that isn't related to the show.

(YES this is shameless promotion sshhhhshshsh) but fr the loki TV show makes me more confident in my screenwriting bc t h a t got put on disney plus. I'm also working on a Loki show rewrite in my spare time!!

[f0xgl0v3]

Octavian and Michael Kahale

I wrote out this post during school on a different device and now I am going to try and relay it as best as I can without like forgetting or whatever,

Let it be known that I was working on this instead of reading TSOA because I got to the Scyros part and I didn’t want to read Deidama(?) and I had to read the cave scene earlier that day after finishing a text.

But anyway, Octavian and Michael. They had a weird and in my honest opinion bad dynamic the two had (not to note the lackluster or contradictory characterization of them) and along with a conversation (can I call it a conversation? Maybe idk) @zazzander (who is amazing go check them out they’re super cool) a while ago when I first talked about Michael Kahale- and I’d want to say my re-imagining of their relationship (that would be canon to my re-imagining of Camp Jupiter in generally; which includes the map I’ve been working on :D)

But anyway Octavian and Michael- the idea that Zaz brought up was to make the two cousins! And I really like that idea because it makes a lot more things make a lot more sense.

Somewhere (or the community agreed? Idk where we believed it but I agree) we have agreed/the books have mentioned (idk) that Octavian is descended from the whole Julius Caesar, Augustus, etc lineage. And I find that an interesting concept. But this makes the family being legacies of Venus (as Julius Caesar claimed himself a descendant of Aeneas, a son of Venus) and this is when I that Michael is from the Venus descendent, he is a millennia old Legacy. (This explains why he doesn’t usually show any powers from what I know of. Even though the Aphrodite/Venus cabin/kids get the shortest end of the stick and I don’t like what Riordan really did with the Aphrodite cabin, or their power sets and like everything-) but it at least makes more sense why he doesn’t show very strong powers (as long as we forget that Frank exists for a second and we go with how I think legacies work. I’ll probably write on that)

But Octavian is from a branch off of that, where sometime much more recently there was a child of Apollo that can be tracked back (I’d say still fairly recent in the scale of generations-) so Octavian can have his much more potent prophecy thing or whatever.

This also makes sense of Michael just showing up at camp rather than Octavian’s father just like spawning into existence at Hawaii, pointing at Michael and going, “Alright kid, your joining the military” (totally not how it went down but like- you get the idea)

They were little buddies over. silly little cousin duo, Michael’s legacy parent chose to go to Hawaii (or maybe the families been out there, though I’d think they’d stay in New Rome) and occasionally Michael would visit over for the holidays (not the other way around because I stand firm by the ‘Octavian has never left Camp Jupiter or New Rome’. His quest to become Centurion probably puts a dent in that but idk- for now that quest in my head is being Terminus’s assistant. Julia *who is totally Octavian’s little sister, anyone who says otherwise is completely entitled to their opinion but I think it’s cute* is just the next in a long line to take up that ‘quest’ it’s really just and excuse by the family to try and get their kids more letters of recommendation, ANYWAYS-)

This still makes them little confidants AND it gives us a good reason to have a Michael Kahale. In this re-imagining, he can have a personality and a narrative function- I’d see it as a character that is genuinely worried for Octavian and doesn’t really know what to do because it’s the legion or it’s Octavian and we get to let Michael have this strong emotional moment at some point (whether that’s at his death *which I personally don’t know if I’m killing off Octavian in the re-imagining, I probably won’t for my biases- but if I do I’m giving him a more reasonable death than the stupid random death they gave him in BoO* or during a moment of weakness or whatever)

And it gives Octavian another person to bounce off of. It gives him someone to interact with so we see a friendlier version of Octavian. So we can see this hesitation and distrust of strangers (which is valid because I too am closed off and awkward and a little rude at times with people I don’t know in real life- please it’s literally just because I don’t know you.) but with Michael we’d get to see a more comfortable Octavian, see him positively interact with someone.

Okay I’m on my way to the airport and just wanted to get this out before I had to get on my flight but that’s all I could think of right now, so uh- let’s hope I get to Cali safely :]

[cheswirls]

actually gonna ramble abt tetherverse + sequel below w/o tagging so it can be buried. if anyone remembers this when the sequel gets posted to ao3 then uh oops sry. don't read if you want a blind surprise ig

I PULLED UP THE OUTLINE DOC that's kinda partially backwards-outline and other part extensive notes on everything ever. descriptions of clothing for disguises, pkmn team lists, short descriptors for the main and supporting cast, all the 'clues' scattered thru the story to solving ace's murder, EXTENSIVE notes on each of the sevii islands and what gets changed for tetherverse, and 'past' notes that detail ace and sabo's travels around the globe.

law and luffy's side of the story still only takes place on the sevii islands bc they're exploring luffy's home region. sabo on the other hand gets worked to the bone all over kanto.

took inspo from pkmn ranger SoA and the mind-control soundwaves they produce from machines. in tether it was v impt to me to not put anyone in a position of power bc i wanted to separate the plot and cast from having that kind of notoriety and also didn't think it necessary - it was basically a travelog that branched into breaking up a trafficking ring. in the sequel it doesn't work like that, because the point is that this whole conspiracy is being orchestrated by ppl with power. of course the e4 are the enemy. of course they're the admirals. the only surprise pick is vp.

also vp!!!!!! still a scientist with seven personal assistants for seven different areas of study. goes missing at the start and sabo has to corroborate with all six to get anything done and push closer to the truth. interpol gets involved. sabo becomes interpol at the very end and finally finds what he wants to do with his life.

also poor sabo :( he's in the hospital for long enough that he convinces ace to continue their 2nd circuit thru kanto without him, and that he would catch up later. gets outta the hospital just as ace leaves cinnabar bound for viridian, and then ace's body is found on the far side of mt. silver, so very, very far from his destination. found decaying at the base with striker's mega stone smashed to smithereens and the only reasonable conclusion the authorities can drive is that he tumbled down while scaling the mountain. sabo blaming himself so much because he wasn't there to keep ace out of trouble.

before they travel around kanto for ace's second try at the indigo league, they're both in galar for a hot minute after ace gets invited to participate in the league challenge. this is where sabo's starter, his venusaur, ends up getting sick and dying. he spends a lot of time out in the wild area, absolutely heartbroken w/o a cure to fix him. captures his first non-dragon type that happens to be a volcarona. also captures a bagon that becomes his mental support buddy while the pair are in galar - something he can focus on, someone he has to take care of bc the pkmn rarely cares for itself. it's cathartic.

when ace dies sabo leaves for kalos because he views it as the last region he and ace journeyed through where everything was okay. before galar and venusaur. before kanto and striker and ace. sabo doesn't know how to exist without ace. dragon finds him and harbors him for a week and then kicks him out to travel the region on his own with only a single fennekin on his team. this is sabo's start at forming a fire-type team and also his first venture to learning to survive without ace.

thats it thats all i got i aint revealing my whole hand jus yet. exciting stuff i absolutely LOVE working w/ pkmn aus.

[telomeke-bbs]

I actually think the first person to cross the tribal lines in bad buddy was Pran when he saved Pa. You can see afterwards he wanted to be the Jindapat kids’ friend even when he was told not to, but Pat pushed him aside and didn’t thank him after the incident and so his guard went back up and he talked about Pat ‘owing’ him. His olive branch offering also bookends the show as he saved Pa in episode 1 and buys Ming a gift from Singapore in episode 12 even though he knows/believes in both incidences he’ll probably gain nothing from it. Dissaya’s emotional abuse of Pran caused him to repress everything to please others and to protect himself. But his inherent kindness and selflessness always still shone through

Hi Anonymous! You're so right that the first one to cross tribal lines was Pran, jumping in selflessly to save Pa from drowning while poor Pat was too stunned to move. (And to anyone else reading, this comment is a reference to an earlier post on tribes and sides here. 😊)

I have to respectfully disagree with your observation about Pran's repression being caused by emotional abuse from Dissaya though; the only time we see her flare up at Pran (and it was admittedly a doozy) was the one time in Ep.10. I do agree she can be harsh and over-protective, but for the most part I can't picture her being abusive to Pran whom she loves so much.

Actually, we only see Dissaya turn into the flame-spewing dragon version of herself whenever Ming or his family are somehow involved (and this was invoked when Pran confessed that he and Pat were in a relationship during their Ep.10 confrontation). At all other times within the family home, Dissaya is the very soul of tenderness with her beloved Pran – for example, during the two scenes of them at the Siridechawat dining table (in Ep.1 and Ep.7), and also in Ep.12.

It's possible she could have gone ballistic at Pran during his childhood/adolescence whenever the Jindapats were involved, but I prefer to think that their Ep.10 confrontation was more a one-off in terms of intensity, and that it only escalated to that level because Pran was newly confident from being in love, and was now sassing her back. This would explain why he also found it so terribly devastating when she lashed out, if she'd never done it so violently before (verbally or physically). I think Pran only became the emotionally-repressed version of himself that we see in earlier episodes because he learnt from Dissaya that great dangers lurked outside, emphasized by her always exaggerated and outsized reactions to the Jindapats.

Thanks very much for pointing out the lovely parallel with Pran's gift to Ming in Ep.12! I hadn't noticed it before, so that was a nice discovery for me. 😊

Actually, Pran's gift of alcohol in Ep.12 made me put on my thinking hat again, and looking more closely I believe it's actually really loaded with significance.

Once again, this references the Jindapat family's Thai-Chinese roots, and Ming's portrayal in the series as a Chinese traditionalist.

Alcohol and liquor have a special place in traditional Chinese culture (which is ironic, given the prevalence of the Asian flush). There are all sorts of associations and symbolisms assigned to liquor, wine and spirits in Chinese literature and poetry dating back thousands of years. This significance of alcohol has persisted to the present day, and as with many aspects of Chinese culture, can also come into play when navigating the complex rituals addressing social hierarchy. In the China of today, hard drinking with business clients is still seen as an essential part of relationship-building (although there has been recent pushback); in drinking the liquor, you honor the client, while refusing alcohol that a client offers to you during a drinking/dining session is tremendously insulting to him/her. (A teetotaler friend of mine found this out the hard way.) If you'd like to read more, there are plenty of articles floating around the Internet (some links: Literary Lushes, Understanding Drinking Culture in China and Work Drinking in China Comes Under Fire).

As the Siridechawats are not (or do not identify as) ethnic Chinese (depicted very clearly when Pat and Pran's moms have their Ep.1 "Baby boy, call me Ma/Mae" dispute in the street), Pran's gift of prized, quality alcohol specifically to Ming is really significant because it is such an esteemed gift for a Chinese patriarch from someone not bound by the same traditions, and Ming understands this. (That the alcohol is meant for Ming is mentioned by Pran during the scene at the wonton noodle stall in Ep.12 [3I4]. And we are also shown that Pat too understands the significance of Pran's gift – he stops the teasing banter they'd been engaging in up to that point, and nods emphatically at Pran at Ep.12 [3I4] 13.44 with perhaps a note of pride in his half-smile. Pran didn't forget the rest of the Jindapats though; there are snacks for them too in the bags from Singapore that we see in Ep.12, also highlighting Pran's thoughtfulness – and I'm also trusting in his good taste to have avoided buying the durian-flavored chocolate mini-Merlions. Abominations. 😂)

What we're seeing is Pran, as the partner of Pat, being the dutiful son-in-law and honoring his Chinese father-in-law with a culturally very appropriate and meaningful gift, even though he has every reason to believe the gift will not be acknowledged as such (and even though their relationship itself is not formally acknowledged, i.e., Pran is not considered part of the Jindapat family and is not officially a son-in-law). Pran's alienation is not because he is gay; we're shown that Ink has been happily welcomed into the family as Pa's lesbian partner (with Ink addressing Ming using the Chinese honorific for "father" at Ep.12 [4/4] 0.25 and Pat's mom going "It's like we have two daughters now" at Ep.12 [4/4] 3.43). Rather, it's because Pran is from the enemy Siridechawat tribe (but we all knew that already 😊).

Nonetheless, we are then shown that Pran's alienation isn't a complete one. When Ming takes a sip of the liquor later on, it's not because he's a secret alcoholic, or just can't resist its great flavor.

I think Ming (knowing full well the gift is from Pran) has been so moved by Pran's gesture honoring him and his traditions that in drinking he signals tacitly not just that he accepts the gift, but that he also symbolically accepts Pran as his son-in-law (although he's probably never going to admit it out loud). 💖 To Ming, this is not just any old gift – it is one that resonates with deep cultural echoes, from someone outside their tribe and traditions whom he treated so despicably, but who still cares enough to do correct thing by offering respect to the patriarch and father of his spouse. In doing so, Pran has also shown respect for the traditions that Ming holds dear, and his unselfish gift across tribal lines comes even when the very traditions it embodies were what caused them so much anguish in the first place (see this analysis here for more explanation).

And this is when we get a glimpse of Ming quietly admitting some of the guilt he feels in allowing tradition to dictate so much in their lives at the expense of their happiness, and is also why he softens just a bit and redelivers the misdirected mail to the Siridechawats later on.

So it really was an olive branch across tribal lines, initiating a stepdown in the warfare between the two families. 😊

Eep. I've rambled on too long as usual. But thanks so much for pointing me to this, Anonymous! I hadn't fully worked out the significance of Pran's gift before, and it's really thanks to your comment here that I have a better understanding of Ep.12 and the thawing that we see in Ming. You've given me a gift here. 😊 💖

[trektraveler]

Nightingale Chapter Thirteen: Broken Pieces and Jagged Edges

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Thirteen: Broken Pieces and Jagged Edges

Word Count: 6966

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Additional Additional Notes: I feel the need to reiterate that this is fiction and in no way is a reflection on real life people. Jensen's Ex Wife in this fic is not nice. Ex's are ex's for a reason and aside from physical appearance and name, the Danneel in this story bears no resemblance to the RLP. Fiction is just a place to lose yourself for a while, not a place to hurt people.

Series Masterlist

“Oh, so you’re alive! I thought maybe you wasted away, and your cat was eating the face off your decomposing body.”

“Hi Maddy,” you deadpanned, opening the door wide so she and the twins could enter your apartment. “Hi munchkins.”

“Hi Y/N,” chirped Casey, instantly running off to explore.

“Your cat eats faces?” Chrissy’s brow puckered with worry.

You reached down to pick him up and rest him on your hip, “I don’t have a cat. Your face and all your other body parts are safe here, buddy.”

“Well, it’s clean,” Maddy said as she peeled off her coat and gloves. “In a sad, divorced dad living in a motel room, kind of way.”

“Glad you approve.”

She cast a critical eye around the bare bones dwelling, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

You set Chrissy down so he could play with his sister who had discovered your stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in the bathroom cabinet. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you were going shopping?”

“We came to pick you up; you’re coming with us.”

“I’m not fit for public appearances.”

“Not looking like that, you’re not,” she agreed.

Your shadowed eyes looked away on a sigh and Maddy grabbed your hands. Coaxing you to look at her. When you did, she gave you a sad smile.

“Come on. Wash your face, change your clothes, and grab your coat. Let’s go stimulate the economy.”

