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disillusioneddanny · 3 months

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DPxDC Negativity

Hey this is just a friendly reminder that I'm going to put in the plainest terms that I can.

If you are telling people how they should and should not participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to read more comics before writing fanfic you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to do more research into canon in any form, whether that be reading wikis, reading comics, watching shows, whatever you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that what they are writing is not canon compliant and therefore not a valid way to participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

Fandom is supposed to be fun

Fanfiction is supposed to be fun

We are not writing these stories for anyone but ourselves. And to tell someone that they are participating in fandom wrong is GATEKEEPING

There are plenty of fanfics in the DC only sphere and the DP sphere that are so far away from canon it's unreal and that's totally okay!

People are allowed to enjoy fandom in however the hell they please. If that means they are writing a crap ton of Batfam/Danny Phantom content and not very much Justice League/DP content, that's totally okay.

If someone read the Wayne Family Adventures Webtoon and decided that they want to write Danny being adopted into a loving and crazy Batfamily that is totally one hundred percent fine.

If someone wants to write Danny with abusive and neglectful parents guess what? they can.

If they want to write Vlad as being a nurturing and loving godfather to Danny, they can.

What I'm trying to explain to you all is that it's okay to write things that are not canon compliant. It's okay to write things that are so far away from canon it's not even recognizable--I mean have you even read a fantasy au or a no capes au? That's basically just slapping a characters name and face to an OC. And guess what? THAT'S OKAY.

It's also okay to want to see more people interact with the canon lore, to want to share resources and tell people about your special interests. But the moment you start doing it and it makes people feel bad-- even if that is not your intention you are GATEKEEPING.

Gatekeeping is defined as the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.

By you telling others what they should and should not write, you are being a gatekeeper.

I get it, you want to share lore, you want to show that you know all these cool things about DC. You want more than just batfam and DP content. That's totally valid and really cool.

Do it yourself.

Don't take someone else's joy away simply because it's not what you want to see. They aren't writing it for you, they're writing it for themselves. You're just a lucky person who gets to see the beautiful works that they are putting time and effort into.

When I joined DPxDC I knew absolute shit about DC. Over the last year, I've read over 400 issues of the Batman comics, read all of the Red Robin series, and a smattering of random other comics with plans to read others. But when I started writing? I knew jackshit. My knowledge came from the Teen Titans cartoon, the Batman animated series, and vague memories of watching the Justice League animated series as a kid.

And if Dis from a year ago saw this gatekeeping shit, they would have never started writing for the fandom because they would have been too scared to be told they were doing it wrong.

Now? I'm writing DC only fics based off of what I learned in the comics and it's a lot of fun.

But I did that because I wanted to, I was starting to get more and more interested in DC and I wanted to know more. And I had access to pay for DC Infinite so that I could get access to the comics. Not everyone has that luxury.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to read them from free sites either. Maybe they have to use a public computer that doesn't have ad blockers. Maybe their local libraries don't have access to the comics. You don't know what their situation is.

Maybe you're being well intentioned. Maybe you're just wanting to share your wealth of knowledge with the fandom. But remember, if just one person is getting hurt by your statements, that means you're no longer being helpful. You're being harmful. You're scaring off a new fan who was super insanely excited to start sharing their headcanons.

You're making people feel unwelcome. And that's not fucking cool.

Fandom is supposed to be a welcoming space for everyone, it's supposed to uplift and bring joy. Not make people feel bad for not knowing enough, or for feeling too anxious to even begin figuring out where in the 75 year history of DC they should start reading.

I know that's what kept me from reading the comics for a long time. it was just too overwhelming. It still is overwhelming for me and thats with having friends telling me where to start and what comics are best to read.

Before I end this super hella long rant I want to remind you of one last thing.

You don't know what someone has read or researched before writing their fic. You don't know just how much they know about that character or universe. For all you know, they may have read, watched, consumed every single piece of DC media in existence. But they may still interpret it different than you did and that does not mean that their Bruce Wayne is OOC because it doesn't align with how you interpret Bruce Wayne. it just means that they view his character differently than you do.

And that's such a beautiful fucking thing don't you think? That a single character, a single universe, a single fucking line can be interpreted hundreds of different ways by hundreds of different people and it's still valid.

It's what makes fandom so freaking cool in the first place.

Like one day someone woke up and they were watching Danny Phantom and they thought hm, what if I had Danny Fenton go to Gotham one day and hang out with the bats? And next thing you know, now we have thousands upon thousands of different fanfics, fan art and HCs, all because of it. All because someone had that one idea and shared it and others saw it, interpreted it their own way, and decided to create even more.

And now we're here! And this fandom is beautiful and thriving. There are so many amazing and lovely people in this fandom. There are so many discords to talk about fandom, there's so many events, a DPxDC Bang is the works, a DPxDC fanzine is in the works.

That's so fucking cool and we should be celebrating that! Not making others feel bad for not knowing as much as others.

#dpxdc #dis has opinions #dis writes #dpxdc crossover #negativity

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rainbowsky · 3 months

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GQ & ADLAD CPN

@accio-victuuri has a post about some of the CPN from the GQ feature on GG. There are a couple more CPNs that I wanted to talk about because - with the exception of a couple of tidbits - I haven't seen turtles talking about some things that really stood out to me.

Both of the tidbits being discussed by BXG are based on fake rumors from the past.

Godly Back

Turtles feel that the backless jacket might be what was referred to in the recent LRLG rumor (Apparently wangwang senbei can be a homophone sounding like 'godly back').

In this context, "You saw what I wore, can you please choose something normal" becomes hilarious. 😅

If he really was talking about GG's back, well... DD, the rest of the internet agrees with you given the hotsearch that was trending on both the main and entertainment hotsearches. 😅

Xiao Zhan's back ditch is so deep

GGDD and ADLAD

This one I wanted to dig more deeply into because it's connected to a few different CPN from a long time ago, and a lot of turtles might not be aware of all these connections.

In the GQ interview GG mentioned he was really nervous for the first performance of ADLAD.

At the time a LRLG rumor came out with some exchanges between GG and DD in the days leading up to that first show. GG talks about being nervous, DD and his staff video call him to wish him Jiayou, and at one point - presumably the last time they talk before that first show - DD video calls with GG and closes off by giving him a high 5.

The day after the first show, GG posted on Weibo.

At the time there was a lot of speculation about what that second photo was. One of the theories was that GG had screen capped DD's hand high-5-ing his phone. Some fans even tried doing that themselves (screencapping their hands up against their phone cameras to see what would happen) with somewhat similar results - photos that were an ombre of pale pink to red.

Some additional CPN

When I saw GG talking in GQ about the first ADLAD show and how nervous he was and I saw turtles looking back over the LRLG rumors from that time, I decided to look over those rumors myself. I found a couple things there that really hit me in the gut, but which I haven't seen other turtles discussing.

Magician DD

One thing that stood out to me from the ADLAD LRLG rumor was when DD told GG he could do magic, and told his staff that only GG believed him.

Back in 2021 a series of pages called the 300G were released, which claimed to be transcripts of some of the best unseen moments from The Untamed BTS (300GB of BTS footage was reportedly sold to BXG fansites). They were translated by an all-star team of some of the best BXG translators and overall fandom MVP on Twitter back in the day (god I miss those days of Twitter 😢).

Disclaimer: We must remember that these are unconfirmed transcripts. As far as I know, none of the footage that could substantiate these transcripts has ever been released, so it could just be someone's fanfic.

Anyway, my absolute favorite moment in those transcripts was an exchange between GG and DD, when GG had been struggling with nailing a scene. My synopsis from a post I made about GG and DD's personalities a while back:

GG is having a hard time getting a take right for a scene, and the director tells him to take a break. DD scoots over to where GG is resting and holds out his two fists facing downward in front of GG and asks him to pick one for a surprise. GG agonizes a bit over which one to choose, but finally picks a hand. DD gives GG a mysterious smile and asks GG to hold out his hand. GG does, and DD opens his fingers over GG’s palm. There’s nothing there. DD says, “I’ve just given you some luck, so that on your next take, you will succeed.” GG asks what is in the other hand and DD turns it over and opens it and says, “See, there’s nothing there! Zhan-ge is so good, you guessed right on the first try!” GG rolls his eyes at DD and says, “WYB, in your heart, do you think I’m more than 10 years old?” On the next take, GG nails the scene.

So it's just possible that DD and GG have a long history of this type of exchange, of DD giving GG his 'magical' support. GG is just superstitious enough that it might genuinely help him, and anyway, who could fail to be soothed by such sweet magic? 🥹

GG and Sleep

Another thing that stood out to me is when GG talked about being unable to sleep. Honestly this part of the interview really got me because I have always struggled with extreme insomnia and I could totally feel his pain. I've tried so many of the things that he's tried, and have had similarly mixed/poor results.

Anyway, aside from the aromatherapy candle CPN that's been heavily discussed in the fandom, what stood out to me CPN-wise was the fact that LRLG rumors have (I think this has happened at least a few times, but I can't recall specifics), featured moments where it seemed like GG and DD left their phone/video calls active to keep each other company when the other one was sleeping.

In the ADLAD LRLG rumor there's a moment when it seems like GG might be having difficulty sleeping and DD keeps him company.

Find someone who will keep you company over the phone while you try to take a nap. 🥹

Firecrackers

Just another quick thing from that same rumor, DD talks about wanting to set off some firecrackers for GG, which... ugh, so sweet. My god.

His staff encourages him to do it, and he says he will be 'taken away' if he does (maybe get into trouble, likely exaggerated a bit), and his staff says he'll cover for DD.

In Chinese culture (and in fact, in many cultures), firecrackers are considered very lucky because they are believed to drive away evil spirits and bad luck (which is why they're such a feature of Spring Festival celebrations).

GG and DD always look out for each other, and this CPN around ADLAD and around GG's sleep struggles really hit me hard. I love them both so damn much!

#bjyx #yizhan #ggdd forever #fake rumors #lrlg #gq #the mysteries of yizhan #a dream like a dream

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goodomensjail · 10 months

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“Chekhov’s Gun” and Good Omens Episode 1 SPOILERS and speculation

yes i was at the Brooklyn July 18 premiere so these are real spoilers

The “Chekhov’s gun” is a story telling principle that says any detail in a story should serve a purpose in the overall narrative, i.e. if you SHOW a gun to the audience, it SHOULD be fired later in the story.

Applying this to Heaven’s threat of erasing a name from the “Book of Life” as punishment for anyone hiding or kidnapping or assisting in the missing Gabriel issue: we have never heard the term “Book of Life” in season 1, and why mention it as a threat if it is not to be used in the plot? Why not just say “torture” or “toss into the deepest pit” or anything else that we as the audience would clearly understand as “bad thing”?

No, it is purposefully stated “erased from the Book of Life” and then we are explicitly told this will mean “they will have never existed”.

I propose this prediction for the climax of the story, based on my seeing episodes 1 & 2 AND the EVERY SPOILER!!! so STOP HERE if you have avoided and want to continue to avoid “EVERY”. I guess basically here is my current fanfic for the season.

Fact: we have yet to find out Angel Crowley’s name. He suspiciously doesn't give it to Aziraphale who prompts him for an introduction in the opening pre-fall scene. He changes his name at least once, from Crawley to Crowley, and maybe more times since Hastur and Ligur bemoan “whats he going by these days” in season 1

Fact: The ONLY reason Crowley gets involved in helping hide Gabriel is after hearing that the Book of Life erasure punishment is in play and RUSHES to Aziraphale to protect him while “Good old fashioned lover boy” plays

THEORY: Crowley will take the blame for hiding Gabriel by handing him into Hell in order to protect Aziraphale. Gabriel will regain his memory and will come to recognize Crowley as either Raphael or Lucifer (more on that theory later) and Crowley will get Gabriel to swear to secrecy that Aziraphale was involved because hey wouldnt an Archangel want to take out a powerful demon who was once an Archangel or Gods Favorite Light Bringer? So Gabriel allows Crolwey to take the blame and heaven to erase him.

Crowley will rush back to the bookshop to say goodbye to Aziraphale and EVERY happens. Something like “Well i guess if its my last chance to say it” a la doctor who happens, and smoooooch. and THEN.

Nothing happens. Crowley cannot be erased because no one in heaven knows his name. They demand Muriel (a scribe angel) look up “the Demon Crowley” and she realizes rather happily there is no such name in the book. They try “the Demon Crawley” and still no luck.

Gabriel returns to heaven, and he keeps mum on the subject, having gone on an emotional journey with the husbands, he looks at Muriel knowingly and says something like “o well, Muriel keep looking, however long it takes” and he turns on his heel and is off. Muriel smiles and we cut back to our husbands that are really confused, Aziraphale cuz he just got smooched by the love of his life and Crowley cuz apparently he now has to live with his actions....

As for the “Lucifer” theory instead of the Raphale theory: in the HEBREW BIBLE Satan and Lucifer appear to be different angels, Satan a title meaning “the opposer” or “the acuser” and Lucifer “Morning Star” or “Light Bringer” an angel “that fell”.

Crowley was an angel creating stars including falling stars.

Crowley appears to be the more powerful miracle maker in season 1, and appears to outrank Aziraphale in the pre fall scene.

The angels say the miracle to hide Gabriel (which Crowley and Azirpahale performed together) was EXTREMELY powerful, too powerful for Azirpahale.

Crowley was an angel and a demon that did his own thing and didnt listen to authority, either God or Satan.

Satan, the red horny guy, is clearly called “Satan” in season 1 EXCEPT for the bar scene where Crowley states “i was bored... and then hey its lucifer and the guys!” - what if he is referring to HIMSELF and the guys? it would still work.

Neil has been pretty against the Raphael theory for some time....

