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love-lilly02 · 2 months

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The Challenge— Chapter 9

When you died, you were going to have an all white funeral.

It was something that had been decided by your entire family, not even by your agreement but by tradition. According to them, a funeral was a celebration, not an occasion to be sad.

When you joined the 141, they were required to ask how you wanted preparations to be set up, if there were any “special requests.”

Your mom answered that one for you.

Never in his life did Gaz actually assume he would show up to a funeral in white.

He almost thought he would have to do it.

“This is bull shit!”

Soap’s yell snaps Gaz out of his thoughts, and he looks back at where the man is sitting on the edge of his seat yelling at the others in the room. Specifically you, who’s sitting there half in tears. If your laughing or crying is still completely unknown to him. “That clue is bull shit and you know it.”

“I’m literally HANDING you the answer!!” You yell back at him, almost choking over both your words and laughter at the same time.

“NO. YOU ARENT. THAT ANSWER IS SO SHITTY A TOILET WOUKDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!” Soap hollers back, and the rookies explode with laughter.

“ITS A FUCKING MOVE THEY DO!”

“I don’t know what the fuck a pas de deux is but it does NOT. EXIST.”

“Bitch i was one of these hoes for twelve years, I WOUKD KNOW”

And so it continues. It had started out with a simple game between the four of you, well, three considering Si opted out, but it quickly turned into a good natured screaming match over the game. Headbands always turned out like this though, at least whenever Soap played.

“Thirty seconds, suds.” Price grumbled from the couch, and you snapped your fingers quickly, trying to think of something to give him a hint.

“Fuck uhhh, okay The Nutcracker?”

“Actor?”

“No, no but you’re close. They move around a lot more?”

“A soldier.”

“No, damnit. Like, like— fuck, fuck!! Okay pink fluffy skirts-“

“DANCER!”

“Yes!!” You scream, and you both jump for joy. Everyone in the room cheers, and Gaz even notices Ghost crack a smile under his mask.

“Fuckin ‘Pas de Deux’ what kind of a clue is that” Soap grunts, knocking back another drink. You just roll your eyes, sighing loudly.

“It’s literally a dance move everyone knows. I could have said pirouette and you still wouldn’t catch on, I don’t see a difference.” The silent insult makes him chuckle, and Gaz’s smile widens.

“Lay offit ay? Not my fault nobody knows dance terms.”

“I actually knew that.” Gaz pipes up, and Ghost nods in agreement. “It is a pretty common dance move.”

You throw your hands in the air as if to say see fucker, I was right.

Soap just rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t know you danced,” Gaz said, lifting his drink to his lips. He tries to ignore the way your eyes follow the movement, or how it takes you a few seconds longer than usual to respond.

“Mhm. Did it with my sister for a while. Wasn’t very good, unfortunately.” Gaz nods, humming.

“When’d you quit?” He asks, pretending to swirl his drink around in the glass.

You eye him suspiciously, trying to blink through the haze the alcohol has made in your mind. “Few years back, round the same time I enlisted.”

Gaz nodded. It felt wrong, using you for information like this. But this had become more than just some challenge for him, it was genuine curiosity. Like there was a constant itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t get to die down unless he got some answers.

Usually, Ghost was the tech person. He would be the one to hack cameras, snoop on people, be the physical stalker. The problem they all ran into, though, is that a lot of your life was online. You were the youngest of them all, younger than Gaz even, and while they gave you shit for it, it meant you were way more online than they were.

Because of that, they couldn’t rely on just your files to tell them everything. There was a world hidden somewhere in all your deleted accounts, messages encoded in emails and photos from after your graduation. Piecing them together was too big of a job for one man alone, especially men of their age.

So they didn’t do it alone.

It took your near death experience to make grown ass men to realize how fucking stupid they were being about this. Simon said it himself, the 141 didn’t operate by itself. It was a team. They were a team. They did things together, which meant they would get their answers together. It also meant they would get to share you at the same time, but that wasn’t a foreign concept to them.

And none of them really had an issue sharing with each other.

That night, after everyone else had turned in , Gaz got to work. He used the best lead of you he had (your beginning of the year photo for Junior year, taken just before everything disappeared) and worked his way down. He flew through all of your files, finding names, dates and addresses. Long ago he figured out that numbers were the most important thing in a task like this. Without them you could get nowhere. He followed paths he had taken dozens of times, different directions to get to the same conclusion. There wasn’t anything there. Just like you predicted, it all stopped at your junior year.

This time, though, that wasn’t what he was looking for.

Once he hit that wall again, He went back and retraced his steps. He included references to clubs in his search, finding every extra circular at your school and looking into their history. Nothing came up for a long, long time.

It was nearly sunrise before he found something. Normal people would have seen this and not batted an eye, but Gaz was too keen in his research to miss it.

In an article about your schools dance team, just a few months before graduation two names glared out on the screen at him. Your name, and someone else’s who rhymed quite well with yours. The gears spun in his head, and he laughed to himself in pure shock.

They were on a a wild goose chase for the wrong person.

It explained why he was physically unable to find anything on you, because he wasn’t even looking for you in the first damn place. He was tracking down your sister.

He took the two names and pasted them into his system, hitting enter on the keyboard.

Over three hundred search results came up, but only one caught his eye.

“Local College student gets killed in school shooting, family is left devastated.”

He might have to do a bit more digging than he thought.

Finding the photos was the easy part. Now that he knew who you were, they were everywhere. You really had gotten up to a lot behind their backs, you had at least tried out every club once and volunteered everywhere in your damn state. It was impressive that you managed to switch personalities so quickly, going from someone so loud and outgoing to… well, you. He knew hiding this much information wasn’t easy, having to go under an alias a few times to escape capture taught him that the hard way. But you did it with ease, as if you…

Oh.

He had to tell Price.

AN: if you can spot the audio reference and tell me which audio it comes from, who made it and give me a time stamp i’ll post the next chapter early (as in; as soon as i see the ask/comment)

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

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quinloki · 1 year

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Hi!! First I just want to say as someone who is in the kink community your kink series is so good and I love it!!!! Can you please do Zoro,Law,and Shanks on collaring, after care, voyeurism .

\o/ THANK YOU ♥ That means a lot to me, I have a lot of connections to the kink community, but I'm not nearly as active as I'd like (some of it is residual pandemic stuff, yada yada, but still). I appreciate your appreciation. ^_^

Aahhhh and you're asking for After Care specifically <3 I love it \o/

I've made mention of fantasy vs reality in this series a few times, and I'll say it again - your fantasy can be rotten - revel in it if you want - but your reality has to be not-rotten. Consent is sexy, and after care is NOT optional.

Okay, personal/educational stuff aside lemme get into this because YES. Zoro, Law, Shanks, this could only be more perfect if it was Zoro, Law and Kid, but I will embrace this with my soul, don't worry ♥

(Also to be fair I've done Kid and collaring and I have talked about his aftercare game at length xD )

Roronoa Zoro:

Collaring - Sure/Yes - If it's important to you, then it's a yes. He'll learn the finer points, and do everything he can to make the entire process exactly what you could ever want. Without any input from you though, he's fairly neutral. He can certainly be possessive, but collaring in a consensual way is a little awkward to him. It's not something he's thought about on his own, and there wasn't any kind of similar ritual from his home island.

And, in his defense, he wasn't really paying attention to much that didn't have to do with swords until he came across you in the first place. If it is a ritual that's important to you though, Zoro the ever adept pupil will, eventually, if all things line up for it, eventually propose with a collar. White, maybe opal, with golden accents that will look suspiciously like his most treasured sword.

Aftercare - Yes - Zoro is functionally good at after care. He's not going to be over the top, but he is going to do it every time. How much he does will vary depending on your state - and if he has to give full service, he totally will. He's not usually big on talking, but you'll be surprised to find him carrying, and controlling, conversation afterward. Most of his reassurance will be in his actions, and most of his learning will be in his words.

Neither will go to waste.

Voyeurism - FUCK Yes - he doesn't want anyone watching you but him, and he didn't know how good watching you could be. It seemed almost absurd at first, to just look, but the two of you have worked out a few sessions and scenarios - times when he may or may not be watching you - and he can hide his presence well.

Just watching you do things was oddly invigorating for him, but watching you in the bath once, when you weren't aware he was there, and you started playing with yourself. He nearly came in his pants, and that first time ended up "breaking the spell" because he was so caught off guard by how it effected him that he made a noise. It led to some very hands on fun that time. >.>

Trafalgar Law:

Collaring - Yes - Law is more about control than possession. That said, if you are the de facto sub in the relationship he'll lean hard into his dom tendencies (he is, to me, 80-85% dom, 15%-ish brat). He'll get more possessive, though never outside of sessions. You'll talk about collaring long before it happens, and it's almost a ritual of him setting aside that 15% consciously.

In the end, he'll provide you with everything that will ever go around your neck again, whether it's his hand, a choker, a custom collar, or a heavy metal collar for more intense role-plays and sessions.

Aftercare - Oh god you don't even know - As I've said plenty of times before, Law is all about control. Aftercare provides an ultimate kind of control. He's not just controlling you or the session itself, he's controlling your recovery - mental, physical, it doesn't matter what kind. The conversation grounds both of you, and he'll never admit to you that he thrives of pampering you. He keeps insisting it's his job as the dom to care for you after a session, but he loves having a valid reason to just lavish you with care.

On dates and such he tends to get nervous, despite his best efforts, but in aftercare he shines. He may not always know the best gift to give, or the perfect words to say to you in the morning, but he knows how to make you feel valued and loved as he tends to the rope burns on your skin after a session.

Voyeurism - FUCK Yes - Law doesn't care much if someone else sees you, he just doesn't want anyone else to hear the sounds you make. He enjoys watching you, especially if you want to put on a show just for him. He'll purr into your ear about how other people could be watching - everything from teasing you in public places, to musing if there's any video camera/snails around watching you.

There's almost never anyone else around, but he'll have you convinced, and if you're absolutely against the public component he'll respect that. There's other ways to admire you, after all.

Shanks:

Collaring - I guess - He knows how to go about the process, all the little nuances and rituals and what have you, but it's not his vibe. He's not terribly possessive in the first place. Having kind of done it all, and also being open to doing it all, it's just not his vibe.

He won't be entirely against it, and he'll fill that void for you if you want it, but it's not really his thing. He is, to me, more dom than sub, but he's more in it for mutual pleasure, than any of the role dynamics of some kinks. (He'll role play like fiend, and tease you whenever he can, but that's as close as he gets.)

Aftercare - FUCK Yes - Shanks' Aftercare game is on point. He's had plenty of practice and a lot of it is almost second nature. He might not consciously fill the role of dom, but it doesn't stop him from taking care of his partner. I feel like he's almost always going to be the more experienced person in the relationship no matter what - he's just so much of a free spirit looking for a good time that I don't think anyone else could hope to keep up.

And he's not reckless or cruel, so he's good at the whole thing, from the chase, to the foreplay, to mutual pleasure, to the aftercare.

Voyeurism - Yes - watch him, let him watch you, let the crew watch, let them watch you, watch without knowing. I mean, if you're for it, he'll make it happen. Everyone will be a willing participant. He even has a version for you where you'll be blindfolded and unsure of who is or isn't watching. (And who is or isn't interacting with you if you've given consent for that).

Pleaser and teaser that he is, he has all sorts of ways he can make Voyeurism work. (He's also at least a little bit of an attention whore, and he won't argue it. If it makes you feel good, why fight it?)

Kinky one piece head canons

#kinky one piece head canon #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #shanks #x reader #shanks x reader #law x reader #zoro x reader

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mrssimply · 1 year

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19th: Sugar

This is clearly me saying "I'm sorry for yesterday's fic". Look, they're back on sweet and fluffy ground!

People close to me know I've had a... brief but very intense obsession with Dacre Montgomery without even watching Stranger Things. What had me absolutely obsessed was this. I had to incorporate that scene into a fic and when this challenge gave me an opportunity, I seized it.

If you don't know who Cedric Grolet is, or what he does I invite you to check, but maybe eat something before or you'll probably end up with a craving. Same for that fic, too.

I'm amazed by what he does, but I've yet to try it...

This is a very "happy" AU, Johnny is a bit different. Still an asshole, but probably a lot softer than in game. It's christmas, I'm allowed!

This one contains unsanitary practices in the kitchen to go with it's E-rating u.u

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

This morning, Johnny let his two apprentices take care of the croissants, so he expects the worst as he gets off his bike. Nancy insisted: “they’re here to learn from you, but also to help us, they’re done observing,” she said while making quote marks, “now it’s time they do something.”

Johnny smokes a cigarette while letting his eyes roam over the front of his shop. Wedged between two buildings — former warehouses turned into fancy green-flats for tree huggers — it looks more like a record shop than a bakery. His modest kingdom consists of a small coffee shop as a storefront, and a state of the art kitchen at the back. The cafe is decorated with a 911 Porsche suspended from the ceiling as if the car was nose diving toward the ground, and first edition records of famous bands over the walls. Old mismatched armchairs and rickety wooden tables welcome the few patrons. The usual crowd is already there, either at their preferred table, or queuing while reading their mails and scrolling down their social media feeds. Johnny observes them from a distance, parked on the other side of the street.

Once he’s done with his cigarette, he makes his way to the kitchen by the backdoor, trying to mentally prepare for the disaster he’s sure will greet him.

Instead, once he’s donned his white apron, leaving the three top buttons open because he would be dead before getting caught conforming to any rule, he finds V and Evelyn quietly unloading another tray of chocolate croissants.

Johnny doesn’t even greet them before swooping on the pastries to take one. It’s still hot from the oven, but Johnny doesn’t care: his chrome arm is useful in his field, he doesn’t need to use mitts. The croissants look the right size, right shape, they smell great. So far, so good. He glances at V, who’s placidly waiting for judgment.

Rogue sent those two. She’s the headmaster of Night City’s school of “Arts de la table”, and Johnny trusts her to send his way only the best, and most importantly, the toughest. Johnny hates the apprentices; but as Nancy keeps reminding him, they’re cheap labor so they compromised and Johnny only takes the third years, which are not totally incompetent. Although, it’s the first year they’ve held this long, nearly six months. Sometimes, Johnny even thinks about offering them a job, before shaking his head and wondering if he’s losing his touch.

The chef takes a knife, making it jump in his palm before reaffirming his grip and, swift as a snake, cuts the chocolate croissant in two perfectly equal halves. Johnny bends to observe the inside like he’s doing an autopsy. He catches Evelyn’s eye roll from the corner of his eyes, and can practically taste V’s smirk on his left.

But Johnny’s whole focus is on the croissant: inside, the laminated dough has blown out finely, giving the pastry its typical vaporous texture. It’s suspiciously well done. Now that it’s cooled down a bit, Johnny takes one half to bring it to his mouth and both apprentices can’t quite hide their apprehension.

The salted butter balances the sugar neatly, then the chocolate hits his taste buds and gives the pastry a rich taste. The whole thing is luxurious in his mouth, like biting on a cloud, and the dough melts on his tongue like it should, leaving behind the after taste of the dark cocoa and a hint of sweetness.

It’s perfect.

“Not bad,” Johnny says.

He sees their shoulders drop in relief and a hint of disappointment for the lackluster compliment when they probably worked really hard to impress him, but they chose this world, it’s a ruthless one and Johnny won’t spare them. They will thank him later, he tells himself, turning away to observe the rest of his kingdom.

“Alright,” he finally declares when he can’t find anything to criticize, “this weekend, you have free reins over the pastry of the day. Evie, you get Saturday, V you get Sunday. Let the customers be the judges.”

