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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

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Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

#star wars #thrawn #eli vanto #thrawn x reader #eli vanto x reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #friends to lovers #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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yelenasdog · 4 years

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it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)

genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk

summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.

words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)

warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong.

a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.

“Aren’t they, agents?”

She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.

“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”

We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.

6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia

“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”

My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.

“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.

“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”

Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”

Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.

“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”

Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”

4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York

“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”

I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.

“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”

I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.

“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”

Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.

“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.

I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.

“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.

“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”

I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.

“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”

Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.

“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”

I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.

In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.

As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.

I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.

About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.

“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”

He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.

“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”

A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”

With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.

“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.

“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”

“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.

“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”

I smiled widely at his words.

“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”

I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.

“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”

——————

“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”

“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”

Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.

“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”

Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.

“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”

I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.

“Agent?”

I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.

I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.

“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”

It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.

“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”

“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.

“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”

I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.

“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”

“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.

“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.

“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”

“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”

I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.

After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”

“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”

I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.

“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.

He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.

“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”

I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.

“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”

“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.

“You like animals, right?”

———————

4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York

As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”

I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.

“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”

“Yes I did.”

His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.

“Well did you know that-“

“Ma’am?”

I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.

“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.

“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”

“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”

Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.

“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“

“Look,”

Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.

“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”

She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.

I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.

The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.

I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.

“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.

“Hello, do you by any chance-“

wham!

“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.

“Did she get away?”

I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.

“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.

“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.

————————

F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier

The stress levels in the room were high.

Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.

He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.

“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”

I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.

“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”

I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.

I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.

I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.

Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.

“Y/n?”

It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.

“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”

It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.

“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”

My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.

“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”

I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.

“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”

A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.

“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”

He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.

I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.

“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.

“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.

“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”

I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.

“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”

My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.

“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”

I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.

His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.

“It’s not, I promise you-“

He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.

“I am so, so sorry-”

I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.

“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.

I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.

His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”

He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.

“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”

And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.

“Let’s go get her.”

————————

15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York

“Hotch?”

“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.

“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.

“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.

The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.

“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”

He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.

“And that’s an order.”

I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.

After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.

The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.

“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”

The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.

“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”

The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.

“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”

I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

snap!

Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.

“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.

I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.

“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”

The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.

My breathing momentarily halted soon after.

Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.

Red. So much of it.

“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”

“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.

She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”

Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.

—————————

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”

Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”

She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.

We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.

“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”

Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.

“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.

“You want to be famous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Too bad.”

My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.

“You? You’ll be a nobody.”

“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.

“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”

Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.

“You know, Agent-“

“It’s Doctor.”

This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.

“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”

A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.

“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”

As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.

I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.

Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.

“Spence, please.”

My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.

She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.

“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”

“No!”

bang!

whack!

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

Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet

I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.

I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.

“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,

“What happened to him?”

“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“

“I don’t care you should have let him!”

I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.

“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”

He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.

“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”

I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.

“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”

The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.

“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘

I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.

“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.

“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.

“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”

I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.

“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”

He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.

“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.

He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”

He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.

“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“

I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.

“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”

I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.

“No problem y/n. Anytime.”

I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”

I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.

“Without a doubt.”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile-

i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳)

😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj

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the-trans-otter33 · 3 years

Text

Poetry Night

Posted on Ao3:

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Analogical - Relationship, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders Additional Tags: gay boys, Kissing, Poetry, College, Logan is in college, hes an english major, Virgil is an EMT, no they didnt meet in college, they both love poetry, yes they have facial hair, sue me, im unconditional in the boys styles, poem, apartment roommates, please ignore typos I beg, Virgil put out a roommate application form btw Summary:

Virgil and Logan go to Poetry night together every weekend at Virgil's favorite nightclub. Neither of them have every shared any of their work. But Virgil figured that now was the time to change that.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan shuffled uncomfortably. Virgil had a hold of his index finger, as to not hold the entirety of his crush’s hand. Virgil led them through a crowd of people at his favorite nightclub.

Ever since meeting Logan, he’s got to admit the amount of times he’s showed up for poetry night has increased tremendously. Poetry night was really the only time anyone ever saw him there but even then he didn’t go every night. Then when Logan arrived as his new roommate in his apartment, he became a regular there. Both of them went every single time Poetry night was an event.

Logan absolutely loved poetry, it was his favorite thing. Besides Virgil anyway. Virgil and Logan had been crushing over each since day one, but neither of them wanted to admit it. Logan, as an English major (and creative writing minor in a nearby college) was more than ecstatic when he learned that his roomie had a secret passion for poetry too. It did seem a little odd to Logan at first, Virgil being an EMT in training and all.

Virgil was an anxious ball of messiness most of the time, but there’s nothing more exhilarating to him than having a chance to save someone's life. That's why he became an EMT. He wasn’t a full paramedic yet, but he did just get hired. When Logan learned of this, it truly did just make him swoon even more. A part of him wanted to have a heart attack just so the hot emo EMT he lived with could resuscitate him.

Nevertheless, they both loved poetry and secretly each other. They had lived together for 3 years now and Virgil wanted to do something before Logan got his degree. Virgil, at this point, could barely handle himself whenever he looked at Logan. His roommate had changed so much since when they first met.

A lot of that is Virgil’s fault, making Logan feel more comfortable with his sexuality and his off putting personality that he grew up to hate.

Virgil had watched Logan change from a silent, short haired, clean shaven, polo wearing nerd into a Long haired (he usually wears a man-bun that kills Virgil) , bearded hipster that bore fancy dress shoes, perfect black slacks with his suspenders flowing to the floor whenever he unhooked them from his shoulders.

He always wore different colored button ups (Virgil's favorite has a rainbow pattern) and depending on his mood, a suit vest or one of Virgil’s jackets. At some point, all of their laundry got mixed up and the two gays were so tired that they agreed to just share their wardrobes and wear whatever they wanted. This also killed Virgil, deep down to his core.

Logan has done a lot of the same for Virgil. He encouraged him to dye his hair (pure white) and cut it into a messy (yet somehow smooth???) Mohawk. It was at that point that Virgil decided to get an eyebrow and lip piercing. He was lucky they lived in such a liberal area too, otherwise he’d never get hired as an EMT anywhere else.

Virgil also bore his brown sideburns, letting them grow out after Logan threw the shaving products out of their 7th floor window in a fit of rage (It’s a long story).

Virgil pretty much wore the same exact clothes as before, just with Logan’s wardrobe added in for whenever he felt like it.

Currently though, Logan was being placed right in front of the 4-feet-off-the-ground stage. It was practically nothing to him and Virgil, both of the men being 6’3 in height.

“Virgil, when exactly are you going to tell me what is going on right now?” Logan gained that little smile of his, crossing his arms as Virgil took a step back.

“Well, I can’t exactly tell you, Lo. But I need you to just stay right there and don’t move for the next,” he checked his watch, “minute and twenty-five seconds?” Virgil spoke with a shrug and shield of nervous energy.

Logan nodded, “Sure.”

Virgil kind of hopped between his feet. “I’ll be right back, I guess. You’ll see me.” He didn’t give Logan much time to argue, given as he bolted from the area and Logan actually lost that tall EMT in the crowd. Damn Virgil’s anxiety fueled methods at making himself blend in like a damn chameleon.

Logan looked around. He hoped that Virgil would get back sooner than just a minute. He wouldn’t want Virge to miss the poetry displays and he would hate to miss staring at Virgil getting lost in the words spoken from the stage they yearned to be at every weekend.

That is, until the lights dimmed and the crowd shushed itself. A silhouette of some tall man could be seen sliding across the stage, to the center. Logan’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened in shock as the lights slowly brightened once more. And there he was.

Virgil stood there, where Logan dreamed of seeing his crush so frequently. Virgil had the microphone in hand, refusing to look anywhere but Logan. He had never shared his poetry to anyone before, besides his roommate but that was a given.

Virgil cleared his throat before he began to speak, clearly having memorized his piece.

“There’s something there that I hold, hidden within the halls,

It surrounds my very being, my every breath, it even bounces like a rubber ball.

Here where I stand, it is so clear, that this thing I hold is very dear to me,

It seems to be a man, wearing glasses and bearing a bun I can’t ever not see.

He’s tall and free, a lot like me.

Bonded by homosexuality,

those beautiful hazel eyes see me for me and have always cared.

It was in recent times that I dared to plot my scheme, after three years.

In terms of dating, both him and I are wet behind the ears,

But I’d love to give it a try if he’d be mine.

Who is this man, I see everyday?

A man I share my home, my life, my everything with?

He’s here with us today, among the crowd of eyes.

There he stands, right in the middle.

Logan McNamara

I’ll speak the truth and ignore the lies.

Would you like to become mine?”

Virgil connected his and Logan’s eyes, letting a smile wash over his face. Logan felt heat rise upon his cheeks, tears almost coming to his eyes as he felt his body move involuntarily. Everyone in the crowd was watching him and Virgil, waiting to see if Logan would say yes.

Logan moved to the stage and lifted himself onto it. He marched over to Virgil, who watched him with anxious eyes and that beautiful smile. Logan took the microphone from his crush’s hand and tossed it aside.

“Virgil?”

“Logan?”

“Yes.” Logan stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s torso. Virgil quickly wrapped his around Logan's torso and neck before the English major leant forward, connecting their two lips with a sweet chaste kiss.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #queer #gay #kissing #romance #poetry #poems #I wrote the poem btw #just so no one else thinks I took it from somewhere #idk #I didnt proofread btw #so ignore typos

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vinatintasupernovita · 3 years

Note

2 for the warm weather/summer prompts 👀

2. “I’ll explain later, but for now, can I throw this frozen margarita in your face and call you a jerk?” with some Michael/Beelzebub

———

There was exactly two times every century or so that Heaven and Hell’s forces looked forward to. One was the long-awaited ‘Casual Friday’- that was more Heaven’s deal, as Hell had long since abandoned their dress codes- and the other was the weekend-long co-office summer beach party.

The beach party was, on the record, a strategic meeting. Heaven and Hell would get together on a secluded beach on Earth and.. ‘scope out’ the opposing side- try and find weak points. This was a crack of shit clearly as most of everyone used this weekend to let their hair down for a couple days and get out any pent up energy they had from the thousands of years of sitting in shitty cubicles that were only different in color scheme. And after a long time considering, they both decided giving up on that after the failed apocalypse would just be another kick to the nuts.