ANYWAY. This is AAALLLL probably way off BUT if i even have a small portion of something right i need it written down to point to after July 28 :)

In ANY case there MUST be some kind of USE of the Book of Life i CANNOT imagine a world where that “gun” doesnt “fire”

EDIT: another story telling principle is called a “Red Herring” and that could also well be in play here, what with all the “Clue” references earlier this month. Lastly, the Archangels all SEE Crowley in the Job story, but he is in his glasses and in his time appropriate clothing....maybe the fact that he is always blending into the fashions of the time is that he is sorta HIDING his status as Raphale or Lucifer and blending in?

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens theory #good omens speculation #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers

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melody-everbelle · 1 year

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I Won’t Say I’m In Love (Wally Darling x Reader)

Title: I Won’t Say I’m In Love

Pairing: Wally Darling x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 593

Featured character(s): Julie Joyful, Sally Starlet, and Poppy Partridge

Warning(s): Denial, persuasion, and fluff :3

Summary: You try to convince yourself that falling in love with Wally is a bad idea. However, your neighbors think the opposite. 😉

Author's Note: Another Wally Darling fanfic! 🎉

I based this fanfic off of the aforementioned scene from Disney’s Hercules, so I hope you enjoy musical fanfics 🥰

***

You were out on a date with Wally Darling. During the event, Wally picked out your favorite flower and handed it to you. Before the date was over, he kissed your cheek and wished you goodnight.

As the night went on, you sat alone in the garden, admiring the flower that Wally gave you. Moments of you and him together crossed your mind, causing your heart to slightly flutter, and your cheeks to glow pink.

"Oh, Y/N," you said to yourself. "To think you have feelings for him."

After looking around to make sure that no one was around, you began to sing out loud.

(Y/N) If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that No puppet's worth the aggravation That's ancient history, been there, done that

To your surprise, your friends, Julie Joyful, Sally Starlet, and Poppy Partridge tagged along. You tossed the flower away, only for Julie to catch it.

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) Who d'you think you're kidding? He's the earth and heaven to you Try to keep it hidden, Honey we can see right through you Girl/boy/hon, you can't conceal it We know how you're feeling Who you're thinking of

Julie walked over to return the flower to you, but you rejected it to her dismay.

(Y/N) No chance, no way, I won't say it, no no

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) You swoon, you sigh, why deny it? Oh oh

(Y/N) It's too... cliche I won't say I'm in love

You walked away from the trio to give yourself a break. As you continued touring around the garden, you couldn't help but mentally visualize romantic scenarios.

(Y/N) I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming "Get a grip girl/boy/hon" Unless you're dying to cry your heart out

Julie, Sally, and Poppy followed along.

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby we're not buying Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling Face it like a grown-up When you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad?

Eventually, you walked around an area of the garden where there were statues of the residents of the Neighborhood.

(Y/N) No chance no way I won't say it, no no

You accidentally bumped into a statue of Wally, causing you to grin and blush.

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love

Embarrassed, you recoiled from the statue.

(Y/N) This scene won't play, I won't say I'm in love

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) You're doing flips, read our lips: you're in love!

(Y/N) You're way off base, I won't say it

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) She/he/they won't say it, no

You eventually returned to the spot where Wally kissed your cheek.

(Y/N) Get off my case, I won't say it

Altogether, Julie, Sally, and Poppy place the flower next to you.

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) Girl/boy/hon, don't be proud, it's okay you're in love

Recognizing the flower, you brought it close to your face. You finally realized that your love for Wally was valid.

(Y/N) Ooh, at least out loud, I won't say I'm in love

While singing the last word, you leaned back towards a large, gnarled tree and fell asleep shortly after.

(Julie, Sally, and Poppy) Shoo-loo, shoo-loo, shoo-loo sha-la-la-la-la-la, ahh 💖

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally darling imagines #x reader fanfiction #i won't say i'm in love #disney's hercules

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halfagone · 7 months

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Oooh, good point! I think I’d prefer to go for a mix of two and three. An experienced Danny who’s super sick of the hero life, but he’s still pretty experience and maybe even harbors resent for the league since they never helped him out. I kinda have a thing for stories about Danny having issues with the league, lol. What do you think?

This is in continuation to this post.

From what I've seen you're not alone with that preference/niche! lol I've even read some Miraculous Ladybug x DC crossover with a similar concept, back when I used to read fics for MLB (it's been a while since I last read fanfic for MLB though). I know I did play around with the concept for down the rabbit hole (goes the throne). However, something that's very tricky to balance is making sure Danny doesn't come off as... self-centered, I guess the right word would be?

Because yes, it's understandable that Danny would be upset that no one tried to help him if they did reach out. At the same time, you have to consider the possibility of censorship thanks to the GIW (which is a popular headcanon) or that Vlad used Desiree to make a wish that would shield the town for his machinations and schemes (which is another headcanon I've seen used before). Danny can be upset at first but if he finds out that their attempts for contact literally could not connect, then it would be unreasonable for Danny to keep harboring that resentment when they're here now because they found out. That implies that had they known back then they would have tried something too, but they are not meant to be omniscient, no matter how hard Bruce might try to be.

Plus... the JL already have a lot of responsibilities. Most if not all these heroes have a base of operations- an entire city to take care of. And yes, so does Danny, but they can't just drop everything and come to his rescue, especially if the problem is much more extensive than just closing the portal. (Which Danny could technically do at any given time, but chooses not to.) But let's not talk about that. And there's also all the off-world missions they're in charge of or participate in. And many heroes have their day jobs and civilian lives to maintain, and plenty of these heroes have kids! Things are complicated!

But complex situations make things all the more interesting, do they not? ;3

Let's play around with that, shall we?

---

"Are you really a ghost?" Bart asks Phantom in curiosity. Is it just 'Phantom' or is it 'The Phantom' because the latter sounds much more mysterious, but is that trade-marked by-

"You think too fast," Phantom grumbles under his breath as he zips around a burning piece of rubble. He hardly bats an eye at it, just watches it fly past and then freezes it, effectively putting out the flames. The rubble slides innocently across the blacktop, falling alongside all the other pieces he's already frozen over.

Phantom's hardly even trying. It's so not crash.

"You're not like any ghost I've ever seen before," Secret agrees with a small frown. She doesn't distrust Phantom necessarily, but her own curiosity is hard to fight down.

Phantom's lips twist with amusement. "I could say the same to you actually." The group collectively watch as Phantom's legs twist and disappear into a wispy tail, the ghost curling it around as if to hug himself.

"What kind of Casper..." Kon overhears Tim mutter to himself. It's a good thing he doesn't have a piece of paper, else he'd be taking rapid fire notes. A computer would've done in a jiffy, of course, but it's not like they had access to one of those in a blown out city street like this.

"I've never heard about you before," Cassie comments with pinched brows. She doesn't look happy about it.

And for what it's worth, Phantom doesn't either.

"You wouldn't," Phantom drawls. There's no mirth in his voice. He turns back to the villain of the day, hands sparking as he zaps the machine so thoroughly that sparks fly and the metal audibly creaks.

Kon shivers at the display. He's not afraid, not really, but he's still uneasy... He knows that Captain Marvel is one of those heroes on par with Superman, and right now, watching Phantom wield his lightning, Kon's starting to see why.

The group shuffle around uncomfortably as Phantom sucks up the villain into a soup thermos? Now that's not something you see every day.

"What's that do?" Tim, ever perceptive, prods Phantom for answers.

"It contains ghosts, spectral entities, the works," Phantom replies curtly, capping the thermos with practiced ease. Ease that spoke of experience. "You kids alright?"

"Dude, you're barely four years older than some of us," Anita deadpans with an unimpressed look. "You don't get to call us 'kids'."

Phantom lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Sorry, y'all are still babies to me." He points at Kon. "You've gotta be, what, not even six months old?"

Kon prickles at the remark. "That's none of your business." He knows he's not that old chronologically, but that doesn't make him an infant. He'd appreciate some respect about it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Danny replies and it sounds sincere? But most of them don't take too kindly to him anyways. He just gives bad vibes is all. "Where are your mentors? I feel like there should be at least one of them around to supervise."

"We can take care of ourselves," Tim insists, crossing his arms over his chest. Uh oh, he's hurt Timmy's feelings. That's never a good sign.

"You're kids, you shouldn't have to," Phantom sneers slightly, snidely more like.

"Like you did?" Secret asks tentatively. Phantom's hair visibly floats up, picked up by an inexplicable wind. His eyes glow a shade brighter. It's eerie. It's uncomfortable.

Phantom's face might be impassive, but he still remains an open book.

"Yeah, something like that," Phantom murmurs, his tone unreadable. "I hope you can take care of yourselves. One day you might be the only ones that do."

With that ominous warning, Phantom disappears. Here one minute, gone the next. Like a true ghost.

"I vote we call him 'Casper the Unfriendly Ghost'," Bart announces out of the blue. "Raise your hand if you agree?"

At once, every single member raises their hand.

"Motion passed."

#halfagone replies #dpxdc

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Things Heard and Seen | John Price x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Could I request "Are you flirting with me?" with our dear Price please?

summary: overnight patrols aren’t the best in the world, but sometimes, they’re absolutely terrifying.

tws: swearing, smoking, depictions of injury, blood, body horror

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Overnight patrols were the last thing that you had wanted to do, the very last duty that you had had in mind, but you still agreed to do it, as you were more than aware that if you didn’t, you would somehow end up with something worse to do around the base; it was cold, the night was only dimly lit by the dull LEDs that were used just outside of the bunkers, no moon and no stars visible thanks to the thick charcoal clouds that smudged across the dark blue canvas.

The night was quiet, a slight breeze that left a soft chill behind each whisper, and you had guessed that all the animals that you usually saw were probably hidden in dens and burrows to avoid the chill; the grass beneath your boots was stiff, and didn’t allow its blades to be dirtied by dewdrops.

It was too warm for ice.

But the night was getting colder, and although you tugged Price’s leather jacket tighter, and even did the zip up all the way, you could still feel the biting chill as it crawled up the back of your spine. You knew you were alone, whenever you looked back at where the one four one were, you could see plainly that no one was around, not even Price, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you.

Like you were being observed from something crouched and lurking in the nearby bushes, or stalked by something crawling along the long and dark stretches of shadows that were surrounding you; something that would quickly duck behind something close so that you couldn’t see it.

Maybe you were just tired, as you rubbed your eyes and let out a soft yawn; it was weird that you could see your own breath, but you presumed you were probably just running hotter than usual because of the leather jacket. Even if the hairs at the back of your neck were standing on edge and your heart was beginning to hammer in your chest; you stopped, and searched your cargo trousers for a moment.

You let out a soft sigh of relief when you grabbed the small can of Red Bull you had brought with you, and cracked it open; you still felt like you were being watched, observed, hunted.

Something in your stomach didn’t feel right, and your heart was getting more and more rapid before you even thought about taking a swig from your can; you shrugged it off, thinking that it was probably just a deer or a badger or something nearby that was watching you curiously. It couldn’t have been anything more than that.

The sudden sound of radio static made you jump as you flinched and let out a soft breath, but you soon realised that something wasn’t quite right when you heard voices, distinct and panicked, asking when it would be time to head to France; you had heard stories from Soap about radio communications coming in years after they had been transmitted, but you didn’t think it was even possible. They sounded desperate, scared, and even hesitant.

The radio chatter died, and you swallowed thickly; your hand shook as you brought your can of Red Bull to your lips. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished that there was something you could rest your back against so you at least knew that there was nothing behind you.

You were sure that it was just where the bins had not been emptied for a while, but carried by the breeze there was a strong smell of rotten eggs.

You didn’t want to take a look around you, chewing at the inside of your lip as you frowned and tried to steel yourself; you were a soldier, for fuck’s sake - wasn’t the entire point to be brave?

“Hey, mate, you shouldn’t be here.”

You slowly turned around, face falling and all bravery melting away as your eyes widened and a soft gasp left your open mouth; his head was tilted to the side at an unnatural angle, his vest was frayed and torn and didn’t even attempt to cover the gaping hole and the exposed ribs.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A small puddle was forming around his feet as he stood there, and when he took a step closer, you could see that the bones in his neck were sticking up and out of the flesh. Still fresh and wet.

You swallowed thickly, and took a step back.

“Didn’t you hear?” He asked. “We’re shipping out to France tomorrow. You ought to be in bed.”

You swallowed again, hardly able to form even a syllable as you stared at him; when he took another step forward, the dull lights just and just hitting his features, you couldn’t believe it.

His skin had chunks missing from it, so deep that they exposed his bones, and his nose was no longer there; his eyes were completely white, and where his ears should have been, there were only more chunks missing.

He stank of rotten eggs, and when he tried to take another step forward, you wanted to weep; his bones were grinding and clicking, like there was no longer any living flesh there.

“C’mon, mate,” he was starting to sound like radio static. “It’s a big day tomorrow - we should get you to bed… do you need a smoke? Calm your nerves?”

You whimpered, a shuddering gasp leaving your lips the longer you looked at him.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The puddle at his feet was growing, the ribs that you could see were cracked and the flesh around them burned; you took a look around, and when you went to look back at him, he was gone.

You stood there, staring at where the puddle had been; the smell of rotten eggs had passed, and the air felt a little warmer. You no longer felt like you were being watched, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a shriek and nearly spilling your Red Bull all over yourself when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Price looked at you, brows furrowed as he cleared his throat. “Fuck me, I only came to check on you… you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shook your head, looking around again. “There’s… there was… there’s… just here, he was… he was… he was right here.”

He nodded slowly, bringing two cigarettes out of his coat pocket and offering you one; he lit it for you before he did so his own, and took a long drag. He raised a brow, humming. “Did you see a ghost?”

You nodded, crashing yourself into his side. “He… he was right there! I’m not making this up!”

“Alright, I believe you,” Price told you gently, putting his arm around you. “But, I’m with you now, so you ain’t got anything to worry about.”

You were comforted by his presence, admittedly, and couldn’t help it as you leaned more into his side; Price had always been a source of comfort for you, you couldn’t lie, even before he had asked if he could be your boyfriend, he had always been comforting.