Sunday, V’s trompe-l’oeil artichokes are a huge success. The center is an egg shaped yuzu/citrus cheesecake with a nuts and caramel craquelin as the base. Saturday, he made about a hundred basil flavored chocolate petals in preparation for the morrow. It took him nearly the entire day to make them, and then piece the artichokes together so they were ready at opening sunday. He made twenty one pieces, all of them brought before noon, about as fast as Evelyn’s electric blue and violet mini cakes the day before. They’d all been topped by a vulva of a different shape and color. Johnny had found it a bit too much “woke” for his taste, but they’d been marvelous, and he had liked the details she’d put on each of them. Contrary to V, she had chosen simplicity and quantity over complexity, so she’d made about fifty different vulvas, still a feat, even Johnny could admit it.

Around four, they are cleaning up the kitchen while Judy sells their last items. Nancy is off today, which is why Johnny loves weekends so much. The manager still reblogged, retweeted and shared all the photos customers posted of the two young chef’s creations, but at least she’d been off Johnny’s back.

Johnny is about to launch the dishwasher when a voice makes his ears perk up.

“Hi Judy,” the newcomer greets with a warm and deep voice.

Next to to the chef, V also straightens and Johnny smirks. The kid is apparently a fan, and loses all composure around Kerry Eurodyne, superstar extraordinaire, and Johnny’s best friend. V looks down at his apron, covered in various shades of chocolate and green coloring, then gives Johnny a deer in headlights look that only makes the chef bark a laugh.

“Go, I’ll stall him.”

He doesn't need to say it twice, the kid disappears in the backroom, probably to change.

A few seconds later, Kerry enters the kitchen, still looking back at Judy and waving at her with a laugh. He’s dressed in casual wear: jeans, a dark tee-shirt with a band name on it (not his, thank god for small mercies), and his usual leather jacket. His glasses are tucked in the V of his neck, clinking against the many gold chains he’s wearing.

Johnny crosses his arms and leans against a counter.

“Hey,” he greets and his friend gives him a huge smile in answer, sliding right into his personal space. Since the moment they met, Kerry has been doing this, as if more distance between them would be unbearable. Johnny is not complaining.

“I was in the district, and suddenly craved an apple,” the musician informs the chef, who rolls his eyes.

“We’re sold out.”

“Oh maaaan… Really? C’mon? For me?” And he literally bats his eyelashes, forcing Johnny to fight down an ironic smile. He shouldn’t encourage him.

The infamous apple that Kerry is supposedly craving is Johnny’s best-known creation: a trompe l’oeil cake looking just like the forbidden fruit, filled with, quote “the best apple pie man has ever created, one God would probably indeed try to keep for themself”.

“What’s this?” Kerry suddenly exclaims, stopped in the middle of his inspection of the kitchen by the sight of the last artichoke V made.

“I know you’re mostly eating at restaurants now you’re a star, but I hope even you can recognise what it is,” Johnny replies with a mischievous tone.

“I can see it’s an artichoke, but excuse my surprise ‘cause I don’t generally find them in your kitchen.”

Kerry is about to touch the pastry when Johnny’s chrome arm closes around his wrist.

“V made it. That one is for his girlfriend.”

“Oh, the biker gal?”

“Panam, yeah.”

The fact Kerry knows his apprentice’s name is probably a clue on how much time he spends haunting Johnny’s bakery.

“Looks good… Oh, I saw the Vulva cakes on instagram, too!”

Johnny grunts, making Kerry snort.

“What, worried the padawans surpassed the master?”

“They have much to learn, yet,” Johnny declares, dignified. Mirth shines in Kerry’s eyes, but before he can open his mouth, V comes back, changed and cleaned up.

“Hi Mister Eurodyne,”

“Hey V, I told you not to call me that. I’m Kerry, ok?”

“Sure, yeah, hm, good day?”

Johnny bites his tongue hard not to laugh, and he can see the shadow of embarrassment on V’s face but Kerry, bless his friendly soul, takes it in stride.

“Yes, thank you, I finished recording what might be the next single!”

V’s eyes sparkle like stars as they widen in wonder.

“That’s great, means I can listen to it soon!”

“Meh, don’t expect it that soon, it’s gonna be released as part of the album’s promo. Few more months… But if you graduate with flying colors, I might let you listen to the demo.”

V is speechless, cheeks coloring, mouth open in wonder.

“Please don’t kill the kid, Ker,” Johnny intervenes, pushing the young chef softly toward the door. “C’mon, go home, don’t forget your artichoke.”

Once V is gone, Johnny finds Kerry munching on the leftover of the artichokes’ leaves, the ones that weren’t pretty enough to make it on the cakes.

“You’re cute with the kid, all protective and shit, looking after him, bit like a da —”

“Don’t,” Johnny says right in his face, “or you won’t get your fuckin apple”

Kerry raises his hands in surrender and gives him an innocent look.

The next hour is spent with Kerry retelling juicy gossip from the music world, steeling Johnny’s resolve that leaving it was his best call. Chromerock only made him angrier. After his stunt in prison, where he discovered baking, he decided to change path. Baking focuses his mind and clears his emotions like few things do. He secretly loves hearing gossip, though, and pips in once or twice to keep Kerry going. The man tries to taste everything, putting his dirty fingers in Johnny’s preparations to the man’s rising exasperation.

Johnny puts a stop to it when Kerry tries to plunge his index into the chocolate that will serve as the cast between the filling and the outside of the apple.

“Fuck, you’re hungry today!” Johnny barks, holding the thieving hand in his chrome fist.

Kerry becomes fluid suddenly, spreading his legs where he’s seated on the counter with a lascivious attitude.

“Hungry for you,” he replies while his pupils turn dark and smoldering. Johnny slit his eyes, trying to judge if this is a distraction technique or a real invitation. “Chocolate always tastes better on your skin,” Kerry adds with a flick of his tongue over his bottom lip.

Johnny’s fist relaxes a tad.

“Maybe instead of a cake I wanna eat you,” Kerry concludes, his face an inch from Johnny’s, bright eyes mesmerizing.

Long ago, Johnny tried to resist that gaze, and the alluring pleasure it promised, but his defense wall crumbled years back, when he got out of prison and Kerry was there, waiting for him, leaning against the Porsche.

It means the man has no trouble taking control of the situation: he hops off the counter, caught between the cold metal and Johnny’s warm body and lands a teasing kiss on the line of his friend’s jaw. Johnny’s chest rumble, a moan, or a groan, or a protest, who knows? It’s all for show anyway. Slowly, Kerry raises his hands to Johnny’s shoulders and pushes up on his feet to lick his upper lip, giving it a bite before, with a muffled noise, the chef decides enough is enough and kisses him for real. It’s all bite and passion from here on, both hungry for each other.

In a sly and fluid move, Kerry turns them over, pushing Johnny against the counter before turning the cooker off. The smell of chocolate is everywhere. Kerry’s hand slides down between Johnny’s legs and the man grunts and widens his stance, covering the wandering fingers with his own to make him push harder. He thrust against the warm palm, uncaring if it looks wanton. Kerry doesn’t care, he’s back to mouthing at Johnny’s neck, purring when the chef’s chrome hand slides down his back to squeeze his ass.

The musician leans back, smiles at his best friend and occasional lover, before dipping his fingers into the chocolate. It gathers him a glare.

“Now it’s all ruined,” Johnny breathes, distracted by the spectacle of Kerry licking his fingers and making it a lewd show.

“Aww, what a shame, we should make good use of your hard work,” he whispers against the chef’s lips, squeezing his hardening dick tighter.

The next kiss tastes like rich cocoa, and Johnny lets a whimper escape because it’s absolutely decadent when served on Kerry’s tongue.

Johnny grips his friend’s hair in his chrome fist, forcing his head back and holding him still as he plunges his fingers in the pot, before bringing them to Kerry’s lips, smearing the thick liquid on his mouth. The man lets him do it placidly, eyes still shining with mischief and desire.

Their kiss is hot and messy, and they’re rutting against each other like mindless beasts now, before Kerry shudders and takes a step back. Looking at Johnny straight in the eyes, he unbuttons the apron, and then attacks his pants before pushing them under Johnny’s ass. He bites his lips as he looks at the hard length it uncovers and Johnny wants to laugh. He doesn’t get the opportunity because Kerry scoops more chocolate on his hand and then falls on his knees. He smears the creamy preparation over Johnny’s cock, who hisses and curses because of the warmth, jerking forward uncontrollably.

With a laugh, Kerry opens his mouth and starts licking him. Chocolate drips everywhere around his mouth, on his chin, down to his neck and Johnny grips his hair again, thrusting slightly. He can’t help it, the smell, the warmth, the feeling… Kerry’s mouth is so perfectly wet and welcoming, and he just loves seeing his friend on his knees for him, here in his fucking kingdom.

It’s over too soon, Johnny tries to keep Kerry where he is for a minute longer but the man pushes against him. Saliva drips from his tongue to Johnny’s dick, still smeared by chocolate. The musician smiles, licks his lips, kisses the tip of the still hard dick and rises fluidly. As Johnny gasps and tries to regroup, Kerry ditches his pants and then bends over the counter, reaching for the coconut oil Johnny used in the preparation earlier.

“C’mon, do me. I want your chocolate cock inside of me. Make a cream pie out of my hole and everything.”

Johnny grits his teeth, pushing back against the hazing heat inside his mind and slaps Kerry’s cheeks, hard, open palmed across booth muscles and delights in the yelp he receives. He doesn’t waste time, coats his dick in oil, uses the rest to push two fingers inside his friend, who groans. And then he’s sliding in, slowly, bit by bit, half to tease, half because Kerry is so fucking tight.

“You need to relax.”

“I fucking can’t, shit I’m… I like it when you take me like this.”

Like this is bent over the counter, legs spread wide, Johnny’s chrome hand pushing between his shoulder blades to keep him immobile. Kerry loves doing this in the kitchen: he takes pleasure in defiling the sanctity of the place.

In the end, Kerry focus and relax for a minute, just enough to let Johnny in completely, just enough to let him fuck him with fast thrusts followed by long drags out. He’s drooling on the inox counter, cursing and keening with each plunge, sweaty hands leaving prints on the smooth metal of the workspace. His ass pulls taught around Johnny, and he’s just taking it submissively, which drives the chef mad. Johnny speeds up and loses coordination, blinded by the need to claim him once more, to fill him and make even more of a mess out of him.

Johnny grips Kerry’s hair to wrench his head backward, forcing him to arch, and fucks him in earnest now. The man encourages him, knowing full well he’s close. Johnny comes biting his lips, trying not to make any noise but it’s fruitless because the pleasure is too great and he lets out a curse like he’s been shot.

His hips slow down, his thighs twitch everytime Kerry clench around him, earning a light slap on his asscheek. The musician gives him thirty seconds to enjoy the glow before he’s shifting impatiently. With a huff, Johnny pulls out and hoists him on all four on the counter. Kerry whines and spreads his legs needily, arching his back with his head and chest low, ass in the air.

Johnny parts his cheeks, pushes his chrome thumb against his opening, watches his cum trickle with satisfaction. He teases Kerry a few seconds more before the man reaches for his own cock. Johnny lets him, instead bending to eat him out, licking chocolate, coconut oil and cum out of him. Cream pie indeed, Johnny’s best creation maybe.

Kerry is practically crying, trembling all over, begging Johnny not to stop while he strokes himself hard and fast. Leaning back for a breath, Johnny slaps his ass again, teases his hole with two, three fingers, pushes in and out just to hear Kerry whine, before he goes back to it. His grip over Kerry’s thighs will leave bruises, just how the man likes it.

It takes a minute more but Kerry is now holding still, hand tight around his cock, shaking and clenching around Johnny’s tongue.

“Fuck,” he breathes out before air seems to freeze in his lungs. Johnny doesn’t stop, helps him through the climax, and goes on even when Kerrys sags on the workbench. He enjoys listening to the worldwide star keening and twitching every time his tongue swipes over his taint, until Kerry twists to push his head away.

Only their panting breaths can be heard for a while, until Kerry rolls on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the counter.

“Hmmm,” he sighs lasciviously while Johnny is fastening his pants again. “I’m still craving that apple, though.”

The chef rolls his eyes.

“It’s late. C’mon, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Kerry gives him another forlorn sigh.

“The Dark Matter?”

Of course he would choose the best and most expensive restaurant.

“Sure,” Johnny still says, there is always a table for Kerry there, like everywhere else. “Let me change.”

Johnny looks over at the mess they made of his kitchen for a few seconds before shrugging.

Let the kids take care of that tomorrow.

#johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #Johnn x Kerry #Kerry x Johnny #silverdyne #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #my writing #fic advent calendar

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

“He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."

#geraskier #geraskier fluff #a very bouncey halloween #geraskier first kiss #geraskier and buffy #btvs au #geraskier fluff and silliness #curses #cursed geralt #nobleman geralt #yennefer was there #bamf jaskier #competent jaskier

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

The tit for tat game was well known to both of their top confidants and lieutenants because it had been going on ever since Natsu and Lucy broke up. Plus, it was hard to get around such knowledge considering most of them came from the same neighborhoods. These intrigues ebbed and flowed like waves. Months could pass by without any interactions between the two, at other times they’d go back and forth continuously until one of them finally gave up, and on the odd occasion ended in a huge fight that led to another round of ignoring each other. Up until now, it had been kind of amusing to watch them torture each other because it was better than a drama shows on television. But that didn’t mean Natsu, and Lucy’s friends didn’t worry about one or both being truly hurt one day because of it.

“It’s fine,” Natsu rolled his eyes as Gray chastised him after the soapland incident. The two men were at Natsu’s home after work hours and supposed to be relaxing. But clearly his friend didn’t want to drop the subject. “What’s the big deal?”

“Dude, you let yourself be blindfolded in a public space! Have you forgotten what kind of business we’re in? What if it had been an assassin instead?”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous. We’re talking about Lucy’s company, and I trust their security measures because she has just as much to lose if a hit took place there.”

“Still, you should be more careful, at least take a bodyguard with you…”

Natsu’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “And what, so they can watch the show? We got any voyeurs on the payroll? Cause I can’t think of anyone here who’d wanna see another guy getting his balls fondled!”

Gray ran a hand down his face. “So not the mental image I wanted. You’re missing the point.” He sighed. “Natsu you are the head of this clan, and your safety is my top priority.”

“I get it, I get it,” Natsu drawled.

“And frankly,” Gray continued, “you’ve become distracted by her lately.”

“Tch! No, I haven’t!”

“Yeah, you are. You think I haven’t noticed? I know you drive by her place sometimes. I know you’ve followed her to that coffee shop she likes to frequent. But ever since her employee was robbed, things have escalated again.”

“You’re imagining things and apparently spying on me. I’m just keeping an eye on the competition.”

“Watching over you is my job! That’s not spying.” Gray crossed his arms. “And oh, it’s no doubt that you’re keeping an eye on her. That’s why you went to Katsunuma’s party and to soapland too. The problem is you’re getting sloppy and sloppy gets people killed.”

Natsu groaned. “Are you done yet? We’re supposed to be enjoying the baseball game, not psychoanalyzing my life.”

“Almost.” Gray placed a hand on his friends’ knee and leaned in. “Natsu, you’ve been chasing that tail since high school, just lock her down and convince her to work together already.”

Natsu snorted a laugh. “Gray we all grew up together, so what in all these years makes you think that’s a possibility? You know damn well Lucy’s not a woman you can control without her consent.” Natsu knew that, and frankly he loved that part of her. In fact, it made him even more fired up whenever he thought about it, just like a treasure you don’t just find but must win at the end of a game. “I’ll find a way, some day.”

“Well until that day arrives, could you promise me you’ll be more cautious?”