Beelzebub sat at the cabana bar- the warring forces had co-rented a hotel and their private beach this time around and everyone agreed it was a much better experience now that endless drinks were included.

They sipped on a frozen lime martini as they played with the string of their cover-up. A few of the other lords and dukes were mingling on the beach with a couple angels- none that Beelzebub really knew the names of. They preferred to sit and drink in silence since it was going to be some of the only quiet they were going to get for awhile.

“Beelzebub!” And there the silence was broken. They turned on the swivel stool and looked to see Gabriel approaching in his usual purple hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. They rolled their eyes but motioned him over all the same.

“Featherbrain, you’re looking beachy.” They said as he took the seat next to them. He shook his head when the bartender questioned if he’d like a drink, and Beelzebub continued drinking. “Still won’t taste humanity’s finest creation?”

“You know how I feel about gross matter.”

“Yes, won’t eat food or drink alcohol unless it’s with humanity’s least favorite dietician at some overpriced gastronomy joint.”

Beelzebub was one of three people that knew about Gabriel’s currently covert relationship with Famine. The other two people were Frannie- Gabriel and Famine’s girlfriend- and Aziraphale, who Gabriel had originally turned to for romantic advice as he was the only other angel Gabriel had knowledge of dating non-angels. Demons and Monsters of the human subconscious were only a couple steps away from one another on the supernatural hierarchy anyway.

Beelzebub got to know about that little circle as they were, for lack of better terms, Gabriel’s closest friend. They had a mutual distaste and disrespect-turned-respect for another for the last couple thousand years that evolved into a genuine friendship. Gabriel would spill about his new escapades in love and Beelzebub would offer advice as if they had ever had a romantic encounter in their entire existence.

That would change however as Gabriel caught them staring at Michael off in the distance. Michael was, admittedly, the hottest angel in Beelzebub’s opinion. They’d never say it out loud, but it was apparent from the way they were missing their straw as they tried to continue drinking. Gabriel only chuckled.

“Distracted, Beelzebub?” He asked, only to snap their attention back to him and get a glare in return.

“Im never distracted. Especially not by angels.” They argued.

“I never said anything about it being an angel specifically. Could’ve been Asmodeus.” He said.

“Ugh, don’t make me gag.” They said as they pulled the drink closer. “What, are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t need to tell Michael anything- he’s probably watching us right now.” Gabriel said as he leaned on the bar. “He likes to think he’s discreet but really most of Heaven knows how he likes to play spy.”

“He can’t hear us from that far-“

“No, but he can watch.” He said. “He’s good at that.

Sure enough, Michael was watching- watching with a kind of jealous glint in his eyes. He looked up from the sun-tan mirror in his hands for a moment as he tried to read Gabriel and Beelzebub’s motions. They were friends, that was clear, but Gabriel had been acting much brighter in the last few weeks and Michael had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why- he had to have some new lover.

But Gabriel wasn’t dating an angel. If it had been an angel everyone in Heaven would’ve known about it by now. But nothing- no info from anyone. And from the looks of it, it was a demon. At least, that was the working theory Michael had.

Now as previously stated, that was not the case at all as that would’ve been cheating on Gabriel’s actual partners and gross to Beelzebub, who would sooner eat glass, but Michael didn’t know that. And, for the record, he had been meaning to ask Beelzebub to a drink for the last three beach weekends, he just never got around to it. Uriel said it was because he was too chicken, but Michael would prefer to keep his pride in tact in case of a rejection.) But now, timing was critical. For both him and Beelzebub.

They had to figure out a way to get Michael to come over and assess exactly why he was staring- maybe put the moves on him, as the kids say. But they needed a reason, any rea-

They looked at their half-consumed margarita and got a brilliant idea.

“Gabriel, I’ll explain later, but for now, can I throw this frozen margarita in your face and call you a jerk?” They asked, only for Gabriel to blink at them.

“Um, sure?”

Splash!

“You holy fucking jerk!” Without a second given for Gabriel to question their thought process, Gabriel was drenched in lime margarita and all eyes seemed to be on them. Most of everyone just turned and looked and wondered or snickered, expecting some kind of further blow up in the coming minutes.

Thankfully, Michael took the bait. As he walked up, Beelzebub gave Gabriel a look that just about screamed ‘play along.’

“Is there a problem, Lord Beelzebub?” Michael asked as he looked between his now-drippy brother and the Prince of Hell. Beelzebub turned to Michael and cleared their throat.

“Just Gabriel being his usual dumbass self. I’d say he should think before he speaks but clearly he can’t ever think.”

“I resent that-“ Gabriel started, only for Michael to raise his hand slowly to quiet him.

“Now, now, we don’t need any of that. Not now, at least. We have a truce.�� He said. “Gabriel, why don’t you clean up while I try to smooth things over here?” That’s when Gabriel saw Beelzebub nod, and finally it clicked.

“Oh, fine.” He said, getting up from the cabana. “We’re not done here, Beelzebub!” He was such a bad actor, but thankfully he was walking away.

“So sorry about him.” Michael said as he took Gabriel’s spot. “Let me get you another drink, on me.” He waved over the bartender. “What was it?”

“Lime margarita with a salted rim.” Beelzebub said.

“One of those and a cherry daiquiri for me.” Michael ordered, and the bartender nodded before heading to make the drinks. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about what happened?”

“You were watching us, i’m sure you could guess.” Their words had an air of mischief in them that Michael caught right away. He nodded.

“I watch everyone. But I have to say I’m surprised, I thought you and Gabriel were close.”

“He’s not the worst angel i’ve ever met.”

“But you’re not denying that you’re close?”

“He’s my friend, nothing more. Sometimes he’s much less.”

“And I’m assuming right now he’s the ladder?” Michael said as he took a sip of his drink. “You still haven’t explained what happened.”

“He was being nosey, that’s all. But damn does it weigh on you after the hundredth question.” Beelzebub lied, watching for another look of interest in Michael’s eye. “Asking too many personal questions.”

“Like?”

“You too?” They said sarcastically. “Well, if you must know, he was asking if I fancied anyone. Wanted to plan a double date with me and my person of choice and his new partners. So annoying.”

There was the info Michael was looking for- he’d have to ask Gabriel about it later but partners plural stuck to his head. That, and the fact it wasn’t Beelzebub. That was step one. Now they were both onto step two.

“And who would be your person of choice- if you have one?” Michael asked. “Any demonic entity catch your eye?”

“Id sooner discorporate myself than date anyone in the same office.” Beelzebub said. “Too close for comfort, don’t know how some of them make it work.”

“I see. I suppose I could say the same. Angels are close-knit but sometimes it could be a bit much.”

“I didn’t know you were the type to date outside the heavenly realms.”

“Well, things change with time, don’t they? I mean we should’ve destroyed one another by now but we’re drinking together instead.”Beelzebub nodded, leaning on their elbow.

“Suppose you’re right.” They said. “If you’re free, we could also get dinner together. Up to you.”

That’s when it hit Michael exactly what they were implying. He chuckled. The sly bastard.

“I think that sounds delightful.”

#wow this was longer than i thot it would be #good omens #fresa’s fics #beelzebub x michael #michael good omens #beelzebub good omens #yes i wrote in some gabriel/famine/frannie cus im obsessed w them

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: The Royal We ch.1 (baon)

Summary: Family helps family. Sometimes right into the path of an oncoming car.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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When they first came to this universe, it hadn’t taken long for Edge to realize that things were very different here than back home in Underfell, (no, not home, not for a long time now). The changes took some time to absorb and some might never fully integrate, as his freezer filled with stocked up meals would attest. But there were a few universal constants and while all of them grew up with their brother as their only relative, they all knew that family helped family. Even when that family was a pack of alternates who appeared later in life.

Which was how Edge found himself on his day off sitting on the floor of what was currently Papyrus and Blue’s house, making party favors for Undyne’s baby shower.

The living room was strewn with decorations waiting to be placed, streamers and banners in an eclectic rainbow of colors, uninflated balloons spilling out of a bag like the leftover skins of a particularly garish fruit. The party itself wasn’t until tomorrow, but that left little time to waste, considering the plans Papyrus had drawn up.

Plan was perhaps an overstatement, but Edge could never fault Papyrus for his enthusiasm. His color scheme, on the other hand—well. He’d never approved of the way some Humans were so obsessed with gender that they actually assigned colors at birth but there was a great distance between that and a design that might cause any guests with fleshier eyes to scramble for sunglasses.

Papyrus was bustling around setting things up while the rest of them were sitting on the floor in a circle around a coffee table that was cluttered with craft supplies. He’d paired each of them off to work on separate projects and for all that the occasion was a joyous one, the mood was decidedly not.

“how many of these things do we need, anyway?” Stretch grumbled. His and Jeff’s assigned duty was to pour a mixture of toffee-coated popcorn into small plastic bags, tie it closed with a ribbon, and then affix a sticker on the front that declared in cheery letters ‘Ready to Pop’!

Edge was morbidly curious as to how Undyne felt about that particular sentiment this close to the end of her pregnancy.

A glance at the finished bags confirmed that Stretch’s ribbons were less a bow and more a tangle of colorful knots, Jeff’s only a slight improvement. The bags were sealed at least, and Papyrus was more than content with the effort, which was all that really mattered.

Besides, Edge was busy with his own task; planting tiny succulents into miniature pots, each with a painstakingly attached tag reading, ‘Watch Me Grow!’. Privately, he thought the small cacti were a far better representation of Undyne than any snack, but then, he wasn’t the one actually throwing the shower.

“How many do we need,” Papyrus repeated thoughtfully. Edge pointedly did not ask about the garland in his hand which seemed to be made of dangling fish ornaments and…was that tomatoes? Edge decided it would be best not to know, lest he end up lying awake tonight with the answer still haunting him. “Well, there is Undyne’s co-workers in Security and Alphys’s at the lab, plus their neighbors and friends, and of course us!”