Now, when you needed it the most, you were even more grateful for that. You felt safe, you knew that you were going to be just fine so long as he was nearby; but you dreaded to think what would happen if he left, when he left.

Price wasn’t about to say it, but he could feel your body trembling as he kept you close to his side, and he wondered what the fuck had shaken you up so much; surely it couldn’t have been something as silly as seeing a ghost - ghosts weren’t real, and you were probably just suffering from being up for a while. But, it wasn’t his place to judge, he knew that; he wasn’t Captain at the moment, he was the boyfriend.

His duty was to make you feel safe, and to offer you some comfort while he could.

There was that feeling again, like something was watching, and you didn’t even hesitate as you pressed yourself into Price’s side, chewing at your lip and nearly dropping both your cigarette and your Red Bull, wide eyed and pressing your face against the side of his neck so that you didn’t have to see whatever fucker was going to come after you next.

Price took another drag from his cigarette as he debated what to do, how he could make you feel better and how he could possibly help you get through being so shaken up; he pursed his lips, and hummed quietly as he gently tapped your shoulder. “Have I ever told you how thankful I am that I met you?”

You nodded, squeezing against him even more when you heard static from your radio. “Ev- every day.”

“I still think,” he started, “honestly, that you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’d quite happily be yours forever, y’know. I’d be chuffed to say yeah, that’s the person I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jo- John,” you swallowed thickly, only daring to break away from him so that you could take a swig from your Red Bull and steal a few drags from your cigarette. “Are… you’re… are you- are you flirting with me?”

“Glad you noticed,” Price hummed, gently tapping your shoulder again as he smiled. “I’m gonna stay here until Soap comes to relieve you, though… don’t really want you to be all alone right now.”

“I’ll, I’ll be fuh- fine.”

“You don’t sound it, pup,” he frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t look it, neither.”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you sniffled. “Y… you don’t fin- think less of me?”

Price shook his head, gently kissing your forehead as he let out a harsh sigh. “Because you got scared? No… even Ghost, tough as he is, has shit a few bricks here and there whilst doing the overnight shift.”

You could relax a little, trying to steady your words and your breathing as you unzipped the jacket to give yourself a bit of a breather; it was warm enough now that you could, and with Price beside you, knowing that he was going to comfort you all night, you could let your guard down again a little bit.

It helped that he kept his arm around your shoulders and that he stayed near, the closeness a harsh reminder that you were not alone, and that you did have someone there to keep you safe during the rest of your patrol; it did bring a slight smile to your face to know that even Ghost had gotten scared doing it before, and you would have been lying if you ever said that it didn’t help to calm your freshly shocked nerves, too.

Every now and then, just to remind you that he was actually there and that he wasn’t about to leave your side, Price would pull you close enough that he could gently kiss your temple or your forehead; he could see it in your eyes that the fear was dying out, and that the tension from being shaken up and scared was slowly melting from your body.

He was glad of that, at the very least; he didn’t like seeing you scared, even if he was certain that just a silly ghost had never gotten to you that much. Even if he was convinced that something else had happened. He wasn’t going to push the subject, though, not unless you decided to talk about it openly; if you said you had seen a ghost and had gotten scared, then he guessed that you had seen a ghost and that it had scared you.

Besides, Price liked spending time with you enough as it was, and in the quiet and the dark, he could say things to you that he couldn’t say in front of others for fear that it would undermine his authority; he could openly tell you he loved you, he could compliment you and he could shower you with all the praises he had bottled up. It was more than worth a bit of sleep deprivation.

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sflow-er · 13 days

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Poll: Walter/Valter's canon last name

Thanks to this post by @emberc, I noticed that Felice isn't the only character who shows up in Wille's 'For you' in S3E3! Here's my own screenshot:

So it turns out Valter/Walter* is called something starting with Strömba- or Strömbä-. That's a pretty rare combination, and after some consideration, I think the most likely contenders are...

Strömbäck

According to the Swedish Tax Agency, there are about 1,100 people called Strömbäck in Sweden, which makes it pretty rare. It's not a noble name, nor does it sound like one. I think it would work well for someone who is meant to be from a wealthy but non-noble family.

Strömbacka

There are only five people in Sweden by this name, so it's probably a new name that someone made up. However, it is better known as the name of a village in Gävleborg, with an old ironworks and a manor house built by Arvid Hedqvist, son of ironworks proprietor and industrialist Carl Anton Hedqvist. I think this link to a real place, a specific trade and a real family makes Strömbacka a less likely choice, but it's not impossible by any means!

Are there other alternatives? Off the top of my head, maybe Strömbach or Strömbaum, but they sound German and there aren't any people in real Sweden by either name. Then again, we now know Nils is called Polstjerna, which isn't a real name and features an oddly old-fashioned spelling for a family that's meant to be nouveau riche, so I guess we can't rule them out!

Which do you think it is? Or is there another strong contender that I missed? Let's have a poll!

*I am still going to keep spelling it with W. That's what we called him back in 2021 based on the S1 subs and credits, and what I've used in almost 350k of Walty fanfic that I don't want to go back and change. Please excuse my obstinacy!

On a side note, who do you think Liljeroth07 is? Just some random guy? Surely it can't be Henry, the hair looks way too dark. Liljeroth is an existing, non-noble name, but it's rare and I guess it could pass for a noble name (cf. Linderoth, Linroth, Gyllenroth, Appelroth). And whoever he is, what's with the 07? Is he three years younger than Wille? Is seven his favourite number? Are there six other members of his family on IG?

#young royals #yr polls #walter young royals #valter young royals #walty #henry young royals #(although i don't think it looks like him)

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wickedwhing · 1 month

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Buddie (One-Shot)

So I ended up writing a Buddie one-shot. Here ya go.

Disclaimer:

This is an AU fanfic one-shot so not everything is accurately based on the show. Not that good though as it's been years since the last time I wrote anything. Haha. I hope you like it, still.

It's in Buck's POV so I didn't go much into Eddie's perspective and realization journey.

---

"So, how's things with Tommy?" Maddie asks Buck as they both sit down at the table.

"Uh...it didn't work out," Buck answers, avoiding looking at Maddie as he places food on his plate.

Maddie, though not entirely surprised, still the news is new to her as she thought that Buck and Tommy would go on for a little bit longer.

"Buck, what happened? What did you do?"

This time, Buck looks at Maddie with a disappointed look on his face, and says, "So, whenever a relationship of mine fails, your first assumption is that I was the one who fucked it up?"

"Well, no. But it's just that Tommy seems a really nice guy and, like, you were both kinda into each other."

"Yeah, well, he's really nice and I like him and he likes me, but...I guess you're right, I was the one who did something wrong."

"Okay, now, so what did you do?"

"It's not exactly what I did but something that I didn't really realize until Tommy pointed it out to me."

"Oh, for god's sake, Buck, spill it."

"I'm in love with Eddie..." Buck quietly said as if he's telling himself that. But it is the first time he has admitted it - that he tells himself it and believes it. It is the first time that he finally acknowledges his feelings for Eddie and knows they're real and he accepts it.

"Finally. Took you long enough," Maddie comments, making Buck look at her with surprise written all over his face.

"You knew?" Buck asks his sister in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. It's pretty much obvious."

"And you didn't care to tell me? "

"Buck, I know I'm your sister and I am always willing to help you and do things for you, but this is not something that I should have done for you."

"You could've just at least told me what was 'obvious.'"

"I was always dropping hints, you know. You were just too oblivious to your actual feelings for him. And I shouldn't just tell you you're in love with your best friend when you haven't even come to terms with yourself yet. I know you really don't brush it off when I joke about you being attracted to men, but have you really acknowledged that with yourself?"

Buck didn't answer, because it's already pretty obvious what the answer is.

"Exactly," Maddie says, accepting the silent answer. "You needed to realize first who you are, Buck, on your own, before you deal with your feelings for Eddie."

Buck sighs, "Yeah, you're right."

"Well, you did great, Buck, in figuring out who you really are and I'm so proud of you. Even though you almost deeply embarrassed yourself in the process and injured Eddie."

Buck tightly smiles.

"So, what do you plan on doing?"

"About what?"

"About your feelings with Eddie. I mean, it took you YEARS to realize that, and now that you do, what are planning on doing? Are you gonna tell him?"

"What? No! He's with Marisol and I don't think Eddie will ever be into a guy, much less me."

"Hmm-mmm," Maddie responds with a knowing look and an eyebrow raised.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, Buck. Eddie and you really need some sense knocked into you - HARD. You two are inseparable. You always have your own world. You have things that only you two know and do together. Something happens to one of you, the first person you go to is each other. You understand each other like no other people can. I mean I'm your sister but Eddie knows how to handle you better than me. And hell, you are even raising Christopher together. Eddie's not just doing this whole parenting thing alone because you two are already doing it. You are even the first person Christopher runs to if something happens with him and Eddie. You're practically his second dad."

"You know, that's pretty much what Tommy also told me. The whole co-parenting Christopher thing with Eddie. But well, I'm his legal guardian so might as well start now, right?"

"Legal guardian?!" Maddie asks clearly surprised by this news as Buck never mentioned this to her before.

"Well, Eddie listed me to be Chris' legal guardian in case something happens to him. But let's hope that will never happen."

"How come I just know about this now?"

"Well, I don't think that it should be announced to everyone. I mean, it's something between me and Eddie."

"See what I'm talking about?"

"No, I don't, Maddie. What's your point?"

"My point is you and Eddie have been so into each other ever since you met but it's either you two are in denial or too stupid to realize it. Well, in your case, most likely the second one since Tommy had to point it out to you for you to realize it."

Buck laughs humorlessly, not believing Maddie about Eddie also having feelings for him. "I am telling you, Maddie. You are wrong about Eddie."

"Well, there's only one way to find out, right? Tell him how you feel."

"He's with Marisol. He's happy with his relationship now. I can't just ruin that for him."

"You'll never know, Buck, unless you try."

---

Buck is cooking when suddenly there is a knock on his door. Wondering who might it be as he's not expecting any guests, he goes over to it and is surprised to see Eddie standing on the other side with a frustrated look on his face.

"Marisol and I broke up," Eddie says, stepping inside Buck's apartment before Buck can even say anything.

Buck closes the door and asks, "What happened? I thought things were going great?"

"I thought so too," Eddie says, going to Buck's fridge and getting himself a beer. He opens the bottle and leans against the counter as he continues, "But it turns out, it's not. I mean, she's great. She loves Christopher. But I just feel like that's there's something missing, you know. I like her. But not enough for me to stay in the relationship."

"Hold on, Eds. What exactly happened that led to this break-up? This is not Ana 2.0, right?"

Eddie looks at Buck then sighs and says, "She said 'I love you' and I just couldn't say it back. I don't wanna lie, Buck."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. Well, at least one of us has it going good."

"Actually, Tommy and I...it didn't work out."

"What?!"

"Yeah..."

"What happened?"

"I realized I wasn't into him like I thought I was. Well, after he pointed it out to me."

"He told you that you were not into him?" Eddie asks, confused.

"No. He told me that I'm already in love with someone else."

"Who? Is there something that you weren't telling me?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why? Buck, it's me. We tell each other everything."

"Not this one, Eds."

Eddie gives him a look of being offended and says, "So when I am the one keeping something from you, you won't stop nagging at me until I tell you what it is, but here you are, huh?"

"I don't nag at you, you know. I just persuade you into telling me."

"And yet, I still tell you. But you just won't. That's unfair, Buck."

"I'm sorry, Eds. I just can't tell you this one."

"Why? Do I know that person? Do you think I will judge you?"

"No."

"Then tell me who it is."

"No."

"Come on, Buck. Tell me. Maybe I can help you with it."

Buck chuckles, "No, I can't tell you."

"You can't see Christopher for a week if you won't tell me."

"Oh, come on, Eddie, that's not fair."

"You're the one who's not being fair. Why don't you just tell me who it is that you're in love with and you keep your rights of seeing Christopher every day."

"You can't do this, Eddie."

"I can and I just did. So it's your choice, Buckley."

"I really can't tell you."

"Okay, then. No Christopher for a week."

Frustrated, Buck says, "You can't just use your son to extort me."

"Then, tell me. Come on, Evan. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me."

Now, even more frustrated and with Maddie's words repeating in his head, Buck lets out a sigh as he says, "Fine." Then he walks over to Eddie, grabs his face, and crashes his lips against his.

To say Eddie is caught off guard is an understatement. His eyes are wide and he froze on where he is standing. He even almost dropped the bottle of beer in his hand.

"Happy now?" Buck asks as he pulls away and looks at Eddie who stares at him in shock. Buck drops his hands and steps back a bit.

As Eddie recovers from his shock, he puts the bottle down on the counter, and without a word, he walks out of the apartment, leaving Buck standing in the middle of his kitchen alone.

---

"I took your advice - kinda - and I'm pretty sure I just ruined my friendship with Eddie forever. I may not even be able to see Christopher ever again," Buck tells Maddie over the phone.

Ever since Eddie left him the night before, they have never talked. Eddie never called or even just texted him and Buck just doesn't have the nerve to reach out to Eddie after what he did.

"I'm sorry, Buck," was all Maddie can say.

"Well, you're still right. I will never know unless I try, and I did, and now I know."

"Have you tried reaching out to him?"

"And say what? 'I'm sorry I kissed you and I'm in love with you?'"

"Well, you can't just avoid each other forever because of one kiss. You two need to talk about it and move past it. You still work together, Buck. It will just be awkward if you don't fix this now, and everyone will notice it."

"But, I'm scared, Mads."

"But you have to. And you better do it before today ends because you'll be seeing each other tomorrow at work."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll try."

"Good luck."

Buck hangs up and slumps back into his bed with a frustrated groan. What is he going to say to Eddie? How is he going to make Eddie talk to him? But still, he knows Maddie is right and he needs to talk to Eddie no matter what. Despite his feelings for him, Eddie's still his best friend and he can't just throw that away because he ends up falling in love with him.