“Fine, fine,” Natsu waved his hand. “I’ll back off of Lucy for now.”

“Good.” Gray relaxed back onto his recliner thinking the drama was over.

“However, there is a new guy I want surveillance placed on.”

“Who?”

“The bartender from the party.”

Gray groaned. “Seriously? Why? He’s just a bartender!”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Was he spiking the drinks or something? Dealing drugs at the party?”

“Maybe.”

Gray huffed. “You really gonna try that? Do I look like an idiot? This is just straight jealousy talking.”

“I don’t care! I want someone to dig up what they can on the guy!”

“No, what you wanna know is if he fucked Lucy that night!”

Natsu jumped up with his fists clenched. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!” Gray stood up and matched his boss’s energy. “Unless you give me a damn good reason to check into him, I’m not wasting my guy’s time! You might be the boss, but don’t you fucking forget who you’re talking to! I’m not some punk off the streets!”

Realizing he was taking things too far, Natsu sat back down. “Sorry.”

Gray sighed and plopped back down too. “I only joined because you asked me to and you’re my best friend, then I helped you build this new empire, so I’m just as invested in protecting it as you are. But Natsu, personal emotions have led to the downfall of many in this business, and as a friend, I’ll check you any time I think you’re going to far.”

“You’re right…” Natsu sighed too. “She just gets me so worked up.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gray laughed, but stopped when Natsu glared at him. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

“But I swear, there’s something suspicious about him. When he saw me, I thought he just reacted because he thought I was Lucy’s boyfriend or something, but the more I think about it, he might have recognized me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious either.”

“True. But the look in his eyes just made me wonder.”

“Alright…” Gray groaned, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have someone do some digging. So, you said he has orange hair and glasses, and the name on his tag was Loke?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s an unusual name, shouldn’t be too hard to check on.”

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Gray sent out feelers for any information on this Loke guy. Katsunuma junior gave them their first small lead that the bartender had worked the party through a local food catering company. That catering company was a legitimate business who had both full-time staff as well as independent contractors brought in per event as needed. Loke had been one of the latter. From there Gray obtained a last name, de Lioncourt.

According to his sources at the local precinct, Loke de Lioncourt had no rap sheet, no prior dealings with police, and for all they knew was an average citizen. The man’s Line blog profile listed him as a 28-year-old, Japanese/French American, model and bartender, and it was filled with pictures from events, parties, as well as many gorgeous women— none of which contained Lucy. But as Gray trolled through the man’s feed, he did come across one person he recognized and passed the information along to Natsu.

“Wow, she’s in a bunch of photos,” Natsu mumbled as he scrolled through the blog.

“Well, considering Cana’s reputation are you surprised. Parties and alcohol are the two things that woman lives for.” Gray laughed. “Now see, this makes sense to me. Lucy and him, not so much.”

“Tch… still pisses me off he even tried.”

“Lucy’s a free woman, she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“We’ll see about that,” Natsu mumbled low.

“What was that?” Gray asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing.”

“Better be nothing, cause this is a dead end. He’s just a flirty bartender. It’s how they make tips.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Natsu sat back in his chair. “So, back to business. What this I heard about some missing stock?”

“Oh, right. One of the warehouse clerks noticed a shortage, but when I checked with Yura, he said the books were fine. I had him show it to me, and it appears the numbers were just inverted by accident. So, instead of 185 kilos, it’s supposed to be 158 kilos.”

“Did you talk to the clerk again? Does he have any history of messing up like this?”

“Nah, he’s one of our better clerks.”

“Just keep an eye on it.”

“Sure thing, boss. By the way, have you seen Gajeel today?” Gray questioned. “I haven’t seen him.”

“He called me this morning said he wasn’t feeling well, thinks he ate something bad for dinner last night.”

“Tch, seriously? Thought he had an iron stomach?”

Natsu shrugged. “Must’a been some bad sushi or something. We ain’t got much happening today, so it’s fine. Anything else? I got some stuff I need to finish.”

Gray tapped his chin. “Just a reminder you have an appointment with our tech guy dropping by later this week to go over some upgrades on the system.”

“Like I’m supposed to know anything about that stuff, it’s what I pay him for.”

“You still gotta approve it,” Gray shrugged and took his leave.

Once the man was completely out of the office, Natsu opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a nondescript box he’d hidden inside. He grinned to himself. It was time to make another special delivery. Even though he’d told Gray he was backing off the whole Lucy and Loke subject, there was no way he was gonna let it slide. Natsu didn’t care if the man seemed legit, and he wasn’t the first nor would probably be the last that he’d eventually scared away. And besides, being a Yakuza boss had a lot of down times too, easily filled with having a little fun.

Today’s little care package was being sent to Lucy by a courier service and Natsu just had to drop it off to the delivery company. Just a normal company like Kuroneko Yamato so it wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. It was turning into a fun game for him just coming up with ideas of what he could do to rile Lucy up or irritate this Loke guy. Natsu chuckled to himself. So far, his favorite prank was a box of small sized condoms and a bottle of enhancement pills that he’d had delivered to Loke while on the job at another party. He’d even snuck in to watch it delivered, gaining a good laugh when the man took a peek in the box and frowned at its contents.

It was childish, but Natsu didn’t care. Every day for two weeks now, something new was sent to Loke. Random gifts like children’s candy to a toy gun, a big bottle of lubricant wrapped in a bow, a week’s worth of meals sent for lunch one day, even an empty box with rocks inside it just to drive the man crazy wondering who in the world was sending them. Lucy too wasn’t immune to his pranks, though hers had a different feel to them. Flowers with no note attached. Tickets to a canceled show he made up. A supposed dinner invite from Loke that wasn’t real— okay that was to test her, but she didn’t fall for it. And today’s little care package fit right into his prank scheme.

Natsu dropped off the package at a Kuroneko Yamato office with the address instructions already filled out and paid the company’s employee extra to keep their mouths shut. ‘She’s gonna kill me one day,’ he laughed to himself as he rode back to his office. ‘If it’s suffocation by her boobs it wouldn’t be a bad way to go!’

“Anymore stops sir?” The driver asked Natsu.

“Nope. Back to the office.”

He looked at his watch. The package should be arriving at Lucy’s office within the hour. Give or take another to open it, and by 4pm he would be receiving another phone call. Maybe he won’t answer it. Oh, that would piss her off even more! ‘Well, if she’d just take the hint...’

The afternoon was supposed to be mellow at headquarters that day. No shipments, and no appointments. But when Natsu got back, another general in the organization named Jellal Fernandez came to his office to inform him of a problem. One of the new local restaurants in their territory was refusing to cooperate and he wanted to know how Natsu wanted it handled. They were right in the middle of discussing it, when Natsu’s office door flew open with a loud bang!

In stomped Lucy who immediately threw a box at his head, causing Natsu to duck and Jellal to pull his gun.

“Don’t!” Natsu screamed at his general and motioned for him to stand down, to which the man complied. “Do you have a death wish Lucy!”

“Get. Out.” She snapped at the general. “Get out! This is between me and your boss!”

Jellal looked to Natsu, who nodded his head to scram. “I got this, don’t worry.” The man holstered his gun and left, but Natsu could see he’d stayed right outside of the now closed door.

“I take it you didn’t like the gift,” Natsu pretended to stay calm.

“Gee, me throwing it at you give you that impression? I know it’s you sending all these damn deliveries to me and Loke. That needs to stop now!”

He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Play dumb all you want. Just stop! Why are you even doing this?!”

“Take a guess,” he sneered back.

“I could’ve sworn we were adults now, but apparently I’m the only one who grew up. Stay out of my love life Natsu!”

“So, you admit you’re sleeping with the guy!”

“That’s none of your damn business! I can fuck whoever I want!”

“Not as long as I’m alive,” Natsu growled back.

Lucy crossed her arms. “That could be arranged.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“Yes! If you don’t stay out of my love life!”

“A woman shouldn’t be sleepi—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence!” Lucy grabbed a stapler that was within reach and chucked it at Natsu’s head. “Stop trying to control me!”

“Are you crazy?!”

At that moment, Gray barged into the room. He’d heard the screaming from the other side of the office, and when he got close enough to see Jellal standing outside the door, he became alarmed. Why would a general leave Natsu vulnerable! The man told him their boss told him to leave, but as the sounds inside escalated, Gray couldn’t wait anymore.

“Stop it!!” Gray got between them. “What are you two doing! Lucy you shouldn’t be here!”

“Then tell your damn boss to leave me the fuck alone!” Lucy spat back. “Ask him how he’s been harassing Loke and me!”

Gray turned to his boss with a groan. “Natsu, we talked about this!”

“Tell Gray what you been doing!” Lucy pressed. “Show him the stupid packages you send!”

“What packages?” Gray looked to Lucy, then repeated the question as he stared at his boss. “What packages?”

“Tch,” Natsu crossed his arms, “it’s not even that bad.”

Lucy stomped over to where the box fell and picked it up, pulling the contents out. “Bullshit!” She snapped as she held up a very racy, red nightie with flame prints, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, and a large dildo. “See this shit?!” Lucy shook the floppy latex toy at Gray before chucking it to the ground again. “He includes messages too,” then handed the man a folded piece of paper.

Gray read it aloud, “to make up for what playboy lacks. Had it custom made to my size wink wink. Ugh, seriously man,” he tossed the letter.

Natsu shrugged. “I was just having fun.”

“This is the yakuza, not a daycare!” Gray snaps. “I’m not here to babysit the boss so he stops harassing the competition! There’s more important business to worry about!”

“That’s right listen to Gray,” Lucy sneered.

Gray turned to her. “Oh, you ain’t innocent either, so don’t even try it. You both do things to purposely rile the other up and get mad when there’s consequences. Stop it!” He looked back and forth between the two. “Just stop it already!”

Natsu and Lucy looked away from the man with scowls on their faces. Neither wanted to admit he was right.

“Jellal,” Gray called out. When the man entered, he instructed him to escort Lucy out of there. “Next time, just call me instead. It’s best you two just stay away from each other. Got it?!”

“Yeah,” Lucy grumped.

“Got it?!” Gray questioned his boss.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled.

“Fucking like high school,” Gray ran a hand down his face in irritation. “You two need therapy.”

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #ch 6 #we'll take back heaven #petri808

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collectivefandomstuff · 4 years

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Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

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retvenkos · 3 years

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“shall i capture your heart with a song?”

A/N: lol, i only know the witcher on netflix, and what i have found out about jaskier via tumblr osmosis, so how accurate is this? i guess we’ll have to see, lol.

requested HERE WE ARE, IMAGINING WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO BE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TO EVENTUAL MARRIAGE WITH THE ONLY AND ONLY JASKIER....

well, seeing as jaskier is of noble birth, i’m going to say that you are, too.

your families are old friends, so when you guys first meet, (i want to say you’re like 8 or 9) it’s at some celebration or another and at first you’re a little unsure if you should talk to each other or just,,,, stand there.

one of your parents absent mindedly tells you to talk to the boy, and so you have to do the awkward introductions.

“i’m (y/n) (l/n)”

“i’m julian alfred pankratz.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

“hey!”

“don’t worry. i’ll find something better to call you.”

“yeah, well... i’ll find something better to call you.”

(sorry, guys,,,,, i still can’t get over jaskier’s real name)

the two of you decide to sneak away from your parents to get some food or something, and then you eventually decide to sneak away from the party entirely

it was jaskier’s idea, really. he was trying to avoid some family or something - the family that thinks they are oh so better than you and compare achievements and what not...

the two of you are just wandering (jaskier’s sense of direction is horrible so it’s really up to you to keep everything straight) and you end up in some field or another, talking about whatever comes to mind. jaskier is telling you stories and you scoff.

“you’re like a weed, julian alfred pankratz. like a.... dandelion.”

“i am not!”

“what flower would you want to be, then?”

“something better than a dandelion!”

“like what, a buttercup?”

“yOU are.... are like....”

“like what?”

“...aconite! that’s a poison.”

“aconites are related to buttercups, dandelion. you can’t get rid of me.”

and jaskier thinks it’s wildly funny that you know horticulture, of all things. he finds it so funny, in fact, he fails to miss that you’ve coined a new nickname for him.

it seems that all the time, afterward, you run into jaskier and his family. by virtue of constantly seeing each other, the two of you end up being really good friends.

it’s a running gag that you love horticulture, and since the illustrious julian alfred pankratz uses it against you at every turn, you fluctuate between calling him “jaskier” and “dandelion”. he eventually gets used to it, but he hates it when others start to catch on.

he also comes up with ridiculous nicknames for you, but none of them quite seem to stick. he’s constantly cycling through through new ones, hoping to find the right one.

the two of you hang out a lot, but since you do a lot of reading or gardening and need jaskier to stop chatting with you for five minutes he picks up the lute and learns to play it really well.

you’re the first one who tells him his singing voice is quite beautiful.

“i’m sorry, did you just say my singing voice is ‘quite beautiful’?”

“it’s nice, okay?”

“nice?”

“if you keep this up, i’ll just have to insult you.”

“you’d never.”

“do you not remember the first time we met?”

“like it was yesterday.”

“i laid down some pretty decent insults, if i remember right.”

“i called you poison.”

“yeah, but aconites are pretty. unlike dandelions.”

and jaskier scoffs. “and buttercups?”

“they’re not bad looking.”

so we all know that jaskier supposedly gets into poetry when he’s 19 because he’s inspired by his love for the countess de stael,,, bUT,,,, consider this instead:

he actually gets into poetry for you.

jaskier has had a few loves at this point, and with each one, he’s a nervous wreck. you always help him by curating the most beautiful bouquets (all of which come from your amazing, thriving garden) and you are always there to help him with his flirting (which needs serious help,,,, i’m not even sure you’re cut out for the job)

you guys have probably even kissed before - both of you were regrettably drunk (don’t tell your parents) and jaskier said he desperately needed ‘the practice’. plus, he wanted to know!!!! was he a good kisser or not? no one else would rate him on a scale from 1-10 with brutal but accurate honesty! neither of you fully remember what exactly happened, come morning, but you remember the lead up to the moment and jaskier remembers the thoughts running through his head afterward... both of you agree not to speak of it.

anyway, when jaskier starts to realize that he has these awkward feelings that seem suspiciously illicit, he knows he has to get them out, somehow, but you are the only one who would listen to his complaints, and he very well can’t tell you.

so he decides he has to write them down.

but clearly they can’t be literal, lest someone stumble upon them,,,,, so he has to learn the secret art of poetry.

you, of course, notice how oddly quiet hanging out with jaskier has become, and his odd questions on flower symbolism, and it doesn’t take you long until you realize that, of all things, jaskier has turned to poetry.

“you can’t make fun of me for liking horticulture, anymore, dandelion. you’re a p o e t .”

“at least i’m a good one.”

and you flick his forehead

“what will your stage name be? surely julian alfred pankratz won’t work.”

“which one should it be? jaskier or dandelion?”

and you laugh, the sound like a summer breeze.

“i knew you’d come to appreciate my nicknames, eventually.”

jaskier frequently “serenades” you, under the guise that he’s practicing, of course, but it’s also his not so subtle way of seeing if you like his poetry and his songs - they are for you, after all.

“you’ll certainly capture hearts with that one.”

“did i capture yours?”

and you, feeling very flustered, especially seeing as you’ve had feelings for jaskier for a while now, can only let out a guttural sort of scoff.