“i don’t need no damn cactus,” Red muttered sullenly. How Papyrus even got Red here was another burning question, though the answer was likely Sans sitting placidly right next to him. His collar was visible over the neckline of his t-shirt, the buckle glinting in the light. Occasionally he reached up absently to touch it as if to verify it hadn’t wandered off when he wasn’t looking. Their entire duty seemed to be putting cans of sparkling water into drink koozies emblazoned with such witticisms as ‘nacho average baby’ over a cartoon of a tortilla chip. It was anyone’s guess as to if that task was actually assigned to them or simple the one they’d decided on doing, but between them, there were four cans done after a half an hour of work.

Sans managed to slide another can into a koozie, bringing their grand total to five. “paps, that didn’t really answer the question.”

“That would be because I am not finished counting!” Papyrus scolded. “There’s also Undyne’s ‘Cooking with Krav Maga’ class and naturally all the Dreemurr family will be coming.”

“great, ass-gore will be here,” Stretch muttered, fumbling to tie another ribbon with varying success. “i’ll be sure to bring my headphones.”

Edge sighed inwardly. Stretch was in a prickly mood and had been all day, and it didn’t take a scientist-level IQ to know it had something to do with the baby shower. They’d known about this for days; when Papyrus asked if they would help, Edge hadn’t hesitated to agree. Now he was wondering if he shouldn’t have asked Stretch in advance. He hadn’t refused to come, but he’d been twitchy and snappish since getting up that morning, only getting worse when they came over. If the party were for anyone but Undyne, Edge would have suggested they go home.

Adding to the irritation was Red in a poor mood of his own and he hadn’t a single qualm about casting sparks around a gasoline spill. “good, no one wants to hear you flappin’ your yap, anyway. save your 280 characters for your twitter freaks.”

“aww, jealous?” Stretch cooed, “‘cause, you talk so much crap, i dunno whether to you need toilet paper or a breath mint.”

Edge exchanged a weary look with Blue, who returned it with equal exasperation. Those two had been sniping at each other all morning and it was Blue’s turn to attempt a least a little fire prevention.

“Really, Papy, that’s enough,” Blue said reprovingly. That might stop them briefly, but they all knew from past experience it wouldn’t last. Red and Stretch were alike in a number of dissatisfying ways, past the darkened circles of exhaustion that were currently visible beneath both their sockets. For one, most of them weren’t above returning a good insult with a better one, but Red and Stretch could be particularly vicious about it. Usually it was better to let them simply work it out between themselves; trying to intercede past a little mild scolding usually ended up getting you mixed up in the spat.

This time Edge was tempted, if only because Jeff looked supremely uncomfortable. He fumbled with his latest little bag of popcorn and ended up with a good portion bouncing into his lap rather than the treat bag.

For the time being, Sans seemed content to allow them to try to rein in their brothers, and that would likely last until their petty squabbling might upset Papyrus. Who thus far either hadn’t noticed or was content to allow the others to handle it. Edge hoped it was the latter. The crack in Papyrus’s skull was still starkly visible, although his balance seemed much improved, if the way he all but leapt from the ladder was any indication, digging furiously through an overflowing box of even more decorations.

“sure, bro,” Stretch said to his brother’s scold, and then promptly added a mumble of, “don’t see why he has to be here, anyway.”

“’cause it ain’t your party, it’s hers, and she’d want ‘im,” Red grumbled. Then, in a smirking sotto voce, “’sides, i figure he’s the baby daddy so be kinda rude not to at least give ‘im a party favor.”

“There is no baby daddy, since neither Undyne nor Alphys want to be called daddy, and it’s much ruder to speculate,” Papyrus called primly, confirming that he was indeed listening to the ongoing bickering. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the growing balloon sculpture critically. Edge joined him in looking, biting the tip of his tongue to hold back any questions, especially on whether the design was supposed to be Undyne or an eggplant. Never ask when you didn’t want to know the answer and Papyrus wove in another long, purple balloon as he went on, “and also Asgore can’t be the donor because I am.”

A hush of silence fell, along with a number of wide sockets and eyes turning to Papyrus’s direction. No one’s were wider than Sans’s at what was obviously unexpected news to him as he blurted, "seriously, bro? you're the one who handed over the baby batter for undyne?”

Papyrus frowned at them all reprovingly. “That is rude AND crude, I'll thank you not to refer to it that way.”

"sorry, bro, but fuck,” Sans sputtered, “you didn’t say anything!”

"Is there a reason I would need to?” Papyrus asked, brow bones raised, “Undyne is my best friend and wanted a child, so of course I would help provide the necessary material in her time of need!"

“necessary material,” Stretch muttered, his face scrunching up, and in that Edge could only agree, “right.” He nudged Jeff with an elbow, who yelped aloud and jumped, sending up another miniature shower of popcorn, “uh, andy, i know we're best buds and all, but if you ever need--"

“Nope, I’m good,” Jeff said, a touch too loudly.

“happy to hear it.” Stretch gave him a grin that slowly faded. “see? so if asgore didn’t donate his, uh, time and effort, he can stay home."

“Honestly, Papy you can’t—" Blue began reprovingly, only to be drowned out by Red’s loud snort.

“what the fuck is your problem with asgore, anyway,” Red grumbled. He picked at his gold tooth, a tell that sent tension winding up Edge’s spine even as his brother added with lazy viciousness, “get over it already, you act like he’s your ex who fucked you over.”

The day seemed to be one for unexpected silences. Only this time the stares were directed at Stretch, who said nothing. He only sat white-faced, cellophane crinkling loudly as his hands fisted around the bag in his lap, his skull draining of color as he managed to look at anything but those stares.

Red let out a harsh chortle of laughter, “seriously? all this time you’ve been holier than thou about his lv and it’s actually ‘cause you used to give him the bone over in your ‘verse? fuck, now there is a mental picture,” Red moaned out gleefully, “oooh, fuzzy ass, stick it to me good! ram me with your furry wand of wonder and i’ll get your goat!”

A chorus of protests rose up, with Edge’s snarl of, “That’s enough!” rising to the top.

But Stretch was already standing, a litter of colorful ribbons shedding from his lap as he walked swiftly to the door.

“Rus—" Edge stood to chase after him, cursing his damned leg as it threatened to buckle under him. It was an exercise in futility from the start, as he’d known it would be. Stretch shortcutted the moment he was out the door, heading off Angel knew where to lose himself in the stew of his own thoughts. The temptation to look up where he’d reappeared on the phone app was strong, but Edge resisted it. Stretch had the right to be alone if that was what he wanted, particularly after that dig.

He sighed and went back into the house. Only to pause as he saw the various looks had transferred to him, all of them guarded, particularly Blue; his starry eye lights seemed to be anticipating anger at Stretch. As if this made any damned difference between them. Even Jeff looked near tears, like he expected Edge to already have Antwan on the phone demanding him to draw up divorce papers. It was damn well insulting, and he glared back at them all until those gazes dropped, Blue’s reluctantly last.

All except for his own brother. Red was grinning, savagely pleased, and if they wanted anger, the simmering urge to shout at his brother was rising to a roiling boil in him, his LV waking in his soul to twinge eagerly at the heat of it. Only that was likely exactly what his brother wanted, to be punished for his casual cruelties. Whatever was troubling Red, Edge wasn’t about to reward his masochism.

His own anger fell swiftly into disappointment; lately Red had been bordering on kind with Stretch, if it could be called that, treating him as a brother, or better, if Edge were honest with himself. A brother that needed his protection as Edge decidedly did not. It’d been some time since he’d deliberately needled Stretch and Edge couldn’t even understand why he’d chosen to do so today. Whatever his petty reasons, they weren’t sufficient enough to excuse that.

Edge kept his voice low and even as he said, “That was cruel.”

That satisfied smirk faltered and Red shifted to lean forward. “yeah? well, it's about time he starts getting’ over it. it ain’t the same guy and he’s married to you.”

“Affection for someone else is not any kind of betrayal and considering that all of you calculated our worlds have ceased to exist, there isn’t much opportunity for closure, is there,” Edge said, acid creeping in. "The state of my marriage is no concern of yours."

Red’s sockets fell half-closed as he said, dangerously soft, "you think so, boss?"

Then he flinched suddenly, yelping as Sans slapped him upside the head. "you’re so eager for stretch to get over shit, how about you practice what you preach.” He shoved a can of sparkling water into Red’s lap. “shut up and put on a fucking koozie.”

Red scowled hard and Edge did not miss his crimson gaze flicking to the collar around Sans's throat. Grudgingly, he did what he was told.

“Do not interfere with my marriage,” Edge said coolly. Not that such a statement would stop his brother, but at least it was said between them. Then to Papyrus. “I am sorry, but."

Papyrus only flapped his hands at him, shooing him away, “No, no, go, talk to Stretchy Me! I’m sure Cherry here would like to think about how much he hurt Stretch’s feelings and yours, his own brother, who has recently suffered an injury. And there are my own injuries to consider as well, sticks, stones, and words do hurt!"

Edge let him ramble and started for the door, then hesitated. The others were accustomed to a certain amount of internal friction, some of it formerly his and Stretch’s, from the moment they woke up in this universe. Their Human companion was not so inured to it and Edge crouched to set a ginger hand on Jeff’s shoulder, “Jeff, I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” Jeff waved it off, offering up a lopsided grin. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen Thanksgiving at my grandparent’s place. Don’t think my grandma ever got the gravy stains off the ceiling.”

“can’t just drop a hint like that and not give the story, andy,” Sans said, lightly. The others murmured agreement, eager to latch onto another topic.

Edge could hear as he went out the door, “Well, uh, see, my grandpa was originally from Norway, and—”

There were any number of places Stretch might go to nurse his internal wounds, but Edge had a fairly good guess as to the likeliest one. He drove home, parked his car in the driveway, but instead of heading up to the front porch, he went around the side of the house towards their fenced backyard. Before he was even close, he could hear Stretch talking and he went quietly through the gate to see him sitting outside the coop with Noodle settled into his lap, the laces of his untied sneakers trailing into the grass for Dumpling to peck at.

His skull was resting against one of the support posts, still too pale, his sockets closed and his vape drooping loosely from his long fingers. Vaping instead of smoking cropped up sometimes when Stretch was truly irritated, as if he subconsciously wanted control over something and settled for his nicotine addiction. Or perhaps it was to protect his feathered companions from secondhand smoke.