It was just a few short days before Christmas and after seeing your pitiful apartment in person, Maddy insisted on decorating for the season. Hours later, you had hit every shop conceivable and put a hefty dent in your bank account. The twins conked out on your bed while you and Maddy put up your new tree in the corner of your living room.

Several strands of lights and a few ornaments made a hell of a difference. There were wreaths, stockings, garlands, and ribbons. It did have that fresh out of the box look, but it still warmed everything up to the point that it wasn’t so painfully vacant.

“I ran into him yesterday,” Maddy said, as she wrapped tinsel around the tree. “He looked like shit.”

You nodded, listening as you tried to focus, placing the glittering star shaped ornaments on the branches.

“He offered to help carry my groceries, like nothing had even happened!”

“He’s a good man.”

“I hate him, and I told him to get bent,” Maddy spat, pouring each of you a hefty serving of spiked eggnog.

You accepted the drink with an arched eyebrow.

“Alright, I didn’t, but I really wanted to. He deserves it!”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s hurting just as much as I am and hating him won’t fix it.”

Maddy took a large swallow of eggnog and added another shot of brandy for good measure. “He was going to ask about you. I could tell, it was written all over his face, but I bolted as soon as the elevator doors opened. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

“I appreciate your solidarity, but you don’t need to alienate yourself from your neighbors on my account.”

“How are you so balanced about this?

“I’m applying for sainthood,” you shrugged.

“We should be raging!” Maddy shook her fists for emphasis. “Drinking regrettable amounts of tequila and swearing off men while listening to Taylor Swift!”

“I don’t really like Taylor Swift.”

Maddy shook her head in despair, “You’re in worse shape than I thought.”

You plopped down on the couch, which immediately sagged sadly under your weight. “I don’t want to rage. There are so many things about this that don’t make sense. But at the end of the day, it comes down to trust. I’ve lost his trust, whether it was my fault or not.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

You drew your legs up under your backside to make room for Maddy to sit beside you. “Jensen’s been burned before by people who had an ulterior motive. People in that industry are inundated with it all the time. Everything is fake. Not to mention his cheating ex-wife.”

“You are not her,” Maddy insisted, sinking down on the vacant end of the couch. “He must know that.”

“I thought he did. Oh Maddy, you didn’t see the look in his eyes. He was devastated. He looked at me like I had betrayed him just like she did.”

You felt like crying as the familiar tightness started in your chest, squeezing your heart. But you’d spent so much of the past week in tears that you doubted you could produce another drop at this point. And you’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t. You needed to get on with it. You still had a life to live and that was why you invited Maddy and the kids over. Nothing like a kickass mom to kick your ass when you needed it.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. You did,” she nodded for emphasis. “Sacrificing your self-worth won’t cure his trust issues. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I know, I know,” you whispered. “But why does doing the right thing feel so shitty?”

“Because you’re in love with him.”

You nodded and Maddy suddenly yelped. Jumping to her feet while rubbing her ass cheek. A rusty spring was sticking up through the cushion she had been sitting on.

Maddy gave you a disgusted look, “New couch, first thing tomorrow.”

Jensen was at his parent’s house for exactly twenty-seven hours before he made his escape. Going home was always a balm for him. He reconnected with his family and could leave his public persona at the door. Not the case this year. There was paparazzi waiting for him at the Dallas airport, a few of them even followed him to his old neighborhood. They only retreated after they encountered the security enforced at the gated community.

He was greeted at the door by his mother and a pile of Amazon boxes. The gifts he’d ordered over the past few weeks, many of them for you.

“Sorry honey, I didn’t know which ones to get rid of.”

He felt so alone despite being surrounded by friends and family. It was as if their presence accentuated the one person who was glaringly absent. God, he missed you! The term heartbreak was literal, there was this ever-present ache right in the center of his chest. Sometimes it hurt to even breathe! Just a word or a glance, a commercial on tv, a song on the radio. Everything reminded him of you, and it hurt like hell.

After he’d had his fill of endless explanations and pitying looks, Jensen pulled a baseball cap down over his head and borrowed his brother’s truck. He wasn’t even sure where he was going until he saw the flickering neon sign advertising cold beer and bottomless wings. It was just the sort of hole in the wall Dean would have loved.

“What would Dean do?” Jensen muttered as he pulled into the parking lot.

He knew from previous experience that it was only a temporary solution, but it would do for the moment. The moment, turned into days. It wasn’t the alcohol that helped as much as the strange surroundings. He didn’t want to be home, any home he had felt wrong now because you weren’t there. It was like you’d taken that with you when you walked away from him that night. Or perhaps it never really existed. Like so many things about you… it simply wasn’t real.

It was Jensen’s last night in Texas. In the morning, he would head back to Vancouver where he could lose himself in his work. God, did he need something positive to focus on. Something besides himself! He’d spent the last three weeks as a permanent fixture at table number five and even he had to admit, a good drying out was in order.

“Buy a girl a drink?”

He was pulled from his brooding thoughts by a voice he hoped to never hear again. He didn’t even bother to look up.

“Buy it yourself, you’ve got plenty of my money to do so.”

She was just as he remembered. Her red hair was highlighted this time and longer. Probably those fancy extensions she liked so much. Tanned skin and pucker perfect lips. The living embodiment of the Hollywood standard.

Her dark chocolate eyes were expertly accentuated by smokey liner, yet they held no warmth. She smirked as she sat across from him and he wondered how in the hell he had ever been attracted to her.

“Leave.”

Danneel signaled to the bartender and sighed, “That’s no way to talk to your amicable ex. I thought we were on decent terms.”

“Yeah, I live my life and you crawl back to yours. Why are you here anyway? This place doesn’t even have Wi-Fi.”

“It’s not my usual style, but I was in town visiting a few friends and heard you were around. Thought I’d swing by and wish you a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jensen intoned. “Now get out.”

The bartender dropped off another pitcher of beer along with an extra pint glass. With deliberate movements, she poured herself a glass and topped of his. After a moment, she sighed. “I came to apologize.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed, as he watched her blood red manicured nails tap the side of the pint, “For what?”

“For everything. For how things ended between us, for the affair.” To his astonishment, tears pricked those cold eyes. “It was my fault, all of it. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was hoping you could forgive me.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. Danneel wasn’t known for her humility. He used to see it as confidence and strength. Now it seemed arrogant.

“Seriously?”

“I am so sorry, babe. It was the biggest mistake of my life and…” she reached across the table and grasped his hand. “I regret it. Every day. If I could go back, I’d do so many things differently. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

It was then that he saw the seams in her veneer. Danneel was an actress or had been at one time and after nearly a decade married to the woman, he knew her tells.

“I miss you. I’d like to become friends again.” She cocked her head and gave him a sultry look he knew well.

“You want to get back together.” Jensen breathed.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it? We can try again, get it right this time.”

Her foot gently nudging at his leg under the table, “We were good together, we could be again.”

He barked out a laugh. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Danneel never did react very gracefully to not getting her way. Her confidence slipped from her features, and she sneered.

“You arrogant son of a bitch! You’re turning me down? You? You’re an over-the-hill pretty boy who fell ass backwards into a leading role! You’ve got nothing without that show and as soon as it ends so will your so-called career.”

Suddenly, Jensen was thrown back into the exact same feelings he’d had when he walked in on her cheating on him. Back to every belittling conversation they’d had. Back to every snide remark she’d made in front of his friends and family. She cut him down in a million ways and he felt so low about himself that he never recognized it for what it was. Abuse, no matter how you sliced it.

You deserve to be loved. Completely and totally. Every day.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You got that right,” she spat.

For the first time since that awful gala, he felt you beside him. He was a stronger person and a better man for the time he spent with you. That relationship with you; no matter how brief, no matter how it ended, made him better. And he didn’t have to lose that just because he lost you.

“I deserve better.” He looked his ex-wife squarely in the eye for what he was sure would be the last time. “You cheated on me. You used me for my money and my connections. You never loved me, half the time you didn’t even fake it. And that’s on me for sticking around when I knew it wasn’t right. But I’ll be damned if I’m ever going back to that life again.”

Danneel was practically sputtering when Jensen got to his feet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “Drinks on me.”

He turned on his heel and walked away from her for the second time in his life. And this time, he knew it would stick.

It took you six more weeks to complete your internship at Vancouver General. After a final round of tests, McMillian put you back into your regular rotation as a doctor in the ER. Tony wanted to ease you into it, but as they were short staffed you were back up to your normal workload in short order.

You easily fell back into the rhythm of hospital life. The fast pace and variety of challenges in the ER kept you on your toes. Being a doctor again gave you a purpose. You helped people in measurable ways, and it felt good. Your days off were mostly spent with Maddy and the kids. Occasionally, you met up with Kimmy for coffee but aside from that you had no contact with anyone from your time with Jensen.

It was as distant as a dream, making you wonder at times if it had been real at all. It was in your dreams that you saw him. The nightmares with the little girls were not as frequent, probably because you made a point to exhaust yourself every day. But you did see Jensen. Green eyes crinkling as he smiled just for you. His hands wandering as your body arched to his touch. You dreamt of the cabin, of hot tubs and cowboy boots, Netflix marathons, and singing cheesy county songs. You hated going to sleep because waking up and finding yourself alone was a new kind of torture.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost had never lost the love of Jensen Ackles.

There were times when you wished you could just lose your memory all over again, at least then you wouldn’t have to live with knowing how good things could be. You could live in oblivion and maybe then you could get a little peace.

“Hey, Gabby!”

Your head shot up from your phone as the elevator doors opened, you still weren’t used to hearing people address you by that name. “Oh, hey Val. How’s the pathology lab treating you?”

“Brutal. I’ve got a stack of paperwork waiting for me after lunch plus that new guy in cardiology is on my ass for a blood panel he ordered less than an hour ago.”

“You’ll rise to the challenge.”

“Always do,” she smiled and hit the button for the cafeteria. “You know, I’ve got tickets to that Supernatural convention next weekend. My roommate can’t go, and I know how much you love that show.”

You kept your features schooled; this wasn’t the first time Val had tried to pump you for information on Jensen. After the TMZ article leaked, she was the first in line to try and get the real story from you. Most of your collogues were professional enough to not press you, especially at work, but Val was persistent. You never gave her an inch.

“I’ve got overnight shifts that weekend, but I’m sure you’ll find someone to take you up on your offer. It’s a popular show.”

“True. The convention sold out super quick this time… probably because people are wanting to hear Jensen talk about his wife.”

You frowned and couldn’t help from asking, “His wife?”

“Oh God… didn’t you hear? They got back together! The whole fandom is up in arms about it. She’s always been a little stand offish and was rude to fans back in the early days.” Val explained in that airy, gossipy way she had about her. “I doubt he’ll say anything about it, but maybe! You know, if he has a few drinks in him.”

The elevator doors opened, and Val stepped out, not waiting for your response. You stopped off at the locker room to change into your scrubs. Once you were alone, you opened your phone and against your better judgement, you found the story.

Jensen and Danneel Ackles spotted at local bar. Despite finalizing their divorce last year, the longtime love birds were seen getting cozy during the Supernatural star’s last trip home. Insiders say they are on track to recapture the romance as soon as the CW series wraps.

You stared at the picture of them, obviously taken from another table and not posed. They were leaning close, talking. It could have been a normal conversation, you supposed. It didn’t necessarily have to be romantic. You knew firsthand that the press didn’t operate with integrity. But given what Jensen told you about that marriage and how it ended, you couldn’t fathom why he would give her the time of day at all!

Your first instinct wasn’t jealousy, it was worry. God! Was he hurting so bad that he went back to her? Back to the woman who broke his heart and eroded his self-esteem? Your mind went through the rolodex of people you could ask about it. In the end, you came up blank. There was no way it wouldn’t get back to Jensen. He was so angry with you that it would likely push him even further into destructive behavior. You just had to hope that Jared and other good people around him would help keep him balanced.

It hurt to see him. Even a slightly blurry cell phone shot of the back of his head. You missed him terribly. Most days, you were good at leaving your personal life at the door. That was one of the blessings of your job; you could let it consume you completely and it just made you better at it. But today, it just stayed with you.

Unfortunately, your shift wasn’t a busy one. Not that you wanted people to be hurt, but what you wouldn’t give for a kid with a broken arm right about now!

“Doctor Baines,” one of the nurses came up and handed you a clipboard. “Exam room two, male aged fifty, chest pains.”

Your eyes darted over the papers as you made your way across the ER. All typical baseline information, weight, age, height and the name. You stopped in your tracks. Son of a bitch!

“And the hits just keep coming.”

Clif reclined on the exam bed. Despite already being stripped out of his street clothes and dressed in a flimsy hospital gown, he was planning his escape. “This is a damn waste of time.”

Jared clamped a hand down over Clif’s shoulder and forced him to stay put, “We are not going anywhere until the doctor takes a look at you.”

“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Clif grunted as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Keeling over in the middle of the day is not fine. And chest pains are on the short list of things you don’t ignore.”

“Jared Padalecki, ever the voice of reason.”

The two men looked at you in complete surprise as you entered. Every inch the professional; starched white lab coat over navy blue scrubs, hair pulled back in a ponytail and your id clipped to your lapel.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Clif muttered while Jared rose from the cramped chair next to the bed.

“Y/N,” he pulled you into a quick hug.

“Good to see you too.” You gave a tight smile to your patient who glared in return. “So, what brings you in today, Mr. Kosterman.”

“No way in hell I am talking to you,” Clif grunted while a grimace of pain crossed his face. “Get my pants, Jarpad, we’re out of here!”

“Severe chest pain, shortness of breath, elevated blood pressure, sweating.” You tossed the clipboard on the foot of the bed. “There’s not a chance I’m going to let you walk out of here exhibiting symptoms like that. I know you hate me, Clif. And you don’t trust me, which is why I’ve called Doctor Evans for a consult.”

Clif frowned up at you, “Who the hell is Evans?”

“Chief Cardiologist.”

“Come on, man. Let Y/N check you over,” Jared begged.

Clif rolled his eyes but settled back with a grunt. “Have it your way, ya moose.”

It was amazing how agreeable people could be when they were scared and in pain. No matter your personal feelings towards him, you genuinely wanted him to be well. Tony McMillan had been right when he said healing was your calling. You couldn’t imagine denying help you knew you could provide.

Clif allowed you to conduct your examination and by the time Evans arrived, you had your diagnosis.

“Indigestion?! Are you kidding me?” Cliff bellowed at the two of you.

“The symptoms you experienced mimic those of a cardiac episode, but I have to agree with Doctor Baines’ assessment.” Evans was a mild-mannered man with the patience of a saint.

“Now, I would like to schedule you for a stress test just to rule out any potential for future attacks and start you on gastrointestinal friendly diet as soon as possible.”

The look of disgust on Clif’s face was comical. Low sodium, low fat, minimal red meat… a fate worse than death. You hid your smile as you headed for the door, “I’ll just go get your discharge papers started.”

“Hey, Nightingale.”

You turned your head and caught his grateful nod. For the first time, there wasn’t hostility in Clif’s eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Any time. Hard ass.”

Jared followed you out into the hallway, “Y/N, wait.”