“of course,” and you try to say it over the top and jokingly, but you can feel your face heating up.

and jaskier winks. you huff and turn back to your books.

oh, yikes, i didn’t realize this was getting a little long,,,, let’s speed things up.

everyone knows that you and jaskier are end game. your families think it’s vvv sweet, and everyone that either you or jaskier attempt to woo know it’s only going to be a passing fancy because,,,, have you seen the way you look at each other? like you hang the moon and the stars?

but of course, both of you are dramatic as hell, so you frequently have conversations like:

“we’re piss poor in love, aren’t we?”

“i guess the world just doesn’t understand our genius.”

“terrible that i have to share this lonely cleverness with the likes of you.”

“absolutely devastating.”

and you just sit there for a while, staring at the ceiling.

maybe you guys do some traveling together for a while, but you eventually find a place to put down roots (lol, horticulture jokes). maybe you run an apothecary! that would be precious.

either way, jaskier is a bard so when he isn’t traveling around, he’s staying with you.

a frequent request of yours goes something like this:

“dandelion, play me a song.”

“what kind?”

“a love song.”

and he does, and afterward, he sits down across from you and winks.

“did i capture your heart with that one?”

and some nights you’re a little too tired to make a show of it and some of that blissful candor slips out and slaps jaskier across the face when you smile and say, “yes.”

if you haven’t noticed, the two of you hella dance around your feelings. it’s insane, because catchphrase is: “anything for you” meanwhile you are the most soft™ for him and yet you don’t seem to clue in.

100%, you are going to have to be the one that expresses your love first, because jaskier is the definition of suffering in silence

but what’s also really funny is you both probably try to keep it hidden just how long you have loved each other for, and yet you are both nosy as hell and want to know how long this has been going on, so it leads to really funny conversations where you are both trying to dodge giving a proper timeline, but are drying to coax one out of the other.

ohmygod, i forgot to do marriage headcanons

alright, lightning round: firstly, i don’t think it takes you guys long to get married - you have known each other for so long, and you already act like a married couple, might as well make it official

jaskier refuses to let anyone else sing at his wedding, but you eventually coax him into it because how else are you going to dance with him?

let jaskier invite all of his witcher friends. the divide between your wealthy families and the witchers would be funny as hell. like inlaws that don’t get along but wORSE.

some quick marriage thoughts:

jaskier has definitely learned the art of flowers, thanks to you, so (1) he leaves you flowers everywhere, and (2) both of you get to garden with each other all the time.

sleep and jaskier don’t mix - no matter what time of the night, you can wake up and he’s up and about, doing something or another. maybe he’s writing a song, maybe he’s eating, maybe he’s arguing with yennefer (she often visits, just to antagonize jaskier. you guys are great friends) in the livingroom and trying to keep his voice down

similar with nicknames, jaskier is constantly using pet names, trying to decide on which one is best. it doesn’t really work out, but maybe the most common one is he’ll call you his muse.

and it only sounds cheesy 20% of the time

you guys get to go to parties together! that’s fun - you like dressing up and sneaking away half way through because you’re bored. you guys steal food and hide out until they realize the bard is missing and drag him back.

so we all know jaskier is big on compliments, and it only gets worse when the two of you are together. it’s like,,,, yes. now i can shower you with love and affection at all hours of the day, and it’s okay! he still does his poorly timed winks but he insists they’re charming!

you begrudgingly agree

consider for a moment: going to get breakfast with this man. first of all, breakfast is probably his favorite meal, and he’s always adamant you get a good one (since being with geralt means no breakfast at all). jaskier talks like you haven’t seen him in years, despite living together, and he’s very big on holding your hand or bopping you on the nose. plus, he smiles.

oh! and his singing is 100% contagious, so it doesn’t take long before you are singing around the house, and jaskier is just stunned at you,,,, you find him staring and roll your eyes at his ridiculousness, but this man is in love!!!! let him be in love!!!!

and you also talk to your plants, so you know jaskier picks that up, to. you’re a very vocal couple, lol.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @multifandomfix // message me if you want to be added!

#jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier headcanons #jaskier witcher #jaskier x you #jaskier imagine #reader insert #gender neutral reader #tw marriage #fluff #the witcher

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thelovelyghostwriter · 3 years

Note

do you think kuraneon is gonna be canon in the official hxh universe and what must have happened?

Whether or not they would be canon is up to Sir Togashi himself. While he does have romantic elements in his previous works like Yu Yu Hakusho and Ten de Showaru Cupid, it's not as explicit in HxH (e.g. Meruem/Komugi).

If you asked me this before knowing about the KuraNeon Marriage Theory (will give a link in the reblog later on) and KuraNeon paired up in mobile games, I would have said "0% chance" because we do not see them interact on-screen (even if I had shipped them since I first laid my eyes on Neon).

However, it is kinda sus that Kurapika became a Nostrade Family Young Boss; with Light and Neon nowhere shown. The more "accepted" theory is that Light is unable to continue and Neon is dead (although I do have rebuttals about Neon being dead - that's another conversation). I do wonder why he had to keep their mafia family name - there is no reason to if he truly let them wither. But from Light's last appearance in a manga panel, Kurapika did reassure him that he'll handle everything and you see the Nostrade mafia family organisation doing well under Kurapika. Which is also why my friend went to bring up that plausible KuraNeon Marriage Theory.

I know that a lot of people think they don’t interact, but that is on-screen. After York New City arc, we don’t see Kurapika until way later, however him being in charge as the Nostrade Boss indicates that he stayed with the Nostrades. God knows what they did while living under one roof.

Another thing that is major sus is the mobile games. Even non-shippers are baffled why KuraNeon is a thing. Kurapika and Neon are seen dressed as Hikoboshi and Orihime in two sets of the mobage cards; a romantic couple that is known in a Japanese legend and celebrated on 7 July (Tanabata Festival). They are even shown writing on coloured papers in one of the cards + Kurapika holding a bamboo - these coloured papers are used during the Tanabata festival where wishes are written on them and hung on bamboo. It is believed that the reunion between the two lovers Hikoboshi and Orihime are so joyous that they grant the wishes of the people. As far as I know, the only pairing that gets to have a Orihime/Hikoboshi theme in their cards is Machi/Hisoka; and we do see Hisoka/Machi having a soft spot for one another in canon (in the current arc, Machi does patch him up after his defeat and Hisoka spared her).

Hmmm.. I should make a post about this whole Tanabata thing actually. Asides from that, they are also the v-day banner in 2019 for the games and she gave him a cake during the valentine’s day event, to which showed a scene of him thinking about what to give her back (and low and behold, Kurapika’s White’s Day card featured him with a gift and him wearing the same outfit of the scene where he thought about what to give her).

In a separate mobile game, they have a special attack together. Their mobage cards have identical backgrounds and themes. Therefore, it isn’t just one mobile game that does this. It makes me wonder why the official team devs do that when this pairing shipping sub-fandom is really small and many even dislike it.

Even as a shipper, it also baffles me why devs do that when they have little screentime together (gotta be more objective here). If you do consider the KuraNeon Marriage Theory or consider that they might end up together in the manga, it makes sense why the official hxh game devs pair them together. And I am unsure about the source - but I think for Japanese manga production of non-manga material, you need approval from the writer? All the more to be suspicious of the mobile games that contains KuraNeon above every single pairing out there.

Hence, if you ask me, there is a chance of Kurapika/Neon being canon. How that might happen is a little tricky and depending on the type of portrayal they will be (I have four interpretations of this ship on my pinned post lol).

I’m not sure if you only define canon as the vanilla/romantic type, or it also includes one that is a little twisted. I've noticed that hxh has friendship and family dynamics that are already complicated and not as wholesome as one would think. I do believe that if KuraNeon were to be canon, it would be the latter interpretation.

There are actually a few things that are needed to be considered for it to happen: 1) Neon’s fate - she needs to be alive (or maybe not) Now, a lot of people believe she died because Chrollo’s book speculates that she does. However, we don’t see her dead body. It’s literally just Chrollo’s interpretation. This is contrasted by Kurapika that states that the previous Scarlet Eye owners did not need to be killed (and the “daughter of a mafia leader” is one of them). If the daughter of a mafia leader is truly Neon, then it brings a question of who should you believe more: Chrollo or Kurapika? (Imo it’s super interesting how these two guys who are enemies have different narratives on the same girl).

Of course, there was this potential discrepancy I found while re-watching this arc. The Scarlet Eyes that Kurapika bidded for 2.9 billion was a fake. They thought it was stolen when Squala took it with him and died - but it was actually that Kortopi’s Gallery Fake copy disappears after 24hour. So technically, the Eyes is with the Troupe. Now, assuming that Togashi has not forgotten this detail (I believe he still remembers), I do think that it is possible that since Chrollo is the type to get bored of the stuff he steals, he will just sell it and it will be obtained by the later owners. As for “the daughter of a mafia leader”, I’m sure it’s Neon that Kurapika is referring to - be it him mentioning her as merely a previous owner despite the set of Scarlet Eyes being “stolen” or she bought another set. (There is a chance that is not Neon, but another daughter of a random mafia leader, but what are the chances of another daughter being like that?)

I guess I just wanted to point this detail out because many people readily believed Chrollo’s book (it was not even himself). He stated that he did not know when it disappeared.

As for that “Hisoka killed Neon” theory, while it is believable and interesting, the only thing that is doubtful for that is that a) Hisoka could not have gone off to kill Neon in such a short period of time, b) that would be an insult to Kurapika’s capabilities if she was under his care, c) the fortune-telling ability doesn’t bother Hisoka. Pakunoda and Hisoka had a short conversation about the fortune and both of them acknowledged that the future changed. Hisoka wrote over his fortune despite having a good one to manipulate the events in hopes of fighting Chrollo - that is an indication of his belief that he writes his own future, and therefore which is why I argue that the fortune-telling ability never bothered him.

As for the “Kurapika killed Neon” theory, I think... they all need to get one thing straight about Kurapika: as much as possible, except for the spiders, he doesn’t kill (or at least dislikes to kill). He stated that none of the owners had to die even if two preferred to die. If there’s a way, he will not shed blood. Besides, Kurapika doesn’t actually hate Neon - contrary to popular belief. There wasn’t a single manga panel that indicates his hatred for her; or even annoyance. It was only the time where Mellody mentioned that he will kill her if she stands in the way, but Kurapika, as much as mentioned before, doesn’t kill if there is an alternative way.

I have yet to fully explore possible reasons why Neon’s ability disappears from Chrollo’s book if she’s still alive (my friend thinks it’s related to Kurapika’s dolphin ability). However, there are many rebuttals to the theories on how she died.

But yeah, I think for it to be canon, Neon has to be alive. Unless... they were already canon and he sailed to the Dark Continent and she died slightly before that event (tbh I rather not have this).

2) Kurapika’s fate - he needs to live

Number 2 is a condition is if they aren’t canon yet before he sails to the Dark Continent.

One thing that confuses people is that they think that just because Kurapika is under the Kakin Employment, it means that he is no longer affiliated with the Nostrades. The Kakin Employment contract is temporary - he is still affiliated with the Nostrades (and their business is bodyguarding, take note). As for him being in the Zodiac, he is still the Nostrade Family Young Boss - being part of the Zodiacs is like some political committee.

I know there are rumours (I say rumours cause I don’t see the interview script by my own eyes) that Togashi once indicated that the Phantom Troupe and Kurapika will all die. I do think that Togashi can kill one of his main characters, but there’s one thing that makes me question whether he changed his mind: Nitro Rice from the Dark Continent.

The Nitro Rice is a thing in the Dark Continent that prolongs one’s life - a direct solution to Kurapika’s Emperor Time problem. I think if he does last until they reach the Dark Continent, he has a chance to prolong his lifespan that he has lost while using Emperor Time.

Now, if he indeed gets to survive, manages to complete his mission, there’s another problem he will face: a will to live. Because currently, all he has ever lived for is bringing justice to his clan. Beyond that, what can he live for? Which kind of makes the ending for him to happily live with someone (be it his friends or having a family) a suitable one.

3) Neon’s development

Neon is seriously misunderstood among the fandom - even her personality. I’ve seen a lot of Kurapika x (other character) ships where Neon is the 3rd party in fanfics; and it is a one-sided love.

However, Neon is actually an emotionally detached person while Kurapika is the one that gets attached to people, even if he initially avoids them. Neon has what psychologists will call “Avoidant-Dismissive Attachment Style” while Kurapika has “Avoidant-Fearful Attachment Style”. This is rightfully so due to their different backgrounds. I actually believe that between the two of them, Kurapika will be the one who falls first or if this is one-sided, Kurapika is the one that likes her because of their attachment styles.

Neon has zero friends, is materialistic and lacks sympathy for dead people (the complete opposite of Kurapika). She believes in focusing on the present and the living (it’s actually a pretty good principle to live for). She needs to learn how to be more attached to people and learn compassion - which she actually is seen as being capable of. She was surprised that Eliza broke down and cried, and even forgo bidding physically. I think this is an indication of her starting to feel sympathy for people and perhaps being more mature - cemented by the fact that she lost her powers.

Therefore, I do think she needs to learn how to warm her heart up to people (which she might have already started to after the York New incident) if she were to feel something for Kurapika.

4) Kurapika’s view of her

Okay, this is one factor that is either you take it the vanilla way or the kinky way lmao. I actually wrote a Cognitive Dissonance Theory for Kurapika on my Tumblr post for this one (will try to link it in the reblog).

Kurapika’s initial belief is that flesh collectors are scums who should be arrested, yet he is surprised to see that his flesh-collecting employer is a girl of his age. I think there is already dissonance in his mind there once he met her.

Contrary to popular belief, Kurapika doesn’t hate Neon (there’s no single manga panel that ever once showed he detest her or feel annoyed with her; as compared to other employees of hers). In fact, he does quickly understand that Neon is being exploited by her father - to which he corrects Basho about the situation. In the manga, when he woke up after the fever, he says her name (in the 2011 anime, it was “Boss” but in the manga, it’s “Neon”) and immediately asks about her; which indicates that he is concerned for her. Of course, she is his employer but in that situation where he is bedridden and not working, him asking about her won’t be just due to him working as a bodyguard.

However, this doesn’t show that he has feelings for her. It only proves that a) he doesn’t hate her, b) he does care about her. He needs to see Neon as more than just a flesh collector for him to like her; on top of spending time with one another. He needs to see (if he hasn’t already) that she is a girl his age that has a different predicament than him.

This is the vanilla way I guess.

The darker and more saucy interesting interpretation would be him thinking it’s okay to objectify her just as much as she objectifies his clan’s eyes (that’s another post I gotta do for another day - but hey, this interpretation is paralleled to Tserreidnich/Theta).

5) Spending Time with one another

I think as mentioned, it is already a given that Kurapika and Neon had spent time together under one roof off-screen while we see Gon and Killua on-screen during the 3 arcs. However, I think Neon cannot suddenly become less detached and Kurapika cannot want something more than his mission at the moment; so I do think that even if they had spent time before Dark Continent Exploration arc, Neon and Kurapika needs to spend time together after he comes back (that’s if they haven’t banged before he sailed to the Dark Continent like they did in my fic lmao).

So yeah, I think these are generally the five things that I think should happen if they were to be canon.

I don’t know why I was compelled to do a long-ass post of this, but I hope this answers your question. I can go on and write a report about this but Imma stop here for now.

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years

Note

I know it takes a backseat to El's well-deserved criticism, but I greatly appreciate the love you've shown Rhea on this blog. She's one of my favorites and the fandom's treatment of her is nothing short of heartbreaking. Going into 3H mostly blind I expected her to basically be a sociopathic, overzealous Tomas de Torquemada stand-in, but she was really likable and understandable. Probably helps that I started with the Deer tho 'cause CF Rhea feels like a completely different character.

Thank you!