Noodle didn’t seem bothered either way, chirring softly as Stretch stroked his free hand down her back.

“—not like i don’t know i’m being a dick. that guy just pisses me off sometimes. asgore, not red. actually, they both piss me off, now that you mention it.”

Noodle made an inquisitive sound and Stretch sighed out a cloud of vapor. “yeah, yeah, i was in a mood before we even went over. i dunno, all that baby shit gets on my nerves for some reason.” He scratched lightly under Noodle’s chin and she cooed contentedly. “you’re right, it’s no excuse for being shitty. especially to papyrus, he’s all excited about throwing this party. even if the balloon thing was creepy, you should’ve seen it, like cthulhu’s second cousin after failed plastic surgery.”

“You weren’t being a dick.” Edge said, quietly. Stretch tensed and his sockets slid open, but he didn’t look up, his pale eye lights straying down on his poultry pal. Edge walked over and sat next to them, keeping a careful distance away, easily breached if Stretch wished, or a comforting barrier if he didn’t. “Perhaps a little rude.” Edge held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “A little. My brother, on the other hand, was embracing his dickish nature.”

Stretch made a faint, amused sound, “red embracing his dick was not a chat i was expecting today.”

Then he leaned to the side, crossing the distance between them to rest his skull on Edge’s shoulder. He took the unsubtle hint and slid an arm around his husband’s slim shoulders, holding him in close, closing his sockets against the faint tremble in Stretch’s voice as softly spoke.

“he wasn’t my boyfriend. fuck, i never saw him get out of the ruins. i…might’ve given it a shot if he had,” his voice dropped to a bare whisper and Edge hummed encouragingly, already anticipating what was coming, “but i was fucking everyone back then. i was maybe a little infatuated, okay? that’s it.”

“All right,” Edge said, calmly, even as he tightened his arm around Stretch, holding him closer still. He was not jealous of Stretch’s yesterdays; his only commitments were his tomorrows, and despite what his brother might think, Edge was certainly not about to allow anything so trivial as a former crush on a dead man come between them.

Stretch heaved a watery little sigh. “but that isn’t it, not really. he was my friend and i promised him i’d take care of the kid. instead i—"

“Did what you had to do,” Edge interrupted firmly. He understood impossible situations better than most, his own LV-tainted soul aching to think of Stretch enduring what he had for so long, an impossible choice to make between his world and the intent of a murderous child.

Yet, even now, Stretch couldn’t be convinced that was true. He only sighed out a quiet, “sure.” Then, louder, “anyway. he was my friend. he would have hated to see what he was in this world. it’s just…it’s hard sometimes.”

“I know.” Hard to see alternates of people they’d known, a lifetime of memories to be set aside while learning a new person with an old face. Undyne was his own personal struggle and Edge could call her friend, but it wasn’t the same, it couldn’t be.

Next to him, Stretch snuggled in closer even as Noodle let out a querulous protest over the lack of petting. “i’ve been thinking. my hp is on the rise, right?”

“It’s 5 and a quarter, love,” Edge said dryly, reaching over to offer the chicken a gentle pat, Noodle’s dismay quickly turning to a rapturous croon, “and as happy as I am for it, I’d prefer if you didn’t decide to take up hang gliding or street fighting.”

"you're hilarious, babe." Another long, slow breath, before Stretch blurted, "i know i kinda railroaded you when we talked about this before. if you really want kids--" he faltered, his voice breaking as Edge listened in dismayed confusion, "i mean, if that's…we could…"

Suddenly Edge knew precisely what Rus was going to offer and he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to think in even the tiniest way that he’d lost some measure of Edge’s love by preferring not to have children and and he didn’t know how to stop him from strangling out the words.

So Edge cupped his face in a hand and turned Stretch’s head towards him to kiss that stammering mouth lingeringly, until he stopped trying and simply melted into the gentle touch. By the time he drew away, Stretch was the one making thin, dismayed sounds, trying to chase after that kiss for more, his eye lights hazy soft. Instead, Edge pressed a light, teasing kiss to the slight nodule of his nasal cavity.

"No, I don’t think so,” Edge told him, slow and carefully. Watching that much-loved face to make sure Stretch was hearing him. “I’ve considered it and I’ve decided I’m entirely too busy to add parenthood to my schedule. I’m going back to the Y this week, I think I’m better off trying to secure a place in this world for the children already in it.”

Poorly hidden relief flickered over Stretch’s face and Edge leaned in to kiss him again, silently hoping that he was truly believed this time. There was no doubt in his mind that Stretch would force himself to endure the stresses of having a child if he thought Edge wished it, but making Stretch bear the weight of unwanted parenthood was a nightmare not to be considered. He’d love the child, surely, but at what cost? Far higher than Edge would ever consider paying.

A sudden cackle came from inside the coop and Stretch jerked away, sitting bolt upright.

“the egg!” Stretch gasped, scrambling to his feet, “i never did get a chance to research her adopted egg. you think maybe it actually—” hatched, he did not say, almost superstitiously hopeful.

“It’s possible,” Edge hedged, doubtfully. They both started into the coop, only for a voice calling over the fence to stop them.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone home?” The words were couched with near panic and the voice was a familiar one. Stretch beat him to the fence, opening the gate as he limped as quickly as he could over.

“Janice?” Edge said, surprised and concerned. The fur on her face was matted and wet with tears and she wrung her hands, shaking as she tried to speak. It brought back unpleasant memories of the attack at the Embassy, when one of the protesters threw a brick at her. Even then her pain and fear were tempered under practicality as she asked Antwan to bring her children to the hospital, her thoughts on keeping her boys from fearing Humans more than they already might. To see her bereft of her usual firm control was concerning.

“Calm down,” Edge soothed, pulling her into his arms without a thought, even as he cast a wary glance around the neighborhood. Nothing seemed out of order, not yet, “What’s happened?”

She leaned against him heavily and he nearly staggered back a step. Tall as he was, they were of nearly an equal weight. “It’s Jude, he didn’t come home for lunch and I can’t find him anywhere!” She hitched out a sob. “None of the other children have seen him, my family has been looking but we can’t find him, I can’t—”

Her voice dissolved and Edge gave her a last pat before firmly pushing her into his husband’s startled arms.

“Stretch, stay with her,” Edge commanded, reaching for his phone, “I’m going to make some calls.”

“yeah, sure,” Stretch agreed hastily. He rubbed a soothing hand down her back as Janice struggled against her tears. “hey, we’ll find him. little guy couldn’t have gotten too far.”

Edge was already pulling up his contact list and couldn’t help the darkly sour thought that if this didn’t pull his brother out of his bad mood, nothing would.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #kustard #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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junosartsthetic · 4 years

Note

I Know you like Polnareff alot so I'll request one .. can I get a Polnareff oneshot where the reader is part of the crew and knows french so she flirts with Pol. And no one else has a clue what's going on?

I used google translate for the French so R.I.P. to the accuracy. I’ll put what I was trying to say in brackets, however, and if anyone who actually speaks French wants to correct me they are more than welcome. Also this uhh... this is one of the longest things I’ve written in a while. Did someone say comfort character?

As soon as the frenchman spotted you getting off the bus, he flashed you a wide smile. It’d been a while since he’d last seen you, but he’d recognize your features anywhere.

The other crusaders looked on, waiting to see who the special person Pol called in to help was. All he said was that you were an old friend.

Your boots moved against the concrete elegantly as you tucked a stray hair out of your face. The light blouse and sleek pants you wore complimented your figure nicely.

You waved, blowing Pol a kiss when you spotted him. “Bonjour,” you said, the French rolling off your tongue as though it was your first language.

Polnareff opened his arms for a hug but you just clicked your tongue. “Oh, no. I’m still mad at you, Jean. Now, why did you make me come all the way out here? Where even is here? What country is this?” you shook your head. “God, it’s been such a long trip.”

You noticed Pol’s companions and shook hands with each, introducing yourself as you did so.

“So, you’re the old friend Polnareff has been mentioning,” the man who introduced himself as Avdol prompted.

You nodded. “Something like that. But I still don’t know why I’m here.” Joseph piped up. “We’re trying to defeat an enemy that goes way back. Polnareff said you could assist us.”

You glared at the silver-haired man who was currently distracting himself with his nails. “Oh, he just assumed I would, huh?” you huffed. “Well, I’m already here so I might as well.”

That was the start of your inclusion as part of the crusaders. As time went on, you got to know the others more, befriending them as best as you could. You still gave Jean the cold shoulder, however. The others weren’t sure why, but Jean knew what he did wrong. That’s for damn sure.

The others found out, eventually, though; over a dinner, in fact.

You sat next to Avdol, chatting about nothing in particular. Pol directly across from you, simply pouting.

Joseph looked between the two of you. “So, uhh, what’s your past together, really? I know you said not to bring it up but if we’re to defeat Dio together we should get along. All of us. And that means fixing whatever shit Polnareff did to make you mad at him.”

“Moi? Why do you assume it was ME that did something?” Polnareff spoke up, crossing his arms.

“Because it was you,” was your reply as you took a sip of your beverage.

His face flushed. “That was a long time ago.”

You glared at him. “But you never apologized.”

“Es-tu sérieux? Qu'ai-je fait de mal? [Are you serious? What did I do wrong?]”

“Tu veux vraiment y aller? Tu n'as même jamais dit au revoir! J'avais dix-huit ans à l'époque! Vous êtes parti sans un mot et je ne savais pas où vous étiez et vous m'appelez soudainement de nulle part et vous attendez à ce que je voyage des centaines de kilomètres pour vous aider? [Do you really wanna go there? You never even said goodbye! I was eighteen at the time! You left without a word and I didn't know where you were and then you suddenly call me up out of nowhere and expect me to travel hundreds of kilometers to help you?]”

“J'avais dix-huit ans aussi, au cas où tu aurais oublié! J'étais un enfant stupide! Tu étais mon ... tu sais ce que tu étais pour moi! Je ne voulais pas tout gâcher! [I was eighteen too, in case you forgot! I was a stupid kid! You were my... you know what you were to me! I didn't want to mess it up!]”