You knew you weren’t off the hook that easily. “Just let me get that paperwork and you can take Clif home.”

Jared’s warm, hazel gaze met yours and he suddenly didn’t know what to say. A couple of months ago, he would have said he knew you well. That you were friends. Now, nothing felt certain.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “How have you been?”

“I’m well,” was your tight reply. “You? Gen and the kids?”

“Good! They’re good.”

You looked up at him and took pity. “Jared, why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

He hesitated for a second then blurted it out. “Do you still love him?”

The question rang out like a shot! The bluntness of it took your breath away. So much that you couldn’t even form the words. You crossed your arms over your middle and looked away.

“He still loves you, he never stopped.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Jared…”

“I know he screwed up and I know things are a mess. He’s a mess! He’s an absolute wreck without you.” Jared appealed to you in earnest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unsure what else was left to say.

“Just… give him a call, talk to him.”

“He knows where I am, Jared. If he wanted to contact me, he could have done so at any time.” You couldn’t help the hint of temper that reared up. “I’m not in hiding. Nor am I changing my name and fleeing the country.”

It was Jared’s turn to glance away, “Yeah, I heard about that.”

“Why would you want to bring someone like me back into your best friend’s life? I’m a con artist, remember? I sold my story to the press for a quick buck and five minutes of fame.”

“No, you didn’t. You would never do that.”

“I wish Jensen had the same faith in me that you do.”

“He does! And as for the rest of it, there is a reasonable explanation. We just haven’t found it.”

You sighed heavily, “If he did, then he would be here talking to me, not you.”

“He was a fucking idiot to let you walk away that night, and he’s still an idiot.” Jared paused, “You never answered my question… Do you still love him?”

“Gabby?”

Your wide eyes went to the man coming up behind Jared. “Dave, hi. This is my friend, Jared.”

Jared’s expression cooled immediately as he took measure of the man shaking his hand. Good looking with a tall, wiry build. He was sporting a lab coat like yours and a pair of neon Nikes. Dave smiled and Jared tightened his grip just enough to earn a satisfying wince from the man.

“Wow! That’s some handshake buddy! Gabs, I just wanted to make sure we were still on for the Green Room tonight.”

You felt your face heat up, “Yes, of course. I’ll see you there.”

Dave grinned a mouthful of perfect veneers as he turned to leave. “Sounds good, babe.”

“You’re seeing someone?”

You hated yourself for squirming at the question. “Not exactly. He’s been asking me for a while and I… wait! Why am I explaining this to you? I’m a normal, single adult engaging in a normal adult social life. Just like Jensen is.”

“If you’re talking about Danneel, that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Oh Jared, it doesn’t matter! What we had is gone now. And I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning it. At some point I’ve got to move on and so does he.”

Stubborn to the last, Jared pressed you again, “You didn’t answer…”

“Of course, I love him. How could I not?” Your voice cracked as you headed towards the nurse’s station, “I’ll get your paperwork.”

Jensen turned his coat collar up against the wind as he strode towards the Green Room Martini Lounge. In truth, it didn’t take much for Jared to convince him to seek you out. He’d pulled his phone out several times a day ever since he got back to Vancouver, his thumb hovering over your name. In the end, he just tortured himself by rereading your past texts and skimming through pictures.

He knew he fucked up and he had no idea how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure if you would want him to, and after the way he treated you, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you further. He wanted you to be happy, even if that meant you weren’t with him. His over-protective nature doubled down on his guilt and in the end, he knew you deserved better than him.

But when Jared told him that you still loved him, despite everything, he began to hope. Then he mentioned your upcoming date and that settled it. Jensen showered, shaved and booked it to the upscale club. It was close to your hospital, that was probably why the bastard picked it. If he cared to know you at all, he’d never take you there. You hated clubs, they were too loud and the crowded. You much preferred intimate conversations in private booths.

If this asshole booked a fucking booth, I’m going to lose it!

Jensen paid the cover fee and entered. It was dark and moody, with slim, green lights outlining the bar and tables. Hence the name, The Green Room. Heavy base music pumped out of the speakers and drowned out the sea of voices. It was absolutely packed, typical for a Friday night. He scanned the room and when he caught a glimpse of your hair shining in the dim light, his heart tripped.

You looked the same. Gorgeous. Your black sweater dress was off the shoulder and framed your delicate collarbones. You’d kept the blonde, it cascaded over your bare shoulders in waves and shone like a beacon. It was still too cold for bare legs, so where the short hem of your dress stopped, matching leggings took over and disappeared into boots.

Do you like my boots?

Jensen’s mind flashed briefly on you from the trip to the cabin. His determination cemented then. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you, but he wasn’t leaving without you. That was just a fact.

His approach slowed as he saw a man come to your side. You turned your attention to him, and Jensen guessed that was your date.

Fucking Doctor Sexy… Dave. Whatever the fuck his name is. Slick son of a bitch!

You weren’t saying much but the look on your face could be called polite. And slightly pained. Dave’s hand was on yours, then suddenly disappeared lower while his other arm wrapped around you. Dave leaned close to your ear, and you squirmed, recoiling slightly from his touch. Jensen couldn’t hear what you said, but he saw it plain as day. No.

Dave was an absolute disaster. He had six shots before you even arrived to meet him, and he was all hands. Seriously! The man was like an octopus, as soon as you got rid of one hand there was another one right behind it! When he excused himself to the men’s room, you called for an Uber, determined to make your excuses as soon as he got back.

“Come on babe, don’t go! We’re just getting started…”

“Dave, I’m just not up to it.”

His hand found your hip and squeezed as he pinned you up against the bar. “Don’t be like that, let’s have some fun!”

“Stop it,” you commanded, trying to get him to release you. “Let me go.”

Dave coiled his arm around you and held you so tightly it pinched. “You are not going anywhere until we get to know each other properly.”

You felt panic skate up your spine. It was a busy night and no one else was really paying attention, certainly not enough to notice that you were having a problem. And despite being completely wasted, Dave was strong and persistent. You were going to have to do something drastic if you wanted to convince him you were serious.

“Let go!” You stomped his foot hard, hoping it would prompt him to release you. Instead, he grabbed your wrist and twisted it painfully back.

“You bitch!” He spat and for a split second you were worried he was actually going to hit you. How the hell did this night go so sideways?

“Hey!”

Suddenly, you were free and stumbled backwards while Dave was on the ground clutching his jaw. Stunned, your wide eyes looked straight into those familiar, bottle green ones. You knew that you were gaping at him like an idiot but was literally the last person you expected to see there. One minute you were at risk for a black eye on a first date the next you were completely safe. And you knew you would be, you always were with him.

Jensen worriedly searched your face, “Are you alright?”

“Fuck! You broke my fucking jaw!”

You came out of your shock all at once. Now keenly aware that the three of you had caused such a disruption that everyone in the club was watching, including the bouncers. There was no time to wonder about the implications of Jensen’s presence. Without a second thought, you grabbed your coat and Jensen’s hand. You pushed your way through the people and out the door. Leaving your date bellowing on the floor.

The Uber you had the foresight to order was waiting at the curb. Heedless of the chaos swirling around you, you climbed in the backseat with Jensen and left the club and crowd behind.

You weren’t saying anything, and Jensen wasn’t sure what to make of it. You didn’t seem angry or upset. You didn’t seem happy either. In fact, you weren’t even looking at him. You stared out the window, with your leather coat folded on your lap. When the car finally pulled up in front of your building, you said a quiet thank you to the driver and got out.

Jensen followed, hoping that you would at least give him five minutes to talk to you before you kicked his ass to the curb.

You silently unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Jensen paused in the foyer; it was almost unrecognizable from the last time he had seen it. You painted the walls a deep green gray that both warmed and calmed. You had artwork, new furniture, a television, and entertainment center. Teak blinds offered privacy. It even smelled good, like vanilla and fresh linens. You’d made it a home and while he was pleased to know you weren’t living in a shoebox, he was worried by it. Why would you want to come home with him if you’d made a home here?

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll take a look at your hand.”

Jensen nodded as you disappeared into the bathroom. He sat on the sofa and found it comfortable. New as well. The whole apartment was inviting now, it didn’t feel sad or temporary. This was a place you’d want to stay.

When you came back, you’d removed your boots and had a first aid kit in your hands. You sat next to him on the couch and took his hand, examining the knuckles. Your touch was warm and reminiscent of better days spent together.

“Go ahead and wiggle your fingers for me.”

You watched the movements and tried not to be distracted by the freckles you saw scattered across his hand. Who knew you could miss something as tiny as freckles?

“Does that hurt?”

You hadn’t made eye contact with him until that moment and when you did, he was as struck as he was the first time. There was so much to say and yet no words seemed adequate.

“No.”

Satisfied, you took out alcohol swabs to clean the minor cuts and dabbed antibiotic ointment over them. You blew softly across his skin to dry it.

“Why were you at the club tonight?”

“For you.”

You placed a tiny bandage over the cut, again keeping your eyes on your work, “Why?”

“Jared, he ah… said he ran into at the hospital.”

“And he told you about my plans for the evening.” You looked up again, this time your eyes flashed with blue fire, hinting at temper bubbling under the surface. “You can keep your jealousy; I’ve had my fill of male posturing.”

“I wasn’t jealous!”

“I’ve been working at the same hospital and living in the same apartment for months. You made no move to contact me until I had a date and then you swoop in out of nowhere and punch him in the face! If that’s not jealousy, then what the hell is it?!”

“That’s me, dropping a douchebag who asked for it!”

“That’s me having the same poor judgement in men,” you grabbed the first aid kit and headed to the kitchen. “I hope your ego is satisfied because I don’t have any other dates scheduled.”

Jensen was hot on your heels, “Well next time try going out with a guy who knows the meaning of the word no!”

“Should I expect this kind of interference every time I attempt to have a personal life or only when you feel you have something to prove?”

“You’d rather I let that asshole assault you? You told him to stop, and he didn’t, I’m not going to apologize for stepping in. So, sweetheart if you wanna be pissed, then be pissed… cause I’d do it all again. In a heartbeat.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned fiercely. There was a time when that display of protectiveness would have made your heart swell. Tonight, it only served as a reminder of what had been lost.

You sighed as the fight drained out of you. You pulled down two glasses from the cupboard and filled each of them halfway with merlot.

“Is this what I can expect for the rest of my life? You show up once every few months to remind me of mistakes I didn’t know I was making and scare off any hope for normalcy?”

He took the glass you handed him. The pain he saw reflected in your eyes was just as raw as his own. He knew he was the cause and he hated himself for it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here, Jensen?”

“I wasn’t going to come,” he confessed. “Not cause I didn’t want to, because God knows I’ve picked up my phone every damn day just to hear your voice. But I’m the one who destroyed everything. I hurt you so damn bad and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I have some things to tell you so if you aren’t ready to throw me out just yet, will you give me a minute?”

You nodded mutely and sat down at the small café table under the kitchen window. Your heart had been so heavy for so long that the weight of it seemed unbearable. Now with him here, you felt both hopeful and terrified. You sipped your wine and waited.

“You know when Clif showed me those files there was a part of me that had been expecting it. Because being with you was just too good to be true, there was no way it could last. I’ve never been that happy before, I didn’t know what to do with it. It was easier to believe that it had all been a lie.”

He huffed out a breath, “I ran into Danneel when I was home.”

“I know,” you softy replied, and his eyes widened. “There was an article.”

“Where would we be without those articles?” He wondered aloud, taking a large swallow of wine. “She found me licking my wounds in a dive bar, suggested we give it another go. Get it right this time.”

“Did you consider it?”

“Not for a second. I had this voice in my head telling me I deserved better and for the first time I believed it. That’s why I’m here, Y/N. I couldn’t let you go on with the rest of your life not knowing the difference you made in mine.”

“Being married to her, I wasn’t even sure real love existed, certainly not for me. But you came along and proved her wrong, proved me wrong. I’m not going to settle for anything less, never again. You saved me, Y/N. Even if you never forgive me, even if you don’t love me any more… I just had to thank you.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you swallowed, not sure if you could trust your own voice. To your surprise, Jensen knelt in front of you and took your hands in his.

“I am so sorry I hurt you. There is nothing I can say that will ever make it right. I just want you to know that I love you. I’m never gonna stop loving you. I’ll do anything to make you happy and if that means I’m not a part of your life, then so be it. I’ll sleep well at night knowing that I’m giving you what you want.”

He was saying everything you wanted to hear, yet your heart was breaking. This beautiful man was at your feet, pledging his undying love. What more could you ask for? What more could anyone want in life?

I must be out of my mind.

Jensen watched as you stood and walked a few paces, turning your back to him. He’d lost you; it was already too late. God, he was never going to forgive himself!

“What about Miranda Tyler? Or Stephanie Jacobs?” You stomach twisted just saying those names aloud. “Rachael Scott… I still don’t have any answers for you.”

He got to his feet and shrugged helplessly, “I don’t care.”

“I do! It blew my world apart and there’s probably more. I don’t want to live in fear that another name is going to crop up and send you packing!”

He stood there, tall and true as always. Awaiting your command.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

You wanted everything to go back to how it had been before. You wanted to be oblivious to the truth, what little you had of it. You wanted to run away with him to your cabin and stay there forever, safe from the people trying to tear the two of your apart. You wanted something that didn’t exist anymore.

Your blue gaze looked away and he had his answer. He reached out and swiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, just as he had so many times before.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be alright.” He brushed a soft kiss over your forehead, “Goodbye.”

Jensen didn’t know where he found the strength to walk away from you, but love does crazy things to a man. He was prepared to gut himself to give you a peace that he would never know.

Just as he twisted the front doorknob and pulled, you slammed your hand against it.

“Stay.”

He stared at you; his heart laid bare, afraid to breathe. Praying to God he got a second chance he knew he didn’t deserve.

“Please stay. I want you to stay.”

You blinked back the tears and framed his face in your hands. “You. I want you. I want you…”

His mouth crashed down on yours and silenced any further confessions. You gasped as he groaned, hurried hands striping each other bare. Desperate longing. Needy passion, broken pieces, and jagged edges. Everything melded together and in the hours that followed the two of you found each other again. Your bodies conveying the truth where your words had failed.

You each gave what the other wanted, tomorrow would come the problem of how to keep it.

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part I

Summary: When Will asks him to pick Michael up from school, Spencer may or may not develop a schoolboy crush on the kindergarten teacher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Here she is! I’m not sure exactly what it is about Spencer Reid x teacher!reader, but it is my most requested fic topic, and I am happy to oblige! This is the first in a multi-part series. Weird is Good also takes place in this verse. Any teacher!reader requests will be folded into this verse as well, so feel free to continue sending me those!

Series Masterlist

Click here for the story mentioned, read by everybody’s fave Michelle Obama.

———

“A strong geographical profile is one of the most important pieces of the overall behavioral profile; it significantly narrows the area the team has to cover, allows for law enforcement teams to prioritize and maximize limited resources, and helps focus the investigation in conjunction with the other elements of the profile. And that wraps our section on building geographical profiles!” Spencer smiled at the faces in front of him, gesturing to the board. “The information we covered today will make up a significant portion of your midterm, so make sure to review it before next week. See you all next Thursday!”