Ngl, when I was first playing 3H I hated Rhea because WC genuinely does a good job at making it seem like Rhea is suspicious to a first time player who likely isn't looking too deeply into the events going on. But as I was playing through more and more of the story I was like "whoa, wait, Rhea's A DRAGON?! And she's savin' the little chickadees? Oh shit she got 'NAPPED?" and so even with the narrative trying to continue to bonk me with "wait Rhea still bad" I wasn't buying it as hard anymore, I wanted to give her a chance... and then the info dump happened (since I played GD first too)!

And ngl, even for a first time player I was like "wow that's a lot to take in wish they coulda sprinkled this over a bit more naturally" BUT I DID take it in. And I really appreciated Rhea so much more now that I got to finally hear her story and got to hear what motivated her to do everything she did. I don't think she was completely in the right in her actions, but there's also... no real right answer? Like what was she supposed to do? Reveal herself as a Nabatean from the get go a thousand years ago and risk being fuckin' harvested for her parts like an abandoned car in an apocalypse by scrappers that outnumber her incalculable number-to-1 (maybe 4 if she dragged Seteth Macuil and Indech along for the ride - can't drag Flayn cuz she's too busy sleeping off death that was caused by humans!)? Actually rule over Fodlan and force the humans to progress how she wanted them to? Let humans have access to the shit that caused Ailiel to stay ass for a thousand years because of humans? Getting to know that context really opened me up to her, to the point where I can see the parallels she has with all the lords and actively wish she could build some kind of genuine rapport with all of them (yes, even Edelgard somewhat, though that'd have to be for an AU fic than actual canon. I really wanted her to bond more with Claude tho!! Dimitri's route tho could at least harbor the chance of that happening post-credits so I take solace in that lol).

And. Like. Seeing the fandom's reaction to her? Bruh. You have no idea how fucking disappointed I was. Like, I plan on making a post on how my experience with the 3H's fandom eerily mirrors my experience with the Bleach fandom (in all the worse ways), but a part of that is how fucking slammed a character I happen to personally like gets by their respective media. And like?? You hear the ass-backwards arguments from people that don't like them and your head fucking spins because my guy my buddy my good pal o' mine what in the fuck are you actually saying. Shit that never happened, shit the character grows out of, shit other characters are just as guilty of doing but are beloved by the fanbase, all to come together to form a hate mob for a character that exists almost exclusively on shit that either doesn't apply to the character (whether ever or by the end of their development) or should apply to others, that makes the fans of said hated character genuinely uncomfortable with coming out and saying they like that character? Yeah, no, the exact same shit. Like. Literally. Even down to the ableism! The victim-blaming! The excusing of a perpetrator's - who happens to be the main antagonist for the majority of the series' runtime/playtime - horrid actions because "oh they're just misunderstood and lonely" and they were only doing what they did to rule over the land the right way! THEY LITERALLY BOTH USE THE "THEY WERE LONELY" EXCUSE! THE "JUST RULER" EXCUSE!

Like. I get it. CF!Rhea and the rest of the routes!Rhea are two totally different depictions of her. You come in from CF, where the narrative never lets go of the Rhea Bad red herring due to Edelgard's own biases, and you see this crazy lady calling you trash and garbage and that your ass stank and you're doo doo and all that, and she's cackling like a Crazy Person™, and you think "wow. Rhea bad." But, like. The entire game is all about subversion. Dimitri isn't quite the pure hearted fairytale prince. Claude isn't a cold, devious schemer. Edelgard isn't the honest and forward person who cares for her people, just coldly. These are the first impressions you get from the lords, and they're all wrong. But nah, Rhea should be treated like the Agarthans and there's nothing subversive about her. She's Just Evil, because the beginning of the game says so just ignore all the shit that makes her not evil, and thus should be treated as such. Imma be mean for a hot second... you have to genuinely lack reading comprehension to believe the overall narrative of 3H makes Rhea to be a morally black bad guy. You can't hide behind the "only played one route" excuse... ever, really? The fuck are you doing contributing to discussions of the game when you... haven't finished it?

But, like, anyway lol got a bit sidetracked. Rhea deserves so much more love in this fandom than she gets, and I might not be able to really change that much... but I can wait for my Rhea zine to finally come in at least lmao

#ask #anon #Rhea (fire emblem)#like this will always be a Rhea-loving space never you worry nonnie #sorry if I got a tad mean but oh my god this fandom can be exhausting lmao

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

Five Seconds (4/8)

If you’d like to read at AO3, you may do so here.

June 4, 2018

Mulder stood in the kitchen wearing only sweatpants, the rented house quiet around him. Scully had headed to the local Meijer for supplies of every stripe, and both kids had leapt at the chance to go with her, a rare occurrence the last few years, but a clear result of forced low profile and cabin fever.

He was nursing a rare cup of caffeinated coffee and watching a black squirrel make a nuisance of itself on the residence’s sole backyard bird feeder. When his new cell phone rang, he answered it out of muscle memory.

“Hello?”

“Hello Fox,” said the person on the other end of the line, “aren’t you a sound for sore ears.”

It took him a moment to place the voice.

“Lauren,” he said after a moment, smiling into the receiver, “it’s good to hear from you, too. I take it you got the information I sent you?”

Mulder had had Frohike send her their contact information as they’d previously agreed, and he assumed this was the first of her planned unplanned check-ins.

“It was a little cloak and dagger, even for the District,” she said, and Mulder could hear her smile over the line.

“And I always thought you lived for the drama,” he said companionably.

“Well, I got to wear my best Carmen SanDiego hat, so I guess I can’t be mad.”

Mulder chuckled into the receiver.

“How’s it going?” Lauren asked, her tone shifting to one of sober inquiry.

“It’s going.”

“Dana okay?” her question was sincere, and Mulder marveled how time could change a person.

“She’s good,” he said, “healthy. All systems go. I’m sure she’d want me to send you her best.”

“And the kids? How are they handling it all?”

Mulder sighed.

Will was adjusting, but Lily was miserable. Lonely and bored, unable to talk to friends back home and without the specter and excitement of starting school in the fall. She’d even begged to be able to get a summer job, even as just a waitress at the local Bennigan’s, but Mulder didn’t like the idea of her being away from the house for hours at a time, and Scully wasn’t sold on their borrowed Social Security numbers passing an employment check.

“The kids are… okay.”

“Going that well, huh?” she asked.

“Lil is pretty miserable,” he admitted.

“Of course she’s miserable,” Lauren scolded him, “she’s 18 years old and stuck in a house with her well-meaning parents. She should be at the beach with friends getting day drunk on Bud Light-”

“-she would never-” Mulder interrupted, to which Lauren outright laughed in his ear.

“-I assure you, she already has!”

Mulder sighed again. “Aside from dropping her off at the lake and buying her a rack of shit beer, you got any ideas?”

“College boys in tight pants,” Lauren said.

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, taken aback.

“Take the family to a football game Fox, you’re in a Big Ten town for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s not football season yet.”

“Just take her somewhere with a lot of people. And give her a little bit of freedom. And when it is football season?”

“Yeah?” Mulder asked.

“Take her to see the tight pants.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

September 3, 2018

It had been months and they started to relax, maybe a bit too much. They were alert, but comfortable. Maybe complacent, Mulder couldn't tell. All he knew was that if he kept the kids in the house for much longer, they'd kill each other and possibly him and Scully in the crossfire, and it would defeat the whole purpose of their hiding out. That said, all was quiet on the homefront -- Darlene and the Gunmen, and to a lesser extent, Doggett, Reyes and Skinner -- had heard nothing with their ears to the ground.

He and Scully had discussed it, and decided that they would let the kids out of the house. They allowed them to socialize occasionally, if they promised to be careful. Will had made a couple of friends around the neighborhood, playing roller hockey in their cul de sac, but Lily hadn't had as much luck, or as much motivation. She had been quiet and keeping mostly to herself, and come September, Mulder had decided to finally take Lauren's advice. They were going to a football game.

William was beside himself with excitement which made up for Lily's lack of enthusiasm. Scully had opted out of attending, citing her increasing need of accessible bathrooms and the inevitable long lines at ladies rooms in sports arenas.

They took the bus to the edge of the MSU campus -- the first time any of them had been on it since moving to the town several months before. There were people everywhere -- most dressed in the hometown colors of green and white, but a rare few -- looking as lost on campus as the Mulders themselves -- in the brown and gold of the visiting team.

Mulder had ducked into the student union to get a campus map, whereupon William insisted he buy all three of them something supporting the hometown team. Lily opted out, but William and Mulder walked out each in a brand new ball cap, the brims stiff and flat -- in addition, William was carrying a big foam finger emblazoned with the number 1 and the gruff face of Michigan State's Spartan mascot, Sparty.

"It's this way," Mulder said, consulting his map and pointing south, and they set off following streams of people headed toward the stadium which sat in the middle of campus.

The day was delightfully mild, and while the sun shone, there were fat clouds everywhere that would cover it as soon as you were at risk of overheating. There seemed to be tailgate parties set up at increasing concentrations the closer they got to the stadium, the air thick with the scent of grilling meat and tinny stereos playing the home school's fight song.

There were frat boys throwing a football back and forth every thirty or so feet, and crowds of coeds sipping beer from green Solo cups, hovering around games of corn hole and beer pong, laughing while they clung to each other like the last few Cheerios floating in a bowl of milk.

Mulder stole a glance at Lily, who looked at them wistfully. School had just started here at Michigan State and the week before at UVA, and Mulder could tell his daughter was fairly heartbroken about not being able to attend.

Mulder pulled up short and Lily and William both stopped several steps past him and turned to look at him expectantly.

"One sec," he said and walked over to a large tent wherein an alumni organization was selling hot dogs and brats to raise funds. He bought three bratwurst and a couple of sodas and walked them back to his kids, hands full and pockets overflowing with napkins and little packets of ketchup and mustard.

He nodded toward a low stone wall that ran along the length of one of the sidewalks and they all sat down and ate sloppily, ketchup plopping to the sidewalk that they leaned over so as not to spill on their clothes. William was of course done first and snapped open his soda, slurping from it happily.

"They call it pop here," he said, raising his can and giving his father a cheeky smirk.

"No one cares, Billy," Lily said, wiping her lips delicately with a napkin and setting the last quarter of the brat on the wall beside her. "I'm stuffed," she declared.

Will happily scarfed the rest of her sausage and Mulder was about to suggest they start moving again toward the stadium when a frisbee glided through the air and scuffed to the ground at their feet. Lily jumped off the wall and picked it up, looking around to find its owner, who was trotting toward them in droopy cargo shorts and an overlarge school shirt that said "I BLEED GREEN."

Mulder shook his head as Lily pulled back and winged it back toward the guy, sailing it in a perfect arc into his waiting hands.

The kid smiled at her, teeth and all.

"Nice arm!" the kid said, giving her one more charming look before trotting back toward his friends who were waiting further across the Diag that cut through the center of campus.

Mulder glanced at Lily who was wearing a small but fading smile.

He stood, balling up the napkin and sausage detritus. He turned to Lily impulsively.

"You want a beer?" he asked her.

She almost blanched and gave him a queer look.

"A beer?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "you're a college kid now, no reason you shouldn't enjoy a cold one before a football game like all these other coeds."

Lily gave him a suspicious look just as Will piped up, "I want a beer."

"No," Mulder said, cutting off any complaints with a sharp look and then he walked over to a fraternity tent and talked for a moment to the kid that was manning the keg. After a few words, he handed over a few bills of cash and returned to his kids, handing Lily a dripping plastic cup.

He took a sip of his own cup and inclined his head at his daughter.

"Not the best," he said, while she took a tentative sip.

She smiled over the rim of the cup but kept her eyes on the ground.

"Tastes like college," she said, and Mulder couldn't help but smile.

XxX

"Hey Frisbee," Lily heard from several feet to her right.

She stood up from the drinking fountain in a nook of the stadium in between lavatories, and used her wrist to wipe her mouth dry.

The guy who lost his frisbee at her feet while they were eating before the game was standing only yards away, a small cocksure smile on his lips. Lily tilted her head at him.

"I thought that was you," he went on.

She nodded awkwardly and stepped away from the drinking fountain so the person behind her could drink.

"I think you're in the wrong stadium," he said, and when she looked at him in confusion, he smiled kindly and pointed at her shirt.

She'd donned a UVA sweatshirt for the game out of a sense of loyalty or rebellion (she wasn't sure which, if she were being honest) and she only realized when they stepped onto campus how much it actually made her stand out.

"This isn't the UVA game?" she said mock seriously, "God, I took a left heading into Charlottesville and I guess I should have taken a right." The comment earned her a chuckle and a genuine smile. "Guess the extra ten hours in the car should have been my first clue."

The guy took a few steps toward her and held out his hand.

"Travis," he said by way of introduction, and she shook his hand politely. It was warm in hers, and his grip was firm but brief.

"Lillian," Lily said, almost forgetting to introduce herself with her cover name.

"That's pretty," Travis said, and Lily could feel herself blushing, feeling awkward that it wasn't really her name. "So you go to UVA?"

She nodded. "Deferred for a semester while my folks moved here." Her father had told her to stick as close as she could to their actual stories when telling people their covers in order to keep it all straight.

"Cool," said Travis. They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I should get back to my seat," she said, "halftime's almost over."

People were streaming back into the seating areas, and she could hear the marching band keeping tempo as they marched off the field.

Travis shoved his hands into his pockets and for a moment looked slightly bashful.

"Yeah," he said, turning away and taking a few steps, before turning back. "Hey, you want to hang out sometime?"

Lily thought to herself that just about anything sounded better than having to spend one more night at home playing Hearts at the dining room table.

"Sure," she said, and Travis pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

She put in the number of the phone that Darlene had given her and felt only a little weird entering "Lillian" in the name box.

When she handed Travis back the phone, he used his other hand to lightly touch her arm.

"Hey, it was nice meeting you," he said.

"You too," she smiled and wandered back to her seat, trying very hard to keep a smile off her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So..." Scully started, not sure how to broach the subject, other than just to spit it out, "Lily wants to know if she can go 'hang out with a guy.'"

She was sitting at the dining room table sipping on an iced tea, the dew of condensation slippery and cold on her fingertips. She was feeling pendulous and heavy, the high of the second trimester given way to the rolling agony of the third. Her husband, as she had suspected he would, looked suddenly aghast.

"She... what?"

"She got asked out, Mulder, and would like to know if it was okay with us if she went."

William came breezing through the kitchen then, opening up the fridge door and hanging in front of it, blankly staring at its contents, unimpressed.

"Pick something or don't, Will," Mulder said testily to his current youngest, "but please stop letting all the cold out of the fridge."

Will grabbed a soda and stood while the fridge door closed on its own behind him.

"That's Billy to you," he said, mocking insult, and made his way slowly out of the kitchen, staring at Mulder who affectionately reached out as he passed and messed his red curls into an orange soda froth on the top of his head.

"You need a haircut," Mulder said, and Will lifted his nose, shaking his hair out with dignified hauteur.

"So do you," the boy said and left the room.

Scully chuckled. "Don't take it out on him," she said.

Mulder shook himself and turned back to her.

"Take what out on him?"

"That your daughter is growing up and you're not ready. You look like you did the night she went to prom with Derek Smead."

Mulder looked completely affronted.

"He didn't even come to the house! He just had the limo honk and she ran out the door. You didn't get any pictures! Who does that? No self-respecting gentleman. I honestly still don't believe he's a real person."

Scully chuckled again. "And she left him at the dance after an hour and took the limo with five friends to the Sonic drive-in. She's got a good head on her shoulders, Mulder."

"I know she does."

"So what do you think? Is it safe to let her date?"

"I don't like it."

"I didn't ask if you liked it. I asked if you thought it was safe."