You scoffed. “Gâcher? Et vous pensiez que me quitter après que nous ayons dormi ensemble pour la première fois n'était PAS une erreur? [Mess it up? And you thought leaving me after we slept together for the first time was NOT messing it up?]”

The others were simply looking back and forth in confusion. Obviously, you two had a rough past. Joseph cleared his throat awkwardly. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up…

Pol glanced down at his plate. “Je ... je suppose que c'était mal de moi. Je suis désolé. Je ... t'aime toujours, tu sais? Je n'ai jamais arrêté. [I ... I guess it was wrong of me. I am sorry. I... still love you, you know? I never stopped.]”

You began to cry.

Avdol put a comforting hand on your shoulder, though he didn’t know what to say.

“God damnit,” you muttered. “I still love you too, moron.”

There was silence. Though they understood only that, the other crusaders knew what went down between the two of you.

After that, everyone went to their rooms. Nothing else was spoken other than unmeaningful ‘good night’s and ‘see you tomorrow’s.

In the morning, you woke up with a newfound purpose in life. You knew how he felt, and he knew how you felt, but you were determined to grind his gears in revenge, anyway. He broke your heart so he deserved it. How to do it, however? You had a plan.

“Good morning, everyone,” you said as you walked into the breakfast area, your black silk robe still tied neatly against you. “I hope you all slept well. I have a feeling today is going to be a great day!”

“Uhh, yeah,” Kakyoin muttered, raising a brow. “You okay? You were… crying last night.”

You ruffled his hair. “Oh, don’t even worry about it, I’m great! More than great, actually.”

With that, you mozied off to grab a plate and start piling on breakfast items to eat. Luckily, the man you were looking for was right in front of you.

“Bonjour,” you said, tone light.

Pol shot you a look, but didn’t question your cheery attitude. “Salut.”

“Tu as l'air différent ce matin. Plus beau. Avez-vous fait quelque chose avec vos cheveux? Ou changer de tenue? [You look different this morning. More handsome. Did you do something with your hair? Or change your outfit?]”

“Non? Qu'est-ce que tu fais? [No? What are you up to?]”

You shrugged. “Je te donne juste un compliment. [Just giving you a compliment.]”

He finished stacking up his food and started to head back to the table, you following behind him.

As soon as you sat down, you began conversing once more. Running a hand lightly through his styled hair, you asked, “Êtes-vous sûr de n'avoir rien changé? [Are you sure you didn't change anything?]”

Jotaro let out a sigh, tilting his hat down. “Good grief. Here we go again.”

Pol shooed your hand away. “Oui. Maintenant mange. [Yes. Now eat.]”

This was the regular all day. Any chance you got, you’d pay him a compliment in French. The poor frenchman didn’t know what you were up to, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

After dinner, when the ones who were old enough to drink went down to the bar, was when things really started heating up.

Avdol and Joseph sat beside you as you sat beside Pol. They were busy chatting when they noticed you start a conversation. Despite not understanding, they decided to listen in.

“Belle nuit, non? [Beautiful night, no?]” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you stirred your glass.

You were right. It was beautiful.

“Oui [yes],” he agreed.

“Pas aussi beau que toi [not as beautiful as you],” you quipped, nudging him with your elbow.

He let out a sigh. He would love nothing more than to take the compliment as it was, but he knew not to. He felt stupid not knowing what you were up to, but he had a feeling it had to do with him falling for your scheme of compliments. His expression remained neutral, though you spotted color appearing on his cheeks. You smirked.

“Cette nuit n'était pas si mauvaise, non? C'est pour ça que tu es parti? Parce que je n'étais pas assez bon? Parce que je serais prêt à réessayer. Donnez-moi une autre chance et je jure que vous ne voudrez plus jamais quitter le lit. [That night wasn't so bad, was it? Is that why you left? Because I wasn't good enough? Because I'd be willing to try again. Give me another chance and I swear you'll never want to leave the bed.]” Your feet nudged his legs as you spoke.

You felt his shoulder tense underneath you.

“Ce n'est pas ça et tu le sais. [That's not it and you know it.]”

You began to trace the top of his hand with your nails, drawing little shapes. You noticed the hair on his arms stand up.

“Je ne te crois pas~~~~ [I don't believe you~~~~]”

Joseph leaned over to whisper to Avdol. “I think she might be flirting with ‘im.”

“Why would she do that if he broke her heart?”

Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never understood a woman’s true motives a day in my life, that’s why I was asking you what you think.”

“I’m a fortune teller, Mr, Joestar, not a mind-reader.”

Dismissing Avdol, Joseph tuned back into what was happening on the other side of him.

You now had one arm wrapped around his bicep, the other trailing a nail from his hand up to his shoulder and towards his neck.

“Rejoignez-moi dans ma chambre et convainquez-moi, n'est-ce pas? [Join me in my room and convince me there, won't you?]”

Polnareff gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from caressing his face. “Pourquoi fais-tu ça? Je sais que tu gardes toujours rancune. [Why are you doing this? I know you still hold a grudge.]”

You let out a weary sigh. “Oh chéri. S'il vous plaît. Arrêtons-nous avec les présentations et le bavardage. [Oh, love. Please. Let's just stop with the introductions and chit-chat.]”

With that, you stood up, moving to grasp his wrists and lead him away from the bar.

Joseph turned to Avdol but the Egyptian shook his head. “We’re not following them. Well, I’m not. I’ll be in the room. You’re welcome to do whatever, Mr. Joestar, but I’ll have no part.”

Avdol got up, moving towards the stairs.

Joseph scoffed. “Well, fine.” He ran after Avdol. “Wait for me!”

You let out a sigh of relief. You brought Pol out into the empty patio, and there was no sign of the other two following you. You breathed out, breath visible in the cool air.

“I think we’re alone now,” you said. “Finally.”

Polnareff turned to you, expression one that was commonly found on him present. Confusion. “What are you trying to accomplish? Just tell me.”

You said nothing, your hands tracing up both of his arms before resting against his cheeks. You used your thumb to caress his face. Fluttering your eyelashes, you gave him a look he recognized from way back in that hotel in France. You leaned up, getting on your tippy toes.

Despite the logical side of his brain telling him he shouldn’t, he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in.

Your lips met, but before anything could happen, you pulled away suddenly. You were crying.

“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” You backed away from his grasp. “I’m sorry.” Polnareff’s heart shattered. He hated seeing you in tears, especially since he didn’t know the reason. He assumed it was probably him. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip. “I was going to get revenge,” you said. “Do to you what you did to me. But I can’t. If… if I go up to your room and do what we did together when we were teens I could never convince myself to leave you. Because I’m still in love with you, and not just a little bit. A lot. So much that it hurts. And I don’t want you hurt, even though you hurt me. Because I’m stupid in love with you.”

For such a talkative man, he had nothing to say.

You two just stood in silence, cold air freezing your skin as you rubbed your arms. You let out a shaky sigh, eyes closing. You felt like an idiot. A love-sick idiot.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a broad chest that smelled of French alcohol and cigarette smoke. You took in a breath.

“I should be the one apologizing, ma chérie,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “You deserve the world and if I could go back I never would have left you in that room. I just-- you had such big plans. You were an exchange student from America who was studying things I couldn’t even pronounce. I was some dumb nobody scrounging and wallowing about with no real purpose.”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, arms moving to wrap around his neck as you glanced up at him. “You’re such an idiot, Jean Pierre.”

“I know,” he said, giving you a small smile. His cheeks were pink. “I really do know.”

“But I’d like you to be MY idiot from now on, if that’s okay with you.”

He gave a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you’re willing to take me back, even in this hell of a situation we’re in right now, then I’d love nothing more, ma chérie.”

Your response was in the form of a kiss. But this time, it wasn’t a short one.

What finally pulled you two apart was a familiar gruff voice from a few stories above. “I knew it! I knew it!”

You both looked up, shooting glares at the elderly Joestar. He gave you a quick smile before popping his head back inside his window.

You let out a giggle, Polnareff chuckling along.

“Oh my,” you sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grinned. “I have no idea, myself, ma chérie. But we’ll have a bizarre adventure finding out!”

That night, you two shared a bed, snuggled up against each other. There was nothing more than scattered kisses shared, but it was a pleasant night, nonetheless.

When morning came, however, and you were met with strong arms embracing you from behind as a familiar snore sounded in your ear, you felt better than you had in years. More specifically, since that night in France.

Letting out a hum, you turned to kiss his forehead. “God, I love you, you big French idiot,” you mumbled. And you meant it.

Hope you enjoyed! <3

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emsartwork · 5 years

Photo

Ask dump!

1. I have drawn daphne and thoren! If you want me to draw them together like romantically you could commission me!

2. yeah in my version musa is not royalty. And actually her dad isn’t even from meolody. He’s a refugee/immigrant from Zhen, a planet currently embroiled in a terrible civil war. though “hip-hop palace guards” is one hell of a line. @moonpeachblossom

3. Sure! I hc that Riven is actually very good at mechanics. He doesn’t really work with a lot of “high-tech” machines but he and timmy are the go to engineers on the specialists’ ships, though timmy is usually running the system and fixing those problems, while riven is in the engine room fixing mechanical problems. He was also the first of the guys to try his hand at fixing the car on earth and i think he would have taken to it really well if they had stayed with that job lol.

4. hmmm... thats a good question, i think Andros and Melody would be tilted, lynphea would have a verrrry slight tilt, zenith and domino wouldn’t, and don’t even get me started on solaria i don’t know enough about space physics to answer that.

5. hahahahaha tecna, riven, and duman can be the pink hair bad at emotions club.

6. maybe a combo? i think the winx’s magic would kind of “vibe” with the magic in the wands, and each of the girls would end up with the best vibe they got.

7. Yesssssssssss........... World of Winx is going to eventually be added in, after i redesign cosmix probably, tho chronologically the world of winx events and transformations would take place towards the beginning of the fourth season. lol im still trying to figure out how to make it compliant with my version somehow.