Throughout the day, Buck tries to call or text Eddie but he doesn't know what to say, and he's pretty sure Eddie won't answer him. So finally, he makes a decision of just going over to his house and talk to him in person.

It's already a bit late when he checks his watch, but he knows Eddie is still up at this hour. He grabs his keys and drives over to Eddie's house.

As he gets there, he hesitantly knocks on his door. As he waits for Eddie to answer, he just gets more and more nervous that he thinks he's going to have a panic attack.

Then Eddie opens the door and Buck stands there not able to say anything and just looks at Eddie in surprise.

Confused, Eddie says, "Hey, Buck. Is everything okay?"

Buck recovers, clears his throat, and says, "Can we talk?"

Eddie knows what this is about and he too knows that they need to talk about it rather sooner than later. So he steps aside and lets Buck inside his house.

As Eddie closes the door, Buck asks, "Is Christopher already in bed?"

"Uh, yeah. He went to sleep early tonight. Big day tomorrow."

"Oh...yeah. The field trip thing."

"Yeah..."

Then it was silence and the two men stand in the middle of Eddie's living room awkwardly. Couldn't take it anymore, Buck takes up the courage and says, "I'm so sorry, Eds. Everything just happened kinda all at once, you know? I mean, me figuring out who I really am and then realizing my feelings for you...I didn't mean to just drop it all like that on you."

"Well, to be fair to you, I was the one who forced you to tell me who it is."

"Only that you didn't expect it to be you."

"Right."

"And I understand if after this you would not be friends with me anymore. Just let me know if you want to keep a distance between us. Just that...just don't ban me from seeing Christopher. You know how much I love that kid."

Confused and surprised from hearing what Buck just said, Eddie asks, "Why are you saying that? Why would you think that I would ban you from seeing Christopher?"

"Well, I don't know...I mean, now you know I'm in love with you and you may be weirded out about it and you may be weirded out by me..."

"What? Buck, why are you saying that?"

"Well, because you walked out on me after I kissed you and I know you're pretty pissed at me and may never want to see me again."

"Do you think we're standing here now if I feel that way?"

Buck doesn't answer so Eddie sighs and says, "Alright. I know I walked out and I didn't reach out to you after. I'm sorry about that. But it wasn't because I was mad or weirded out, Buck. I was in shock that I couldn't say anything and I had to process everything first, okay? I've been meaning to talk to you, I just didn't know how..."

"So, you're not mad at me?" Buck asks in a hopeful tone.

Eddie sighs and decides that he better say everything now. "No. I wasn't mad at you. I can never be mad at you, Buck. You see, after I left your place last night, all I did was think about everything and I realized a lot of things too. About you and about myself.

"Ever since I met you, Buck, I immediately got these strong feelings for you - this attachment to you. You've become a very important person in not just my life but in my son's too. You are not just a friend to us, Buck. You are our family. You are practically Christopher's dad too, you know? I wouldn't have been able to raise Christopher without you. I won't be able to make a good life here in LA without you. There's no one in this world I would do all this with but you, Buck. And that's pretty much why I can't make any relationship work with other people. Because they are NOT you. It took me a while to realize that. Well, it's pretty much Carla who spelled it all out for me this morning, and she's right. I already have my home and my own family here and that's Christopher and you."

"What are you trying to say, Eds?" Buck asks, tearful and hopeful.

Eddie chuckles then walks over to Buck and this time, it is he who pulls Buck to him and kisses him deeply.

Buck is surprised but he manages to catch on quickly and responds to Eddie's kiss as his arms find their way around Eddie's body.

As they pull away, Buck looks at Eddie with a smile that says he just can't believe what just happened. Eddie smiles back at him and says, "I love you too, Evan."

"Finally!" They hear Christopher say, making them both turn in his direction in surprise. "Took you a long time to realize that."

"I thought you were already sleeping," Eddie says with a chuckle as he goes over to Christopher.

"I was but you two are so loud talking."

"Sorry, buddy," Buck says.

"It's okay. I'm happy now that you finally know now that you love each other the way you do. It was frustrating to wait for you to realize that, you know."

"So, you already know before us?" Buck asks.

"I mean, it was pretty obvious."

"Why do you all keep saying that?"

Christopher laughs.

"So, you're okay with me and Buck?" Eddie asks Chris.

"Yeah, and I've been telling my friends already since before that I got two dads. You and Buck."

Buck laughs and then smiles as he fondly looks at Eddie and Chris. And hell yeah, he loves them so much. His two boys. His family.

--end---

#buddie #buck and eddie #buck x eddie #buckley diaz family #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley

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typingatlightspeed · 24 days

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TF2 Fanfic - Someone Else's Song Chapter 1

Engineer needs to do something about his crush on Spy. So Pyro convinces him to write him a love letter. Unfortunately, Spy reads way too deep into things and ends up spending a whole week trying to crack a code that doesn't exist. He also, somewhat to his consternation, ends up decoding his own feelings for someone on the team in the process. Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Ao3 Link!

I'll fully admit this one is dumb as hell but the fun kind of dumb where the mercs get to be little shits lol. Just, uh, ignore how Scout is better at reading in this than in canon. It's for the bit, dammit. Also spot the Simpsons joke!

---------

Pyro looked from the page in his gloved hands—typed up on the publicly available typewriter in the rarely-used records office on base—to Engineer, who was doing his level best to avoid eye contact, his face bright red as he inspected contents of his coffee cup like the answer to all of life's questions was hidden beneath the last dregs of the beverage inside. "I mean, the wording definitely doesn't sound like you, so between that and typing it instead of handwriting, I don't think he's gonna guess from that."

Engineer sighed a little, relieved. "It don't sound like no one else on the team, does it?"

"Aside from maybe Spy himself? I don't think so." Pyro set the letter back down on Engineer's workbench. "It should keep him guessing. But if you don't give him any clues, how's he gonna guess it's you?"

Engineer mulled that over a little. "Him knowin' it's me is kinda what I'm tryin' to avoid."

"Knowing it's you and guessing it's you are two totally different things!" Pyro shook his head. "Look, I get that you don't think you've got a shot, but the whole reason I said a love letter was the best way to get these feelings out is because you can get a feel for whether he's interested or not! If you don't give him anything to go on, he's gonna give up, Engie!"

"This ain't a 'come an' get me' letter!"

"No, but if he's intrigued enough to try and find out more, then you know he's not turned off by the idea that someone on the team's into him! And if you give him just a few breadcrumbs, he won't be able to turn down a mystery. Hell, he might dig that, that you know him well enough to know he wants a little mystery, a little bit of a chase, right?"

"You know so much about him, maybe you should be movin' in on him, 'stead of me," Engineer pouted, setting his coffee down.

"Pfft," Pyro dismissed him with a wave of his gloved hand. "I don't go in for these backdoor shenanigans."

Rolling his eyes, Engineer set his hands on his hips. "Well what do you suggest, then?"

Pyro tapped at the filter of his mask in thought. "Well, you typed it up, so unless you wanna try sneaking down to the records room again without being noticed, I'd suggest something quick and simple. Maybe a signature? You didn't even put a pseudonym, or a title. Like, 'your secret admirer' or something!"

Taking the page from Pyro's hand, Engineer set it on his drafting table, looking it over in thought. Pyro was right. He was terrified that Spy would suss it out immediately and reject him outright. He wasn't exactly a man that shared similar tastes to the fancy Frenchman. In spite of himself, however, he couldn't help but get giddy at just the thought of those bright blue eyes, that strong, aquiline nose, the adorably silly way he snorted when he laughed too hard. How in the hell did he manage to turn from a hardened killer in his forties to a blushing schoolboy?

Seizing one of his drafting pencils, Engineer considered for a long moment. How would he sign this love letter? What identity would he give this fictionalized version of himself, a breadcrumb for Spy to cling to without fully giving himself away? With a sigh, he scribbled down the first thing he could think of that wasn't obvious.

"N.G.?" Pyro read, over Engineer's shoulder?

"Well it ain't like I could use D.C., that'd be a dead giveaway. Nobody on the team's got an initial in common. So I just pulled two letters that don't match anyone on the team at all."

Pyro turned to his friend and stared at him long and hard through darkened lenses. He shook his head. "Yeah, yanno what? Sure, fine, it works." He threw up his hands and walked off, utterly done. "Good luck, Engie."

"T—thanks, Py," Engineer replied, confused at his friend's response.

The next day's match was a late start, leaving everyone utterly exhausted by its end, which pushed into the twilight hours. More importantly, the late start left everyone champing at the bit to get going at its beginning, leaving Engineer ample chance to sneak the folded note into Spy's locker without anyone noticing.

When at last the final bell sounded and the day was called to an end, the team ambled in from the field, spent and sore. The day's mission had been a payload defense, which was always grueling work that lacked a finality and catharsis in victory that holding a control point, capturing points, or retrieving a briefcase full of intel would always bring. Instead, it was simply a matter of holding pressure until at last the other team could push no longer, and it left them all battered and weary. It was with this bone-deep exhaustion that they returned to their lockers after the match, setting down their weapons and tools and undressing before they hit the showers, chattering idly about the highs and lows of the day.

"...and that's why, man. Ain't no way their Demo ain't got it out for me or somethin'," Scout said, continuing his long-winded theory as to his problems of the day.

"No more'n any of 'em do," Sniper countered, hanging up his hat and shedding his sunglasses. "You just keep gettin' in the bloke's way, mate. I keep tellin' you. It's not targeted if you keep stumblin' into 'is sticky traps."

"He keeps settin' 'em right where I'm goin'!" Scout replied, tugging his shirt off. "It's like the guy's got a grudge!"

"Your poor battlefield awareness is not the manifestation of a grudge," Spy shot with a roll of his eyes, stubbing out his cigarette on his shoe and finally making it to his locker. He lifted an eyebrow, immediately clocking the new addition to his possessions. "Hello now, what's this?"

"Man, I got plenty a' battlefield awareness! I got battlefield awareness comin' out my ass! Ain't nobody know the ins an' outs a' that field better than me you snooty fro—hey what's that?" Scout interrupted his own self-aggrandizement to peer at the letter that sat in the upper cubby of Spy's locker, where the rogue was also staring, studying, trying to be sure there were no traps attached. Scout merely ducked around him and snatched up the paper with a flourish and set to opening it.

"Scout! You idiot, there could be a trap! Or contact poison! Or—"

"'Spy," he nodded to the older man, holding the letter out of his reach as he grabbed for it," I find you fascinating in a way I can't shake. I'm fixated on you. You're all I can think of when my mind turns to idle thoughts, and those thoughts are a mixture of adoration and lust. Hoo buddy, this is gettin' spicy!" He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, dodging around Spy's grasping hands and hopping up onto the bench in front of the lockers. His voice grew more dramatic as he read." It's driven me to distraction and the kind of madness only alleviated by some sort of action. " He grinned down at Spy, who had given up on trying to snatch the letter from his grasp, his face growing pink with embarrassment.

"But I have doubts as to whether I'd be welcomed. Feelings beyond surface-level are impossible to read with you, which makes sense. You wouldn't be the deeply capable spy you are if you were an open book. What a fuckin' brown-noser. Your skill and talent are part of what make you so damnably attractive, if frustratingly mysterious."

The rest of the team had finished piling into the room, gathering around the bench as Scout read aloud for the group. Pyro had his hands on his hips, shaking his head. The kid could be such a dick sometimes, and he could practically feel Engineer dying behind him, the shorter man wilting as he tried to pretend to be surprised.

"So," Scout threw an arm out, giving it all the performance he could muster, "all I can do is write this and leave it where you can find it, so I can finally get this off of my chest. Yours..." everyone leaned in with interest, stricken with curiosity as to who had written such a note. Scout pulled the letter away from his face, holding it out for Spy to take, "N.G."

"N.G.?" Spy asked, finally snatching the paper from Scout's hand, holding it up for his eyes to scan hurriedly across. Everything was spelled correctly, and there was no unusual capitalization. A quick look at the paragraphs showed no immediate pattern in word choice, and everything but the name was typed, so handwriting couldn't be analyzed. From a cursory glance, where was no clue as to whom had written the letter. He took a deep breath, and looked from the page to the assembled mercenaries, his cheeks burning.

Four and a half sets of eyes and two pairs of lenses all stared back at Spy, and from a glance, he could discern nothing but surprise and curiosity from all of them. He swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure. "It seems someone is...smitten with me," he said slowly, the reality of the situation dawning on him.

Scout guffawed from his spot on the bench, hopping down next to Spy and throwing his arm over the taller man's shoulders. "Hope you like sausage, pally, 'cause ain't nobody got access to this locker room but us chuds." He grinned and gestured broadly to the assembled men in the room, all of whom averted their eyes bashfully at the suggestion.

Spy lifted an eyebrow at Scout, then rolled his eyes in annoyance. The little shit was right, but he didn't have to come out and say it. Whoever wrote the note, it was one of seven possible suspects.

Even if Scout were oblivious as to why it was the worst possible outcome if he were the author—and Spy had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't as oblivious as he played, considering the occasional cracks Heavy would make—there was no way he would have been able to spell half of the words on the letter, let alone define them. And he certainly wouldn't go reading the damned thing aloud for everyone just to embarrass Spy. That was one worst-case-scenario squared away, at least, so Spy didn't have to worry about the logistics of a murder-suicide.

No, it was down to Soldier, Pyro, Demoman, Heavy, Engineer, Medic, or Sniper. His eye swept over them all, and he turned his mouth up into a straight line. All of them were uncomfortable under his gaze, which was only fair. After all, they were all in a room together, and Scout was clearly ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness for immediate mockery.

Spy tried to think it beneath him to do the same if the tables were turned, but he knew better. He would be the first to tease Scout and his prospective beau mercilessly, so it was only fair that he suffered the same fate, really. Though it seemed unfair that whoever it was who had placed the letter should be so shamed, particularly when it was already very clearly a labour just to make this barest gesture.