As his students began packing up their things, Spencer’s phone rang from inside his bag. When he retrieved the phone and saw Will’s name on the caller ID, his brow furrowed in concern. “Will— everything ok?”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured him. “I’m sorry to ask, but JJ’s on a case, and my partner and I just finished our last call clear on the other side of the city. Henry’s got soccer practice, but Michael’s gotta be picked up in about— well, shit, right about now. Would you mind picking him up and bringing him ‘round to the house?”

Spencer looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder and started up the aisle out of the lecture hall. “Yeah, of course! It’s over by the Naval Observatory, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. If you pull ‘round the parking lot, they usually come out the side door. His teacher’s real sweet, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll let her know you’re picking him up.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Spencer pushed open the door and made his way down the hall.

“You’re the best,” Will drawled. “I’ll only be about half an hour.”

…

When Spencer pulled the baby blue Volvo into the parking lot of the school, he saw Michael and Ms. Y/L/N sitting on the steps of school. Their heads were so close they were almost touching, looking down at a book laying across their laps. Her legs were stretched out straight and she pointed down to the page, saying something that made Michael throw his little head back in a laugh that floated in through the open window of the car. Spencer grinned at the familiar sound as he pulled around the carpool loop.

When he recovered from the giggles, Michael caught sight of the car and waved his hand excitedly at Spencer. Ms. Y/L/N looked up and gave a wave as well, albeit a little less vigorous. She closed the book and turned her torso slightly to unzip Michael’s backpack and drop the book into it.

Spencer put the car in park, stepped out, and walked around the car to meet the two of them. Michael was already up and running, throwing himself at Spencer’s legs and hugging them tightly. He leaned down to return the hug. “Hey, buddy! How was school?”

“It was amazing,” Michael gushed, pulling out of the hug to gesture wildly. “We learned how to write the zzz sound, and now we know all the sounds! Oh, and then we used blocks in math, and that was so fun, because Ms. Y/L/N let us build with them when we were done counting. Oh, and then we learned about frogs, and they are so cool. Did you know that frogs have night vision? Oh, and Ms. Y/L/N said I could borrow my favorite book from the classroom library! She read it to me already while we were waiting for you, but maybe you could read it to me, too? I can read some of the words but not all of them yet, so I still need some help.”

Spencer smiled widely at him. “Wow, that does sound like an amazing day. I did know that about frogs, actually! And of course, I’d love to read with you.”

“The book’s called Giraffe Problems, and it’s about this giraffe named Edward who doesn’t like his neck.” Michael looked at Ms. Y/L/N. “What’s the turtle’s name again?”

“Cyrus,” Ms. Y/L/N reminded him.

“Right, Cyrus.” He looked at Spencer. “See, that one is tricky because c’s don’t usually make the sss sound, but sometimes they do. Ms. Y/L/N’s teaching me about it, even though she said it’s kinda hard for kindergarten.”

“Because you’ve got a big, powerful brain, right?” she said, tapping her temple and winking at Michael. “I’m Ms. Y/L/N, by the way. You must be the infamous uncle Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then she smiled at him and his big, powerful brain melted inside of his skull.

Michael continued talking, and Spencer briefly wondered if this is how people felt when he rambled. Michael lost his attention immediately, because all he could do was stare at Ms. Y/L/N. Her eyes glinted with humor as he chattered on. She followed his expressive motions with well-timed nods and mhmms, a skill she’d no doubt honed through years of indulging kindergarten babbling. She met Spencer’s eyes every so often, only a slight eyebrow raise indicating her amusement. Her hair had been tied back, but soft pieces had come loose throughout the day, falling into her face and around her shoulders. Up close, he could see that the print of her collared a-line dress was hundreds of green frogs. On her feet were a pair of beat up, low top converse, and Spencer thought he could physically feel the crush branding the chambers of his heart. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Michael’s hand tugging on his pant leg, and he looked down to see him looking up expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Spencer asked him.

“I said,” Michael repeated with a sigh, “can we look up the author and see if he has any other books?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course, buddy.”

“Jory John has lots of amazing books,” Ms. Y/L/N confirmed. “You’ll love the series he wrote with Pete Oswald.” She smiled at the pair of them before checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go pack up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.” She winked at Spencer, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “It was nice meeting you, uncle Spencer.” She waved again and then turned up the stairs to disappear into the building.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and then turned to Michael. “Well. All right, are you ready to go home?”

…

They were settled into the car and halfway home before Michael finally needed to take a breath. Spencer capitalized on the break in conversation.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N seems pretty cool,” Spencer hedged.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Michael confirmed with a nod. “On Fridays she lets us put on the smocks and paint. And she has really good story voices. Oh, and she also has these really cool blocks that stick together—magnet blocks. And when I fell off the jungle gym and got a big scrape, she gave me a Paw Patrol bandaid! And she gives great hugs.”

“Good story voices, huh?” Spencer met Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Better than mine?”

Michael tilted his head in deep thought. “Hmmmm. It’s pretty close. Your wizard voice is good, but she does accents.”

Spencer blew out a dramatic breath. “Guess I’m going to have to up my game.”

“You’re gonna have to practice a lot, because Ms. Y/L/N reads to us every day.” Michael raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Hey!” Spencer looked incredulous. “I read every day, too!”

“Yeah, but do you read with story voices every day?” Michael clarified.

Spencer sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“It’s okay, uncle Spencer,” Michael soothed. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

“So they are better than mine?”

Michael pressed his lips together, and Spencer almost laughed at how much he looked like JJ. “... maybe.”

…

A trail of shoes and school supplies led to the couch, where Spencer and Michael sat shoulder to shoulder. They were on their second read of Giraffe Problems. Spencer took a long, dramatic breath before launching into Cyrus’ banana speech, and Michael burst into a fit of giggles. With his best theatrical voice, Spencer read down the page. “Yet, day after day, I’ve felt like such a fool as I stretched my neck toward those greedy branches, only to be limited by my own physical shortcomings.” He flipped the page and changed his tone. “You… want a banana from a tree?” He looked at Michael and said, quickly and in a low voice, “That’s what I said, yes.” Michael wheezed out another laugh.

Spencer finished the story, Michael mouthing the words along with him. When they reached the last page, Spencer softly closed the book and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a pretty great story.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Ms. Y/L/N said she likes it because it reminds us that we gotta love ourselves and our bodies for how they are.”

Spencer nodded. “Absolutely. We’re all different, and that’s what makes us special.”

“Yeah. I just really like when he’s wearing all the scarves.” Michael burst into another fit of laughter, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The front door opened, and Will was smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the sidewalk.”

“Daddy!” Michael jumped up from the couch, and Will bent to scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. It sure sounds like you and uncle Spencer had fun, though.” He shot Spencer a wide smile.

“We read Giraffe Problems. Can we read it again later?” Michael asked.

“Sure thing. We can read it before bedtime.” Will set him down, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Giraffe Problems? Is that a new one?”

Michael shook his head. “Ms. Y/L/N let me borrow it from the library. I have to give it back in two weeks.”

“Man, Michael, you really lucked out, huh?” Will posited. “Ms. Y/L/N is so good to you.”

“Jeez, everybody’s saying that today,” Michael sighed. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N is amazing, we all know this.”

“All right, sass monster. I didn’t know uncle Spencer thought she was amazing, too.” Will grinned. “We gotta go pick up Henry in a few minutes. I’ll get you a snack, and you can pick up your things?” He gestured to the mess of shoes and school supplies in the foyer.

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “That’s probably my fault. We were just so excited to read the book.”

“Ah yeah, I know how he gets.” Will crossed to the kitchen. “A one track mind, that one. Thanks again for picking him up today.”

Spencer stood from the couch and followed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s no problem at all! I can do it any time.”

“Well, I don’t want to bother y—”

“It’s not a bother!” Spencer schooled his voice back into a normal register at Will’s raised eyebrow. “It—It’s not a bother at all. I, um— I have a lot of free time when I’m on sabbatical. Especially since I’m only teaching one course this semester. Plus, I love seeing the boys.”

“I’ll remember that.” Will smiled. “So… Ms. Y/L/N’s amazing, huh?”

Spencer just knew that his cheeks were as red as the apple Will was cutting up. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, she was— she was really nice.”

“She’s not bad looking, either,” Will supplied. When Spencer’s mouth fell open, Will continued, “What? JJ thinks so, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t even look, because I know that’s a lie.”

Spencer sputtered, “I— well, I—”

“Daddy, can we get an ice-cream on the way home?” Michael interrupted, completely unfazed.

Will laughed. “Saved by the bell, uncle Spencer. Yeah, buddy, we can get ice-cream.”

…

“It’s not weird to look her up. I just want to know more about the person who’s educating my godson,” Spencer tried to reassure himself as he pulled up the school’s website. He scrolled to find the teacher pages, a little smile crossing his face when he saw Ms. Y/L/N’s picture— white ruffled shirt, red bow, and black hat. A perfect tribute to Mary Poppins.

He dropped his smile. “She barely said five sentences to you, and you didn’t say anything back.” His eyes wandered over the links on the side, landing on the About Me section. “But she did say she’d heard a lot about you, so it’s only fair that you get to know a little about her.” Against his better judgment, he clicked the page link. A photo of Ms. Y/L/N— grinning and holding a very distraught-looking black cat— popped up on the screen, and Spencer laughed aloud.

I grew up on a farm outside of Fayetteville, NC before moving to Boston to complete my undergraduate degree. I moved to DC to earn my Master’s in Early Childhood Education, and I have been teaching here for 8 years! I love working with young learners, because children grow so much in their foundational years. Watching a child have a lightbulb moment is one of my greatest joys. When I'm not in the classroom, I love to read, travel, play scrabble, and spend time with my cat Roald (pronounced Roo-all)!

Spencer scrolled through the pictures of Ms. Y/L/N and her students. There were pictures in their “smocks,” which Spencer discovered were really just old t-shirts. There was one of her in the middle of some very animated story telling, and another of a field trip to the zoo. In each one, the smiles beamed out through the computer screen in a digital portrait of unbridled joy, contagious even over the waves of the internet. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the tab labeled Teaching Philosophy.

I believe that every child is an extraordinary and essential piece of our classroom puzzle. In order to nurture the unique individuality of each of my students, I work hard to make our classroom a safe, positive, and supportive community where students are given the space to express themselves. Our classroom culture is also one of kindness and creativity, where each individual is valued and celebrated for who they are!

Spencer swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat as he thought back on his own school career. While his teachers had always appreciated his intelligence, he honestly couldn’t recall a moment where he had felt valued for just… being himself. The majority of his time in school had been spent unsuccessfully fending off bullies, completing other students’ homework, or being gawked at like some sort of alien. He was grateful that Michael would hopefully never go through anything like what he’d experienced; at least not while Ms. Y/L/N was around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned back in the desk chair to pull it out. He swiped it open to read the incoming text.

JJ: So......... you like Ms. Y/L/N, huh? 😉😉😉

Spencer: What?! Did Will tell you that? I didn’t say that.

JJ: Some things you don’t have to say out loud, Spence.

———

Tags: @spacedikut

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

[froggysoup]

wowee

Alrighty I’m just gonna ramble on about my thoughts on the new quest (and things in general because I talk too much) and pray that at least some of it ends up coherent. Spoilers, by the way.

I’ve had this first theory since the last archon quest but got nervous and didn’t share, so here it is now. Maybe it’s an obvious thing that I’m just in the dark about, but I’m fairly sure that Dainsleif’s “Boughkeeper” title has a large part in explaining why he knows so much about things he really shouldn’t. From the newest quest, we learn that he is actually cursed with immortality, which could explain some it, but the guy still knows too much for it to simply be chalked up to his age. He’s literally the designated narrator for half of the official videos and knows a lot about what and who he talks about.

I suspect that the ley lines serve as an information network of some sort, and that Dainsleif’s position as Boughkeeper allows him access to it in one way or another. The only other places we really see the whole tree/branch thing is with the ley line branches, Irminsul trees, the Frostbearing Tree, and the tree who once had roots that spanned the whole continent (which we know the ley line branches were once directly a part of), all of which are connected in a way that I haven’t quite figured out yet. 

Now, from those screens that come up while the game is loading, we know that supposedly, the intertwined roots of the Irminsul trees far beneath the earth determine the pattern of the ley lines above, and we also know that ley lines are a “mysterious network that links the whole world together” and that they are said to remember everything that happens in the world. From this, I don’t think it’d be that much of a reach to say that Dainsleif can access that somehow.

Next. I do think there’s a pretty good chance that the Archons were involved in the destruction of Khaenri’ah. The Viridescent Venerer set actually tells us how the former Dendro Archon died during the cataclysm while in Khaenri’ah, which. Uh. That’s kind of really incriminating. 

However! Obviously, we’ve only heard this from Dainsleif’s point of view and he’s pretty biased considering his whole thing. We don’t know how much control Celestia has over the Archons’ actions, either, and I’m about 98% sure that some of them weren’t into it, and likely didn't even have a choice. Like, look at the Tsaritsa. Her whole thing is that sometime during the cataclysm, she witnessed something so view-shattering and unjust that her whole thing now is to “burn away the old world” and overthrow Celestia. 

I also can’t see Venti and Zhongli going along with the destruction of an entire nation with no hesitation. Like, obviously, again, Dainsleif is going to be biased, but from what we’ve been told Khaenri’ah didn’t even do anything divine-retribution-worthy. Celestia just seems be into dropping skyscraper-sized pillars and other things onto nations who get too good at being independent, for whatever reason. The new quest is definitely supposed to make us question the current systems of this world but I don’t think we’re meant to hate Venti or Zhongli, at least yet. I think they’re even kind of meant to be seen as the “best” out of the Archons, so to speak. (Not that I think they’re perfect, by any means.)

Like, just look at the way they’ve been presented to us, versus how some of the other Archons have been introduced (Storyline Trailer, my beloved). 

Raiden Shogun is made out to be some self-absorbed divine ass-kisser who doesn’t have humanity’s best interests at heart (which we know is supposed to be a thing you do as an Archon). She’s doing her whole confiscating visions and oppressive rule thing in an effort to be seen as more divine, but, as Dainsleif puts it, “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god?”

The Dendro Archon/God of Wisdom is implied to not actually be as smart as somebody with that title is supposed to be, one way or another, and either has turned a blind eye to or blatantly encourages the “push for folly” in Sumeru. Can’t tell exactly what that would mean or entail (thanks, Dainsleif), but obviously. Doesn’t sound good.

Dainsleif says of the Hydro Archon that she “lives for the spectacle of the courtroom, seeking to judge all other gods. But even she knows not to make an enemy of the divine.” While the not making an enemy of the divine thing I get (I guess, coward), the whole “seeking to judge all other gods” bit seems very “remove the log from your own eye”-y. Like, you’re an Archon, too, what are you trying to prove here?

The Tsaritsa is- well, the Tsaritsa, as we know. While I do think we are meant to sympathize and agree with at least part of her core ideals and motives, she still is the one behind the Fatui and is, by extension, a war criminal. She also apparently has “no love left for her people”. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship that we have with her.