8. hmmmmm...... Most of Daphne’s spell would be devoted to physical traits, but bloom does have a better resistance to poisons than most Dominians as a lingering effect of Daphne’s protection. She’s kind of like.... 1/4th earthian as a result of her childhood. @drops-of-moonlights

9. OMG YES TOTALLY. as long as you credit me I would LOVE to see what people do with my ideas. thank you so much this is the best complement ever. @beacon28

10. I don’t have any plans to do a long comic right now lol, maybe some short ones in the future but we’ll see. I haven’t done cosmix yet! Im super excited to! I kinda want to wait for a dub or sub so i know exactly whats happening tho haha @burstingenigma

11. I haven’t done cosmix yet! Im super excited to! I kinda want to wait for a dub or sub so i know exactly whats happening tho haha. I agree its a little plain looking, but honestly its a nice change from the usual clashing color schemes. I might do more designs of Roxy! I’d like to actually do a “not quite the winx club” group set of roxy, daphne, mirta, lucy, galatia, and krystal(and maybe diaspro) but i wanna get the official stuff done first.

12-13. Yes! I am planning on do Krystal and Galatia in the next minor character set, i’m trying to figure out who else to do lol im running out haha @drops-of-moonlights

14. (this is reference to my drawing of mitzi here where I’m not sure what title to give her) Jealousy seems a little too.... on the nose, and if i made her a magic user i would want her to be a fairy, we don’t have enough nasty fairies tbh. @drops-of-moonlights suggested Fairy of Jellyfish(nice) because of her dress in the halloween episode(which i honestly did not know that was supposed to be a jellyfish i legit just thought she wore a tacky bedazzled cocktail dress as a halloween costume lmao), and @thishazeleyeddemon suggested Fairy of Theater which is actually a pretty nice concept! but i would probs design a different outfit for that lol

15. I haven’t seen regal academy! I would want to watch it before designing anybody tho. just from a glance i would start be giving everybody a different body type like geeze

16. It’s also because of Sky! Eraklyons are one of the only other races to have round ears instead of pointed. all the other half eraklyons(ophelia and selene) take after the moms instead of the dads @yellowmagicalgirl

Haha thank you! Anemone is low-key my fave and i’ll probs draw her fairy form soon here.

#winx #winx club #winxems #winx bloom #winx stella #winx flora #winx aisha #winx musa #winx tecna #askems #ask dump #drops-of-moonlights #yellowmagicalgirl #burstingenigma #moonpeachblossom #thishazeleyeddemon #beacon28 #anonymous

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summoner-kentauris · 5 years

Text

plotbunny zachfonse coffee shop au that im probably never going to finish but i thought you guys might enjoy it nonetheless!

It’s seven thirty one exactly on Monday morning, and Sharena runs into the café like hel on fire.

Alfonse stops wiping down the counter and does a double take. Sharena has a schedule, but it’s a very particular one. He’s never, ever seen her face before ten am, usually not until eleven-twenty, when she comes scattering in with at least one of her roommates in tow, grabbing a quick latte before grinning and bustling out of the door in a vain attempt to not be late to her eleven-fifteen class.

“Hiya!” she says loudly, and plunks her bag on the counter like it’s full of a ton of rocks. It makes a loud THUNK noise, and Alfonse winces.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, in a whisper that still manages to hover over the tranquil morning atmosphere in the shop.

“Are you late for something?” he asks suspiciously.

The somber girl standing beside and behind Sharena cracks a smile at that.

“Al!” Sharena exclaims. “I would never be late for a midterm.”

“Calculus-” the girl pipes up.

“That was one time-”

“Sharena!”he interrupts, and pats the air gently. This time, it’s Sharena wincing.

“Sorry,”she says again.

She’s certainly gotten herself worked up over whatever midterm this is, though, that wouldn’t be quite unusual. Still, Alfonse is having a hard time figuring out just what has inspired this early morning energetic panic. A study session too, if the weight of her bookbag is any indication. Looking at Sharena’s friend isn’t any help, either. Reese is hard to read on the best of days, and today she is sporting one of her many impassive stares.

“What class?” he asks.

“History.” They both answer immediately, simultaneously, with one unusually distraught groan each.

He’s a little taken aback. “I...thought you both liked your history class? What happened?”

Sharena wiggles a little and then settles into her we-ELL have I got some news posture, only to be interrupted by Reese throwing down some scattered coins onto the counter and grabbing Sharena’s arm.

“New professor, long story,” she says gruffly. “Let’s go Ray, we’re running low on time.”

“The usual?” he’s forced to call after them, as they wind their way to their favorite tall chairs at the corner table.

Reese waves her arm nonchalantly, and then they disappears into a haze of planning and papers.

He sighs, and breathes in, and takes stock of the returning calm quiet. Sharena and Reese are not the only ones swamped by paperwork this morning. All of Alfonse’s regulars are here today. Sitting outside today is the healer, a short nifl man whose light skin is splotchy red from the sunburn he got falling asleep out there yesterday. His godsawful shift at the hospital ends at six-thirty in the morning, and he originally had taken to pacing around on the sidewalk outside until opening like a lost puppy right up until the day Alfonse just shook his head and started letting him in. He’s deep into his third espresso and fourth newspaper. At the table on the other side of the door are the artist twins from down the street. They’re Askran, both with deep magenta hair. One keeps hers in a braid, the other keeps hers mostly cut off, and that’s about the only way to tell the two apart. That and a teeny little scar one of them has about her left purple eye. Alfonse is pretty sure they come from serious money, given he’s never seen them actually engage in making art, but they do talk nonstop about what they’ve bought. They’re signing energetically back and forth over an intimidatingly tall mountain of photographs. More than once, they’ve gotten too animated and knocked over their drinks. Alfonse wonders idly if he should go ahead re-drag out the supplies out for their long, complicated, terrifyingly expensive order.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the shop there are a few locals on laptops. Then in the front there is his friend Anna napping on her notebook next to a hot chocolate she never drinks. Her curly red ponytail in flopped over her face, and she’d be embarrassed if Alfonse ever told her she snores, just a little. It usually means she’s having...well, she calls them good dreams, but often they lead her to try implementing some hare-brained scheme for the shop. Smushed up with her nose metaphorically against the window is the Múspellian. She’s short, with deep, dark skin and pure orange hair that she keeps slicked back in the most severe and ‘i’m mature’ of ponytails. She’s too young to be from the college, and Alfonse has worried more than once about her. She never talks, though. Alfonse doesn’t even know her name. She came in once with a firefighters helmet though, and as soon as Sharena found out she immediately declared to a doubtful Alfonse that this meant the girl was a firefighter, or perhaps a firefighter intern, whatever such a thing may be.

And then of course in the back there is the new guy. New guy. New guy is tall and buff, intimidating and elegant. He’s got sunkissed skin that is a saturated medium brown, and the one time his large black and gold-rimmed sunglasses slipped he had underneath the most intriguing, defiant pair of eyes. One, a red color that, alarmingly, seemed to almost reflect and refract like a melted gem, the other a faint, rich gold. Alfonse has spent more time hoping New Guy’s glasses would slip again that he would like to admit, but he only hopes it because Alfonse can’t get a read on him otherwise. He doesn’t actually ever get anything other than water, but puts good coffee money in the tip jar. Other than a soft ‘good morning’ and precise pleases and thank yous, new guy doesn’t talk either, none of the Morning Regulars really ever do, but he, less than most. Unlike the other regulars, New Guy is composed in the mornings and completely free of the kinds of small tells and fidgeting details Alfonse would usually use to spin stories about his customers.

He has a routine, of course. He’s there’s every weekday promptly at 7:07, so Alfonse figures he’s taking the 7:05 aetherail into the city. Not only does he have the one Emblian red eye, but he’s also got Emblian hair, beautifully long, tantalizingly fluffy and pastel white. Yet despite the current diplomatic tension, he’s here, in Askr, five days a week. And unless he’s taking the hours-long commute from one country to another, he lives here. More contradictions, he dresses in an oddly formal, precise, businesswear that’s both charmingly antique and blisteringly modern, the kind of coldly fashionable style that is ragingly popular among the high-power suits-and-slacks businesspeople downtown. But, who has coffee uptown when he has to be downtown for work? And he has to disembark from the aetherail to boot, which means he’d have to take the metroway to continue, and everyone in the city takes the metroway from time to time, certainly, but in all the weeks he’s been coming here Alfonse has never seen the man so much as brush up against another person, dodging contact gracefully and subtly even when a collision seemed, to Alfonse’s practiced eye, inevitable…

Alfonse shakes his head and drags himself back to the present. Mystery man is a puzzle Alfonse shouldn’t be so focused on now, or really, ever. New guy has his water for the day, and his single large off-brand e-reader instead of his occasional neat stacks of paper, which means he’s busy, much like Alfonse should be. Midterms hadn’t snuck up on Alfonse, but Sharena’s arrival was a reminder that he needed to be at his most alert for the next few days.

He rolls the momentary tension out of his shoulders, finishes wiping down the counter, and then dives back into the daily work of keeping his little coffee shop running.

#kentauris' wips #kentauris writes #im ging to try and start using that tag again #zachfonse #coffeeshop au

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baebranding · 2 years

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Okay The Real Spill Is..

So a few minutes ago i found myself writing some bullshit think piece on the dramatics of getting started. Real Shit?

It’s not that hard to start a business. It’s just alot of work.

I think the part that scars alot of people and the “modern” woman is that realization that yes , you will be definitely putting in just as much if not more work as you do at your current job . Surprise!

I can make the process sound precise and simple and I can promise you will make 1000$ in a second or whatever get rich quick schemes yall like to always run to, but i would only been lying. You will still nd up spending twice as much to make sure you have a brand that is marketable and let alone even running.

So the real spill..

Im at the process of designing. I love getting creative and finding a creative mindset. I love creating setus that fit my mood. That i know will feel right in my soul. Making a website is annoying and the marketing is a pain in my as. IM SO DAMN PICKY!! I kep gtting up to walk in a circle just waiting for any spark of color in my brain to spark something. Other times i feel like i just wanna do shit myself so i start sinking into 50 billion youtube videos. If my man heres me ask for another gadget that i dont need, hes gonna strangle me i swear.

For starters,

I know i cant be the only one that thought”this is all it took? this is where yall wear finding this stuff?” I thought someone just gave me the key to life on a golden platter. SIKE! this was just the beginning. But what did i know. Then it started, what the hell would i even do with this?