Among a team of straightforward, brash, confident men, it was certainly surprising.

Either way, standing around and letting Scout hang about as his personal gadfly wouldn't make it any easier. "How eloquent," Spy finally sighed drolly, knocking Scout's arm off of him and straightening his jacket. "Well, nobody is stepping forward, so there's no point to standing here, covered in dirt and sweat and stinking up the place. Gentlemen." He put the letter back in the cubby of his locker and set to undressing.

"You're gonna shower? With everyone? Knowin' you got a target on your ass? That one a' the guys is gonna be eyein' you up like fresh meat?" Scout balked.

"If he hasn't been noticed taking looks yet, he scarcely will risk it now," Spy announced, unbuttoning his jacket. He smiled, looking to the younger man, who seemed absolutely scandalized. "And if he does, then hopefully he will enjoy the show."

That brought a chuckle out of Heavy and Sniper, who peeled off to go change as well, the rest of the team following suit, conversations springing up among them as they undressed, grabbed their towels and shower kits and headed in to go wash.

"So yer intae blokes?" Demoman asked as Spy walked past him to the showerhead on his blind side. He shed his towel and hung it on the wall, and turned on the water, letting it run and get warm before stepping under its spray.

"I am into interesting people," Spy replied, setting himself up in turn. "I have preferences that interest me more than others, of course, but someone's gender does not disqualify them, no."

"Ye great pouf," Demoman chuckled. "Figured as much."

"You're one to talk," Spy chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Not a man on this base believes your line about that business with the BLU Soldier being just about friendship."

Demoman heaved a heavy-yet-quiet laugh. "Aye, fair enough."

Engineer stood at Spy's other side, his eyes straight ahead, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. He heard a snort from the other direction, and turned to see Pyro looking pointedly at him, grinning. His eyes went wide, and he shut them, turning his face into the water spray. Little shit was going to get him made. But he knew why he was doing it. He'd heard it too. Spy was into men, and that meant he wasn't out of the game yet.

Whether Spy would think he's an interesting person, though, that remained to be seen.

"N.G.," Spy mumbled, looking about the mess table at his coworkers, watching them with keen eyes.

"So mysterious!" Medic tittered, looking across at Spy as he picked at his dinner.

"Yes. Very mysterious," Heavy agreed flatly, sitting beside the doctor. He cast a look about the table, wondering if nobody else had put together the very obvious pseudonym of its author. In spite of himself, he didn't let his eye linger on Engineer. The poor man had to build up the courage just to leave a love note; it would be cruel to out him. Though Heavy was surprised; he didn't figure Engineer for such a coward. The man was normally so plain-spoken. But then, matters of the heart were fickle. Who was he to judge?

Especially as Spy was busy analyzing every single one of them for the slightest tell, trying to socially engineer his way into a solution through sheer force of will, making them all squirm under his curious scrutiny. Heavy was grateful that it wasn't him who held a torch for Spy. He wouldn't be able to maintain a straight face under such intense study. He almost pitied Engineer.

But then, he'd asked for this, quite literally.

"Any theories?" Sniper teased, gesturing to Spy with a fork full of salisbury steak.

"Considering his dismay, I've safely eliminated Scout from the running."

Everyone nodded. That was obvious for other reasons, but they all knew better than to say it.

Scout made a face at the possibility. "Fuckin' miracle anyone wants to fuck you."

"Thank you," Spy dismissed with annoyance. "Otherwise? I do not know. I have theories as to who it isn't, but as to who it is? That is trickier."

"I did not write your letter," Soldier announced.

"I know, you don't know how," Spy replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Damn right!"

"Don't just tell him!" Pyro chastised, whacking Soldier on the shoulder. "That takes away the fun! Let Spy solve it!"

"I assure you, he did not provide me with new information just now," Spy said drolly. He finished his dinner and downed the last of his drink. "But thank you, mon ami."

Pyro beamed.

"Regardless, I think I will get nowhere surrounded by everyone, and I suppose I owe it to the author to perhaps approach him in private, once I have deduced his identity. As such, I will retire for the evening. If you'll excuse me." Spy rose from his seat, taking his dishes to the kitchen to wash before leaving mess for the evening with a casual wave to the team on his way out.

They all stared after him, and when the door closed, immediately turned to one another, staring hard at each other, accusingly. Except for Heavy, who just shook his head.

"I'm impressed! I didn't realize you held such a high opinion of him," Medic said, leaning in to grin at Sniper.

"Me? What're you lookin' at me for? I'm not interested in that bloody snake!" Sniper snapped, reeling back in his seat. He pointed to Demoman, "Demo's obviously this N.G. bloke, tryin' shamelessly to pull 'im in the showers!"

"Tryin' tae pull 'im?! I was jus' askin' a question! And a fair one at that! Nae a single one o' ye thought tae clear it up if N.G. even had a chance! If Spy only wanted birds, it'd all be pointless anyway! Ye cannae say ye were nae curious!"

"If Spy only wanted birds, only Doc'd have a chance," Scout snorted, deeply entertained by the chaos.

"Is that a joke about my pets, or are you suggesting I'm a woman? Answer carefully," Medic grunted.

"What's wrong with being a woman?" Pyro asked, fanning the flames.

"Absolutely nothing, other than I don't appreciate being misgendered simply because I do not strut around aggressively asserting my masculinity every three minutes like some insecure, immature Dummkopf!"

"That's big talk from a guy walkin' around callin' everyone a dumbhead!"

"Scout," Heavy warned, though he was quickly drowned out by Sniper.

"You're awful quiet, Truckie," he observed with a smirk, looking down the table at the shorter man.

Engineer choked on the water he was drinking, breaking into a coughing fit upon being called out. The table erupted in laughter, and once his throat was clear, he glared daggers at the assassin at the other end of the table. "I'm tryin' to eat my damn dinner's why I'm quiet, Stretch. Ain't nobody's business but Spy's who's sweet on him, and it's uncouth to sit around cacklin' like a bunch of hens speculatin'."

Everyone shared a look. Medic bit his lip. Demoman pouted, trying to contain a smile. Sniper simply continued smirking, his gaze leveled on his friend. Pyro was glad for his mask to provide a poker face. Scout had a hand clapped over his mouth to contain his giggles.

Heavy simply shook his head. Engineer was right. Engineer was also deeply, deeply obvious. "You are correct, Engie," he said. He rarely used the other man's nickname, but said it now pointedly. "Rude to gossip about teammates' love life, Engie."

Engineer stared hard at Heavy, and the giant smirked as his eyes locked on shadowed lenses.

"But you are not very good at being sneaky, N.G. "

Everyone's eyes alit on Engineer, whose face burned bright red.

"Ohhhhhh," Scout gasped, realization dawning. "Engie, N.G.! That's fuckin' genius, man, I never woulda thought 'a that."

Sniper turned a baffled look to Scout, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Love bloomin' on a battlefield. It's beautiful," Demoman said, wiping at his eye.

"A love letter from the soft-spoken American to his elegant French beau; how romantic!" Medic cooed.

"He ain't my beau!" Engineer replied, his hand curling into a fist.

"Come on, guys, be nice. Imagine how hard it must be to admit that to Spy of all people. He's not known for being gentle to people," Pyro cautioned, trying to deescalate now that it was actively turned on Engineer.

"Yeah, s'pose he can be...intimidatin'," Demoman conceded.

"And flippant," Medic admitted.

"And rude," Sniper pointed out.

"And an asshole," Scout added with a pout.

Engineer frowned harder.

"But he is handsome," Heavy offered with a thoughtful nod.

"What, are you a fanny bandit too?" Scout asked, a bit surprised.

"Keep forgettin' fanny means arse over here," Sniper mumbled.

"Not your business," Heavy shot, "but do not need to like men to understand what handsome man look like."

"Women do tend to fall for his charms readily," Medic observed, thrusting a finger into the air.

"That's true, and ye cannae deny the lad's got charm," Demoman agreed, nodding sagely.

"And we know Demo's a pouf, so there's your expert," Sniper chuckled.

Demoman shot him a look. "He's nae me type, but I'd nae kick the lad outta bed. So I see what you see in him, mate," he said, giving Engineer a wink. At least, he assumed it was a wink.

Engineer's face hit the table, his hardhat flopping off loudly as he slumped into a defeated heap, blushing up to his scalp. "Fellas…"

"Nobody better say a fucking word," Pyro cautioned, pointing a finger and making sure to jab it in the direction of every mercenary at the table. He laid a hand on Engineer's back as the man curled his arms around his head to hide his face. "Or respawn won't be able to save you."

Everyone else reeled back, hands up in surrender. None of them wanted to incur Pyro's wrath.

"What? Us? Say anythin'? No, naw, you got it all wrong, Py! Never never not once, nope. Not me, not us, right, guys?" Scout sputtered nervously, terror edging into his expression as he begged off.

Everyone else nodded in nervous agreement.

"Just can't believe Heavy made it before Spy," Sniper mumbled, casting an apologetic look to the giant, who raised an eyebrow. "No offense, mate. But it's Spy we're talkin' about 'ere."

"Spy's job is partly to decipher intelligence and codes," Medic conceded, laying a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Spy look too hard, miss obvious thing," Heavy sighed, shaking his head. "He is probably trying to find coded message that does not exist."

"It's clever," Demoman chuckled, leaning in to Engineer, who had not lifted his head from the table. "Give the lad a bone tae chew on, a wee mystery tae solve, when the answer's in front o' his face! Just the sort o' thing that'd get his attention, for sure."

"Yeah, well hopefully givin' 'im that bone'll get 'im givin' you his bone, right?" Scout said with a toothy grin.

"Can you not?" Sniper shot, swatting Scout. "Can you be fucking supportive for once?"

"What?! How'm I not bein' supportive?" Scout rubbed at his arm, pouting at Sniper. "Engie's playin' to that rat's interests, and I'm sayin' that's a good thing! It's what he's into, so maybe that'll let 'im hit it! Look if Engie wants to dick Spy down I ain't judgin' nothin' but the guy's taste in men, man!"

Sniper sighed, sitting back in his seat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as Scout turned to Engineer. "You got this, Hard Hat. A love letter, a little mystery? It's cliche but Spy's a big walkin', talkin', smokin' cliche. Bet 'e loves that bodice ripper shit, too. The romance shit. You show up shirtless, all flexin' an' dramatic, sweep the guy off 'is feet? Carry 'im to bed an' lay 'im down an' tell 'im you're gonna ravish 'im? Putty in your hands, pal."

"We still talkin' about what Spy's intae?" Demoman teased.

"Whatchu tryin' to say, Cyclops?"

"I dinnae ken, lemme get me shirt off and do some flexin' for ye and we'll see, aye?"

Pyro chuckled as Scout and Demoman set to bickering, Sniper immediately jumping in to roast them both. He pat Engineer on the back, who he felt shaking with soft laughter, relieved that the worst the team had for him was some gentle ribbing and their own version of being supportive. Now, all he had to worry about was what Spy thought.

N.G.

In ROT-13, that decoded to A.T. Not a man on the team had those initials either, and even the one man with a T, Tavish, had an F and a D for his other initials, so it seemed unlikely. Though he had been friendly in the shower...

He was always friendly in the shower. Spy always stood on his blind side, so conversation lacked awkwardness, and he always wanted to chat while the adrenaline of the field was still fresh. Spy knew that. And that aside, the man was forthright to a fault. If he were his admirer, there'd be no secret about it. He'd make a show of ogling him and ask him out for drinks, brazen as always.

No, Demoman seemed unlikely. Doubly so because Spy knew from experience that the man wrote in Scots, just as he spoke, which made his English even harder to parse in written form.

The writing of the letter was clean, precise, almost designed to be hard to identify. Surely, typing almost all of it had been a clever way to avoid handwriting analysis.

Which would be doubly important for a man with difficult-to-read handwriting. Medic, perhaps? Spy could rarely understand the scribbles the doctor threw onto his blackboards in the lab, and more infuriatingly: official documents that he needed to interact with. It was chicken scratch to his eyes, and he had to fight to make out what the hell the man was even trying to communicate. The love note would have been unreadable in Medic's handwriting, so a typewriter would be a clever move. Certainly, the vocabulary and formality on display seemed a closer fit for him than anyone else on the team.

But Medic had no shame. He certainly only partook in clandestine behaviour spontaneously, improvising his way through life to a degree that frankly stressed Spy the hell out. There was no way the man would bother with a note, let alone typing it up, especially when he maintained that his handwriting was perfectly legible, na schönen Dank auch! He, like Demoman, would likely just come out and say it, likely in an embarrassingly public scenario, likely with an inappropriate amount of familiarity, and wonder why everyone was staring.

No, no, it couldn't be him. Spy grumbled quietly, taking another sip of the whiskey he held in one hand, a pencil threaded between the index and middle fingers of his other hand, which drummed on the top of his desk as he hunched over it, eyes busily scanning the page once again. If there were a substitution cipher, the key would have to be contained in the letter itself, possibly in some sort of pattern in the words.

No clues in the capitalization. No clues in the words that started sentences or paragraphs. He counted the commas and periods, no pattern or morse code to be found. He took another sip of whiskey and sighed.

Soldier couldn't read, and admitted it wasn't him, so that was out. Unless he was trying to throw him off the trail in front of the others...

Heavy, while straightforward and confident, was also cagey with his more easily-bruised emotions. It could be him. Surely, leaving a note and hoping for the best, hoping to avoid the attention of the rest of the team and finding very few excuses to get Spy alone to speak with him, could be his style. The language was florid enough to speak from his poet's heart, but it was also too complex for the man's grasp of English. Had it been in his native tongue, he was sure a love note would read exactly like what one would expect from a doctor of literature. But Heavy would likely never allow any third party to translate something so intimate, and not another soul on the team could even read Cyrillic characters, let alone the Russian language. It seemed deeply unlikely.