The only ones who Dainsleif does not directly slander in the trailer are Venti, Zhongli, and Murata. While I don’t think we have enough on her to come to any conclusions about her character yet, Venti does say of her that she is a “wayward, war-mongering wretch”. Now, he does also jab at Rex Lapis during this voiceline, but unlike with Murata we know that those two are buddy-buddy and it was very likely that it was “buffoon (affectionate)”.

Venti and Zhongli are also the first two Archons we encounter, which is important for multiple reasons.

Gonna derail for a bit because I don’t know where to start. But. The game very likely will (or at least should) end with no Archons.

Obviously, especially in light of the new quest (although this stuff has been floating around since the Dragonspine update and even before that), Celestia Bad. Like, cataclysmically bad (lmao). In fact, I’m highly certain that you could trace basically every problem in this game back to them, some way or another.

Even our main “villain” groups all seem to be gunning for Celestia. The Fatui obviously work for the Tsaritsa, who’s made it very clear that she plans to rebel against the divine. The Abyss Order, too, has their Deeply Upsetting plan of creating a mechanized god with the power to “topple the divine thrones of Celestia”.

Evidence points to an overthrow of Celestia at some point in the game, and considering how being an Archon or even a god is directly tied to Celestia, yeah. No more Celestia means no more Archons.

But even besides that, there’s a lot there to suggest that that’s where things are going.

I find it interesting how Mondstadt’s our prologue chapter, or that there’s even a prologue chapter of the game at all. Prologues are meant to set up ideas that will be present throughout the rest of the story, and Mondstadt does exactly that. Venti’s let the people of Mondstadt govern themselves and has almost completely been out of the equation for millennia, even if that means he is significantly weaker than his godly peers. When asked why he chose to do that instead of remain in charge and just give them freedom, Venti responds that “freedom, if demanded of you by an archon, is really no freedom at all.” This sentiment is also brought up in the Mondstadt portion of the storyline trailer, and the traveler even has a whole voiceline debating what Venti really meant when he said that.

This idea of freedom and that humanity is capable on its own is further reinforced in Chapter 1, in which Liyue learns to move on from the death of its Archon. Zhongli set up his plan with the intention of testing if his people could stand on their own legs without him there to guide them, and they do. He even expresses how pleasantly surprised he is that the Qixing were able to take advantage of the situation and seize control like they did. Keqing gives us this whole speech when we first meet her about how the adepti and gods underestimate humanity’s capability and how Liyue’s future is meant to be a godless one. This, in a way, extends to the rest of the continent as well.

In the storyline trailer (which I quote too often, I’m sorry. My favorite and only party trick is that I got bored one day and memorized the whole thing), Dainsleif spends the entire Khaenri’ah section musing about something similar. 

“In the perpetual meantime of a sheltered eternity, most are content to live and not to dream. But in the hidden corner where the gods’ gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming,” is obviously about the people of Teyvat vs. those in Khaenri’ah. While a future under the care of the Archons is a safe and reliable one, is it one that allows humanity to chase its potential to the fullest? Khaenri’ah was destroyed for flourishing like it did without gods, both as a punishment and a warning to everybody else.

“Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity.” This is in reference to visions. Throughout the game, this idea that, at least in the eyes of the gods, vision holders are more important than those without them, is constantly brought up.

In the commission “Leaves on the Wind”, Dr. Edith expresses how it often seems as if vision holders are the main characters of this world. From the notebooks we receive during the “Time and Wind” world quest, we learn that the Sumeru Academia actually discourages non-vision holders from conducting outdoor surveys, and how “these days... trying to be an academic when you don't have a Vision, it's really restricting...” Dainsleif even just straight up asks us what we think the gods think of vision holders and people in general during question time in that one quest.

In Lisa’s stories, we learn that the reason for her laziness is that a part of her is afraid of learning or doing too much, after witnessing what “uninhibited erudition” can do to people during her time in Sumeru. She also senses that something beneath the surface is happening regarding the distribution of visions. “For whatever reasons, the gods gave humans the key to changing everything, but they did not explain the cost involved. Lisa grew fearful of the truth.”

I forgot exactly where I was going with that last paragraph, but yeah. There’s definitely sketchy shit going on behind the scenes in regards to visions, possibly to keep people either quiet or complacent. I suspect it may even be to restrict access to certain knowledges or even the elements themselves. Anyways.

I lose track of my thoughts too often. Fuck. Right. Mondstadt and Liyue served as good examples of society under the rule of the Archons, and in Chapter 2 we will encounter our first bad example, showing us the pros and cons of the current situation. However, despite Zhongli and Venti seeming to genuinely care for their people, humanity’s wellbeing shouldn’t be reliant on how their god is feeling that day, and they shouldn’t have to look to the gods for a chance to become something greater than themselves, either.

Um. All that’s to say I’m just very excited to see where the story will go, and if Zhongli’s contract with the Tsaritsa is any indication then it’s gonna go somewhere good. Celestia bad, Archons bad but also not bad but also bad, I don’t know if what I just wrote actually even counts as understandable, thank you and good night.

[1ddotdhq]

Wed 10 Feb ‘21

Defenseless is back at #13 for the Spotify viral 50 charts and DJ Mike Adams was CELEBRATING (as we all were!). Bebe Rhexa promised to give the gays “everything they want”, and fans quickly went “another Louis collab?” (honestly that IS all everyone wants) “I wish I fuckin could” she says, with one of those crying emojis, and man if thats not a MOOD I don’t know what is!!

Liam’s weekly FIFA podcast is apparently not happening this week; he instead put out a ‘greatest hits’ mashup of his previous episodes, which play the “best moments from the series so far” (a pretty short look back, considering that there are only 4 episodes of the show). Hmmm, you know what, actually, would it be cool if we did a ‘best of Discourse’ that might be fun I should get on that.

Meanwhile, in whatever the hell Harry has going on, we circle back around to that goddamn ‘feeding a fan’s fish’ picture because time is a FLAT CIRCLE. What we see is people going crazy because someone capitalized on gossip (started by Deuxmoi who have been thoroughly discredited as an actual source of information at this point even without this nonsense) that she was Harry’s “fuck buddy” by… buying a completely new ‘if you ain’t a fisherman you ain’t SHIT’ hat and trying to pass it off as his ratty old one. Deuxmoi claimed that his FWB took the picture. Umm, no? The photographer was Sonya Jasinski who has worked with Kacey Musgraves before, and was apparently vacationing with Nicole Branch (who is the sister of a singer/songwriter who ALSO has worked with Kacey), as well as a group of other friends over the summer. Sonya originally credited the photo to Nicole, but that has since been removed. Sonya is a professional photographer and the picture is still up on her own instagram. The picture was taken at the 13 year old fan’s bedroom (who’s family seems to be friends with Sonya), and Harry was dressed in head to toe Gucci when the pic was taken. So, as it stands, H stopped by the house of people he KNEW, met Mr. Dad (or whatever his last name is- his preteen daughter told us he got her stuff signed for her), and Sonya, and Nicole, got his pic taken in the fan’s room by either woman, and signed a bunch of merch. Deuxmoi can claim this was a booty call all they like, but if so it was -crowded- and please let this be the last time we - or anyone - has to talk about this ridiculous situation! Nicole isn’t the only one linking herself to Harry through headgear though - Olivia Wilde posted a pic (old) yesterday of herself in a pink La Ligne hat, ie the same as the one Harry was wearing for the one time only Holivia pap pic fest, and she ALSO got something signed by him for someone (Discourse: “please sign this titty for me Harry”) , though we know they see each other at work every day so hopefully we can skip the complicated discourse about the signing of that. Oh what no? People think it Means something? Sigh

[darlington-v]

I know different interpretations of a work are generally enriching and cool... but c!dream villan interpretations is like how to tell me you only watch Tommy without saying you only watch tommy.... which would be fine but its not a great place to be making statements about the whole nature of the dsmp lol

Wild speculation, but sometimes I wonder if like, because the dsmp didn't really start as a narrative, and a lot of fans don't nessecarily enter it expecting a narrative, but then there is one and the fandom is really discourse heavy and everyone is sort of excpeted to have an opinion while maybe not expecting to form one from the begining or not having a ton of experience with narrative in a way that would "expect" them to have an opinion or not take things at face value??, I don't know if I explained that well at all... and I don't really even think thats right nessecarily... but like wow sometimes some of the takes about power and government and villany...

Honestly, it makes sense!!!

I think something interesting is like.... looking at how animatics have shaped the like tone and culture of the fandom essentially. Like, an interesting fact that I didn't really fully grasp until SUPER recently is like...

c!Wilbur out the gate admits he is manipulating c!Tommy. Like his first youtube video on the Dream SMP he admits his goal is to manipulate c!Tommy and people like c!Tommy into helping him achieve a potion ("drug") empire to monopolize on potions because there were a lot of people on the server who like to min-max, which is to put all of your effort into this one specific skill essentially. so like... i know minecraft doesnt have a skill tree but if it did, it would be putting all your points into that one specific branch of a skill tree. So he wanted to exploit the labor of all the TommyInnits to.... maintain a Potion Empire.

THIS IS A LONG POST BC I GOT CARRIED AWAY SO BUCKLE UP

And I don't think a lot of the fandom who joined later on knows this. I certainly didn't until like a week or so ago? Like... I knew c!Wilbur had been manipulative from the start because I'm a mod of (shameless self promo incoming) @dsmpanalysis and we have a lot of different POVs in that mod team and discord and we talk about it really frequently. I joined the fandom as someone who was really big on L'manburg ESPECIALLY crimeboys, and have turned into.... *gestures vaguely to my blog*

And ngl I owe a lot of it to @1-michibiki-1 in terms of c!Dream "Apologism" but all of the mods there have expanded my thoughts and views on the storylines of this narrative.

My application consisted of like largely essays about like... how I think Dream was the villain but he was meant to be the villain because you don't get any insight into his character WHICH.... IS A FAIR ASSUMPTION AT FIRST GLANCE. People are easily villainized when you cannot get a glimpse into their thought process. It's easy to dwindle someone down into this flat character and starting out I knew Dream didn't stream the SMP on purpose.

And I personally came to the conclusion of "Oh! So Dream is supposed to be the villain." However as the story continued and I learned more about what Dream went through I began to realize that... it's more than likely a form of a red herring. My opinions on this were immediately solidified when I watched Ranboo's 2 MIL stream because both Ranboo AND Dream agree on enjoying red herrings.

There have been MANY times were Dream has said that c!Dream is a complex character and he's not a wholly evil guy and there have been times where the narrative has honestly just proved that.

Anyways, what's important though was that... I learned most of this from other people who were more focused on c!Dream rather than myself. Eventually I shifted from c!Tommy to c!Ranboo and c!Techno after c!Tommy betrayed c!Techno and I began to realize.... everything I learned before hopping in wasn't exactly what it seemed.

Part of this is because I'm older, I heavily identify with c!Techno's sense of loyalty and philosophies on government, but I especially identify with the anguish c!Techno voiced in... a lot of lore but especially the lore around Doomsday.

I'm not 16 anymore. I don't always feel wronged by adults, or older people in my case, whenever they absolutely have done something wrong by me, but I do feel wronged by my close friends. I also felt like c!Tommy's sense of loyalty didn't line up with mine after what felt like him constantly flip-flopping and refusing to understand c!Techno's morals on government didn't line up with his.

In short, it was easier to identify with Tommy in these animatics versus in the actual stream content because c!Tommy is played by a 16 year old. I'm not a teenager and my line of thinking doesn't entirely line up with people that age anymore. It's harder to place myself in the same shoes of someone's OC who is played closer to their actual age, because I'm not that age.

Regardless, I was still on the c!Dream is a villain train. I wasn't ever like... c!Dream is repulsive I hate him, but I was like omg hot villain lad go brrr.

Even when the first like... mellohi, panic room, Ranboo lore stream popped up I thought "Oh! c!Ranboo corruption arc?"

And I was excited because I really wanted this shy, nervous character to turn into villain buddies with his good pal c!Dream. I'm a total sucker for villains and corruption arcs and all that good shit.

SO I STARTED GETTING REALLY INTERESTED IN ENDERSMILE. I'VE BEEN ON ENDERSMILE SQUAD OUT THE GATE. NOT THE SAME WAY I AM NOW, BUT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED THEM TO TEAM UP.

So... upon not really keeping up with c!Dream and being relatively??? indifferent? I don't think I started arguments on c!Dream back then, but I might have. But I remember like... starting to participate more whenever c!Dream came up and looking more into Dream's character BUT ESPECIALLY TALKING WITH OUR SERVER'S C!DREAM SPECIALIST MICHI ABOUT DREAM A LOT MORE.

And because Michi has been a watcher since day one and was a DTeam fan rather than a SBI fan, she was able to provide me with more information on how the server worked pre-Tommy but especially pre-Wilbur.

Now, you could definitely argue well Michi probably has clear bias but it made sense to me when I looked back on how the storyline had been constructed and was going along, and everyone in the server talks a lot about our own biases and how we want people to maybe not lean so hard on them. Michi would also provide like anecdotes on what had happened and I'm sure links were probably provided at one point but the point was I felt like Michi had no reason to lie or manipulate how the story was told and if she did, eventually someone would have pointed it out because... Group of like... right now it's around 20 or more analysts but I don't remember how many at the time there were. POINT BEING, WE'VE ALL GOT POINTS TO PROVE AND IN MY EXPERIENCE NOT MANY OF US HAVE BEEN SHY TO PROVE THEM.

So if anyone ever had any differing opinions they would be talked about and we literally had and still have discussions.

REGARDLESS.... I DIDN'T FACT CHECK IN DEPTH BECAUSE I THOUGHT PEER REVIEW WAS ENOUGH WHEN YOU HAVE LIKE HOURS UPON HOURS OF STREAMS TO WATCH.

Anyways. Eventually I started paying closer attention and looking more into c!Dream lore but only recently have I started to triple check before speaking about c!Wilbur lore because I know everyone has biases and while I did trust everyone's thoughts and analysis in the discord, whenever I make essays I typically like it to be largely air tight and if theres a mistake, I want it to be because I forgot not because I just trusted what was said. Plus, I wanted to get down to the specifics of how Wilbur had always started with manipulation on the mind.

SO I WATCHED HIS FIRST VIDEO ON THE DREAM SMP.

AND WHAT I WAS NOT BY ANY MEANS EXPECTING WAS WILBUR TO SAY WORD FOR WORD, VERBATIM,

"SO WHY DON'T I START AN INDUSTRY WHERE I USE THE TOMMYINNITS OF THE WORLD TO WORK FOR ME, TO CREATE THINGS THAT THE MIN-MAXERS OF THE WORLD WILL WANT."

Like... this is in no way an attempt to like hardcore villainize c!Wilbur like everyone does Dream, it's just more so to like REALLY outline how far off a lot of fandom interpretation of c!Wilbur is....

Because of SBI focused animatics.

Now, when I joined I watched A LOT of animatics that really highlighted like... Wilbur being this self-loathing JD-esque, "I destroyed it because I had to because the world was against me because no one loved us, Tommy" type of character. At least... that's what it came across as.