I Thought clothes. But i feel like even girl my age is either doing clothes or lashes. i really dont have time for a female to fight me over an idea that 60 other females and a fish thought of. Then he comes my super hero boyfriend with the question of the century : “What do you like?” . Me being the delight that i am, i said food first. The was obviously dismissed quick. Then as he walked past with that glorious print holding his pants up, I said “dick” .

BING . there we go!!

but where do i even begin to get that from? Do i rob the nearest Spencers ? Nope i use my skills as a retail worker. I research it. It also helped that I had some business savvy-ish friends. Karlisa, my forever wife and coach, you re loved and appreciated. I got straight to work . It started with going through phone apps. Then websites. Then my thoughts. What is th name going to be?

Now FYI ive changed the name about a billion times until i found one that really suited me and not what sounded good to me.

reread the last line.

Anything will sound good . But was it always good ? Probably not. I wanted something classy. I farted on my boyfriend that same night. I wanted something bad ass but still classy. I only had two movie to draw from for inspiration. i wanted something sexy too But not like Yandy.com-esque sexy. I finally came back to pintrest and some photo shop app. I spent weeks will note making trying to play around with ideas in my head. what will the models look like? what will the shoots look like?

Sometimes its alot harder when you gotta figure it out for yourself. My man i pretty chill so he doesnt always blurt out ideas like i do. Plus he gets a kick out of me being crazy sometimes. i will admit it does get a little crazy here when im out of ideas. SO he sat with me and offered his services. His insight. im not aying you gotta involve the whole gang but its okay to not have all the answers. I found myself researching other factors that i probably wouldnt have had he not said anything.

COMMUNICATION IS KEY!!!!!!!!

in all aspects, actually. For example, i havent made my own clothes since i was like 7 when my gma taught me and that talent went right out the window. But id learn about fashion at 13. I learned about the importance of different fabrics at 18. I learned about the people who produce the same sweater im wearing right now. Fashion was always something i was passionate about. but like in a defenive way. like i didnt want to be judged for getting rid of my wire hangers. iF YOU DONT KNOW SOMETHING, ITS OKAY TO ASK. Contact the people that design the products youre working with. Take classes. Read a book. Watch a video .

HAVE FUN.

i know youre swamped. Thats normal. but at some point have some fun. Life aint always business and you shouldnt feel the same way you do when you are at work. Enjoy the process. This is the part that you get to put all of you into the world. Be excited ! I cant wait for the reactions because I feel like its going to make so much sense after. When you have fun, you show confidence. That you dont have any worries. It creates a trust factor between you and your consumer.

Lastly but not leastly,

take your time. Of course make sure you are on track with the times, but its not a race. Comb over each and every part of your ideas. cant tell you how many mistakes ive already made an i havent even gone public yet. Make sure this is something you are willing to make time for as well. If you arent willing, because nobody really has that much time anymore, you will no get anything done. Your dreams will always be second.

#businessforstarters #love journal womanhood women tumblr blog viral reflection #lgbt #love #reflection #blog #blogging #pop #real #honest

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space-lions-and-imagines · 6 years

Text

A Very Merry Voltron Valentine’s ft. Pidge

Alternate title: Lance is a little instigating shit and pidge is a huge sappy nerd

A/N this was done with literally no editing or beta so mistakes be damned! Take my trash and do what you will with it lol

~1900 words

“There is no capitalism in space Lance,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes as she tried to find the perfect ratio of alien ingredients to make the brown sludge in her cup taste like coffee. “And even if we were on Earth I would still try to fight the good fight against corporate schemes that disguise themselves as holidays. Its evil to try and trademark love,” she said pushing herself onto the counter and taking a long sip. Still terrible but if it was giving her at least some sort of buzz so worth it for the time being.

Nothing, however, was worth seeing that horrible ‘I know something you don’t know’ look that Lance wore so proudly. Pidge frowned, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug trying her hardest to not ask. Asking would mean giving in and admitting she was curious in whatever gossip he had. Even if she was dying to know why he even brought up the subject of Valentine’s Day she didn’t want to feed into his teenage soap opera ways. Lucky for her though he wasn’t very good at keeping things to himself.

“That is very noble. I’m sure you must have been very popular amongst all your tech nerd buddies who also never had dates. But things are different now pidge! You do have a date and maybe they don’t share the same fight the system inclinations you do,” Lance said with what he must have thought was a very casual wave of his hand as he leaned on the counter opposite Pidge “But if you don’t care that s/o got you something well then that’s none of my business,” he continued looking down to pick at his nails.

Pidge’s first thought was that with the right forward momentum she could easily knock Lance to the floor and force him to tell everything he knew about the gift. Of course that’s probably what he wanted judging by his eyebrows lost somewhere in his hairline and toothy smile. So instead she cleared her throat and said “I have to go. Right now. Immediately. And you still can’t pressure me into this …. No matter what may happen in the future know that you had nothing to do with it!” as she ran out of the kitchen.

Pidge’s time off was supposed to be spent working on some personal projects, mostly working on some of her language courses before the castle started beeping at her and projecting holographic reminders in her room. Now she was desperately trying to figure out exactly what romance was even supposed to be. She had visions of hearts and fat babies with bows dancing around her head as she tried to remember what Valentines was like back home. She groaned, pulling at her hair and slumping onto her bed. “Sure Pidge you’re suuuuuuch a genius. Alien tech, no problem. Giant lion weapon system, no problem. Get your date mate a nice present and suddenly I’m as intelligent as a snail. Ugh no … that’s an insult to snails!” she mumbled grabbing a pillow to scream into.

She did nothing but simmer like that for a long time, the wheels turning and turning in her head to the point she was sure there was smoke coming out of her ears. Then suddenly she sat up right, the fire moving from her brain to her eyes. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I can’t figure this out the way Lance would. I have to solve it my way. Besides my way is going to end up being much more efficient and not only help myself but all other romantically troubled people to come!” she announced to her audience of scattered tools and crushed energy drink cans before setting to her new task: finding the scientific solution to the perfect Valentine’s Day.

It was at best a show of her dedication to s/o but at its worst, and somewhere a little closer to the truth, it looked like a conspiracy theorist wall. Pictures and words taped to the wall with multicolored string creating a makeshift obstacle course. Several people had tried to come check on her only to look at the mess, decide it wasn't their problem and walk right back out. Even s/o had been warned about Pidge’s strange project and hadn’t been around except to leave snacks and the occasional ‘remember to drink lots of water!’ note. At long, long last though she was certain that she had the key. A fool proof plan she had gotten all of the details perfected at three o’clock in the morning.

Well almost perfect, she had neglected one detail in her pursuit of scientifically backed romance; she had absolutely no idea where to get any of it. They were currently trying to lay low which meant there was no guarantee of the next time they would be going off ship. The only option she had was to work with what was around the castle … it was going to be a long day.

~*~

Pidge had looked rough before, forgetting to sleep for a couple days could do that but it was nothing compared to how she looked and felt now. It seemed like it was just disaster after another, she tried to not think of it as a metaphor for her life. First it was the flowers, a classic and what she assumed would be the easiest considering Allura had a greenhouse tucked away in the upper stories of the castle. Pidge had found the most appealing colors and shapes, trying to match those she knew from Earth, to create the ultimate bouquet. It was going great until she broke into a rainbow of rashes in some equally as colorful places on her body. That dream was quickly squashed.

Pidge thought that at least she could have a nice dinner and some chocolates to give to s/o, Hunk was a sap for that mushy kind of stuff. Heck he had been making everything heart shaped for month in preparation for the big day! Yet Pidge had all but been laughed out when she brought her requested menu. “Dude I would love to help you and I can do what I can buuuuut this is not Earth. I don’t have anything that’s even close to, what was it you wanted steak? Really, steak? And truffles? Oh man I wish I had access to some chocolate! It’s a nice thought but the best I can do is like a trio of space goo,” Hunk said before Pidge kicked that damned goo machine and left.

The rest of her tasks when just about the same. The closest thing to a stuffed animal she found was the training robots. The shiniest thing she could find to try and make jewelry was scraps of galra tech which just seemed ominous. She had managed to blow up something resembling a balloon but discovered whatever gas she used was very unstable finally leaving her empty handed and half an eyebrow short.

She trudged back to her room late into the night, worse for the ware and completely down in spirits. “This is what I get for turning my back on my morals, karma apparently works over time in space,” she snorted as she belly flopped onto the bed wondering if she suffocated in the sheets if she would be allowed out of the Valentine’s celebrations that she was sure Lance had planned for later the next day. She was perfectly willing to wallow in her own sadness until she was dragged out to see what amazing thing s/o had gotten her when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Her heart fluttered, knowing who it had to be but almost hoping that it wasn’t. The soft footsteps could only belong to one person and despite the fact nothing was going right Pidge was happy to hear them. After all the trouble and disappointment they were the only person she could think of that she would want to be around. Even if she had nothing to give in return. “Hey there stranger, I didn’t realize we had someone new living in the castle. I have heard a ghost has been roaming as of late though,” they teased as they sat on the edge of the bed with legs crisscrossed. “I did try ghost hunting but haven’t had much luck …. Ya know I missed you Pidge,” they added with quiet sincerity.

It wasn’t posed as a question or even with the air of sad guilt for which Pidge was eternally grateful. It was something she appreciated with their relationship; there was never any need to explain her weird habits until she was ready to talk. “Im a weirdo who doesn’t deserve your patience but I will selfishly accept it,” Pidge said slumping and twisting around until her head was resting in their lap, her arms hugging their waist. “But good news is ghostbusters have stopped by and eliminated all ghosts. I’m back to being my usual annoying goblin of a person,” she said grinning up at them.

“Mmm you are definitely more of a troll but whatever you decide to be, as long as you’re mine again, I’m happy~” they cooed down at her, rubbing her arm and bending down to kiss the top of her head. Pidge gave a content sigh and wanted to bury herself in this moment, get lost in the warmth and serenity of being reunited with them. “Aaaaaaan because you’re mine I kinda got you something. Lance has been on my case about Valentine’s Day, which I personally think is a sort of emotional cop out but I couldn’t resist a chance at arts and crafts,” they grinned, gently scooching Pidge over to reach for something in their pocket.