That left Sniper, Pyro, and Engineer. Sniper was plain-spoken, but also spent most of his life hiding as part of his livelihood. Caginess made sense, and he knew the man had a better vocabulary than he let on, and could play roles when needed for work. It wasn't impossible that the letter had come from him, but it seemed strange, considering their vitriolic friendship. N.G. had complimented his competence at his job, and competence in one's profession was something Sniper always spoke of priding himself on. It would make sense that he looked for that tendency in a partner, as well. Spy admired the man's commitment to his work, and his pragmatism, but he wasn't sure he could handle being the object of affection of a man who was so pragmatic that he threw piss at people and lived in a van. He shuddered, not crossing the man out in his mental list, but dearly hoping that he wasn't the culprit.

Pyro was a cipher of his own. Most of his dossier was redacted, and he kept much of himself very close to the chest, short of his fondness for cute, childish things and his penchant for talking a lot of shit at the slightest provocation. Spy had never seen him write or read, now that he thought about it, but absence of evidence should never be confused for evidence of absence. He shivered, wondering what Pyro's affection might look like, and leaving a love letter absolutely seemed his style. Typing it rather than doodling it in crayons and markers, though? If if were him, someone else had probably sprung the idea, which suggested co-conspirators. Considering Pyro had been excited to let Spy solve the riddle in the first place, that did make him seem a more likely suspect.

Engineer definitely had the vocabulary, though he only showed it off when he was looking to show off. He was also clever enough to type it to cover his tracks. But would he be the sort to leave a love note? He wasn't exactly the kind of man who wore emotions on his sleeve, usually only allowing camaraderie and anger into the open, like your stereotypical American man. But secretly, was he a romantic?

Spy thought of quiet nights around the campfire, when Engineer would strum his guitar and quietly sing old folk songs to fill the silence, his strong jaw and dark eyes illuminated by the dancing firelight. He'd sing of home, of struggle, of love, of all sorts of things, his warm, throaty voice low and gentle, barely above the strings that hummed along. But this was man who says he's not qualified to answer questions about the nature of beauty. Maybe it was just a matter that one cannot analyze such things objectively; one has to feel them, and his image of propriety got tied up in his concept of logic somewhere along the way? Could there be a romantic behind that facade, betrayed by the beauty of his songs?

Spy set his pen down, looking away from the page to stare off into the middle distance. He took another sip of his whiskey and frowned. Well, shit. He didn't know who this mysterious N.G. was, and he had yet to puzzle out anything about him. But somehow he had just deciphered his own emotions, and was left with a heavy pit in his gut at the realization that, oh no, he had feelings for Engineer.

But what if he wasn't N.G.?

But what if he was?

"Merde."

#TF2 Fanfiction #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 #TF2 Fanfic #TF2 Napoleon Complex #TF2 Engineer #TF2 Spy #TF2 Scout #TF2 Soldier #TF2 Pyro #TF2 Demoman #TF2 Heavy #TF2 Medic #TF2 Sniper

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jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

Creative Writing

Andy Barber x Reader (You)

Warning: Professor-Student relationship (possibly?), College AU, a lot of curses. A bit enemy to friends(?)lovers(?) vibe

W/C: ~4k

Summary: based on this prompt

A/N: dividers are from @firefly-graphics, and I spend another couple of hours on fanfic instead of my deadlines, yay!

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

Week 1

Three minutes into the class, you feel like not only you are listening to complete nonsense, but also you disagree with each and every word that comes out of your professor, who is currently standing on the podium, criticizing the shit out of your favorite author.

You regret selecting Creative Writing just because it sounds fun. Although you have been fairly warned by seniors, who took this class last year, Professor Andy Barber who taught Creative Writing runs his class with a tight fist, and of course, not kind with his comments and his marking. Not only does he want the “best” answer from students in class, but also ask everyone in the class to address him as “sir” or “Professor”.

Though he is fairly hot, as the seniors have warned you, with the trimmed beard and occasionally slipped-out Bostonian accent, with the suit and shirt and tie.

To be honest with yourself, you have been writing fanfic and whatnot for over five years, and you hoped that you could learn something from this class to improve your writing. And you love writing. If anything, this awful Professor Barber just gave you more reason to stay, because you want his approval, even if it would only be demonstrated via your grades.

You are not a quitter.

“Now speaking of a writing example that I highly recommend; this is a work I recently come across. Twenty thousand e-copies have been sold so far, now that’s a pretty good number for an author. I don’t expect you to read it thoroughly after class, but the writing style and the balance between story-telling and own reflections of the main characters are something that you should learn from.” Professor Barber takes off his glasses, twirling the frame between his fingers, hitting the button that would let the computer display the next slide.

You huff. You seriously doubt he would present anything barely readable to actual humans. Considering his comments on your favorite book, you take a rough guess that the only thing he will recommend is ancient European Lit.

Except ancient European Lit wouldn’t be in creative writing class.

You lift your head from your iPad, and you widen your eyes, unable to contain the astonishment on your face. Your jaw slams on the table – if it could, while in reality, you press your palm to your mouth, crushing your cheekbones so hard, that you feel your jaw will disconnect the next second.

Your mind blank, unable to come up with any thoughts. Apart from “THIS IS NOT HAPPENING”. In all caps.

On the slide, there is one picture, cropped out from a chapter online. Two paragraphs on the picture, the first describes the action and the verbal communication of two characters; the second describes the mental activity of one character. Below the picture, there is a bracket that contains the source of this snapshot.

The bracket and what’s in it catch your eyes, before the picture.

Well, if it isn’t your damn penname from 9th grade staring right at you in the face.

(A. Vulpecula, 2020)

Your dumb idiot self wanted something unique and stand out among all the writers in the world. You were, unfortunately, in your Harry Potter phase, and wouldn’t it be a brilliant idea to pick your penname out of constellations, just like a lot of Slytherins?

You ponder what on earth have you written in 2020, raising your head to read your own writing.

Shit, at least it wasn’t your College AU.

This piece is a long story about a witch and a demon. The paragraphs he cropped out happened to be where the witch and the demon didn’t know each other’s true identity.

Your face is burning. You don’t know if you are humiliated by reading your own fanfic in your fucking college class, or if you are gloating because the man who criticized your favorite author thinks your writing is exceptional.

Yes, that “thing” on the screen started out as fanfic.

You also don’t know whether you want to quit this class right this second or stay to hear his opinion on your work.

Or if there’s any value in his comments at all.

Your humiliation doesn’t stop there.

Oh no, it gets way worse.

At least ten slides are focused on your witch/demon au. Barber actually likes your concept of a magical world. He goes on to explain the importance of details, which runs along your story, complimenting how your designs fit perfectly into your story and your characters.

You are flattered, you guess?

But also extremely awkward when he pulls more examples from your fanfic to illustrate his idea.

“Alright, for the upcoming three weeks, we are going to look into more stories. Here is the reference reading, remember to take notes. If you want to, send me a short story or a few paragraphs you have written via email before Wednesday, no more than 500 words, and I’ll see you here next week.”

Before you even notice, the class is over. You, however, are still shocked over the fact that your mean professor likes your work.

You grab your iPad and your bag slowly, scoffing as a bunch of girls swarm up to the podium and giggling, asking Professor Barber for his contact information.

“My email address is in the course handbook, so are the office hours. If you have questions, send an email or make an appointment prior.” He nods them off coldly, though this does not discourage the girls from swooning over his broad shoulders and back under his navy-blue suit.

Your barely-friend sighs, jumping off the podium, obviously displeased by Barber’s cold demeanor. She counts as a “barely friend” because she’s just as active in class as you. Though you sometimes don’t like the way she disregards the lecturer and whisper-yell in your ear when she doesn’t understand.

She pouts: “Can’t get a hold of him.”

“You can always book an appointment for his office hour.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, shrugging, “seniors said he was harsh. I wouldn’t recommend you ‘contact’ him too much.”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

“True.” You wave your hand as a goodbye, leaving the lecture room and a bunch of disappointed girls.

Week 2

On second thought, you should have quitted this class.

Because then you wouldn’t be listening to this ridiculous remark about description over characters.

“I’m just going to let you sit on it for a minute.” Professor Barber pauses his lecture, “think about why Vulpecula describes the man’s blue eyes and red flannel.”

Then there’s silence in the room.

Knowing how easily he gets disappointed, you are not surprised.

Barber wants the “answer”, the best one, the correct one. Well, shocker that students don’t know what he has in mind.

However, in your opinion, which is: For Christ’s sake, the celebrity, Chris Evans, on whom you are basing this fanfic, has a red flannel.

What else are you going to write? Him wearing a suit being a lumberjack? In the middle of nowhere? In a fucking forest?

“What do you think?” Your barely-friend whisper-yells to your ear. Sitting in the front row, she probably makes herself heard for Professor Barber.

You lean away from her, toying with the hem of your sweatshirt, whispering back: “No idea. I’d probably say brings out the characteristics and stuff like tha-”

“Is there something interesting you’d like to share with the class, Miss …?”

Professor Barber lands his piercing sharp gaze on the two of you. Your friend ducks her head to read on her laptop. While you spare a glance at her, you silently spew a curse in your mind.

“Well, Miss…? What do you want to share with the class?”

Great. Now his gaze lands solemnly on you.

You state your name, most unwillingly, and usher out the only reasonable response you can think of: “… because the character the author is basing on has blue eyes and red flannel?”

He repeats your name, “I’d like you to address me as Professor, or Sir. Anybody else?”

He didn’t even say if your theory was interesting, needs work, or some other commentary, which he normally does, trying to inspire thinking and criticality. Like that’s going to work with his tight fist.

You roll your eyes out loud.

“I think red flannel brings out the main character’s – Christopher’s -warm and welcoming character. Red symbols the feeling of fire and warmth, and it’s only plausible that he’s wearing that color, Professor.” Your barely-friend fake coughs, then chirps “her” answer with great confidence.

Professor Barber nods, humming with approval, “very well, you are on the right track. Anybody else?”

Yeah, like anybody is going to know better than you, the author, about how and why you choose to describe his red flannel.

You begin to ponder the question, how is it possible that people interpret too much into the text they are reading? How much people are reading these days are actually the thoughts of critics instead of the authors?

But you are not standing up and revealing that you are A. Vulpecula.

Maybe in your next life but not now.

However, seeing the shocked expression on Barber’s face would be worthwhile.

You can almost imagine how his red lips form an “O” and he stutters due to the bomb you deliberately drop in front of him.

You bite your lips from smiling, too indulged in your imagination to notice Barber glaring at you a couple of times.

“Just a quick reminder that I wouldn’t be looking into more works that are submitted after today. If you want a little feedback on what you have written, send me an email before 12 o’clock midnight. Again, this is not compulsory, it wouldn’t affect your marking, think of it as a fun exercise.” Professor Barber announces once more, shutting off the projector, “we will discuss the coursework for this week next time. Class dismissed.”

Students take their belonging and move slowly toward the exit. You are sitting in the middle of the front row, which means, you are going to be stuck here for a while. A few girls go to the podium to ask questions, which you tune out completely when their questions become giggles.

You are scrolling through your phone when someone calls you by your last name.

Surprise, surprise, it’s Andy Fucking Barber.

“Yes?” You put your phone away, confused as to why he is talking to you.

“Yes, Professor. And I would expect you to pay more attention in class,” his blue eyes feel like ice, numbing your body inch by inch, “that’s all.”

Mother – Fucking - Idiot dickhead - Thickest skull in the fucking galaxy - Every curse word inside your head is cut off by one another, tangling together because none of them is able to describe your fury.

How dares he?

You were paying attention to class compared to at least two-thirds of the students present here. Focus on the word “present”, because you are fairly certain some of them skip this class because Andy Shithead Barber is too harsh.

So what you didn’t provide the answer he had in mind? And the answer he liked was not even close to your thoughts when you wrote that chapter.

You are fuming. You grab your bag and go to the library, sit there for the next two hours, and post a chapter on your Tumblr account about a love story between two vampires.

Your anger blend into your motivation to write. You wrote four thousand words in two hours, which is a record.

Yeah, you will show Mr. Professor Sir your “attention to the class”, see if he likes it next week.

Week 3

You are sure this would be the death of you.

He sent you an email two days prior, asking you whether you have time to discuss your piece of writing in his office, right after his class.

Of course, you RSVP-ed yes, but you have completely no idea why he wanted to talk to you, while other students have already received their feedback.

“OOOOOhhhhhhh, he said I am creative, but my descriptions are a little too detailed.” Your barely-friend squeaks dramatically, earning herself a silent eye-roll from you.

You can’t think of any reason that could explain his email. You wrote as yourself, you have given him a piece of your ongoing work, which was about two vampires. You are satisfied with your work. He could have just written feedback and sent it to you, even if he didn’t like your writing. What could possibly be the problem here?

Professor Barber takes off his suit jacket, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbow, his calm voice circles the classroom, “coursework from last week, anyone has any idea about why the author wrote ‘There are two trees in the yard. One is a jujube tree. The other is also a jujube tree’?”

You turn to the page of your notes, not looking up at him, “because that’s exactly what the author sees when he looks out of his house?”

As if it couldn’t have been worse, with an extra reminder for you to call him “Professor”, his cold blue eyes glide over you, commenting on your answers to his questions that your ways of thinking and dissecting texts are “far from those of an author”.

His words, not yours.

At this point, you don’t even bother listening to his comments, instead, you start writing on your iPad.

Might as well use the time to do something at least meaningful.

“Did you make an appointment with him before, like during office hours?” When the class is over, you ask your barely-friend in a low voice.

“No.” She shakes her head, a smirk on her face, “I’m trying my best not to get on his bad side. Why? Why’d you ask?”

Like you were trying to. You get on his bad side so very easily. You grunt a “nothing”, waiting for Barber to finish packing his things.

“Okay, see ya!”

Your barely-friend slips out of the room.

You highly doubt if Barber wants you in his office because he would like to give you a compliment.