And it definitely highlighted the fact that Tommy was a victim, which he is. He is undoubtedly a victim and no not even any dream apologist can change my mind otherwise. Tommy, despite being an instigator sometimes, didn't deserve the abuse he received.

But these animatics never shown the fact that c!Wilbur started L'manburg as a shady ploy to exploit people like c!Tommy and vilify c!Dream so he could have power.

And that was easy because Dream and Tommy had wars before. They had spars and pranks and here's the plan to take back my disks and here's the plan to out smart the thieving little child etc etc.

And all of the animatics I watched never mentioned this. Neither did the recaps though. The recaps gave the events flat out, there didn't sound like there was bias, and honestly I don't really know if there was rather than like... a lack of nuance. And it's hard to provide a recap with that much nuance in a short period of time for a youtube video, to be perfectly fair.

However, this creates a perfect formula for entirely rewriting the history of a server. c!Wilbur quite literally fucking succeeded TO A META LEVEL. He slandered and ran smear campaigns against Dream and like he even does that with Sapnap in the beginning. But what's crazy is that it transferred over into the meta! Most of this fandom understands Wilbur as a victim of mental illness, and yeah maybe? He definitely wasn't mentally well by the end of pogtopia, but he never started out with honorable intentions. L'manburg was never a victim, only its citizens. The TommyInnits of the world.

I just think it's like... such an interesting case study. Because this is like... an opinion like shared by at least half of the fandom, but the vilifying of c!Dream is shared by MOST of the fandom I would argue. Which is like even more crazy for me because that was c!Wilbur's goal!!!

LIKE I GO INSANE WHEN I THINK OF THIS BECAUSE HIS REACH IS JUST TOO POWERFUL. HE'S NOT EVEN ENTIRELY REAL, JUST A MANIPULATIVE PERSONA OF SOME BRITISH GUY.

And I mean... maybe people who have watched Wilbur's video on the SMP still maintain this idea that Wilbur wasn't always the bad guy, but honestly... I wouldn't be surprised if their introduction was still an animatic. Like bias is hard to check and I'm not going to lie I could have sworn I watched both Wilbur's AND Tommy's video on the SMP in the beginning and yet I STILL was a ride or die for tragic yet on some level still honorable Wilbur and a resilient Tommy.

Like... upon watching Wilbur's first video... possibly again I was surprised because I thought I did watch it like right before I even started watching the streams and yet I was still so invested in c!Wilbur as this tortured anti-hero.

It took 6 months of... not being in an echo chamber, full of multiple different people of different ages, different stream POVS, and people who joined the fandom at different points in time.

IDK IF THIS WAS EVEN ENTIRELY RELEVANT IT JUST FELT TANGENTIALLY RELEVANT AND THIS WAS SOMETHING I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT FOR A HOT MINUTE AFTER LIKE WATCHING WILBUR'S FIRST VIDEO AGAIN.

TLDR;

SBI CENTRIC ANIMATICS HAD A LASTING AFFECT ON THIS FANDOM AS IT'S HARD TO GO BACK AND ACTUALLY CHECK THE NARRATIVE FOR SOLID FACTS FOR YOUR OWN INTERPRETATION BASED ON THE FACT THAT THIS NARRATIVE SPANS OVER HUNDREDS OF HOURS WORTH OF TWITCH STREAMS.

[mrpenguinpants]

Ok like I know this is your third compliment but I'm so glad you're writing for this fandom. All your ideas are so creative and developed that none of it felt so OOC. If you can, what about angst HCs from Kaeya and Diluc. Since theyre so head to head against each other, imagine if they were in love with someone but was with their brother. Now they have to watch Kaeya/Diluc with their s/o while suffering from the sidelines ;w;

Ahh you’re all so lovely 💕 Don’t be shy to just say anything I promise I’m not scary. Your compliments makes me feel more confident ;u; I just finished diluc’s and kaeya’s hc of being jealous so I’m lowkey branching of my last hc point for both of those posts. Took a bit of a different style this time and I might have went a little too deep aha. 

Spoiler’s for Diluc’s and Kaeya’s character stories and past (but you should really read Kaeya’s story) 

---

Diluc and Kaeya: Falling for their brother’s s/o 

You had told him when it was late at night in the tavern. For the better half of a couple months, you’ve been dropping by around late afternoon asking if you could keep him company and help out since he’s been so busy during the day, and Diluc would never say no to that. It was a passing comment you made as you said goodbye to him as you opened the door to head out.  

You wanted to keep your relationship a secret from the public? Felt it was wrong to not tell him since you were dating his brother? Had you not noticed that he was in love with you for months? 

He smiles and bares it, nodding goodbye as you leave, just until that door closes and he’s left alone. He slowly unclenches his fists from under the counter as the weight in his chest gets heavier. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The last time was when his father passed away. 

A part of him feels ashamed that he let himself get so close to you even though at the time, he had no idea you were actually in love with his brother. He hadn’t even seen you talk to Kaeya once since knowing you but to be fair, he doesn’t involve himself in Kaeya’s affairs unless it’s to protect Mondstadt. 

But as he reflects in the empty tavern, he doesn’t regret meeting you and becoming close friends. It’s not your fault, you were in love with someone else. He should be happy for you and Kaeya. 

He wants to protect the things that he treasures most. When his father passed away he lost the faith in both the gods and the knights of Favonius. He doesn’t want to push you away and lose what he still has because of his actions or behaviour. 

In the beginning, he becomes bitter to Kaeya. Before he might have humored Kaeya’s antics and random drop ins but now all he feels is rejection and this weight he can’t get rid of that start’s clawing at him whenever he sees his brother. The first time Kaeya made eye contact with him after you had told him about your relationship, he simply had a wry smile stating that he hadn’t seen Diluc’s eyes like that since he defected from being a knight. 

He doesn’t hate Kaeya or think Kaeya stole you away from him. Kaeya protects Mondstadt in the day while he does in the night. That’s how they’ve always been. When he sees you out with Kaeya in the morning he stares longingly before quickly disappearing out of sight. 

When his father passed away, Diluc's took a journey that lasted for three years. He had a lot of time to reflect on his past and the anger he had carried until he acknowledged his shortcomings. Those years away let him leave his childish immaturity and when he returned to Mondstadt, he was ready to take on his father’s will one more time. He’s been through this process once before and he’ll push himself to do it again. 

That doesn’t mean that his feelings for you will immediately leave him but he’ll learn to move on and treasure you as a friend, that you’re still in his life. There might be some days when he’s alone that he might think of the what if’s but he’ll take a deep breath, know that you’re happy, and the weight will settle down and become lighter. 

You were friends with Kaeya before you officially met Diluc. You and Kaeya had bonded over drinks and soon became drinking buddies. At first you had been a bit wary of him since he was the Cavalry Captain and thought you had done something wrong, but he really was just interested in talking since he heard you also disliked grape juice. 

Naturally, that meant that he would drop by the tavern with you and one day, Diluc happened to be there and he thought he might officially introduce you two. Maybe poke some fun at Diluc and his distant personality.  

Overtime Kaeya finds that he looks forward to your outings. Hunters and bandits are often his drinking buddies but he’s there to smooth talk them until they end up telling him everything he wants to know. But you’re not a bandit or some spy, he can let his guard down around you and just have a normal conversation without ulterior motives. It feels...nice and he let’s himself slowly relax until he ends up tripping along the way and finds himself falling. 

That is until he makes an unprompted visit to see Diluc only to find that you’re there too. He takes one look at the scene and turns around. He remembers when they were younger and how people would say they were almost like twins, knowing each other’s thoughts and intentions without having to say a word to each other. 

He think’s its some cruel joke you’re playing or maybe the Gods are cursing him over his methods. As he walks down the streets of Mondstadt, he wants to rationalize that the only reason you were so kind to him was to get closer to Diluc. Or maybe you actually were a spy? He’ll laugh to himself for thinking of such a thing as he replays the same scene in his head over and over. 

Everyone's got a secret, but not everyone knows what to do with it, he had told you this with his usual arrogant smirk one night. You were confused at his implication before he shift’s his gaze to where Diluc is. Diluc quickly turns away when you turn your head in his direction. He watches amused as you sputter about how you do not need his help with setting you up with his brother. 

On the contrary, he actually enjoys putting people into the difficult position of making tough decisions. He won’t lie and say that he hasn’t given you false information just to see you come back embarrassed. In a way, these moments are a way for him to slowly let go of his feelings by helping you get yours across. 

Diluc is direct so he’s not surprised when his brother cut’s right to the point early in the morning and asking what he’s trying to do. As Diluc’s hard stare attempts to drill into him for answer’s he thinks back on that same scene. Diluc had looked calm and in a state of content. Peaceful happiness. It’s the same feeling he has when he’s with you. 

He thinks back to another scene. It was the first and only time Kaeya failed in his duty. By the time Kaeya finally reached Diluc, it was all already over. Their father was dead and killed by his own son. 

Kaeya’s own biological father had abandoned him and it was Diluc’s father and Mondstadt that had welcomed him with open arms when he had nowhere else to go. 

Kaeya just smiles at Diluc and remarks in his typical cryptic manner that there will be a time where he won’t know where to stand. He doesn’t know when that time will come but he’ll think of you and where he would want you to be. So until that day comes, he’ll do everything he can to guarantee your safety. He can tell Diluc wants to say something but he holds back. 

To be the first yet placed second, he thinks when you come running up to him to thank him for all his help. He can see Diluc off to the side silently watching and ready to step in and he thinks of the possibilities of what he could do in that moment. Maybe he could confess that he’s been secretly in love with you before you even met Diluc? 

Instead he holds back and repays the favour from earlier in the day. He congratulates you and invites you out to drink in celebration of your new relationship. 

[babbushka]

Wreck The Malls: Flip Zimmerman and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

6.2k ; cw: mentions of gun violence, blood and injury ; NSFW (shower sex, injured sex, PIV, oral sex)

Available on AO3

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

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. But it is also universally acknowledged, that a lucky man in possession of a good wife, should want to get her something special for the holidays.

This is the story of how one Detective Flip Zimmerman of the CSPD, goes on a journey through hell and back to obtain such a gift, and might just learn the true meaning of Christmas along the way.

Now, though this story takes place on Christmas Eve, it should be noted that our Mr. Zimmerman does not actually like Christmas. He doesn’t celebrate it, and he thinks the entire holiday is one big headache. Does it bother him that his own holidays always seem to be overlooked in favor for the goyishe celebrations of December? Yes – but that’s not the reason he dislikes it so much. If you were to ask him, he would say something akin to;

“I just don’t know why the fuck everyone makes such a big goddamn deal.” He huffs and puffs on his cigarette in the parking lot. Flip rolls his eyes, “All month long, stores have been playing this shit music since the day after Thanksgiving.”

Sitting in his car with Ron – the only one of his friends patient enough to listen to him complain for an hour straight – Flip turns the radio down just low enough for Jingle Bell Rock to sound. They’re outside the big mall, something shiny and brand new, just in the nick of time for the holidays. Ron shrugs, going over his last-minute shopping list.

“We can go home, no one will know.” Ron points out for what must seem like the eighteenth time.

Flip had asked Ron to accompany him both for emotional support, but also to get a second opinion on the gift he was picking up for you. Flip loves you more than anything else in the entire world – yes, even more than his buc-wheat cereal and Greek yogurt – and even though you had already exchanged presents during Hanukkah only a few days prior, that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Of course we can’t go home, I want to get her something nice.” He says as much, flicking the ash of his cigarette out of the car window, the oppressive commercialism of the mall looming ahead.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like Christmas either though.” Ever the practical voice of reason, Ron tries giving Flip one more out, one more chance to turn back now, “You don’t have to put yourself through this, you know.”

“It’s not a Christmas present,” Flip shakes his head, finally turning the car engine off entirely, and silencing the radio once and for all. He steels himself, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror, “It’s a just-because present. I already have it all picked out and everything, I just need to go in and pay for it.”  

“You’ve got some real brains underneath those flowing locks of yours man.” Ron smiles, gets out of the car and stretches out his muscles for what he’s sure will be a ton of walking through angry mobs, “Minimizing the amount of time in there is probably for the best, considering.”

It’s the way that Flip hesitates that clues Ron in that maybe, Flip didn’t have as many brains as he had thought.

“Considering what?” Flip asks, the second clue.

“Flip, it’s Christmas Eve.” Ron spells it out plainly, and wishes he had a camera to capture the exact moment that the next thought enters Flip’s mind, and subsequently spills out of his mouth:

“…Oh fuck.”

Shaking his head fondly, Ron claps a hand on Flip’s shoulder as he rounds the front of the car, and the two of them brave the great unknown together.

 Flip was not nearly as familiar with the mall as he likes to think, but he knows where the jewelry store is, and really that’s all that matters.

They make their way down to that section of the enormous space, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the sheer abundance of Christmas Cheer that surrounds them. Nearly every store had something in its window display: lights, statues, mannequins modeling holiday attire, some even had moving animatronic animals that gave Flip the shivers. Every pole and railing and kiosk in the place was covered in garland and lights, and in the grand atrium, enormous ornaments were suspended from the ceiling.

Pausing for a moment and looking up at them, Flip wonders what the likelihood would be for them to all come crashing down.

He’s so caught up in fact, that he nearly misses Ron branching off in another direction.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Flip jogs a couple paces to catch up, a frown already forming between his brows.

“I need to pick somethin’ up for Patrice.” Ron explains, holding up his little shopping list. Flip gives him a mildly panicked look, but Ron only reassures him with, “We’ll meet up at the food court?”

I can do this, Flip thinks to himself, it’s one store. How bad could one store be?

“Sure, don’t take too long.” Flip eventually agrees, swallowing down the feeling of impending doom – otherwise known as “acid reflux” according to you – and squaring his shoulders.

He didn’t need Ron, he was a grown man after all. He fought in Vietnam twice! Surely he could go to the jewelry store…right?

Making his way over to the escalator, Flip has his eye on the prize; Goldsmith’s Jewelry is just off to the left, he can see it coming. Playfully taking the five golden rings theme and running with it, large decorations spin gently in the window, glittering in the light. Flip’s relieved to see the place relatively empty.

Not completely dead, but definitely not a line out the door the way that the toy store had. As a matter of fact, when Flip walks through the glass doors, he’s greeted by less than ten people, including the owner himself, who lights up when he spots his friend.

“Philip! Good to see you son. Here for those earrings you were looking at?” Carl, a fabulously eccentric man with no less than fifteen pieces of jewelry on at any given time practically jingles when he comes around the counter to give Flip a hug.

“You bet Carl, how much am I layin’ out for you?” Flip has to bend himself nearly in half to reach the kind gentleman’s embrace, already reaching for his wallet.

Carl was one of those men who could reminisce and catch up for hours on end, and as much as Flip would love to listen to the story about how Carl lost his dentures in his shoe for the hundredth time, he would rather listen to you instead. Thankfully, Carl doesn’t seem too pressed about it, and he only beckons the detective over to the register counter.

“Tell you what, since you’re practically family and helped out Darlene with her car troubles, I’m taking half off.” Carl announces with a twinkle in his eye, making Flip feel a little guilty about wanting to scram as fast as possible.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that Carl really – ” Flip tries, but Carl is having none of it.