Mulder blew out a raspberry. Scully knew that he was thinking the same thing she was -- they'd let Will hang out with a few new friends so long as he was careful. Lily arguably had more common sense by nature of her age (and her gender, thought Scully). She would take precautions and employ the minimal tradecraft Mulder and Scully had taught her.

"What do you think?" Mulder asked her.

"I think she's 18 years old and we're lucky she even ran it by us. If she were away at school, she'd be making these decisions for herself."

Mulder's shoulders slumped.

"As long as she's careful," he finally said.

"I'll give her some condoms," Scully muttered, an offhand remark.

"Scully!" Mulder blanched.

"I just wanted to see the look on your face," Scully laughed.

Mulder shook his head and turned to walk out of the room.

Scully was still chuckling minutes later.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Hey Frisbee," said a voice from behind her.

Lily turned to see Travis standing several feet away in the middle of the footbridge. He was wearing black flip flops, a pair of long khaki shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair -- dark tousled waves, cut short but shaggy -- was poking in all directions out of a university ball cap, which, she was relieved to see, was pristinely white without a yellowing band of sweat or scuzz. His face looked freshly shaved and he was smiling.

"Hey yourself," she said, and took a step toward him.

He reached into his pocket as she approached and pulled out a ziplock sandwich bag, filled with a gritty grey substance. She took it with some hesitation.

"Is this... a bag of oatmeal?" she asked.

He colored and put both hands up.

"Okay, so: I was going to bring your flowers, but then I thought you know what would be cute? Flour . So I went to our pantry and I'm looking at this giant bag of flour and I'm like what the hell is she going to do with a giant bag of flour? And then I saw the oatmeal and thought -- well, we're meeting on the footbridge, we could feed the ducks! ...So I brought you oatmeal. Bread is bad for ducks."

Despite the lengthy diatribe, Lily laughed. "It was nice of you to think of the ducks," she said.

"Well," he said, and walked with her to the railing of the footbridge, which crossed the Red Cedar River. "The bag itself is multipurpose. If you think it'd be fun, I thought we could rent a canoe later and go down the river?"

"What does that have to do with the bag?" she asked, leaning over the railing and looking down into the tannin-tinted water. A cluster of ducks, trained to anticipate food, swam quickly toward them.

"We can put our phones in it," he said, leaning into her shoulder a little. "I myself have been through the gauntlet of canoe training at Camp Quitcherbitchin as a young lad, but you're an unknown quantity, Frisbee. What if you dunk us? I aim to save our electronics."

Lily laughed again, charmed despite herself. She opened the baggie and threw a handful of oats to the waiting ducks below, which scurried as fast as they could swim for the feast. Lily offered Travis some, and he took a handful and cast it out. They fed the ducks for a minute or so of comfortable silence.

Finally, Lily asked: "Camp Quitcherbitchin?"

Travis smiled.

"Sleep-away summer camp up north. I went every year. It's actually called Camp Nageesh, but some of the counselors were somewhat less than tolerant of complaints, so the campers called it Quitcherbitchin.”

Lily chuckled. "Canoes, huh?"

"Plus sailboats, swimming and archery. I refuse to divulge which I have a higher level of competency in, in case you're some kind of polymath with a competitive bent."

"You aren't one of those guys who can't stand it when a girl is better than you at something, are you?" Lily asked.

“Are you a polymath with a competitive bent?” Travis grabbed another handful of oatmeal and threw it toward a mother with a brood of ducklings that were having trouble getting into the mix.

“I’ve got some game,” Lily said, arching an eyebrow that would have made her mother proud.

"In that case," he said, turning toward her. His eyes were a mossy green, like her father's. He gave her a small smile, “I look forward to being outmatched."

"Well," said Lily, intrigued. She scattered out the last bit of oatmeal and, blowing some of the grit from the bag, put her phone into it and handed it to Travis for him to do the same. "Let's see what you're made of, Paddles."

XxX

"We seem to be drifting a bit to starboard," Lily called over her shoulder. Travis had taken the backseat ("Do you mind if I steer?" he'd asked). They'd managed to board and push off okay -- the bored-looking livery attendant having given them minimal instruction, but held the craft as they both lifted themselves gingerly aboard.

"I'm aware of that," said Travis, his voice a little tense for the first time.

"You said you were steering," she teased him. They were rapidly making for the opposite shore of the river, the canoe swinging sideways with the current.

"I'm aware of that too," he said back, and then a moment later, she felt the canoe sway radically, followed by a splash. She grabbed the side of the craft for dear life and then swung her head to look behind her. Travis had jumped out of the canoe and was now holding it by the triangle at the stern with one hand, paddle in the other; halting their momentum, which had been about to take them into a bramble of cedar branches hanging low over the water.

"Oh my god!" Lily squeaked. "Are you okay? Did you fall?"

"I jumped," Travis said, "If you headed home with a rat's nest of cedar sprays in your hair, you might not go out with me again."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Lily said, setting her oar down on the bottom of the canoe.

"Will you go out with me again?" Travis said hopefully, and the smile he flashed her made her want to say yes, but instead she teased:

"Too early to make that call."

"This water is really cold, Lillian," he said, and turned, pulling the canoe behind him into the water upstream and back toward the livery.

"It looks it," Lily said. "If I do go out with you again, let's stick with something land-based, huh?"

Travis threw a grin at her and kept trudging, clearly trying his best to keep the craft steady so she didn't fall in herself. She checked her pockets briefly for their phones, which she'd offered to hold on to, and watched him. The river was relatively shallow -- he was a tall guy and the water was only soaking the cuff of his shorts.

"Your parents should call Camp Quitcherbitchin and get their money back, Travis," she said, canting her face up to the sun and closing her eyes briefly. She shrieked when the canoe suddenly lurched to one side. She grabbed the side and looked at her date, who had stopped and was wearing a mischievous grin. He was still wearing the dorky orange life jacket that they'd been required to don, and the whole situation made Lily start laughing.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Travis said, turning again to continue the trudge back to base. "I'll have you know that I learned how to canoe on a lake. I forgot to account for one variable."

"The current?" Lily asked.

"The current," he admitted.

They made it back to shore and he helped her out of the canoe, explaining to the still benumbed livery worker that they wouldn't be back, but still throwing a soggy five dollar bill in the tip jar. After retrieving his flip flops from the bottom of the small boat, he offered to take Lily to the campus Dairy Store for ice cream.

"Your campus has a Dairy Store?" she asked him curiously.

"This is Moo U, Lillian," he explained, steering her a few blocks from the river to a large brick building beyond the main engineering hall. "This street is Farm Lane. We have cattle."

Once inside they reviewed the offerings, and Lily noticed that they had a flavor for every university in the Big Ten conference -- even their arch rivals. About which he announced, "I'll buy you anything but the Maize & Blueberry. I like you, but even I have my limits."

Once they had their cones (she with Boilermaker Brownie and he with Hoosier Daddy ("basically strawberry," he explained)), they settled onto a picnic table in the shade.

"So," Travis said, licking a drop that had melted onto his knuckle, "why'd you end up deferring this semester?"

Lily swallowed the bite in her mouth without chewing. They had prepared cover stories but she hadn't yet needed to use hers. Stick with the truth as much as you can , said her father's voice.

"My dad got a job here and my mom is pregnant. She was on bedrest for a while and needed help."

Travis was looking at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn't -- continuing to nervously lick her cone. After a long moment of waiting, he kindly plowed ahead, asking her about her major and telling her about his. He was a sophomore, from a town in the northern part of the state, and she found him inherently easy to talk to and interesting, and wondered, idly, if that was because he really was interesting or if she were just starved for company and attention.

When they finished up, they threw away their napkins in a nearby trash can and stood looking at each other, only a little awkwardly.

“So... “ Travis started, “still too early to make the call?”

She smiled, remembering what she’d told him in the canoe about going out with him again. “I like your chances.”

He smiled back and she felt a little thrill. “Lillian, will you go out with me again?” he asked.

“Dry land stuff?”

“The driest.”

“In that case, yes.”

She was still feeling the soft kiss he'd given her cheek hours later as she sat around the dining room table, fielding invasive questions from her father and trying to avoid her mother’s eye.

#MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #X-Files #Fanfic #My fic

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annonmaly · 3 years

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Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

"Oh, It's Not Red" continuation

Welcome to the third part of my posts regarding Mochijun-sensei's official VnC artworks. This is just a continuation of the 2nd part (there will be no artworks to be discussed). I will just share some absurd ideas that I came up with after my realization (some may already be out there). If there's any chance that you stumbled to the prior post and decided to continue. I salute you brave warriors that assume I would mention anything that makes any sense. To those who have no time to read a post that only talked about Murr's eye color. Here's a summary: I realized Murr's right eye is not red.

Curious as to how did I come to this conclusion? Check it out here: Oh, It's Not Red (You may not read the first part as it isn't related to this. But if you want to, it's here: Regarding some of VnC Artwork this title is so uncreative)

As usual, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things clearly. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe

Now that it's all said and done. Let's go ahead and talk about Murr.

By this time, we already know who is Murr. And I think we all agree that the cat is not just a cute mascot of the series. I bet that he would be a game-changer (yes, I'm putting Murr on a high pedestal). The question is: What do you think of Murr's role in the story?

After spending hours and hours of reading here and there, the common theories I found are:

1. Murr is Sensei (The Shapeless One)

Sensei is an observer. And where is the best place to observe? It's beside your subject of interest. Also, as his title suggests, he is shapeless, so maybe he could shapeshift into anything he wants. This sounds probable but, I do not lean on this much for two reasons.

Personal preference. If this is true, Sensei is weird, not terrifying. I mean, instead of doing scary and shady affairs during his free time, he decided to be a cat just to watch Noé.

Look at the image below closely.

Did you found Murr? No? Take a closer look at Louis. At first, I thought he was just reading, but his book has a weird shape. Where did I see that again? Oh, right.

Not yet satisfied? See this panel from the manga. This is after the first image's scene.

(Grandpa obviously has his favorites)

I think the cat Louis' holding is Murr. Thus, there's a panel where Sensei and Murr are together. That's the second reason I'm skeptical about this theory, folks.

Well, we also don't know. Maybe grandpa killed the cat so he could disguise himself as one.

2. Murr is a spy camera of Grandpa De Sade

It's a simple one. The theory goes like this: Murr's right eye connects to Sensei in whatever way. This panel is what inspires this theory:

(This cat really is suspicious, I bet he is one of the puppet masters of this arc along with Sensei)

This theory is what I'm more inclined to believe. I suppose the cat is working under/with Grandpa for their grand schemes. So, of course, he would report to Sensei the events that took place. Whether he is using his right eye or whatever means it is.

Going to my personal thoughts...

I guess that Murr was a kin of the vampire of the blue moon. He used the power too much, and thus he was rewritten from the inside. Alas, Murr became a cat! Why is he heterochromatic, tho?

Ok, kidding aside, there are two ideas I want to share.

1. Possibly Twins

Mochijun-sensei dropped the bomb in chapter 46. She gave us the idea that the theme of twins would be relevant in the story. Here is the page where Veronica mentioned the thing about twins:

Then three chapters later when Misha forced Noé to drink his blood and reveal his memory. Mochijun-Sensei dropped another bomb.

After seeing this, we speculated that Faustina and Luna are twins. I love that thought. Just imagine how complex the relationship it would be between the two. But if we think about it. What if this is just a misdirection? First, Mochijun-sensei makes us aware that the subject of twins is somewhat important. And while that information is still fresh in our memory, she dropped another bomb and told us that the blue vampire and the queen looked alike. Mochijun-sensei set this up so that we could connect the two easily.

All we know is that: Vampire twins are a symbol of bad luck, and Luna looks like Faustina. This is just me overthinking things, but what's life without competition. So, let's add three more names to the list that could be a set of twins.

Murr and Luna: Because why not? His left eye is blue. Also, Luna's left eye was never shown in the series. It's always hidden by her hair, maybe it's a different color.

Noé and Luna: Let's just say he is older than the series claimed him to be. Noé's memory started on the day that it snowed. I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well.

Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy?

(How kind are this kidnappers that the kid was not traumatized? Also what's with the injuries. I don't much about slave trading in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage right. Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

Going back to Noé and Luna. Mochijun-sensei is giving us subtle hints of his association with Luna. I only saw Luna from one chapter, but I could say they are somewhat similar aside from the hair and skin(?) color (I will make a list later if I still have of time on hand).

(Child Noé and Luna both have similar haistyle, they have the "lid" as Mochijun-sensei called it. Their eyes are different tho')

Go on, read chapter 49, you'll see what I mean. Also, take note that at some panels (especially the ones where Noé is feeling extreme emotions), Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon (I have a weird feeling about Noe's left eye that I will share later) To conclude this, I think that Noé was not from this era. He is actually from the past and preserved in whatever way from whatever reason. And maybe he is actually the twin brother of Luna, seeing that they have a resemblance.

For now, I won't say that he's a reincarnation of Luna (I may change my mind later) as the timeline doesn't coincide. Besides, human Vani's reaction when Misha told him that there's a way to revive Luna is intense. Meaning he wants Luna to stay dead. I also believe that human Vani is hiding "something" he knows about Noé. So if Noé's a reincarnated Luna, there's no way human Vani would stay with him.

Murr and Noé

If you saw my previous post. I convinced myself that Murr's right eye's color is violet (the same shade as Noé's). That's why I decided to include them here. I have no definitive reasoning aside from their eye color and how Murr treated Noé in the series.

In the meantime, I'll write the scenario in my head. What if Murr and Noé are twins. Something happened when they were young, and so they were separated. Noé was somewhere we don't know yet, while Murr encountered Vampire Vanitas and Grandpa DeSade. Then the rest is history.

I swear I didn't expect it to be this long, at any rate, this would be to be continued here: Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Note: This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

#thoughts about vnc panels

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spartanxhunterx · 4 years

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So late the party has left.

Ok, I've had this submission from @starmage2 for ever and just got around to it now.

As a heads up I've changed the 'Alien invasion ' to Gorilla Grodd invasion instead. Same general thing though.

Paris was not a place the flash visited often or even with purpose. A city of calm and peace that was unaffected by the world's crazies, maniacs and supervillians. There has never been a reason to be in Paris, for anyone from the league. Aside from maybe taking a superspeed shortcut or flying well above the city to make time to ones real destination.

But now Flash, or Barry Allen to those close to him, feared that the millennia long peace was going to be broken. News had spread that Gorilla Grodd, One of Flash's Rivals, had snuck his way to Paris, France, with plans to use De-evolution devices to regress the human population for his own uses.

That was Not something the justice league was going to ignore, it would be like ignoring an upstart villain or a call for aid. Such things were not taken lightly.

he had long since past Paris' border and was making his way to the Eiffel tower, Where the rest of the Justice league members that were joining him would be meeting up with him. It was considered the most neutral and hidden spot in Paris after dark.

Still, he indulged himself by taking the long scenic route, confident that he would beat everyone there. Except for maybe superman but who cares about that?

So it was a huge surprise, when passing the Louvre, that a large portal opened in front of him and before he could redirect himself he was already through to the other side, his feet skid against the oiled floor as he tumbled into a pre-placed net. The trap triggered and the next thing he knew he was tied up and dangling a foot off the floor.

Ignoring the oncoming footsteps he tried twisting his limbs, if he could move just the slightest amount he could friction burn the ropes around him to free him. It wasn't until he felt something pointy touch his chest and a hand guide his chin that he looked at the perpetrators. There were three, one female, two males.

one guy looked like he was dressed up as a monkey with a Bo Staff, the girl like a bee and the other guy... Well he wasn't sure up he was going to guess a horse due to the horseshoe they had.