Andy Barber calls your name to snap you out of your mind. He has shrugged on his suit jacket, his lecture notes in hand, “shall we?”

At least his office is in this building so you don’t have to endure the long and awkward silence when you are walking.

You follow him into his office.

His office is a small room. Three desks are put together, taking up most of the space. His desk is by the window, equipped with computers and office supplies, while he points at the empty desk near the door, “please, have a seat.”

He drags his chair over to sit on the same side of the same desk as you. He sighs, taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally, he puts on his glasses again, rubbing his bearded chin, “do you know why you are here?”

“The homework of 500 words …?” You chew on your lower lip, hesitant to give him the answer.

“It’s Professor or Sir. And yes.” He sits straight on his chair, his blue eyes staring into you, his voice sterner than ever, “and?”

You let out a long breath, gathering enough courage to say what you have always wanted to say in the last three weeks, “to be honest, I have completely not the slightest clue what you want me to say.” You pause, then add a word for good measure, “Sir.”

He sighs again, taking a moment to organize his words, “the reason you are here today is that I want to talk to you about academic malpractice. Now it might not be stressed enough in your past studies, but the university takes academic malpractice very seriously.” He slows down as if trying to imprint you with each and every word he says.

Your brows furrow: “And how does that have to do with…”

He is NOT implying what you think he means, right?

He is NOT implying that you copied someone’s work, right?

Or you let someone copy your work?

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You cross your arms, almost defensive, looking back at him in disbelief, “I can guarantee there’s no academic malpractice.”

Pause.

Oh right, you nearly forget, “Sir.”

“I’m gonna cut to the chase here.” Sir Professor Andy Barber pulls over his own laptop, turning it toward you so that you can clearly see the content on his screen, “the document on the left is your work, the one on the right is a chapter of A. Vulpecula’s stories.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms too, allowing what he said to sink in, “can you see the similarity?”

Um.

Okay.

You did not expect this. Not one bit.

Of course, what he shows you are two identical snippets.

But since when is “presenting something that you have personally written” a crime?

You cannot hide the amusement on your face. No matter how hard you try to suppress your grin, it just keeps getting wider and wider.

“I know that it’s only homework, a practice at writing, if you will,” he gestures at the screen, unaware of your grin at first, “it won’t be reported to the university, but I strongly suggest you, not to copy other’s work just because you would like to impress your lecturer.”

He stops talking when he sees your expression, which must be a mix of half-laugh and holding back, though none of the above successful.

“I’m sorry, is there something funny?”

His voice ice-cold, clearly not pleased with your reaction, your behavior, and you as a human being.

Yeah, you can tell he is pissed.

“No, nothing,” you nearly snort out because of suppressing your laugh, “please, continue.”

“No. Indulge me.” He purses his lips into a thin line, blue eyes so sharp that they could pierce your skin.

Silence.

You thought about letting the misunderstanding of “academic malpractice” grow, but if there’s one thing you simply could not abandon, it would be your academic integrity.

You cross your legs, loosening your arms, “I just … I find it funny because I submitted my own work.”

You wait for your words to sink in.

Barber shakes his head in disappointment, “academic malpractice is what -”

“I have submitted my own work.” You cut him off, “I am A. Vulpecula.”

You really don’t mind beating the information into his thick skull.

But, alas, battery & assault is a crime here.

You pull out your iPad, opening the folder of manuscripts. Clicking on the vampire AU, you show him your own manuscript and what you have written in the past hours.

“I can post this chapter early to prove my point, if you like.” You lay your iPad in front of him, leaning back in your chair, “anything else, Professor?”

More silence.

“No. Nothing.” His mouth slightly agape, not entirely what you had in mind, but close enough, “thank you for coming by.”

“No worries.” You pack your things, heading to the door. “For the record,” you turn on your heels before stepping out of his office, “week 2, the discussion about the red flannel?”

“Yes?” He raises his head.

“That was really because Chris Evans has a red flannel, Sir.” You look at him one more time, then lower your eyes, “goodbye, sir.”

Two months later, you are celebrating with your friends in a pub, that the finals are over.

Your real friends, not your barely-friends.

“Phew! Tell me about what you wrote for your Creative Writing!” Your friend fans her tongue for having swallowed a shot, nudging you to tell them more about your major and your classes.

You down your shot in one gulp, wincing due to the burn in your throat, “well, I did learn my lesson. I wrote a new piece, about a cheesy princess-bodyguard romance.”

Your friends don’t know about the full story. You altered the details a little, not telling them about you being a part-time some-what-famous writer, but enough for them to understand your situation.

“We also had this ridiculous lecturer, a skinny guy, who keeps asking you why about everything and every question-” Your friend rambles about her life story, with a round of “No way” “No shit” “What???”.

“I’m gonna need drinks, not shots.” Another one of your friends stands up, dragging you along with her to get drinks, only for her to dump you at the bar while she hurries to the bathroom.

You wait for the bartender, slightly bored.

“Hey,” your first name was called, a slight tap on your shoulder having you turn around. Andy Barber is standing in front of you. He is wearing a casual shirt without ties, and denim from the waist down. With a beer in hand, he smiles at you, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Likewise,” you nod curtly, “Sir.”

He waves his hand as if it was nothing, “please, no need for that, Sir or… just no.” He smiles nearly apologetically, “I never get the chance to say I enjoy your writing. I’m sorry for discouraging you in class. You are an exceptional writer.”

This takes you by surprise.

“Oh! Okay…? Thanks?” You twist your fingers together, unable to think of anything that could respond to him, “I’m … flattered?”

“Please, if anyone is flattered, it’s me. I am very glad to meet an author I appreciate.” He extends your hand for you to shake. You shake his hands lightly, engulfed in his large and warm hand for a second.

The friend who abandoned you for bathroom slings an arm around your shoulders, although she can barely walk straight, “oooohhhhhh, I think he’s cute!” She yells in your ear, giggling, “you should sleep with him!”

You are pretty sure Professor Barber heard that.

He looks flustered, his neck a shade redder than before, mumbling, “I suppose I’ll leave you with your friends.”

Speaking of your friend, she disappeared – more like dashed - to your table with your drinks, yelling to your other friends about how you are “getting laaaaaaaaid” tonight.

“There goes my ‘said’ friend.” You chuckle, “it’s nice seeing you, Professor.”

Barber lowers his eyes before looking into yours, his blue eyes sparkling with joy, “please, I’m not teaching you anymore. Call me Andy.”

#andy barber #defending jacob #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber fanfiction #college au #angst with a happy ending #sort of?#enemies to friends to lovers (?)#also sort of #professor andy barber #student reader #creative writing #dancing in the daydream

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redrydersrequiem · 1 year

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Reunited chapters 4

Previous chapter. Next chapter

As always this is a baby fanfic I’m trying my best and i wish everyone love. Please be nice ok. Sorry this one isn’t as long I’m making this up as i go so yeah I’m also starting a new job soon that has a lot of training so i may not have a new chapter out soon just bare with me everyone

Jakes pov

Since the kids have been rescued everything’s been crazy to say the least. I want nothing more than to take my family and leave. The RDA is after me and I can’t put the people I've led for nearly 15 years in danger. But at the same time this is my home and I don't want to leave. I don't want to force Neytiri and the kids to leave all that they’ve known. I sit here fiddling with wood when norm comes rushing up to me

“Jake. Jake!”

“What’s up?” Norms blue as a ghost shock evident all over his face causing me extra worry.

“You…you got to see something. Bring neytiri”

And with that norm rushes back towards the labs. I quickly grab tiri and we make our way over to the lab. Norm now in his human body rushes over and waves us to follow him

“What’s going on Norm?”

“Ok ok you know how a while back we put a bunch of trail cameras around the area just to study the wildlife.

“Yeah”

“Well we even managed to get one on one of the mountains facing the ikran rookery.”

“What is your point” neytiri states pointedly at norm

“I'm getting to that here, here it is, watch.”

The video plays, it shows a team of avatars all in army garb stumbling into the rookery. They all look around at the various ikran while they take cover at a fallen tree branch the clan uses for cover as well

“Quartich… that's Wainfleet and there’s Mansks, Zdinarski, damn they’re all back.

“Yeah but that's not all, keep watching.”

The tape zooms in to show quartich taming his ikran the idiot punching it in the face but what catches my eye is the recom that rushes over to the ledge

“Who’s that?”

“That’s what i'm asking you look at them”

The tape zooms in further. Showing the concerned face of the unknown recom. She is pretty sure. Longer hair than the others a worried expression as she approaches Spider and starts heading away from the ledge. When quartich shoots back up And the women rushes back to quartich throwing her arms around his neck that i finally recognize her

“No. It can’t be”, I say rushing the screen to look closer.

“Please tell me I'm not crazy,” Norm says to me.

I'm not 100% sure i'm not crazy

“Who is it?” Neytiri asks us both

“It’s Y/N.” “What!”

Neytiri rushes in front of me to look as well. “Oh great mother, praise you.” NeyTiri states looking at her old friend's new face, tracing the features she remembers.

“It can’t be, but how, how are any of them back to be honest.”

“I actually had a theory about that. Back when we all were with the RDA i remember them talking about a project phoenix. They were going to upload their people's memories into Navi bodies. Grace told them they were crazy and that the project would never last or get off the ground. I thought it would have been scrapped after the RDA left and I guess I never really thought of it again. But seeing quartich and the rest of them back it makes sense they would revive her as well.”

“But she was our friend. She was close with all of us hell she has even seen the village……….Oh shit she knows where the old village is. They could have come there already they could have…. “

“Jake relaxe. I've looked over the footage at the old village and no one has been near there. The only place we’ve seen them is near the old base and the rookery. Besides, I remember her doing her videos. The last one she made was when she was about to be at the end of her pregnancy. And then she never really was part of anything else that happened until right up there in the end. So she doesn’t probably know what all the RDA actually did.Thats also to say if the RDA didn’t mess with the videos or anything either. Who knows what side she's on right now. All we can do is pray to eywa she's still the caring smart woman we all remember.”

“From your mouth to her ears. But this just gives us another reason to leave

“What but jake?”

“No, I can't risk them scouting this area for me. Not with y/n or spider being with them that just gives them more chances of finding us”

“Jake you know y/n would never want anything to happen to you and spider is loyal. You guys proactively raised him, so stop acting like he’s already sold you out.”

“Sorry, norm.”

No, I understand you're under a lot of pressure. And after what happened with the kids i can understand the fear,Just promise to weigh out all your options before you make a decision alright

“Alright thank you brother. If you find anything else please let me know”

“I’ve got you jake.”

Neytiri and I leave a holo pad and that old com link in our hand to rewatch the footage and ask the kids if that is who they saw at the clearing. It’s crazy to think they all are back. I was their friend, they were mine, my fellow soldiers, my fellow humans. How did this all get so messed up? Neytiri grabs my hand, squeezing it gently with a sad smile on her face as if she can hear my thoughts. I simply squeezed her hand back as we make our way back towards our home.

Y/n pov

Its been about a month now and unbeknownst to me or anyone else jake and his family are no longer even in the forests they’ve gone to hide away in the ocean clans, much to ardmores frustration and my glee. I know the general has been very hard on miles, waiting for us to quote, get results, and to figure out where they’ve gone. I hate the women, every time I'm near her it's like walking on eggshells. Like she's waiting for me to snap and go bounding into the Forest to never be seen again. Which honestly sounds great but unlike her I'm loyal to my family and friends and would rather die than leave them to be puppets of the rda.

So for now I just bide my time and stay out of her way. We go out every day to ride our ikrans around and learn more about the Forest, giving them the pretenses that we’re doing recom out in the forest when in reality we aren't. Spider can teach a lot but not everything so a lot of it is just us goofing around, learning our bodies' limits in the forest.

Spider has been calling me sa’nu recently, and every time he does I feel my heart grow. Most of the others don’t know what it means so I think he feels more comfortable calling me that then mother in English. He still calls Miles Quaritch but we’re working on it.

Currently Miles and Lyle were seeing who could stay on the floating log the longest both trying to tip the other over into the water below. It’s weird seeing both the serious men that I knew be so playful now. It brings warmth to my heart as Spider cheers next to me. Everyone is at peace right now. Using the excuse that we are getting more used to our new bodies to prolong the RDAs mission of violence.

I've actually been very successful in talking to everyone. I mean they aren't stupid they know that if the RDAs mission is to get rid of the Navi, it's not going to stop with just the actual Navi, eventually the buck will be passed to all of us as well, their blue pets. It’s not until after lunch that we all return to Bridgehead. Spider needs some food and the rest of us have some paperwork and stuff to do. I feed my son with a warm smile on my face as we just relax in the side room for him.

Ardmore pov

I watch the recom team land their animals and jovially walk into their designated area of the base. The video calls ringing stops as my supervisors come on screen.

“What’s the status general”

“Status is looking good sir, the blue team is working perfectly. They were successful in taming the banshees that have been attacking our fleet, we’re confident that they will be able to further get through Pandora's defenses just as the natives do.

“And of jake sully and the raids on our shipments”

“They’ve stopped for now we have reason to believe jake has left the forest we are working on locating him or any of his friends old equipment now”

“Good, and what about corporal L/N, have they showed any side effects from the memory adjustment”

“No sir, not anything that hasn’t been easily explained away.”

“Good keep an eye on this team general we can not afford another loss

“Yes sir”

The video call goes blank. As general Ardmore pinches the bridge of her nose

“Why didn’t you tell them ma’am?”

“Because if i tell them the recom is trying to bond with their human child what will happen to my mission. We are this close to getting our objective and I will not let an emotional woman that wants to play mommy screw it up.

“If need be i'll terminate her and that brat before then.”

“What about the others, wouldn't they retaliate?”

“Well we brought them back once we could do it again if needed, but for now we'll keep her around to keep the rest in place. Have the team and scientists continue to watch the recom squad.”

“Yes ma’am.”