“I want to!” He smacks at Flip’s hands when he tries to offer him the full amount of cash, fully turning his back on Flip to go into the little employees only room. “You stay right here, I’ll just go into the back and get it wrapped up real nice for you.”

Left alone once again, Flip has no choice but to let his eye wander. The entire place was sensory overload, really, and Flip wishes he could have a fucking cigarette. Was the music at the mall always this loud and discordant? Chewing on his lip instead of the butt of a cigarette, Flip looks around the store.

He makes uncomfortable eye contact with a man who is clearly picking up something for the wife and something else for the girlfriend, and he looks away when he realizes. Training his eye on the great big mirror up on the wall instead, Flip frowns.

Is that…no, it couldn’t be.

Santa Claus wouldn’t be taking a break from the Workshop near the foodcourt to stop into a jewelry store, would he? Flip shakes his head, he’s probably just being paranoid. The guy is probably on break and looking for something for Mrs. Claus. Flip cracks himself up with that thought, and is about to turn around and joke with the guy about it – when he notices through the mirror that the Santa is ever so cautiously reaching around the counter, looking for the lock mechanism.

“Shit.” Flip licks across his teeth, when he manages it open and begins pulling out necklaces with seemingly no one noticing.

Carl still hasn’t come back, so Flip casually reaches for the phone on the counter near the register, dials the direct line number to his buddy back at the station.

“CSPD this is Jimmy – ”

“It’s me, I’m at the jewelry store on the second level of the mall downtown. I think there’s a robbery about to go down, I’m going to need backup.” Flip mutters as quietly as he can into the receiver, keeping and eye on the Santa.

Sure enough, he’s pulling out a sack, and it looks as if this guy has already hit up quite a few stores, if the brand new boxed electronics filling it are anything to go by.

“Is he armed?” Jimmy asks immediately, and Flip tries to get a good look.

“I can’t tell, he’s in a Santa suit.” He explains, and then scowls when the line goes silent for a moment.

“…Flip are you serious?” Jimmy tries to start some bullshit but Flip doesn’t have the time for this.

“Yes I’m fucking serious would you just tell Trapp I need backup? Ron is here somewhere but I don’t know where the fuck he went.” He hisses, teeth clenching tight enough that he can feel the muscle fluttering in his jaw.

“Okay okay! I’m on it, keep him in your sight.” Jimmy replies, before hanging up.

Trying to steal a glance through the mirror again, Flip realizes he must have been a little too loud, because the Santa has bolted through the doors, sack filled with diamond and ruby and sapphires galore.

“Fuck.” Flip grunts to himself, before slamming down the phone near the register and rushing out of the store with a futile, “CSPD! Hands where I can see them!”

 This would be much easier, Flip reasons, if it weren’t Christmas fucking Eve. The mall is swamped with people, loud and slow like big dumb buffalo – no, he wouldn’t do buffalo the disservice of comparing them to these last minute mall shoppers who cannot decide if they want to walk on the left or the right side of the aisle. Santa, he needs Santa – but there are so many! Nearly a dozen guys in red coats and white beards ring bells or wave or laugh jolly hearty laughs, and Flip feels like he’s in hell.

No, he supposes, Hell must be the five-story Hibbard & Co., where he finally manages to catch sight of the Santa he’s after. Bolting across the large expanse of the mall and into the first level of the store, Flip trips and stumbles through displays of empty cardboard box presents and wooden nutcrackers, causing shouts and screams of distress to erupt around him from the patrons of the store.

The employees however, are entirely unphased, they continue to spritz the air with their perfume samples, directly into the face of Flip, who is scrambling and already breathing heavy as it is, his boots carrying him around the sharp corners of the mirrored kiosks in the perfume department.

“Oh – shit – fuck!” Flip’s blinded by the perfume, his eyes stinging. He’s choking on it, unable to breathe as rose water stings his vision. “I love my job, I love my wife, I love my job…”

He chants to himself as he blinks and coughs, to no avail; he’s so blinded that he crashes into a display of coats, which in a domino-like effect crash down all the other displays of winter clothing on their way down, but Flip can’t stick around to apologize, the Santa is getting away.

“Out of my way – Ron!” Flip shouts as he pushes and shoves himself through the large swathes of people, Christmas music blaring bright and cheerfully as he runs and runs and runs, shouting out, “Ron if you can hear me a little help would be appreciated!”

The Santa isn’t making this easy for him, Flip curses, as he runs down the up escalator.

Following suit, there’s real screams now when the Santa pulls out a gun and starts blindly shooting behind himself at Flip, making everyone on the escalator, and everyone in that area of the mall for that matter, scatter. If Flip thought the crowds were bad, a mob was even worse, and soon everyone is running in every which way direction, as this Santa gets off the escalator and sprints down towards the food court.

Flip wonders why the place isn’t on a lockdown yet, wonders what the hell is taking backup so long to get there already. Didn’t this place have cops? Weren’t the mall cops good for literally anything? What a waste of his time, Flip thinks, as he runs runs runs with his gun in his hands, trying to hold steady as he aims to shoot, the robber in his sight, he can see him, he can practically smell him --

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this – oh fuck me -- !” Flip collides hard with an unsuspecting dad who just happened to be grabbing lunch from the food court for his entire family.

“Watch where you’re fucking going pal!” The dad shouts.

All at once, a whole tray of pizza slices doused in red sauce and melted cheese, and four large cups of pepsi are flying through the air and landing all over Flip’s brand new shirt, the one that you had just given to him for Hanukkah. He wants to be livid, wants to choke this guy out but the robber is getting away, Flip’s losing visual on him, and after all the trouble, there’s no chance he’s letting him get away.

“You fucking watch it!” Flip scrambles up, which isn’t easy to do on freshly mopped linoleum floors covered in soda pop, his gun spiraling a couple feet in front of him that he lunges to pick up, muttering to himself, “Ruined my goddamn – ugh – fuck!”

He has to change, and he has to change quickly – scanning the nearest stores, the closest one in the mall that sells clothing. He runs over to it, already unbuttoning his ruined shirt, and grabs the first thing on the rack he sees, which happens to be the most hideous, tacky, terrible looking Christmas sweater.

Flip raises his eyes up to the ceiling, and can practically feel the universe laughing at him when he groans, “Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

There’s no time, he doesn’t have any other choice, so he yanks the ruined shirt over his head and throws the sweater on. It’s two sizes too small, and it’s itchy as all fucking hell, and of course, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse…the faux lights turn out to not be so faux after all, and they blink as he accidentally rips a tag off so not to trip any alarms.

Throwing money onto the counter as the employees stare at him like he’s a maniac and not just trying to do his fucking job, Flip’s chest heaves as he stands there, gun drawn, scanning the panicked swarms of people in front of him.

“Where did you go you motherfucker?” Flip growls, growing more and more pissed off by the minute.

A moment or two goes by, but then he spots him – the pet grooming salon.

Without any hesitation, Flip is chasing this man down with all his vigor, lungs pumping full of recycled mall air conditioning, blood pounding in his veins. The sooner he catches this guy and gets him cuffed, the sooner all this pandemonium will end.

“Hey!” He hears an authoritative shout from the other end of the mall, and lets out a sigh of relief.

The mall security has finally shown up, and he’s about ready to tell them that Santa is in the pet salon, when he notices they are not slowing down in their full force sprint towards him.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” Flip realizes they think he’s the maniac! “I’m a cop! It’s not me – I’m – oh for fuck’s sake.”

Flip realizes he doesn’t have the time to explain, so he does the exact opposite thing you’re supposed to do: run.

Into the pet salon Flip goes, hoping that if he can just grab the Santa it’ll all be explained, but there is no Santa to be found. Instead, Flip is met by a dozen dogs that have been let loose. Big dogs, like Dobermans and Rottweilers, and small dogs like Poodles and Pomeranians have all been released from their cages, and for whatever reason, are baring their teeth at him, and lunging after him as he runs the other way.

“Heel! Sit! Stay – ow!” Flip feels teeth sink into his ankles, and doesn’t bother looking back as he kicks away one of the smaller dogs in the pack that is chasing him.

He can see the Santa, and now, chased by dogs and mall cops, Flip chases him down for hopefully the last leg of this race. He can feel steam shooting out of his ears, he’s never going to leave home again he decides, never is going to step foot in this fucking mall again, as he’s chased.

 Meanwhile, blissfully unaware over in the lingerie department of Macy’s, Ron Stallworth’s greatest dilemma is trying to choose between the red velvet bra and panty set, or the navy satin set. He’s been staring at the two sets for quite some time now, and is conscious of the fact that Flip must be waiting for him, so he calls over one of the employees for her opinion.

He explains that it’s for his girlfriend, and while red and blue are both colors she likes, he isn’t sure which would get the most use – when he sees a Santa Claus stumbling and tripping over himself, shoving people out of his way as he runs past the great big glass windows.

“Huh.” Ron frowns, putting the sets down and moving over to the windows to get a better look.

Ron hears the commotion before he sees it, but when he does see it – ‘it’ being his best friend bleeding, in a blinking fuzzy Christmas sweater, gun brandished, chased by dogs and security who are blowing their whistles and brandishing guns of their own – he grabs all his shit and makes leave.

“If you ladies will please excuse me – ” Ron gives a parting excuse to the employees, who only frown at him as he runs and runs and runs to catch up to, “Flip! Flip what the fuck is going on!”

“It’s about goddamn time!” Flip shouts, nearly red in the face from exertion and sheer unbridled rage as he points with his gun to the man in red a few yards ahead, “That Santa! Is! A! Maniac! I don’t know how many stores he’s stolen from, but at least from the jewelry store and is shooting at people – watch out!”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, half a dozen men throw large plastic ornaments the size of cars out onto the floor as a means to blockade the hall. They’re dressed in green, with red and white stockings and pointed hats that have jingle bells on the end, but these were no innocent visitors from the North Pole.

“Of fucking course he’s got elves.” Flip grunts as he tries to run around them, tries his best to avoid getting hit square in the chest with them as they bounce and create a rampaging path of destruction.

“I’ll handle the dogs and the elves, and the mall cops, you catch Santa.” Ron slows down enough, until he’s far enough away that Flip can’t hear him, his own feet still on auto-pilot as he hunts down the Santa.

And then – then!

As if by some miracle, the Santa trips, and he and his sack full of stolen goods all come crashing down to the linoleum floor. In slow motion, Flip jumps using all the strength he has left, hands extended to grab the Santa, and as he flies across the distance between their bodies, Flip swears he sees his life flash before his eyes.

Thudding to the floor, he manages to get the Santa in a chokehold, letting out a triumphant shout of victory.

“Got you!” He pins the man down, rolls him over onto his back so that he can pin his hands behind his back, Flip fishing for his handcuffs that he managed to keep in his back-pocket this whole time, “I got you you son of a bitch!”

 Off to the side, a group of small children watch a grown man leap and tackle Santa Claus to the ground.

Little Stacey gasps in shock and horror, before her older brother Jacob can quickly cover her eyes with his own mittened hand. They, along with their friends – an assortment of ten to twelve year olds left unsupervised on Christmas Eve while their parents and gaurdians get gifts for in-laws they don’t like – immediately turn to one another, while Santa’s body jerks and writhes underneath the heavy knee of some strange man.

“What should we do?” Nicolas asks the leader of their group.

“Well there’s really only one thing we can do.” Dewey says with all the determination of a man about to walk into battle. The children exchange glances with resolution and with all the authority that an eighth-grader can muster, Dewey regards his friends, “All in favor of rescuing Santa and saving Christmas, say ‘aye’.”

“Aye!”

It is this emboldened shout of unity that draws Flip’s attention – before he is promptly charged by six small children who proceed to punch, and bite, and smack at him.

In the chaos, Santa manages to slip out of Flip’s grasp. Thankfully he’s still handcuffed and he’s dropped his gun, but the children don’t notice that. No, they’re too busy beating the shit out of Flip, who can’t bring himself to fight back against the angry fists of fury that are descending onto him.

“Get off of me! Get – I am a police fucking officer get off -- !” Flip manages to shake them away, and they stare up at him with wide eyes when he wipes the blood away from his nose at being slammed to the ground.

“Don’t you assholes have parents – oh forget it.” Flip doesn’t bother, caring so little about anything anymore.

He’s is almost defeated, almost, but Santa is handcuffed and limping, he can’t get too much farther, he’s so close – he’s right there –

“Oh shit!” Flip jumps back, as suddenly, out of nowhere, Ron in one of the security mall-carts comes darting from around the corner and t-bones the Santa from the side.

Santa’s body slides across the floor, and seconds later, Bridges, Trapp, Jimmy, and a dozen or so other familiar faces flood the large floor, in their blues and with their walkie talkies loud.

“Flip!” Bridges darts over to where Flip has practically collapsed onto the floor.

He’s directly underneath those ornaments, and he practically wills one of them to unlatch from their suspension and crush him to death.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Bridges has the audacity to ask, looking Flip straight in the face.

His bleeding, swollen face.

There’s a moment or two where Flip can’t think of anything other than how badly he wants a fucking cigarette, but eventually he licks across his teeth, scratches the back of his neck.

“Honestly?” Flip muses, before replying in the most dry deadpan way he can muster, “I’ve never been better.”

Blood drips onto the blinking Christmas sweater, and with that, Bridges claps him on the back and nods.

“Go home. We’ll get your statement after the holiday weekend.” He says, and sweeter words have never been spoken. “Don’t worry about Ron, we’ll give him a lift home.”

 Flip’s snowy home in the mountains has never, ever looked more beautiful, Flip can’t help but think. It was quiet, so quiet up here. Snow dusted itself along the length of the front porch, draped the roof and surrounding trees in a blanket of crisp clean fresh white. No dirt, no blood, no sweat – just white. It was purifying, to say the least.

But not so purifying as the front door opening and your stunning face lighting up to see him.

That is, until you notice him limping, notice him covered in blood, notice his hair destroyed and his face bruised. Then your smile melts into something closer to shock and terror.

“Phil! What the fuck happened to you?” You rush to him, trudging through snow that’s up to your calves. You’re not wearing shoes, and Flip can’t bear the thought of you getting too cold, so he hoists you up and holds you against his side, walking you back to the house.

“I…really…don’t want to talk about it.” Flip sighs, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers with you and never emerge.

“Holy shit, are you bleeding?” You push your hand up to his face and feel at his tender nose, making him wince.

“That sounds about right.” He mutters, slamming the door behind him with his foot when he finally crosses the threshold into the foyer of the house.

Flip puts you down and immediately shoves his entire face into your neck, trying hard not to cry. What a fucking day it had been, he can’t help but think as he lets the stress and frustration finally mount behind his eyes. His face hurts, everything about him hurts, his legs are exhausted, his back is fucking killing him, and worse of all, his ego is beyond bruised.

“I hate Christmas.” Flip hiccups, knowing that he’s smearing blood against your pretty robe. Now that he’s got you in his arms, he doesn’t want you to go away, doesn’t want you more than a foot away from him.