Pidge expected to be a nervous wreck, feeling so low that she would want to puke but she instead found herself actually anxious to see what it was. The earlier disdain of not being able to make a perfect gift a shadow in the back of her mind, almost laughable in that moment. She held out her hand to accept what she now saw was a card, pushing herself up to get a better view of what it said. On the front there was a cartoonish picture of a galaxy, stars and planets dotting the shimmery blue paper, and bubble letters that read ‘Are you stuck in space Valentine?’ then opened up to a very crude sketch of what was undeniably a butt surrounded by all capital letters in harsh red print ‘BECAUSE THAT ASS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD.’

There was silence for a minute, while s/o sat biting their lip, opening their mouth stuttering about how they weren’t a great artist and that she didn’t have to like it she just thought the joke was funny but they could totally forget the whole thing. Only shutting up when Pidge crashed her lips against their own, laughing into the kiss so hard they seemed to be vibrating against each other, tears wetting their cheeks before they pulled away gasping for air while the last fit of giggles left their systems.

“This is perfect. You’re perfect,” Pidge said, arms wrapped around s/o’s neck with her forehead resting against theirs. They giggled again and kissed the tip of her nose “Only cause I have someone to be perfect for,” they replied with another smile which Pidge happily returned. Again she didn’t deserve someone this amazing but she wouldn’t want anything else.

#pidge #pidge x reader #voltron x reader #pidge fanfic #im not super happy with the middle #but i like the beginning and end #*shrugs*

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

Photo

Ok, ok. So this is my Highblooded fantroll, Dommih. If your still available, can you please help me out?

Thanks for your patience! As we clear the backlog, your troll caught my eye because of the interesting sprite.

Also, im sorry if its a bit weird, im on the mobile version of tumblr.

FIRST: Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Alternia, my own session of sgrub

Aight, per the rules I gotta be stricter with my sprite edits! I know it’s frustrating but unless otherwise stated we do our best to remain a canon-compliant blog (though the current batch of trolls in the Troll Call have successfully invalidated a number of our former “rules”). In the end I *did* give you a bonus shirtless version since I felt there was detail that went unconveyed with his shirt on.

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why):

Dommih Presea

The first name i had used a generator. It was one of the only ones that really stood out for me! As for his last name, its was a play on ‘Pixies’ and fish puns, (sea being the pun). I had messed around with the first part for a bit until it started looking somewhat readable. This happened until it is what you see today!

Hmmm I can get down with the last name, but for the first how about Doflin, from the scientific name for the North Pacific giant octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini). It also helps that it kinda sounds like “dolphin,” if you wanna keep going with the nods to oceanic fauna.

Age: 6 sweeps

Strife Specibus: Bident-kind

Fetch Modus: Connect four

If we wanna strengthen the octopus theme, why don’t we go with a MASSIVE Connect Eight? It would be an exceptionally difficult modus from which to retrieve anything, which means Doflin needs to be very quick on his feet! Er, tentacles?

Blood color: Magenta (i would very much love to keep it as it is!)

I’m probably going to adjust it to Feferi’s color which is pretty close to what you already gave me tbh.

Symbol and meaning: his symbol, pictured above, was a twist on Feferi’s own symbol. I simply curved it abit, and added the swirls one end of each side, as you can see!

Honestly I think it fits! I went and resprited it using Feferi’s actual symbol as a base so it reads a little neater but it’s p good. I think you sent this in before the extended zodiac was released, so if you want him further adjusted to fit with the new canon I am more than happy to do so! I personally think Picorn works well because a) I classed him as a Rage player and b) it kinda looks like a tentacle’s sucker.

Lusus: Octopus

I believe all tyrianbloods have Gl’bgolyb as a lusus since there’s only ever supposed to be one at a time, which is just as well since she’s basically a massive octopus anyway. Male tyrianbloods are supposedly exceptionally rare, and trolls are often matched with a lusus of the same gender for whatever reason, so if you’re dead set on having an Octodad in true videogame fashion, it may help to come up with a reason why.

(For example, perhaps Gl’bgolyb gave birth to a horrifying troll-horrorterror hybrid, and Doflin is a test troll who has been given to this hybrid to test if it can be used as a backup parent for backup heirs? It would give Doflin a reason to play in his (presumably doomed) run of SGRUB if he doesn’t have much to do save wait for his antecedent to die, which is unlikely to happen in the near future, and it would also give you a convincing reason for his odd appearance; it doesn’t matter if he’s a mutant since he’s basically a test run who isn’t expected to succeed the Condesce)

Personality: He is a narcissistic troll, who takes pleasure in hurting other trolls and seeing others suffer. He wouldnt care if you were to break your arm, there would be no sympathy. He lies, cheats sometimes, and finally, has stolen from others. However, he only sees it as fun, and doesn’t want to change for anything.

I think the fundamental problem here is that you are describing someone who fits perfectly with Alternian ideals and nothing else. This would be like giving me a bio for a human that said “they like to hang out sometimes!” What does that mean? This doesn’t mean that a character cannot have that trait, but that there needs to be specificity. For example, a character who likes to hang out might do so at a mall, at their friends’ parties, or just invite a person or two to come home and play video games. Each of those details gives a clearer picture of the kind of person it is.

So, give me more details to flesh him out! Does he go wandering around populated areas looking for a fight, or is he the type to meticulously plan a one-man heist? Is this attitude the reason he’s so scarred all over? What’s the story behind that? Answering these questions will help you in the future when you try to stay consistent with his characterization.

Title: Kaiser of Life (i would also love to keep this)

I just looked this up and it looks like, as a fan class, it’s basically Prince of Life but with a higher ranking? It’s my personal bias that most fan classes are easily subsumed by a sufficiently well-explained canon title, but I guess I don’t object to just the cosmetic change. However, the character you’ve described doesn’t seem to be a Life player at all (even one from a destructive class!), especially since your bio doesn’t really specify that he’s a cold-blooded murderer so much as that he’s just…apathetic? I would say he seems more like a Rage player, especially since he’s set in his ways and furthermore narrows others’ options through injury. Personally, I feel he’d make a good Thief of Rage, especially since “high class thief” is a fun trope to play with.

Land: Land of Precipice and Silence

I kinda like Land of Onslaught and Outbursts, an underwater land with active volcanoes that must explode to create a land path to the denizen atop a high mountain. Unfortunately, doing so endangers the aquatic life! It’s a perfect parallel to both his status as a seadweller highblood and is a means of harnessing his own violent outbursts to a greater end.

Dream Planet: Derse (same here!)

I’m always okay with tyrianbloods on Derse, especially since Gl’bgolyb is herself a minor horrorterror.

On to the redesign!

Your sprite was saved a JPEG and much larger than a standard sprite, so I sized it down for comparison and basically made a new one while copying over elements of the original.

Horns - based on your description of his symbol, I figured you were going for horns similar to Feferi’s with minor alterations. So I literally just took Feferi’s horns and added a hook to the end of one of them. I also liked the kind of curly ones you added to the bottom, so I have a miniature version nestled in all that hair.

Hair - I started with a bun base from naphal’s sprite sheet, then merged with with the hair you already gave him, then futzed with it for a long, long time.There’s a new instagram trend called an “octopus bun,” which is basically just a fancy term for the messy bun that we’ve all done if we’ve had long hair that we needed out of the way, but it gave me a good starting point. If you count the tendrils of hair coming off his head, you’ll find that there are eight, and it really does look like there’s an octopus sitting on his head!

Eyes/Scars - I actually just used your existing unscarred eye to create a template for the cleaner ones. The other eye is a little scrunched up due to the scar tissue over it, which I grabbed from this template by fryingpanismyweapon on deviantArt. This is the case for all of the additional scars you see on him.

Freckles - I wasn’t sure if there were freckles on your original troll or just noise from saving it as a JPEG, but between that and the fact that you used a grey tinged with his blood color, I liked the idea of some grey and blood colored freckles on him. I used this template from x_pandatastic_x to get the effect, then messed with the existing ones to get his other freckles. You can see in the shirtless version that I provided that the freckles cover his entire body.

Ears - he’s a seadweller so unless you have a reason he’s gotta have the fin ears.

Mouth - once again, I just took the one you made and cleaned it up a bit! I feel like it has a lot more personality than any sprite sheet template I could conjure up.

Shirt - like I said, if this is an Alternian he still (usually) needs a black something with his symbol on it (though as I mentioned before, recent Troll Call reveals have indicated that it doesn’t need to be as strict as we previously thought). I used naphal’s sprite sheet to give me a base, then messed with it until I got something that resembled a swim shirt. That said, I still gave him a shirtless sprite to show that I kept the chest scars under all that

Fins - I will honestly admit that this is just a spriting limitation for me. I could not for the life of me figure out how to make the fins work on the torso without looking atrocious. I still liked the element, though, so I grafted them onto the backs of his feet with some scar tissue and ripping to boot.

Shorts - I noticed that you did pants for your original sprite, but given his whole concept it really felt like he was more of a swim shorts guy. Once again, I used naphal’s sprite sheet for a base, then added details like the drawstring to try and fit with what you were originally going for. The teal color you used for the majority of the shorts in your sprite didn’t really track for me without a solid reason, so I tried to devise my own color scheme. I came up with the purple pockets to reference Gamzee, the best-known canon rage player, and the blue underlining as a reference to Vriska, the thief. This is much in line with Feferi’s coloring which takes from Jade, the Beta Kids’ Witch, and Jane, the Alpha Kids’ Life player. As a bonus, it looks like that really specific color combo that all those soccer moms wore on their windbreakers in the late 90s/early 00s? I don’t know if you want to go that tacky, but I had a lot of fun doing so, and feel that there’s canon support given that every tyrianblood we’ve seen so far has been notoriously tacky with their fashion choices.

Feet - The barefoot one is from tajazzled/fan-troll’s now-ubiquitous sprite sheet. You used some fairly standard shoes for him, which worked just fine, but after I made the foot fins I wanted to give him footwear that made sense to me. Since one of them is ripped, I figured some scuba flippers would be a good way for him to get around underwater. This one is modified from fantrollartroom’s templates.

Aaaaand that’s it! I really liked your character a lot, and I hope you like the changes I made!

-TR

#alice-from-wnderland #fuchsiablood #tyrianblood #dommih presea #doflin presea #dommih #doflin #presea #review #redesign #tr review #submission

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