What the general doesn’t realize is that she just sealed her fate. A certain blue soldier heard her every word as he was waiting. To give the general the data she requested of the blue team, but Fike was not about to stick around he’ll just just take the heat for it later but right now he has to get back to his team/his family and warn them of what will happen.

Miles pov

Everyone’s in the play room as they’ve come to call it. All relaxing and going over the terms and words spider had been teaching them the last couple of days. Y/n has been the fastest to pick everything up, of course she was though she’s always loved pandora. Quartich and Lyle are close seconds as everyone else learns and improves at other things. Mansks has been experimenting with the food out there and has come up with some good stuff for the squad. Z-dog surprises everyone with her weaving skills making some pretty good bindings and stuff. Lopez and prager not far behind her.All in all everyone has found someway to benefit the team. Everything peaceful till fike busts through the door like a Thanator is right on his tail.

“Colonel! Colonel.!”

“Fike whats wrong”.

“Colonel its bad”

“What is?”

“It’s the general I was taking the data they wanted and I heard the general talking about L/n”

“What about her

“The higher ups were asking her about our progress but they also asked if y/n if remembered anything she’s not supposed to

“But I have” y/n say nervously waking up to us”

“Exactly but the general lied she said you hadn’t”

“Well isn’t that a good thing”

You’d think so but I also heard her tell another soldier she would get rid of y/n and us in a second if it compromised her mission

Everyone’s somewhat taken back by this revelation. I however am not. I could tell the woman was ambitious. I've met many like her before hell. I was the same for a while. People willing to sacrifice some for the greater good. But now, however, some of it is my family. My team that I’ve just gotten back and I was not about to let that happen. I walk over to the door making sure it’s locked before turning back to my team. Y/n looks worried as she runs her hand through spider's hair as he looks up at her with worry.

“So it’s finally come to this. I knew ever since the beginning of this we would be and are treated differently. It’s just as y/n said we’re their pets.”

Silence fills the room everyone’s focus on me

“ Well I don’t know about the rest of you but I no longer am willing to be someone else’s dog.”

Everyone else shakes their heads and grunts out agreements

“Now I know this is a lot y’all. We would be betraying humanity. We would be exactly like sully”

“Miles.” Y/n says softly but pointedly.” Jake didn’t turn his back on humanity; he saw how wrong we were. I’ve been remembering a lot and I think it’s time we get out of dodge.

“Now darlin hold on”

“I’m sorry, Miles but I’m not losing my son again. I don’t want to lose you again. Please we’re all new people. We can be the people we were and should have been. But we can’t do that under the RDA”

“I agree with her”. Wainfleet expresses out loud

“I know I’m not the one to usually respite orders colonel but this whole situation has been fucked since the beginning. We aren’t even human anymore and we all know that if the rda get their wish and get control of pandora we would be the next check in that list.”

“Well then let’s leave it to a vote. Who feels safe here?” No hands raiser in the air everyone looking everywhere but at me

“Now who thinks we should think about ourselves and figure out an exit plan”. T/n asks softly

Everyone’s heads perk up their eyes trained on her

“Well there is our answer. But we got to be smart about this. We can’t do anything in the base; we're at too high of a disadvantage here”.

“So We’ll have to do stuff while we’re out in the woods”. Wainfleet comments

“Look, we all got another chance. I say we embrace it. We can be our own family, we don't have to be the enemy, I don’t want to watch everyone die again. I refuse”.

“Your right darlin but where do we start will be the biggest question.”

“Maybe we need to reach out to Jake maybe he can help us”

“No not happening”

“Miles Jake was our friend once. If we explain things to him, maybe he will help us.”

“I don’t think it would be Jake you’d have to worry about” spider says from his seat

“Why’s that”

“I mean the rda doesn’t have any good standing with the natives. You guys are basically the boogie man to many people. Especially neytiri and the older generation that was in the war”

“The kid has a point, why would any of the clans help us?” Z dog ask from her spot next to y/n

“If Jake could convince them and eventually join them I’m sure we could. We have to try y’all.”

Y/n is trying to be the positive note but she was always more fascinated with Pandora then any of us. Of course she thinks they would help us.

“Y/n we’ll try but it will need to be probably you and spider to start off with if we’re to get anywhere the rest of us I want to scout around while we’re out to try and find somewhere this team can go and make our own damn clan if we need to. Is that understood

“YES SIR!”

Jakes pov

The metkayina tribe has been very different from what my family is used to. The kids have been trying and I know I'm being hard on them but every time I think to relax the thought of my kids being in the hands of the rda tenses my shoulders. But it's also guilt that has been eating me alive recently. My dreams at night are about when I was human. Playing cards with Mansks wainfleet and Lopez. Chatting with y/n as she does her rounds and helps grace make sure I was still taking care of my own body. Even Quartich, damn I had respect for him. He didn’t treat me differently. He treated me like a soldier from the very beginning and welcomed me into the fold. All of them treated me like family and I quickly turned my back on them. But then sense comes to me and I see my family and the life I've had so far and I wouldn’t trade what I have now for anything.

It’s late afternoon when I hear a ringing sound come from within the Mauri. After finding the com at the bottom of the basket i pick it up

“Hey Jake”

“Hey norm whats up “

“Oh you know just checking in but yeah i have something kinda serious going on

“Oh yeah “

“Yeah check your pad you got to look at what i just found

I do as he asked, checking the file he just sent me. It's an old code that some of us used before the war. The file was a message asking for help, asking for a meeting and giving a com link number to contact. What caught me off guard was the signature of the file. The call sign belonged to none other than Y/N L/N

“Wait what. “

“Yeah I haven’t replied but this was sent to old accounts that aren’t even active anymore. No one would have even seen it if they did hear the beeping in the old storage closet

“It seems Like its y/n trying to reach out to us, what we should do.”

“Damn,” All i can do is pace around the mauri thoughts running a thousand miles an hour in every direction.

“Jake”

“I don't know Norm, let me talk to neytiri and we'll go from there. I don't want this to end up being some kind of trap.”

“I understand Jake, if I get any more messages I'll tell you. You guys stay safe out there ok.”

“We will thank you brother, till later.” Hanging up the com I exhale all the air out of my lungs. I genuinely don't know what to do. It’s crazy that y/n is even alive but now she's trying to reach out to us asking for help. What about the others, are they in on this are they using her as bait. I don't know. I simply stare at the tablet in front of me and wait for neytiri in our home. She finally returns from her tasks around the village and she immediately notices I'm conflicted.

“Ma jake what has happened”

“Tiri i don't know what to do.” Her arms encircle me while I lay my head on her shoulder hoping and praying the oncoming headache will be soothed just by her presence. She pulls away to look at me.

“Come why don't we go fly and then you can tell me what has happened.”

“Yeah.”

The two sully matriarchs left their children food and clear instructions not to do anything stupid as they had their first kind of date night in a very long time. They headed straight for the closest section of forest. Not wanting to go too far from their kids but wanting a taste of the old life.

Now comfortable seated in a tree awning. I try and recollect my thoughts

“Now tell me ma jake what has happened.”

I take out the holo pad and show neytiri what was sent to norm.

“This was sent to Norm through a very old channel. The message is asking to meet/that they need help.”

“Who is it from?”

“It’s from y/n”

“Trully.”

“I have no way of knowing if it's truly from her or not. This could be another trap tiri and I can’t do that to our family.”

Neytiri and I sit there staring at the tablet and just breathing in the smells of the forest around us. Neytiri lifts her head to speak when something from behind me grasps her attention, causing her to let out a light gasp.

“Ma jake look.”

I turn and see a handful of atokirina softly floating towards us. They dangle in the air like butterfly's one floating between neytiri and i to gently land on the tablet in front of us. Neytiri is saying her prayers as I watch amazed at yet another miracle eywa has shown me.

“It’s a sign ma jake thank you great mother…..”

“neytiri i do have to warn you this might bring quartich and the others in with y/n will you be able to handle that.”

I see neytiri frilled with anger at the mention of quartich but I can see she is conflicted. The signs from eywa are not to be taken lightly, but I wouldn’t blame her after everything the rda has taken from us.

“If it is eywas will we will figure it out but for now i simply wish to know if my friend needs help.

I take her hands in mine. Lifting her head to nuzzle our nose together “my strong wife” she just smiles and we. Continue to take in the night around us. Before we have to return back to our children and figure out the logistics of helping our long lost friend.

A couple days later

“So we agree we want to reply to the message? I ask norm making sure he is certain since it would be his life as well on the line if things went south

“Yes”

“Ok norm then send our message and let me know what happens

“I will jake you guys take care “

“Same brother.”

The call ends and all I can do is watch my kids playing in the water. Little tuk is splashing in the waves with Lo’ak and tsireya. Neteyam is supervising bless him. I know ive been hard on him so its moment like these where i can see he's still a kid that needs to have some happiness in his life that choke me up the most. Neteyam laughs at the younger one's antics as he sends a small wave towards Kiri who yells at him, she's sitting half in the water with her journal on her lap lightly sketching some sea creature she's found. She reminds me more and more like grace every day. The only thing missing is a head of dirty blond hair, running around with them. I was worried sick about spider till I saw him on that video but now that I know he's with y/n, my worries somewhat resolve. I know that even if she didn’t know who he was, which is unlikely but who knows what the rda did, she would still take care of him, it was in her nature. A hand gently squeezing my shoulder brings me out of my thoughts. The gentle smile on her face reassures me I'm doing the right thing.

Y/n pov

I sent out the coded message to the old channels. I just pray that it’s answered in the meantime Miles has figured out our exit strategy. He’s found what stuff has trackers in it and where we could go that the rda wouldn’t be able to easily follow. Everyone else has started rationing, stuff to make sure we all have what we need when we're ready to leave. Spider is hopeful that Jake will help us if not him then definitely norm and the others. He hopes.

I hope so as well. I can understand though that they all are probably apprehensive. They have no way of seeing how much miles and the others have changed. Every day in the forest they grow brighter. Becoming more in tune with the forest and pandora. Now feeling somewhat uncomfortable stuck in the metal walls of the bridgehead. I agreed with Miles if by the end of the month we hear nothing we’ll have to do everything ourselves. Till then we’ve been leaving fake trails and clues for the rda to throw them completely off any of Jake's possible trails. I can’t tell it’s frustrating Ardmore tremendously.

I continue to go through the motions of life. The next couple of weeks consist of waking up in Miles' warm arms, just enjoying each other's warmth until he finally decides he has to get up to work out and start on the stupid duties that Ardmore puts on him. I wake up and start making spider some breakfast before getting a mask and going over to his little room to wake him. His cute little tousled hair and sleepy face every morning make me smile. After getting him I take him down to the rec room where he hangs out with someone. Really everyone loves the kid, he’s entertaining and has plenty of energy to keep us all on our toes. His favorite aunt and uncle though are definitely wainfleet and zdog and I think that mostly because they enable him the most but hey i'll take it. It’s not until after lunch that we all gather and get ready for our outdoor time as spider likes to call it

I saddle up to toothless and brush his head and scratch under his chin which he loves. Flying has definitely become a favorite thing for most of us. Especially me, its as so freeing to dash around the sky doing circles around miles and cupcake while he tries to keep up. Spider egging him on to catch up to me or he would start riding with me instead, and of course miles can’t have that hahaha.

We all get a ways away from the base to a clearing we’ve found previously to rest in. We scout the area and set up a little tent and stuff while everyone goes about to either goof around, look around or just plane relax in the fresh non recycled air. I took out the old halo pad and found that I had received a message.

“Miles?”

“What is it darlin?”

“Look we got a reply”

Lets see,” i pulled open the message, it was a simple chain code a number to watch I assumed was a com link.

Hey get you blue asses over here. I hear miles yell to the group. I wait for them all to fall in line and miles fill them in before calling out to the number.

“Hello?” The voice sounds, its not jake but it is a familiar voice.

“Norman?” I ask gently not fully trusting my old memories

“By eywa, y/n is that really you.”

“It’s me. “

“Wait one sec, the halo pad switch’s over to video and finally see the face of my old friend hes in his avatar body with a blank background behind him.

“Wow its really you huh “

“Yeah norm its me, and spiders here to.” Spider jumps up taking the screen from me to. Say hello to norm begfore miles snatch’s the tablet back.

“Your back to huh i here norm say as he sees Miles

“You bet your blue ass i am, Spellman. Me and the rest of my team are back from the dead just for you”

“Miles! I say scolding him as i take the tablet fully back and look back at norm.

“Sorry norm

“It’s fine y/n but you know I have to ask right

“Ask?

“Yeah why are you actually trying to get in touch with us.

“Cause we need your help

“Do you actually or does the rda need prisoners and their using you like a Trojan horse

“Now look here spellman” i hear miles getting ready to chew him out but i stop him giving him a warning look. He reluctantly keeps his mouth shut

“Norm you and i both know the RDA are not exactly friendly with the Navi

“Yes

“Well if they get their way they aren't going to keep around the blue pets they made. And I refuse to lose my family again. We want to help you guys get rid of the RDA. We want to be free and to trully do that we need yours and jakes help.

“I can’t promise anything right now y/n, jake ultimately has the last say,

“I understand.

“That being said though im really glad your back, keep this number and jake or i will send a message soon i promise

“You all better hurry cause Ardmore wants to get rid of y/n.

“What”

“Yeah im a threat to her operation evidently.”

“Damn”

“Yeah so if yall could vote soon please if not were going to have to do it ourselves.

“I got it. Y/n”

“Yeah”

“May eywa be with you.”

“Thank you norm. Till next time”

“Yeah.”

Hanging up the call I can feel a sense of ease mixed with equal parts anxiety run through me and everyone else. The unknown of whether they will help us or not is like a blade hanging over our heads but what else can we do, besides prepare what we can and wait

@myh3artttt @ducks118 @dyingofcookies @navs-bhat

#avatar fanfiction #avatar oc #avatar way of water #miles quaritch x reader #blue team x reader #spider x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri #the sullys

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