“I know sweetheart, I know. Come on let’s go take a shower.” You card your fingers through his hair, and lead him up to the bathroom.

 In the light of the bathroom, you do your absolute damndest not to laugh. It’s not that you’re laughing at him, because you would never laugh at him of course, but you’ve never seen your husband look more angry in his entire life, and you’ve been there for a significant portion of it. You have a million questions that you know better than to bombard him with right now, knowing he’ll explain all in due time.

So instead, you peel away his layers until the both of you are naked. A Christmas sweater that blinks bright red and green is buried under blood-stained and ripped jeans, your robe, underwear and socks. Flip turns on the heat and waits for the water to not be so frigid, and in the meantime, you examine him.

“Were…did you get bit by a dog?” You frown as you see crescent bruises blooming underneath his skin. Thankfully, it looks like no actual puncture wounds – what a Christmas gift that would be, rabies.

“More like a pack.” Flip grumbles, making your eyebrows shoot up nearly to your hairline. You want to ask, but Flip dismisses it for now with a sigh and an, “It’s a long story.”

Finally the water seems to be good enough for him, and Flip leads you into the shower. At once, the water runs pink as it washes him clean of the day from hell. Your hands in his hair are heavenly, washing the muck and sweat and grime out of the locks, and Flip could practically cry.

“I know what you need.” You whisper, kissing at the side of his face that’s not tender.

Keeping heated eye contact, you slowly slowly slowly slink down to your knees. Water cascades down your shoulders as your hand reaches for Flip’s cock, as you pump it ever so carefully in even strokes until he’s fully hard.

Your tongue licks up a thick stripe of his shaft, and Flip has to lean fully against the wall so his legs don’t give out and he winds up in the ER with a concussion again. Your mouth swallows him down, feels the weight of his cock on your tongue, against the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat.

“Bed, now.” Flip stops you before you can get any further, and you pull off with a smile, glad to see that though he’s in a bad mood, he’s willing to let you help him feel better.

Barely drying off with a towel, Flip kisses and kisses and kisses you as you both stumble to your bed, falling down on top of the covers. You’re giggling against his lips just because you love him so much, but he’s not smiling. No, he’s still in a proper pissed off mood, and you’re glad to let him do what he will with you.

Flip’s cock throbs as it slides in real easy into your cunt, the wet heat of your body welcoming him on the first thrust. Your eyes fall shut as your back arches off the mattress from the feeling of being so filled so fast, the breath punching out of your lungs.

“God you’re wet.” He has to groan, swipes a few fingers over your clit just to massage it and get your legs shaking, your shoulders squirming for him, “What – were you jerkin’ off missing me? Thinkin’ about me? I was thinkin’ about you.”

The thought makes him break out into a sweat as he starts to thrust, his limbs aching and sore from all the running and bodily contact, but too desperate for you to give a fuck.

“Yeah, yes Flip – I missed you, missed your cock.” You whine, giving him permission to, “Give it to me, take it all out on me honey.”

The flood gates open, and Flip’s ramming into you hard and fast. He’s bouncing the mattress, slamming the headboard from it, from the grip on your hips as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Spit strings down from his teeth as his jaw is clenched, savoring the feeling and chasing that feeling, of your beautiful body opening and squeezing around him.

“Fuck ketsl, fuck I – oh damn that feels good.” He grinds himself all the way up inside you, pushes you up the bed with the force of it. He grabs at your hair, yanks your head back so he can suck and kiss at your throat, can feel your fluttering pulse as you moan and sigh and gasp.

“Yeah? How good? Tell me.” Your hands don’t know where to go, you don’t want to accidentally touch a bruised spot, so instead they fist in the sheets as you push your hips up to let him rail into you from this new angle.

“I’m gonna knock you the fuck up, that’s how good it is, that’s how hard you make me ketsl, do that thing I like? You know the one.” Flip’s delirious, doesn’t know what he’s even saying, but you breathe out a harsh moan from the words, hands pushing your tits together.

“Like this?” Your voice wobbles from the fucking he gives you, breasts bouncing, nipples peeking through your spread fingers as you cup and hold them for him.

“Just like that – fuck, goddamn baby you’re so pretty, I could fuck this pussy all night long – ow!” Flip is about to lavish kisses onto your cleavage, when something twinges in his back, and his arms collapse underneath him and he falls square on top of your chest.

“Shit, Flip are you okay?” Your body tenses immediately, worried for him, the mood ruined.

“Yeah – yes, dammit,” Flip groans, never feeling more like an old middle aged man than he does right now.

“Okay maybe don’t fuck me all night long,” You chuckle, calming and soothing him with your hands in his hair, abandoning the hold on your breasts. Still, you’d hate for him to not even get to come after all of that, so you kiss the side of his tender nose and whisper, “Are you close?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m sorry – ” Flip rolls you onto your side, eases back into you that way, where he doesn’t have to hold himself up.

“Don’t apologize, just come in me honey, come in me.” You encourage, knowing that he’ll get a good few orgasms out of you once he’s feeling a little better.

Flip nods and kisses you, wet and hot and sloppy as he thrusts a few more times, your legs corralled over his, until he grunts out long and low, spills into your pussy.

He rides that high, rides the feeling of your sweet lips on his, until all he can do is groan from being sore.

“I think I need to see a doctor.” Flip grumbles, sounding so dejected.

“Yeah I think so too handsome.” You give him an apologetic smile on behalf of the universe, and he sighs.

You’re an angel though, striking up a cigarette for him. Passing it to him, Flip pulls out of you with a wince and the two of you starfish out onto your backs, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You let him have a few minutes of silence, but eventually the curiosity kills you and you have to ask,

“Hey, how come you were even in the mall to begin with?” Peering up at him through your lashes, wondering what the hell he had even gotten himself into, “I thought you were just popping into work for something.”

At that moment, the cold dread of realization crashes through Flip, and despite his injuries and general exhaustion, sits straight up in bed and gasps out, “Oh fuck!! I’m sorry ketsl I was going to surprise you with – ”

Just then, the doorbell rings, and the both of you frown at one another.

You weren’t expecting anyone to come over, even though it was Christmas Eve, you didn’t have any plans to celebrate anyway other than with some Chinese food takeout and a good movie. Considering the state that Flip is in, you go to reach for your robe, but Flip shakes his head and grabs for his instead.

“No, let me. You’re not dressed.” Flip says.

You love him enough not to point out that he isn’t dressed either, but Flip deserves to do what he wants after the day he’s had, you think.

 Creeping down the stairs, Flip tries to look through the front window to see who it could be, but whether it’s the angle or something else, he can’t get a good visual. He pulls the robe sash tighter around his waist, looks through the peephole.

Strangely, there’s nothing there, no one to be seen. No car in his driveway, either.

How strange, Flip thinks, as he cracks the door open, wondering what the fuck else the day has in store for him.

Sitting right there on the front porch, is a small box. It’s wrapped in a golden ribbon, bearing the logo of Goldsmith’s Jewlery in a wax seal on the side. Frowning, Flip approaches it, picks it up. It feels like the right weight, but to be sure, he pulls open the ribbon and peeks inside.

Sure enough, resting atop the black velvet interior of the box are the diamond earrings that had started this whole mess.

Something about that, something about those earrings being there, makes Flip’s heart warm through. Even though it’s cold, he doesn’t feel the bite of the wind. All he can think about, is you, waiting for him upstairs in your bedroom. You, who care for him, who takes care of him, even on days when he doesn’t even want to take care of himself.

The earrings twinkle in the grey sunlight of the snowy day, and despite it all, Flip smiles to himself. What was another year of bullshit, really? He could go through anything, could do anything, as long as he had you by his side. Yes, Flip thinks, it’s all worth it, or at least it will be, when he sees your smile once again, when he gives you this little token of his appreciation, of his love.

And as he casts his gaze up to the sky, half expecting to see the real Santa Claus flying away in his sleigh, half expecting to see some friendly man smiling down at him behind a team of reindeer, Flip feels something that maybe…just maybe…might be akin to Christmas Spirit.

Until the moment passes, and he’s reminded of the day’s events by a twinge in his side from where he was donkey kicked by a twelve year old.

“Who the fuck am I kidding,” Flip scoffs to himself after a shake of his head, locking the door behind him, “Ba fuckin’ humbug, and a merry new year.”

[shxllxfx]

Family pt 1 || Daryl Dixon

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Y/N and her little brother meet Daryl and Rick.

Warnings: none except for language? English is not my mothertounge

A/N: if you wanna be added to my taglist just let me know ;*

Taglist: @browngirldominion​  

"Ty I need you to climb up there and be super duper quiet, can you do that for me?" The y/h/c haired boy in front of you gave you a small nod. You looked around quickly, checking again for any walkers near you. Lifting him up you made sure that he was high enough. High enough to be out of sight of any walkers or people. You couldn't risk him getting seen. "Okay, Ty. Stay there. If anything happens, you yell for me, alright? Other than that stay up there and be quiet." Again he nodded. You gave him a small grin, before heading off. Quietly you made your way through the trees, putting one foot before the other, your bow and arrow raised high, when you heard a noise. A deer. It couldnt be too far away. Slowly you followed the prints on the ground, the bow in your arm ready. Never have you been happier that your dad was obsessed with the end of the world. He taught you everything. You were standing behind a tree and walked around it. There she was standing in the middle of a clearing eating grass. You pointed your bow and arrow at the deer, pulling the string back. Deep breath in and...

"Sophia!" The deer looked up and ran away. "Son of a bitch!" You muttered and tried to shoot your arrow to still hit the deer but it was gone. Rustling behind you made you turn and face two men. "Idiots! 'Cause of you my dinner ran!" One men was wearing a sherrifs uniform, the other one a plain tank top and some pants. They looked at you with surprise, your bow and arrow pointed at them. "Maybe try an' hold tha bow righ' for a start." The one in the tank said and you raised an eyebrow. He had a crossbow, easier than bow and arrow so what's he to judge? "Shut up, dumbass. You have to be nuts to sream some name through the whole forest. Tryna get yourselfs killed?" You lowered you bow and looked at them through squinted eyes. Turning on your heel you tried to make your way back to Tyler. "You all alone out here?" You looked at the sheriff over your shoulder. "Nah, cant you see, sheriff? Got plenty of company."

He followed you. Weirdly enough it didnt make you feel uneasy. At no point either one of them raised their weapons against you. "You gonna buy me dinner now, or why you following me, huh?" He laughed. "No. I'd like to ask you somethin'" You stopped, looked up the tree and to Tyler. "Its okay, you can come down." Both of them looked up. "So what did you want to ask?" You eyes were still on Tyler, making sure he doesnt fall down the tree. He was a good climber, always has been since the day he started to walk. When he jumped from the last branch you catched him. "You seen a little girl?" The one with the crossbow looked at you, eyebrow raised. You sat Tyler on the ground, kneeled down and got a bottle of water out of your backpack. You shook your head as you handed it to your brother. "Cant say I have." Tyler gave you the bottle back and smiled at you. "Have you got one? I am hungry." Shaking your head you searched in you backpack. "Sorry, buddy. Couldnt get a deer. But you want that?" You held out a granola bar. He nodded and took it with a smile. "Just the two of you, huh?" You looked at the sheriff. Giving him a small nod you put your backpack on again. "I am Rick. That's Daryl. You are?" Tyler raised his arms at you and yawned. He was tired. You were too, you hadnt slept in days. Lifting him up he clung to your front like a koala. "Y/N. An' the little koala bear is Tyler." Daryl looked at you. "Dangerous to be out on ya own." You nodded. "Well what am I suppos'd to do? Get me sum walkers as company?" Tyler put his head in the crook of your neck. At least someone can sleep. "You ain't got a group?"

"Doesnt look like it. Only the two of us at this point." Daryl and Rick looked at each other till Daryl nodded. "You could join us. We're a big group. Something like 10 people or so. Got other kids there as well. My sons one of them." You were surprised. Not only that they asked you to join but also that they were that many people left and near you. "I...I dont wanna cause any trouble." Daryl shook his head. "Cant leave you outta here with a kid. You a kid yourself." Your mouth opened and closed again. He was right. Atleast about Ty, you couldnt stay in the forest with a five year old. Not on your own.

You followed them back to the highway, Tyler still clung to your front. It wasn't a long walk, about 5 miles maybe, but having a 5 year old that weighs 18 kilograms on your front and a backpack on your back made things more difficult. You stopped next to a tree, trying to catch your breath. "You a'right?" Darly asked and you looked at him. "Having 'bout 25 kilograms to your torso and walking a steady pace is a bit difficult. Specially cause he feels 2 times heavier when he's sleepin'" He tilted his head. Rick stepped forward and put his arms toward you. "I'll take him for the last couple miles." You nodded and let him take Tyler from you. He immediately clung to Rick and you laughed. "Like I said he's a little koala." You took your bow off your shoulder and one of the arrows out of the side of your backpack, putting it to the string. Rick started to walk in front of you and you followed. "Need ta keep ya elbow lower, makes your shot cleaner." Darly muttered beside you and you side eyed him, lowering you elbow slightly. "Who taught you?" He asked and you turned your head to him. "My dad."

"Did you find her?" A woman with short, grey hair ran towards you, looking at Darly with big eyes. Rick put Tyler on the ground and he walked to you, hiding behind your leg. Daryl shook his head and the woman started sobbing and another one with long brown hair stroked her back. "We will find her tomorrow." Then she looked at you. "Who's that?" You smiled at her. "Hi. I am Y/N, that's my little brother Tyler." Everyone was looking at you now. She smiled but looked st Rick. "Couldn't leave her out in the woods alone with that kid." He shrugged and she looked at you again. "I'm Lori. How old are you?" Daryl was talking to the gray haired woman and Rick to an older man. "He's....he's five. I am nineteen." She introduced you to everyone else. They were nice and welcoming, gave you food and told you about themselves. You sat by the fire, knees pulled to your chest when Rick sat next to you, Daryl standing behind him. "How you feeling?" You stretched out your legs and looked at him. "Havent been around this many people in months. I have food, water, a fire right infront of me and I dont have to look around every second to make sure there ain't one of this things, so pretty good i guess?" You smile and he nods. "I have to ask you some questions, is that alright?" Now you nodded. "You have family except for Tyler?" You took a deep breath. "Another brother and my fathers somewhere out there, but they not together. My father left once all this shit started and Jack is 15 years old and somewhere out there, I lost them." Rick nodded. "Wait, them?" Daryl asked and you looked up. "Yeah. After my father left we...we were 4. Jack, Ty, my ex-boyfriend and me. Ty and I lost them when a group of walkers chased us." Rick put a hand on your shoulder and smiled. "Is Jack dead?" Shocked you turned to Tyler who was sitting next to you. "No, Ty. You know Jack. He's strong, he'll be fine." Tyler gave you a small smile and leaned into you. "I'll go and help Shane look out." Rick got up and left you alone with Daryl and Tyler. "Do you think we will see him again?" Ty muttered and you took a deep breath. "Hey, ya kno' what? My brothers out there too an' ya kno' what they'll be a'right." Tyler looked at him. "Do you think?" Daryl nodded and looked at you. You kissed Tyler's head and ruffled it softly. "Thank you, Daryl."