"Watch it speedy." The girl talked, a hint of smug laced in her voice. "Try to vibrate your way out of that and I'll stick you to the spot."

" do you have any idea who I am? What kind of trouble you'll be in for doing this? " Cause he knew the rest of the team would be suspicious if he wasn't at least the second person there, these three were playing a dangerous game and he wasn't in the mood to deal with more wannabe villains.

"The Flash," the horse? Started , gesturing to his tied up self. "Fastest man alive, scarlet speedster, defender of Central City. And if my suspicions are correct, Barry Allen. "

flash sputtered slightly, voice cracking with his next words. "W-What, No!"

" Ha! Instant denial! " The monkey exclaimed as he pointed to him before clapping the other guy on the shoulder. " You got it right on the head Pegasus."

OK, Pegasus, one name down. "So, you the ring leader here?" He turned to him and Barry realised he couldn't make out his expression due to his dark glasses, who wears sunglasses at night?

"No. I'm more of the... Tactical analysis type. Information provider and long term planner." He pointed to the other two. " My cohorts here are Abeille and roi singe. "

"The more important thing here, is why is the justice league here in Paris when you've been banned from entering."

" What! When did this happen!? "

"Six years ago."

Flash stared dumbfounded at the three, all attempts to escape forgotten. The JL was banned from Paris? And had been for six years? "Why?"

" Oh please. " Abeille scoffed as she picked up her discarded coffee drink, taking a slow sip to force tension to grow. "Don't act like you don't know why, you're fully aware and if not?... Ask Green lantern."

Roi singe's Bo Staff let out a chime and he slid open the panel to reveal the communicator. "Anything on your end yet?" The voice on the other end was feminine, the three Parisian heroes easily recognized Ladybugs voice.

" Yeah actually, managed to bag the Flash, trap worked like a Charm. "

"The Flash? Interesting. See what he knows, we've got reports of odd noises coming from an old abandoned warehouse. Me, Viper And Ry are gonna check it out, Chats on the way to you and so are some local Officers, let them deal with the Flash. "

"So, what are you doing here Speedy wonder?" Pegasus smacked Roi on the chest before turning his critical gaze to the tied up hero.

"What he means is, why are you hear and who else should we expect, I doubt you came to Paris for a holiday. You shouldn't have been caught by this trap, you react too fast, you were occupied with something."

" The JL had received reports that Grodd, Gorilla Grodd, has made his way to Paris. Nothing good had ever come from him being anywhere near humans so we sent a team to deal with it before too much damage can arise. "

The three of them looked at each other skeptically, since when did the JL care about collateral damage?

"Ok, meet up point, now."

" You think I'm gonna tell that to a bunch of upstart villains? "

There was a moment of silence before the three of them burst out laughing, Roi had to prop himself up by his staff while Abeille almost doubled over. When she was done she splashed the remains of her, now cold, coffee over the heroes face.

"Villains? Really?" She sneared pulling the heroes face closer to hers. "We are the heroes of Paris, Defenders of France, part of the Miracle team. If you ever get the chance, ask Diana what a Miraculous is... And she will know, any statement to the contradictory is a lie."

"Now, meet up location?"

" Eiffel tower. "

" Who will be there? "

"Batman, Superman, Wonder woman, Green lantern And Robin."

"Good. Officer Cuff him and give him a cell." Unknown to The Flash several officers had arrived, they quickly slapped on some anti-meta handcuffs before removing him from the net , shoving the 'hero ' into the police car before driving away.

"Chat's on his way to the tower, let's give him some back up."

It was twenty minutes later, the use of two vemons, one uproar and the combined might of Pegasus, Abeille, Roi singe, Chat Noir and Carapace to subdue the heroes who had been waiting for the Flash.

Not that the flight was difficult, not while Green lanterns ring was on the Fritz and couldn't form a single thing, Superman was Frozen in place, Along with Robin, Batman was being held in a restraint by Carapace and Diana had been given a fright by being teleported way above them for a few moments before she and Green lantern were tied up in Abeille's Wire.

it was a good thing the team was well within their mid twenties, had they been teens their miraculous would have run out by now. Instead they could cast their powers as much as they wished while only gaining some exhaustion if they went too far. Without the fear of de-transforming.

"Well... That was easy." Roi Singe leaned against the frozen Form of Robin, not bothered by the fact that the violent vigilant was frozen mid-strike.

"I don't think..." Carapace grunted as he tightened his grip to Batmans arms , keeping a hold above his elbows so he could keep the man's arms behind his back. "Getting the drop on unsuspecting people AND freezing their power player," his head jutted to superman, where Chat Noir was happily sitting on his shoulders as he played with his tool. "Can be considered a fight, more like a slaughter really. "

"I agree." Abeille nodded as she tugged her two captives closer to her, without missing a beat she sat on the Amazonian's back before propping her feet up on Green lanterns head. "So, greenie, recognise us?"

"Should I?" He tried to move his head from under the bee hero's foot but was quickly met with the heel of said foot impacting the back of his head. "Hey, what was that for!?"

" You really don't recognise me Hal Jordan? " Chat Noir growled out as he leaped off supermans shoulders before lifting the other others face with his baton.

Said hero stiffened at his name and the Cat Hero took it as his cue to continue. "The justice League receive, over a period of three years, a large amount of calls for aid from France, Paris specifically."

Both Batman and Wonder woman ceased their resistance as they heard this, why was this the first time they were hearing it?

"From two, young, barely teen, kids. Who had far too much responsibility thrusted onto them, who had to fight a maniac who mind controlled and powered up people who were experiencing negative emotion. "

"He targeted kids... A lot."

" What? " Despite their age and experience many of those present flinched at the harshness in Batmans voice, Pegasus turned to him, emotion hidden behind his darkened glasses.

"The butterfly Miraculous of Transmission is able to find people who experience strong emotion, be they negative or positive and empower them based on the current circumstances, like say... "

He paused as he tried to find a viable scenario to use.

"Ok, if you say someone falling from a tall tower and you really wanted to save them, a butterfly weilder could empower you and give you flight, either by giving you wings or... Making you like him." He pointed to superman.

"Hawkmoth, however, would wait until you had negative emotions, being dumped, bullied, fired so on and so forth normally caused these things and he would make it possible to get revenge, with the exception being that they HAD to get Ladybug And Chat Noirs miraculous to pay off the 'debt' they were in. "

"They never remembered the things they did, fortunately, can't say the same for those who died and came back to life though."

Those present Blinked, Batmans mouth opened and closed for a moment before his steely gaze landed on Hal.

"Paris once Flooded, an estimated 87% of Paris drowned that day... The other 13% wasn't purely kids."

"Hal."

" I didn't know ok! " Hal was recoiling from the glare that Batman was sending his way. "I thought it was a prank, ok! I didn't think it was real, how can you take two kids who dress up as a Ladybug And a Cat seriously?"

"You should have investigated, met up with them and assessed the situation First, not assumed."

" I know. " Hal's head hit the floor beneath him with a sigh. The Paris hero's looked at him like he was worth less then the dirt under their boots.

"If you help us tonight, we'll help you afterwards." The looks returned to Batman where after a moment a few of them scoffed.

"Hawkmoth's in jail dude." Carapace shook the vigilante's arms. "Has been for... Four years now, we've already reclaimed the lost Miraculi and the book, now we just deal with petty crime and... Well, your mess, it seems."

"Stick to punching Gotham's nutbags, we'll deal with Paris." No one objected to Chat's words, though Batman defiantly seemed to slump at them.

The cat hero shook his head at the older hero before his baton rang, his flipped it open and a moment afterwards Ladybugs voice came through, the Paris hero's were able to pick up on the urgency in her voice.

"Chat, I need you, Roi, Bee, Pegasus and Rena here now."

" on it, " He looked up as he closed his baton. "You heard her, let's go, Pegasus, get Rena, Carapace, keep an eye on these lot."

" got it dude. " He let go of Batmans arms as Abeille released both wonder woman and Green lantern from their bindings. Simultaneously both superman and Robin were released from the effects of venom as it was released. The other Paris heroes leapt away.

"So... Carapace right?" Diana extended her hand out to the turtle hero, who had leant against the railings with his arms crossed.

"I know who you are, and Tikki is not happy with you right now." She flinched at that. "For twelve years you ignored us, four years after we beat Hawkmoth do you finally show up and it's to deal with one of your own. I think I speak for all of Paris when I say, We don't want you here. "

"Since when do you have the authority to do that?" Both Robin and Carapace had a small stare off before Carapace rolled his eyes .

"Since France voted to ban all Non-miraculous heroes, which includes the justice League. You didn't care before, why care now?"

" is there anything that can be done? "

Carapace shook his head at superman. "You are far too late on that dude, there's being late to a party then there's turning up after the hosts have cleaned up. "

"You guys turned up for the party days after it was over, so save some face, wait for them to come back, get the Flash then leave. "

"The Flash is here?"

" Dudes spending his time in a cell tonight. "

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml x dc #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Carapace #rena rouge #Viperion #ryuko #Pegasus #roi singe #Batman #Robin #wonder woman #Superman #The Flash #Green Lantern #Justice league salt #gorilla grodd

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cowboyoctane · 3 years

Text

I’m forcing myself to get comfortable writing bloodhound so here’s smthn inspired by a song that’s been stuck in my head for like 4 weeks.

octhound obvi and maybe its super rushed maybe their relationship isnt clarified so i could be lazy but this is just a little drabble

...

Bloodhound didn’t use their phone much, mostly for reminders and the occasional game of candy crush.

They did get a few texts here and there, mostly from Loba trying to get them to come out to drink with her.

They almost never did.

Bloodhound never even changed any of the settings on it, hell Mirage only showed them last week how to use emojis. Octane was the one who introduced them to Candy Crush, he tried to get them to download other games but they had declined.

They were friends on Candy Crush and every night before bed, Bloodhound made sure they were even just slightly ahead of him.

While waiting on the drop ship, they decided to check to make sure they were still beating Octane. It was a silly game but they took pride in having an even slightly larger number than him.

As they were opening the app, Octane plopped down next to them with his hand extended.

“Lemme see your phone, Sabueso.”

They looked at him suspiciously.

“C’mon Hound I just wanna put my number in! I wanna let you know when I beat your score so I don’t have to wait til the next day to gloat!” He grinned, legs shaking impatiently.

They handed him their phone, watching as he quickly typed in his number.

“There,” he handed the phone back to them. “Now I can gloat and get you to come play video games with me. I’ll show you a REAL game.”

Before Bloodhound could respond, he was gone.

...

A few days later, their phone went off. They ignored it, continuing to sharpen their knife.

Not even two minutes pass before their phone goes off again. Setting their knife down, Bloodhound picks up their phone, expecting an emergency.

“HOUND!! Come over let’s play some games! :)”

They consider ignoring the message. They did have a few things to do today but it would be nice to relax and perhaps have some competition.

“Okay,” is all they send back before getting dressed and making sure their window is cracked so that Artur can come and go as he pleases.

They aren’t sure what they expected when Octane opened the door, but it wasn’t Octane in a sweatshirt and shorts.

They realized they’ve never seen him in casual attire.

“Hound! Welcome to Casa de Octane!” He gestured for them to enter. “Can I get you a drink?”

They shook their head, gesturing to their mask.

He shrugged, moving to the couch and patting the spot next to him.

Bloodhound took the controller from him, sitting carefully next to him. They shifted the controller in their hand, getting used to the weight.

“How do you feel about tiny cars?” Octane asked, opening Rocket League.

“Tiny... cars?”

“Yeah! Lemme show you the controls,” he scooted closer to them.

Even through their gloved hand they felt the warmth of his hands as he positioned the controller.

“Um, Hound?”

Their eyes shot up to meet his.

“Are... you breathing? You okay?”

They realized they had been holding their breath.

“Yes,” they cleared their throat, embarrassed. “You were saying. This.. trigger.. makes the car go forward.”

Octane jumped back into his explanation, gesturing animatedly.

“Ready for your first match?”

Bloodhound shifted the controller in their hands once more, pressing some of the buttons tentatively.

“I think so,” they sat up straighter. “I need to kick your ass at something other than Candy Crush anyways.”

Octane laughed, starting the match.

“I’ll try to go easy on you, Sabueso.”

...

About three matches later, Bloodhound has won their first game.

They looked over smugly at Octane.

“Beginners luck! You distracted me. One more game, winner takes all,” he stuck his hand out to shake.

They took it firmly, chuckling as he changed his position to squatting on the couch so that he could focus.

After Bloodhound had scored their first goal and was about to get another, Octane bumped into them making them miss their shot.

“Svindlari,” they called out, pushing back at him a little.

They let out a surprised yelp when he knocked into them again, losing their balance and grabbing at him to stay balanced, unfortunately taking him with them.

They both landed with a thud, Octane on top of them.

“Cheater,” they groaned, trying to sit up but stopping as they opened their eyes.

He was sitting on top of them still, looking down at them.

“What are you-“ they stopped as he started to lean closer to them, their heart rate picking up. They could feel their face flushing.

He rested his forehead against their mask silently.

He was about to say something when Bloodhounds phone went off.

They both stood up, whatever Octane had wanted to say was gone as he handed Bloodhound their phone.

“Thank you,” they said, checking their phone.

“I must feed Artur or he will hold a grudge for weeks.” They handed the controller back to Octane.

“We must do this again. I was going to beat you, you know?”

Octane scoffed. “Like I said, beginners luck!” He opened the door for them, leaning against the door as they left.

“See you around, Sabueso. I’ll text you next time I’m free to kick your ass again.”

...

Artur was already cawing grumpily at them as they came in the door.

Once they had him situated and he was no longer glaring at them, they pulled out their phone.

They already had a message from Octane gloating about winning more games than them.

Sitting next to Artur, they opened the settings to change his ringtone, that way they wouldn’t miss a game night.

#octhound #octane #bloodhound #hhhhhhh this was rushed #and the end bit was so cheesy im gonna lose it but i wanted a bit to happen and thats how i made it happen #how do uou write bloodhound pls telll #also when octane turns the car he turns the controller as well very important to the story #also yes all my writing is inspired by music what about it #posting before i delete it all together #wrting bh is stressful wtf

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

masterlist 🕊

hi!! welcome to my masterlist!

i try to make all of my imagines as inclusive as possible. PLEASE let me know if i discriminate against any group in any way; this is a safe space for everyone!

fluff 🧸 | angst 🕯| steamy ⚡️| personal favorite 🦦 | from an event ✨ ↬ i write predominantly fluff!

PETER PARKER imagines - anywhere from 1k to 10k words

desperate times and desperate measures 🧸 ↬ you're an avenger on a fake date with peter to get information from a group of villains, and peter has to think quick in order not to blow your cover... wink wink

far from home (part one, part two, part three, part four, part five) 🧸🕯 ↬ you and peter sit next to each other on the plane to europe and what begins as a friendship turns into so much more

can’t help it 🧸⚡️ ↬ you and peter have been dating for a few months now, and being the kind boy he is, he always asks for a kiss when he wants one. when kissing he always lets you set the pace because he's afraid to hurt you (because of his powers), but this time, his feelings are too much…

sista-sista 🧸🕯 ↬ you (peter's sister) were recruited by nick fury multiple years ago. ever since he discovered you, he took you in and trained you to work behind the scenes at S.H.I.E.L.D., and was the one to help you recover after being kidnapped by a terrorist group and experimented on (which resulted in you getting your powers). nick convinces you to work on a mission with peter, resulting in your coming clean to him about your past and the biological relationship between the two of you

study date 🧸 ↬ you and peter have been friends for most of your life but have slightly grown apart this last year due to peter's spider-man duties. finally, the two of you get together to work on a project and things... happen?

fancy-schmancy 🧸 ↬ you and peter sneak out of a fancy charity event because adults are boring and there’s better things to do

competitive 🧸 ↬ you and peter have had an interesting relationship due to the fact that you're both competing for being number one in your class. but, over time, a small, unexpected romance grows out of the rivalry

laser tag 🧸⚡️ ↬ tony organizes a game of avengers laser tag. you and peter are on opposite sides and have made it clear to each other that you will fight to the death- whatever it takes

NINE-NINE! 🧸 ↬ you and peter spend most nights watching brooklyn nine-nine together and have found just how similar the two of you were to the show's lead couple, jake and amy

how about a kiss, saumensch? (part one, part two) 🧸🕯 ↬ when peter sees you reading the book thief and talking about it afterwards, your love for it makes him want to read it. so, he does, and he decides to follow in the steps of rudy steiner, asking for a kiss at every chance he gets

take your things and go (part one, part two) 🧸🕯 ↬ you and peter have a love-hate relationship that makes some advances when the two of you land in a close situation

holy water! 🧸⚡️ ↬ after catching you and peter getting a little heated, natasha decides to take things into her own hands... in the messiest of ways

letters 🧸 ↬ after too long a wait for you and peter to just get together, the team decides to get you together their way

curiosity killed the cat 🧸🦦 ↬ peter parker is a photographer. the boy is absolutely obsessed with taking pictures of anything that attracts him, anything that catches his eye... anything, particularly you

under the mistletoe 🧸🕯 ↬ high school holiday parties can lead to unfortunate circumstances... especially when it involves your lifelong enemy and one godforsaken garnish

spider-man chapstick 🧸 ↬ nostalgic finds at new york bodegas can lead to flirtatious and awkward encounters with the boy you call your best friend

the benefits of fake dating 🧸 ↬ although incredibly annoying, flash thompson’s arrogance was just what you and peter needed

valentine’s and pickup lines 🧸🦦 ↬ sometimes, having to do mj's job for her can work out in the best ways. especially when it's valentine's day and a certain local hero has an errand to make

midtown morning announcements 🧸🕯 ↬ as a reporter for midtown tech's daily announcements, it's easy to get carried away with ideas. especially ones involving the newest superhero from queens

brace-face 🧸🦦 ↬ in which you get braces, peter is persistent, and mr. delmar gives you free slushees

take a bullet 🧸🕯 ↬ you and peter go on your first mission without the team, flirting can be a powerful tool, and cliches like "taking a bullet" for someone don't seem so unrealistic anymore

bad date 🧸 ↬ maybe trying to get over a crush on your best friend wasn't such a good idea after all

trust issues 🧸🕯 ↬ it wasn't peter's fault that he had trust issues after his mentor's death and his most recent superhero friend's manipulation, but it also wasn't your fault that you just wanted to be his friend

locked out 🧸 ↬ y/n can't remember to grab her keys, peter misses the old days with you, and may baked extra cookies

peter! from physics! 🧸 ↬ y/n can't be controlled by wallets, peter parker gets crushes too easily, and crime in new york is abnormally low

to the man who let her go 🧸🕯 ↬ fuck brad davis. yeah

odd one out 🧸🕯 ↬ thanos' plan was to wipe out half of the universe, but what happens when the universe isn't evenly numbered?

swing and a kiss 🧸 ↬ crushes from english class and a *touch* of ptsd turn into a new form of transportation, messy rooftop shenanigans, and a lecture from one (1) tony stark

i want it, i got it 🧸 ↬ newfound confidence during karaoke night certainly can end up in peter parker making bold moves

stolen kisses 🧸 ↬ secret dating always ends in getting caught, especially by a suspicious best friend and a group of superheroes that’s been rooting for you and peter for years.

wish i were heather 🕯 ↬ a relationship that never happened and the wrong one that did.

blurbs - under 1k words

party confessions 🧸⚡️ ↬ you and peter get paired up for seven minutes in heaven

go fix my car, assbag 🧸 ↬ you catch flash bullying peter in the hallway and you decide you've had enough of his crap (haven't we all?)

over-protective peter 🧸 ↬ when flash harasses you in the hallway, peter steps in and gets maybe a bit too angry…

movies and cuddles 🧸 ↬ the avengers have a movie night and you and peter end up in a slightly embarrassing situation

let me show you 🧸 ↬ peter helps you frost a cake in the avengers' kitchen at midnight and it turns into a food fight in which your father, tony stark, catches the two of you mid-fight

scaredy-cat 🧸 ↬ you and peter are dorm neighbors (at MIT, of course), and he helps you out of a sticky-spider-situation

condensation 🧸🦦 ↬ cute neighbors drawing on condensated windows sure have the key to your heart

may? 🧸 ↬ sometimes, peter parker is a bit too caught up in the moment to realize the words that come out of his mouth... but, all for the lolz, right?

care package 🧸🕯 ↬ life is tough, but when a boy donned in red and blue shows up to make you feel better, it isn't so bad

eau de cologne 🧸⚡️🦦 ↬ avengers galas normally annoy you, but the scent of a certain hero can most certainly distract you

massage for massage? 🕯 ↬ unrequited feelings hurt, especially when your hands are the one massaging away his pain

a drive to montauk 🧸 ↬ a peaceful roadtrip with peter

moonlight tears (part one, part two) 🕯 ↬ depression took you away from yourself, but peter didn't let it take you away from him

the penis game 🧸🦦 ↬ a group of boys at the library plays the penis game and none of them manage to get above a quiet yell, so you take matters into your own hands

peter parker for pepper spray! 🧸 ↬ y/n lost her pepper spray, old men in new york are creepy, and peter parker just walked out of delmar's with a sandwich in hand and a kind enough heart to help out an enemy

english lit meet-cute 🧸 ↬ all it takes is an awkward mishap and some confidence to finally get you and the boy you keep seeing around campus together.

overnight beach trip 🧸✨ ↬ in which you and peter take a trip to the beach for a night.

headcanons - stories in the form of chaotic bullet-points

internship 🧸 ↬ tony stark not only helped in bringing together a group of people to protect earth, but also in sparking young love

dirty talk (part one, part two) ⚡️🦦 ↬ to the public, peter parker is the epitome of innocent, but after a conversation at lunch, he is determined to prove the opposite

hallway bookworm 🧸 ↬ girls reading and crying while walking in the hallway sure do seem to have an effect on peter parker

tiktok famous (part one, part two, part three, part four) 🧸⚡️ ↬ the wonderful chaotic adventures of y/n and peter making tiktoks

midnight at delmar’s 🧸 ↬ working alone late at night can be dangerous. 'nuff said

i go hard like thanos 🧸 ↬ popping off to an absolute banger during an avengers meeting is the best way to set yourselves up for failure

quaranteens 🧸 ↬ how you and petey boi spend your quarantine <3

gross 🧸🦦 ↬ chaotic mess in which you pull a Dumb Bitch Move and write a song for peter while relying on the hope that he never sees it

new york boy 🧸 ↬ life is hard when you visit your uncle in new york and all of a sudden there's a cute boy named peter parker in your life

giant teddy bears 🧸 ↬ first dates are awkward, peter sucks at dance dance revolution, and the night ends with a giant teddy bear and something sweet

actual books!

flicks (currently on wattpad; i will not be uploading this to tumblr as of now) ↬ in which a girl named indigo and a boy named peter bond over the love of movies, the loss of parents, and the power of saving the world | bonus imagine!

lmk if any of the links are faulty or if there are any other problems with the imagines! i have been on this site working on transferring my work for hours i have the brain of a strapless croc rn pls forgive me!

#masterlist #imagines #blurbs #headcanons #book #series #peter parker

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omniswords · 4 years

Text

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 11

here’s the next update, everyone! sometimes i wish i could update this more frequently than i do, but the writing has been slow going because of a) other pieces i'm working on and b) work kicking back into high gear 😣 but i really appreciate your patience all the same.

it's looking like this first part of the story will be about 24 or 25 chapters, plus a sequel somewhere in the pipeline. i'm actually really excited for it, but i have some questions about it for you that’d help me guide how i want to get it out! if you could leave a comment with your thoughts, i'd be super appreciative.

would you prefer the sequel to be from Marinette's point of view? or a mix of Marinette and Luka?

if you'd like a mix, would you like a retelling of Chronicles from Marinette's point of view, too, to balance it all out?

do you like the narrative format? or should i try my hand at making it look more like a social media AU? or a mix of both?

thank you so so much! your feedback will really help me figure out what i want to do going forward 💙🎶💖

damn, uh. i wasn’t expecting you all to like that so much. i guess i just needed to give it a little more time to sink in.

it’s only a work in progress, but hey. here’s hoping you’ll like it when it’s all done. thanks for giving it a chance @itsdjbubbles

Marinette was looking at a billboard of Adrien Agreste back then. He’s not so stupid that he didn’t notice. And it wasn’t that typical Celebrity Crush Stare, either. He knew what those looked like. He’d worn them, sometimes even daydreamed about someone looking at him like that from an audience pit. This was different. This was… wistful. The kind that said something could have been, but never was.

Did Marinette… know Adrien Agreste? Like, personally? She had mentioned getting a letter of recommendation from his father, after all. Had she done some kind of special work? Or entered some contest? Maybe she’d only gotten a handful of passing glances when she had the distinguished honor of weaving through the halls of the illustrious Agreste mansion. (Luka didn’t actually know if it could be called “illustrious;” it simply looked that way from the outside, and it wasn’t as though any of the Agrestes had deigned to order food from his job, so it wasn’t as though he could just waltz in and find out.)

Something was there. And Luka didn’t need to find out what that something was. But he wanted to. Curiosity hadn’t killed him yet—

“Ow!”

Across the ping pong table, Juleka fans herself with her paddle, eyeing the ball that smacked him in the face as it rolls away. “Game, set, and match,” she says with a deadpan expression. “Should’ve known thinking about Bakery Girl wouldn’t help you win.”

“I wasn’t thinking about her,” Luka insists to no avail.

“Liar.”

He relents, rolls his eyes, picks up the ping pong ball. “One more.”

“Nah.” Juleka sets her paddle down and starts to cut through the greenhouse area on the Liberty. “It’s no fun winning when you’re all distracted. Even you letting me win is more fun than that.”

Defeated, Luka picks up the ping pong ball—the only victory, considering how many of them they’ve lost to the Seine—and goes after her. She was right to fan herself; it’s way too hot to function on deck, so he ties his hoodie around his waist and wrestles his hair into a short ponytail. Sure, it’s due for a cut and a dye, and sure, Juleka would pounce on the opportunity if he asked, but there are more important things to worry about than his hair. And it surprises him to even think that. “Honestly, I… didn’t think you wanted to bring her up again.”

To an untrained eye, Juleka wouldn’t have frozen or flinched, but he knows his sister better than that. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my God-given right as your younger sibling to rib you about any and every crush you have.”

“Do you even believe in God?”

“Only when you make me ride on the back of your bike.”

Touché. Luka stifles a faint laugh and sinks to the couch. Twenty-one years on this boat, and he’s never thought to question why there’s an entire vintage furniture set in a greenhouse. But then, he’s never been one to question his own mother—even if she’s made it a point time after time after time to question authority at every corner. At least it’s cooler with the glass to protect them, and Juleka looks so unfazed in all that black that she has to be stronger than that pathetic thing America calls an army.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He doesn’t bank on her saying yes, but these days, everything feels like it’s worth a shot. Even if he ends up kicking himself after. If he can survive winking at Marinette Dupain-Cheng and then having a full-blown conversation with her after, he can probably do literally anything else.

It doesn’t surprise him that Juleka shakes her head, but at least he doesn’t feel like kicking himself after all.

“Is it…” He pauses to gather his words; he’s pretty sure Juleka’s one of the only people he could do that for. “Is it one of those things that you want to forget ever happened? You know?” He knows. There are plenty of things he wants to forget, too.

“Nah,” Juleka finally says. “It’s more like… I don’t think it’s my thing to tell.”

Luka isn’t exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean; the only thing it tells him is not to ask her any more questions—that he should go to Marinette with them instead. And he’s not even sure that that’s the best idea. It might take a few more napoleons. A few more deliveries.

He decides to change the subject. “So I started talking to this guy.”

Juleka cocks her head and folds herself up on the armchair. “Huh. That was fast.”

“No, I mean…” He rolls his eyes. “He could get us a gig.”

This time, her expression shifts from sardonic to wary. He has to wonder if anyone else can see these little differences, besides him and Rose. “How do you know he’s legit?”

“I think a couple thousand followers and some DJ sets are pretty legit.”

“How do you know he doesn’t want something from you?”

“Well…” Luka holds his breath in his lungs. She has a point. A couple of points, actually. Sure, they’ve been private messaging back and forth for a few days now, but he still, admittedly, doesn’t know a whole lot about this Bubbles guy. Most of the content they post goes right to Soundcloud, as if the account is automatically linked to post every time a new song or clip goes up. And admittedly, the music is pretty good. Hell, he’s only seen that one silhouette, and that’s the closest he’s gotten to a photo. For all they both know, Bubbles could up and swindle them out of their own guitars. And it’s not like he’s actively trying to compare himself to Adrien Agreste, but he at least wants to keep one of the reasons that might make Marinette want to keep talking to him. It’s not as though all he has to do is exist and have his face plastered all over half of Paris.

It’s just…

It’s just that Luka’s wound his way around the internet enough times to know when kindness is just too kind. He’s been around the block with people who try to get to know him after one song or one close-to-tasteful selfie, only for him to find out exactly what they want from him. He’s gotten on with enough people who ended up blocking him or posting vague, passive aggressive things that he thought he knew—and then definitely knew—were about him. And if Bubbles really was on the Champ de Mars that afternoon, then there was nothing in that park that told him to be scared. Not a single suspicious note.

“I don’t,” he confesses. “Not totally. But I want to believe him.”

“Do you want to believe him?” Juleka asks. “Or are you looking for a reason to impress her?”

For a flicker of a moment—long enough for only his sister to have the eye to notice—Luka can feel his expression go sour. If his guitar weren’t safely downstairs, he’d be holding it close for his own security. Instead, he gets to his feet with a sudden rush of energy, and he makes for the watering can. The plants are looking a little dry. Or maybe he’s just looking for something to do. Something to need him for a bit. “Music’s been around for me before I even knew she existed,” he says, quiet enough for the rug and the upholstery and the leaves to absorb before anyone else does. “And it’ll be there for me till I’m dead and buried. It’s my guarantee, Jules, and I should at least pay it back for everything it’s done for me.”

“That’s not a no.” At least she lets the silence hit before she says it.

Luka sets the watering can down, shuffles his way out of the greenhouse and back into the sun. “Yeah, well. Maybe I’m not totally opposed to it being a yes.”

What is his music, he thinks, if he doesn’t share it with anyone? Just another one-way conversation? Hasn’t he had enough of those?

Behind him, Juleka catches up and takes him by the wrist. “Come on,” she says with a conceding sigh. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

She flicks his little ponytail. “You need a re-up,” she says simply. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

So he puts his time in Juleka’s hands, and he’s never quite sure how long it takes, but he doesn’t mind her taking care of him while he tries—and fails—to forget about Adrien Agreste, and while he gives his messages with Bubbles another go. He even dares to post a picture—not of himself, but of his sneakers, cluttered with designs and as loud as the personality he sometimes wishes he had. The personality that only barely pokes through when Bubbles says something about a set and a club and a real, actual date and time.

look, ma. no vans. and no dollars. and no dates.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #juleka couffaine #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #chinhands #[bernie sanders voice] i am once again asking for your validation

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